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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

ORIGINALLY EDITED BY ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NEW EDITION,

REVISED THROUGHOUT AND CONTINUED

REV. THOMAS THOMSON,

EDITOR OF THE " COMPREHEN'SIVF- HISTORY OF ENGLA.ND," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS AUTHENTIC PORTRAITS OX STEEL.

VOLUME I.

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LONDON;
LLACKIE AND SON. l'.\TERNOSTER ROW

.■\N"I> (iL.XSCOW .XNLi KDIXi'L Ki.ii
1870.

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PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.

The first edition of the Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen
was edited by Mr. (now Dr.) Robert Chambers. It was issued in 4 vols, demy
8vo, and completed in i8T,4.^An his preface the Editor says: —

"A biographical dictkmary of eminent natives of Scotland has been re-
garded as a desideratum in our national literature for the greater part of a
century. Such a work was successively contemplated by Sir David Dal-
rymple and Mr. William Smellie, each of whom proceeded so far with the
design as to write a few of the articles. When the Editor of the present
Work began a few years ago to inquire into the literary and historical
antiquities of his country, he found the desire of possessing a dictionary of this
kind not in the least abated, but very little hope entertained that, under the
existing prospects of literature, it would be possible to present such a book
to the public. He proceeded, nevertheless, perhaps rather under the influence
of a peculiar enthusiasm than any wiser or more considerate motive, to take
upon himself a task which at least two of his predecessors had failed to
accomplish, and for which he could not but feel himself to be in many respects
imperfectly qualified. Sometime after beginning his labours, a fortunate
alliance with his present Publishers, who had projected a similar work,
removed many of the original difficulties, and he was enabled to commence
the publication in 1833.

"In now taking a retrospective view of his labours, he sees, with sonic
regret, passages which he could amend, and even one or two articles which,
upon a more rigid estimate of merit, he would be disposed to omit. He has
much satisfaction, however, in reflecting that very (c\v instances of error in
point of fact have been indicated to him; so that he is enabled to hope that
his Work, upon the whole, makes that near approach to correctness, which is
the most valuable feature in a book of reference."

The second edition, completed in 1855, consisted of a reprint of the four
volumes of the first edition, tlie stereot\-pe plates o( which were rexisetl iiinkr
the inspection of the Publishers, and of a fifth \-olume written niostl\" b>" the

vi PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.

Rev. Thomas Thomson. In his preface to the fifth volume Mr. Thomson
says : —

"A full national Biography for Scotland, from the earliest period till 1834,
was accomplished by the Work, the publication of which was completed
during that year, under the title of 'Lives of Illustrious and Distin-
guished Scotsmen,' of which the first four volumes of the present is a
re-issue. But since the period of its first publication, circumstances have
occurred through which a large addition to the original collection was urgently
demanded. The close of the last, and the earlier part of the present century,
have constituted an epoch in the history of the Scottish mind, such as our
country, prolific though it has been of eminent men, has never previously
enjoyed. But of these illustrious Scotsmen of our own day, the greater part
have died since the year 1834, while they were so numerous as well as
distinguished, tiiat nothing less than an entire volume seemed necessary for
their memorial. If in this estimate it should be alleged that a mistake has
been made — that the worth which our own eyes have beheld, and over which
the grave has so recently closed, has in some instances been rated higher than
a future time and the increasing experience of society will ratify — still we
trust it is a mistake which the succeeding generation will be easily disposed to
pardon.

"The author of this additional volume of the 'LiVES OF ILLUSTRIOUS
AND Distinguished Scotsmen' has only to add, that the following memoirs
owe nothing more to him than the care of editorial revision: viz. those of
Joanna Baillie, Rev. Dr. Robert Balfour, James Bell, John Burns, ^Ll)., David
Dale, Colonel John Fordyce, George Gardner, Charles IMackintosh, James
Montgomery, and Thomas Thomson, mt)., f.r.s. These were derived from
sources of information to which he either had no ready access, or were con-
nected with subjects to which he thought he could not render such ample
justice as they merited. For the authorship of the rest of the volume, what-
ever may be its merits or defects, he claims the entire responsibility."

When the lapse of time seemed to render a new and enlarged edition of
this Dictionary necessary, it was resolved to reset the whole Work, so that the
biographies in the original work and in tlie supplemental fifth volume, and the
large number of new memoirs requiring now to be introduced, might all be
fused into one general ali)habet. The opportunity thus presented for revising
the entire Work was taken advantage of. Some memoirs which seemed to
have extended to an undue lengtli were retrenched, and others that either
seemed too curt, or respecting the subjects of whicli additional information had
become available, were partially amplified, while, following out the more rigid
estimate of merit hinted at in the preface of the original edition, a few others
were altogether omitted. The editor, Mr. Thomson, entered upon the task for
which he was so eminently qualified quite con auiorc. He revised the whole

PUBLISHERS* PREFACE. vii

of the lives in the five volumes of the second edition in the manner indicated,
and wrote all the hundred and forty-seven additional memoirs by which the
present edition is so greatly enlarged, with exception of those of John
Crawford, William Richard Hamilton, William Jordan, Horatio M'Culloch,
R.S.A., J. Beaumont Neilson, John Phillip, R.A., Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpc,
James Smith of Jordanhill, Andrew Wilson, Thomas Graham, D.C.L., F.R.S.,
and probably a few others, which were contributed by relatives or intimate
friends of the deceased persons commemorated, or written by gentlemen
specially conversant with the departments of knowledge in which the sub-
jects of the memoirs were eminent. Mr. Thomson had just finished his
editorial labours by completing the memoirs for the Supplement at the end
of the third volume, with exception of a couple of lives added since, when
the hand of death arrested his career before the final proofs had passed
through the press. An interesting memoir of this indefatigable literary
labourer, contributed by his widow, has been appropriately placed in the
Supplement.

There being no more interesting and instructive history than the lives of the
men by whom history is made, there has been added to the work a full Chrono-
logical Index of the memoirs of which it is composed, by means of which the
reader is enabled to peruse them in the sequence of their dates, and thus
convert this Dictionary into an admirable biographical history of Scotland, of
its kind the most complete that has hitherto been published. In addition
there is appended an Alphabetical Index, in which is registered the principal
authorities and sources whence the materials of the biographies were derived.

In bringing the publication of this important Work to a conclusion, the
Publishers feel gratified in being able to point to the entire fulfilment of the
promises made in the prospectus. For unquestionably "Among the biogra-
phies will be found a large number of an cxceedingl)' instructive character,
calculated to form incentive examples to young and ardent minds, and
numerous instances of men who have risen from humble circumstances and
attained to high positions, and of those who have succeeded in the pursuit of
knowledge in spite of the greatest hardships and difficulties." And all must
confess that it forms "a comprehensive record of the achievements of those, in
ever}- walk of life, whose memories are cherished by their countr}-nien, and
whose deeds form the history of their country; of those who, by their encrg\-,
wisdom, or bravery, their patience, industry, learning, or writings, ha\'c been
influential in preserving its freedom or maintaining the rights of its people;
who have been the leaders in the progress of national ci\ilization ; and whose
exertions have raised their country to that proud eminence which it now
occupies among the nations of Europe."

Glasgow,,-//;-//, 1S70.

A

BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

OF

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

A.

ABERCROMBY, Tfie Honourable Alex-
ander (Lonl Abercromhy), a distinguished lawyer
of the latter part of the i8th century, and an elegant
occasional writer, was the youngest son of George
Abercromby of Tullibody, in Clackmannanshire,
and brother of the celebrated Sir Ralph Abercromby.
He was born on the 15th of Octolier, 1745. While
his elder brotliers were destined for the army, Alex-
ander chose the profession of the law, \vhich was
more consistent with his gentle and studious charac-
ter. After going through the ordinary course of
classes at the university of Edinburgh, he became,
in 1766, a member of the Faculty of Advocates. He
was at this early period of his life the favourite of
all who knew liim, not only for the uncommon hand-
si^meness of his person, but for the extrem.e sweetness
of his disposition. Being given to the gaieties of
fashionable life, he had little relish for laborious
employment; so that, for some years after his admis-
sion into the Faculty of Advocates, his splendid
abilities were well-nigh obscured by indolence or
frivolity. Roused at length to exertion, he engaged
with ardour in all the duties of his profession, and
soon became eminent for professional skill, and dis-
tinguished as a most eloquent pleader. His reputa-
tion and business rapidly increased, and soon raised
him to the first rank at the Scottish bar. In May,
1792, he was appointed one of the judges of the
Court of Session, when, in compliance with the
custom of the Scottish judges, he adopted tlie title of
Lord Abercromby; anil, in December following he
was called to a seat in the Court of Justiciary. " In
his judicial capacity he was distinguished by a pro-
found knowledge of law, a patient attention, a clear-
ness of discernment, and an unbiassed impartiality,
which excited general admiratiim." His literary
performances and character are thus summed up by
iiis frien<l Henry Mackenzie, who, after his death,
undertook the task of recording his virtues and
merits for the Royal Society: — "The lal)orious em-
ployments of his profession did not so entirely engross
him, as to preclude his indulging in the elegant
amusements of polite literature. He was one of that
society of gentlemen who, in 1779, set on foot the
perio(iical paper, published at Edinburgh during that
and the subsoijucnt year, under the title of the
A/irror: and wiio afterwards gave to the world an-
other work of a similar kind, the Louui^cr, published
in 17S5 and 17S6. 'i"o these papers he was a verv
valuable coiUrilmtor. being the author of n papers
in the M/nvr and nine in the Lcun^cr, His papers

VOL. I.

are distinguished by an ease and gentlemanlike turn
of expression, by a delicate and polished irony, by a
strain of manly, honourable, and virtuous sentiment."
Mackenzie states that they are also characterized bv
an unaffected tenderness, which he had displayed
even in his speeches as a barrister. After exempli-
fying almost every virtue, and acting for some years
in a public situation with the undivided applause of
the world. Lord Abercromby was cut off by a pul-
monary complaint at Falmouth, whither he had gone
for his health, on the 17th of November, 1795.

ABERCROMBY, John, the author of several
esteemed works on gardening, was the son of a re-
spectable gardener near Edinburgh, where he was
born about the year 1726. Having been bred by
his father to his own profession, he removed to
London at the early age of eighteen, and became a
workman in the gardens attached to the royal palaces.
Here he distinguished himself so much by his taste
in laying out grounds, that he was encouraged to
write upon the subject. Llis first work, however,
in order to give it greater weight, was pulilished
under the name of a then more eminent horticulturist,
Mr. Mawe, gardener to the Duke of Leeds, under
the title of Ma-i^'s Gardciicri CaUmiar. It soon
rose into notice, and still mamtains its place. The
editor of a subsequent edition of this work says, "The
general principles of gardening seem to be as cor-
rectly ascertained and clearly described by this
author, as by any that have succeeded him." And
fiirther, "The style of Abercromby, though some\\ hat
inelegant, and in some instances prolix, yet appears,
upon the whole, to be fully as concise, and at least n:^
correct and intelligible, as that of some of the more
modern and less original of his successors." Al)er-
cromby afterwards jiublished, under his own name.
the C'nnrrsdl Dktioiary of Gaydoiin^ iinJ J^ctitrr:.
in 4to; which was followed, in succe>>ion. by tl;c
GardLitcrs' Dictionary, the Gardiiu-ys /hi:iy .-Is.-:.'-
ta)it, the Gardriicrs' J'adc- Micum, the Ksldia:
Gardoicr and Ilol-bcd J-'owr. the Ih!-hcu.<c Gar-
dciicr, and numerous other work<, mo>t ot \\lr.c:i
attained to popularity. Alx-rcroniby. alter a u-eli;l
and virtuous life, died at London in iSC'. agt^i
about eiiihtv vears.

tlie

ABERCROMBIE. J-min. M.D.. wa^ o,
latest of that medical" scliool (f wiiiJ; Sc-ilai.'
is so iu>t'y i^nniii. He wa- horn in .Vi'L-r^iccr.. 1.1:
the lull of October. I 761, and wa, ;oii uf ihe Rev

1

JOHN ABERCROMBIE, M.D.

Mr. Abercrombic, who for many years was one of the
ministers of that town, and distinguished by his
piety and worth. The excellent training which
John enjoyed under such a parent, imparted that
high moral antl religious tone by which his whole
life was subsequently characterized. After a boy-
hood spent under the paternal roof, and the usual
routine of a classical education, he was sent, in con-
sequence of his choice of the medical profession,
to the university of Kdinburgh, at that time distin-
guished as the lx;>t medical school in tiie emjiire.
llere he applied to his studies with indefatigable
■ diligence, and while his fellow-students marked his
progress with admiration, they were not less struck
with the moral excellence of his character, and the
deep, practical, unohtru>ive piety by which, even
thus early, his whole life was regxilated. It was
this confirmed excellence of character, expressed
alike in action and conversation, combinetl with his
high professional talents and reputation, that after-
wards won for him the confidence of his patients,
and imparted to his attentions at the sick-bed a charm
that, of itself, was half the cure. When the usual
prescril)ed course of study at the medical classes was
tinishe<i, Mr. .\t)ercroml)ie gr.aduated at the uni-
versity of Kdinburgh on the 4th of June, 1S03, while
only in his twenty-second year, the subject of his
thesis l)eing Dc Fatmiate Alpiua. He then went
to London, and after a short period of study at the
scho<^)ls and hospitals of the metropolis, returned to
Edinburgh, and was admitted a fellow of the Royal
College of Surgeons on the I2t]i of November, 1804.
On this occasion his probationary essay, submitted
to the jiresident and council, entitled On Paralysis
of the I^riL'cr Kxtrcmitics from Diseased Spine, was
characterized by such clearness of thought and per-
spicuity of style, as fully mdicated the eminence
tiiat awaited him not only in his professional capa-
city, but also in the ranks of authorship.

Thus prepared, I)r. .\bercrombie, though still
young, and almo>t a stranger in Kdinburgh, resolved
to estal)li>h himself at once as a physician in tlie
northern capital, in--tead of commencing his career
in some more humble district. He accordingly took
a house in Nicolson ."street, and as a general or
family practitioner his re])utation continued to grow
from year to year without interruption. Even this,
however, was not enough for his active and benevo-
lent mind; and therefore, notwithstanding the in-
crease of business, and its teni]iting emoluments, he
gave much of his time to attendance on the poor, as
i>nc of the medical ofTicers of the Royal Public Dis-
jK-n^ary. Still <leeming his own ])ersonal exertions
insufficient, he would not re>t untd he had imparted
his enthu-.ia-.m to rithers; and therefore, wlien his
re|)Utation in clinical knowledge had gathered round
him a ho>t of pujiils cmulous t<i follow his example,
he divided the city into di-^tricts, to each of which
a few of the^e students were attached for medical
sujK.-rinten lence. In this way, while the health of the
liumhlcst of the population of I'.diubvirgh was cared
f. ir, an efficient cla^s of experienced ])liysicians was
trained f >r tiie kingdom at large. liesides this im-
portant service, i>n l>eiiig appointed vaccinator along
with I )r^. (lillespie and I'.ryce, he was enaliled to
take with them an active ]iart in intro'lucmg the
practice of the Jennerian discovery into Scotland.

At length, when, after a course of years, the jiro-
fc->sional exiKrrience and reputation of I)r. Aber-
crombic had reached their height, an event occiirnd
by which it was hoped their excellence would be
duly honoured. This was a vacancy in the chair
of medicine in the university of I->linburgh, through
the death of I )r. Grcgorv in 1S21. On this occasion

Dr. Abercrombie added his name to the list of
candidates, while his friends were sanguine in the
hope of his success. But town-councils are not
always infallible judges of scientific attainments,
and his application was unsuccessful. The follow-
ing list of his writings, which he presented to the
])rovost and town-council of Edinburgh, on announc-
ing himself as candidate for the chair, will suffi-
ciently show how his hours of literary leisure, amidst
a throng of jjrofessional occupations extending over
the preceding course of years, had been occupied
and improved: — On Diseases of the Spinal Marrow.
On Dropsy; particularly on some Modifications of
it to/iich are successfully treated by Plood-letting.
On Chronic Inflammation of the Brain and its
Membranes, including Researches on Hydrocephalus.
On Apoplexy. On Palsy. On Organic Diseases of
the Brain. On a Remarkable and Dangerous Affec-
tion, producing Difficulty of Breathitig in Infants.
On the Pathology of the Intestinal Canal. Part
I. — On Ileus. Ditto. Part II.- — On Inflam»iatio)i
of the Bcnvels. Ditto. Part III— On Diseases of
the Afucous Membranes of the Bozcels. On the
Pathology of Consumptive Diseases. On Ischuria
Penalis.

Afterthe decease of Dr. Gregory, Dr. Abercrombie,
although unsuccessful in liis a])plication for the chair
of medicine, succeeded him as consulting pliysician,
in which situation his services were often in demand,
not only in Edinburgh, but over the whole of vScot-
land. Pie was also appointed physician to the king
for Scotland — a mere title, it is true, but at the same
time one of those honorary titles which often stamp
the value of the man, and prove a passport to the
substantialities of eminence and wealth. In 1834,
his reputation was so completely fixed, that the uni-
versity of Oxford, departing from its usual routine
in behalf of the alumni of Scottish colleges, conferred
on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Medicine,
and in the following year he was elected lord-rector
of the Marischal College of Aberdeen. Besides
these, he held other offices of distinction, most of
which were connected with benevolent societies. In
tliis way his life went onward, and while he increased
in wealth and professional reputation, his ]iiety made
him the friend of the good, and his benevolence the
honoured of the poor. But all was brought to
an abrupt termination by his sudden death, at his
house in York I'lace, on the 14th of November,
1S44. On the morning of that day, ha\ing break-
fasted at nine o'clock, he retired to his jnivate room,
while several patients were waiting for him, and his
carriage standing at the d(ii)r. As nearly an hour
elapsed, his servant, alarmed at such unusual delay,
entered the room, and found his master l}ing ex-
tended and lifeless on the floor, his death having
been apparently all but instantaneous. It was found,
on vi. post mortem examination, that llie cause of his
tleath was the bursting of a coronary artery. Thus
unexpectedly was closed the life of one whom all
classes esteemed, and whose loss is still fell and re-
membered.

Dr. Abercrombie was distinguished not only
as a most eminent and successful medical i)racti-
tioner, but alsf) as an able and eloquent writer.
.\t first his exertions in authorship were confined
to the I'.dinhurgh Medical and .Surgical Journal,
and other similar jirofessional ])eriodicals; but when
his literary streni;th was matured, he jiroduced a
separate treatise entitled Pathological and Practical
Researches on Diseases of the Brain and the .Spinal
Cord, Ivlinburgh, 1828, 8vo. This work, vhich
a!)ounds in pure scientific knowledge, and evinces
his ]irofuund research into mental character, as con-

PATRICK ABERCROMBY

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

nected with physical condition and action, was fol-
lowed in the same year by another of still hij^her
merit, having for its title Pathological and Prac-
tical Researches on the Diseases of the Intestinal
Canal, Lmer, and other Viscera of the Abdomen,
Edinburgh, 1828, 8vo. These, however, though so
highly meritorious, were but prelusive efforts to
something still more important; and after a careful
study and arrangement of the materials which he
had been accumulating for years, he produced two
works; the one entitled Inquiries concerning the
Intellectual Po^cers, and the Investigation of 7'ruth,
Edinburgh, 1830, 8vo: and the other, I he Philo-
sophy of the Moral Feelings, London, 1833, ^^'O-
Upon these works, of which the latter is a sequel to
the former, his literary reputation will chiefly rest;
and they will always continue to be prized by the
reflective mind, from the views which they unfold of
the intellectual and moral nature of man, and the
harmonious combination which exists between the
truths of science and the revelations of Christianity.
Independently, however, of these writings, so dis-
tinguished by their profound medical, ethical, and
metaphysical knowledge, and so practical in their
bearings. Dr. Abercrombie's pen was employed on
the subjects of humble every-day usefulness, and
pure unmixed religion and vital godliness; so that
shortly after the publication of his Philosophy of
the Moral Feelings, he produced his Treatise on
the Aforal Condition of the Linoer Classes in Edin-
burgh; and subsequently. The FJemenls of Sacred
Truth, which were first published singly and at
intervals, and afterwards collected into a small
volume. "These tracts," an able reviewer has ob-
served, "reflect the highest honour on Dr. Aber-
crombie. It is beautiful to see an individual of his
professional celebrity thus dedicating his talents and
a portion of his time to religious instruction. Such
an example is above all praise."

ABERCROMBY, Patrick, historian, was the
third son of Alexander Abercromby of Fetterneir,
in Aberdeenshire, a branch of the house of Birken-
bog in Banffshire, which again derived its descent
from Abercromby of Abercromby in Fife. Francis,
the eldest son of Abercromby of Fetterneir, was
created Lord Glassford in 16S5; but as the patent,
by an extraordinary restriction, was limited to his
own life only, the title did not descend to his chil-
dren. Patrick Abercromby was bom at Forfar in
1656, and was educated at the university of St.
Andrews, where he took the degree of Doctor in Medi-
cine in 16S5. His family being eminently loyal, the
young physician is said to liave changed his religion
to please James VH., who consequently made him
one of the physicians of the court. A proceeding so
<lishonest and time-serving was speedily and severely
punished; for, at the Revolution, Abercroml)y was
deprived of his appointment. For some years after
he ajipears to have lived aliroad; but he returned to
Scotland in the reign of Queen Anne, and devoted
himself to the study of national antiquities. In
1707, he published a translation of M. Beauge's
very rare book, F Histoire de la Guerre d'Fcosse,
1556, under the title of The History of the Cam-
pagnes 1 548 (7//</ 1549; "being an exact account of
the NLirti-il Fxpeditions performed in those davs bv
tiie ."^cots an<i French on the one hand, and tlie
English and tiieir foreign auxiliaries on the other:
ilone in French by Mons. Beauge, a French gentle-
man; witli an introductor)' preface by the Translator."
In the preface, the ancient alliance between Scotland
and France is strenuously asserted. This curious
French work, which gives a complete account of the

war carried on by the Popish government of Cardinal
Beatoun, aided by the French, against the English
under Protector Somerset, was reprinted in the
original Ijy Mr. Smythe of Methven for the Bannatyne
Club, 1829, along with a preface, giving an account
of Abercrondjy's translation. The great W(jrk of
Dr. Abercromby is in two volumes, folio, entitled,
The Martial Achiez'ements of the Scots Nation. He
tells us in the preface, that, not venturing to write
regular history or biography, he had resolved to re-
late the deeds of all the great men of his country, in
a less ambitious strain, and with a more minute at-
tention to small facts, than is compatible with those
styles of composition. He also, with great modesty,
apologizes for his manner of writing by saying,
" When my reader is told that 'twas my fate to spend
most part of my youth in foreign countries, to have
but viewed, en passant, the south jjart of Britain, and
to have been conversant with Roman and French
rather than with English authors, he will not expect
from me those modish turns of phrase, nor that exact
propriety of words, Scotsmen, by reason of their
distance from the fountain of custom, so seldom
attain to." The first volume of the Martial Achieve-
ments wse^ published, in 1711, by Mr. Robert Free-
bairn, and shows a respectable list of subscribers.
About one-half of it is occupied by the early fabulous
history of Scotland, in which the author, like almost
all men of his time, and especially the Jacobites,
was a devout believer. It closes with the end of the
reign of Robert Bruce. The second volume appeared,
with a still more numerous and respectable list of
subscribers, in 171 5; it was partly printed by Free-
bairn, and partly by Thomas Ruddiman, who not
only corrected the manuscript, but superintended its
progress through the press. This is said by Chalmers
to have been the first tyjjographical effort of Ruddi-
man. Abercromby's Martial Achieventoits is upon
the whole a very creditable work for a Scottish anti-
quary of that period; the author is not superior to
the credulity of his age and party, but he is eminently
industrious, and his narrative is written in an enter-
taining style. The work shows a wide range of
authorities, and is liberally interspersed with contro-
versial discussions of the points most contested by
antiquaries. Dr. Patrick Abercromby died poor in
1 7 16, or, as other writers say, in 1726, leaving a
widow in distressed circumstances.

ABERCROMBY, Sir Rai.ph, a distinguished
general, under whom the British arms met their first
success in the French revolutionan.- war, was the
eldest son of George Abercromby of Tullibody, in
Clackmannanshire, a gentleman of ancient and re-
spectable family, and of Maiy, daughter of Kaljih
Dundas of Manor. lie was born at Menstrie, in th.e
parish of Logic, on the 7th October, 1734. His
education seems to have been regarded with more
care than was usually manifesteil by the ."Scottish
country gentlemen of the early and middle ]'arts of
the last century. After passing through the cu^to^la^y
course at Rugbv, he became a student, fir.-t in the
university of lOdinburgh, and subsequently in that of
Ciottingen. He entereil the army, as cornet in the
3d dragoon guards. May 23. 1756, and liccan'.e a
lieutenant, in the same regiment, in the year 17(10:
which rank he held till AjTil, 1762, when he obtained
a company in the 3d horse. In tliis regimeiU lie r'-e,
in 1770, to the rank of majnr, and in 1773 to that c :
lieutenant-colonel. He was included ;n ilic 1>". ''!
brevet-colonels in 17S0, and in 17S1 \\.!- made
colonel of th.e 103d. or king's Iri-h ir.i'.-ir.ry. a ikw
regiment, whicli ^\■as broke:! at tlie ]'oai.c 1:1 '7^3'
when Cu!>.'nel Aberv'runibv was iilaccd en ha.i-i'ay.

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBV.

It may be noticed in passing that he represented the
shire of Kinross in the British parUament from 1774
till 17S0; but made no attempt to render himself
conspicuous, either as a party-man or as a politician.
In September, 17S7, he was promoted to the rank
of major-general, and next year obtained the com-
mand of the 69th foot. From this coqis he was, in
1792, removed to the 6th foot: from that again to
the 5lh; and in November, 1796, to the 2d dragoons,
or Scots Cireys.

On the breaking out of the French revolutionary
war, Abercromby held tlie local rank of lieutenant-
general, and servetl with di^tinguishcd honour in the
campaigns of 1 794 and 1795, under the Duke of
York. He commanded the advanced-guard in the
affair of Cateau (April 16, 1794K in which Chapuy,
the French general, wxs taken ]'>risoner, and thirty-
five pieces of cannon fell into the hands of the
British. In the reverses that followed, the British
armv escajx-d entire destruction solely by the mas-
terly mana'uvres of Al>ercromby, who was second in
comm.and. He was wounded at Nimeguen, in the
montli of ( )ctoI)er following; notwithstanding which,
the ardui>us service of conducting the retreat through
Holland in the dreadfully severe winter of 1794, was
devolved wholly upon him and General Dundas.
Than this retreat nothing could be conceived more
calamitous. The troops did all that could be ex-
pectevl from them in their tr)ing situation. Oppressed
by numbers, and having lost all their stores, they
made good their retreat in the face of the foe, amidst
the rigours of a singularly severe winter; while for
the removal of the sick, nothing could be procured
but open waggons, in which they were exposed to
the intense severity of the weather, to drifting snows
and heavy falls of sleet and rain. The mortality, of
course, was very great. The regiments were so
scattered, marching through tlie snow, that no returns
could be made out, and both men and horses were
foun'l in great numbers fro/en to death. "The
march," says an eye-witness, " was marked by scenes
of the most calamitous nature. We could not pro-
cee<l a hundred yards without seeing the dead bodies
of men, wtjmen, children, and horses, in every di-
rection. One scene," adds the writer, "made an
impressirjn on my mind which time will never be able
to efface. Near a cart, a little further in the com-
tnon, we perceived a stout-lo<iking man ami a beauti-
ful young woman, with an infant about seven months
oil at the breast, all three frozen dead. The mother
had m')st certainly died in the act of suckling her
child, a>, with one breast exposed, she lay upon the
drifted -now, the milk, to all aii]jearancc, in a stream
drawn from t!ie nipple by the babe, and instantly
congealed. The infant secme<i as if its li]is had just
then bjcn disengaged, and it rcposecl its little head
upon the mother's ho-oni, with an ovcrllow <jf milk
frozen as it trickled down from its mouth, 'iheir
countenances were jK-rfectly coiri])osed and fresh, as
if they had only been in a sound and tranijuil shun-
l)er. " The liritish army reached 1 )evcnter after in-
credible exertion, on the 27th of January, 1795; but
they were not ab!_' to maintain the position, being
closely jiur-ued by a well-aii])oiiited army, u])wards
of 50,000 stning. They continued their ]>rogress,
alternately fighting and retreating, till the eml
of March, when tlie main bodv, now reduced one-
half, reach'-d Itremen, where they were embarked
f,r F.ngland.

While the French were making tho<;e gigantic
cfTorts at home which confoun'led all previous cal-
culations in I'.urfvpean warfare, their struggles .-ibro.id
were equally startling. They repossessed themselves
in the West Indies of (iuadeloupe and St. I.ucia,

established a landing upon several points in the
island of Martinique, and made partial descents on
the islands of St. Vincent, Grenada, and Marie
Galante. In these various incursions they plundered,
in the several islands, property to the amount of one
thousand eight hundred millions of livres (about
;^72,ooo,cxx)). To put an end to these ruinous
depredations, a fleet was fitted out in the autumn of
the year 1 795, for the purpose of conveying a military
force to the West Indies; and the charge of the land
troops was given to Sir Ralph Abercromby, with
the appointment of commander-in-chief. He took
the command, and hastened the embarkation; and
although the equinox overtook them, so that several
of the transports were lost in the Channel, the fleet
made the best of its way to the W'est Indies, and by
the month of March, 1796, the troops were landed
and in active operation. St. Lucia was speedily
captured by a detachment of the army under Sir
John Moore, as were St. Vincent and Grenada by
another under General Knox. The Dutch colonies,
Demerara, Essequibo, and Berbice, on the coast of
Guiana, likewise fell into the hands of the British
about the same time, almost without stroke of
sword. The remainder of 1796 having been thus
employed, Sir Ralph made preparations for attack-
ing, early in 1797, the Spanish island of Trinidad.
For this purpose, the fleet sailed with all the trans-
ports, from the island of Curacao on the morning
of the 15th February, 1797, and next day passed
through the Barns into the Gulf of Bria, Avhere they
found the Spanish admiral, with four sail of the line
and one frigate, at anchor, under cover of the island
of Gasj^agrande, which was strongly fortified. The
British squadron immediately anchored opposite, and
almost within gunshot of the Spanish ships. The
frigates, with the transports, were sent to anchor
higher up the bay, at the distance of about five miles
from the town of Port d'Espagne. Dispositions were
immediately made for attacking the town and the
ships of war next morning by break of day. By
two o'clock of the morning, however, the Spanish
stjuadron was observed to be on fire. The ships
burned verj' fast, one only escaping the conflagration,
which was taken possession oi by the British. The
Spaniards, when they set their sliips of war on fire,
had also evacuated the island. The troops under
Sir Ralph Abercromby were of course landed
without opjiosition, and the whole colony fell into
the hands of the P)ritish. Sir Ralph next made an
attack upon Porto Rico, in which he was unsuccess-
ful; and shortly after he returned to Britain, and was
received with every mark of respect. lie had, in
his absence, been comiiliniented with the colonelcy
of the second dragoons or Scots Greys, and nominated
governor of the Isle of Wight. He was now (1797)
advanced to the dignity of the Bath, raised to the
rank of a lieutenant-general, and invested with the
lucrative governments of Fort Cleorge and Fort
Augustus.

The distuib.'d state of Ireland at this time calling
for the utnio-l vigilance, Sir Raljih .Mieicmniby
was a])])<iinte 1 to the command of the forces in that
unhap))y country, where he exerted himself most
strenuously, tliough with ]>artial success, t<j su]i])ress
rebellion and preserve order. He was ]iarticularly
anxious, by the strictest disci])line, to restore the
reputation of the army; for, according to his own
emphatic declaiation, it had become more formidable
to its frien<K than to its enemies. ])uriiig this com-
mand he did not require to direct any military
o]ierations in jierson; and the Marquis Cornwallis
having received the double ap])ointnient of lord-
lieutenant and commander-in-chief of the foixes, Sir

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

Ralph transferred liis head-quarters to Edinburgh,
and, on 31st of May, assumed the command of the
forces in Scotland, to which he had Ixsen appointed.
In the year 1799, an expedition having been
planned for Holland to restore the Prince of Orange
to the stadtholdership. Sir Ralph was again selected
to take the chief command. The troops destined
for this service sailed on the 13th of August, under
convoy of the fleet commanded by Vice-admiral
Mitchell, and, after encountering heavy gales, came
to anchor o(T the Texel, on the 22d of the month.
On the 27th the troops were disembarked to the
south-west of the Helder point, without opposition.
.Scarcely had they begim to move, however, when
they were attacked by General Daendels, and a
warm but irregular action was kept up from five
o'clock in the morning till five in the afternoon,
after which the enemy retired, leaving the British in
possession of a ridge of sand-hills stretching along
the coast from south to north. In this day's evolu-
tions the enemy lost upwards of looo men, and
the British about half that number. Encouraged
by this success, Sir Ralph Abercromby determined
to seize upon the Helder next morning, when he
would be in possession of a seaport, an arsenal, and
a fleet. The brigades of Generals Moore and Burrard
were ordered to be in readiness to make the attack
early in the morning; but the garrison was withdrawn
through the night, leaving a considerable train of
artillery, a naval magazine, thirteen ships of war,
and three Indiamen, which fell into the hands of the
British without opposition. Admiral Mitchell im-
merliately stood down into the Texel, and offered
battle to the Dutch fleet lying there; the whole
of which, consisting of twelve sail of the line,
surrendered to the British admiral, the sailors refus-
ing to fight, and compelling their officers to give up
tlie ships for the service of the Prince of Orange.
Taking the surrender of the fleet as the criterion of
Dutch feeling, the most extravagant hopes of the
success of the expedition were entertained by the
jieople of England ; but the sentiments of the
Hollanders, generally, were not as yet in unison
with those of the sailors, and every precaution was
taken for defence. The British army, in the mean-
time, left the sand-hills and took up a new position,
tiieir right extending to Petten, on the German
Ocean, and tlieir left to Oude Sluys on the Zuyder
Zee. A fertile country was thus laid open to the
invaders; while the canal of Zuyper, immediately in
front, contributed to strengthen their position, enabl-
ing them to remain on the defensive until the arrival
of additional forces. At daybreak of I ith -Sejitember,
the combined Dutch and French army attacked the
centre and right of the British lines, from St. Martins
to Petten, with a force of 10,000 men, which ad-
vanced in three columns; the right, composed of
Diitcli troops commanded by General Daendels,
against St. Martins; the centre, under De Monceau,
upon Zuyjier Sluys; and the left, composed entirely
of Frencli troops under General Bnine, upon
Petten. The attack, particularly on the left and
centre, was made with the most daring intrepidity,
but was rcinilsed l)y the British, anil the enemy
lost upwards (if looo men. On this occasion.
General Sir Juhu Moore was ojiposed to General
Bnme, and distinguished himself by the most masterlv
manoeuvres; and, had tlie British been snfficientlv
numerous to follow up tiieir advant.ige. the United
Provinces might have shaken otT the French voke
even at this early period. The want of numbers
was felt too late; but, to remedy the evil, the
Russian troops engaged for the expediti(Mi were
hastily embarked at the [lorts of Cronstadt and

Revel, to the number of I7,cxx), under the command
of General D'Hermann, and were speedily upon the
scene of action. The Duke of York now arrived as
commander-in-chief; and his army, with the Russians
and some battalions of Dutch trooj)s, formed of
deserters from the Batavian army and volunteers from
the Dutch ships, amounted to upwards of 36,000
men, a force considerably superior to that under
Generals Daendels and Brune. In consequence of
this, the Duke of York, in concert with D'Hermann,
made an immediate attack upon the enemy's position,
which was on the heights of Camperdown, and along
the high sand-hills extending from the sea, in front of
Petten, to the town of Bergen-op-zoom. The enemy's
deficiency of numbers was far more than counter-
balanced by the advantages of their position; im-
proved, as it was, by strong entrenchments at the
intermediate villages, and by the nature of the ground,
intersected by wet ditches and canals, whose Ijridges
had been removed, and the roads rendered impass-
able, either by being broken up, or by means of
felled trees stuck in the earth, and placed horizontally,
so as to present an almost impenetrable barrier.
The attack, however, notwithstanding all disadvan-
tages, was made with the most determined resolution,
early on the morning of the 19th of September, and
was successful at all points. By eight o'clock in the
morning, the Russians, under D'Hermann, had made
themselves masters of Bergen-op-zoom; but they no
sooner found the place evacuated, than they flew
upon the spoil, and began to plunder the citizens
whom they had professedly come to relieve. The
vigilant enemy seized the opportunity to rally his
broken battalions, and, being reinforced from the
garrison at Alkmaar, attacked the dispersed Russians
with so much impetuosity, that the latter were driven
from Bergen-op-zoom to Schorel, with the loss of
Generals D'Hennann and Tcherchekoff, wounded
and taken prisoners. This failure of the Russians
compelled the other three columns of the British
army to abandon the positions they had already
stormed, and return to the station they had left
in the morning. For this disappointment 3000
prisoners taken in the engagement was but a poor
recompense; while the impression made upon the
minds of the Dutch by the conduct of the Russians
was incalculaljiv injurious to the objects of the
expedition. The conflict was renewed on the 2d
of October, by another attack on the whole line
of the enemy, the troops advancing, as before, in
four columns, under Generals Abercromby, D'Esson,
Dundas, and Pulteney. The centre ascended the
sand-hills at Campe, and carried the heights of
-Schorel; and, after a vigorous contest, the Russians
and British obtained possession of the whole range
of sand-hills in the neighbourhood of Bergcn-o;i-
zoom; but the severest conflict, and that %\hie!i
decided the fate of the day, was sustained l>y tl;e
first column under Sir Ralph .\bercroniby. He liad
marched without opposition to within a mile of
Egmont-op-zee, where a large body of cavalry and
infantr}- waited to receive him. Here Sir John
.Moore led his brig.ide to the charge in person; he
was met by a counter-charge of the enemy, and ihc
conflict was maintained til! evening \\ ith unexani] led
fury. The Marquis of Huntly. wlio, with his regiment
(the ninety-second), was (.■minesitly (listing;;isb.t'!,
received a wound bv a nnisket-ball in the slinui'ier;
and General Sir John Moore, after receivii'.g t\\o
severe wounds, Mas reluctantly carried ott ti.e tie!'!.
Sir Ralj-ih .\l>ercroml)y had two horses s!;..; v.r.^ier
him, but he continue'! to animate tlie tn.-]- !.y Ir.s
exam]Vie, and tlie iiTi-t i!esrer:i;e cii"r;< >■': tl-e
enemy wcvc uiia\ ailing. Tlieir I'j-s in t;;;s u^.ys

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

engagement was upwards of 4000 men. During
the night they abandoned their posts on the Lange
Dyke and at Bergen-op-zooni, and next day tlie
British took up the positions that had been occupied
by the French at Alkmaar and Egmont-op-zee.
Brune having taken up a strong position between
Beverwyck and tlie Zuyder Zee, it was determined to
dislotlge him before the arrival of his daily-exj)ected
reinforcements. In the first movements made for
this purpose the British met with little opposition;
but the Russians uiuler General D'Ksson, attempt-
ing to gain a height near Buccum, were suddenly
charged by an overwhelming b.xly of the enemy.
Sir Ralph .VlKTcromby, observing the critical situa-
tion of the Russians, hasteneil with his column to
support them. The enemy also sent up fresh forces,
and the action, undesignedly by either party, became
general along the whole line, from I.emmen to the
se.a, anil was contested on both sides with the most
determined obstinacy, .\bout two o'clock in tlie
afternoon, the right and centre of the .\nglo- Russian
army iK'gan to lose grounil, ami retire upon Egmont;
where, with the co-operation of the brigade under
Major-general Coote, they succeeded in keeping the
enemy in check during the remainder of the day.
Evenmg closed over the combatants, darkened by
deluges of rain; yet the work of mutual destruction
knew no intermission. The fire of musketiy, wliich
ran in undulating lines along the hills, with the
thunder-flash of the artillery, and the fiery train of
the death-charged shell, lighted up with momentary
and fuful blaze the whole horizon. About ten
o'clock at night, woni out by such a lengthened
period of exertion, though tlicir mutual hostility
was not in the least abated, the contending parties
ccascil fighting, and the British were left in posses-
sion of the ground upon which they had fought,
with upwards of 2000 of tiicir companions lying
dead .nround them. General Brune was, in the
course of the night or next morning, reinforced
by an ad 1 tion of 6ooo men, and the ground he
occup td was by nature and art rendered nearly
impregnab'e. The British Lay through the night
expo-cd t > the weather, which was terrible, on the
naked -an i-hills; their clothing drenched, and their
arms and ammunition rendered useless by the rain.
Nor was th'j inho>pitality of the people' less than
that of the dements; the greater part being violently
ho>>tiie, and the remainder sunk in supine indifference.
Retreat was tlieref )ro a measure of necessity, and
next night, the 7th of October, about ten o'clock,
ami<Kt a deluge of rain, the troo]is marched back to
their fmner station at I'etten an<l .Mknmar, which
they reached without immediate pursuit or any
seri'iu-. lo>s. T.i embark, however, upon sucli a
shore, and in the face of such an enemv, without
great h-.. was inip.s^jble; an<l, to ])revent the
unncce--ary efl'ii^i..n -.f hlool, .in armistice was ])ro-
ivjsed by the Duke of \'ork, till the troop, should
be quietly embarked. T!ie I'rench general wa-,
willing to accede to the ])roi>nsal, provided the
Dutch fleet were restore i. anil'all forts, dyke-,, \c.
cSl-c, left as they h.ad been taken; or, if any im-
provements h.ad lieen made ujion them, in their
impr..ved state. To the lir-t j.art of the iir-ipo^al
the duke utterly refiised fir a moment \n listen; and,
>)eing in po^e^^ion of the principal dvke-, he
threatened to break them down an<l inundate the
country. The fleet wa- not given uji; but in lieu
thereof, .Sooo French and Hutch prisoners, that had
l)ecn taken previous to this campaign, were to l)e
restored, with all that had been taken in it. the
Dutch seamen cxccj>ted. The trooi)s were inst.inily
embarked, and safely handed in England, with the

exception of the Russians, who were landed in the
islands of Guernsey and Jersey. Though this ex-
pedition totally failed in its main object — the libera-
tion of Holland — it was not without advantage.
The capture of the Dutch fleet, in the then state of
affairs, was of very considerable importance. Nor
was the impression it left upon the enemy of the
superior skill of British officers, particularly of the
sul)ject of this memoir, and the daring valour of
British troops, without its use in the succeeding
periods of the war.

.Sir Ralph Abercromby, now a universal favourite,
and esteemed the most skilful officer in the British
service, was appointed in the month of June, 1800,
to command the troops sent out upon a secret ex-
pedition to the Mediterranean, and which were for
the time quartered on the island of Minorca, where
he arrived on the 22d of June. The very next day
the troops were embarked for Leghorn, where they
arrived on the 9th of July; but in consequence of an
armistice between the French and the Austrians,
they were not allowed to land. Part of them now
proceeded to MaUa, and the remainder sailed back
to Minorca. Sir Ralph himself returned to that island
on the 26th of July, and on the 3d of .September the
troops were again embarked, and on the 14th the
fleet came to anchor off Europa Point in the Bay of
Gibraltar. On the 20th the armament sailed for the
Bay of Tetuan to procure water, and on the 23d
returned to Gibraltar. In a few days the fleet was
again ordered to rendezvous in the Bay of Tetuan;
and, on the 30th of October, the whole, consisting of
u])wards of two hundred sail, came to anchor off
Cadiz, and preparations were made for landing the
troops without delay. On the 6th the troops got
into the boats, and everything was ready for the
disembarkation. In consequence of a flag of truce
from the shore, the landing was delayed, and in the
afternoon the troops returned to their respective
ships. The negotiations between the commanders
having failed, the order was renewed for disembark-
ing the troops next day. This order was again
countermanded about midnight; the morning became
stormy, and at break of day the signal was made for
the fleet to weigh, and by the afternoon the whole
fleet was again under sail. Part of the forces were
now ordered for Portugal under the command of
General Sir James Pulteney, and the remainder for
Malta, where they arrived about the middle of
November. Than this sailing backwards and for-
wards, nothing was ever exhibited more strongly
indicative of extreme folly and absolute imbecility in
the national councils.

It was now resolved by the liritish government
to drive the I'Vench out of J{gy]")t, and the armament
which had uselessly rolled about the -Mediterranean
for so many months, was a]ipointed for that purpose.
.Sir Ralph Abercromby, accordingly, embarked at
Malta on the 20th of December for the B.ay of
Marmorice, on the coast of Caramania; where cavalry
horses were to be procured, and stores collected for
the expedition, which, it was calculated, would sail
for .'Mexandria by the 1st of January, 1801. Many
things, however, occurred to retard their jirepara-
tions. Among others of a like nature, three hundred
horses, jnirchased by order of Lord I'dgin, the British
ambassador at Constantinople, were found, when
tiiey arrived at Marmorice, so small and s(^ galled
in tiieir backs, as to be of no use, so that it was
found necessary to shoot some, and to sell others at
the low jiricc of a dollar a-])iece. It was believed
that Lord Elgin had paid for a very different descrip-
tion of horses, but the ])ersons to whose care they
iiatl Ik'cu c(jnfided had found their account in chaiu:-

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

ing them by the way. Good horses were procured
by parties sent into the country for that purpose;
but the sailing of the expedition was in consequence
delayed till the end of February, instead of the first
of January, as had been originally intended; and
from the state of the weather, and other casualties,
the landing could not be attempted liefore the 8th
of March, on which day it was accomplished in
Aboukir Hay, in a manner that reflected the highest
honour on the British troops. During this delay
Bonaparte had found means to reinforce his army in
Egypt, and furnish it with all necessary stores; and
the weather preventing the immediate disembarka-
tion of the troops, enabled the French to make
every preparation to receive them. The sand-hills
which form the coast they had lined with numerous
bodies of infantry, and every height was bristling
with artillery. A most tremendous discharge of
grapeshot and shells from the batteries, and of
musketry from the infantry that lined the shore,
seemed for a moment to stay the progress of the
boats as they approached. But it was only for a
moment. The rowers swept through the iron
tempest to the beach; the troops leaped on shore,
formed as they advanced, and rushing up the
slippery declivity without firing a shot, drove the
enemy from their position at the point of the bayonet.
Successive bodies, as they were disembarked, pro-
ceeded to the help of their precursors; in spite of
every obstruction, the whole army was landed before
night; and Sir Ralph Abercromby, advancing three
miles into the country, took up a position with his
right resting upon Lake Madyeh or Aboukir, and his
left stretching to the Mediterranean. On the 1 2th
he moved forsvard to attack the French, who were
most advantageously posted on a ridge of sand-hills,
their right towards the sea, and their left resting
ujjon the canal of Alexandria. On the morning of
the 13th, the army marched in two lines by the left,
to turn the right tiank of the enemy. Aware of this,
the Frencii, with their whole cavalry, and a con-
siderable body of infantr)-, poured down from the
heights and attacked the heads of both lines, but
were repulsed by the advanced-guard, consisting of
the 90th and 92d regiments, with incomparable
gallantry. Tlie first line then formed into two, and
advanced, while the second line turned the right of
the French army, and drove it from its position.
The enemy, however, made a regular retreat, and
contested every inch of ground till they had reached
the heights of Nicopolis, which form the principal
defence of Alexandria. Anxious to carry these
heights, .Sir Ralph .\bercroml)y unfortunately ordered
forward the reserve under Sir John Moore, and the
second line under General Ilutcheson, to attack (the
latter the right, and the former the left) both flanks
at once. Advancing into the open plain, they were
exposed to the whole range of the enemy's shot,
which they had it not in their power to return; and,
after all, the jiosition was f<nind to be commanded
by the guns of the forts of Alexandria, so that it
could nut have been kept though tliey had stormed
it. They were accordingly withdrawn, but with a
most seriiHH loss of men; and the British army took
up the ground from which the enemy had' been
driven, occupying a position with its right to the
sea and its loft to the canal of .Vlexandria; a situa-
tion of great advantage, as it cut off all communica-
tion with Alexandria, cxcc]n by the wav of the
desert. In this action. Sir Ralph was nearlv
envelo]3cd in the charge of the French cavalrv, and
was only saved by tlie intrepidity of the 90th
regiment. The garrisun of Aboukir surrendered on
the iSth; but to cuuiUcrbalance this advantage,

the French commander-in-chief, Mcnou, arrived at
Alexandria from Cairo on the 20th, with a rein-
forcement of 9CXX) men. Expecting to take the
British by surprise, Menou, next morning, March
the 2 1 St, between three and four o'clock, attacked
their position with his whole force, amounting to from
1 1,000 to 12,000 men. The action was commenced
by a false attack on the left, their main strength
being directed against the right, upon which they
advanced in great force and with a prodigi<jus noise,
shouting, "Vive la France! Vive la Re])ubli'iue 1"
They were received, however, with perfect coolness
by the British troops, who not only checked the
impetuosity of the infantry, but repulsed several
charges of cavalry. Greater courage was perhaps
never exhibited than on this occasion: the different
corps of both nations rivalled each other in the most
determined bravery, and presented the extraordinary
spectacle of an engagement in front, flanks, and rear,
at the same time; so much were the contending
parties intermingled. Nine hundred of Bonaparte's
best soldiers, and from their tried valour denominated
Invincibles, succeeded in turning the right of the
British, between the walls of a large ruin and a
battery. Three times did they storm the battery,
and three times were the successive jiarlies ex-
terminated. Getting at last into the rear of the
reserve, the 42d and the 28th regiments charged
them with the bayonet, and drove them step by
step into the inclosure of the ruin; where, between
600 and 700 of them being already stretched life-
less on the ground, the remainder called out for
quarter, and were made prisoners. Not one of them
returned. Equally determined was their attack on
the centre, and it was there repelled with equal
success. A heavy column having broken through
the line, the cavalry accompanying it wheeled to
their left and charged the rear of the reserse; but
this charge was broken by the accidental state of
the ground, which had been excavated into pit-
holes about three feet deep, for the men to sleep in
before the arrival of their camp equipage. Over
these holes they had to make their charge, and in
consequence were completely routed, more than 300
of them being left dead on the spot. P'inding all
his movements frustrated, Menou at length ordered
a retreat, which he was able to effect in good
order; the British having too few cavalry to pursue.
His loss was supposed to be between 3000 and
4000 men, including many officers, among whom
were General Raize, commander of the cavaln.-, who
fell in the field, and two generals who died of their
wounds. The loss of the l>ritish was also heavy,
upwards of seventy officers being killed, woundc<l,
and missing. Among these was the lamented com-
mander-in-chief. Having hastened, on the hi.--t
alarm, towards the cannonading. Sir Ralph nni>t
have ridden straight among the enemy, who had
already broken the front line and got into its rear.
It was not yet day, and being unable to distinguish
friend from foe, he must have been enii)arra»cd
among the assailants, but he was extricated by tlie
valour of his troops. To the fir>t -oldicr that (.air.e
up to him. he said, "Soldier, if you know nie. il.'i: t
name me." A French dragoon, at the nioincnt. con-
jecturing the prize he had l(3>t, r(^iie uji to Mr K-il; n.
and matie a cut at him, but not being ni-ar eiv r.j^h,
only cut through the clotho, ami gra/cl tlu- ^'ts■.n
with the point of his sabre. The dragocn's ]i"r>e
wheeling about, brought him again to -iic >.!i.-;rgc,
and he made a second attempt by a !oii:'.^-c. but the
sabre passed bet\\-een Sir Ralph',- >i'!c r.ui h;- ngh.t
arm. The dragoon l)e;iig at the ii;-;."i!.t .-!^ t dLao,
the sabre remained with the geiier.;!. .\:>':'Ut the

3

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY

EARL OF ABERDEEN.

same time it was discoveretl that he had been
wounded in the thigh, and was entreated to have
the wound examinetl; but he treatetl it as a trifle,
and would not for a moment leave the field. No
sooner, however, had the enemy begun to retreat,
and the excitement of feeling under which he had
been acting to subside, than he faintetl from pain and
the loss of blootl. His wound was now examined,
and a large incision made in order to extract the
ball, but It could not be found. He was then put
upon a litter, and carried aboard the Foudroviint,
where he langui.shed till the aSth, when he dieil.
His botly was interred in the burial-ground of the
commandery of the grand-master, untier the walls
of the castle of St. Elan, near the town of Valetta
in Malta.

Of the character of Sir Ralph Abercromby there
can be but one opinion. Bred to arms almost from
his infancy, he appeared to be formed for command.
His dispositions were always masterly, and his
success certain. He had served in .\merica, in the
West Indies, in Ireland, in the Netherlands, in
Holland, and in Egypt; and had in all of these
countries gainetl great distinction. In the two
latter countries, esjiecially, he jierformed services
that were of incalculable advantage to his country.
The battle of the 2 1st of March, or of Alexandria,
while it decided the fate of Egypt, left an impression
of Briti>h skill an<l of Britisli valour upon the minds
of lx)th her friends and her enemies, that materially
contributed to the splendid results of a contest longer
in continuance, and involving interests of greater
magnitude, than Britain had ever before been en-
gage<l in. The manner in which he repressed the
licentiousness of the troops in Ireland was at once
magnanimous and elTective; and he ended a life of
dignifie<l exertion by a death worthy of a hero.
"\Vc have su,--tained an irreparal.)le loss," says his
successor, "in the ]>erson of our never enough to
be lamented commander-in-chief, Sir Ralph Aber-
cromby; but it is some consolation to those who
tenderly loved him, that, as his life was honourable,
so was his death glorious. His memory will be
rccorde<l in the annals of his country', will be sacred
to every l'.riti>h sol'lier, and embalmed in the recol-
lection of a grateful posterity." '

.Sir Ralph .Miercromhy was married to Mary
.\nne, d.iughter of John .NIenzies of Fernton, Perth-
shire; by whom he had issue four sons and three
daughter^, who survived him. On the official
account reaching England of the fate of her lamented
husband, his wid'iw was elevated to the ])eerage,
-May 2Slh. iSoi, as Baroness .Xhercromby of .Vbou'kir
and Tullib'Kiy, with remainder to the heirs-male of
the <lece.ascd general; and, on the recommendation
of his in.ijesty, the House of Commons, without one
dissentient voice, granted an annuity of two thousand
jHDumis to I„ady .Ahercronihy, and tlie next two
succeeding male heirs of the l,o<ly of Sir Raljili
AI>ercromi)y, to whom the title of Baron .•\i)ercronil)v
.should de-cend. The House of Conim'>ns, farther,
sensible of the great merits of this distinguished
British commander, voted a monument to his

' The f.ll'.wlns p.incKvnc ii;>^in Sir Kali.li in :in'.t)icr
ch.iractcr was wnttcn lx;f.iri; liis (Ic.th; " .As a u.uniry K-Mitlo
man, ever attentive to all within llie (iflcof hu in.veiniMii,
he >iland< high in the C'.tunati'in I'f his neichlciurs mv\ <l(.p<,n-
dants; an'l when his mihlary gl'iry shall have fallen into
oblivion, It will !<; gratefully reinenil«r'-'l that he was t!ie
frien'l of the 'lestitutc jvK.r. the jiatrm nf useful kn.wle'li;-,
anri the promoter of cdiiration ainnig the meanest if liis
cottagers: as an instance it may 1)C nientioncil. that in the
vilhgc of Tullil)fi<!y, on his paternal estate, a reading scho.il,
iini'er his immediate insp»;<-tion. was established many years
\i:i'-V." --Cam/>l>fli'l ynurnry through .ScctlatiJ, ^to, li-jz,

memor)', at the public expense, which was subse-
quently erected in St. Paul's Cathedral.

ABERDEEN, George Hamilton Gordon,
Fourth Earl of. This distinguished Conservative
statesman was the eldest son of George, Lord Haddo,
eldest son of the third ICarl of Aberdeen, and was
born in Edinburgh on the 28th of January, 1784.
He was not only bom but educated in Toryism; and
on being sent at the early age of ten to England, his
chief guardians and directors were William Pitt and
Lord Klelville. While he was thus trained to politi-
cal life, its particular bias in politics was also deter-
mined; and the Tory boy was father of the future
legislator and statesman. His classical education
was conducted first at the school of Harrow, and
after\vards at St. John's College, Cambridge. His
father. Lord Haddo, having previously deceased, the
subject of our memoir, on the death of his grand-
father at the commencement of the present century,
became Earl of Aberdeen. As the short-lived peace
of Amiens opened Europe to liritish tourists, the
young earl availed himself of the opportunity by
visiting France, and other parts of the continent,
and collecting that practical knowledge of men
and things which was afterw-ards available in his
future career; he also visited Greece, the adopted
country of the scholar and man of taste, and returned
to England through Turkey and Russia. This visit
to Greece, the oppressed and fallen, where every-
thing was in such contrast to its old heroic monu-
ments and remembrances, and the classical taste and
knowledge which he brought to such a study, awoke,
as was natural, the young earl's highest enthusiasm;
and on returning home, one of his first acts was to
establish the "Athenian Society," an essential rule
of which was that every member should have visited
Greece. He also contributed to the Edinburgh J\e-
view an elaborate article on the Topography of
Troy; and wrote an introduction to Wilkins' transla-
tion of Vitruvius, in which he illustrated the beauties
of the ancient Grecian architecture. But such
ardour, however commendable in itself, was turned
by his opponents into ridicule, the full brunt of which
was brought to bear against him by Lord Byron him-
self, the most enthusiastic of Philhellenists; vho, in
his English Baj-ds and Scotch Reviewers, dubl)ed
him as "that travelled thane, Athenian Aber-
deen." But something deeper than mere jiolitical
picjue may have embittered the sarcasm of Lord
Byron. The estate of Gicht, which should have de-
scended to his mother, had been sold by her improvi-
dent father to Lord Haddo, and the poetical jieer
may have felt indignant that the carl, however inno-
cently, had supi^lanted him in the family possession.

In 1804 the iCarl of Aberdeen took the degree of
M..'\. at the university, and in 1806, when he had
arrived at the age of twenty-two, he commenced his
imhlic life by being elected a representative ])ccr of
.Scotland. The condition, however, of jniljlic affairs
was such as might well daunt a young as](irant for
])olitical jilace and responsibility. The peace of
.Amiens had been quickly tenninated, and the war
resumed more violently than ever. The victory of
Trafalgar, indeed, had secured our sujiremacy by
sea; but this was more than counterbalanced by the
successes of Na])oleon on land, which already had
made him the arbiter of the fate of luiro]ic. Welling-
ton had not as yet a]ipeared upon the scene; and our
military exi>cditions, unwisely planned, had generally
ended in disaster and defeat. In such a state of
affairs, when the wisdom of the oldest and most ex-
lierienced of our politicians was at fault, the conduct
of the youthful senator was characterized bv modest

EARL OF ABERDEEN.

discretion; and although he steadily supported his
party, his voice was seldom heard in the arena of dis-
cussion and debate. It was not indeed as a political
orator that he was to win his way to influence and
distinction, and this general silence distinguished the
whole of the earl's public career to the end. Hut his
talents were not the less felt; so that after the reverses
of Napoleon in Russia, he was selected for a task of
peculiar difficulty and delicacy: this was to detach
the Emperor of Austria from the interests of Bona-
parte, although his son-in-law, and induce him to
unite with the allied sovereigns for his overthrow.
That the Earl of Aberdeen should have been chosen
fur such a mission — on the success of which the fate
of Europe depended — shows the estimation in which
he was held, although as yet he was scarcely thirty
years old. The result of his negotiations justified
the choice of our statesmen; and his proceedings at
the court of Vienna, as British ambassador, form an
important portion of the history of the period. But
instead of a full detail, we can only give a passing
notice of their effects. Austria was, in the first in-
stance, persuaded to become neutral; she next ven-
tured to mediate between the contending parties;
afterwards, to perform the part of mediator with
effect, she found it necessary to suspend the alliance
subsisting between her and France; and finally, in
1 8 13, she joined the coalition against Napoleon.
The reverses of the French arms in the Peninsula,
the indecisive victories of Bonaparte at Liitzen and
Bautzen, the promise of a large subsidy from the
British government to aid .Vustria in the straggle, and
the prospect of reconstructing her broken dominion
upon the downfal of the conqueror of Europe, were
inducements too alluring to be disregarded; and the
Emperor of Austria became the hostile opponent of
a son-in-law whose day of prosperity was evidently
drawing to a close.

In those subsequent victories by which the armies
of Bonaparte were overthrown, the Earl of Aberdeen,
from his attendance on the Emperor of Austria, saw
a large amount of the horrors of war in their worst
forms — an experience which may either have created
or confirmed that love of peace and non-intervention
by which his administration was afterwards char-
acterized, and for which he was so heavily blamed.
He witnessed the fights of Liitzen and Bautzen;
after the battle of Dresden Morcau died in his
quarters; with Humboldt he rode over the field of
Leipsic, when it was freshly torn by the ploughshare
of military destruction; and on one occasion, near
Chaumont, both emperor and ambassador, with their
whole diplomatic staff, had to ride for their lives to
escape the enemy, and never draw bridle until they
had reached Dijon, about thirteen leagues distant.
But besides a knowledge of the evils of war, with
which such incidents made him personally acquainted,
his situation as ambassador brought him frequently
into cont.act with Trince Metternich and other foreign
statesmen, by whose society his Conservative prin-
ciples are supposed to have' been strengthened, and
his policy as foreign minister of Britain afterwards so
materially iniluenced. .-\fter securing the Emperor
of .\u>tria to the cause of the alliedsovereigns, the
llarl of Aberdeen was commissioned to withdraw
Joachim Murat. King of Naples, from the cause of
his brother-in-law Napoleon, who had trained him to
greatness, and to whom he owed everything. Diplo-
niacy has duties every wliit as stern and unmerciful
as those of war, al;hi)UL;h they are more coollv and
dispassionately performe<i; and the task of Aberdeen,
which was to sow dissension among the kindred of
the falling hero, and detach them from his cause,
was by no- means pleasant, however justified by

political necessity. Here also the carl was success-
ful; and he "of the snow-white plume," the crowned
dragoon who had so often in battle been Bonaparte's
right arm, joined the allies, on the pr<jmi-.c of l)eiiig
confirmed in his Neapolitan throne. These aliena-
tions of his best supports, by which the downfal of
the French emperor was insured more effectually
than by his reverses in the field, were chiefly owing
to the young Scottish statesman who, silently and
with his pen, was directing those movements un<icr
which the greatest of confjuerors succumbed. The
earl remained in attendance upon the Austrian
emperor until the termination of the war, and was
present as British ambassador at Chatillon, where
the congress of the allied sovereigns was assembled.
When so many difficult claims were to be adjusted,
it was necessary that Britain, the j^aymaster of the
war, should be fully representetl; and thither ac-
cordingly Lord Castlereagh, our foreign secretarj-,
and .Sir Charles Stuart (afterwards Marquis of Lon-
donderr\) were sent as colleagues to .Aberdeen and
Lord Cathcart. It was a curious destination, by
which two Irishmen were balanced by two Scots, as
if the fervour of the one nation was to be kept in
check by the proverbial cautiousness of the other.
At the termination of the war in 1814, the I'^arl of
Aberdeen was advanced to a British peerage by the
title of Viscount Gordon.

On the return of the earl to England with the high
political prestige he had won, it might have been ex-
pected that he would devote himself to ]niblic life, and
take an important place in the administration. But
previous to his mission to Vienna, his wife, a daughter
of the first Marquis of Abercorn, whom he had
married in 1805, died; and it is not impossible that
in his acceptance of such an onerous charge, he
sought the solace of a young widowed heart in the
bustle of occupation. Be that as it may, when he
returned home, he again sought domestic happiness
by marrying the widow of \iscount Hamilton, the
sister-in-law of his former wife, and mother of the
second Marquis of Abercorn. Living aloof from the
turmoil of politics and the allurements of ambition.
he now devoted himself to those classical studies for
which he had shown an early predilection, inter-
mixed with exertions for the improvement of his
estates and the comfort of his tei-;antry. I lis
passion among these raral employments was chiefly
the jilanting of trees, so that whole fore.-ts of which
his old age saw the maturity, were the reward of his
early exertions. In this peaceful manner his life was
spent until the year 1S28, Avhen the Tories acquired
the ascendency. In this case Lord Aberdeen was
not to be overlooked, and under the administration
of the Duke of Wellington he became secretan.- of
foreign aftairs. In this important office he w.is
enabled to realize his youthful aspirations in behalf
of (Greece. That country, after a lone:, ruinous, and
doubtful straggle against the overwb.elming ]io\\cr
of Turkey, had taken fresh courage from the inter-
ference of England, f>ance. and Russia in its bel'.alt,
and the naval victory which the united lleets iif the^e
three powers had olitained over the Turco-Kgyj.tian
lleet in the battle of Navarino. In con-equencc ol
this promising change, the (ireeks had renewed the
unequal struggle, and, chiefly throv.L^h t!;e retf.r:i
of "'.Vthenian Aberdeen" to jiolitical r,t;:ce. tb.c.r
efforts were successful; and the erection o! tb.e jriiic;-
pal states of tlrecce into an indepcniler.t Ildletr.c
kingdom was the result. It was the first of a >er;cs
of experiments in a great jiolitical problem, the \\ork-
ing of which was reserved fortlie ninetcer.t!; cw.W.ry.
and that still awaits solution. It may lie cr;];,-.! t!ie
problem of the re-urrection of nation-. .\ i.ation.

KARL OF ABERDEEN.

after a life of eight or ten centuries, has finished its
natural term of existence, anil wlien it expires its
place is occupied by some young successor, who runs
a similar career. But can a defunct nation live over
aj^in ? The trial has been made in our own day, first
with Clreece, and afterwards with Italy, while the
final is>ue is still an uncertainty.

With the exception of this interference in behalf
of Greece. Lord .-\berdeen, as secretary for foreign
atTairs, most scrupulously adhered to his principle of
non-intervention. Thus, when Louis I'liilijipe was
recognizeil by the French as tlieir king, insteail of
stickling lor the rights of the elder branch of tiie
Bourbons, he at once assented to the change, lie
rcfuscl to involve tliis country in a war for the dis-
j)l.acenient of l)v)m .Miguel from the u>urped throne
of Portugal ; anil when the quadruple alliance was
fonned by Lord I'almerston b.-tween England,
France. .Spain, and Portugal, Lord .\berdeen was
opposed to the measure. He al>o was anxious to
maintain our peaceful relationships with Austria
and Rus-i.a, when the popular feeling of Britain was
inclined for war. But these pacific tendencies, uniler
which our island became prosju'rous, were desjiised
as the etTects of a timid or selfish policy; and his
lordship was alternately reproached or ridiculed as
the friend of foreign despots, and the secret enemy
of British liberty. \'ery ditTerent was the view
entertained in foreign courts, wliere he was regarded
as a wise, humane, disinterested statesman. The
same peaceful character regidated his conduct in
reference Ui our disputes witii America, and it was
under ius direction that Lord .\sii!:)urton negotiated
those diificuit <)uestions about b jundaries by whicli
a threatened war between Britain and liie United
States was ha]>pily averted.

The first tenure of office held by Lord Aberdeen
as fjreign secretar)- was b. ought to a close in 1S30,
by the accession of WUiiam IV., and the passing of
the ref irm bll. But whetlier in or out of oflice,
his pilitical cliaracter was so well established, that
his opinions had always weight and intUience witli
the rulnig i)owers. In 1X34, during .Sir Robert
Beel's brief administration, he held office as colonial
r^ccretary, and again under tiiat statesman in 1841,
as fire:gii secretary; and he rendered material aid
to Sir I\oi>jrt in carrying the repeal of the corn-
laws. a:ii the ref)rins connected witli our com-
merce. In tiiis matter of tile corn-laws, he was
not obli^'ed, iiketiie premier and many of our states-
men, to unreail iiis own declarations and falsify his
former promises, as he had long seen tiie justice as
well as ilie necessity of a repeal. The same consist-
ency regulat.'d his con<luct in voting for liie re]ieal of
the te>t and cori)oration acts, feeling as a I'resby-
terian ;li.H the eucliarist was prof.uied -.viieii use<l as
a i|uali!i>ation fir pu!)lic oliice.

.\s I.Mi.j .\l>crdeeii was one of tlie few .Scottish
not)lemeii who adhered to the national church of his
own coun'ry, the events that led to tile disrui)tion in
1S43 could not fail to secure his anxious attention.
Tlie two ]..iities into wliicli the Ciiurcii of Scotlan<l
had b_-e:i i'Hig divided, had at lengtii come to lioMile
is-,ue; and a conflict was inevitalile, in wliich one
or the otiier [larty inu^t go to t!ie wall. liis en-
deavour^ t > reconcile tliem, and prevent such a con-
sequerice, were l>otli sincere and earnest. I'ut tlic
questiMii in debate among the contending clergvinen
w.is so li'tle understi..i'l l)y the laity, and the ])olitics
of the cliiirch are so dilTereiil from those of the state,
tliat theli'-aling measures of mere dipiomatisi^, wliicli
migiit jirevent two nations from going to war, will
sometime- only aggravate a theological controversy.
Each party is persuaded that its cause is that of eter-

nal truth— that not a single pin of the sacred taber-
nacle can be yielded u]3 without ruining the whole
fabric — and that whosoever suggests such concession,
can only be a Cjallio, who cares for none of these
things. Such in the present case was the fate of
Lord Aberdeen, and his statesmanlike proposals
for their mutual reconciliation: his healing measure
for that pui]X)se was supposed only to have hastened
on the disruption which it sought to avert. The
church was rent asunder, and while each party
claimed to be the only true Church of Scotland, his
])lan, called Lord Aberdeen's Act, which had been
at once rejected by the Free Church, has been found
by the other an impracticable device, and a blunder
in ecclesiastical jiolity. It will be well when states-
men cease to legislate in religious doctrines which
they cannot understand, and in a spiritual govern-
ment with which they should not meddle.

On the retirement of .Sir Robert Peel after the
corn-law bill had been carried, the I'^arl of Aber-
deen followed his example, and on the melancholy
and sudden death of the former, the earl was recog-
nized as the heal of the party called the Peelites.
Although small in numbers, and suffering under the
odium occasioned by the abolition of the protection
duties, they were still powerful from their position
and political talents. This was acknowledged when
both Whigs and Tories had failed to carry on the
government, so that on the downfal of the Derby-
Disraeli ministry in 1852, the earl was called upon to
form a new administration. lie comjdied, and suc-
ceeded by forming a coalition not of one, but of all
parties, so that tlie new cabinet was composed of
members of every shade of political opinion from the
ultra-Tory to the extreme Radical. .Such a stretch
of liberality, while it was demanded by the necessity
of the occasion, would have found few statesmen
capable of imitating.

The first great trial of the new government with
Lord .\bci'deen at its head, was the Russian war.
The pacihc iirinciples by which his political life had
been governed had now become with him a second
nature, while the benefits of the long peace which
had generally jirevailed in Europe during forty vears
seemed to warrant their iiro])riety. Here his lordship
was ]ilaccd in a manifest dilemma. A bold and de-
cisive course might cither arrest the outlu'eak, or bring
it only tile sooner into action. Dismayed by the un-
certainty of such an experiment. Lord .Aberdeen tem-
porized, first in the ho])e that war might be averted,
and afterwards, that although declared it would not
be carried out. In this vacillation he was seconded
by some of the ablest members of the cabinet, so that
when the Crimean war broke out the country was
only half ])rc[)ared. On the events of this glorious
1)111 unfortunate war we shall not here dwell: it is
enough to state, that the ju-eparations to meet it
were so defective, and tlie mode of carrying it on so
unsatisfactory, tliat the ]-iublic discontent compelled
the cabinet to resign. His lonlshi]) quitted office
on the30tli of January, 1S55, and retired into private
life; and while he carried with him the esteem of all
jiaities, who acknowledged him to have been a wise
and u|)right statesman, notwithstanding the defects
of his administration, he was honoured by the
queen with the order of the (Jaiter in acknowdcdg-
ineiit of his ])ulilic services.

While his lordsliip's ])olitical career had thus on
the whole been illustrious, and so beneficial to his
country, it was iii])riv.Tte life that his amiablequalities
weie best felt and ajipreciated. He was enthusi-
astically beloved by his tenants, to whom he was
ever an indulg<-iit creditor; none of them were dis-
trained fir rent or ejected for its non-payment; and

JOHN ABERNETHY.

while all of them were comfortable, not a few
of them became rich under such a kind considerate
landlord. He also showed, even when worn out
with years and sickness, that however attached to
peace with foreign powers, and non-intervention
in their <}uarrels, he was ready to prefer war to
peace when the honour or safety of the country was at
stake. This he showed in the volunteer movement,
when apprehensions of a foreign invasion called
forth such an armed demonstration. The earl was
one of its strongest supporters, and his tenantry
raised the second rifle corps in Aberdeenshire, which
had his son, the Hon. Arthur Hamilton Gordon,
for its captain. One of his last public acts was to
give a proof of his heartiness in this patriotic move-
ment. On the 2d of October, i860, the earl invited
the officers of the Methlic and Turves Volunteer
rifles (his own tenants) to Haddo House, and pre-
sented to each of them a handsome and valuable
sword, bearing an inscription and the name of the
donor — and this, too, when he was so weak that he
was obliged to sit on a couch, and had hardly
strength to lift the weapons. His lordship died on
the 14th December, i860, at Arg)ll House, London,
aged seventy-si.x.

ABERNETHY, John, an eminent surgeon and
writer on physiolog)'. The birth and parentage of
this gentleman were so obscure, that it is impossible
to say with certainty v.hether he was a native of
Ireland or of .Scotland. It is even affirmed that he
was himself ignorant of the country of his birth.
Upon the supposition that he was born in Scotland,
his name is introduced in the present work. The
date of his birth is given loosely as 1763-64. His
parents having brought him in his infancy to London,
he commenced his education at a day-school in Loth-
bury, where he acquired the elements of classical
literature. Having afterwards been bound appren-
tice to Mr. Charles Blick, surgeon to St. Bartholo-
mew's Hospital, he had the advantage of attending
that noble institution, where he eagerly seized every
opportunity of making himself practically acquainted
with his profession. He also had the advantage of
attending the lectures of Mr. John Hunter, at the
time when that gentleman was commencing the de-
velopment of those great discoveries wliich have made
his name so famous. The curiosity which those dis-
coveries excited in the public at large, was felt in an
uncommon degree by Mr. Abernethy, whose assiduity
and ardour as a pupil attracted the notice of tlie
lecturer, and rendered the latter his friend for life.

While as yet a very young practitioner, his repu-
tation procured for ^Ir. Abernethy the situation of
assistant-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's; and he soon
after commenced a course of lectures in the hospital,
which, tliough not very successful at first, became in
Lime the nio>t frequented of any in London, so as to
lay the foundation of a medical school of the highest
reputation in connection with this institution. On
the death of Sir Charles Blick, his former master,
Mr. Abernethy, now considered as the best teacher
of anatomy, pliysiology, and surgery in the metro-
polis, wa- elected surgeon to the hospital.

The fir>l publications of Mr. Abernethy were a few
physiological e-says, and one on lumbar abscess,
which, with some additions, formed his first volume,
published 1793-97, in Svo, under the title of .SV^;-.
gical and PhysioU\-ical EiSiiys. These were char-
acteri;rcd by the same strong sense, and plain and
forcilile illu>tration. which marked everything that
flowed from his tongue and pen till the end of his
life. In 1S04 ajipeared another volume, entitled
Siir^ii-a! Ol'sm-jtwis, containing' a Classijicaticn of

Tumours, with Cases to illustrate the History of each
Species; an Account of Diseases, ikic. ; and, in 1 806,
Suri^ical Obsenalions, Part Second, containing an
Account of Disorders of the Health in general, and
of the Digestive Organs in particular, -u'hieh accom-
pany Local Diseases, and obstruct their Cure. The
fame of these treatises soon spread, not only through-
out England, but over the continent of Europe; and
the French surgeons, especially, did homage to the
masterly spirit they evinced. Bold and successful
operations, practical and lucid descriptions, original
and comprehensive views, all combined to enhance
the great reputation of the author, and to elevate the
character of the national school of which he was so
bright an ornament.

In 1 8 14 Mr. Abernethy received what might be
considered as the highest honour which his profession
had to bestow, in being appointed anatomical lecturer
to the Royal College of .Surgeons. An anecdote
illustrative of his sound integrity is told in reference
to this era of his life. A fellow of the college having
remarked to him, that now they should have some-
thing new, Mr. Abernethy seriously asked him what
he meant. " Wiiy," said the other, " of course you
will brush up the lectures which you have been so
long delivering at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and
let us have them in an improved form." " Do you
take me for a fool or a knave?" rejoined Mr. Aber-
nethy. "I have always given the students at tlie
hospital that to which they are entitled — the best
produce of my mind. If I could have made my lec-
tures to them better, I would instantly have made
them so. I will give the College of .Surgeons pre-
cisely the same lectures, down to the smallest details."
In the year of this honourable appointment, he pub-
lished An Inquiry into the Probability and Ra-
tionality of Mr. Hunter s Iheory of Life; being the
subject of the two first lectures delivered before the
Royal College of .Surgeons of London. The aim
of these lectures was to elucidate the doctrine pre-
viously laid down by Mr. Hunter, that "life, in
general, is some principle of activity added by the
will of Omnipotence to organized structure, an
immaterial soul being superadded, in man, to the
structure and vitality which he possesses in common
with other animals." Of this work, it is generally
allowed that the intentions are better than the philo-
sophy.

Previously to this period, Mr. Abernethy had pub-
lished other treatises besides those already named.
One of the most remarkable was Surgical Obser-
vations on the Constitutional Origin and 'J'realvicnt
of Local Diseases, and on Aneurism, Svo, 1^09.
His memorable cases of tying the iliac artery for
aneurism are detailed in this volume; ca.-es which
may almost be said to form an era in adventurous
surgical experiment. Mr. Abernethy also wrote
works on Diseases jrsenilling .Syf/iilis, and on
Diseases of the L'rethra ; On Injuries of ti:e Hiii-i
and Miscellaneous Subjects: and another volume ot
Physiological Essays. He was likewise the ar/.hor
of the anatomical and physiological articles in Kee-
Cyclopedia, previous to the article Caiui. Ann'ng
his various accom]:)lishments must i)e ranked a
considerable acquaintance with chenv.-try; .ir.'l
one of his numerous honours is the h.iv.iig, in c";v.-
]>anywith Mr. Howard, discovered. Uihi.inaiing r.'.er-
cury.

Besides his business as a lecturer. Mr. A:>err.c;i;y
cnjoved avast and lucrative prac;:ce as a si;r.,-ei>r..
His manner in both capacities w.is !n.irke>! :■; ni.-r.y
eccentricitie<. Init particularly in the latter. He i."i;'d
not endure the tedious and confused :-iarra:.\c~ w hi>.:i
j-aticiUi arc apt to lay before a cjr.sult.r.g surgcjn,

JOUX ABERNETIIY ALEXANDER ADAM.

and, in checking these, wr.s not apt to regard much
the rules of goo«.i-breeding. Considerable risks were
thus encountered for the sake of his advice; but this
wxs generally so excellent, that those who required
it were seldom afraid to hai^ard the slight offence to
their feelings with which it was liable to be accom-
}ianie<l. >lany anecdotes of Mr. Al>emethy's ren-
counters with liis jxitients are preserved in the pro-
fession. The two following are given in Sir James
Eyre's recent work, 'I'hf Stomach aitd its Dijificul-
tus: — *' .\ ven.- talkative lady, who had wearied the
temper of .Mr. .VlK-rncthy, which was at all times im-
patient of gabble, was told by him the first moment
that he could get a chance of speaking, to Ix; good
enough to put out her tongue. ' Now, pray, madam.'
said he, playfully, ' kci/>\\. out.' The hint was taken.
He rarely met with his match, but on one occasion
he fairly owned that he had. He was sent for to an
innkec}^>or, who had had a quarrel with his wife, and
who had score<l his face with her nails, so that the
]K)or man was bleeiling antl much di>figurcd. Mr.
.•VlH-rnethy considered this an o|:)portunity not to be
lo>t for admonishing the offender, and said, ' -Nfadam,
are you not ashamed of yourself to treat your husband
thu>; the hu>l)and, who is the he.id of all, your head,
madam, in fact?' 'Well, doctor,' fiercely retorted
the virago, 'and may I not scratch my own head?'
L'jHin thi> her friendly adviser, after giving directions
f )r the i)enefit of the patient, turned upon his heel,
and Confessed himself beaten for once." Hut abrupt-
ness and rudeness were not his only eccentricities.
He carried practical benevolence to a j^itch as far
fr.im the common line as any of his other ]KCuliarities.
Where poverty and disease jirevented patients from
waiting u])on him in his own house, he was frequently
known, not only to visit them constantly, and at
inconvenient distances, without fee or reward, but
generously to supply them from his own purse with
wh.it their wants required. I'erhaps the most strik-
ing, <jut of the numerous anecdotes which have been
relate<l of him, in illustration of his eccentricities, is
one "lescriptivc of his courtship, or rather of his no-
tourtship. " While attending a lady for several
weeks, he observed those admira!)Ie qualifications in
ber daughter which he truly esteemed to be calcu-
lated to make the marri.-ige state happy. .Accordingly,
on a .Saturday, when taking leave of his patient, he
.iddrc-.sc! her to the following purport: — ' \'ou are
now so well that I need not see you after Monday
next, vslieii I shall come and pay you my farewell
visit, iJ'.it, in the meantime, I wisji yr)u and your
daughter seriou>lyto consider the ]iropos.i] I am now
ai> >ul to nnke. It is abrupt and unceremonious, I
am aware; but the excessive occiipntion of niv time
by my ]>r.)fe>si..iial duties affords me no lei-'ure to
a'.comjvlidi what I desire by the more ordinary course
of atteniKin and soln italiou. My annua! receipts

amount to £ , an<l I can settle £ - on mv

wife; my chiiader is generally known to tlie )niblic,
so that voii may readily ascertain \\ liat it is. 1 jiave
seen in your da-.ighter a tender and alfectioiiat.M iiild,
an as^idti His and careful nurse, and a gentle and
ladylike member of a family; siu h a persi.n nuist lie
all that a lrid)and cild (ovet. an-l 1 offr mv hand
and f)nune f-.r her aci.e])ta!Ki-. On .Monday! wiien
I call. I ^hali ex]>e(t your d'-teriniiialion; (or I really
have not time for the r-nitine of courtship.' In this
humour the lady was wooed and wriii, and tlj'- union
proved f )rtiinate in every req^ect. .A haj^jner couple
never existed."

-After a life of great activity, and whii h jproved of
niu: h imrne'Iiate and remote -crvice to mankind, the
s;;b;ect of this memoir expired, at EnficM, <iii the
20th of .\pr 1, iSji.

ADAM, Alexander, an eminent grammarian
and writer on Roman antiquities, was born at Coats
of Ikirgie, in the jxarish of Rafford and county of
.Moray, about the month of June, 1741. His father,
John Adam, rented one of those small farms which
were formerly so common in the north of Scotland.
In his earlier years, like many children of his own
class, and even of a class higher removed above
]ioverty, he occasionally tended his father's cattle.
Heing destined by his parents, poor as they were,
for a learned profession, he was kept at the parish
school till he was thought fit to come forward as a
bui-sar at the university of Aberdeen. He made
this attempt, but failed, and was requested by the
judges to go back and study for another year at
school. This incident only stimulated him to fresh
exertions. He was prevented, however, from renew-
ing his attempt at Aberdeen, by the representations
of the Rev. Mr. Watson, a minister at Edinburgh,
and a relation of his mother, who induced him to try
his fortune in the metropolis. He removed thither
early in the year 1758; Ijut, it appears, without any
assured means of supporting himself during the pro-
gress of his studies. For a considerable time, while
attending the classes at the college, the only means
of subsistence he enjoyed consisted of the small
sum of one guinea per quarter, which he derived
from Mr. Alan Macconochie (afterwards Lord Mea-
dowdmnk), for assisting him in the capacity of a tutor.
The details of his system of life at this period, as
given by his biographer Mr. Henderson, are pain-
fully interesting. " He lodged in a small room at
Restalrig, in the north-eastern suburbs; and for this
accommodation he paid fourpence a-week. All his
meals, except dinner, uniformly consisted of oatmeal
made into porridge, together with small beer, of
which he only allowed himself half a bottle at a time.
When he wished to dine, he purchased a penny loaf
at the nearest baker's shop; and, if the day was fair,
he would des])atch his meal in a walk to the ]Meadows
or Hope Park, which is adjoining to the southern
])art of the city; but if the weather was foul, he had
recourse to some long and lonely stair, which he
would climb, eating his dinner at every step. By
this means all expense for cookery was avoided, and
he wasted neither coal nor candles; for, when he was
chill, he used to run till his blood began to glow,
and his evening studies were always prosecuted under
the roof of some one or other of his companions."
There are many instances, we believe, among .Scottish
students, of tlie most rigid self-denial, crowned at
length by s]dendid success; but there is certainly no
case known in which the self-denial was so chastened,
and the triumph so grand, as that of Dr. Adam. In
1 76 1, when he was exactly twenty, he stood a trial
for the situation of head teacher in George Watson's
Hospital, Edinburgh, and was successful. In this
place he is said to have continued about three years;
during which he was anxiously engaged in cultivat-
ing an intimacy with the classics — reading, with
great care, and in a critical manner, the works of
I Iciodotiis, Tiuicydides, Xenophon, Cicero, and
l.i\y. His views were now directed towards the
ciiureli. and he was on the eve of being licensed as
a )ireacher of the gospel, when suddenly a prospect
opened before him of becoming assistant, with the
hope of being eventually the successor, of Mr.
Mniheson, rector of the high-scluiol. This ajipoint-
nieiit he obtained, and in I 771 the increased infirmi-
tus of Mr. Mathieson threw the whole of this charge
into the hands of Mr. .Adam.

'1 he time when he assumed this respectable office
«as very fortunate. I'.very de]iartment of knowledge
in Sco'.land wa^ at this period adorned by higher

f0 . r ■ ■,

ALEXANDER ADAM

names than had ever before graced it; and hence the
office of master in the principal elementary school of
the country presented to a man of superior qualifica-
tions a fair opportunity of distinguishing himself.
This opjiortunity was not lost upon Mr. Adam. He
devoted himself with singular assiduity to his duties;
and under his auspices the school gradually increased
in numbers and reputation. Soon after his appoint-
ment he began to compose a series of works to facili-
tate tile stuiiy of the I^tin language. 1 1 is Kmiimcnts
of Latin and English Grammar were published in
1772, and though composed in a style which aj)-
peared to the generality of teachers as a dreadful
schism and heresy, met witli the approbation of a
discerning few, whose praise was sufficient to over-
balance the censure of the multitude. 1 1 is offi;nce
consisted in the novel attempt to teach the gram-
matical rules of Latin in English prose, instead of
Latin prose or verse, which latter had been the time-
honoured fashion of the schools both of England and
Scotland since the days of the Reformation. The
daring innovator was assailed with a storm of abuse
by numerous individuals, more especially by those of
his own profession.

Among those who took an active part in condemn-
ing his work, Dr. Gilbert Stuart was very con-
spicuous. This extraordinary lilterateiir was a relation
of Ruddiman; and, as an additional incentive to his
hostility, conceived that Adam had gained the rector-
ship of the high-school more by interest than by
merit. He accordingly filled the periodical works of
the day with ridicule and abuse directed against the
unfortunate grammar. Amongst other pasquinades
appeared an account, in Latin, of a Roman funeral,
in which that work was personified as the dead body,
while the chief mourner was meant to represent Mr.
Adam sorrowing for the untimely fate of his best-
beloved child. The other persons officiating are
introduced under the technical terms in use among
the ancient Romans; and, to heighten the ridicule,
and give it aid from local circumstances, the ingenious
satirist placed in front of the mourners a poor
lunatic of the name of Duff, well known in Edinburgh
at the time for his punctual attendance at the head
of all funeral processions. While his work was still
the subject of censure, the ingenious author was
partly compensated for all his sufferings by a degree
of LL. D., which was conferred upon him by the
College of Edinburgh in 1780. Some years after
the grammar began gradually to make its way in
schools, and finally he had the satisfaction of seeing
it adopted in his own seminary. Among the great
names which at an early period had sanctioned it
with their a]iprobation are those of Lord Kames,
Bishop Lowth, and Dr. Vincent, master of St. Paul's
School.

Tile next work of Dr. Adam is entitled ,-/ Siinnnarv
of GL\r:;raphy and History but the date of the first
edition is not mentioned by his biographer. In 1791
lie pul)lislied ills excellent compendium of Roman
Ant'i.jnitics, and in iSoo iiis Classical flio::;raphy;
for tlie copyright of the former he received ^600,
and for that of the latter ;i{^300. Dr. Adam's last
and perhaps his most ial^orious work was his l.atni
Dictionary, put)lisiied in 1 805. Towartis tlie lie-
ginning his illustrations are brief, but, as he proceeds,
tiiey gradually liccome more copious. It was his
intention to add an English-and- Latin ]"iart, and to
enlarge the other to a con-^idcralile extent. In this
flivourite plan he liad made some progress at the
time of his death.

On the I3tli of I>occmI)er, iSoo. Dr. ,\dam was
seized in the iiigli-scliool with an alarming indi--]io-
sition, -^x-hicli iiad all tiic appearance of apoplexy.

ROBERT ADAM.

13

Having been conducted home, he was put to betl,
and enjoyed a sound sleep, which appeared to have
arrested the progress of the disease, fur he was after-
wards able to walk about his room. Tlie apoplectic
symptoms, however, returned in a few day^, and he
fell into a state of stupor. His last words marked
the gradual darkening of tiie ray of life and intellect
beneath this mortal disorder. He said, "It grows
dark, boys — you may go — " his mind evidentlv
wandering at tiiat moment to the scene where he had
spent the i^etter part of his life. This twilight soon
settled down into the night of death: he expired
early in the morning of the 1 8th I)ecenii)er, 1S09.
The death of the amiable and excellent Dr. Adam
operated among his numerous friends and admirers
like a shock of electricity. Men of all ages and de-
nominations were loud in lamenting an event which
had bereaved them of a common Ijcnefactor. Tlie
effect of the general feeling was a resolution to
honour him with what was at that time a verv* rare
circumstance in Scotland — a public funeral.

The life of Dr. Adam proves, had any proof been
wanting, the possibility of rising to distinction in tins
country from any grade of life, and through what-
soever intervening difficulties. In 1758 and 1759 he
was a student living at the inconceivably huml)le rate
of four guineas a year; in ten years thereafter he had
qualified himself for, and attained, a situation which,
in Scotland, is an object of ambition to men of con-
siderable literary rank. The principal features of
his character were, unshaken independence and in-
tegrity, ardour in the cause of public liberty, the
utmost purity of manners and singleness of heart,
and a most indefatigable power of application to the
severest studies. "His external ap]iearance was that
of a scholar who dressed neatly for his own sake, but
who had never incommoded himself with fashion in
the cut of his coat or in the regidation of his gait.
Upon the street he often appeared in a studious atti-
tude, and in winter always walked with his hands
crossed, and thnist into his sleeves. His features
were regular and manly, and he was above the
middle size. In his well-fomied proportions and in
his firm regidar pace there appeared the marks of
habitual temperance. He must have been geneially
attractive in his early days; and, in his old age, his
manners and conversation enhanced the value and
interest of even,' qualification. When he addressed
his scholars, when he commended excellence, or
when he was seated at his own fireside with a friend
on whom he could rely, it was delightful to be near
him; and no man could leave his company without
declaring that he loved Dr. Adam."

ADA^I, RoRKRT, an eminent architect, was
born at Edinburgh in the year 172S. His father,
William Adam, of .Maryburgh, in the county ot
Fife, also distinguished himself as an arch:toi.t:
Ho]ietoun House and the Royal Infirmary at IJliii-
burgli are specimens of his abilities. Robert. tl;e
secontl son, inherited his father's ta>te, and livi.;! i:i
a time more favourable to its develo]mient. He w:"--
educated in the university of E(lintn;r:,di. vliore \.c
enjoyed the kind attentions of Robert>o;i, .'-^niitli. :.vA
Ferguson, all of wliom were his father's Irin-.'is. A->
he advanced in life he was on friendly and ir/.inir.tL-
terms with Archibald. Duke o\ Argvic, Sir (/I;.-;::..-
Town^hcnil. and the Earl of Mnnsiicld. Al'..!;t tli.'
vear 1714. with a view to iniiMove hi^ kni i\\ Ic'l^;'- "t
architecture, ho tnivollcd on the C'ntincr.!. r.r.'l re-
sided three years in Italy, nliere lie ~r.r\cye'l tb.c
niagniliccp.t specimens of l\oni."in .nrJiito. 'urc. the
buil<iin_L;-; of the ancients, in liis oj ;!.;>':■.. le.rg th'.-
proper ~ch.,>' I of the r.rcl'.;:ccir.'..d .-tU'ler.:. Put

14

riOBERT ADAM

while lie beheld with much pleasure the remains of
the public buiUlinj^s of the Romans, he regretted to
perceive that hardly a vestige of their private houses
or villas was anywhere to be found. The interest
which he felt in this particular branch of Roman re-
mains, and Iiis anxiety to behold a good specimen of
the private buildings of this wonderful peojile, induced
liim to undertake a voyage to Sjialatro, in Dalniatia,
to visit and examine the palace of Dioclesian, where,
after his resignation of the cm]>ire, in 305, that
emperor spent the last nine years of his life. He
sailetl from \enice in 1754, accompanied by two ex-
perienced draughtsmen and M. Clcrisseau, a French
antiiiuary and arti^t. On their arrival at .Spalatro
they found that the palace had not sutTerctl less from
dilapidations by the inhabitants, to j^rocure materials
for building, than from the injuries of time; and that,
in many i)laces, tlie ver)- ft)undations of the ancient
structures were covered with modern houses. ^Vhen
they began their labiturs the vigilant jealousy of the
goveniinent was alarmed, and they were soon inter-
rupted; foi, sus|H;cting their object was to view and
make plans of tlie fortitications, the governor issued
a peremptory order, commaniling them to desist.
It was only through the inlluence and mediation of
(Jeneral (Ir.eme, the commander-in-chief of the
\'cnetian f>rces (probably a Scotsman), that they
were at length ])erniitte.l to resume their labours; and
in five weeks they tnii>hccl plans and views of the
remaining fragments, from which they afterwards
executed perfect designs of the whole building. Mr.
Adam soon after returned to England, and speedily
r-)se to profcs>ional eminence. In 1762 he was ap-
]M)inted architect to their majesties, and in the year
f)llowing h_' i)ublished, in one ^•^)Iume large folio,
A'li.iis of tlw /\i'tu'c' of the Iii}tp:ror Diodesian at
S^ii'.jtro, 11: Dalm.itia. This ^plendid work con-
tain^ seventy. one ]ilates, besides letter-press descrip-
t!<);i>. lie had at this time been elected a member
of tile Royal and .\ntiquarian .Societies, and in 1768
he w.as elected to represent Kinross-shire in parlia-
ment, wiiich was pr<jl)a!)ly owing to the local inllu-
ence of !»!> family. A seat in the Ilou->e of Commons
being incompatible with emjiloymeiit under the
crown, he now resigned liis oftice as architect to their
maje^tie^; hut continued t(j ]')ro>ccute his professional
career witli increasing reputation, being much em-
ployed by the Kngli^li nobility and gentry in con-
structing new and embellishing ancient mansions.
In the year 177.^ in conjunction with his brother,
James .Adam, wlio abo rose to considerable reputa-
t.on as an .ircllitect, lie commenced 'J'h,- Works in
Ar,'i:t,rlii)\- of R. r.nl J. .U/.iin, which before
1776 hid r.-acliel a fouiih luniilicr. and was a Nvork
of equal .spleiiiour with the one above referred to.
The f '-.ir numbers contain, among (jtlier ])roductions,
Sion House, Caen \Vo.,d. I.utoii Park llouse, the
< iateway of !h" .\diniralty. and the- (ieiieral Register
House at Ivimburgli; all of which have been admired
f)r elegant <lesigii and curecl taste, though the
J. resent .age. in its rage f.r a s.-vere ^iin]ilicity. might
desire the absence* of cc-rtain niimite oninmeiits with
which the .Adams were accustomed to fill ii|) vacant
si)aecs. Kefore this period the two brotln-rs had
reared in I.onrlon that s],leii'li'l iiiMnumeiit of tiieir
ta-te -the .\deiphi, which, however, was too exten-
sive a "-peculation to be I'rofilable. Tliev wrre
obliged ill 1774 to iibtain an act of parliaiiirnt to djs-
])Ose of th-- houses by way of lottery. The c liief
.Scottish 'Icsigris of .\dam, be-i lesth-' K^'gister ( )\\\> l\
were the new ad'htions to the L'iiiv--rsiiv n{ Ivjin-
burgh and the Infirmary of (ilasg.iw. "We have
r.lsr) seen and admired,'" says a biograjih-r. "elegant
designs executed by Mr. Adam, which were intended

PATRICK ADAMSON.

for the South Bridge and South Bridge Street of
lulinburgh; and which, if they had been adopted,
would have added much to the decoration of that
part of the town. But they were considered un-
suitable to the taste or economy of the times, and
were therefore rejected. Strange incongruities," con-
tinues the same writer, "appear in some buildings
which have been erected from designs by Mr. Adam.
Rut of these it must be observed, that they have been
altered or mutilated in execution, according to the
convenience or taste of the owner; and it is well
known that a slight deviation changes the character
and mars the effect of the general design. A lady of
rank was furnished by Mr. Adam with the design of
a house; but on examining the building after it was
erected, he was astonished to find it out of all pro-
portion. On inquiring the cause he was informed
that the pediment he had designed was too small to
ailmit a piece of new sculpture which represented the
arms of the family, and, by the date wdiich it bore,
incontestably proved its antiquity. It was therefore
at)solutely necessary to enlarge the dimensions of the
jiediment to receive this ancient badge of family
honour, and sacrifice the beauty and proportion of the
whole building. We have seen a large public build-
ing wdiich was also designed by Mr. Adam; but when
it was erected the length was curtailed of the space
of two windows, while the other parts remained ac-
cording to the original plan. It now appears a heavy
unsightly pile, instead of exhibiting that elegance of
proportion and correctness of style which the faithful
execution of Mr. Adam's design would have probably
given it. To the last period of his life Mr. Adam
displayed the same vigour of genius and refinement
of taste; for in the sjiace of one year immediatelv
preceding his death he designed eight great public
works, besides twenty-five private buildings, so
various in style, and beautiful in coinposition, that
they have been allowed by the best judges to be
sufficient of themselves to establish his fame as an
unrivalled artist." Mr. Adam died on the 3d of
March, 1792, by the bursting of a blood-\essel, in
the sixty-fourth year of his age, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey. It remains only to be said
that, while his works commanded the admiration of
the public, his natural suavity of maimers, joined to
his excellent moral character, had made a deep ini-
]iression upon the circle of his own private friends.
His brother James, who has been referred to as
associated with him in many of his works, died
October 20, 1794.

ADAMSON, Hf.NRY, a poet of the seventeenth
century, and ]irobably a relative of the subject of the
following article, was the son of James Adamson,
who was dean of guild in I'erth, anno 1600, when
the (](Avrie conspiracy took ])lace in that city. The
poet was educated for the jnilpit, and ajipcars to
have made considerable ])rogress in classical studies,
as he wrote Latin poetry above mediocrity. He en-
joyed the friendship and esteem of a large circle of
the eminent men of that age, jiarticnlarly Drummond
of Hawthorndcn, who induced him, in 163S, to
]niblish a ]K)ein entitled Mirtlifiil Ahisiut^s for the
Ihnth of Mr. Call; being in fact a versified history of
his native town, hill of quaint allegorical allusions
siiitahle to the taste of that age. A new editi(m of
this curious pdciii, which had become exceedingly
rare, was luiblished in 1 774, with illustrative notes
l>y Mr. Jaincs (/ant. The ingenious author died in
l')39, the year alter the jiublication of his poem.

_ ADAMSON, Patiuck, Archbishop of St.
.■\ndrc\V3. '1 his prelate, whose name occupies so

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

15

remarkable a place in the history of the Scottish
reformation, was born of humble parents, in the
town of Perth, in or nigh the year 1543. He
studied at the university of St. Andrews, and, after
having gon.- through the usual course, he graduated
as Master of Arts. His name at this period was
Patrick Consteane, or Constance, or Constantine,
for in all these forms it is written indifferently; but
how it afterwards passed into Adamson we have
no means of ascertaining. At the close of his
career at college, he opened a school in Fife, and
soon obtained the notice and patronage of James
M'Gill of Rankeillor, one of the judges of the
Court of Session, who possessed considerable
political influence. lie had not long been minis-
ter of Ceres, to which he had been appointed, when
we find him impatient to quit his charge; and accord-
ingly, in 1564, he applied to the General Assembly
for leave "to pass to other countries for a time, to
acquire increase of knowledge," but was inhibited to
leave his charge without the Assembly's license.
That license, however, he seems at length to have
obtained, and probably also before the meeting of the
Assembly in the following year, when they published
such stringent decisions against those ministers who
abandon their spiritual charges. Patrick Con-
stance, or, as we shall henceforth call him, Adam-
son, now appointed tutor of the son of M'Gill of
Rankeillor, passed over with his young charge,
who was destined for the study of the civil law, to
Paris, at that time the chief school of the dis-
tinguished jurisconsults of Europe.

Adamson had not been long in Paris when such
adventures befell him as might well make him sigh
f )r the lowly obscurity of Ceres. In the course of
events that had occurred in Scotland during his
absence, were the marriage of Queen Mary and
Henry Darnljy, and the birth of their infant, after-
wards James VI.; and -Vdamson, who at this time
was more of a courtier than a politician, and more
of a poet than eitiier, immediately composed a
triumphant "carmen" on the event, entitled, Scrcn-
issimi et nobilissimi ScotLc, Aiigliir, Franciic, d
liibcrniiC Priiicipis, Hctirici Stiiarti Illtistrissimi
IIiTois, ac Maria: Kcs^iiicr amplissiviiZ Fdii, Gcncth-
liacum. The very title was a startling one, both
to France and England, the great political questions
of which countries it at once prejudged, by giving
them the Scottish queen for their lawful, indisput-
able sovereign. Had this poem, which was pub-
lished a few days after the event, been produced
in England, its author would scarcely have escaped
the Star Chamber; but as it was, he was within
the reach of Catherine de Medicis, to the full as
jealous of her authority as Elizabeth herself
Adamson was therefore rewarded for his Latin
poetry by a six months' imprisonment, which jier-
liaps would have been succeeded by a worse in-
fliction, h.i<l it not been for the mediation of Mary
herself, backed by that of some of her chief nobles.
It did not at that time suit the policy of France to
break with Scotland, and the poet was set at
liberty. Having thus had a sufficient sojourn in
Paris, .Vdam-on repaired with his pupil to Bourges,
where both entered themselves as students of law.
Even here, however, he was not long allowed to
remain in safety. Tiie massacre of St. ]5arthoIomew
— that foul national blot of France, and anomalv
of modern hi>tory -bur-^t out with the sufldenness
of a ti.irnado, an I, ani;d>t the ruin that followed,
no Protestant could be a>>ured of his life for a
single hour. .Vdamson had his full share of the
danger, and narrowly escajied by finding shelter
in a lowly hostelry, the mister of which was after-

wards flung from the top of his own house, and
killed on the pavement below, for having given
shelter to heretics. While immured in this dreary
confinement for seven months, and which he fitly
termed his sepulchre, Adamson consoled himself
with Latin poetry upon themes suited to his con-
dition; one attempt of this nature being the tragedy
of Herod, and the other a version of the book of
Job. As soon as he was able to emerge, one of
the first uses which he made of his libL-rty was to
return home and resume those ministerial labours
which he had good cause to regret he ever had
abandoned.

This return was at a critical period; for the arch-
bishopric of St. Andrews was at that time vacant,
and, notwithstanding the Presbyterian doctrine '~A
parity, which had been laid down as a fundamental
principle of the Scottish church, the chief prelatic
offices were still continued, through the ovcrljearing
influence of those nobles who now directed the
government. But it was from no love of Episcopacy
in the abstract that these magnates continued such
charges, obnoxious though they were to the church
and the people at large, but that they might derive
from them a profitable revenue as lay proprietors
of the livings. In this way the Earl of Morton had
acquired a claim to the revenues of the archbishcipric
of St. Andrews, and only needed some ecclesiastic
who could wear the title, and discharge its duties,
for a small percentage of the benefice. It was a
degrading position for a churchman, and yet there
were too many willing to occupy it, either from
love of the empty name, or an ambitious hope of
converting it into a substantial reality. Among
these aspirants for the primacy of Scotland, Patrick
Adamson was suspected to be one; and it was thought
that he hoped to succeed through the intluence of
his patron, M'Gill of Rankeillor. These surmises
his subsequent conduct too well justified. But
Morton had already made his election in favour of
John Douglas, who was inducted into tlie otTice,
notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of John
Knox. The conduct of Adamson on this occasion
was long after remembered. The week after the
induction, and when the greatest conccjurse of
people was expected, he ascended the puli^it and
delivered a vehement and sarcastic sermon against
the episcopal office as then exercised in .Scotland.
"There are three sorts of bishops," he said; "my
lord bishop, my lord's bishop, and the Lorti's
bishop. My lord bishop was in the Papistry; my
lord's bishop is now, when my lord gets the bene-
fice and the bishop serves for nothing but to make
his title sure; and the Lord's bishop is t!ie true
minister of the gospel." He saw that, lor tlie
present at least, he could not be jirimate of St.
.Vndrews, and therefore turned his attenti'.n to tlie
more humble otTices of the church. Aii'i there,
indeed, whatever could satisfy the wishes ot' a .simple
presliyter was within his reach; for he \\a- r."t oi.Iy
in general esteem among his brethren, bi:t liiglily
and justly valued fir his scholarsliip, and liis cate-
cliism of Calvin in Latin liernic verse, wlii^!'. he \\?A
written in France, and was about to jr.i'Ksh ir.
Scotland with the approbation of the tleiier.d .\--
sembly. He now announceil his willin.;rie~- to re-
sume the duties of the mini-tr}-; and the t-wn ■ 1
Paisley became his sjihere oi' duty. acC' U'iir.^ !■■ '.he

j appointment of the .\sse:nMy. In aii'iiti";-. '<■• '.!••-.

' he was subse-iuently appointed c^ 'nimis-:. •r.er i-l
Gallowav, an otVice which rcseniMcd tli.it c ; .1 1 >Iii'ji
as to its duties, but dive-ted of all its ; :e-eir.i:ie;Ke

i anfl emolument. Some •>!' tlie ho-t ir.eu . i ;!ie k'.rk
had undertaken this thankl-.s-s uiV;ce with a"..iCrity,

i6

PATRICK ADAMSON.

and dischargeil its duties with diligence, but such
was not the case with I'atrick Adamson; and when
his remissness as a commissioner was complained of
to the General Assembly, he acknowledged the
justice of the accusation, but pleaded in excuse that
no stipend was attached to the office.

Of the labours of Adamson while minister of
Paisley no record has been preserved. His time
there, however, w.as brief, as a new sphere was
opened to his ambition. The great subject of
an.xicty at this period in the church was the con-
struction of the /)W,i' of Policy, otherwise called the
SaonJ Poo': of Disciplnu; and procuring its ratifi-
cation by the government; but the chief obstacle in
the way was the Karl of Morton, now regent, whose
principal aim, besides enriching himself with the
ecclesiastical revenues, was to bring the two churches
of England and Scotland into as close a conformity
as jK)ssible, in order to facilitate the future union of
the two kingdoms under the reign of his young
master, James \'I. Here it is that we find Adamson
busy, ile b-jcame an active negotiator for the Book
of i'oluy, and while he managcil to secure the confi-
dence of the lea<iing men in the churcli, he ingrati-
ated himself into the favour of the regent; so that
when the latter chose him for his chaplain, the
brethren seem to have hojied that the accomplish-
ment of their purpose would l)e facilitated by having
such an advocate at court. But never were ecclesi-
astics more thoroughly iiisap])ointed in their hopes
from such a quarter. The archbisho)iric of St. An-
drews had again become vacant, and .Morton nomin-
ated Adamson to the see, who, on receiving tlie ap-
pointment, began even already to show that he would
hold it iiuL'pendently of the authority of tlie churcli
by refusing to submit to the usual trial and examina-
tion <jf the .\ssembly. While chaplain to the regent,
he had been wont, while preaching and giving his
glosses upon texts of .Scripture, to say, "The i)roi)het
would mean this" — a phrase so usual with him on such
occasions that his hearers coultl not help noticing it.
At length, when he became ])rimale of .Scotland,
Captain .Moiitgomery, one of the regent's officers,
exclaimed, with dry humour, "I never knew what
the prophet meant till now I'' As Adanison's enter-
ing into the archbish<jpric was such an act of con-
travention to the authority of the church, the As-
sembly, at one of its meetings in 1577, resolved to
institute jirifcecdings against the ofTender. Ihit even
this formidable danger he was able to avert for the
time with his wonted craft. He ]in;fessed the
utmijst Iniinility, and offered to lay d<jwn his office
at the feet of the .Assembly, and be or(lere<l at their
ple.isure, l)Ut represented h(jw desirable it would be
t ) p')-.tpon'.- all such proceedings until tlic Book of
Policy had l>.-en finished, and ratified by the regent.
The matter was thu-. reduced to a mere question of
lime, and his sugge^tiorl prevailed.

'Ihe great suliject now at i^-ue wa^ the l^ook of
p.cclcsHUticil /W/<j' -the M.agna Charla of the
Church of Scotland -upon the ]).assing of which its
rights and lil)ertics as a national church were at stake.
It wa>, as might have l)cen expected, completely
pre^byterian in its <ii..ci]iliiie, an<l subversive of that
cpi-CM])al nde which the court was labouring to
estal.ilis!i. .\mong these enactments it was decreed
that no hi^hoj) should be designated by his til It', Imt
hi-s own name, as a brutlier, seeing he iielniigcd to a
church that has but one Lord, even (lirist that no
bisho|)S should thencefirtli be a]ipointed in it; and
that no ministir shnild accejjt tlie office on pain of
deprivation. .Against such cr)nclu>ions it is not
Wonderful that .\damson demurred. I'.ut a^ himself
and thj iJidiop of Aberdeen constituted the entire

minority in the Assembly, his opposition went no
further than to procrastinate any final conclusion.
But the Policy was at length concluded, and ready
to be presented to the government, and for this
Adamson h.ad reserved his master-stroke. The book
was to be subscribed l)y every member individually,
but this form the archbishop opposed. "Nay," he
said, "we have an honest man, our clerk, to sub-
scribe for all; and it would derogate from his faithful-
ness and estimation if we should all severally sub-
scribe." The brethren assented to the proposal,
although some of them seem to have entertained a
lurking suspicion that all was not right; so that Mr.
Andrew Hay, minister of Renfrew, could not help
exclaiming, "Well, if any man comes against this,
or denies it hereafter, he is not honest." He stepped
up to Adamson, and said to him in the presence of
three or four by-standers, "There is my hand, Mr.
Patrick; if you come against this hereafter, consent-
ing now so thoroughly to it, 1 will call you a knave,
were it never so publicly." The Jkwk of Policy was
to be jircsented to the Lords of Articles for ratifica-
tion on the part of the government; and strangely
enough, Adams-^n was commissioned to present it.
Morton and the lords asked him if he had given his
assent to these enactments, to which he answered
that he had not, and that he had refused to subscribe
to them. Here was a loophole of escape for the
council: the Archl)ishop of St. Andrews had with-
held his assent, and they could do no less than follow
the example. The book was rejected, and the
ministers were left to divine the cause of the refusal.
But Andrew Hay, on incpiiring of several members
of council, who told him the particulars, and laid the
whole blame of the refusal on Adamson, soon saw
that he had a pledge to redeem; and on the arch-
bishop passing Ijy at that instant, he griped him by
the hand, looked him angrily in the face, and ex-
claimed, in presence of the others, "O knave, knave,
I will crown thee the knave of all knaves!" It is
enough to add here, that the Book of Policy, after
having been delayed three years hunger, was in 158 1
thoroughly ratifietl and ordained in every point, and
orderetl to be registered in the books of the Assembly.
As for Adamson, we find him employed during this
interval in preaching in St. Andrews, lecturing in
the college, and attending the meetings of the
(ieneral Assembly, but with no greater authc^rity
than that of the ordinary brethren. But symptoms
even already liatl shown that the court favour upon
which he was willing to build was but a sandy
foundation, for his powerful ]iatron, the I'.arl of
.Morton, ha<l been brought to the block. lie j^re-
]iared himself, therefore, to recognize the authority
of the kirk in the doctrine of bishojis, to which he
had been op]iosed, and even gave his subscription to
the articles of the Jiook of J\ilicy, which he had
hitherto withheld. This was in .St. Andrews,
before the celebrated Andrew Melville and a parly
of his friends who were assembled with him. Jhit
all this was insufficient: he must also secure the
favour of the party in ]iowcr, wliatever for the time
it might be; and for this pur])ose he ])assed over to
Ldinburgh, and took his seat in the Convention of
Lstates. Here, however, his recei)lion was so little
to his liking, tliat he found he mu-t side wholly with
the kirk. He therefore addressed himself to the
niinisteis of Ivlinburgh with jirofcssions which
his sul>se(iuent conduct showed to be downright
liyi>ocrisy. lie told them that he had come over to
tlie court in the spirit of Balaam, on purjiose to curse
the kirk and do evil; but that (iod had so wrought
with him, that his heart was wholly changed, so that
he had advocated and voted in the churcli's behalf —

PATRICK ADAMSON.

17

and that hencefortli he would show further and further
fruits of his conversion and good meaning. This self-
abasing comparison of himself to Balaam must have
staggered the unfavourable suspicions of the most
sceptical; at all events, it did so with the apostolic
John Duric, who rejoiced over the primate's conver-
sion, and wrote a flattering account of it to James
\relville. The latter, in consequence, visited Adam-
son upon his return, and tolfl him the tidings he had
received, for which he heartily thanked God, and
offered the archbishop the right hand of Christian
fellowship. The other, still continuing his penitent
grimace, described the change that had passed upon
him at great length, which he attributed to the work-
ing of the .Spirit within him. Perhaps he overacted
his part, for Melville only observed in reply, "Well,
that Spirit is an upright, holy, and constant Spirit,
and will more and more manifest itself in effects; but
it is a fearful thing to lie against him!"

It was indeed full time for the Archbishop of St.
Andrews not only to recover his lost credit with the
kirk, but the community at large. He was generally
accused of the vices of intemperance and gluttony;
he was noted as an unfaithful paymaster, so that he
stood upon the score of most of the shopkeepers in
the town; and what was still worse, he was accused
of consorting with witches, and availing himself of
their unlawful power! We of the nineteenth century
can laugh at such a charge, and imagine it sufficient
not only to disprove itself, but weaken all the other
charges brought against him. But in the sixteenth
century it was no such laughing matter; for there
were not only silly women in abundance to proclaim
themselves witches, but wise men to believe them.
Even the pulpits of England as well as .Scotland re-
sounded with sermons against witchcraft; and the
learned and wise Bishop Jewel, while preaching be-
fore Eli/.aboth, assured her majesty that the many
people who were dying daily, in spite of all the aid
of leechcraft, were thus brought to their end by spells
and incantations. While this was the prevalent be-
lief, a person having recourse to such agency was
wilfully and deliberately seeking help from the devil,
and seeking it where he thought it could best be
found. Now Adamson, among his other offences,
had fallen into this predicament. He was afHicted
with a painful disease, which he called a "fcedity;"
and being unable to obtain relief from the regular
practitioners, he had recourse to the witches of Fife,
and among others, to a notable woman, who pre-
tended to have learned the art of healing from a
physician who had appeared to her after he was dead
and buried ! This wretched creature, on being ap-
prehended and convicted of sorcery, or what she
meant to be such, was sentenced to sufter death, as
she would have been in any other country of Europe,
and was given in charge to the archbishop for exe-
cution. But the woman made her escape, and this,
it was suppo-^ed, she did through Adamson's con-
nivance. .Xfter this statement, it needs scarcely be
wondered at that foremost in the accusations both
from the pulpit and in church-courts, the crime of
seeking aid from Satan should have been specially
urged again>t him. The m.an who will attempt "to
call spirits from the vasty deep," incurs the guilt of
sorcery whether they come or not.

While such wa-> tiic evil jilight to which the arch-
bisho]) was reduced, and out of which he was trving
to struggle as he best could, the condition of pul)lic
afifiiirs was scarcely more ]iromising for his interests.
In the Assembly held in .\pril, 1582. he had seen
Robert Montgomery, Archbisliop of Glasgow, who
was his constant ally in every ejiiscopal movement,
arraigned at their bar, reduced to the most humbling

VOL. I.

confessions, and dismissed with the fear of deposition
hanging over him. In the same year, the Raid of
Ruthven had occurred, by which' the roval power
was coerced, and presbytery established in greater
authority than ever. Dismayed by these ominous
symptoms, Adamson withdrew from ])ublic notice
to his castle of St. Andrews, where he kept himself
"like a tod in his hole," giving out that his painful
"fcedity" was the cause of his retirement. But at
length the sky began to brighten, and the primate to
venture forth after a whole year of concealment.
The king emancipated himself from his nobles of the
Raid, and came to .St. Andrews, upon which the
archbishop, flinging off his sickness like a worn-out
cloak, resumed his abandoned puljiit with royalty
for an auditor, and preached such sermons as were
well fitted to ingratiate himself into the favour of the
young sovereign. They were furious declamations
against the lords of the Raid, against the ministers
of the kirk by whom they had been countenanced,
and against all their proceedings by which the head-
long will of James had been reduced within whole-
some limits; and these, too, were delivere<l in such
fashion, as, we are informed by James Melville, " that
he who often professed from the pulpit before that
he had not the spirit of application, got the gift of
application by inspiration of such a spirit as never
spoke in the Scriptures of God." Among the other
effects of the Raid of Ruthven, was the 1 anishment
of the king's unworthy favourites, the Earl of Arran
and the Duke of Lennox, the former from the royal
presence, and the latter from the country-; and Len-
nox took his exile so much to heart, that he died
soon after he arrived in France, while James con-
tinued to bewail his loss. Here, then, was a favour-
able theme for the archbishop. The chief offence
alleged against Lennox was, that though outwardly
a Protestant, he had not only lived, but even died, a
Papist; and from this stigma it was .-\damson's main
effort to clear the memory of the departed. He there-
fore boldly asserted, in his sermon, that Lennox had
died a good Protestant, and in proof of this he ex-
hibited in the pulpit a scroll, which he called the
duke's testament. It happened unluckily for the
preacher, however, that an honest merchant woman,
who sat near the pulpit, looked narrowly at this
important document, and saw with astoni.-hment
that it was an account of her own, which she had
sent to the archbishop for a debt of some four or five
years' standing, but which, like other reckonings of
the kind, he had left unpaid !

.•\damson's loyalty was soon rewarded, and in a
way that best accorded with his wishes. He was to
be employed as ambassador or envoy from the king
to the court of London. What was the osten>il)Ie
object of his mission does not appear; but its real
purport was, the suppression of Presbyteriani>m in
.Scotland, and the establishment of such a form of
Episcopacy in its stead as might make the union C'l
the two countries more comjilete, when James .-hould
become king of botli. But in such .in office tlie
messenger behoved to go warily to work. a> f.Iiza-
beth was apt to take fire at every movement t!~.at
pointed to a succession in her throne. Ar.oth.er
serious difficulty interposed in the ven.- tlireshold ut
the archbisho]>'s dej^arture. He had aheai!}' been
charged before the probvten.- of St. .Andrews, as
corruj)t both in life and doctrine: tb.e trial w.-- re-
moved to the svnod. and was finally remitic] t" :!>:
General Assembly, at whose bar he nn;>t -i-.^tih' !;:ni-
sclf, or lie deposed for noii-ajij.earance; aivi i.e t:.'.;-^
felt himself between the boms ff a dileiiin.a in w!;:c:i
his compearance or absence miglit i^e ei:.:a:iy l.Tt.-i.
If, however, he could onlv get the trial ^;c:a}c i i:r.'.:l

2

PATRICK ADAMSON.

he had accomplished his mission, he might then
brave it, or quash it with impunity. He therefore
calle<l sickness to his aid, and pretended that he was
going to the wells of Spa, in Germany, for the re-
covery of his health; and this was nothing more than
reasonable, even though he should take London by
the way. Forth therefore he went, unhin<iered and
unsuspected; and, if there is any tnith in Thi-
L^i^cmi of thf I.ymmars /.//<•, a satirical poem
written by Rol)ert Semple, tlie archbisho])'s conduct
during this embassy was anytliing but creditable to
his employers. His chief aim, indeed, seems to have
been to replenish his extenuated purse; and, provided
this was accomplished, he was not scru]iulous about
the means. Even horses, books, and gowns came
into his permanent possession under the name of
loans. His approach to tlie palace for his first, and,
as it turned out, his last audience, was equally un-
seemly, for he useil the hallowed wall of the jwlace
of the virgin queen with as little fastidiousness as
if it had l>een the ding)- habitation of some Scottish
biron in one of the closes of the Canong.ate, so that
a porter, who espied him from the gate, rushed out
and rebuked his indecorum with a cudgel. But,
amidst all his Scapin-like tricks in the English
metropolis, fmm which he seems to have derived for
the time a comfortable revenue, Adamson was not
unmindful of the real object of his journey, which he
pursued with a diligence worthy of a better cause.
He endeavoured to enlist the prejudices of the (jueen
against the mmisters of Scotland, and such of the
nobility as favoured them; he consulted with tlie
bishops upon the best means of conforming the
Scottish to the English church; and, aware of the
puqwse of his own court to l)anish or silence tlie
iK'st of the clergy, he wished them to send learned
and able ministers to sup])ly the pulpits of those who
were to Ik; displaced. 15ut. not content with this,
he endeavoured to bring the Kirk of Scotland into
<iiscredit with the foreign reformed churches of
France, Cieneva, and Zurich, by sending to them a
list of garbled or distorted jiassagcs as propositions
extracted from the Scottish Confession, and craving
tlieir o]iinion as to their soundness. It was a crafty
device, and might have been attended with much
mischief, had it not been that an antidote to the
bane was at this time in England, in tlie jierson of
Mr. .Andrew Melville, a more accomplishe(i scholar,
as well as a more al)le and eloquent writer, than
.\dam'»on him-;elf. He drew iq) a true statement of
the su!)iccts propounded, and sent tliem to the for-
eign churches by which the archbishop's design was
fru'itrated. I!ut tlie work of mere ecclesiastical di]i-
lomacy iloes nut seem to have been sufficient for the
restless .•\dam>f)n, so that he was susix-ctcd of in-
triguing with the French and S|>anish ambassadors,
and connecting him-elf with the jilot of Throckmor-
ton, the object of which was tlie liberation of Marv
and the restoration of I'opery. It was a strange
^•)erif)d of jilots and con'.])iracies, where I'roteslant,
Pajiist, and Puritan, jiriest and layman, fireigner
and Englisliman, were often mingled together as in
a sctlhing and bubtiling cauldron, for tlie concoction
of a charm by which a cure for every |)ublic evil was
tfi be effected. It wa-, immediately on the detection
of this Throckmorton cons])ira('y, and the ap]irelien-
sion of its author, that the archbishop secretly with-
drew from England and returned home, after having
been employed fully six montl's in these and other
such devices in London.

While Adam'ion had thus l)ccn occui>icd in Eng-
l.ind, the government at I'.onie had not been idle;
and the worthless Ivarl fif .Arran, who, since the
suppression of the Raid of Ruthven, had recovered

the royal favour, proceeded to put his plan in execu-
tion of silencing, imprisoning, and banishing the
best and most disting\iished of the Scottish clergy.
It was thus that the tlocks were to be brought to
helplessness, and a new order of shepherds intro-
duced. The list of the persecuted was a large one;
but among the most illustrious of these were some
of the most distingiushed lights of the Scottish re-
formation, such as Andrew Melville, John Davidson,
Walter Balcanquhal, and Janieg Lawson. Of these
we can only particularize tlie last, as his closing
scene was but too intimately connected with the
history of Patrick Adamson. Lawson had been the
friend and fellow-labourer of Knox, whom he suc-
ceeded as minister of Edinburgh; and in this im-
portant charge, while he was closely connected with
all the principal ecclesiastical movements of the
period, he was distinguished by his gentleness, self-
denial, and piety. Put these were the very qualities
that now marked him out as a victim; and the im-
perious Anan did not hesitate to threaten that,
though his head were as big as a haystack, he would
make it fly from his shoulders. Lawson knew that
his life was aimed at, and, like several of his brethren
thus circumstanced, he fled to England, and took
up his residence at London, in one of the lanes
leading from Cheapside. Put the uncongenial cli-
mate, and, above all, the defection of many of his
flock during his absence, so heavily afflicted him,
that he fell into a disease, of which he died in little
more than a month. Upon his death-bed, the English
who visited liim were edified with his pious remarks,
which they carefully treasured up for their families
and accjuaintances; and his last prayers were for mercy
in behalf of those who would neither enter the king-
dom of God themselves, nor suffer others to enter
therein. And will it be believed that Patrick Adam-
son, the man for whom in especial he had so prayed,
conceived the idea of perverting such a death-bed
to his own political purposes? But so it was. He
s.at down with the pen of a ready writer, and composed
an elaborate testament in Lawson's name, in which
the dying man was made to abjure all his Presbyter-
ian principles, to grieve over them as deadly sins, to
recommend the government of the cliurch by bishops,
and enjoin imjilicit obedience to the king's authority.
It was indeed a bold exploit in literaiy forgery; but,
at this jieriod and afterwards, \\hen the jien outran
the activity of the jmtss, and communities were so
separated, it was easy to make a fraud of this kind,
where tlie locality was transferred to London, to pass
current in the streets of Edinl)urgh. There is no
doubt that thus the archbishop had calculated; but,
like many very cunning jieople, he in this instance
betrayed himself by his over-scrupulous dexteritv.
Thus, not content with making Lawson recant all
the jirinciples of his well-spent life with a hurry that
was inconceivable, and laud ciiisco])al rule with an
unction and earnestness which the Archbishop of
Canterbury himself could not have surjiassed, he also
made him, in exhorting his old co-]iresbyters, to
vent a malignity of sentiment, and drolling bitterness
of satire, such as, whether living or dying, Lawson
could not and would not have used. But it fortun-
ately happened that proof still stronger than inferen-
tial evidence was at hand, to convict this imjiudent
forgery; for Lawson himself had written his last
testament, \\liich was witnessed with the honoured
names of .Andrew Melville, James Carmichael, John
Davidson, and Walter P.alcan(iuhal.

After his return from I'Lngland, Adamson did not
lie idle; he zealously joined the king and Arran in
their ])ersecution of the best adherents of the kirk,
under which, not only the princii;al ministers, but

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

19

also the chief of the nobility, were fugitives in Eng-
land. His pen also was soon in requisition for a
more dignified work, at least, than that of blacken-
ing the memory of a departed brother; it was to
advocate, defend, anil justify certain obnoxious mea-
sures of James and his favourite, that had passed
through the parliament in 1584, and were generally
unpopular, buth on account of their anti-presbyterian
spirit in religion and their despotic tendencies in
civil rule. This task Adamson accomplished, and
with such plausibility and ingenuity, that his apology
was not only in high favour with the king, but widely
popular in England, so that it was inserted in the
appendix of Holinshed's History as a true picture of
the religious state of Scotland. But this was not his
only reward. Although he was still a suspended
presbyter, with his trial by the General Assembly
hanging over him, and accounted a very Julian the
Apostate by his former brethren, yet he was now to
be confirmed in his primacy, with all the high rights
and immunities that could be comprised within the
otTice. This was announced by a royal letter, under
the great seal, and, as such, was indignantly termed
by the ministers the King's bull, "giving and grant-
ing to his well-beloved clerk and orator, Patrick,
Archbishop of St. Andrews, power, authority, and
jurisdiction to exercise the same archbishopric by
himself, his commissioners, and deputies, in all
matters ecclesiastical, within the diocese of St. An-
drews, and sheriffdoms which have been heretofore
annexed thereto." In this way he would be able to
sit as presiding moderator in that Assembly where
he should have stood as a culprit, and to silence the
charges which he could not answer. But this, his
culminating point, was also that of his downfal.
The banished lords, who had withdrawn themselves
to England, now took counsel upon the oppressed
state of their country, and resolved to redress it after
the old Scottish fashion. They therefore approached
the border, where they could communicate with
their allies, and appoint musters of their retainers;
and at length, all being in readiness, Angus, Mar,
(jlammis, and the Ilamiltons entered Scotland, and
rapidly marched to Stirling, at the head of eight
thoiLsand armed men, to reason with their misguided
sovereign. lie soon found himself, like many of
his ancestors, the pupil of force and necessity, and
was compelled to yield to their stern remonstrances;
while Arran was again, and for the last time, ban-
ished into that obscurity from which he should never
have been summoned.

The return of the exiled lords, and the banish-
ment of Arran from court, produced a l:)reathing in-
terval to the kirk; and the ministers who had been
dispersed, warded, or silenced, were restored to lib-
erty and their charges. It was now time, therefore,
to redress the evils that had t)een inflicted upon the
church, and these too by members of its own body,
during tlie last two years of trial, if its polity and
discipline were to be something more than a name.
It was a stern duty, a* Adamscm was soon to feel.
He h.ad laixmred for the eversion of the kirk, and
the ]icrsecutiiin of iis ministers, under an unconstitu-
tional authority against which he had protested and
subscribed; and fur all this he must answer before
the court to which the assize of such delinquencies
pertained. Tiie symxl of St. Andrews, wliich had
been closed tluring the persecution, was to be re-
opened; and their first work was to be the trial of
their own archltislio]). whom their laws recognized
as a simple presbyter, and nothing more. This
solemn meeting was therefore convoked in .Vpril,
15S6. to wiiich a great concomsc assembled; and
thither also came the archbishop, '"with a great

pontificality and big countenance," for he Ixjasted
that he was in his own city, and possessed of the
king's favour, and therefore needed to fear no one.
He also placed himself close by the ])reacher, who
was Mr. James Melville, as if determined to outbrave
the whole assembly. The discourse was a vindica-
tion of the polity of the church, and a rehearsal of
the wrongs it had suffered; and then, "coming in
particular," .says Melville himself, "to our own Kirk
of Scotland, I turned to the bishop, sitting at my
elbow, and directing my sjjcech to him personally,
I recounted to him, shortly, his life, actions, and
proceedings against the kirk, taking the assembly
there to witness, and his own conscience before God,
if he was not an evident proof and example of that
doctrine; whom, being a minister of the kirk, the
dragon had so stung with the poison and venom of
avarice and ambition, that, swelling exorljitantly out
of measure, threatened the wreck and destruction of
the whole body, unless he were timeously and with
courage cut off." To this formidable appeal the
archbishop endeavoured to answer, but it was oniv
with frivolous objections and threats of the king's
displeasure, while his courage was so utterly gone
that he could scarcely sit, far less stand on his feet.
But the business commenced, the process was entered
into, and Adamson left the meeting. He was in-
vited to return, but he sent for answer that the synod
was no judge to him, but he to it. He not only
persisted in refusing to appear, but sent such answers
to the charges against him as only aggravated the
offence. Nothing remained but to inflict upon him
the final sentence of the church, which was done
accordingly.

The doom so long suspended had thus fallen at
last; but still the primate would not yield. He ral-
lied himself for a desperate counter-movement, and
penned, by his own sole authority, a sentence of
excommunication against the two Melvillesand some
of his principal accusers in the synod, which he sent
by a boy, accompanied by two of liis jackmen ; but
when this most informal missive was read in the
church, the audience were as little moved as if he had
excommunicated the stones of the building. He
also sent a complaint against these proceedings to
the king, with an appeal from the authority of the
synod, to his majesty, the estates, and the privy
council. On tlie arrival of Sabbath, he jirepared
for a decisive effort, by preaching in the church in
spite of tlie sentence. But just \\hen he was about
to ascend the pulpit, a mischievous rumour reached
his ear, that several gentlemen and citizens had
assembled in the new college, to take him out of
tiie pulpit, and hang him; and, terrified at the report,
lie not only called his friends and jackmen to the
rescue, but fled from the church, and took refuge in
the stee]->le. And yet the whole cause of tl;e stir
was nothing more than tlie assembling of a few
gentlemen and citizens in the new college, to attend
the preaching of Andrew Melville, instead of that of
an excommunicated man I The archbishop's friends
f )llowed him to the stee]ile. to .assure him of has
safety; but so desperate was his fear, that tliey c ■,■.!■!
scarcely drag him out by force. \\ hile he \\ .> li;ii!-
led, half-carried down the High Street, and thro,— ii
the north gate towards his ca-;le, an unlucky -tr.iy
hare, terrified at the coming <lin. suddenly >:.u-:i.d
u]i, and fled before tlier.i. fiven this incident c idd
imjiart some gravity to the >ceiie. It ^^.l~ a ].■ -j ■.;'..-ir
belief at that time in Scotland th.at a wiu':. \vlKn
jnirsued, usually a-.-umed the form of a !:-;c. r..i're
eftectually to in-ure her escape; and th.e a;'] e.irance
of the p<ic)r animal at s;;c:i a time .ml j !ace n.a':c
the people declare th.\t it \\ as U'j etiier tl..-;;i the

PATRICK ADAMSOX.

prelate's witch, abandoning her master, to make
good her own safety.

We have already stated that Adamson appealed
against the sentence of excommunication, to the
authority of the king. In this singular appeal, he
declaimed with great learning and marvellous jjlausi-
bility about the right of royalty to interpose against
ecclesi.istical as well as civil tyranny; and as he
hail already made out, as he thought, his own case
to he one of undue ecclesiastical opjiression on the
part of his enemies, the conclusion was jilain, that
the king could lawfully release him from the spiritual
sentence. He wound up his reasoning with the
following supposition, to which, he well knew,
James would not be insensible: " IJesecching your
m.ijesty to consider and weigh witli your highness'
self, nobility, and council, how dangerous a thing it
is to put such a sword in such men's hands, or to
sutler them to usurp further than their duty; whereby
it may come to pass, that as r.lshly and unorderly
they have jiretendedly excommunicated the first man
of your majesty's parliament (albeit unworthy), so
there rests nothing of their next attempt to do the
same to your majesty's self" The king's i)ride
was roused at such a thought, and he arrogantly
re<juired the ministers to rescind their sentence,
threatening them with the deprivation of their rights
and stipends in the event of a refusal. The General
Assembly met in May the same year, when these
conditions were proposed, and the members were in
sore strait how to act, for most of the restoretl lords,
after l>eing replacetl in their possessions, had left the
cliurch to shift for itself At length a medium
course was ado])ted by tlie Assembly, and that, too,
only by a small majority. It was, that the arch-
bishop "should be holden and repute in the same
ca>e and condition that he was in l)efore the holding
of the synod of St. Anilrews, witliout jirejudice,
decerning, or judging anything of the jiroceedings,
process, or sentence of the same synod." It was a
strange decision, by which Adamson was allowed
to teach, preach, and exercise his clerical functions,
excommunicated though he still was; while the
jmlpits, by royal decree, were not only to be jmtent
to his entrance, but the students of St. Andrews
were C'immanded to attend his lectures in the old
cijjlege as heretofore. This violence, as miglit be
expected, pro<luced counter-violence, so that lil)els
Were thrown not only into the arclibishop's chamber,
but the [lulpits in which he i)tTiciate<l, threatening
him With death for his intrusion. .Xiid as if all lliis
had n<)t l>een enough, he added to his further dis-
quahhcations, by inability to ]>ay his dcbl^, in conse-
quence (jf which he was, according to the practice of
the Scottish law, denounced a rebel, ami put to the
horn. This case was brouglu before the .'\sseinbly
of June, 15S7, because many ])eo]ilc had demurred
to attend his ministrations while he lai)ouied uinkr
such fk-grading disabilities. The .Assembly, howtvcr,
decided that these were of a civil r.ither than an
ecclesiastical character, and referred them to the king
for a'lju>tment.

In the very same year and month, while .Xdamson
was in tliis miserable i)light--an excomnuinicated
ministfrr and an outlawc<l j-relate- the first man in
the parliament, and yet a denounced rebel because
he could not pay his dehls — a gleam of royal sunshine
fell upon hini, which was destined to l)e the last.
The celebrated I )u I'.artes v,-.ited Scotland, and
James was desirous that the learned poet should see
the two most accom[)lished scholars in .Scotland- -
.•\ndrew .Melville and Patrick .Adamson. To .St.
Andrews, accordingly, the royal ri);-A;Y repaired ; and
thj first notice which Melville had of the visit was

from the king himself, who bluntly told him that he
had come with the illustrious foreigner, to have a
lesson from him in his class-room. Melville would
have excused himself, on the plea that he had already
delivered his ordinary lecture in the forenoon. "That
is all one," said the king; "I 7nust have a lesson,
and be you here within an hour for that effect." In
less than an hour the professor was in readiness,
and commenced such a lecture, as made the king
wish himself once more among the deer in Falkland.
It was an eloquent extemporaneous oration, in which
he vindicated Christ's right of sovereignty over his
own church, and refuted and exposed the acts of
parliament that had been lately enacted subversive
of the kirk's authority. James went home in no
very pleasant mood, and remained in a fume the
whole evening. On the next morning it was Adam-
son's turn, who was not likely to trespass in the
same fashion. During the interval, he had prepared
a "tightencd-up abridgment" of his previous year's
lectures, in which he attempted to vindicate the
royal supremacy in ecclesiastical affairs, and justify
the steps that had been taken for that purpose.
Andrew Melville, who attended as an auditor, took
notes of the archbishop's arguments; and without
further study, caused the college bell to be rung
after a short interval, to announce a new lecture.
The king, who had not yet digested the lesson of
yesterday, sent a warning to Melville to be moderate,
otherwise he would discharge him; to which the
other replied, that his majesty's ear had already been
abused by Adamson's errors and untruths, which he
could not allow to pass unquestioned, unless his
breath were stopped by death itself — but that still,
he should be careful to behave himself most
moderately and reverendly to his majesty in all
respects. The king was satisfied with this assur-
ance, and repaired to the class-room, where Adam-
son was also in attendance; and he craved and ob-
tained the royal permission to reply, should any-
thing be alleged against his doctrine. The two
strong champions were now standing front to front
in the lists — and never had king of Scotland so
delighted in the hurtling together of man and horse,
and the shivering of spears, as did James in the pro-
sitect of an intellectual tournament, where dexterous
syllogisms and home-thrust arguments were the only
blows in circulation. But here Melville changed
his tactics, in a way that would have puzzled the most
exiJcrienced master of fence. He had no longer a
controversy with ]';]iisco]iacy, but with I'opery, the
great common enemy of Protestantism at large; and
thus secure of the symjialhy of his audience, he ex-
tracted from the works of the Pojiish authors the
strongest arguments they had adduced in defence of
their system, for the purpose of refuting them. l?ut
these arguments were the very same a\ hich Adamson
had used in the forenoon, in favour of the s])iritual
government of kings and bisho])sI There, however,
tliey stood among the ranks of the uncircumcised;
and as such, they were attacked with an amount of
.Scripture and learning, and a force and fervour of
eloquence, as com])letely swe]it them off the field.
It was now the arclil)isho])'s turn to bestir himself,
but he was dumb— dumb as the l)ench he sat upon.
.At last, the king advanced to the rescue; and after
making several logical distiu;^7ios, ujion which he
harangued for some time, he ended by commanding
the students to reverence and obey his archbishop.
When James departed, Du Bartes stayed behind a
whole hour, conversing with Andrew Melville, after
which lie mounted his horse, and rejoined his
majesty. The king wished to know the opinion of
1 the foreigner upon the two men they had heard; to

PATRICK ADAMSON

SIR ANDREW AGXEW.

which Du Bartcs replied, that they were both
learned men, but that the prelate's lectures were
conned and prepared, while Melville had a great and
ready store of all kinds of learning within him; and
that his spirit and courage were far above the other.
In this correct estimate James completely agreed.

From this period the life of Adamson was but a
brief and mournful record. After his late discom-
fiture, he became weary of teaching in the college,
and seems to have remitted it in a great measure to
his successful rival. The ministrations of the pulpit
could not console him, as the audiences either avoided
him as an excommunicated man, or tarried and
listened as to the voice of an intruder. Fresh com-
plaints were made against him in the church courts,
of having collated unworthy persons to benefices
within his diocese. And, to crown all, he finally
lost the favour and protection of the king, whom he
had served only too well, but who was now weary
of an archbishop buried under debt and disgrace,
and whose season of working seemed well nigh over.
Broken in health as well as in spirit, it might have
been thought that James would at least have suffered
such a faithful servant to depart in peace; but as if
his own ungrateful hand, and no other, ought to
deal the final blow, he alienated from him whatever
of the revenues of his diocese he was still permitted
to enjoy, and bestowed them upon the young Duke
of Lennox, the son of his early favourite. In 1591,
Adamson was dying a heart-broken man, and unable
to procure for himself and his family even the
common necessaries of life. But besides hollow
friends, he had generous enemies, and these last
came for\vard in the hour of his extremity. Such
especially were the two Melvilles, whom he had
persecuted in the season of his ascendency, but who
now supported him for several months at their own
expense. At last, he was reduced to such miserable
shifts, that he entreated a charitable collection to be
made for him among the brethren in the town of St.
Andrews; and as an inducement, he offered to repair
to the pulpit, and there make open confession of his
offences. This, indeed, his sickness prevented him
from accomplishing; but he rendered an equivalent,
in a distinct "Recantation," which he subscribed,
and sent to the synod of St. Andrews. Besides thus
showing how little he had cared for Episcopacy,
and how much he had used it for his own aggrandize-
ment, he evinced tlie force of his early and long-
concealed convictions in favour of Presbyterianism,
by the remorse which he now felt at the thought of
his excommunication, and his earnestness to be
absolved from the sentence; and to this effect he
sent a supplication to the presbyter)' of St. Andrews.
They deputed two of the t)rethren, one of whom was
James Melville, to examine him, and, if they judged
fit, to release him. As soon as the dying man saw
Melville, he rose up in bed, plucked the night-cap
from his head, and exclaimed, "Forgive, forgive
me, f)r God's sake, good Mr. James, for I have
offended and done wrong to you many wavs!"
Melville spoke to him of hi:; sin against Christ and
his church, exhorted him to repentance, with the
assurance of mercy from God if he repented, and
forgave him with all his heart. His excommunica-
tion was then spoken of, and he was asked if he
acknowledged its lawfulness. To this his emphatic
reply, which he repeated again and again, was,
"Loose me, fir Christ's sake I" His state and
petition were fully reported to the presbyter\-, and
he was fortliwith absolved. Even yet, as appears
from his "Recantation." he had hoped to struggle
through this his last illness; and he jirofessed in it
his earnest desire and purpose to commence a better

life, and repair the evils he had inflicted upon
religion and the church. But his new-born sincerity
was not to be thus tried, and he died in the lowest
depths of his humiliation and repentance. His
character is thus strongly and briefly summed up by
James Melville, who knew him well, and witnessed
his career from its height to its mournful termina-
tion:— "This man had many great gifts, but espe-
cially excelled in the tongue and pen; and yet, for
abusing of the same against Christ, all use of both
the one and the other was taken from him, when fie
was in greatest miser>' and had most need of them. In
the latter end of his life, his nearest friends were no
comfort to him, and his supposed greatest enemies,
to whom indeed he offered greatest occasion of
enmity, were his only friends, and recompensed
good for evil, especially my uncle Andrew, but
found small tokens of any spiritual comf(jrt in him,
which chiefly he would have wished to have seen at
his end. Thus God delivered his kirk of a most
dangerous enemy, who, if he had been endowed with
a common civil piece of honesty in his dealing and
conversation, he had more means to have wrought
mischief in a kirk or country', than any I have known
or heard of in our island."

As will be surmised from the foregoing account,
Patrick Adamson was both an able and a voluminous
writer; but most of his productions were merely
written for the day, and have passed away with the
occasions in which they originated. Some of them
he never purposed to acknowledge, while others
remained unpublished in manuscript. Most of these
he confessed and regretted in his "Recantation,"
declaring, that if it should please God to restore his
health, he would change his style, "as Cajetanus
did at the Council of Trent." His principal v.ritings
were collected and published, in one quarto volume,
by Thomas Volusenus (Wilson) in 1619; but not-
withstanding their undoubted excellence, it may be
questioned if they are now at all known beyond the
library of the antiquary-. It appears that on be-
coming minister of Paisley, Adamson married the
daughter of a lawyer, who survived him, and by
whom he had a family; but all record of them has
passed away, so that he may be said to have been
the last, as he was the first, of his race. The precise
date of his death has not been mentioned; but it was
in the latter part of the year 1 59 1. Such was the
career and end of the great antagonist and rival of
Andrew Melville.

AGNEW, Sir Andrew, of Lochnaw, Br.rt.,
Lieutenant-General. The family of Agnew lays
claim, and probably with justice, to a more illustrious
antiquity than most of our Scottish noble houses.
The Agnews entered Scotland in the reign of
David II., where they acquired the lands of Lochnaw,
and were invested with the offices of heritable con-
stables and sheriffs of Wigtonshire.

The subject of the present memoir, and fifth
baronet of Lochnaw, was bom in 16S7. and \\ as the
eldest son of a family of twenty-one children. This
was a tndy patriarchal numl)cr; but he lived nln-iost
to equal it, being himself ultimately the father il
seventeen sons and daughters by one mother. t!ie
daughter of Agnew of Creoch. Sir Andrew cm-
braced the militan,- profession at an early jer:'"!. ns
many of his family had dor.e, and wa> ."ii .i::;cer in
the great Marlborough campaigns, as we tii^u li.ni a
cornet in the second regiment ot dragoons it ."^cots
Greys at the battle of Ramilics. when he !;.n'l ju^t
reached his nineteenth year. It w.i< in tliis c.iiac.ty.
and under such training, that besii'.es being .1 -'Kiltul
and successful otnccr, he became ii;st;ng'.;oI".ed 1 y

SIR ANDREW AGNEW.

those deeds of personal daring, as well as eccentric
peculiarities of manner, that long made him a
favourite in the fireside legends of the Scottish
peasantry. Among these, we are told, that on one
occasion having been appointed to superintend the
interment of the slain after one of the continental
engagements, his ortlerly came to him in great per-
plexity, saying, "Sir, there is a heap of fellows
lying yonder, who say they are only wounded, and
won^t consent to be burietl like the rest: what shall
1 tlo?" "liup.- them at once," cried Sir Andrew,
"for if you take their own word for it, they won't
be deail for a hundred years to come 1 " The man,
who understood nothing beyond tiie word of com-
mand, made his military salaam and went off with
full purpose to execute the order to the letter, wiien
he was checked by a counter-order from his superior,
who perhaps little thought that his joke wouhl have
been carried so far. On another occasion, when an
engagement was about to commence, he jiointed to
the enemy, and thus briefly an<l ]Mthily addressed his
soldiers: "Weel, lads, ye see tliese loons on the hill
there: if ye dinna kill them, tliey'll kill you."

When the battle of Dettingen took jiiace, which
occurred in 1743, where George II. commanded tlie
British troops in person. Sir Amirew Agnew hekl
the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and was appointed to
keep a pass at the outskirts of the British army,
through which an attack of the French was ajipre-
heniied. ( )n this post of danger the kniglit of
I.ochnaw stationed himself with his regiment of
.Scots Fusileers as coolly as if he hail been upon the
boundary of one of his own f\rms in Wigtonshire.
One day, while at dinner, he was informed that
there were symptoms of a coming attack — that the
enemy's cavalry were mustering at no great distance.
"The loons I" cried .Sir .\ndrew indignantly; "surely
they will never hae the impudence to attack the
Scots Fusileers!" and f)rthwith ordered his men to
finish their dinner quietly, assuring them that they
would fight all the better for it. He ccmtinued
eating and encouraging his officers to follow his
example, until the enemy were so nigh, that a
shiit struck from his hand a bone which he was in
the act of picking. "They are in earnest now !" he
cried, and drew up his men to receive the enemy,
who came on at full charge. They were a jxHtion
of the royal hnusehold troops, the |)icked and best-
disciplinc<l soldiers of France, mounted U]:)on heavy
and p')werful horses, and armed with cuirasses that
were buckled close to the saildie, so that the jioint
of a bavfinct could not easily fmd entrance vvitiiin
their steel panoply. .Sir .\ndrew, who knew that it
W.XS u>clc^s to abide such an avalanche of man and
horse, ordered his soldiers not to fiie until they saw
the whites of their enemy's eyes, to take aim only at
their hor>cs, and open their ranks as soon as a charge
was made ujion ihem. This skilful manonivre
succeeded as he had f )reseen — the French horses were
brought down in he.Ti)s, their riders easily bayonetted,
and the far-famed hou^ehoM troojjs were driven back
with heavy lo>.-;. After the battle, ( ieorge II. ob-
served, "Well, Sir .\ndrew, I hear that your regi-
ment was broken; that you let the Fn-ncli cavalry
in u]ion you." "N'es, ]>lea-e your majesty." replied
the gallant humouri-,!, "but they didna gang back
ag.aiii."

The most imjiortant military service, however, in
which .Sir .Vndrew .Xgnew was engaged, w.is the
defence of Blair ('a>tle against the troc)iis of ijie I're-
tender, during the insurrection of 1745 6. ( )n the
arrival of the Duke of ( 'umberland in I'erth, to take
the command of the royalist army, he found it
necessary to occui)y and garrison Blair Ca.^tle, the

seat of the Duke of Athol, then absent, for the
purpose of suppressing the disaffected of the district,
and cutting off the communications of the rebels by
the great roads between the southern and northern
parts of the country. For this service Sir Andrew
was selected, and despatched thither with a detach-
ment of three hundred soldiers. Not only was no
siege expected, but the place was ill fitted to sustain
one; for it was scantily supj^lied with provisiors,
and had no artillery or military stores, while the
soldiers had only nineteen rounds of ammunition per
man. Of all this the rebels seem to have been
apprised, and accordingly, on the morning of the
17th of March, 1746, Lord George Murray (the
Pretender's lieutenant-general). Lord Naime, Mac-
pherson of Clunie, and other Jacobite leaders, re-
solved to recover the castle, and open their com-
munications. They came, therefore, in great force,
captured the detached parties that were without the
castle, and suddenly aj^peared before the fort itself,
while such a visit was neither expected nor desired.
Most commanders in such a situation would have
abandoned the .""ort as untenable; but Sir Andrew
had not thus learned his military lessons under the
great Marlborough: he resolved to defend it to the
last, notwithstanding its impoverished condition, and
thus give time for the collection of those forces by
which the insurrection was soon after extinguished at
Culloden. He therefore issued strict orders to his
garrison, now reduced to 270 men, to save their
ammunition with the utmost care; and, as there
were no provisions in the castle but some bread and
cheese, he commanded these to be dealt out in small
daily rations.

As the obtaining of Blair Castle was of the
utmost importance to the rebels, Lord George
Murray, their ablest commander, commenced the
siege in due form. He began by a summons to
surrender; and knowing the old knight's fiery temper,
he wrote to him to this effect, not upon decent
foolscaj), but a ])iece of shabby gray paper. But
who was to enter the lion's den, and beard him with
such a missive? No Highlander could be found to
undertake the task, so that it was intru.sted to a
comely young servant maid of Blair Inn, who had
found favour in the eyes of Sir Andrew's young
officers while they resorted there, and who thought
that they would not allow her to be harmed. She
a])]iroached the garrison, taking care to avoid being
shot by waving the ])a]ier over her head like a flag
of truce. When she delivered her credentials, she
earnestly entreated the officers to surrender, assuring
them that the Highlanders were a thousand strong,
an<l would di>ii:; the castle about their ears; Init this
friendly warning they t)nly received with peals of
laughter, telling her that they would soon set these
Highlanders a scam]iering, and visit her at the inn
as before. No one, however, would deliver the
summons to .Sir .\ndrew, exce])t a timid lieutenant
of the company, whose nerves were further unstrung
by the use of strong waters; but no sooner did the
old knight hear the first sentence read, than he burst
forth into such a storm of wrath, and uttered such
fearful threats of shooting the next messenger through
the head who dared to jiropose a surrender, that the
lieutenant look to his heels, while Molly, who stood
at the bottom of the stairs, and heard the whole, fled
across tile fields like a startled hare. She told her
eni]>loyers, waiting in the churchyard (jf ISlair, the
roiilt of luT mission, who laughed heartily at the
rage of Sir .Amlrew. .Still further to jirovoke him,
and ])erha])s tempt him to a rash sally, they threw
large stones at the \\alls, accom])anie<l with biting
jokes at his ex[)ense; but fieiy though his temper

SIR ANDREW AGNEW

SAINT AIDAN.

23

was, and impatient of ridicule, he was too wary a
soldier to afford them such an advantage. In the
meantime, the more serious work of the siege went
on with vigour, and, though the walls of Blair Castle
were of great thickness, the assailants not only used
common, hut also hot shot, in the hope of setting the
building on fire. The wood, being luckily not very
combust ii)le, only smouldered as it received the balls.
Hut the chief confidence of the rebels was to star\-e
tlie garrison out, knowing how scantily it was sup-
plieil; and for this purpose they strictly blockaded
the place, while their best marksmen were ordered
to keep u]) a close fire wherever a man showed him-
self. This last incident suggested to the officers of
the castle a practical joke at the expense of their
commantler, whom they loved, feared, and laughed
at when they dared. They got one of his old
uniforms ; and having stuffed it with straw and
furnished the figure with a spy-glass, they placed it
at a small turret window, where it looked like no
other than Sir Andrew himself reconnoitring the
enemy below. The rifles q( the assailants were all
brought to bear upon it, and the best marksmen of
the Highlands continued to riddle this deceptive
wisp, until .Sir Andrew himself, wondering why this
point should have been selected for such a hot attack,
ascended the turret, and there he saw this other
identity standing under fire, as stiff, fearless, and
imperturbable as himself! He was in a towering
rage at the irreverent joke, and resolved that the
l)erpetrat()r should not escape a share of it. The
wag was ordered to go to this spot so full of risk,
and carry the pupjiet away, Sir Andrew gruffly pro-
nouncing this retributive sentence: "Let the loon
that set it up, just gang up himsel' and tak' it down
again."

Beyond all military calculation, Sir Andrew
.Vgnew, with miserably scanty means, had made
good his position from the 17th of March to the end
of the month. Longer than this, however, it was
impossible to hold out, as the provisions of the
garrison were exhausted, so that nothing seemed to
l)e left them but a desperate sally, or immediate
surrender. A faint chance indeed tliere might be
of some messenger stealing through the leaguer, and
carrying tidings of their condition to the Earl of
Crawford, who was then at Dunkeld with a strong
force of Hessians. This was now attempted, and
the gardener of Blair Castle undertook to be the
messenger. The gate was opened without noise; he
stole out unperceived, mounted a horse, and rode
cautiously down the avenue to the highway; but
immediately a firing and pursuit commenced, and,
on tlie following day, a Highlander was seen mounted
on the gardener's horse, so that the garrison thought
he must have been either killed or taken. On tlie
1st of .Xjiril, however, they were startled by an un-
expected mes>enger; this was no other than Molly
of the inn, formerly the envoy of the rebels, who
now came with the joyful intelligence that they had
broken up their encampment, and gone away to
D.ilnacardoch. Sir .\ndrew, who was not only
wary but short-sighted, would not tnist the news',
and abode a (Lay longer in his hunger-bitten hold,
when an officer arrived from the Earl of Crawford,
to say that his lordshi]i himself was on the road with
his cavalry, and would arrive within an hour. Such
was the case; for the gardener's horse, being alarmed
at the firing, had thrown him, and been capturetl by
the Iligldanders, so that he had made his journey to
Dunkeld on foot. Wlien Crawford arrived. Sir
Andrew drew up his soldiers to receive him, and
thus addressed the o.arl: •'My lord, I am verv glad
to see you; but, by all tliat's good, you have been

very dilatorj-; we can give you nothing to eat."
The earl laughed good humouredly, and invited Sir
Andrew and his officers to dine with him — an invita-
tion that was never more welcome, jK'rhaj.s, than at
the present crisis. The summer-house in the garden
was immediately turned into a dining-room, the table
was plentifully covered with substantial dishes and
excellent wines, and the lialf-starved and doomed
defenders of Blair Castle were translated, as if bv
magic, into the regions of safety, hilarity, and good
cheer.

After the siege was thus raised, .Sir Andrew
Agnew's gallant defence was not forgot. He and
his soldiers were publicly thanked by the Duke of
Cumberland, and soon afterwards he was promoted
to a colonelcy of marines. In 1747, in ccmsequence
of the abolition of the many old feudal offices in
Scotland, his hereditary sheriffdom of Wigtcjnshire
was among the number; but he received ^,^4000 as
a compensation from government. In 1750 he was
appointed governor of Tinmouth Castle, in room of
the Duke of Somerset. He died, with the rank of
lieutenant-general, in 1771, at the age of eighty-four,
and was succeeded by his fifth son, .Sir Stair Agnew,
who was bom October 9, 1734. His father, who at
that period was absent on foreign ser\'ice, found at
his return the infant nestled in the maternal bosom.
"What's this ye hae got, Nelly?" he asked, as this
was the first intelligence he had of the event.
"Another son to you, Sir Andrew," she answered.
"And what do you call this boy?" "I have called
him Stair, after the earl, your commander." "Stair,
Sir Stair," repeated the knight, whistling the sibilant
sounds through his teeth — "Sir .Stair, .Sir Deevil I
It disna clink weel, Nelly." The sounds, however,
were at last united, whether they clinked or not, for
the child, by the death of his elder brothers, ulti-
mately succeeded to the baronetcy of Lochnaw.

AIDAN, S.MNT, Bishop of Lindisfame in the
seventh century, was originally a monk in the island
of lona, and afterwards became a missionary in
England. The causes that brought Aidan to England
were the following: — Oswald having recovered the
kingdom of Northumbria from its pagan op]:)ressors,
by a signal and surprising victor}-, his piety attributed
this success to the aid of the tnie God, whom he had
invoked; and the first movement of his reign was to
arrest the growing heathenism of his people, and
recall them to the Christian faith. For this jmrpose
he applied, however, not to the Italian monks, as
his uncle had done, but to the Culdees of lona;
among whom he had been sheltered in his early
youth, during the disasters of his family, and by
whom he had been carefully educated. The mes>age
was gladly received liy the Culdee brethren, and
Corman, a learned monk of their order, was forth-
with sent to Northumbria. But the savage manners
of the people appalled him, their inability to compre-
hend his instnictions disgu>ted him, so that, despair-
ing of their conversion, he speedily relurne<l home.
While he was giving an account of his mission, and
describing the N'orthumbrians as a race ot imiM-acti-
cable savages, a voice of rebuke \\"as suddenly lio.ir 1
in the assembly: "Brother, it seems to nie iluit y^ur
want of success w.is owing to a \\ant <>t c<in'ie~>;i-;;-
sion to your hearers. \'ou sliould tir-t ha\e tc'i
them with milk, according to the apo-t'i'.ic rule,
until they were fitted to receive stronger f' '-:. -\d
eves were turned ujion the speaker, wiio wa- Avian.
It was unanimously .agreed by ihc a~-ciii: '.>' ti.at .'.e
was the fittest ju-r.-on to attempt the c -r.vcrsi' ■!! ot
the Northumbrians, aivi, on tlic c!'.ar:,'f "! c:ng pro-
posctl to him, he cordially agreed. He arrived in

24

S AIN'T AIDAN

England A.D. 634, and repaired to the court of king
Oswald. And now a missionary work commenced
in the Northumbrian kingdom such as missionary
annals can seldom parallel, for both king and monk
went hand in hand in the duty. Aidan, being a
Celt, was either wholly ignorant of the Saxon
language of his hearers or imperfectly acquainted
•with it; but, when he preached, Oswald was ready
to inteqiret his aildresses. The happiest results at-
tended these joint labours. The ancient idolatry
was utterly thrown aside, and Christianity established
over Deira and Hernicia. Still further to confirm
this change, Aidan prevailed upon the king to trans-
fer the episcopal see from York to Lindisfarnc, or
Holy Island, a bleak peninsula upon the coast of
Northumberland, which probably the Culdee pre-
ferred from its resemblance to his own beloved lona,
and here accordingly a monastery was erected,
which Aidan supplied with monks from his own
count r)-.

After the death of Oswald, who was slain in battle,
the kingdom of Northumbria was once more parted
into two sovereignties, those of Deira and Bernicia; in
the former of which Oswin was appointed king, and
in the latter Oswiu. It was, however, a peaceful
conjunction; and Aidan still continued, as before,
to preside over the church of Northumberland. The
character ol Oswin appears to have fully resembled
that of his amiable jiredecessor, and the Bishop of
I-indisfarne seems to have loved him with a still
higher atTcction than even that which he bore for
Oswald. Amidst the obscurity of that remote period,
and the shadowy character of its actors, Bede tells
us a touching stor\', in which the simple manners of
the times, as well as the intercourse between the
king and the bishop, are brought out in strong relief.
Oswin had once presented to Aidan a fine horse. It
hap]iened that one day, as the Culdee was riding
forth, he met a poor man who asked of him an alms,
and .\idan, having no money, bestowed on him the
horse and its rich trappings. The king on hearing
of this was displeased, and could not refrain from
expressing his resentment when Aidan next dined
with him. "Why were you so lavish of my favour,"
he said, "as to give away my jiad to a beggar? If
you must needs mount him on horseback, could you
not have given him one of less value? Or, if he
wanted any other relief, you might have supplied
him otherwise, and not have parted so easily with
my gift." "\'ou have not carefully considered this
matter," replied .\iilan, "for otherwise you could
not set a greater value on the son of a mare, than
on a son of (i-. i." In tliis way the affair ended f<;r
the present. .Not long after, when the king returned
fp.m hunting, he saw tlie bislio]!, and, remembering
what had lately occurred, lie laid a-ide his sword,
threw himself at llie g...)'! u\:u\\ feet, and asked
his forgiveness for the rude words he had uttered.
.•\idan. grieve<l to see the king in this jiosture, im-
mediately rai>e'l him, and declared that tlie whole
matter was forgot. .Xft^r this interview, however,
Aidan was observed to be very sad; and, on bein"
asked the cause by ^oine of his iiionk>, he' burst into
tears, ami replied. "How can I be (itlurwise than
afllicted? I f)resec that Oswin's life will be short,
for never have I beheld a jirinee so hunible. His
tem[H-r is too heavenly to dwell long among us, and,
truly, the nation does not deserve the blessing of such
a ruler." This mournful jireiiiction was soon after
accomplished by the death of ( )s\vin, who was assas.
sinated in .August, 651 : and ,\idan took the matter
s ) deeply to heart, tliat he died a fortnight after.

Such is the little that we know of .Saint Aidan,
the apostle of Northumberland and BishoiJ of Lindis-

WILLIAM AIRMAN.

fame. That he was great and good, and that he
accomplished much, is evident from the old chroni-
cles, and especially from the history of venerable
Bede, from whom the foregoing brief account has
been chiefly gathered.

AIRMAN, WiLLi.vM, a painter of considerable
merit of tiie last century, was bom in Aberdeen-
shire, October 24, 1682. His father was William
Aikman of Cairney, a man of eminence at the
Scottish bar, who educated his son to follow his own
profession. But a predilection for the fine arts, and
a love of poetr)', which gained him the friendship of
Ramsay and Thomson, induced the youth to give
up studying for the law, and turn his attention to
painting. Having prosecuted his studies in paint-
ing for a time at home under Sir John Medina, and
also in England, he resolved to visit Italy, that he
might complete his education as an artist, and form
his taste by an examination of the classic models of
antiquity; and accordingly, in 1707, having sold his
paternal estate near Arbroath, that he might leave
home untram.nelled, he went to Rome, where,
during a period of three years, he put himself under
the tuition of the best masters. He afterwards
visited Constantinople and Smyrna, where the
gentlemen of the English factory wished him to
engage in the Turkey trade; an overture which he
declined; and returning to Rome, he there renewed
his studies for a time. In 1712 he revisited his
native country, and commenced practising his pro-
fession; but though his works were admired by the
discerning few, he did not meet with adequate en-
couragement, the public being too poor at that time
to purchase elaborate works of art, and the taste for
such works being then too imperfectly formed. At
this period he formed an intimacy with Allan Ram-
say, whose portrait he afterwards painted. John,
Duke of Argyle, who equally admired the artist and
esteemed the man, regretting that such talents should
be lost, at length prevailed upon Aikman, in 1 723,
to move with all his family to London. There,
under the auspices of his distinguished friend, he as-
sociated with the most eminent British painters of
the age, particularly Sir Godfrey Kneller, whose
studies and dis]30sitions of mind were congenial
with his own. The duke also recommended him to
many people of the first rank, particularly the ICarl
of Burlington, so well known for his taste in archi-
tecture; and he was thus able to be of much service
to Thomson, who came to London soon after him-
self, as a literary adventurer. He introduced the
jxjet of T/w Seasons to the brilliant literary circle
of the day — Pope, Swift, Cay, Arbuthnot, cVc. — and,
what was perhaps of more immediate service, to Sir
Roljert Walpole, who aimed at being thought a friend
to men of genius. Among the more intimate friends
of Aikman was William Somervillc, author of 'J'/te
C/iasc, from whom he received an elegant tribute of
the muse, on his painting a full-length portrait of
the poet in the decline of life, carrying him back, by
the assistance of another jiortrait, to his youtliful
<lays. This ])oem was never published in any edition
of .Somerville's works. Aikman painted, for the Earl
of liurlington, a large ]ncture of the royal family of
Lngland; all the younger branches being in the
middle comiiartnient, on a very large canvas, and on
one hand a full-length portrait of f^)ueen Caroline;
the i)icture of ilie king (George H.)— that king who
ne\er could endure "boetry or bainting," as he
styled the Xwu arts in his broken English — intended
for the ojiposite side, was never finished, owing to
the death of the artist. This was perhaps the last
[licture brought towards a close by Aikman, and it

HEW AIXSLIE

WILLIAM AITON.

is allowed to have been in his best style; it came
into the ])ossession of the Duke of Devonshire by a
marriage alliance with the Burlington family. Some
of his earlier works are in the possession of the
Argyle and Hamilton families in Scotland; his more
mature and mellow productions are chiefly to be
found in England, and a large portion at Blickling,
in Norfolk, the seat of the Earl of Buckinghamshire;
these are chiefly portraits of noblemen, ladies, and
gentlemen, friends of the earl. lie died, June 4,
1 73 1, at his house in Leicester Fields, and, by his
own desire, his body was taken to Scotland for in-
terment; his only son, John (by his wife Marion
Lawson, daughter of Mr. Lawson of Cairnmuir, in
Peeblesshire), whose death immediately preceded his
own, was buried in the same grave with him, in the
Greyfriars' Churchyard, Edinburgh. A monument
was erected over the remains of Mr. Aikman, with
the following epitaph by Mallet, which has been
long since obliterated: —

" Dear to the good and wise, dispraised by none,
Here sleep in peace the father and the son.
Ky virtue as by nature close allied,
The painter's genius, but without the pride.
Worth unambitious, wit afraid to shine.
Honour's clear light, and friendship's warmth divine.
The son, fair-rising, knew too short a date;
But O how more severe the parent's fate!
He saw him torn untimely from his side.
Felt all a father's anguish — wept, and died."

In his Style of painting Aikman seems to have
aimed at imitating nature in her most simple forms;
his lights are soft, his shades mellow, and his colour-
ing mild and harmonious. His touch has neither
the force nor the harshness of Rubens; nor does he,
like Reynolds, adorn his jiortraits with the elegance
of adventitious graces. His compositions are dis-
tinguished by a placid tranquillity, rather than a
striking brilliancy of effect; and his portraits maybe
more readily mistaken for those of Kneller than for
the works of any other eminent artist.

AINSLIE, Hew. Tliis poet, whose songs in
the Scottish dialect have obtained considerable popu-
larity, was born April 5th, 1792, at Bargeny Mains,
in the parish, of Dailly, Ayrshire. He was first
educated by a private tutor at home, afterwards at
the parish school of Ballantrae, and finally at the
academy of Ayr. On leaving tlie academy, he
became assistant landscape ganlener on the estate
of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, a situation which
he afterwards exchanged at the age of sixteen for
that of a lawyer's clerk in Glasgow; but the confine-
ment of the office being injurious to his health, he
removed to Roslin, and subsequently obtained a
clerkship in the Register Office, Edinburgh.

Like most of the tuneful class. Hew Ainslie was
a poet from his early years, and had composed verses
before he left his native Carrick. The practice was
not neglected when his age was more matured, and
in consequence of a visit to Ayrshire in 1820, his
poetical ardour hurst forth into authorship under the
title of ,•/ r.'I^-rima^r to the Land of Burns. The
volume thus entitled was a duodecimo of 271 pages,
printeil at Deinford, "for the author," in 1S22, and
amidst jokes, stories, and descriptions connected
with the history of our gre.at Scottish bard, it was
more plentifully interspersed with Ainslie's own
poetry, which his narrative seems mainly intended
to introduce. This mixture of prose and verse
makes a very lively and readable book, and as such
the /V/^vv'w.j^v brougiu the author int(3 considerable
notice.

In the meantime .Mnslie had married, had f n;nd
the salary of his clerkshiii in the Rc;^;ster House

too small to maintain his family, and had moreover
discovered that he was not likely to be enriched by
cultivating poetry as a regular occupation. He
wisely therefore resolved to emigrate to the I'nited
States, where the field was open to industrious en-
terprise, and where his chances were better both for
health and pros|)erity. He accordingly arrived at
New York in 1822, purchased a farm,' and settled
on it for three years. Still haunted h<nvever by
the restless eccentricity and love of change that
characterizes poets, he joined the Socialists of New
Harmony, under their leader Robert Owen; but
after a year's experience he renounced the system,
and set up as a brewer first at Louisville, and after-
wards at New Albany. But his premises having
been destroyed by accident, he changed his occupa-
tion to that of the erection of mills and factories,
and finally settled in Jersey, a suburb of New York.
Thus far we have been enabled to trace the course
of Hew Ainslie in America, and until 1855, '"
which he published a volume of Scottish Son:^s,
Ballads, and Poems, at New York; but after this
period our information deserts us, so that we neither
know how he prospered in his old age, nor in what
year he died. That he had never ceased, hc)wever,
to cultivate poetry as his first love, or to remember
Scotland with a fdial devotedness, his last jiublica-
tion is a satisfactory proof. Their Scottish raciness
is as complete as if he still trode his native heather,
instead of having been a sojourner for more than
thirty years in America. Their merit also is so far
above mediocrity, that they will be remembered and
cherished in Scotland long after the history of their
author is forgot.

AITON, WiLLi.VM, an eminent horticulturist and
botanist, was born, in 1 73 1, at a village in the
neighbourhood of Hamilton. Having been regtdarly
bred to the profession of a gardener, as it was and
still is practised by numbers of his countr\men, with
a union of manual skill and scientific knowledge, he
removed to England in 1754, and, in the year fol-
lowing, obtained the notice of the celebrated Philip
Miller, then superintendent of the physic garden at
Chelsea, who employed him for some time as an
assistant. The instructions which he received from
that eminent gardener laid the foundation, it is said,
of his future fortune. His industry and abilities were
so conspicuous, that, in 1759, he was pointed out
to the rrincess-dowager of Wales as a fit person to
manage the botanical garden at Kew. His profes-
sional talents also procured him the notice of .^ir
Joseph Banks, and a friendship commenced w]ii(.!i
subsisted between them for life. Dr. Solander ai.d
Dr. Dryander were also among the number of b.is
friends. The encouragement of botanical studies
was a distinguished feature of the reign of GeC'igc
III., who, soon after his accession, determined i"
render Kew a repository of all the vegetable riclu-s
of the world. Specimens were accordin,,'!}' ] r^curcd
from every cpiarter of the glol.)e, ami jilaccd ur.ikr
the care of Mr. Aiton, who showed a -uri-ri-iii:;
degree of skill in their arrangemem. I mkr !i:-
superintendence a variety of inqn-ovenur.ts ti^^k
place in the ]")ian and edifices of Kcw t nU'lci;-. tiil
they attained an undoubted eminence over every I'Jier
botanical institution. In 17S3, on a vac.uxy recur-
ring in tiie superintendence of the jilea-ure-g.'.iiier.s r.t
Kew, Mr. Aiton received the aji; > ':i;;r..U'.i tn^m
George HI., but was, at the same time. | (.rniiiteil
to retain his more inqiortai.t ntncc. Il.s i.il'Murs
]iroved that the king's tavours were r.i ■: \'.\ be-towed;
l"'ir, in 17S0. he j ubr.shcd an el.ib ■::■.:<: descrip-
tion of the plants at Kew, under 'iic l.ik- II:rtus

26

ALEXANDER ALES ■

WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

A'^wi'Hsis, 3 vols. Svo, with a number of plates. In
this production Mr. Aiton gave an account of no
fewer than 5600 foreign plants, which had been intro-
duced from time to time into the English gardens;
and so highly was the work esteemed, that the whole
impression was sold within two years. A second
and improved edition was published by his son,
William Townseiul Aiton, in 1810. After a life of
singular activity and usefulness, ilistinguishcd more-
over by all the domestic virtues, Mr. Aiton died on
the 1st of Fel)niary, 1793. of a schirrus in the liver,
in the sixty-tinrd year of his age. lie lies burieil in
the churchyard at Kew, near the graves of his distin-
gui>he<l friends, ZolTany, Meyer, and (Gainsborough.
He was succeeded by his son, Mr. William Town-
send .Mton. who was no less esteemed by George
III. than his father hail been, and who for fifty
years ably superintendeil the botanical department
at Kew, besides taking charge of the e.xtensive
plexsure-groumls, and being employed in the im-
l)rovcment o{ the other royal gardens. In 1841 he
rctiretl from office, when .Sir William J. Hooker
was api^ointetl director of the botanic gardens. Mr.
Aiton died at Kew in 1S49, aged eighty- four.

ALES, or ALESSE, Ale.xanpf.r, a celebrated
the'>logian of the sixteenth century, was born at
Edinburgh, April 23, 15CXJ. He is first found in the
situation of a canon in the cathedral of St. Andrews,
where he di>tinguished himself by entering into the
prevalent controversy of the day against Luther.
His zeal for the Roman Catliolic religion was stag-
gered by the martyrdom of Patrick Hamilton; but
it i> not iimhalile that his doubts would have been
carried further, if he had not suffered persecution for
the slight degree of scepticism already manifested.
iJeing obliged to lice from St. Andrews, he retired
to (jerniany, where he became a thorough convert
to the rrotestant doctrines. The reformation in
England induced .Ales to go to London, in 1535,
where he was highly esteemed by Cianmer, Latimer,
.and Crmnwell, wIkj were at that time in favour
with the king. Henry regarded him als(j with
fav(nir. and use<l to call him "'his scholar."' Upon
the fall of Croinweli, he was oljjiged to return to
(Jermany. where the I'lector (jf lirandeninirg ap-
pointed him professor of divinity at l''rankfort-u])on-
the-Oder, in 1540. As a reformer Ales did not
always maintain tiie most ortiiodox doctrines; hence
he was ohhgcd, in 1542, to tlee from his chair at
l-'rankfort, and betake himself to Leipsic. He s]5ent
the remainder of hi^ life in that city, as iirofessor of
divinity, and clied in 1565. His works are:— I.
Dc- .Wrfisitiitf it Mcntt.^ Iioiii<ritm Opcrtim, Dispiitalio
J'r^>/\>jitii ni Ci!il>ri Anidcinui lyipsicij. ad 2() A ('7'.
15S0. 2. C'jinmrnl.ini iii l:i\ui.-diu»i Jotuiuis, ct in
!ttriiini/:ic- /-.//-A'A/w ./(/ 'fniuitlhum. 3. l-.xf'ositio in
/';,:/w<'j D.r.id:!. 4. Dc Jn lifnatioii,; loiilra Os-
cjudrum ^. Pi- San, la Trniitat,; mm Con/iita/ioii,'
Error ii I'.ii, tifiiii. (1. J\,:poinu> ad Iri-iii/a d duo;
Artiiulo! 'J'hoolo-orutn J.cTaiiiinsiiiiii. The fifth in
this I:-.t is the mo^t favourable sjieciinen of his
al).litie^.

ALEXANDER, Wii.i.iam, an eminent noble.
man, st:U'>ni.'in, n-id ]ioet of the reign of |ame^ \'l.
and riiarle-. I. The original rank of thi> ]ur-onnge
was that of a small landed proprietor or laivd; but lie
was elevated, by dint of hi^ various accoiniilisjirneiit-,
and through the favour of the two sovereiL'ii^ al)ove-
mentioned, to the rank of an eaii. His fainilv,
which pf)s^cssed the small estate of Meiistrie, near
Stirling, is said to have derivecl the name Alexander
from tlie prenomen oi their ancestor, Alexander

Macdonald, a Highlander who had been settled in
this property by the Ivarl of Argyle, whose resi-
lience of Castle Campbell is in the neighbourhood.
William Alexander is supposed to have first seen the
light in 15S0. He received from his friends the best
education which the time and place could afford, and
at a very early age he accompanied the young Earl
of Argyle u])on his foreign travels, in the capacity
of tutor. Previous to this period, when only fifteen
years of age, he had been smitten with the charms
of some country beauty, "the cynosure of neighbour-
ing eyes;" on his return from the Continent he wrote
no fewer than a hundred sonnets, as a ventilation to
the fervours of his breast; but all his poetry was
in vain, so far as the lady was concerned. She
thought of matrimony, while he thought of love, and
accordingly, on being solicited by a more aged
suitor, in other respects eligible, she did not scniple
to accept his hand. The poet took a more sensible
way of consoling himself for this disappointment
than might have been expected; he married another
lady, the daughter and heiress of Sir William Erskine.
His century of sonnets was published in London in
1604, under the title of Aurora, cotitaifiifig the
First Fancies of the Author's Youth, by W. Alex-
ander, of Menstrie. He had early been introduced
to royal notice; and when James removed to London,
in 1603, the poet did not remain long behind, but
soon became a dependant upon the English court.
In this situation, however, he did not, like most
court poets of that age, ernploy his pen in the adula-
tion of majesty; his works breathe a very different
strain: he descanted on the vanity of grandeur, the
value of truth, the abuse of power, and the burden
of riches; and his moralizings assumed the strange
shape of tragedies — compositions not at all designed
for the stage, but intended to embody his sentiments
u]ion such subjects as those we have mentioned.
His first tragedy was grounded upon the story of
Darius, and ajipeared at Edinburgh in 1603. He
afterwards republished it at London, in 1607, along
with similar compositions upon the stories of Alex-
ander, Croesus, and Ca'sar, under the title of ]\Io7i-
archick 7'ragcdies, by William Alexander, gentleman
of the Princes' Privy Chamber. It woukl thus ap-
])ear that he had now obtained a jilace in the house-
liold of Prince Henry; to whom he had previously
addressed a poem or para'iiesis, designed to show
how the happiness of a sovereign depends upon his
choice of worthy councillors. This poem, of which
no copy of the original edition is known to exist,
except one in the university library at Edinburgh,
was, after the death of Henry, addressed to Prince
Charles, who then became heir-ai)parent; an economy
in poetical, not to speak of court business which
cannot be sufficiently admired. He was, in 1613,
a])pointed one of the gentlemen ushers of the
presence to this unfortunate prince.

King James is said to have been a warm admirer
of the poems of Alexander, to have honoured him
with his conversation, and called him "my ])hilo-
soijliical jioet." He was now aspiring to the still
more honourable character of a divine poet, for
ill 1614, appeared at lulinburgh his largest and
]ierha])s his most meritorious ])roduction, entitled
Doomsday, or the Great Day of jud^inent, which has
been several times reprinted.

Hithert(j the career of Alexander had been chiefly
that of a ])oet: it was henceforth entirely that of a
courtier. In 1614 he was knighted by King James,
ami ap])ointed to the situation of master of recpiests.
In 1621 the king gave him a grant by his royal deed
of tile ])rovince of Nova .Scotia, which as yet had
not been colonized. Alexander designed at first to

WILLIAM ALEXANDER.

27

establish settlers upon this new country, and as an
inducement to the jjurchase of land, it was proposed
that the king should confer upon all who paid a
hundred and fifty pounds for 6000 acres the honour
of a kniglu baronetcy. Owing to the perplexed
l)olitics of the last years of King James, he did not
get this scheme carried into effect, but Charles had
no sooner acceded than he resolved upon giving
it his sujiport. Alexander, in 1625, published a
pampldet, entitled An Encoura:^c?ni:nt to Colonics,
the object of which was to state the progress already
made, to recommend the scheme to the nation, and
to invite adventurers. It is also supposed tliat he
ha'l a hand in A Brief Kclation of the Discoz'ery and
Plantation of Xe'M EnglanJ, and of sundry accidents
therein occurring from the year 1607 to this present
1622: together with the state thereof as it now stand-
eth, the general form of Government intended, and
the division of the whole territory into Counties, Bar-
onies, Sec. King Charles, who probably considered
the scheme in a twofold light, as a means of establish-
ing a new colony, and of remunerating an old
servant at the expense of others, conferred upon Sir
William .-Mexander the rank of Lieutenant of 'Sew
Scotland, and founded the necessary order of knights
baronets of the same territory. The numl^cr of
these baronets was not to exceed a hundred and
fifty, and it was ordained that the title should be
hereditary — that they should take precedence of
all ordinary kniglits and lairds, and of all other
gentlemen, except .Sir William Alexander, and
that they should have place in all his majesty's and
his successors' armies, near and about the royal
standard for the defence thereof, with other honour-
able distinctions of precedency, to them, their wives,
and heirs. The ceremony of infeftment or seasine
was decreed to take place on the Castle-hill of Edin-
burgh, the earth and stone of which were held, by
a fiction, to represent the component particles of
certain baronies and lordships on the other side of
the Atlantic. But the Nova Scotian scheme, what-
ever might have been originally contemplated, de-
generated at last into a mere means of raising money
by the sale of titles; a system too much practised in
the English reign of James VI., and which gained,
as it deserved, the contempt of all honourable minds.
The territory of Xova Scotia afterwards fell into the
hands of the French, who affected to believe that
they had acquired a right to it liy a treaty entered
into with the king of Great Britain, in 1632, in
which the country of Acadia was ceded to them. In
the treaty of peace transacted between the two
countries, in 1763, it was successfully asserted by
the Briti-,h g(jvernment that Xova .Scotia was
tinally distinct from .Vcadia, and accordingly the
territory reverted to Britain, along with Canada.
The country, however, having become the propertv
of otlier individu.als during the usurpation of the
French, it ajipears that the Xova Scotia baronets
have very >li-ht prospects of ever regaining the lands
to which iliL'ir titles were originally attached.

In 162O Sir William .VIex.ander w.as, by the favour
of Charle> I., made secret.ary of state for Scotland,
a:i oftice to which the salary of ;^iOO a year, being
tiiat of a g.>o(l mercantile clerk in the present day,
was then .lUached. In 1630, by the further favour
of his s()verci:,'n, he was raided to the peerage under
the title of \'iscount Stirling; and in 1633, at the
coronation of King diaries in Holyrood Cha]-iel, he
was promoted to the rank of an earl under the same
title. He held the office of secretary during fifteen
years, and gained the credit of being a moderate
statesman in the mid.-t of many violent political
scenes. It duos not appear, however, that he was a

popular character. Such esteem as he might have
gained by his poetry seems to have lx;en lost in con-
sequence of his arts to become rich. .\ jx*rmission
which he acquired, probably in his character of lieu-
tenant of Xovia .Scotia, to coin base money, W-came
a grievance to the community, and procured him
much obloquy. He had erected a splendid mansion
at Stirling out of his ill-acquired gains, and affixed
upon its front his annorial bearings, with the motto
"Per mare, per terras." This was panKlied, as we
are informed, by the sarcastic Scott of .Scotstar\et,
into "Per metre, per turners," in allusion to the
sources of his wealth, the peoj)le believing that the
royal favour had a reference to his lordship's poetr)-,
while turners, or black fart/tini^s, as they were other-
wise called, had been one of the shapes in which this
favour was expressed. The house still remains a
monument of the taste of the poet.

The Earl of .Stirling in 1637 jniblished a complete
edition of his poetical works, under the general title
of Recreations with the A/nses. The work contained
his four "Monarchick Tragedies," his "Doomsday,"
the "Para;nesis to Prince Henr}-," and "Jonathan,
an Heroick Poem Intended, the first book," the
whole revised and very much imjiroved by the
author. He died in 1640, leaving three sons and
two daughters, whose posterity was supposed to
have been completely extinct, till a claimant appeared
in 1830, as descended from one of the younger
branches of the family, and who assumed the titles
of .Stirling and Devon. Considered as a ]ioet,
.■\lexander is entitled to considerable praise. "Ilis
style is certainly neither pure nor correct, which may
perhaps be attributed to his long familiarity with the
Scottish language; but his versification is in general
much superior to that of his contemporaries, and
approaches nearer to the elegance of modern times
than could have been expected from one who wrote
so much. There are innumerable beauties scattered
over the whole of his works, but particularly in his
songs and sonnets; the former are a species of
irregular odes, in which the sentiment, occasionally
partaking of the quaintness of his age, is more
frequently new and forcibly expressed. The powers
of mind displayed in his 'Doomsday' and 'Para-nesis'
are very considerable, although we are frequently
able to trace the allusions and imager.- to the language
of holy writ; and he appears to have l)een less in-
spired by the sublimity than by the awful importance
of his subject to rational beings. A habit of moral-
izing pervades all his writings; but in the 'Doomsday'
he appears deeply impressed with his sul)ject, and
more anxious to persuade the heart than to de-
light the imagination.'' — Johnson and Chalmers'
En:::lish Poets, edit. iSio, vol. v.

The Earl of Stirling was employed in his latter
years in the task of revising the version of the
Psalms jirejiared by King James, \\liich (Uity w as im-
posed upon him by the royal iiaraphra>t liimsclf. In
a letter to his friend Dnimmond of Hawthorr.uen,
28th of .April, 1620, Alexander says, '•Bn.tlKr.
I received your last letter, with the ]i>ahn vdu >cnt,
which I think verv- well done: I had done tb.c -r.n-.c
long before it came; but he [King Janus] prefer- !.i-
own to all else; though, perchance when ymi -ee :!,
you will think it //.v r.vr.V of ti:e ti.roo. X'> irnn
must meddle with that suliject, and tl'.er^N-ye I
a<lvise you to take no more pain> there'.n.. In
consideration of the j^ains wliich the e.irl l;.-.d
bestowed ujion this subject, Ch.ir'.e- I.. < n ihe
28th of December, 1627. grante^I a lic'. :>e i > b;-
lord--hip to print the late ki!iL;'> \e:-;tK' ■ t 'f.o
Psalms CNchi~ive!y fir thiriy-di^e )''.ir~. I he t:r-t
edition a; reared 'at Oxf-'il in 1031. Ti.e kirg

2S

ALEXANDER I.

ALEXANDER IIL

endeavoured to enforce the use of his father's
version alone throughout his dominions; and, if lie
had been successful, the privilege would have been
a source of immense proht to the Earl of Stirling.
l?ut the royal wishes were resisted by the Scottish
church, and were not ver)' respectfully obeyed any-
where else; and the breaking out of the civil war
soon after rendered the privilege entirely useless.'

ALEXANDER I., sumamed J,rr or the /vmv,
King of Scots from i io6 to 1 124, was the fifth son of
>Lircolm IIL by his wife .Margaret of England.
Lord Hailes conjectures that his name was bestowed
in honour of Pope Alexander II.; a circumstance
worthy of attention, as it was the means of introduc-
ing the most common ami familiar Christian name
in Scotland. The date of .Alexander's birth is not
known; but as his four elder brothers were all
under age in 1093, at the death of their father, he
must have been in the bloom of life at his accession
to the throne. He succeeded his brother Edgar,
Januar)' 8, 1106-7, ^^^^ immediately after married
Sybilla, the natural daughter of Henry I. of England,
who h.id married his sister Matilda or Maud. Such
an alliance was not then considered dishonourable.
Alexander was active in enforcing obedience to his
rale, and in suppressing the i)ands of rebels or
robbers with which the northern parts of the king-
dom were infested; but the chief events of his reign
relate to the efforts made by the English church to
assert a sui)remacy over that of Scotland. These
efforts were resisted by the King of Scots with steady
perseverance and ultimate success, although the ]iope
countenanced the claims of the English prelates.
It is to be presumed that this spirit would have in-
cited the Scottish monarch to maintain the indejiend-
ency of his kingdom had it ever been called in
question during his reign. Alexander died, April 27,
1124. after a reign of seventeen years and three
months. As he left no is--ue, he was succeeiled Iiy
Ills next and last surviving brother David, so memor-
able for his bounty to the church. Alexander was
also a jiious monarch. AMred, in his genealogy of
the English kings, says of him that "he was humble
and courteous to the clergy, but, to the rest of his
subjects, terrible beyond measure; high-spirited,
always emleavouring to compass tilings beyond his
power; not ignorant of letters; zealous in establishing
churches, ollecting relics, and jiroviding vestments
and b'ciks for the clergy; liberal even to ]-)rofusion,
and taking delight in the offices of charity to the
poor." His donations to tlie church were very con-
siderable. He made a large grant of lands to the
church of St. .Andrews, increased tlie revenue of the
monastery of Dunfermline which his ])arents had
f nm'led, est.iblislied a colony of canons regular at
home, and built a monastery on Lulicolm in the
Firth of Forth, in gratitude fir having been jue-
served from a tempest on that isl.\nd.

ALEXANDER IL. the only legitimate son of
King William, surnamed the /.i>ii, was born in
H9H. He succeeded his father, I )ecember 4. 1214.
in his seventeenth year, and was crowneii next day at
Scone. Alexander H. is characteri/ed by I'ordun as
a i>ious, just, and brave king -as the shield of the
church, the safeguard of the peoj.le, and the friend
of the miserable. He espoused the cause of the
English barons against King John, whidi led to
mutual depredations between the two sovereigns; l)ut

' Vhr- cori.<ic of th-! K.irl of SlirlinK w;is licposit'ifl in :i Ifj.itlcn
coffin in the family aisle in the chiir. li of Stirling;. al«vL-
gr.un'l. an'l rcm.iincri entire fir up'.v ir-Ji of a huiidrcl ycir^.
— I'nrasrapk Jrom an oLl ncwsp^ip^r.

on the accession of Henry HL to the crown of
England, peace was restored; and in 1221 the
friendly intercourse of the two nations was estab-
lished by the marriage of the King of Scotland to
Joan, eldest sister of the King of England. This
princess died in 1238 without issue; and in the
following year Alexander married Mary de Couci,
the scion of a French house, which, in its motto,
disclaimed royally, and rested for distinction on its
own merits:

Je suis ni roi, ni prince aussi —
Je suis le seigneur de Couci.

During the life of Joan the British monarchs came
to no open rupture, their friendly intimacy being
only occasionally interrupted by Henry discovering
a disposition to revive the claim of homage from the
King of Scotland, which had been given up by
Richard L, and by Alexander insisting on his claim
to the three northern counties of England; but
shortly after the death of Joan national jealousies
broke out, and in 1244 both princes raised armies
and prepared fo.' war. By the mediation, however,
of several English barons, hostilities were prevented,
and a peace concluded. Much of Alexander's reign
was occupied in suppressing insurrections of the
Celtic inhabitants of Scotland. He died, A.D. 1249,
in one of the islands of the Hebrides while engaged
in subjecting Angus, the Lord of Argyle, who re-
fused his homage to the Scottish sovereign. He
left by his second wife one son, who is the subject
of the following article.

ALEXAISTDER III., born at Roxburgh, Sep-
tember 4, 1241, succeeded his father in the eighth
year of his age. He was knighted and crowned
only five days after his father's death — a precipita-
tion adopted to prevent the interference of the King
of England. AVhen only a year old Alexander had
been betrothed to Margaret, eldest daughter of
Henry IIL, a princess of his own age; and in 1251
their nuptials were celebrated at York with great
pomp. On the ground of this union Henry inter-
ested himself in the afifairs of Scotland, and the young
prince was a frequent visitor at the court of his father-
in-law. The English monarch, taking advantage of
Alexander's youth and other circumstances, endea-
voured to prevail upon him to do homage for his
crown and kingdom of Scotland; Init the young
king, with a fortitude and prudence beyond his
years, and which gave promise of his future decision,
resisted the demand, saying that he could not treat
of affairs f)f state without the advice of his ])arlia-
ment. During Alexander's minority the country was
divided into factions, and various struggles for ascend-
ancy took j^lace; but the administration was latterly
committed to fifteen of the leading chiefs or barons.
Alexander had reached the twenty-second year of his
age when his kingdom was invaded by one of the
most formidable armaments that had ever sailed from
Norway. I laco, king of that country, with a fleet of
one hundred and sixty ships, freighted with many
thousand northern warriors, who carried terror to
almost all the shin-es of Europe, sailed towards
Scotland in the summer of 1263, and after making
himself master of the Islands of Arran and Bute,
arrived in the Bay of Largs, near the mouth of the
Clyde, and endeavoured to effect a landing. Here
a Scottish army, under Alexander, assembled to re-
sist the invasion; and here, on the 2d of (J)ctober,
after a furee and bloody contest, the Norwegians
were re]iulsed with great loss. A storm arising com-
jileted the dissijiation or destruction of their fleet.
Ilaco escaped with difficulty through the strait

ARCHIBALD ALISON.

29

between Skye and the mainland, since called Kyle
Hacken, and reaching the Orkneys, died there, as
is said, of a broken heart. By this defeat all the
islands of the western sea, including that of Man,
but excepting those of Orkney and Shetland, sub-
mitted to Alexander.

From this period to the death of Alexander, Scot-
land enjoyed tranquillity, only disturbed by the pre-
tensions of the pope and the encroachments of the
clergy, both of which Alexander was successful in
resisting. Religious crusades were at this time the
rage over Europe, and Scotland did not escape the
infection, as many of her bravest barons perished in
Palestine. In 1274 Alexander attended the corona-
tion of his brother-in-law, Edward I., at West-
minster, and after the custom of the times did
homage for the lands which he held of him in
England. Six months after this, Margaret, (^ueen
of Scotland, died, leaving one daughter and two
sons— Margaret, Alexander, and David. David
died unmarried in 128 1. NIargaret was married in
1282 to Eric, King of Norway, and died in the
following year, after giving birth to an infant
daughter, who received her own name. Alexander
was married in 1283 to the daughter of Guy, Plarl of
Flanders, who died in the following year without
issue. Thus, in the course of a few years, was the
unhappy King of .Scotland deprived of his wife and
all his children — the only remaining descendant of his
body being the Maiden of Nor\vay, as she is called
in Scottish history — an infant grandchild residing in
a foreign land. In 1285 .-Mexander, to provide
against the evils of a disputed succession, at the
request of his nobility, married Joletta, daughter of
the Count de Dreux; but shortly after his marriage,
in riding along a precipitous road, between Burnt-
island and Kinghorn, his horse fell over a rock, and
the unfortunate monarch was killed. This event
took place on the i6th of March, 1286, in the forty-
fifth year of his age, and thirty-seventh of his reign.

With Alexander III. terminated a race of kings,
who, from the accession of Malcolm Cean-Mohr or
Canmore, had distinguished themselves by their ac-
tivity in the administration of justice, and their courage
in maintaining the rights and independence of their
country against a powerful, and too often an insidious,
foe. Few annals of a rude people, indeed, can present
a more remarkable series of patriotic monarclis than
those with whom Scotland was blessed from the
middle of the eleventh to the close of the thirteenth
centur\-, whether we consider their wisdom and im-
partiality as legislators, their prudence as politicians,
or their bravery as warriors; for Malcolm the
Maiden, and the terms upon which William the
Lion effected his release from captivity, must only be
considered as exceptions to tlie general excellence
of their conduct. But with the death of Alexander
III. the peace and prosperity of the country was
broken up; and much as he was lamented by the
people, and gloomy as were their forel)odings on his
decease, no anticipation could exceed the real calami-
ties in which the country was involved by his unhappy
and untimely end.

ALISON. Rkv. .\RCi1n5.\1.n, M..\.. I.L.B. This
distinguished writer on "Taste," was born in Edin-
burgh, .\.n. 1757, and was the son of Mr. Andrew
AliM)n, one of the m.igistrates of that citv. When
he had completed the Usual course of an elementar)-
classical education, he w.-is sent, at the age of fifteen,
to tlie university of dlasgow, where, after the usual
curriculum of Latin, Creek, and Logic, he attended
the lectures of Professor Reid, at tliat time in high
met.iphysical reputation, and fonneJ an intiniacv

with Dugald Stewart, which continued to the end
of his life. Having been so fortunate as to obtain
one of those exhibitions to Baliol College of which
the university of Glasgow possesses the patronage,
Archibald Alison removed to Oxford, where he
completed his course of study, and took the degree
of A.M., and afterwards of LL.B. In 1784 he
also took orders, and married the eldest daughter <T
the celebrated Dr. John Gregory of Ediidnirgh.
His first appointment in the church was to the curacy
of Brancepath, in the county of Durham. After
this, he was appointed to the chapelrj- of Kenley in
Shropshire in 1790, and to the vicarage of Ercall in
the same county in 1794, by the Earl of Darlington,
to whom the patronage of both livings belonged;
and in 1797 he was presented to Roddington by the
lord-chancellor. In 1791 also, the small prebend
of Yatminster Secunda, in the cathedral of Saiisbun*-,
was conferred upon him by Bishop Douglas, .^o
many pluralities have an Imposing appearance; but
their aggregate revenue amounted to nothing more
than ;^8oo per annum. Circumstances soon led to
Alison's removal to his native city, having been in-
vited by Sir William Forbes and the vestry of the
Episcopal chapel in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, to
become senior minister of that charge. I le removed
to Edinburgh in 1800, and continued to preach in
the Cowgate, until the congregation removed from
that murky locality to the handsome chapel of .'^t.
Paul's, in York Place. In 1831 .-Mison, now an
old man, and subject to severe attacks of pectoral
disease, was obliged to desist from his public
labours, and confine himself to the private society
of his friends, in which the evening of his days was
tranquil and happy. The high reputation whieh he
had attained both as a preacher and writer, and h!s
amiable personal qualities, endeared him to the most
distinguished literary characters for which Edinburgh
was now at the height of its fame; and he was in
constant intercourse, among others, with Dugald
Stewart, Dr. Gregory, Lord Woodhouselee, Pro-
fessor Playfair, Dr. Thomas Brown, Sir James Hall,
and Thomas Campbell. Besides these, he had been
in familiar acquaintanceship with the illustrious of
the end of the last centuiy, such as L)r. Adam
Smith, Dr. Adam Ferguson, Dr. Robertson, and Dr.
Blair. He \\as indeed the literary Nestor of the
day, who chronicled the remembrances of the great
and good of a past generation for the instniction ci
their successors. Another congenial spirit, thouj^h
in a different walk of intellect, whose society he
especially valued, was Mr. Telford, the celebrated
engineer; and it was pleasing to witness the zc.l
of the veneral;le pair, while Telfortl unfolded Iiis
scientific j^lans for the improvement of their nnti\e
.'^cotland and its fair capital. The death of .Xrthi-
bald Alison occurred in 1839, at the age of eiL^lity-
two. By his wife, who died in 1S30, he had s!x
children, of whom three survived him, and oi-,e "I
them, Sir Archil)al<l .Alison, is kr.nwn to most of m'.r
readers as the autlior of the Il.sicry cf Ii.urc^c j'j\rn
tJw Frcjuh RcvolKtioi.

Of the Rev. Archibald Alison's life .-1? an .'.r.th. r
it is now necessary to sjx-ak. His 7:s:<!_'s i 'V .'-.i'
Xalinr and J^rinci/hs of 'J'tistc, the work I'V \vli cli
he is best known, was publislied s.t early as i7',o.
l)ut attracted little notice. Not di>coura,-eii 1 } tie
cold reception of a suliiect which had 1. rnicd ;!.■.,■
chief study of his !i(V. Alis-n. after he \\:A hetr f r
some years settled in lM;riiur.;!i, rti i::.i -h.td li:s
Essays \s\\\\ consideral ^le addit'ici.s in iSll. He
had nciw ^^. in f.ir hinv-elf a more iavcv.raMe c..~'-s 1 t
readers; and he was su fnrtr.nate .is :■> t::M a ei:l' '_;.-t
iu Francis Jc!'frey. then the Ar;^:.;rd:u. of ciit.cs.

3°

DAVID ALLAN.

and through the Edinburi^h Rcvi\~v, at that time the
paramount oracle of the literar}' world. A very
]X)\verrul and beautiful article forthwith appeared in
that periodical upon the lontj-neglecled work; and
the consLMjuence w.is that the JCssitys immediately
took their place as the stantlard of the Xiitutr aiui
Principlis of TasU. The jiresent generation can
well remember how their boyhooil and youth were
familiarized with it, and how the pulpit and the
press did hom.ige to its authority. liut time has
sobered down thisenlhu>iasm, anil Alison is reckoned
neither to liave invented a new theory (for its lead-
ing idea ha'.l l)een distinctly announced by David
Hume); nor to have sifted it with the most philoso-
phical analysis, or expressed it in the happiest
language. But who shall arrest our fleeting emotions
produced by the sublime and the beautiful, and
reiluce them to such a fixctl standard as all shall
recognize? Longinus, Hiirke, Schlegel, and Alison
have all successively passed away, while the science
of a-sthetics is still accumulating its materials for
future theirists and fresh legislation. The theory
of taste, like that of tiie weather or the tides, is still
the subiect of hypothesis and conjecture. Besides
his principal work of /ijsiiys oit Y'dsU, which has
gone through many editions, both in Britain and
Americ.i, as well as bi.'en translated into French,
Mr. .Mi^on publiNhed two volumes of sermons,
which have aKo been several times republished; and
a "Memoir of Lord Woodhouslee," inserted in the
TraitSiictwns of the Kdinbur:;h Koyal Society, i8l8.
The character of Alison, which is thus given by his
son, was borne out through a long and well-spent
life: — "No m.an who held firm and uncompromising
opinions on the principles of religion and morals,
lo(jked with more indulgence (jn the failings of
other-i, or p.assed through the world in more ]5erfect
charity and good-will to all men. No man who
had lived much in society, could retire with more
sincere pk-a^ure at all periods of his life into domestic
privacy, and into the >olitude of the country. . . .
No man who had attained a higii reputation as a
preacher or an author, was ever more absolutely in-
different to p!>pular a])])lause, as compared with the
con^.ci<)Uine^3 of the performance of duty."

ALLAN, David, a painter of great merit, was
b>rn at .\llo.i, February Ijtii, 1744. lie v.as
the s^)n of Mr. David .v'llaii, >liore-master at that
small port. The mother of .Mian, who>e maiden
name wa-, (iullan, brought him prematurely into
the world, and died a tew days after his birth.' The
young ]jainter had so small a mouth that no innse
could be fiuni in tiie place fitted to give him suck:
at length, nne being heard of, wlm lived at the dis-
tance i.f "-une mile-, he wa. ]i:uked uji in a lia.ket
amidst CMttori. aii<l -ent o!f under the charge of a
man who tarried him on horseback, the journey
being rendered additionally dangemu. by a deep
s;i')W. Tlie hor>e ha]i]iened to slund)le,' the man
fell off. and the tiny b.ilvj wa. ej<-cted from the
basket into the snow, receiving as lie fell a severe
cait u[>on his head. Such were tlie cireuinsianecs
under wh;cli Mr. J)avid Allan 1. onmieiued existence.
Lven after h.iving experienced tiie tender cires (,f
his nurse, mi^firtune continued to harass him. In
the autumn of 1745, wlien he inu-t have been about
eighteen months old, a battery was ereeted at .Mloa,
to defend the jiass.ige of the ionh against the arinv
of I'rincc Ldiarles. While the men were tiring the
cannon f)r experinieiit, the maid intrusted with the
charge of young .Mian ran across the o]K;n s]iace in
fr mt. at the moment when they were dischar'cd,
and he only escaped death by a ha:r-breadth.

His genius for designing was first developed by
accident. 15eing conhned at home with a burned
foot, his father one day said to him, "You idle little
rogue, you are kejit from school doing nothing!
conie, here is a bit of chalk, draw something with it
u])on the floor." He took the chalk, and began to
delineate figures of houses, animals, and other fami-
liar objects; in all of which he succeeded so well
that the chalk was seldom afterwards out of his hand.
When he was about ten years of age, his pedagogue
happeneil to e.xercise his authority over some of
the boys in a rather ludicrous manner: Allan im-
mediately drew a caricature of the transaction upon
a slate, and handed it about for the amusement of
his companions. The master of the ferule, an old
vain conceited person, who used to strut about the
school dressed in a tartan night-cap and long tartan
gown, got hold of the picture, and right soon de-
tected that he himself was the most conspicuous and
the most ridiculous figure. The satire was so keen,
and the laugh which it excited sunk so deep, that
the object of it was not satisfied till he had made a
complaint to old Allan, and had the boy taken from
his school. When cpiestioned by his father how he
had the effrontery to insult his master, by represent-
ing him so ridiculously on his slate, his answer was,
"1 only made it like him, and it was all for fun !"

The father observed the decided genius of his son,
and had the good sense to offer it no resistance. At
this tiirie the establishment of the Messrs. I'^oulis' aca-
demy of arts at Glasgow was making some noise in
the countiy. Allan, therefore, resolved to appren-
tice his son to those gentlemen upon the terms given
out in their prospectus of the institution. On the
25th of February, 1755, when exactly eleven years
of age, the young draughtsman was bound appren-
tice to the ]\Iessrs. Foulis for seven years, to attend
their painting academy in the university of Glasgow.
In Newhall House there is a sketch in oil, done by
him, representing the inside of the academy, with an
exact portrait of Robert Foulis in the act of criticiz-
ing a large picture, and giving instructions to his
l^rincipal painter about it.

In the year 1764 some of his performances at-
tracted the notice of Lord Cathcart, whose seat,
Shaw Park, was situated in Clackmannanshire near
Allt)a. Lady Cathcart introduced him to the notice
of Lady I'' ranees Lrskine, daughter of the insurgent
l'!arl of Mar, and mother of the gentleman to whom
the ]ieerage was restored in 1824; as also to I.ad_\-
Charlotte Lrskine, to Mrs. Al;ercroml)y of Tulli-
body, mother of Sir Ralph; and to some other person-
ages of distinction in the neighbourhood of his birth-
jilace. By the associated jnirses of these kiiul
patrons, Allan was enabled to go to Italy, where he
studied w ith unremitting application for eleven years.
During his lesidence there. Lady Cathcart used to
\uite to him with all the care and affection of a
mother. In 1773, while living at Rome, he gained
the ]irize medal given by the academy of .St. Luke
for the best sjiecimen of historical com|)osili()ri ;
bring the only .Scotchinan who had ever reached
that IioiK.ur, besides Mr. (iavin Hamilton.

-Xfler his return in 1 777, Allan resided for about
two years in London; but, falling into a bad state
of health, he ^\■as <.)rdered home to .Scotland for a
< hange (jf air. Soon after Ids arrival in iMlinburgh,
hewa.s ap]iointed successor to Runciman (deceased),
as master and director of the academy established by
the Board of Trustees for Manufactures and Iiri-
|iroveuieiits, for ihe ])ur])ose of diffusing a knowledge
of the ]irinciples of the fine arts and elegance of
design, ill the various manufactures and works which
re'iuired to be figured and ornamented; a charge for

DAVID ALLAN —

which he was peculiarly well qualified, by the exten-
sive knowledge he possessed of every branch of the
art. He retained the situation till his death.

Allan was much admired for his talents in compo-
sition, the truth with which he delineated nature, and
the characteristic humour which distinguished his
jiictures, drawings, and etchings. There are several
engravings from his pictures, as, "The Origin of
Painting, or the Corinthian Maid Drawing the
Shadow of her Lover," and four in aquatinta by
I'aul Sandby, from drawings made by Allan when
at Rome, representing the sports during the carnival.
.Several of the figures were portraits of persons well
known to the English who visited Rome between
1770 and 1780. There is one caricature by Allan,
which is well known to Scottish collectors : it repre-
sents the interior of a church or meeting-house at
Dunfermline, at the moment when an imprudent
couple are rebuked by the clergyman.. There is a
drollery about the whole of this performance that
never fails to amuse. The alliance of his genius to
that of our national poets, led Allan, in 1788, to
publish an edition of the Gentle Shepherd, with char-
acteristic drawings. He also published a collection
of the most humorous of the old Scottish songs,
each illustrated by a characteristic etching. At his
death, which happened on the 6th of August, 1796,
he left a series of drawings designed for the poems
of Burns in an efjually graphic and humorous style.
There is one property which runs through all the
designs of .\llan, and by which his productions may
be distinguished at the most casual glance: this is a
peculiar elegance of form which he always gives to
the limbs of his figures — elegance to such a degree,
that in many cases it may be pronounced out of
nature.

Allan, by his wife, whom he married in 1788, left
one son, bearing his own name, and who was sent
out as a cadet to India, and one daughter named
Barbara. In jierson, our .Scottish Hogarth, as he
was called, hacl nothing attractive. The misfortunes
attending his entrance into the world were such as
nothing in after-life could repair. "His figure was
a bad resemblance of his humorous precursor of
the English metropolis. He was under the middle
size; of a slender, feeble make, with a long, sharp,
lean, white, coarse face, much pitted by the small-
pox, and fair hair. His large prominent eyes,
(jf a light colour, were weak, near-sighted, and not
very animated. His nose was long an<l high, his
mouth wide, and both ill-shaped. His whole ex-
terior to strangers appeared unengaging, trifling,
and mean; and his deportment was timid and obse-
(juious. The prejudices naturally excited by these
(lisadvantages at introduction, were however dis-
pelled on acquaintance; and, as he liecame easy and
pleased, gradually yielded to agreealile sensations;
till they insensibly vanished, and at last, were not
only overlooked, but, from the effect of contrast,
even heightened the attractions by which they were
so unexpectedly followed. When in company he
esteemed, and which suited his t.aste, as restraint
wore off, liiseye imperceptibly became active, biiglu,
and penetrating; his manner and .address ipiick, lively,
and intere-ling— always kind, polite, and respectful;
his conversati'in open and gay. humorous without
satire, and jihiyfully replete with benevolence, ob-
servation, and ancc'iote."' — ]h\yii'n's edition of the
Gentle Shepherd, iSoS.

The author who thus f )rcibly delineates his ex-
ternal appear.Tnce, gives the following character of
his genius: — "As a painter, at least in his own
country, he neither excelled in drawing, composition,
colouring, nor etfect. Like Hogarth, too, beauty,

GEORGE ALLAN.

3»

grace, and grandeur of individual outline and form,
or of style, constitute no part of his merit. He was
no Corregio, Raphael, or Michael .Vngelo. He
painted portraits as well as Hogarth, belf)W the
middle size; but they are void of all charms of ele-
gance, and of the claro-obscuro, and are recom-
mended by nothing but a strong homely resemblance.
As an artist and a man of genius, his characteristic
talent lay in expression, in the imitation of nature
with truth and humour, especially in the representa-
tion of ludicrous scenes in low life. His eye w.as
ever on the watch for ever)- eccentric figure, every
motley group, or ridiculous incident, out of which
his pencil or his needle could draw innocent enter-
tainment and mirth."

ALLAN, George. This poet and professional
litterateur, whose life unfortunately was too brief to
develope into full maturity the high promise which his
early efforts had given, was the youngest son of J(jhn
Allan, farmer at I'aradykes, near Edinburgh. Hav-
ing adopted the law for his future profession, he be-
came ajiprentice to a writer to the signet; but either
growing weary of dry legal studies, or finding greater
attractions in literature, he abandoned the vocation
almost as soon as he had added W.S. to his name,
and went to London for the purpose of pursuing an
adventurous career as an author. There he soon
obtained the acquaintance of Allan Cunningham, and
Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, who recognized his talents,
and encouraged his literar}' aspirations. But his
strength of nerve and soundness of health did not
correspond with his ardent enthusiasm, so that in
1829 he was fain to accept an appointment in Ja-
maica. The climate of the West Indies not suiting
him, he returned home in the following year, and
soon after obtained the editorship of the Dutnfries
yoitrpial, a respectable newspaper in the Conserva-
tive interests. This situation he continued to hold
for three years with great popularity and success,
when a change in the proprietorship of the news-
paper introduced new measures and a new editor ; and
Allan repaired to lulinburgh, and obtained enqiloy-
ment as litcrarv- assi^tant in the office of the Me>srs.
Chambers. In this situation, while he remained in
it, he was comfortable and happy, \\hile his intel-
lectual energies had full swing; and besides contri-
buting many excellent articles to Chambers' Edii:-
hinxh yonrnal, he wrote extensively in the column-
of the Scotsman newspa]ier. Mr. Allan was al-n
author of a I^ife of Sir ! falter Seott, in one octavo
volume, which enjoyed large jiopularity until it, ^\■ith
its other brethren, was swallowed up by the admirable
memoir written by Lockhart ; and he materially as-
sisted Mr. Beter Macleod in preparing tlie On^:>i,:i
Xational J/elodies 0/ Scotland, to whicli he furn;.-lied
several contributions.

Although still young. Mr. .Mian had aliva-ly ac-
complished so much, and established so l:i']'c:ul a
prospect for the future, tliat in October, I^3I. am;
while only in his 25th year, he ventured <i;i ■■gi\:i\:^'
hostages to fortune." by marrying Mrs, Mary
Hill, a widow, the eldest daughter of Mr. William
I'agan of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan Ciinr.'.r.g-
hain. In 1S34 also, some of his relative-. tbiMiigh
]")oIitical intliience, obtained for him a situ.-.ti' ■!! :n
the stamp-oflice, which insured li;ni a i;i - ierate
competence, but without depriving liini ot iijor-
tanity to jirosecute his literary occii; a::' :-. l''..t
soon at'ter this ]iromis!ng ]M,iiu w.is rea^lu-ii. !.>
career was sud'ieiilv tenninatei. Hi- ir:te.!i- ctual
and ]ioctical ardour had beei". t'"' r.ii;^;; : r t;;e
frame it tenanted; th.e delicate rerv'-us .T^-ani/a-
tion, which had b-th animated ai;d cvA^^ll'.d him,

ROBERT ALLAN-

SIR \VILLL\M ALLAN.

sank under the too close application of his mind;
and he died suddenly at Janeficld, near Leith, on
the 15th of Auijust, 1S35, in the thirtieth year of
his age, leaving behind him a name, both as a prose
writer and a poet, which few so young are fortunate
to establish.

ALLAN, RonKRT. This minor poet, whose
merits however deserve commemoration, was, like
most of his order, of a humble origin, being tlie sou
of a flax-dresser in Kilbarclian, Renfrewshire. He
was born in that vill.age on the 4th November, 1774,
and was the third of a family of ten children. He
followed tlie occu])ation of a muslin weaver; but
having been boru a poet, he relieved his monotonous
occu|utii)n with poetry, so that many of his best
compositions were produced under the regidar click-
ing of his hand-loom. Through his early love of
music and talent for song-writing he became ac-
quainted with tlie poet Tannahill, and lived with
hint on terms of friendly intim.acy. When the Sirot-
tish Minstrel w.as published by K. A. Smith, that
eminent composer set the contributions of Robert
Allan to music; and in 1820 several of Allan's songs
were published in the Ilarp 0/ Kcitf>\-ii<slurc, where
they attracted considerable notice. His popularity
as a writer of songs was n(nv so well established, that
his fricndi thought the time had arrived when his
reputation as a poet might be confirmed, and the
poverty of his K)t amended, by a separate publication
of his own. .Accordingly, a collection of liis poems,
revised by the editorial care of Robert Burns Hardy,
teacher of elocution in Glasgow, was published by
sul)>cription in 1S36; and — unmeritedly, as we think
— proved a failure. Tiiis sufficed to deter him from
any such attemi)t in future.

In the meantime, alllunigh depressed by poverty,
Robert .Mian had married, and was the father of
a numerous family, all of whom were married except
hi-> yinuige-.t s(jn, a ]iortrait-])ainter of great promise,
who had emigrated to the United States. Embittered
by the neglect witli which hi.s poetry had been treated,
and sick of his native country because it was not
governed according to his own political theories, our
poet, now in hi-, sixty-seventh year, resolved to leave
Scotland for ever, and s])end the rest of his days with
his youthful Benjamin in .\merica. (Ireatly against
the wi-h of his friend-;, he sailed to New \'ork; but
the fatigues of the voyage were too much for him,
and he died in that city on the l.^t of June, 1841,
only six ilays after landing.

ALLAN. Sir Wii.mam, R..\., rresi<lont of tlic
Royal >coiti-.h .Academy of Painting. This dis-
tingui-lu-d painter was born at Ldinburgh, in the
year 17S2. and was the son of William .Allan, who
held the humble office of macer in the Court of
Se-.-.ion. Notwith-^landing the circumstances of his
birth, he was de>tined, like other^of the same grade
in Scotland, to uii'h-rgo a classical education, before
his future path in life was selected. Accordingly,
he was sent to the high-school of Ivlinburgli. and
j)laccd under the preceptorship of Mr. William Nicol,
whose inem'iry will descend to posterity more fir
the "|>eck o' maut" which he brewed to sup])Iy one
memorable sitting where Burns was the laureate,
than for all his cla-sjcal attainments, res])i-ctnl)le
though they were. The future artist, however, was
a poor Latin scholar, though .N'icol was a stern and
able teacher. I:i fact, the boy already felt nature
strong within him, sr) that he was sketching the ob-
jects around him with whatever instrument came to
hand, while his class-fellows were occu|)ie'l with thi-
commentaries of Cicsar or the longs and shorts of

Ovid. So keen was this artistic tendency, that the
forms and floor of the class-room were frequently
chalked with his juvenile efforts, while their excel-
lence pointed out the offender who had thus trans-
gressed against academic rule. Another luxury in
which he indulged, was to linger near a group of
boys playing at marbles; and while studying their
attitudes and the expression of their countenances,
he neither thought of the class hour that had elapsed,
nor the punishment that awaited his remissness.
After striving against the bent, Mr. Nicol saw that
he could not transform his pupil into a lover of
Latin and Clreek; but his pupil had long been of the
same opinion. He felt within himself not only his
natural tendency, but a vague conception of the
eminence to which it would lead him; and his usual
reply to jiaternal remonstrance was, "Father, in
spite of all this spending of money in learning Latin,
1 will be a painter." A painter accordingly it was
consented that he should be, but his noviciate in the
profession was sufficiently humble: he was bound
apprentice to a coach-builder in Leith Walk, to
paint the armorial bearings on the panels of carriages.
But Hogarth himself had a less promising com-
mencement. William Allan, although a stripling
not more than thirteen years of age, soon gave such
indications of pictorial excellence, that he was em-
l)loyed in the delicate task of painting certain ana-
tomical preparations at Surgeons' Square Hall. At
the commencement of his labours there, he was
locked up by mistake at night in the room where he
had been occupied all day, and was thus compelled
to spend the hours of darkness amidst the skeletons
and mangled relics of the dead. The hideous effects
upon the imagination of a timid susceptible boy in
such a charnel-house; the sights he saw by the
glimmer of the moon through the crevices of the
window-shutters, and the still more terrible phan-
tasms which his fancy conjured up, formed such a
night of horror as no artist but Fuseli could have
relished. Allan himself was wont at a late stage in
life, and amidst the literary circles of Edinburgh, to
detail tlie particulars of this ghastly bivouac with
a force of description and amount of merriment that
never failed to set the hearers in a roar. It was
making Vorick's skull to speak anew, for tlie mirth
of the present generation.

The high promise of excellence \\hich the coach-
panel ]")ainting of William Allan afforded, so won
upon his employer, that, through the influence of
tlie latter, he was entered in the Trustees' Academy,
\\here he was a pupil for several years; and it is
wcjrlhy of remark that WMlkie entered this school at
the same period with Allan, sat on the same form,
and coi)ied from the same models and drawings.
This circumstance, independently of their mutual
enthusiasm for the art in which tlicy were afterwards
so distinguished, ripened an affection between them
which no jealous rivalry could subsequently disturb.
Their friendship continued unaljated till the close of
Wilkie's life; and Allan was wont, while training
his scholars, to refer to his illustrious fellow-]>u]iil,
as their best model and exam|)Ie. After he had
spent several years in the lessons of the Trustees'
-Academy, wliere he had a faithful and efficient
teacher in Mr. (Iraliam, of whose instructions he
alw,-i_\> .>p(jke with gratitude and respect, Allan went
to Londcjii, and was admitted to the school of the
Roy.il .Academy. On commencing active life, how-
ever, he soon'experienced the difficulties with which
tlie line arts, as a profession, have to contend in the
great inelru])olis of merchandise: his su])eriority was
lint felt with that readiness which his youthful enthu-
siasm iiad anticipated, and the demands upon his

SIR WILLIAM ALLAN.

33

pencil were so few as would soon have been insuffi-
cient to furnish him with a mere subsistence. Like
his countrymen so situated, he resolved to try the
experiment elsewhere, and find or make a home
wherever liis talents could be best appreciated. The
place he selected for trial was Russia, a country still
imperfectly known in general society, and where the
fine arts seemed to have little chance of a cordial
reception, amidst the recent and as yet imperftct
civilization of the people. The boldness of his
choice was also fully matched by scantiness of means
for its execution; for he knew nothing of the Russ
language, was slenderly provided with money, and
had only one or two letters of introduction to some
of his countrymen in St. Petersburg.

Thus inadequately equijiped, the artist-adventurer
threw himself into a career which was ultimately to
lead to fame and fortune. Even the commencement
was attended with a startling omen; for the ship in
which he embarked for Riga was tossed al)out by
adverse winds, and at length driven almost a wreck
into Memel. Thus, contrary to his purpose, Allan
found himself the temporary inh.ibitant of a sea-port
town in Prussia, in the midst of a people to whose
tongue he was a stranger, and with pecuniary re-
sources which a few days would exhaust. Still,
however, his stout heart triumphed over the difficulty.
Having settled himself at an inn, he commenced in
due form tlie occupation of portrait painter, and had
for his first sitter the Danish consul, to whom he had
been introduced by the captain of the vessel that
brought him to Memel. Other sitters followed; and
having thus recruited his exhausted purse, he resumed
his original purpose of travelling to Russia, which
he did by land, passing, on his way to St. Petersburg,
througli a considerai)le part of the Russian army,
which was at that time on its march to the field of
Austerlitz. At St. Petersburg he found an effectual
patron in his countryman, Sir Alexander Crichton,
physician to the imperial family, to whom he was
warmly recommended by Colonel Crichton, the
jihysician's brother, one of his early patrons in Scot-
land, and by .Sir Alexander he was introduced to an
extensive antl fashionable circle of society, wliere his
artistic talents were appreciated, and his opportu-
nities for their improvement furthered. To accom-
plish that improvement, indeed, was so strongly the
desire of his ardent enthusiastic mind, that neither
the motives of personal comfort and safety, nor the
attractive society of the Russian capital, could with-
hold him from a course of adventurous self-denying
travel. lie therefore repaired to the Ukraine,
where he resided for several years, studying the wild
scenery of the steppes, and the still wilder costume
and manners of its inhabitants, with a fearless and
observant eye. He also made occasional journeys
to Turkey and Tartary, as well as to the remote
dependencies of the Russian emi)ire, dwelling in llie
hut of the barbarian serf, or the tent of the wander-
ing nomade, as well as the palace of the boyar and
the emir; and amidst the picturesque tribes' of the
ea.4 and north, with whom he thus freely fraternized,
he enjoyed a daily intercourse with those whom his
le^s adventurous brethren at home are contented to
delineate from the narratives of the traveller or the
waking dreams of the studio. The large collection
which .Mian made of the dresses, armour, weai)ons,
and utensils of ilie various communities among whom
he sojourned, an 1 the life-like case and fidelity of
f )rm, feature, and costume, by which the figures of
his princijial paintings are distinguished, attest how
carefully and how completely he had identified him-
self with Russian. Turk, ami Pule, with Cossack,
Circassian, and Pash.kir. It is much to be regretted

VOL. I.

that he kept no journal of the many stirring scenes
he witnessed, and the strange adventures he under-
went in this novel pilgrimage in quest of the sublime
and the beautiful. That they were pregnant with
interest and instruction, and worthy of a permanent
record, was well evinced by the delight with which
his hearers were wont to listen to his c<jnvi.rsational
narratives, when he happened — which was but rarely
—to allude to the events of his travels. I Ic ai)])ears
also to have become an especial favourite with those
rude children of the mountain and the desert among
whom he sojourned, and whose language, dress, and
manners he adopted, so that he is still rememl)ered
by the old among them as an adopted son or brother,
while in Poland the usual name by which he is
distinguished is Ic Raphael Jicossais — the Scottish
Raphael.

After this romantic apprenticeship, in which he
established for himself a high reputation as a painter
among foreigners, while he was still unknown at
home, Allan resolved, in 1812, to return to his native
land. But the invasion of Russia by Napoleon
obliged him to postpone his purpose; and in addition
to the large stock of ideas which he had alreadv
accumulated for future delineation, he was comjielled
to witness, and treasure up rememljrances of, the
worst effects of war upon its grandest scale — Idood-
shed, conflagration, and famine maddening ever,-
human passion and feeling to the uttermost. On
the restoration of peace in 1814, Allan returned to
Edinburgh after a ten years' absence, and commenced
in earnest the work for which he had undergone so
singular a training. His first effort, which was
finished in 1815, and exhibited in .Somerset House,
was his well-known painting of the "Circassian
Captives;" and after this followed the "Tartar
Banditti," "Haslan Gherai crossing the Kuban,"
"A Jewish Wedding in Poland," and "Prisoners
conveyed to Siberia by Cossacks." But, notwith-
standing the now highly established reputation of
these and other productions, which he exhibited in
his native city, along with the costumes and weapons
of the countries by which his paintings were illus-
trated, a home rejnitation was very hard to establish:
his countrymen, with their proverbial caution, were
slow to perceive the excellences that addressed
them in such an unwonted form, and refused to
sympathize, at first sight, with Poles, Tartars, and
Circassians. It was well, therefore, for Allan that
his labours had already been prized in Russia, so
that he had not been allowed to return home emjity-
handed. He persevered with the same boldness
that had carrietl him onward through the encamp-
ments of the Calmucks or the defiles of the Cauca>u>;
and to all the remonstrances of his relations, who
advised him to leave such unprofitable work and
betake himself to jxirtraits, by which he would gai:i
both fame and money, his invariable answer was.
"I will be a historical painter." His ]ier>eve!aiKe
was at last rewarded. .Sir Waller .Scott. Ji'hn
Lockhart, and John Wilson, with other.--, who were
able to ajipreciate the artist's merits, cunibiiicd tn
purch.ase the "Circassian Ca]nive>" at a ]t:cl-
adeijuate to its value; and having t'.one thi-, thr
individual possession of the painting was (icci'lc'i
among them by lot, in consequence of which i".
became the property of the l-'.arl of \\\iny--.
"Haslan (iherai"and the '•Siberian ]-.\:!i.> .al-'
fiuiiil a munificent ]nu-cha>er in the (.r.ii.i; I '■..kc
Nicholas, late P.mperor of Rus.-ia, wb.cn Ik v;-;:e'I
the Scottish cajiital. Tl:e tide liad t!u:- cl-.n'.gi'i:
and it bore him on to fortur.e, rot only 1:1 ;t..,::ii;.iry
matters, but to what lie h.ad >ti!I m.^rc .v. \\y-.r\ li.c
e.-tal'li-hment of his re- utalioii a? .1 ."-co;-.;-h \ ainler

3

34

SIR WILLIAM ALLAN.

)f histor)'. Although they are so well known, the
following list of his principal productions may here
be fitly introduced: —

The Slave Market at Constantinople —
purchased by Alexander Hill, Esij., and now the
property of Miss Davidson of Durievale, Fife.

John Knox admonishing Mary Queen of
Scots. — This is the well-known scene described by
the Reformer himself, in which the beautiful queen,
irritated by his bold sentiments about the limited
power of sovereigns, and the liberty of their subjects,
burst into tears.

The Ori'IIAN, a scene at Abbotsford, in the
interior of .Sir Walter Scott's breakfast-room.

The Meetinc; of David Deans with his
Dai'ghter Jeanie at Roseneath. In the tale
of the Heart of Mid- Lothian, Sir Walter Scott, after
describing the dress, look, and attitude of the stern
old father, adds, ".^o ha])pily did they assort
together, that, should I ever again see my friends
Wilkie or .Mian, I will try to borrow or steal from
them a sketch of this very scene." This was a fair
challenge, which .Mian gladly accepted, and the
picture of the meeting at Roseneath was the result.

The Regent Mlrrav shot uv Hamilton of
BoTHWELLllAlGH. — In this great event of Scottish
histon.', the painter, instead of confining himself to
the strict historical record, has adopted the poetical
description of ."-iir Walter Scott in his ballad of
Cadzcni'. This gave the artist an opportunity of in-
troducing several personages who were not present
at the scene, such as Jo'.in Knox and the Earl of
Morton.

The Mirder of David Rizzio.

The Fair .Maid of I'erth.— The scene is that
in the glover's house, when Henry of the Wynd was
suddenly awoke on Valentine's morn by the bashful
salute of the fair object of his affections, according
to the established custom of the festival.

The Hatti.e of Preston pans. — The central
and chief object in this painting is the death of
Colonel Gardiner, amidst the small handful of
English infantry whom he joined when his cavalry
had deserted him.

The Ettrick Shepherd's Birthday. — In this
painting, the portraits of the princip.al friends of the
artist and poet are introduced within the interior of
Jl'^'Sg^ hou>e .at Eltrive, after a day spent in trouting
and rambling among the mountains.

The Deaih <if .VKrniiisHop Sharpe.

.•\ rREss-ClANG. — The terrible and heart-rending
fi'ielity and p'nvcr of this delineation have always
jilaced it in tlie f )remost rank of .Ml.an's artistic pro-
ductions. A young man, the son of a fisherman, has
just returned from a long voyage in a merchant ship,
and l)ccn welconicl l>y his i)arents, relatives, and
mistres'i: the triumphant feast is ])rcpare<l, and the
happiness of the jiarty has rtrached its height, when
a prcs>-gang suddenly rudies in, and the sailor-bov
is within their gra^j), and about to be carried off.
The agony of the i)arcnt-,; the fruitless attempt of
the mother to l)rilte the leader of the gang; the
stupor of the aged grandfather and grandmother,
with whom this seems to Ih- the last, as well ns the
most crushing afilicti<;n which a long-s[)ent and now
worn-f)Ut life coidd have in store for them -and
saddest <-f all, the half-dresserl maiden who lias
hurried to welcome her lover's return, hut onlv to
lose him, and who has fallen into an iusensihilitv
that might be mistaken for death — cijm])ose a group
of misery which art has seld<jm c'luallcil, and
})erhaps never surpassed.

These arc but a few of .Mian's many production^,
which were prized by competent judges as master-

pieces of historical painting, and the greater part of
which have been familiarized to the public at large
through the medium of engraving. His labours,
however, were more than once interrupted from ill
health; and at last, a complaint in the eyes sus-
pended his exertions for several years, and threatened
to end in total blindness. By medical advice he
went to Italy; and after sojourning a winter at
Rome, and spending a short time in Naples, he
visited Constantinople, Asia Minor, and Greece, and
returned with recruited health to his beloved studio
in Edinburgh. He became once more a traveller in
1834, being desirous of visiting the romantic and
historical scenery of Spain. His journey on this
occasion extended into Western Barbaiy, and would
have been still further lengthened, but for a sudden
necessity of returning home, after which he con-
tinued to produce many of his best paintings. A
desire also to paint the battle of Waterloo led him
several times to France and Belgium, that he might
collect sufficient materials in costume, scenery, and
incident, and study accurately the field of conflict.
The result was a magnificent view of this great com-
bat of nations, »vhich, at the exhibition of the Royal
Academy in 1843, ^^'^s purchased by the Duke of
Wellington, who testified his approbation of its
truth and accuracy. Allan had now done enough
for fame and fortune, both as artist and traveller;
but in 1844 he again grasped his pilgrim's staff for
a journey into the far north. He visited Russia,
and there produced his painting of "Peter the Great
teaching his subjects the art of Ship-building;" which,
after being exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1845,
was purchased by the Emperor of Russia, for the
winter palace of St. Petersburg. In consequence of
the success of his first painting of Waterloo, he
resolved on producing a second; and, as the former
was delineated as viewed from the French side of the
action, the latter was from the British. Indepen-
dently also of the stirring nature of the subject, his
personal as well as patriotic feelings were engaged
in this fresh effort, for it was intended for the com-
petition of Westminster Hall in 1846. Great, how-
ever, as were its mei'its, it was unsuccessful. It was
afterwards purchased by the Junior United .Service
Club in London, of whose splendid rooms it now
forms a conspicuous ornament. The public honours
which had already rewarded him, might indeed
sufficiently console him under this disa]ipointment ;
for in 1826 he was elected an associate of the Rc)yal
-•\cademy, and in 1835 ^'^ academician. Four
years later, on the death of Watson, he was unani-
mously preferred to the office of president of the
Royal Scottish Academy; and in 1842, after having
been appointed her majesty's limner for Scotland on
the death of Wilkie, he received the honour of
knighthood. He was now also the venerable father
of Scottish painting, and could look around him
with ]:)leasure upon a race of jiromising artists whose
genius his exam]de and labours had kindled in
a de]iartment which, as yet, his countrymen had
almost wholly neglected.

The last jirofessional labour in which Sir \\'il]iam
Allan was engaged was the "Battle of Bannocklnirn.''
into the difficult and comjdicated details of which he
entered with all the insjiiration and vigour of his
best days. The ]K'riod of action selected was the
critical moment when the English, daunted by the
discomfiture of their bowmen, the overthrow of their
s].lendid cavalry am<jng the concealed ]iits, and the
ap])earance of what seemed a fresh Scottish army
descending from the Gillie's Hill, gave w.iy on every
side, and were prc-sed and borne down by the rc^ist-
less effort of the four Scottish bodies, now united

CHARLES ALSTON

into one, with the heroic Bruce at their head. But
this painting, to which he clung to the last, and
touched and retouched with a dying hand, he did
not live to finish, lie died at his house in Great
King Street, Edinburgh, on February 23, 1850. As
a painter. Sir William Allan will long be gratefully
remembered in the annals of Scottish art, for the
impulse which he gave to historical composition.
For this department he was eminently fitted; for his
excellence in painting did not so much consist in
character and colour, as in his admirable power in
telling a story and his general skill in composition,
by which each of his productions is a striking poeti-
cal narrative. Sir Walter Scott, a congenial spirit,
who highly prized and affectionately loved him, was
wont to speak of him under the familiar endearing
name of "Willie Allan."

ALSTON, Charles, M.D., an eminent botanist,
was bom in 1683, in Lanarkshire, and spent his
early years at Hamilton Palace, under the patronage
of the Duchess of Hamilton. Her grace wished him
to study the law, but he preferred botany and medi-
cine, and accordingly, in 1 7 16, set out for Leyden,
where those sciences were at that time taught by the
illustrious Boerhaave. Here he found a great num-
ber of young Scotsmen engaged in the same pursuit,
and all inspired with an uncommon degree of en-
thusiasm in their studies, which they had cauglit from
their master. Alston, after taking his degree as
<loctor of physic, returned to his native country, and
began to practise in Edinburgh. He obtained the
sinecure oftice of king's botanist, through the influence
of the Duke of Hamilton, heritable keeper of Holy-
rood House, to which tlie garden was attached. This
garden he enriched by large collections which he had
ra.ade in Holland, where botanical science was then
more highly cultivated than in any other country in
Europe. In 1720, notwithstanding that a botanical
class was taught in the college iiy a professor of
eminence named Preston, he began a course of
lectures in tlie king's garden. Preston at length
waxing old, Alston was, in 1738, chosen to succeed
him, as ]irofessor of botany and materia medica
united. He was exceedingly laborious in his duties
as a professor, giving a course on botany every
summer, and one on materia medica every winter;
and never sparing any pains which he thought could
be conducive to the jjrogress of his pupils. The
celebrated Dr. Fothergill, in his character of Dr.
Russell, bears ample testimony to the assiduity of
Dr. Alston, who had been his master; and describes
in glowing language the benefit which those who
attended him had the means of reaping, his caution
in s]ieculation, and how laborious he was in experi-
nient. For the assistance of his pupils, he published,
about 1740, a list of the officinal plants cultivated in
the Edinburgh medical garden. Of Linnajus's sys-
icm, which was first promulgated in 1736, Dr. .\lston.
like many other jihilosophers of his daV, was a steady
opponent. He jiublished a paper against it, on the
sexes of plants, in the first volume of Physical and
Literary J-'.ssays, a miscellany which was commenced
at Edinl)urgh in 1751. The controversy which took
place at that period among>t naturalists has now lost
all its interest, seeing that the method of Linna.'u-;.
after serving a useful jiurpose, has been superseded
by the natural system, to the foundation of which
Linnanis in no small degree contributed, liut which
it was left to Jussicu and De Candolle to mature.
Dr. .\lst(}n also contributed some articles to an
Edinburgh miscellany entitled Medical Kssavs; the
most important is one on o]iium. In 1753 he
published an introduction to Dr. Patrick Blair's

ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

35

Index Afaterice Medica, a work which resembled his
own index in a considerable degree. This introduc-
tion was a separate work, and was entitled Tyroci-
nium Botanieum Edinburi^ense. Dr. Alston, as the
contemporary of the first .\Ionro, and professor of a
kindred branch of science, was by no means unworthy
of either his time or his place. He must be con-
sidered as one of those who have contributed to
the exaltation of the college of Edinburgh as a
school of medical science. He died on the 22d
of November, 1760, in the seventy-seventh year of
his age.

ANDERSON, Adam, author of the largest
British compilation upon commercial histor)-, was a
native of Scotland, bom about the year 1692. Hav-
ing removed to London, he was for forty years a
clerk in the .South Sea House, and at length was
appointed chief clerk of the stock and new annuities
in that establishment, in which situation he continued
till his death. He was appointed one of the trustees
for establishing the colony of Georgia, by charter
dated June 9th, 5 Geo. H. He was also one of the
court of assistants of the Scots corporation in Lon-
don. In 1762 he published his work entitled A
Histcrrical and C/irottological Deduction of the Origin
of Commerce, from the earliest acccnints to the present
time; containitig a history of the large commercial in-
terests of the British Empire, &.C., London, 2 vols.
folio. The elaborate character of this work says
much for the industry of the author. It was sub-
sequently improved in a new edition by David
Macpherson, 4 vols, quarto; and a manual abridg-
ment of the work may still be considered a want in
our literature. Mr. Anderson died soon after he
had given it to the world, January- loth, 1 765, at
the age of seventy-three.

ANDERSON, Alexam)?:r, a ver)^ eminent
mathematician, bom at Aberdeen, near the close of
the sixteenth centurv'. How or where he acquired
his mathematical education is not known; he pro-
bably studied belles-lettres and philosophy in his
native university. He comes into notice at Paris,
early in the seventeenth centurj-, as a private teacher
or professor of mathematics. In that city, between
the years 1612 and 1619, he publi>hed or edited
various geometrical and algebraical tracts, which are
conspicuous for their ingenuity and elegance. It is
doulnful whether he was ever acquainted with the
famous Vieta, master of requests at Paris, who died
in 1603; but his pure taste and skill in mathematical
investigation pointed him out to the executors of that
illustrious man — who had found leisure, in the inter-
vals of a laborious profession, to cultivate and extend
the ancient geometn.-, and by adojiting a system <'l
general symbols, to lay the foundation, and begin the
su]ierstnicture of algebraical science — as the jier-oii
most proper for revising and jiuhlishing his valiialile
manuscripts. Anderson, however, did not coiitme
himself to the duty of a mere editor; he enriched the
text with learned comments, and gave neat demon-
strations of those i^rojiositions which had been lei:
imperfect. He afterwards jiroduced a sixcinien . 1
the application of geometrical analy-.i-.. which :-
distinguished by its clearness and cla>-ic ele^Mnee.

The works o'f this eminent ]'er>on .iniount t" ~a
thin quarto volumes, now very >carce. I he-e ate
I. Stipplemcntum Ap^'llcuii Red:::::: s:: c ,:>::;.
probletiiatis hactcuus dcsidcratt cd .Ip :,.>::: /'. ., ■
dt'ctrinain trepi fficreu'i' i; Mar:!:r i,''.\:\:..:. }'.::■::.
Regiisino hii/usi/HC u^^n i!a pridnn ni. '^tutrii':. \k.:
Pari-;. i6l2.'4to. Tlii- tr.ict refer- t^ the ii'Miin
of inclinations, bv v.hich. in ceriain i..i-e~. the ."a J-.-

36

CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON.

cation of the cun'e called the conchoid is superseded.
2. Atrto\o7ta: Pro Zetctico Apolloniani problcinatis a
se jam fridem edito in supplemcnio Apollonii Redriiiz'i.
Being an addition to the former work: Paris, 1615,
4to. 3. The edition of the works of Vieta: Paris,
1615, 4to. 4. Ad Angiilartim Scctioncm Aualytica
Thcorctnata KaOoXiKurrepa, &c. : I'aris, 16 1 5, 4to.

5. {'indicia' Arc/iimcdis, Sec: Paris, 1616, 4to.

6. Alcxandri Andcrsoni Scoti Excrcitationum Mat he-
maticarum Dccas Prima, &c. : Paris, 1619, 410.
All these pieces of this excellent geometrician are
replete with the finest specimens of pure geometrical
exercises that have ever perhaps been produced by
any authors, ancient or modern. Hcsides these,
literary history is not aware of any other publications
by .\nderson, though probably there may have been
others. Indeed, from the last piece it fully ai)pears
tiiat he had at least written, if not published, another,
viz. A Treatise on the Mensuration of Solids, perhaps
with a reference to gauging; as in several problems,
■where he critically examines the treatise of Kepler
on cask-gauging, he often refers to his own work on
stereometn,'.

The subject of this memoir was cousin-german
to^Mr. David Anderson, of Finshaugh, a gentle-
man who also possessed a singular turn for mathe-
matical knowledge, and who could apply his ac-
quirements to so many useful purposes that he was
popularly known at Aberdeen by the name of Davie
Do-a'-things. He accjuired prodigious local fame by
removing a large rock which had formerly obstructed
the entrance to the harl>our of Aberdeen. Mathe-
matical genius seems to have been in some degree
inherent in the whole family; for, through a daughter
of Mr. David Anderson, it reached the celebrated
James Gregory, inventor of the retlecting telescope,
who was the son of that lady, and is said to have re-
ceived from her the elements of mathematical know-
ledge. From the same lady was descended the late
Dr. Reid of Olasgow, who was not less eminent for
his acquaintance with the mathematics than for his
metaj)hy.sical writings.

ANDERSON, CitRiSTOPiiF.R. This excellent
divine, whose wliole life was an uninterrupted career
of conscientious painstaking activity and useful-
ness, was born in the \Ve>t How, Edinburgh, on the
19th of February, 17S2. Being intended for business,
he was entered as junior clerk in a friendly insur-
ance office; but at the early age of seventeen, having
joined the religious body called Indejicndents, and
two years afterwards that uf the English Baptists,
he relinquished his i)rofital)!e clerkship tiiat he might
devote himself tcj the ministerial office over that small
community in lOdinburgh who held his own religious
doctrines. I'"or this ])uri)()se he underwent a liastv
course of study in the university of i;(Hnburgh, which
he completed with almost equal speed at the Baptist
colleges fjfOlney and Bristol, where a twelvemonth's
study of theology was alternated with tiie jiractice of
preaching as an itinerating missionary; and having in
this way qualified himself for the work he originallv
contemplated, he returned to IMinburgh and devoted
himself to the little connmmity that had waited his
arrival. His commencement in the .Scottish metro-
polis, where learned and elofpient ministers ,ire so
abundant and so highly prized, was ns unjiroinisinn- as
his educational training: his usual audience in tiie
small chapel he had hired for the occasion consisted of
from fifty to seventy hearers, while the regular mem-
bers of his flock amounted to fourteen or fifteen
persons, and his call to be their minister exhibited ihe
signatures of not more than thirteen names. So small
a beginning, however, is no measure of the capacitv

of dissenterism under the guidance of a popular
preacher; and his congregation increased until the
small chapel could not hold them, so that they were
obliged to remove to a larger. And while thus suc-
cessful, his labours were not confined to his own par-
ticular locality. He itinerated as an occasional mis-
sionary over several parts of the United Kingdom,
bestowing not only his labours but his money in the
establishment of a home mission in the Highlands;
and in 1810 he originated the Edinburgh Bible
Society, an institution that combined the clergy of
Scotland of almost every denomination into one
body of religious action.

The Rev. Christopher Anderson had now become
a man of considerable note in Edinburgh; and it
speaks much for his diligence and zeal that, notwith-
standing his scanty education, he had been able to
make way among the learned and accomplished, and
become a leader among them in the field of Chris-
tian enterprise. But his natural capacities were
excellent, while his course of action seemed the fittest
school for maturing and improving them. Thus suc-
cessful as a minister, it was natural that such a man
should attempt the work of authorship; and for this
an occasion was soon presented. During his itiner-
ating missionary tours Ireland had fallen within his
range; and from the experience which he acquired of
that country during a considerable sojourn there in
1 8 14, he was induced to publish A Memorial in behalf
of the Native Irish, with a vieiu to their Improz'evtent
in A/oral and Religions Knoi.vledge through the vied-
ium of their 07vn Language. At first it was only
a small pamphlet, but he afterwards expanded it into
a duodecimo volume. Another such attempt was
occasioned by his laying before the Edinburgh Bible
Society, in 1819, a MS. entitled A Memorial respect-
ing the Diffnsioji of the Scriptures, particularly in the
Celtic or Iberian Dialects. His statements on this sub-
ject were judged so important that the society re-
quested him to publish them; and on complying with
their desire, the effect of this production was to in-
crease the exertions for the diffusion of Irish and
(jaelic Bibles beyond all former example. This work
he afterwards enlarged under the title of The A\^tivc
Irish and their Descendants. But besides thus direct-
ing the public attention to the religious wants of
Ireland and the Highlands, Mr. Anderson's author-
ship was called to a subject of domestic and personal
interest. His beloved wife had died: his family of
two sons and three daughters had also passed suc-
cessively away; and these afllictions, by which
he was left alone in the world, had brought on not
merely the appearance, but also the infinnities, of
a premature old age. It was during these heavy
successive calamities, and before the grave had finally
closed upon every member of the family, that he sat
down to console himself by the labours of his pen,
and produced The Domestic Constitution ; or the
/■'aini/v Circle the Source and I'est of National
Stability.

But the chief literar)' production of Mr. Anderson
was The Annals of the English Bible; and, like his
earlier attempts in authorshi]i, it originated in
accident, and was ex]ianded by after-reflection. At
tile tliird centenary of Coverdale's translation of the
Bilile in 1835 he ])reached a sermon on the subject;
and as he had bestowed much attention on it, his
facts Were so new and his views so important to
many of his audience, that they requested him to
jiuiilish the discourse. It was accordingly jnibiished
under the title of I'lie English .Scriptures, their fint
l\c<eplu>u and Effects, including Memorials of Tytidalc,
Enlh, Co-'crilale, and Rogers. The production was
so favourably received by the public that he was re-

JAMES ANDERSON.

37

quested to reproduce it in a more ample form; and
on assenting, he soon found that the task would re-
quire the study not merely of weeks but of years. Un-
dismayed, however, by such a prospect, he addressed
himself to the task; and from the years 1837 to 1845
his researches were prosecuted in the library of the
liritisJi Museum, the Bodleian at Oxford, the univer-
sity library and others at Cambridge, the Baptist
Museum at Bristol, besides numerous private sources,
from all of which he culled such information as filled
several bulky volumes of note-books. But when the
Annuls 0/ the Bible was published the public curiosity
had abated, or been directed into new channels; and
even tliose who felt most interest in the subject were
dismayed at the voluminous dimensions in which it
was presented to their notice. So far therefore as
immediate success was concerned, the work was
a literarj- failure; and no occasion has since occurred
to revive it into popularity. But it is not the less
a valuable production, from which, as from a store-
house, the theologian can at once get those necessary
materials which he would be compelled to seek over
a wide and difficult field of investigation. After
a life of such active usefulness as missionary, minister,
founder and secretary of religious associations, corres-
pondent with foreign missions, and author, the Rev.
Christopher Anderson died at Edinburgh on the l8th
of February, 1852, within a single day of completing
the seventieth year of his age.

ANDERSON, Jamf.s, an eminent antiquary, was
the son of the Rev. Patrick Anderson, who had been
ejected for nonconformity at the Restoration, and
who afterwards suffered imprisonment in the Bass for
preaching in a conventicle at Edinburgh. The sub-
ject of this memoir was born in Edinburgli, August
5th, 1662, and in 1677 is found studying philosophy
in the university of that city, where, after finishing
a scholastic education, he obtained the degree of
Master of Arts on the 27th of May, 1680. He chose
the law for his profession, and, after serving an ap-
prenticeship under Sir Hugh Paterson of Bannock-
burn, was admitted a member of the society of writers
to the signet in 1691. In this branch of the legal
profession the study of written antiquities in some
measure forces itself upon the practitioner; and it
appears that .A.nderson, though a diligent and able
man of business, became in time too fond of the
accessory employment to care much for the principal.
A circumstance which occurred in 1704 decided his
fate by tempting him into the field of antiquarian con-
troversy. The question of the union of the two coun-
tries was then very keenly agitated — on the one side
with much jealous assertion of the national indepen-
dency— and on the other, with not only a contempt
for the boasts of the Scots, but a revival of the old
claims of Englaml for a superiority or paramouncy
over their country. A lawyer named .Vttwood in

1704 published a pamphlet in which all the exploded
pretensions of Edward I. were brought prominently
into view, and a direct dominion in the crown of Eng-
land asserted over that of Scotland. Yox this work,
Mr. .\nderson, thougli altogether unknown to Mr.
Attwooil, was cited as an evidence and eye-witness
to vouch some of tiie mo-.t important original charters
and grants by the kings of Scotland, which .\tlwood
maintained were in favour of the point he laboured
to establish. Mr. Anderson, in consequence of such
an appeal, thought himself bound in duty to his
country to publish what he knew of the matter, and
to vindicate some oi the be>t of the Scottish kings,
who were accused by Attwood of a b.ose and volun-
tary surrender of their sovereignty. Accordinglv, in

1705 he published An Essay, sluncin^ that the C remit

of Seotland is Imperial and Independent, Edinburgh,
8vo, which was so acceptable t(i his country, that,
besides a reward, thanks were voted to him by par-
liament, to l)e delivered by the lord-chancellor, in
presence of her majesty's high commissioner and the
estates, at the same time that Attwood's book, like
others of the same nature, was ordered to Ijc burned
at the cross of Edinburgh by the hands of the com-
mon hangman. Mr. Anderson's publication is now
of little value, except for the charters attached to it
in the shape of an appendix.

This affair was the crisis of Anderson's fate in life.
He had, in the course of his researches for the essay,
collected a large mass of national papers: the studv
of charters was just then beginning to be appreciated
by antiquaries; the enthusiasm of the nation was
favourable, for the moment, to any undertaking
which would show the ancient respectability of its
separate system of government. Under all these
circumstances Anderson found it easy to secure the
patronage of the Scottish estates towards a design for
engraving and publishing a series of fac-similes of the
royal charters previous to the reign of James E, and
of seals, medals, and coins, from the earliest to the
present time. In November, 1 706, he had a parlia-
mentary grant of £'>po towards this object. He then
proceeded vigorously with the work, and in March,
1707, had not only expended the ;^300 granted by
parliament, but ;^590 besides, which he had drawn
from his own funds. A committee reported the facts;
and the estates, while they approved of his conduct,
recommended to the queen to bestow upon him an
additional contribution of ;,^io5o sterling. Another
parliamentary act of grace — and one of the verj-
last proceedings of the Scottish estates — was to re-
commend him to the queen "as a person meriting
her gracious favour, in conferring any office or tnist
upon him, as her majesty, in her royal wisdom, shall
think fit."

Quite intoxicated with this success, Anderson now
gave up his profession, and, resolving to devote him-
self entirely to the national service as an antiquary,
removed to London, in order to superintend the pro-
gress of his work. The event only added another
proof to what is already abundantly clear — that
scarcely any prospects in the precarious fields of
literature ought to tempt a man altogether to resign
a professional means of subsistence. The money
voted by the expiring parliament is said to have
never been jiaid; — the British senate perha])s con-
sidering itself not the proper heir of the Scottish
estates. Apparently in lieu of money, he was
favoured, in 1 71 5, with the appointment of post-
master-general for Scotland; but of this he was de-
prived in little more than two years. What iirogrc>s
lie now made with his great work is not very clearly
known. He is found in 171S adverli>ing that tho>e
who might wish to encourage it '"could see specimens
at his house, above the post-office in Edinlnirgh."
As the expense of engraving must have borne hard
upon his diminished resources, he would api-ear lo
have digressed for some years into an enqiloymeiu
of a kindreil nature, attended with greater faLiiiiie>
of publication. In 1727 he pul)Ii>hed the tw.i t):>t
volumes of his well-known Colh-cticriS rc'dfin^- .\' '■:■:
History cf Mar\\ Qticen of Scotland, Kdinluu-h. 4:".
which was speedily completed by tlie additi'^n y\ two
other volumes. This work contains a Iai:;e ir,.i--
of valuable original docuineirL> ci>nnec:ed \\:.\\ :l;e
Marian controver.-y; but (.iec'rge Chal!ner>. \v Im \\dit
over the same ground, insinuates that there > t<io
much reason to ,-u>]X'ct hi> hone>ty a- a ; ra:'.~L r;;>er.
If the prejudices of tlie two men are fairly lialanced
against the reputations \\hicli they re-;'eet;\e.y bear

38

JAMES ANDERSON.

as antiquaries, we must acknowledge that the charge
may not be altogether groundless.

Anderson died in 1728 of a stroke of apoplexy,
leaving his great work unfinished. The plates were
sold in 1729 by auction at ;^53o, and it was not till
1737 that the work appeareil, uniler the title of
SWc'i/us Diplomatum d Xumismatum Scotiic The-
sauriis, the whole being under the care of the cele-
brated Thomas Ruddiman, who added a most elabor-
ate preface.

ANDERSON, Jamks, D.D., author of a large
and useful work, entitled Koyal Genealoi^es, was
the brother of .\dam Anderson, author of the Con-
vurcial Htstory. He was for many years minister
of the Scots Presbyterian church in Swallow Street,
Piccadilly, and was well known among the jwople
of that persuasion in London by the nickname of
"Hishop .Anderson." lie was a learned but im-
prudent man, and lost a considerable ]iart of his pro-
perty by rash speculations in the South .Sea scheme.
His great work as an author was Koyal Genealogies,
or the Geiualogical Tables of Emperors, Kings, and
Princes, from Adam ( ! ) to these Times, London,
folio, 1732. The compilation of this huge work, in
which he was aided by many eminent personages,
whose families entered into its plan, cost him, accord-
ing to his own account, the labour of seven years.
It is certainly the comi^letest work of the kind in
existence, though with no pretensions to discrimina-
tion. The author says very frankly in his preface,
that "he hxs avoided all terms and expressions that
may give offence to any nation or family, to any
person or party; having nothing to do with the
national controversies of historians, nor with the ec-
clesiastical and religious debates of theologians, nor
with the politics of statesmen, nor with the private
jangles of the critics in a work of this kind, but only
with facts and //(//// truth: so that he has let every
nation enjoy its own faith; and if any find fault, he
hopes they will readily excuse him, not having de-
signed to offend them, and is willing to make satis-
faction if he lives to ])ul)lish a second edition."
Dr. .\nderson al>(j wrote The Constitutions of the
Free Masons, being the chaplain of tliat body in
London. The dates of this worthy man's birth and
death are not ascertained. He lived in a house
opposite to St. James's Church, Piccadilly.

ANDERSON, Jamks, an agricultural and miscel-
laneous writer of great merit, was the son of a farmer
at Hermiston, in the cmintyof Mid- Lothian, where he
was born in the year 1 739. His father <iying when
he was very young, he was educated by his giiardian
to occupy the farm, which accordingly he began to
m.an.age at the early .ige of fifteen. It m.ay be sup-
posed that he could not have been intrusted with so
important a charge if he had not already m.anifested
symptom^ of superior character and intellect; much
Icns, without such iiualitications, could lie have dis-
charged it, as he is said to have done, witli a|)proliri-
tion. In reading some agricultural work> to (jualirv
himself for his duties, lie h.id observed tli.it it would
be of .advantage to study cliemiNtry: he accordingly
attemled the lectures given in the university of Ivjin-
burgh by Dr. Cullen, who, although surprised that
one so young should have formed this resolution, had
soon reason to admire his ])U])irs laudable curiositv
and good sense, and liberally afforded him every en-
couragement. To chemistry he adiled the study of
certain collateral branches of science; so that, when
he entered upon his farm, he was not onlv able to
keep up with his more aged and experienced neigh-
bours, but to adoj)t a number of improvements, which

were speedily found to be of a most profitable nature.
Among his improvements was the introduction of
the small two-horse plough, which since then has so
completely banished the lumbering engine formerly
drawn by a string of cattle. Nor did the necessary
business of his farm preclude all advancement in
knowletlge. He still prosecuted his studies, and
contrived to amass an immense stock of information
upon almost all subjects.

His first attemjits in literature appeared in "Essays
on Planting," in Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine for
1771. In 1777, having previously removed to a large
farm in Aberdeenshire, he published these essays in
a separate volume. In 1776 appeared \i\<i Essay on
Chimneys, in which the princijde afterwards acted
on in the patent Bath stove was first explained. In
the same year with his volume on Planting appeared
various pamphlets connected with rural economy, all
of which were more or less calculated to gratify the
increasing desire of his countrymen for scientific
knowledge upon such familiar subjects. The fame of
these works procured him a very extensive acquaint-
ance with persons of eminence, who wished to profit
by the remarks of so able a practical farmer; and in
1780 the university of Aberdeen acknowledged his
merit by conferring upon him the degree of LL.D.

Anderson had been married in 1768; and a desire
of educating a very numerous family, and enjoying
literary society, induced him, in 1783, to remove to
Edinburgh, leaving the management of his farm to
persons properly qualified. A tract which he had
written on the subject of the fisheries, though not
printed, attracted the attention of the government,
and he was requested, in 1784 to undertake a tour of
the western coast of .Scotland, for the puq^ose of ob-
taining information on this important subject. He
performed the task to the high satisfaction of his
employers, who, however, never offered him any re-
muneration. The result of his labours appeared in
1785 as^« Account of the P7-esent State of the Hebrides
and Western Coasts of Scotlaiul; being the substance
of a Report to the Lords of the Treasury.

Passing over some minor works of Dr. Anderson,
we must make honourable mention of a literary and
scientific miscellany which he commenced in 179 1,
under the title of The Bee. This work was publislied
in weekly numbers at sixpence, and, by its delight-
ful intermixture of useful information with lighter
matters of the belles-lettres, was eminently calculated
for the improvement of the young. It was occasion-
ally embellished with jiortraits, views, and draughts
(jf scientific objects — in, it is true, a very homely
style, but still not much inferior to the taste of the
age. The work ran from the 22d of December,
1790, to tile 2 1st of January, 1 794, when it was at
length reluctantly abandoned, because such a large
pro])()rtion of the subscribers were remiss in their
payments as to induce an absolute loss to the con-
ductor. The cessation of such a meritorious little
]>ul)lication was the more to be regretted, as Ander-
son had only been able, t<jvvards its close, to bring
the assistance of his numerous and distant correspon-
dents into full play. The numbers published form
eighteen volumes duodecimo, and throughout the
whole of that space, we believe there does not occur
one morally reprehensible line.

.Among other papers in 'Jlie Pee \va=, a series of
essays on the ])olitical progress of Britain. Though
only written in what would now be considered a
liberal strain, they a]ipeared in the eyes of the sheriff
as calculated to have an injurious tendency at that
inflamed period; and the learned doctor was accord-
ingly summoned to give up the name of the author.
I his Anderson refused, from peculiar notions as to

JOHN ANDERSON.

39

literary secrecy; he desired to be liimself considered
as the author. After a second and a third applica-
tion, he still refused; and when the printers were sent
for, and similarly interrogated, he charged them, in
the face of the magistrates, to preserve his secret.
All this was the more singular, as his own principles
were known to be eminently loyal. Respect for his
talents and character induced the magistrates to let
the matter drop. The real author, a worthless
person named Callender, being afterwards about to
quit his country for America, waited upon the
authorities, and insinuated that the papers were
written by Lord Gardenstone, a man to whom he
owed many obligations. Immediately on hearing of
this infamous conduct, Anderson came for%vard, and
refuted the charge by avowing Callender himself to
be the real author. The whole of this affair reflects
great credit upon the character of Dr. Anderson.

About the year 1797, this ingenious person re-
moved with his family to London, where he under-
took various works connected with his favourite
study of agriculture. For several years he wrote the
articles on this subject in the Moittlily Kevieio; and
from 1 799 to 1802 he conducted a separate miscellany,
under the title of Recrcattons in Agriculture. P'rom
the last-mentioned date, he devoted himself almost
entirely to the relaxation which advanced years and
severe studies had rendered necessary, and particu-
larly to the cultivation of his garden, which became
a miniature of all his past labours. In 1801 he
married a second wife, who survived him. lie
died on the 15th of October, 1S08, at the age of
sixty-nine.

In his younger days, Dr. Anderson was remarkably
handsome in his person, of middle stature, and robust
make; but the overstrained exertion of his mental
powers afterwards shook his constitution, and hurried
him into old age. Of his abilities, his works exhibit
so many proofs that they may be appealed to with
]")erfect confidence. Although a voluminous writer,
there is no subject connected with his favourite pur-
suit on which he has not thrown new light. But
his knowledge was not confined to one science. He
exhibited, to give only one instance, very considerable
powers of research, when, in 1 773, he published, in
the first edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, an
article under the head "Monsoon." In this he clearly
predicted the result of Captain Cook's first voyage;
namely, that there did not exist, nor ever would be
found, any continent or large island in the southern
hemisphere except New Holland alone; and this was
completely verified on Captain Cook's return seven
months afterwards. Upon the whole, though tlie
name of Dr. Anderson is associated with no scientific
or literary triumphs of great splendour, his exertions,
by their eminent and uniform usefulness, have given
him very considerable claims to respect. A minute
si)ecification of his works is to be found in the Scols
M.tgtiziiic for 1809.

ANDERSON, John, M. A. An eminent Presby-
terian clergyman of last century, grandfather of
i'rofe>s.)r Anderson, the subject of the next article.
Of his early history very little is known, except that
he receiveil a university education, and took his
degree in arts. He was after\vards preceptor to the
great John, Duke of .\rgyle, and he mentions in his
Letters upon the Ckertiires concerning Kirk Sessions
and Presbyteries, that he had resided in Edinburgh
for twenty-five years in early life. He seems also to
have taught a school, and he is upbraided by "Curat
Calder" with having l)een "an old pedantic dominie,
teaching luce dat a.'' It was not, however, till after
his settlement as minister of Dumbarton, that he

became known as an author. The earliest of his
productions that has been discovered is entitled A
Dialogue between a Curat and a Countreyman concern-
ing the English Service, or Common-Prayer Book of
England, which was printed in fiuart<j at Glasgow,
about 1710. The question relative to the form of
prayer used in Scotland immediately after the Re-
formation, was at this time keenly canvassed by the
Scottish Episcopalians and Presbyterians, and the
clergy of the former persuasion had very shortly
before introduced the liturgy into their church service.
(Carstares' State Papers.) Mr., afterwards liishop.
Sage endeavoured, in his Eundamental Charter 0/
Presbytery Examined, to show that the English liturgy
had been used in Scotland for at least seven year's
after the establishment of the Protestant religion.
In this he was opposed by Mr. Anderson, who
adduced many arguments to prove that it was not
the English liturgy that is spoken of by the Scottish
historians, but that used by the English church at
Geneva. Soon afterwards Anderson jiublished a
Second Dialogue (dated 1711), in which, says he,
"there is hardly anything of importance which is
not said in the very words of the writers of the other
side," and in which South, Beveridge, Hammond,
and Burnet are the curates whose sentiments are
opjjosed. A Letter from a Countreyrnan to a Curat
followed the dialogues, and received several answers,
of which we shall only mention one, written by
Robert Calder, an Episcopalian clergyman, the
friend of Dr. Archibald Pitcairn, and printed in his
Miscellatty Numbers relating to the Controzersies abouc
the Book of Common Prayer, &c., folio, 1 7 13. To
this attack Anderson replied in a pamphlet entitled
Curat Calder WJiipt. He soon after published A
Sermon preached in the Church of Ayr at the Opening
of the Synod, on Tit es day the 1st of .April, 1 712,
printed at the desire of the Synod of Glasgow and
Ayr (cpiarto, price sixpence); and in 1714 the work
by which he is best known appeared. It has for its
title, A Defence of the Church Gozernment, Eaith,
IVorship, and Spirit of the Presbyterians, in ansrcer to
a Book entitled An Apology for Mr. Thomas Khiiid,
&c., 4to, and is dedicated to Archibald, Earl of Islay.
About the beginning of the year 1717, Anderson
informs us, "The people of Glasgow were pleased
to move that I should be called to be one of the
ministers of that place" {I^etter to Stewart of Par-
dcK'an, p. l), but the proceedings relative to this
transaction strikingly illustrate the truth of Wodrow's
remark in a letter to Dr. Cotton Mather.^ "We
are biting and devouring one another,'' says the
venerable historian, "and like to be consumed one
of another." After a course of opposition and debate
with which it is unnecessary to trouble the reader.
Mr. Anderson was at length settled in Glasg<iw in
1720, although it appears from M'Ure's Histcry
that the North-west Church, to which he was aji-
pointed, was not founded till 172 1, nor finished for
"a year or two thereafter." Mr. Anderson did not
long survive his call to CJlasgow. — the date of h;--
death has not been ascertained, but his success' ir
was apjjointed in 1723. His controversial writing's
are full of valuable historical informauon, and show
him to have been thoroughly versed in theiil"^';i:a!
literature, but it cannot be too much regretted tl'.it
he so far indulged in intemperate langu.ige. ^^ e
have not alluded to some (if his smaller ] ani] hicts.
which refer merely to subjects ol a tenir'^iary i. r
local nature.

Upon the family tombstune, erected by tr.o w:d
of Professor .Vnderson, over the gr-ive ■>; !;;s i^'r.ir.'l-

' WodtiTivs liist.^ry, new e-iiti ;:. v_I. i. p. Xa\.

40

JOHN ANDERSON.

father, upon the front of the North-west Church,
Glasgow, was inscribed tlie following memorial of
Mr. Anderson: — "Near this place ly the remains of
the Rev. John Andei-son, who was preceptor to the
famous John, Duke of Argylc and Greenwich, anil
minister of the gospel in Dumbarton in the beginning
of the eighteenth centur)-, and in this church in the
year 1 720. Me was the author of Tlu' Dt-feitcc of the
Church-i^irtL-rttmcHt, Faith, Worship, and Spirit of
the Presbyterians, and of several other ecclesiastical
and political tracts. As a pious minister and an
eloquent preacher, a defender of civil and religious
lil>erty, and a man of wit and learning, he was much
esteemet.1; he lived in the reign of Charles II., James
II., William III., .-\nne, and tieorge I. .Such times,
and such a man, forget not, re.ider, while thy country,
liberty, and religion are dear to thee."

ANDERSON, John, F.R.S., professor of na-
tural philosojihy in the university of Glasgow, and
founder of the eminently useful institution bearing
his name in that city, was born in the parish of
Roseneath, in Dumbarton>hire, in the year 1726.
He wxs the eldest son of the Rev. James Anderson,
minister of Roseneath, who was, in his turn, the eldest
son of the Rev. John .\nderson, ]ireceptor to John,
Duke of .Xrgyle, afterwards minister of the gospel at
Dumbarton, and of whom a notice is given in the
preceding article. The subject of tliis memoir,
having the misfortune to lose his father in early life,
was educated by his aunt Mrs. Turner, widow of one
of the ministers of the High Church of .Stirling.
While residing at this town, where he received the
rudiments of learning, he ap])eared as an officer in
the burgher cor])s raised in Februan.-, 1746, to defend
it against the forces of the young Chevalier. His
conduct on this occasion was worthy of his dis-
tinguished ancestor, from whose example he appears
to have derived that attachment to the jirinciples of
civil and religious lilierty which markecl his charac-
ter through life. The carbine and other arms which
he carried on the walls of .Stirling are ])reserved in
the mu>eum connecte<l with his institution at (ilas-
gow. He received the more advanced part of his
education at the college of tilasgow, where, in 1756,
he was aj)pointed professor of oriental languages,
being then in the thirtieth year of his age.

It was not in this s])here that Mr. .Vnderson was
destined to shine with greatest lustre. His mind had
a decided bent towards the exact sciences, and to the
illustration of the arts with which they are connected.
His translation, therefore, to tlie cliair of natural
philoso])hy, which took place in 1760, was highly
agreeable to him, and also most fortunate for the
world. While he took an early opportunity, after
this event, to fulfil an important ])rivate dutv, bv
repaying his aunt for the expensfs of his education,
he enterefl upon the business of his class with an
enthusiastic ardour of ajiplication, which wi- may
safely pronounce to have been without examjilc in
any Scottish university. .\ot contented with the
ordinary duty of delivering a course of kxtures -
though he ])erforme'l that duty in a mantier alone
.sufficient to ol)tain distinction lie was in<l(.fatigal)le
in studying and exem])lifying the applic.ition of
science to mechanical practice; visiting, for this
purpose, the worksho])S of arti/ans in the town, and
receiving, in return for the scientific doctrine which
he had to communicate, a fiill cjuivalent of exjjcri-
mental knowledge. The most estimable charaLtir-
istic of Professor .Anderson, was a liberal and dift'usivc
benevolence in regard to the instructifin of his race.
Under the inspiration <jf a feeling, which was in tli.it
a^'o more rare, and therefore more meritorious, than

it is at present, he instituted, in addition to his usual
class, which was strictly mathematical, one for the
working-classes and others whose pursuits did not
enable them to conform to the prescribed routine of
academical study, illustrating his precepts by experi-
ments, so as to render it in the highest degree
attractive. He continued to teach this anti-toga
class, as he called it, twice every week, during the
session, to the end of his life; and it would not be
easy to estimate the amount of good which he thus
rendered to his fellow-creatures. As an instance of
the liberal good sense by which he was governed in
his eminently useful scheme, it is related that a
mechanic having complained to his assistant, that he
had scarcely time, after leaving his work, to change
his dress before coming to the class, and having
suggested the propriety of the operatives being
allowed to attend without such change, Mr. Anderson
at once acceded to it. His was a mind too strongly
bent on mere usefulness to regard empty form.
Yet, as a lecturer, he is allowed to have himself
exhibited a surpassing elegance of manner. His
style was easy and graceful, his command of language
unlimited, and the skill and success with which his
manifold experiments were performed could not be
surpassed. He excited the interest and attracted
the attention of his pupils, by the numerous and
appropriate anecdotes with which he illustrated and
enlivened his lectures. Enthusiastic in his pro-
fession, his whole ambition and happiness consisted
in the dissemination of useful knowledge; and nothing
afforded him purer pleasure than hearing that any of
his pupils had distinguished themselves in the world.
The only distinct work which he published in con-
nection with his favourite science, was a valuable
one, entitled Institutes of Physics, which appeared
in 1786, and went through five editions during the
next ten years.

At the commencement of those political changes
in France which ended in such unhappy results,
Mr. Anderson, from his ardent and liberal character,
was among those who sympathized with the pro-
ceedings of the emancipated people. Previous to
that period, he had invented a species of gun, tlie
recoil of which was stopped by the condensation of
common air within the l)ody of the carriage. Hav-
ing in vain endeavoured to attract the attention of
the British government to this invention, he went to
Paris, in 1791, carrjing with him a model, which
he presented to the national convention. The
governing party in France at once perceived the
benefit which would be derived from this invention,
and ordered Mr. Anderson's model to be hung u]) in
their hall, with the following inscription over it —
"Tin-; (iiKT OK SciE.NCE TO LiiiEKTY." Whilst he
was in France, he got a six-]50under made from his
model, with which he made numerous experiments
in the neighbourhood of Paris, at -which the famous
Paul Jones, amongst others, was ]iresent; and who
gave his decided approbation of the gun, as likely
to ])rove highly useful in landing troops from boats,
or firing from the round tops or poojis of ships of
war. Mr. Anderson, at this period, took a keen
interest in the transactions which passed before his
eyes. He was present when Louis XVI. was
brought back from \'arennes; and on the 14th of
July, on the toj) of the altar of liberty, and in the
presence of half a million of Frenchmen, he sang
'/;• /Jeiirn with the Pishop of Paris, when the king
look the oath to the constitution, amen being said
to the ceremony by the discharge of 500 ])ieces of
artillery. .As the Emperor of Germany had drawn a
military cordon around the frontiers of France, to
prevent the introduction of French newspapers into

JOHN ANDERSON ROBERT ANDERSON.

41

Germany, he suggested the expedient of making
small balloons of paper, varnished with boiled oil,
and filled with inflammable air, to which newspapers
and manifestoes might be tied. 'I'his was accord-
ingly practised, and when the wind was favourable
for Germany, they were sent off, and descending in
that country, were, with their appendages, picked
up by the people. They carried a small (lag or
streamer, inscribed with a motto, of which the
following is a translation: —

*' O'er hills and dales, and lines of hostile troops, I float
maiestic,
Bearing the laws of God and Nature to oppressed men,
And bidding them with arms their rights maintain."

Mr. Anderson died, January 13th, 1796, in the
seventieth year of his age, and the forty-first of his
professorship, directing by his will, dated May 7th,
1795, ^'^^^ '^^ whole of his effects, of every kind,
should be devoted to the establishment of an educa-
tional institution in Glasgow, to be denominated
Anderson's University, for the use of the unacademi-
cal classes; so that, even while he was consigned to
the silent dust, he might still, by means of his
honourably acquired wealth, prove of service to those
whom he had benefited so much, during his own
life, by personal exertion. His will was carried into
effect on the 9th of June following, by the magistrates
granting a charter of incorporation to the proposed
institution. According to the design of the founder,
there were to be four colleges — for arts, medicine,
law, and theology — besides an initiatory school.
Each college was to consist of nine professors, the
senior professor being the president or dean. As
the funds, however, were inadequate to the plan, it
was at first commenced with only a single course of
lectures on natural philosophy and chemistry, by Dr.
Thomas Garnett, well known for his numerous
scientific and medical works, and also for his Tour
t/iroiigh the Ilii^hlanJs and part of the Western Isles
of Scotland. This course was attended for the first
year by nearly looo persons of both sexes. In
1798 a professor of mathematics and geography was
appointed. The splendid apparatus and library of
the founder, which were valued at ;i^3ooo, added
greatly to the advantages of the infant institution.
In 1799 Dr. Garnett, being appointed professor in
the Royal Institution at London, was succeeded by
the eminent Dr. Birbeck, who, in addition to the
branches taught by his predecessor, introduced a
familiar system of philosophical and mechanical
information to 500 operative mechanics, free of
all expense, thus giving rise to mechanics' institu-
tions. The .Andersonian Institution was placed, by
the will of the founder, under the inspection and
control of the lord-provost, and many other honour-
able persons, as ordinary visitors, and under the
more immediate superintendence of eighty-one trus-
tees, who are elected by ballot, and remain in office
for life. Since the first establishment of the univer-
sity, as it may very properly be called, it has gradually
been extended nearer and nearer to the original
design of the fiunder. There are now fifteen pro-
fessors, who deliver lectures on surgen,-, institutes of
medicine, chcmi>lry, practical chemistry, midwifery,
practice of me<licine, anatomy, materia medica,
}iharm.icy and dietetics, medical jurisprudence and
police, mathematics, natural ])hilosophv, botanv,
'•^^.^'^'t K^''-^''^P''>'t niodern languages, English litera-
ture, drawing and painting, i\;c. The institution
now possesses handsome and commodious buildings,
which belong to the corporation, and, among other
additions to its means of cultivating and illustrating
science, is an extensive museum of natural history-

and antiquities. Anderson's University must be con-
sidered a wonderful example of the amount of gfxxl
which one man, of no very great material resources,
may do for his kind. The private fortune of one
professor in the original college of Glasgow has here
been found sufficient to produce a new fount of learn-
ing, not unworthy to rank with the old, and of very
great practical utility to the public.

A posthumous work of Professor Anderson, en-
titled Observations on Roman Antiquities betu.ieen
the Forth and Clyde, appeared in 1 804.

ANDERSON, Robert, M.D., the biographer
of Smollett and Johnson, was bom on 7th of Jai.uary,
1750, and was the son of a feuar in the rural village
of Carnwath in Lanarkshire. He received the
earlier part of his education in his native place, and
in the adjacent village of Libberton; was subsecjuently
placed under the tuition of Mr. Robert Thomson,
master of the grammar-school of Lanark; and finally
studied in the university of Edinburgh, where he
commenced attendance upon the divinity class, with
the view of becoming a clergjman. He took the
degree of M.D. at St. Andrews in 1778. In his
early years, when pursuing his studies at Carnwath,
he could find but one congenial mind in the whole
of that rural district; this was an unfortunate yfiuth,
named James Grreme, the son of a neighbour, \\ ho,
after exhibiting considerable powers as a poet, died
in his twenty-second year, and whose reliques were
afterwards included by Dr. Anderson, more perhaps
through the influence of friendship than deliberate
taste, in his edition of the British Poets. Dr. Ander-
son first entered into practice as surgeon to the
dispensary of Bamborough Castle in Northumber-
land; he afterwards removed to Alnwick, where he
married Miss Gray, daughter of Mr. John Gray, a
relation of the noble family of that name. The
declining state of his wife's health, which rendered
a change of air necessary, induced him, in 17S4, to
remove to Edinburgh, where he ever afterwards
resided. He had here the misfortune to lose his
amiable partner, who sank under a consumption,
leaving him with three infant daughters. Dr.
-Vnderson having secured a small independence,
practised no more after this period, but engaged in
such literary avocations as he felt to be agreealjle t'o
his taste, and became the centre of an agreeable
coterie, in which the talents of many a youth of
genius were for the first time brought into notice.
About the year 1793 he began to prepare his edition
of the British Poets, which forms thirteen volumes,
large octavo, and appeared between the years 1795
and 1807. To the works of each poet is prefixed a
biographical memoir by Dr. Anderson. In 1793
he married for his second wife Miss Dale, daughter
of Mr. David Dale, schoolmaster in East Lothian.
.\ collection of the works of Smollett, by l)r. .Ander-
son, with a memoir prefixed, has gone through ei^ht
editions. To the last edition is atVixed a I:ighiy
characteristic likeness of the editor. The nien^'ir
has been published repeatedly in a distinct sli.i] e.
and is a very respectable production. Dr. .\n':er-o!i
also published a Life of Dr. .Siimnel je/: >:.■,':. :.■:.''':
Critical Obsci-tatioiis on his ITivks, whieh lia- j ."i--e>l
through several editions. For se\'ei:\l year- i'e;-re
the end of the eighteenth century. Dr. .\ii<;ei-:. was
editor of the B.dnibur.;h Ma^az:ih\ a r:\ai "t the
Scots ^[t^^az:ln\ more varied and lively in i> 'irMiis.
and which afforded him an opportunity ot I :;:-.!!g
forward the productions ot his young trie;'.>!-. 1 ;:>
work commenced in the year 17S4. .an! at the end
of 1S03 was incoqtorated with the .^■, . .V .I/,.-. ,.•:.■ ?.•■•■ .'
it w.is much indebted to its propriety 'r.Janxs >:l;ba!'.l.

<-

T. G. TORRY ANDERSON

WALTER ANDERSON.

editor of the Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, to Lord
Hailes, and other eminent literary characters.
Among the publications which Dr. Anderson gave
to the world, must be included his edition of the
Works of John Moore, M.D., ■zcith Memoirs of his
Life and U'ritim^s, Edinburgh, 1S20, 7 vols. 8vo;
and an edition of the poems of Robert Ulair, Eilin-
burgh, 1S26, l2mo. The great incident of Dr.
Anderson's literary life was his connection with the
commencement of the career of Thomas Camiibell.
When Campbell first visited Edinburgh in 1797,
being then in his twentieth year, he gained the
friendship of Dr. Anderson, who, on being shown a
copy of elegiac verses, written by him two years
before, when an obscure tutor in Mull, predicted
his great success as a poet. It was through Dr.
Anderson, in 179S, that Camjibell was introduced
to the circle of his distinguished literary associates in
Edinlnirgh; and he it was who encouraged him by
his friendly advice, and assisted him by his critical
acumen, in the jiublication of his celebrated poem,
the /'/i\r'i/res of Hope, for the high character of
which he had, previously to its ajipearance, pledged
his word to the pul)lic. In acknowledgment of his
friendship, the grateful jioet dedicated his work to
Dr. An<lerson. During the later years of his life,
this venerable author, though he indulged as much
as ever in literarj' society, gave no w^rk to the
public.

Asa literary critic. Dr. Anderson was distinguished
by a warm sensibility to the beauties of poetrj', and
by extreme candour. His character as a man was
marked by perfect probity in all his dealings, and
unshaken constancy in friendship. Ills manner was
lively and bustling; and from his long-continued
acquaintance with the literary world, he possessed
an unrivalled fund of that sjiecies of gossip and
anecdote which gives so much pleasure in Boswell's
Life of Johnson.

Dr. Anderson died of dropsy in the chest,
February 20, 1S30, in his eighty-first year.

ANDERSON. Rev. T. C. Torkv. This clerical
])oet. tlie son of the Rev. I'atrick Torry, D.D., titu-
lar Hishop of St. .\n(irews, Dunkeld, and Dunblane,
was born at I'eterhead on the 9th of July, 1805.
Having l)ecn taught the elements of learning at the
]iiri>h school of I'eterhead, he afterwards became a
student in .Mari>chal College, .Aberdeen, and the
university of Edinburgh. He was admitted into
holy orders in 1S27. as minister of St. John's Epis-
copal church. I'ortobello; afterwards became assis-
tant in St. (ieorge"s E])iscoi)al chapel, Edinburgh;
ami finally was transferred to the ministerial charge
of St. I'aid's Epi>copal church, Dundee. This
charge he was obliged to resign in 1855, in conse-
'juence of bad health; an<l after this period he resided
on his estate of Eawside, Kincardiiie~.hire, t(j wliich
he had succecdi-d in 1S50, in consequence of the
death of Dr. \'oung, his maternal uncle. Mr.
.Anfler^on died at .Alicrdeen on the 20tli of lune,
I.S56. He was three time-, married, and left at lii^
death a widow and six children. .Although he dili-
gently fultilled the duties of his sacred office, .Mr.
.Anderson was better known by his songs than hi-,
sermon^, some of which attained a wide popularitv,
especially those entitled "The .Araby Maiil," " The
.Maiden's Vow." and "I love the Sea." the music as
well as the words of the-e la>t two songs being lii-,
own com])ONition. It was a union of the musical
and poetical in the same mind, which, however
common among the poet^ of the classical, and niin-
Nirels of the medieval ages, is verv seldom foiiml
among the bards and song-makers of our own day,

and is therefore the more worthy of notice and com-
mendation. Mr. Anderson was also an extensive
C(mtributor to L'oetical Lllustrations of the Achieve-
ments of the Duke of Wellington and his Companions
in Arms, published in 1852.

ANDERSON, Walter, D.D. The era of this
gentleman's birth is unknown; he died at an advanced
age, July, 1800, after having been minister of the
l)arish of Chirnside for fifty years. He is a remark-
able specimen of that class of authors who, without
the least power of entertaining or instructing their
fellow-creatures, yet persist in writing and publishing
books, which nobody ever reads, and still, like the
man crazed by the lottery, expect that the next, and
the next, and the next will be attended with success.
Perhaps Anderson's cacoethes scribcfidi received its
first impulse from the following ludicrous circum-
stance. His parish comprehending the house of
Xinewells, he was often entertained there, in com-
]iany with the brother of the proprietor — the cele-
brated David Elume. The conversation having
turned one day on the success of Mr. Hume as an
author, Anderson said, "Mr. David, I dare say
other people might write books too; but you clever
fellows have taken up all the good subjects. When
I look about me, I cannot find one unoccupied."
Hume, who liked a joke upon an imsuspecting
clergj'man, said, "What would you think, Mr.
Anderson, of a history of Croesus, King of Lydia? —
that has never yet been written." Air. Anderson
was delighted with the idea, and, in short, "upon
that hint he wrotcP Li 1755 was published the
History of Crccsns, King of Lydia, in four parts; con-
taining Observations on the ancient notion of Destiny
or Dreams, on the origin and credit of the Oracles,
and the Principles upon which their Oracles were
defended against any attack. What is perhaps the
best part of the jest, the work was honoured with a
most serio-burlesque notice in the first Edinburgh
Kei'icw, then just started by Hume, Smith, Carlyle,
and other wits — the article being written, we have no
doubt, by the very man who incited the tudiappy
author to his task.

The LListory of Crcesits was also the subject of a
critique in the second number of the Critical A'eT'iczc,
which had then been just started in London by
Smollett. The article in the latter periodical liears
such evident marks of the pen of the distinguished
editor, and refers to such an extraordinary work, that
we shall make no apology for the following extracts.

After remarking that the volume has been chiefly
compiled from the episodes of Herodotus, that it
exhibits a miserable flatness of style, and that all the
facts scattered throughout its 235 pages might have
been related in three or four, the critic proceeds to
say — "We are apt to believe that this is the first
essay of some young historian, who has been more
intent ujion forming his style and dis])laying his
learning, than careful in digesting his jilan and com-
bining his materials; the subject is too meagre to
afford nourishment to the fancy or understanding;
and one might as well attemjn to build a first-rate
man-of-war from the wreck of a fishing-boat, as to
com]iose a regular history from such a scanty ])arccl
of iletarhed oliservations. The com])iler has been
aware of this deficiency, and has filled up his blank
]iaper with unnecessary argument, and a legion of
eternal truths, by way of illustration. What could
be more unnecessary, (or examjile, than a detail of
reasons for doubting the divinity or da'moniacism of
the ancient oracles? Who believes, at this time of
day, that they were either insjiired by the deity or
iiitluciiced by the tlevil? What can be more super-

WALTER ANDERSON WILLIAM ANDERSON.

fluous than a minute commentary and investigation
of the absunlities in the plea of the priestess, when
she was taxed with falsehood and equivocation?
But we beg the author's pardon; he wrote for readers
that dwell beyond the Tweed, who have not yet
renounced all commerce with those familiar spirits,
which are so totally discarded from this part of the
island. There is still a race of soothsayers in the
Highlands, derived, if we may believe some curious
antiquaries, from the Druids and Bards, that were
set apart for the worship of Apollo. The author of
the history now before us may, for aught we know,
be one of these venerable seers; though we rather take
him to be a Presbyterian teacher, who has been used
to expound apothegms that need no explanation."-

The History of Crcesus, King of Lydia, one of the
most curious productions recognized in the history
of literaty mania, is now extremely rare — not by
any means from the absorbing appreciation of the
public, but rather apparently from the very limited
extent of its first circulation.

The worthy author, though perhaps daunted a
little by the reception of his first attempt, in time re-
covered the full tone of his literary ambition; and he
next attempted a work of much larger compass, which
appeared in 1769, in two quarto volumes, under the
title of the History of France durin;^ the Reii:;ns of
Francis //. and Charles IX., to which is prefixed
a review of the General History of the Monarchy
from its origin to that period. The success of this
work was much like that of its predecessor ; yet in
1775 the author published a continuation in one
volume, under the title. The History of France, from
the commence/nent of the reign of Henry ///., and the
rise of the Catholic League, to the peace of Worms and
the establishment of the famous Edict of Xantes in the
reign of Henry IV. In 1783 appeared two further
volumes, embracing the history from the commence-
ment of the reign of Louis XIIL to the general peace
of Munster. But these continuous efforts were not
drawn forth by the encouragement of the public;
they were solely owing to the desperate cacoethes of
the worthy writer, which would take no hint from
the world — no refusal from fame. It is said that he
was solely enabled to support the expense of his
unrequited labour by a set of houses belonging to
himself in Dunse (too appropriate locality I), one of
which was sold for every successive quarto, till at
last something like a street of good habitable tene-
ments in that thriving town was converted into a
row of unrea(lal)Ie volumes in his library. "Dr.
Anderson, "says the Gentleman'' s Magazine, "displays
none of the essential qualities of historic writing, no
research into the secret springs of action, no discri-
mination of character, and no industry in accumulat-
ing and examining authorities. Even as a compiler
he is guided only by one set of materials which he
found in the French writers, and may therefore be
Lon-.ultcd l)y the English reader, as a collection of
their oj.inions, while he is highly censurable in not
having recourse to original papers and documents re-
>pectingtheatTairsof hisowncountrj-. His styleis uni-
formly tame, and defaced by colloquial barbarisms."

In a liicrLiry hi>tory of this deplorable character,
it is gratifying to find that one elfort was at length
judged worthy of some praise. This was a work
sub>equcnt to the above, entitled The Philosophy of
.Indent Creeee iinestigated. in its origin and progress,
f' the era ^ of its greatest cele/'rity, in the Ionian, Italic,
and .■Itheiiian Schools, n'lth remarks on the delineated
tystem of t'lcir founders. His principle in this work,
according to the authority ju>t quoted, a]->pears to
have iiecn " to sup]ily thedeficiencies in Mr. Stanley's
work, antl to give place to remarks upon the mean-

ing employed by the most eminent Grecian philo-
sophers, in support of their physical, theological, and
moral systems ; and to give a fuller and more con-
nected display of their theories and arguments, and
to relieve the frigidity of their bare details by inter-
spersing observations." In this work he displavs
much learning, and is in general both accurate and
perspicuous, although he is still deficient in the
graces of style. Perhaps it would have Ijcen mcjre
successful had it not appeared at the same time
with Dr. Enfield's excellent abridgment of Brucker's
History of Philosophy.

One of the last attempts of Dr. Anderson was a
pamphlet against the principles of the French Re-
volution. This being not only written in his usual
heavy style, but adverse to the popular sentiments,
met with so little sale that it could scarcely be said
to have been ever published. However the doctor
was not discouraged; adopting rather the maxim,
"contra audentior ito," he wrote a ponderous addi-
tion or appendix to the work, which he brought with
him to Edinburgh, in order to put it to the press.
Calling first upon his friend Principal Robertsf)n,
he related the whole design, which, as might be ex-
pected, elicited the mirthful surprise of the venerable
historian. "Really," said Dr. Robertson, "this is
the maddest of all your schemes — what I a small
pamphlet is found heavy, and you propose to lighten
it by making it ten times heavier ! Never was such
madness heard of!" "Why, why," answered Dr.
Anderson, "did you never see a kite raised by boys?'
"I have," answered the principal. "Then, you
must have remarked that, when you try to raise the
kite by itself, there is no getting it up : but only add
a long string of papers to its tail, and up it goes like
a laverock I" The reverend principal was completely
overcome by this argument, which scarcely left him
breath to reply, so heartily did he laugh at the in-
genuityof the resolute author. However, we believe,
heeventuallydissuaded Dr. Anderson from his design.

ANDERSON, William. This poet and mis-
cellaneous writer was bom in the end of December,
1805. He originally studied for the law, but insteail
of entering the profession of a lawyer, he made the
dangerous choice of authorship, and adhered to it
for the rest of his life. It was unfortunate that tlris
choice was made at so early a period, as his excel-
lent natural talents were not directed by a literary
education or extensive reading, by which he miglit
have won both distinction and success. Having
thrown himself into the tide with all the generous
enthusiasm of youth, he was borne along in its whirl,
antl in the career that awaited him it was much that
he was enabled to keep his head above water, and
educate his family for a life of respectaliility and
comfort. As a literary adventurer thus circum>tance(;.
he was ever)'thing by turns — editor or sub-ediinr I'l
newspapers, publi.-hers' literary assistant, conqiik-r
or author of histories and biograidiies, or occa>inn.i:!y
publishing a work at his own ri>k ; while lii> s]'l;eie
of ojieration in these ditTerent capacities was Mine-
times London, sometimes Edinburgh, and occasicn-
ally the provincial towns of England and Scitland.
Like many in a similar situation, he had ik^ iniie; er.-
dent choice either of locality for hi> rt-si'ici'.ce > r
subject for his pen, and in both ca>e> wa- .ir;i;c! t"
and fro by the re(]uiremenis (it tlie pre^s ir tr.e i;:-
gagement oi his ]iubli>her. But l)ra\ely ;.c \"-:g' x
out this battle of life fmm youth to ol,! a;.;e: rin>; lncp.
when his body was racked out of f. .mi ! y .t:: t\-
cniciating malady that had \\a>te'l \:'.\v. I'ir year-,
and when his mmd was cmbitterei ly eMr-:e.u:-
ring diiaj po:ntmcnt, he wai ;t;ll i:.iu-:;;-U.-, ^ti.l

44

ALEXANDER ARBUTHNOT JOHN ARBUTHXOT.

ready for a fresh attempt in authorship, and still
hopeful of the result. Even those who knew no-
thing of him save his indomitable perseverance, won-
dered that it could still make head against such ad-
verse circumstances. Visited at last by heart disease,
the inevitable consequence of a body so distorted by
rheumatism, he had nevertheless gone to London by
sea, when he died suildenly on the 2tl of .\ugust,
lS66, being a few days after his arrival there, and
was buried in the cemetery of Highgate.

The last and also the largest and best work writ-
ten by Mr. .\nderson, and the one througii which
his name will longest survive, is that called The Scot-
tish Xitlhut, publisheii by the Messrs. Lullarton,
Edinburgli, in three large volumes im|X'rial 8vo.
It is not only a biographical record of eminent Scots-
men, but a history of the Scottish clans and dis-
tingui>he<.l families, and contains a mass of valuable
information, which the author was em])loyed many
years in collecting. Li all his multifarious ]5rose
writings, although most of them were written for the
day and upon the spur of urgency, Mr. .Anderson's
style was always distinguished by its elegance and
correctness, its clearness and force. Under hajipier
circumstances, it was evident from these tiiat he
might have held a distinguishetl place in aulhorsliip.
In conversation his wit was remarkable, whether
telling a >tor\- or making an observation, and it as-
sumed every variety of character from the light
and comic to the caustic and severe. Poetry,
however, had been the chief object from the
beginning of Mr. .Anderson's literary affections, and
he only abandoned it with reluctance, when the ex-
jierience of years showed him that it was an unpro-
fitable resource, except to those who had leisure and
talent to reach the loftier summits of I'arnassus.
Mis chief poetical publicaticjns were a small vc^lume
of short poems and songs written in early life —
among which are some of high merit, so that they
have been published in some of our best popular col-
lections; and /,</;/ </j-<77/(' Lyrics, written in matured
life, and which he always regarded as the best of his
poetical productions.

ARBUTHNOT. Ai.kx andkr, an eminent divine
of the reign of James VI., son of tiie laird of
.\rbuthnot, was born in the year 1538. Having
studied langu.ages and i)hilos((])l)y in the university
of .\i)erdecn, ami civil law under the famous Cujacius
at K'lurgL-. in France, he took ecclesiastical orders,
and became in Imn own country a zealous sup])orter
of the Reformation. The period of his entrance into
public life was 1563. when <^)ueen Mary was in ])os-
se>'>:on of the kingdom. His eminent aijilities ?.w.\
ac<|uirements jjointed him out, young as he was, as a
leading man iMlheciuirch, and accordingly hu took a
j)rominent jiart in several (icneral .Asst-iibiics. In
that of 156S he was ai)pointed Ijv his brctlnen to
examine a work entitled ///,• Ai/I of t/ir h'omau
Church, which was ol)jccted to because it stvled the
king the head of the church. The result' of his
deliberations was an order to linssandv iir, the
l)rinter, not to jirint any mure books till lie ha,! ex-
punged this passage, and also taken awav a lewd
song which he had published at the en<l of :ui edition
of the I'salnis. Tlie assembly also ordered that
henceforth no book should be ]nil.li~hed till licenced
by their commission. '•Tims," it has been n--
marke 1, "the reformed cler.^y, who owed their
emancii).ation to the right of j.r.vate judgment, with
strange inconsistency obstructed tlie progress of free
inquiry by taking upon th.emselves the regulation of
the press."

Arbuthnot was soon after aj •pointed niini-.ter of

the parishes of Arbuthnot and Logie-Euchan, and
in 1569 he became principal of the university of
Aberdeen. He was a member of the General
Assembly held at St. Andrews in 1572, in which
strenuous o])position was made to a scheme of church-
government called the Book of Policy, which was
invented by certain statesmen, at the head of whom
was the Regent Morton, to restore the old titles of
the church, and by means of titular incumbents,
retain all the temporalities among themselves. In
the General Assemblies held at Edinburgh in 1573
and 1577, Arbuthnot was chosen moderator; and he
apjiears to have been constantly employed, on the
l^art of the church, in the commission for conduct-
ing the troublesome and tedious contest with the
regency concerning the plan of ecclesiastical govern-
ment to be adopted in Scotland. This commission,
under the name of the Congregation, at length
absorbed so much power, that the assembly was
left little to do but to approve its resolutions. The
]mrt which Arbuthnot took in these affairs gave
offence to James VI., and the offence was increased
by the publication of Buchanan's History, of which
Arbuthnot was tijc editor. It was therefore resolved
to restrain him by an oppressive act of aibitraiy
]5ower; and a royal order was issued, forbidding
him to absent himself from his college at Aberdeen.
The clergy, who saw thcrt the design of this order
was to dejirive thein of the benefit of Arbuthnot's
services, remonstrated: the king, however, remained
inflexible, and the clergy submitted. This persecu-
tion probably affected Arbuthnot's health and spirits;
for the next year, 1583, he fell into a gradual
decline and died. Arbuthnot appears to have
possessed much good sense and moderation, and to
have been well cpialified for public business. His
knowledge was various and extensive; he was a
patron of learning; and at the same time that he was
active in promoting the interests of the reformed
church, he contributed to the revival of a taste for
literature in Scotland. The only prose production
which he has left, is a learned and elegant Latin
work, entitled Orationcs de Orii:;inc ct Dignitate
Juris [Orations on the Origin and Dignity of the
Law], which was printed in 4to at Edinburgh in
1572. Tor some specimens of vernacular ])oetry,
supposed to be his composition, we may refer to
Irving's Lives of tlie Scottish Poets, and M'Crie's
IJfe of A iidrciv JlLeh'ille. His character has received
a lasting eulog)-, in the shape of an e])itaph, from
tile pen of his friend Melville. See Dclititc Poctaruvi
Scotoruiii, ii. ]). 120.

AUBUTHNOT, John, M.D., one of the con-
stellation of wits in the reign of Queen Anne, and
the most learned man of the whole body, was the
son of a .Scottish clergyman, who bore a near rela-
tionshi]^ to the noble family of this name and title.
lie was born at Arbuthnot in Kincardineshire, soon
after the Restoration, and received his education at
the uni\ersitv of Aberdeen, where he took the
degree of .M.l). The father of Arbuthnot was one
of those niendiers of the Church of .Scotland who,
not being able to comply with the Presbyterian
system introduced at the Revolution, were obliged to
resign tlieir charges. He retired to a small estate,
which h(_- ])ossessed bv inheritance; while his sons,
finding ilu-ir prosjiects blighted in their own couiitn-,
were under the necessity of going abroad to seek
their fortune. John carried his Jacobitism, his
talents, and his knowledge of physic to London,
uhere he at first subsisted as a teacher of mathe-
matics. 11;., first literary effort bore a reference to
tliia science: it was an Exaiuinatwn of Dr. Wood-

JOHN ARBUTHNOT.

45

ward's Account of the Deluge, a work which had
been published in 1695, and which, in Dr. Arbuth-
not's estimation, was irreconcilable with just philo-
sojjhical reasoning upon mathematical principles.
This publication, which appeared in 1697, laid the
foundation of the author's literarj' reputation, which
not Ion;,' after received a large and deserved increase
by his /Cssay on the Usefulness of Mathematical
Leariiinj:^. The favour which he acquired by these
publications, as well as by his agreeable manners
and learned conversation, by degrees introduced him
into practice as a physician. Being at Epsom when
Prince George of Denmark was suddenly taken ill,
he was called in, and had the good fortune to effect
a cure. The prince immediately became his patron,
and in 1709 he was appointed fourth physician in
ordinary to the queen (Prince (George's royal consort),
in which situation he continued till her majesty's
death in 1714- I" 1704 Dr. Arlnithnot had been
elected a member of the Royal Society, in conse-
quence of his communicating to that body a most
ingenious paper on the equality of the numbers of
the se.xes; a fact which he proved by tables of births
from 1629, and from which he deduced the reason-
able inference that polygamy is a violation of the
laws of nature. In 1 7 10 he was elected a member
of the Royal College of Physicians.

This was the happy period of Dr. Arbuthnot's
life. Tory principles and Torj' ministers were now
triumphant; he enjoyed a high reputation, a lucrative
practice, and a most honouraljle preferment; he
also lived in constant intercourse with a set of literary
men, almost the greatest who had ever flourished in
England, and all of whom were of his own way of
thinking in regard to politics. This circle included
Pope, Swift, Ciay, and Prior. In 17 14 he engaged
with Pope and Swift in a design to write a satire
on the abuse of human learning in every branch,
which was to have been executed in the humorous
manner of Cervantes, the original inventor of this
species of satire, under the history of feigned adven-
tures. -But the prosecution of this design was pre-
vented by tiie queen's death, which lost .Arbuthnot
his situation, and proved a death-blow to all the
political friends of the associated wits. In the
dejection which befell them, they never went farther
than an essay, chiefly written by Arbuthnot, under
the title of the First BooJk of the Memoirs of Marfiniis
Scriblerus. "Polite letters," says Warburton in his
edition of Pope's works, "never lost more than in
the defeat of this scheme, in the execution of wliich,
each of this illustrious triumvirate would have fiund
exercise for his own particular talents; besides con-
stant employment for those which they all had in
common. Dr. Arbuthnot was skilled in everything
which related to science; Mr. Pope was a master in
the tine arts; and Dr. Swift excelled in a knowledge
1)1 tiie world. Wit they had in equal measure; and
this so large, that no age perhaps ever pro(luce<l
three men to whom nature had more bountifully be-
.-toweil it, or art had brought it to higher perfection."'
We are told by the same writer that the Travels
of Gill! r:r TiwA \\\m Memoirs of a Parish Clerk Wiixc
at first intended as a branch of the Memoirs of
Scriblerus. In njiposition to what Warburton says
of tlie design, we may ]ire>ent what lolmson savs of
the execution. "These memoirs," says the doctor,
in his lite of Pojh', "extend only to the first ]\"irt of
a work projected in concert liy Pope, .'~^wift, and
Arbutlinot. Their iiurp<i^e was to censure the
abuse> of learning liy a tictitiou-. life of nn infatuated
scholar. Tliey were dispersed; the design never
was complete 1: and Warhurton laments its mis-
carriage, aj an evci'it xcry ili^a-truus to iv.lite letter-.

If the whole may be estimated by this specimen,
which seems to be the prfxluction of Arbuthnot,
with a few touches by Pojjc, the want of more will
not Ijc much lamented; for the fjUies which the
writer ridicules are so little practised, that they are
not known; nor can the satire Ix; understood but bv
the learned. He raises phantoms of absurdity, and
then drives them away. He cures diseases that
were never felt. For this reason, this joint pnxluc-
tion of three great writers has never attained anv
notice from mankind." With the opinion of Dr.
Johnson we entirely coincide, so far as the Scriblerus
is concerned; but we think that Arbuthnot was
unfortunate in the part of the design which he
selected, and that, in satirising more jialpable follies,
he might have been more successful. The success
of Swift, in ridiculing mankind in general in his
Gulli-L'er, is surely a sufficient reason, if no other ex-
isted, for the lamentation of Warburton.

At the death of the queen, when it pleased the
new government to change all the attendants of the
court, the immortal suflered with the mortal; Arl)uth-
not, displaced from his apartments at St. Jame^',
took a house in Dover street, remarking philosophi-
cally to Swift that he "hoped still to be able to keej)
a little habitation warm in town." His circumstances
were never so prosperous or agreeable after this
period. With the world at large, success makes merit
— the want of it the reverse; and it is perhaps im-
possible for human nature to think so highly of a man
who has been improperly deprived of some external
mark of distinction and honour, as of him who
wears it without so much desert. The wit, left to
his own resources, and with a rising family to
support, seems to have now lived in some little
embarrassment.

In 1 71 7 Arbuthnot, along with Pope, gave assist-
ance to Gay, in a farce entitled "Three Hours after
Marriage," which, strange to say, was condemned
the first night. A rival wit wrote upon this subject: —

" Such were the wags who boldly did adventure
To club a farce by tripartite indenture;
But let them share their dividend of prai-e.
And wear their own fool's cap instead of bays."

In 1722 Dr. Arbuthnot found it necessar}- for his
health to indulge in a visit to Bath. He was accom-
panied on this occasion by a brother who was a
banker at Paris, and whose extraordinaiy character
called forth the following striking description from
Pope: "The spirit of philanthropy, so hmg dead to
our world, seems revived in him: he is a ]>hilosopher
all fire; so warmly, nay so wiMly, in the right, that
he forces all others about him to be so too. and
draws them into his own vortex. He i> a star that
looks as if it were all on fire, but is all benignity,
all gentle and beneficial influence. If there be otlur
men in the world that woukl serve a friend. }et !:e
is the only one, I l)elieve, that could make even an
enemy serve a friend."' About this time, tlie I'.octi'r
thus described himself in a letter to Swifi: ••.V- l". r
your humble servant, with a great >tone in h> ri.:!:'.
kitlney, and a family of nu-n and w.,me;i to jh-ovkIc
for, he is a- cheerfid in public atT.Tir- a- ever. "

.Arbuthnot. in 1723. wa- cho-cn -eco:v! ccn-or o!
the Royal College of I'liyr-ician-; v.\ \:z- he u_..-
made an Elect, and had the honour to ;ii< r.- ui^c tl'.c
Harveian oration fir l!ie ycc.r. 1 r. 17-7 "■■~' "T"
]>eared his great and learned woik, <.:;;::; 1 .■■■•<
rf Aiieioit ("■.■;;/. ll\:\''':f.'. ,:;/./ .l/:",;.;;' . r- ■:.::;::./
and cxcmrlf.J .■>: /.v,;-.:/ l'::srr-.-f: :: - W- con-
tinued to pr.icti-e |)hy-:c with go...i i-: ■::.:.:.■ ••:i.Jir/\
diverted h> lei-iire hoin^ tiywr;:;:,^ i ,-; ■ r- -f w it
au'.i liumuur. Aino;;- ihc-c r^.v ; ^. v.\'^\.\:- v.^:' : i_.n(.,

45

JOHN ARBUTHNOT.

wliich appeared in 1731, in the shape of an epitaph
upon the infamous Colonel Charteris, and which we
shall present in this place as perhaps the most
f.ivourable specimen of Dr. Arhuthnot's peculiar vein
of talent: —

"Here continueth to rot the body of Francis
Charteris, who, with an inflexible constancy, and
inimitable uniformity of life, persisteil, in sjiite of
age and infirmilies, in the practice of every human
vice; excepting prodigality and hypocrisy; his in-
satiable avarice exempted him from the first, his
matchless impudence from the second. Xor was he
more singular in the undeviating pravity of his man-
ners, than successful in accumulating wealth; for,
without trade or profession, without trust of jjublic
money, and without bribe-worthy service, he ac-
quire<i. or more properly created, a ministerial estate.
He was the only ]>erson of his time who could cheat
with the mask of honesty, retain his jirimeval mean-
ness when possessed of ten thousand a year, and,
having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did,
was at last condenuied to it for what he could not
do. — OhI indignant reader! Think not Ids life use-
less to mankind I Providence connived at his exe-
crable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous
proof and cxamjile of liow small otimation is exor-
l)itant wealth in the sight of (jod, by his bestowing
it on the most unworthy of all mortals."'

Arbuthnot, about this time, wrote a verj' enter-
taining paper on the Altcrcalioits or Scolding of the
AtuUnts. In 1 732 he contributed towards detecting
an<l ])uni»hing the scandalous frauds and abuses that
had been carried on under the specious name of 'J'hc
C/iaritak'i Corporation. In the same year he pub-
])lished his Treatise on the Xatiire and Choice of Ali-
ments, which was followed, in 1733, by his Essay on
the Effects of Air on I/uman Eodies. lie is thought
to have been led to these subjects by the considera-
tion of his own case — an asthma, which, gradually
increasing wiili his years, became at length desper-
ate and incurable. \ little liefore his last publica-
tion, he had met witli a severe domestic affliction in
the l')>s of his son Charles, "whose life," he says in
a letter to .Swift, "if it had so ])leased God, he
would willingly have redeemed with his own." He
now retired in a state of great debility to Hampstead;
from whence, in a letter to l'o|)e, July 17th, 1734, he
gives the following philosophic, and we may add,
touching, account of his condilicjn: —

" I have little dnubi of your concern fjr nic, nor
of that of tlie lady yf)u mention. 1 have nothing to
repay my friend.-, with at present, but prayers and
good wishes. I have tlie satisfactiun to find that I
am as officiously served by my friends, as he that

' Tliis pnr.i;; .n of wickeilnt-ss, who was a native f.f Scotlaiul,
\s thii-s c!<;scriU.-.i l.y l',,pc. hut wi: hclicvc-. as in the tjiitaph
ilsclf. wilii iiui. h i:xa^^";rati..n. " I-ranui^ Charteris, a man
infamous f,r all vices. When ho was an en-.|;;n in the .'irjir.-.
he was rlrutnine'l out r,f the rejjirnent f.r a cheat; he was
Innishc'i linissels, anl tnrne'i <nit of (Ihent. on the .s.une
;icc unit. After a humlre'l Irieks at the K^i'iiiiiK-tahles, he
t .ok to Icniiin;; of n}oney at ex.rliitant interest, au.l on },reat
pcn.iltlcs. at;' innnlatin;; premium. inti;rest, .au'l capital i)ito .a
new capit-il. and sel/ni^ t la minute when the jiavnient hecame
(hie; in a w-.r.!. hy a constant altcntion to the vices, wants,
anj f 'Hies of niankinii, he .ici|iiire'l an immense fjrtune.
He was twice condemnc-l f .r n.pes an.l juriloned, hut the last
time not without imprisoiunent in .\ewy;itc. and lar^e (.onfisc;!-
tions. Hcdijdin .Scotl.ind in 17 u.a;;ed sivty-two. 'the populace-,
at his funeral, raised .a js're;it not, almost tore the l.oily out of
the coffin, and cist dead do;;s. ."ic, into t)ie v,r:i\-<- alon- u,th
it." \Vc may add that the mourners h.id to defend them^clvc-s
from the niolj with tlieir swi,rds. See '/ r,t,/iti,'ns /'/ l-'.iint-
iurgh. One rcmarkahlc feature of C:harteris' ch;iracter is not
;;cnerally known: thou;,;h a hullv and .1 coward, he h.ad his
li^'hting days; he would suffer himself t. Ihj kicked f .rrcfusiu.;
a fhallengc one day, and the next would acc.pt another and
]:ilt tiis man.

has thousands to leave in legacies; besides the assur-
ance of their sincerity. God Almighty has made
my distress as easy as a thing of that nature can be.
I have found some relief, at least sometimes, from
the air of this place. My nights are bad, but many
poor creatures have worse."

In a letter about the same time to Swift, he says
he came to Hampstead, not for life, but for ease.
That he had gained in a slight degree from riding ;
but he was "not in circumstances to live an idle
country life ;" and he expected a return of the dis-
order in full force on liis return in winter to London.
He adds, "I am at present in the case of a man that
was almost in harbour, but was again blown back
to sea; who has a reasonable hope of going to a
good jilace, and an absolute certainty of leaving a
very bad one. Not that I have any jjarticular
disgust at the world, for I have as great comfort in
my own family, and from the kindness of my friends,
as any man; but the world in the main displeaseth
me; and I have too true a presentiment of cala-
mities that are like to befall my country. However,
if I should have the happiness to see you before I die,
you will find that I enjoy the comforts of life with
my usual cheerfulness. . . . My family give
you their love and service. The great loss I sus-
tained in one of them gave me my first shock; and
the trouble I have with the rest, to bring them to a
good temper, to bear the loss of a father who loves
them, and whom they love, is really a most sensible
affliction to me. I am afraid, my dear friend, we
shall never see one another more in this world. I
shall, to the last moment, preserve my love and
esteem for you, being well assured that you will
never leave the ])aths of virtue and honour for all
that is in the world. This world is not W'orth the
least deviation from that w^ay," &c. In such a strain
did this tndy good man discourse of his own certain
and immediate death, which accordingly took place.
February, 1735, in his house, Cork Street, Burling-
ton Gardens, to which he had returned from Hamp-
stead at the approach of winter.

Arbuthnot's character was given by his friend
Swift in one dash: "He has more wit than we all
have, and more humanity than wit." " ArlDuthnot,"
says Ur. Johnson in his life of Pope, "was a man of
great comprehension, skilful in his profession, versed
in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature,
and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a
bright and active imagination; a scholar with great
brilliancy of wit; a wit who, in the crowd of life, re-
tained and discovered a noble ardour of religious zeal."
Lord Orrery has thus entered moremiinitely into his
character: "Although he was justly celebrated for
\\\\. and learning, there was an excellence in his
character more amiable than all his other qualifica-
tions, I mean the excellence of his heart. He has
shown himself equal to any of his contemporaries in
wit and vivacity, and he was sujierior to most men
in acts of humanity and benevolence. His very sar-
casms arc the satirical strokes of good nature: the\-
are like slaps in the face given in jest, the effects of
wliicli may raise blushes, l)ul no blackness will a]i-
]H.-ar after the blow. He laughs as j(n'ially as nn
attendant upon I'acchus, but continues as sober and
considerate as a rlisci])le of .Socrates."

'i'he wit, to which Swift's was only allowed the
second ])lace, was accompanied by a guileless heart,
aii<l tJK' most ]icrfect sim])Iicity of character. It is
rt-lated of its ])ossessor, that he used to write a hum-
orous account of almost every remarkable event
which fell under his observation, in a folio book,
which lay in his ]iarlour; but so careless was he about
\\\s writings after he was done with them, that,

JOHN ARMSTRONG.

47

while he was writing towards one end of this work,
he would permit his children to tear out the leaves
from the other, for their paper kites. This care-
lessness has prevented many of the works of Dr.
Arbuthnot from being preserved, and no correct list
has ever been given. A publication in two volumes,
8vo, at Glasgow, in 1 751, professing to be his Mis-
cellaneous Works, was said by his son to consist
chiefly of the compositions of other people. He was
s ) much in the habit of writing occasional pieces
anonymously, that many fugitive articles were erro-
neously attributed to him: he was at first supposed
to be the author of Robinson Crusoe. He scarcely
ever spoke of his writings, or seemed to take the
least interest in them. He was also somewhat in-
dolent. Swift said of him, that he seemed at first
sight to have no fault, but that he could not walk.
Besides this, he had too much simplicity and worth
to profit by the expedients of life: in Swift's words,

" He knew his art, but not his trade."

Swift also must be considered as insinuating a certain
levity of feeling, with all his goodness, when he says,
in anticipation of his own death,

" Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay
A week, and Arbuthnot a day I"

though the haljitual cheerfulness of his disposition
may have been all that the poet had in his eye.
The only other work ascertained as Arbuthnot's,
besides those mentioned, is the celebrated Ilistorv
of John Bull, a political allegory, which has had
many imitations, but no equal. He also attempted
poetr)', though without any particular effort. A
philosophical poem, of his composition, entitled
" rXQei 2:EATT0N" [Know Yourself], is printed
in Dodsley's Miscellanies. I f e left a son, George,
who was an executor in Pope's will, and who died
in the enjoyment of a lucrative situation in the ex-
chequer oflke towards the end of the last centur)-;
and a daughter, Anne, who was honoured with a
legacy by Pope. His second son, Charles, who died
before himself, had been educated in Christ Church
College, Oxford, and entered into holy orders.

ARGYLE. .See Campbell.

ARMSTRONG, John, M.D., author of the
well-known poem entitled The Art of Presenung
Health, was born, about 1709, in the parish of
Castleton, Roxburghshire, where his father and
brother were successively ministers. He might
almost be styled a poet by right of birthplace, for
the parish of Castleton is simply the region of
Liddesdale, so renowned for its heroic lays, the
records of deeds performed by the Border reivers,
among whom the family of the poet bore a distin-
guished rank. The rude and predatory character
of this (li>irict had, however, jiassed away l)efore
tlie commencement of the eighteenth centur\-; and
young Armstrong, though his lullabies were no
doubt those fine ol<l i)all.-ids which have since been
published by Sir Walter Scott, seems to have drawn
from them but little of his inspiration. It was .is
yet the fashion to look upon legendary verses as only
fit for nurses an<i children; and nothing was thought
worthy of the term ])oetry, unless it were presented
in trim artificial langii.ige, after the manner of some
distinguished classic writer. It is therefore bv no
means surprising that .Armstrong, though born and
cradled inalancl full of beautiful traditionarv* jioetn-,
looked upon it all, after he had become an eilucateil
man, as only Doric trasli. and found his Tcni]>e
in the bowers of Twiekenliani instead of the lor.clv
heaths of Liddesdale.

Being educated for the medical profession at the
university of Edinburgh, under the elder Monro,
Armstrong, in 1732, took his degree as M.D. with
much reputation, the subject of his treatise being
7'abes I'urulenta. He had ere this period addicted
himself to the composition of verses. We are in-
formed that, to relieve the tedium of a winter spent
in "a wild romantic country" — probably Liddcs<lale
— he wrote what he intended for an imitati<jn of
Shakspeare, but which turned out to resemble
rather the poem of Winter, then just published by
Thomson. The bard of the Seasons, hearing of
this composition, which so strangely and so accitlent-
ally resembled his f)wn, procured a sight of it bv
means of a mutual friend, and, being much jileaseii
with it, brought it under the notice of .Mr. David
Mallet, Mr. Aaron Hill, and Dr. Young, all of
whom joined with him in thinking it a work of
genius. Mallet even requested the consent of the
author to its publication, and undertook that duty,
though he afterwards gave up the design.

Armstrong was probably led by this flattering
circumstance to trj' his fortune in London, where his
countrymen Thomson and Mallet had already gained
literary distinction. In 1735 he is found publishing,
in that capital, a humorous attack upon empirics, in
the manner of Lucian, entitled^;/ Essay for Abridg-
ing the Study of Physic, to which is added, A Dialogue
betwixt Hygeia, ]\Iercury, and Pluto, relating to the
Practice of Physic, as it is managed by a certain
illustrious Society; and an epistle from Usbeck the
Persian to Joshua Ward, Esq. The essay, besides
its sarcastic remarks on quacks and quackery, con-
tains many allusions to the neglect of medical edu-
cation among the practising apothecaries; but the
author had exhausted his wit in it, and the dialogue
and epistle are consequently flat and insi])id. In
1737 he published a serious professional piece.
styled A Synopsis of the History and Cure of tin
Venereal Disease, 8vo, inscribed in an ingenious
dedication to Dr. Alexander Stuart, as to "a person
who had an indisputable right to judge severely fif
the performance presented to him." He probably
designed the work as an introduction to practice in
this branch of the medical profession; but it was
unfortunately followed by his poem entitled 7 hi
Economy of Lore, which, though said to have l)een
designed as merely a Inirlesque ujion certain didactic
writers, was justly condemned for its wann and
alluring pictures, and its tendency to inflame the
passions of youth. It appears by one of the "cascs
of literar}- property," that Andrew Millar, the book-
seller, paid fifty pounds for the cojiyright of th:s
poem; a sum ill-gained, for the work greatly dim-
inished the rcputati(jn of the author. After it lir.l
passetl through many editions, he published (>ne, :n
1768, in which the youthful luxuriances that linl
given offence to better minds were carefully prune'!.
Hut the otTence had l)een already jierpetrateii, ?^:.':
it was too late to undo it.

In 1744 Dr. .\rmstning made -^'ine amende !" r
this iiKliscretion, h)- ])ulilishing 7>)e .Irt cj J^r,:'--
ing Health, a didactic j^oein in hi ink verse, exteni:-
ing through four books, each of wliiih contains ,■
particular l>raiich of the sul>iect. This very nur;-
torious work raised liis re]uit.-;tii 'ii t> a heiglii wi:', :.
his subsequent e'Vur;- ,-carcely si-.-t.-iinci. It -
written in a taste which wi.nilil not iV'W lie C' :'.-;• :i. re ;
very pure or elegant ; hut yet, when tliesuhn: ."i.i
the age are considered, there is ania/-ii^L;ly l.fi.e ;■'
lie condemned. Dr. Warton lias lu-tly ren.aike ;
the refined terms in wliicli the i">et. ,~:t ;Iie c:;d "! :• ~
third IvH.k, lias described an Iji-i.-h ;.:a^;:e. t" the
, tV.'teenth ceritury. ei.t.tled "llie swe.-.;;:.g -ic.^;.i.--.

48

JOHN ARMSTROXC:.

"There is a classical correctness and closeness of
style in this poem," says Dr. Warton, "that are tnily
admirable, and the subject is raised and adorned by
numberless poetical images." Dr. Mackenzie, in his
History of Health, bestowed similar praises on this
poem, which was indeed everywhere readand admired.

In 1741 Armstrong solicited the patronage of Dr.
Bircli, to be appointed physician to the llect then
about to sail for the West Indies; but he does nitt
seem to have obtained the object of his desire. In
1746, when established in reputation \is\\\'i Art of
Prcsen-'.Hi; Htaith, he was appointed one of the
physicians to the hospital for lame and sick soldiers
ix-hind Buckingham House. In 175 1 he published
his poem on Bcitei'olcnci; in folio, a prtxluction which
seems to have come from the heart, and contains
sentiments which could have been expressed with
ct]ual ardour only by one who felt them. His Taste,
an EptstU tea Youit^ Critic, 1753, 4to, is a lively and
spirited imitation of Pope, and the first production
in which Armstrong began to view men antl manners
with a splenetic eye. His next work was less meri-
torious. It was entitled Skt-tc/ws or Essays on I 'arioiis
Sufijcvts, and appeared under the fictitious name of
Lancelot Temiile, Ksq. The critical cxaniinators
of Dr. Armstrong's merits allow to this work tlie
credit of exhibiting much humour and knowledge of
the world, but find it deformed by a perjK-tual flow
of affectation, a struggle to say smart tilings, and,
above all, a disgusting repetition of vulgar oaths and
exclamations — forms of expression to which the poet,
it seems, was also much addicted in conversation.
In some of these sketches, Armstrong is said to have
had assistance from the notorious John Wilkes, with
whom he lived in habits of intimacy; but it is certain
that the contributions of this gentleman cannot have
been great, as the work is mucli inferior to the
literary style of the demagogue of Ayleslnir}', who,
whatever might be his moral failings, is allowed to
have had a chaste clas?.ical taste, and a pure vein of
humour.

Armstrong had sufficient professional interest in
1760 to oi)tain the appointment of physician to tlie
army in Germany. From that country he wrote
/)i!y, a Poem, addressed as an epistle to John Wilkes,
Esij. This lively ]iiece, which professes to embody
an account of all the proper indulgences, moral and
physical, of twenty-four liours, was, it is said, pub-
li>lied in an imiK-rfect shape, by some clandestine
editor. It was never adtled to tlie collected works
of Dr. Armstrong till Dr. Anderson admitted it into
hi-, edition of the Jyritish Poets. After the jieace of
1763, Dr. .\rm>trong returned to London, and re-
sumed his practice, but with no e.ager desire of iii-
crea-iing the moderate conijietency he now enjoyed.
He continued after tliis period ratlier to an.Uic than
to exert him-.elf in literary productions, chietlv s|)end-
ing his time in the society of men of wit and taste
like iiim>elf In 1771 he made a tour into france
and Italy, in conijiany witli the ttlehrated Lusi'li,
who survived lijm for nearly fifty years, and always
>poke higliiy of Dr. .Armstrong's amiable character.
In Italy lie took a temler farewell of liis friend
Smollett, to whom he was much attached, and wiio
elied soon after. On returning home he pid)lisliecl
an account of his travels, under the name (jf /.nine-
lot Temple.

The latter years of Dr. Armstrong's life were
embittered by one of those ([uarrels which, arising
between pcr>ons fjrmerly much attached, aie at
once the most envenomed and the most productive
of uneasiness to the jjarties. In his poem of Day,
he had asked, among other things,

" What cra;ry scribbler reigns the iircscnt wii?"

which the poet Churchill very properly took to him-
self, and resented in the following passage in his
poem of 'Phe Journey: —

" Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of sense,
Read musty lectures on Benevolence;
Or con the pages of his gaping Day,^
Where all his former fame was thrown away,
Where all but barren labour was forgot,
And the vain stiffness of a lettered Scot;
Let them with Armstrong p.ass the term of light.
Hut not one hour of darkness; when the night
Suspends this mortal coil, when memory wakes,
Wlien for our past misdoings conscience takes
A deep revenge, when by reflection led
She draws his curtains, and looks comfort dead,
Let every muse be gone; in vain he turns.
And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns,
A more than Etna in his coward breast.
And guilt, with vengeance armed, forbids to rest;
'though soft as plumage from young Zephyr's wing.
His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring;
Ingratitude hath planted daggers there,
No good man can deserve, no brave man bear."

We have no hesitation in saying that this severe
satire was not justified either by the offence which
called it forth or by the circuinstances on which it
was founded. Wilkes, the associate of Churchill,
had lent money to Armstrong on some occasion of
]:)eculiar distress. When the attacks of Wilkes upon
Scotland led to animosities between the two friends,
it was not to be expected that the recollection of
a former obligation was necessarily to tie up the
natural feelings of Dr. Armstrong, and induce him
to submit rather to the certain charge of meanness
of spirit, than the possible imputation of ingratitude.
Neit' er could Wilkes have fairly expected that the
natural course of the quarrel was to be stayed by
such a submission on the part of his former friend.
It would have been equally mean for the obliged
party to have tendered, and for the obliging party
to have accepted, such a submission. There can be
no doubt, therefore, that Dr. Armstrong, in giving
way to resentment against Wilkes, was chargeable,
properly, with no blame except that of giving way
to resentment; and if it is to be supposed, from the
character of the poet in respect of irritability, that
the resentment would have taken place whether
there had been a debt of kindness standing undis-
charged between the parties or not, we cannot really
see how this contingent circumstance can enhance
his offence.

There is unfortunately too great reason to su]i]50sc,
that if the obligation tended to increase the blame
of either parly, it was that of Wilkes, who, from
almost incontestable evidence, ajipears to have made
a most ungenerous use of the advantage he had ac-
quired over his former friend. Not only must he bear
a ])ortion of the guilt of Churchill's satire, which
could have only been written as a transcri)>t of his
feelings, and with his sanction, but he stands almost
certainly guilty of a still more direct and scurrilous
attack u])on Dr. Armstrong, which a]i]ieared in a
much more insidious form. This ^\•as a series oi
articles in the well-known Public Adi'ertiscr, com-
mencing willi a letter signed J)ies, whicli appeared
to proceed from an enemy of the patriot, but, in the
ojiinion of Dr. Armstrong, was written by the ])atriot
Inmself

.\rnistrf)ng died at his house in Kussel Street,
('')vent (ianlen, September 7, 1779, in consequence
of an aeciilental contusion in his thigh, received
while getting into a carriage. He was found, to the
siir])rise of the world, to have saved the sum of
;^2000 (uit of his moderate income, which for many

' 'Wn-. ))'n;m was fall of l.irgj hiatus iUliplicd by asteriiks.

HUGO ARNOT.

49

years had consisted of nothing more than his half-
pay.

Dr. Armstrong was much beloved and respected
by his friends for his gentle and amiable dispositions,
as well as his extensive knowledge and abilities; but
a kind of morbid sensibility preyed upon his temper,
and a languid listlessness too frequently interrupted
his intellectual efforts. With Thomson's Castle of
fndolctice he is appropriately connected, both as a
fiijure in the piece and as a contributor to the verse.
l"he following is his portraiture:—

With him was sometimes joined in silent walk

(Profoundly silent -for they never spoke ,
One shyer still, who quite detested talk;

Oft stung by spleen, at once away he broke.
To groves of pine, and broad o'ershadowing oak,

There, inly thrilled, he wandered all alone.
And on himself his pensive fury wroke:

He never uttered word, save, when first shone
The glittering star of eve—' ' Thank heaven! the day is done 1"

His contributions consist of four stanzas descriptive
of the diseases to which the votaries of indolence
finally become martyrs.

The rank of Dr. Armstrong as a poet is fixed by
his Art of Pn-scrvini^ Health, which is allowed to be
among the best didactic poems in the language. It
is true this species of poetry was never considered
among the highest, nor has it been able to retain its
place among the tastes of a modern and more refined
age. Armstrong, however, in having improved
upon a mode of composition fashionable in his own
time, must still be allowed considerable praise.
"His style," according to the judgment of Dr. Aikin,
"is distinguished by its simplicity — by a free use of
words which owe th'eir strength to their plainness —
by the rejection of ambitious ornaments, and a near
approach to common phraseology. His sentences
are generally short and easy; his sense clear and
obvious. The full extent of his conceptions is taken
in at the first glance; and there are no lofty mysteries
to be unravelled by a repeated perusal. What keeps
his langiiage from being prosaic, is the vigour of his
sentiments. lie thinks boldly, feels strongly, and
therefore expresses himself poetically. When the
•subject sinks, his style sinks with it; but he has for
the most part excluded topics incapable either of
vivid description or of the oratory of sentiment.
He had from nature a musical ear, whence his lines
are scarcely ever harsh, though apparently without
much study to render them smooth. On the whole,
it may not be too much to assert, that no writer in
blank verse can be found more free from stiffness and
affectation, more energetic without harshness, and
more dignified without formality."

ARNOT, Ilrr.o, a historical and antiquarian
writer of tlie eighteenth century, was the son of
a merchant and ship-jiroprietor at Leith, where he
was l)orn, December 8th, 1749. His name originally
was I'ollock, which he changed in early life for
.\rnot, on falling heir, through his mother, to the
estate of H.ilcorino in Fife. As "Hugo Arnot of
IJalcornio, I'.-q.." he is entered as a member of the
Kaculty of .Vdvocates, December 5, 1772, when ju^t
about to complete his twenty-third year. Previous
to this period he had had the misfortune to lose his
father. Another evil which befell him in early life
was a settled a'-thma, the result of a severe cold
which he caught in his fifteenth year. As this dis-
order was always aggravated by exertion of anv kind,
it became a serious ohstniction to his progress at the
bar: some of his jileading-^. nevertheless, were mucli
admired, and obtained for him the ajiplause of the
bench. Perhaps it was this interruption of his ]iro-

VuL. I.

fessional career which caused him to turn his atten-
tion to literature. In 1779 apix-ared \\\s History 0/
Edinburgh, I vol. 410, a work of much research,
and greatly superior in a literary ]>oint of view to
the generality of local works. The styk* of the
historical part is elegant and epigrammatic, with
a vein of causticity highly characteri^^tic of the
author. From this elaborate work the author is
said to have only realized a few pounds of ))rofit;
a piratical impression, at less than half the price,
was published almost simultaneously at Dublin, and,
being shipped over to .Scotland in great quantities,
completely threw the author's edition out of the
market. A bookseller's seeoiid edition, as it is called,
appeared after the author's death, being simply the
remainder of the former stock, embellishe«l with
plates, and enlarged by some additions from the j>en
of the publisher, Mr. Creech. Another edition was
published in 8vo, in 1817.

Mr. Arnot seems to have now lived on terms of
literar)' equality with those distinguished literary and
professional characters who were his fellow-towns-
men and contemporaries. He did not, however, for
some years, publish any other considerable or acknow-
ledged work. He devoted his mind chiefiy to local
subjects, and sent forth numerous pamphlets and
newspaper essays, which had a considerable effect in
accelerating or promoting the erection of various
public works. The exertions of a man of his public
spirit and enlarged mind, at a time when the capital
of Scotland was undergoing such a thorough reno-
vation and improvement, must have been of material
service to the community, both of that and of all
succeeding ages. Such they were acknowledged to
be by the magistrates, who bestowed upon him the
freedom of the city. We are told that Mr. Arnot.
by means of his influence in local matters, was able
to retard the erection of the South Brhf^e of Ediii-
burgh for ten years — not that he objected to such an
obvious improvement on its own account, but only
in so far as the magistrates could devise no other
method for defraying the expense than by a tax upon
carters; a mode of liquidating it which Mr. Arnot
thought grossly oppressive, as it fell in the first place
upon the poor. lie also was the means of prevent-
ing for several years the formation of the present
splendid road between Edinburgh and Leith, on
account of the proposed j)lan (which was afterwards
unhappily carried into effect) of defraying the expense
by a toll; being convinced, from what he knew of
local authorities, that, if such an exaction were once
established, it would always, on some pretext or
other, be kept up.

In 1785 Mr. Arnot published A CoILrtiou rf
Celebrated Criminal Trials in Scotland, 7cith Histeri-
eal and Critieal Remarks, I vol. 4to; a work of ]ier-
haps even greater research than his History oj I-.dni-
burgh, and written in the same acutely metajihy^ical
and epigrammatic style. In the front <.if thi> vohup.e
appears a large list of subscribers, embracing almo-t
all th J eminent and considerable person^ in Scotlaiiil._
with many of those in England, and testifying ot_
course to the literary and personal rc^jiectaliility oi
Mr. Arnot. This work appeared without a ]".;!'-
lisher's name, probably for some rea-on cor.r.ectei
with the following circumstance. < )\v:!ig jHvh.''.]-
to the unwillingne-s of the author to all' iw a >\:i:;cier.t
profit to the booksellers, the whole 1>. -iy ot ti.at
trade in Edinburgh refu>ed to let tlie >ui -cri| :;■ -n
pay)ers and pro^ju^ctuses hang in tluir -r.i'!-: .'-r
which reason the author anu'vancc'l. I'y ir.t,u> ot an
advertisement in the new-paper-, tliat tiu-e r.rt.Lit-
might lie >een in the cotTee-b' 'U-e-. Mr. .\r;i"l re-
ceived the sum of -ix luilidred po;;:i(I> ! •r \\v: c oie^

so

HUGO ARXOT-

SIR ROBERT AYTOX.

sold of this work, from which he would have to pay
the expenses of printing a tliin quarto: it thus hap-
pened that what was rather the least laborious of his
two works was the most profitable.

Mr. Arnot only sur\'ived the publication of his
Criminal Trials about a twelvemonth. The asthma
had ever since his fifteenth year been making rapid
ailvances upon him, and his person was now reduced
almost to a shadow. While still young, he carried
all the marks of age, andaccortlingly the traditionarj'
recollections of the historian of Ktlinburgh always
))oint to a man in the extreme of life. Perhaps no-
thing could indicate more expressively the miserable
state to which Mr. Arnot was reduced by this disease,
than his own halfdudicrous, half-pathetic exclama-
tion, on being annoyed by the bawling of a man
selling sand on the streets: "The rascal I" cried
the unfortunate invalid, "he spends as much breath
in a minute as would ser\e me for a month I" Among
the portraits and caricatures of the well-known John
Kay may be found several faithful, though somewiiat
exaggerated, memorials of the emaciated i^erson of
Hugo Arnot. As a natural constitutional result of
this disease, he was exceedingly /leii'oits, and liable
to be discomposed by the slightest annoyances: on
the other hand, he possessed such ardour and intre-
pidity of mind, that in youth he once rode on a
spirited horse to the end of tiie ])ier of Leith, while
the waves were dashing over it and every beholder
expected to see him washed immediately into the sea!
<)n another occasion, having excited some hostility
by a political pamphlet, and being summoned by an
.anonymous foe to ajipcar at a j^articular hour in a
lonely }iart of the King's Park, in order to fight, he
went and waited four hours on the spot, thus perilling
his life in what might have been the ambuscade of a
deadly enemy. By means of the same fortitude of
character he beheld the gradual ap]>roach of death
with all the calmness of a Stoic philosopher. The
m.agistrates of Leith had acknowledged some of his
public services by the ominous compliment of a piece
i>{ ground in their churchyard ; and it was the
recreation of the last weeks of Mr. Arnot's life to go
every day to observe the prfjgress made by the work-
men in prejjaring tiiis place for his own recc]5tion.
It is related that he even expressed considerable
anxiety le><t his demise should take ])kace before the
melancholy work shoulil be completed. lie died
Novend)er 20th, 17S6, when on tlie point of com-
pleting his thirty-seventh year; that age so fatal to
men of genius that it may almost be styled their
climacteric. He was interred in the tomb fitted up
by himself at .South Leilh.

Besides his historical and local works, he had
puljlished, in 1777, a fancifiil metapliysical treatise,
entitled Xothiii;;, which was originally a ]iaper read
before a \\ ell-known (h.-liating-tiul) styled the Specu-
lative Society; being probably suggested to him bv
the poem of the I-Larl of KuchesUr on the equally
impalj)able sui)ject of S/!,>ir,\ If any disagreeable
reflectifin can rest on .Mr. .ArnoTs mcmorv for the
free sco])e he has given to his niinil in this little
essay — a freedom saiictioneil, if not exc\isL'd, by the
taste of the age -he nnist be lii.-M to have made all
the amends in his jiowcr by the jiroprii-t v of his
deportment in later life; when lie entered heartily
and regularly into the observances of the Scot-
tish I'.piscojial communion, to which Ik- originally
belonged. If .Mr. .\rnot was anything decidedly in
politics, he was a Jacobite, to which paity he be-
longed by descent and by religion, and also perhaps
by virtue of his own peculiar turn of miml. In
modern politics he was quite independent, judging
all men and all measures bv no other standard tlian

their respective merits. In his professional character
he was animated by a chivalrous sentiment of honour
worthy of all admiration. He was so little of a
casuist, that he would never undertake a case unless
he were j^erfectly self-satisfied as to its justice and
legality. He had often occasion to refuse employ-
ment which fell beneath his own standard of honesty,
though it might have been profitable, and attended
by not the slightest shade of disgrace. On a case
being once brought before him, of the merits of
which he had an exceedingly bad opinion, he said
to the intending litigant, in a serious manner, " Pray,
what do you suppose me to be?" " Why," answered
the clietit, " I understand you to be a lawyer." " I
thought, sir," said Arnot sternly, " you took me for a
scoundrel." The litigant, though he perhaps thought
that the major included the minor proposition,
withdrew abashed. Mr. Arnot left eight children,
all very young; and the talent of the family appears
to have revived in a new generation, viz. in the
person of his grandson, Dr. David Boswell Reid,
whose ElcDiotts of Chemistry has taken its place
amongst the most useful treatises on the science,
and who was selected by government, on account of
his practical skill, to plan and superintend the ven-
tilation of the new houses of parliament, in the
prosecution of which object he for several years
conducted the most costly and prolonged, if not the
most successful, experiment of the kind ever made.

AYTON, Sir Robert, an eminent poet at the
court of James VI., was a younger son of Andrew
Ayton of Kinaldie, in Fife, and was born in the
year 1570- From the registers of St. Andrews uni-
versity, it appears that he was incor]:)orated or en-
rolled as a student in St. Leonard's College, De-
cember 3, 1584, and took his inaster's degree, after
the usual course of study, in the year 1588. Sub-
sequently to this, he resided for some time in France;
whence, in 1603, he addressed an elegant panegyric
in Latin verse to King James, on his accession to
the crown of England, which was printed at Paris
the same year; and this panegyric had no doubt
some influence in securing to the author the favour
of that monarch, by whom he was successively ap-
pointed one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber,
and ]3rivate secretary to his queen, Anne of Denmark,
besides receiving the honour of knighthood. He
was, at a later period of his life, honoured with the
a]ipointment of secretary to Henrietta Maria, (piecn
of Charles I. It is recorded on Ayton's funeral
monument, as a distinction, that he had been sent
to Germany as ambassador to the emperor, with a
work published by King James, which is supposed
to have been his Apolo;^v for the Oatli of Alli-i^nauce.
\i this conjecture be correct, it must have been in
1609, when his majesty acknowleilged a work pub-
lished anonymously three years before, and inscribed
it to all the crowned heads of Euro]5e. During
Ayton's residence abroad, as well as at the court of
England, he lived in intimacy with ati'l secured the
esteem (jf the most eminent persons of the day.
"lie was acciuainted," says .Aubrey, "with all tlie
wits of his time in luigland; he was a great acquaint-
ance of Mr. Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury, wlumi
Air. Ilolihes told me he made use of, together with
lien Joiison, for an i\ristarchus, wlien he made his
e]iistle dedicatory for his translation of Thucyiiides,''
1 o this information A\e may add, as a proof of this
respect on the ])art <_)f Ben Jonson, that in his con-
versations with Drummond of Ilawlhornden, he
said, "Sir Robert .Ayton loved him (Jonson) dearly."

Sir Robert -Ayton died at London, in March,
1637-S, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. He lies

WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUX.

51

buried in the south aisle of the choir of Westminster
Abbey, at the corner of King Henry V.'s Chapel,
under a handsome monument of black marble, erected
by his nephew, David Ayton of Kinaldie; having his
bust in brass gilt, which has been preserved, while
that of Henry, the hero of Agincourt (said to have
been of a more precious metal), has long since dis-
appeared. The following is a copy of the inscrip-
tion:

M. S.

Clarissimi omnigenaq. virtute et cniditione, pr^Esertim
Poesi urnatlssiini equitis, Domini Roberli Aitoni, ex antiqua
ct illustri gente Aitona, ad Ca.struin Kinnadinum apud Scotos,
uriundi, qui a Screnissimo R. Jacobo in Cubicula Interiora
admissus, in Germaniam ad Irap'.Tatorem, Imperiiq. Principes
cum libello Rogio, Regise authoritatis yindice, Legatus, ac
primum Annx, demum Marine, serenissimis Britanniarum
Keginis ab epistolis, consiliis et libcllis supplicibus, nee non
Xenodochio S" Catherinje prajfectus. Anima Crealoris
rcddita, hie depositis mortalibus cxuviis secundum Redeinp-
toris advcntum expectat.

Carolum linquens, repetit Parentem
Et valedicens Marise revisit
Annam et Aulai decus, alto Olympi
Mutat Honorc.

Hoc devoti gratiq. animi
Testimonium optinio Patruo
Jo. Aitonus M L P.
Obiit Ccelebs in Regio Albaula
Non sine maximo Honore omnium
Luctu et Mftrore, .-Ktat. sua; LXVIII.

Salut. Humans M.UCXXXVIII.

AIUSARUM UECUS HIC, PaTRIAEQ. AlLAEQ. DOMIQLE

Et Fokis exemtlar sed ><on imitauile honesti.

The poems of Sir Robert Ayton, for the first time
published together in the Miscellany of the Bannatync
Club (from which we derive these particulars of the
poet's life), are few in number, but of great merit.
He composed no Scottish ])oems, at least none that
have come down to our times. He wrote in English,
and was, indeed, one of the first of our countrvmen
■who composed in that language with any degree of
elegance or purity. It is unfortunate that the most
of his poems are complimentary verses to the illus-
trious individuals with whom he was acquainted, and
of course characterized only by a strain of conceited
and extravagant flattery. Those, however, upon
general topics, are conceived in a refined and tender
strain of fancy, that reminds us more of the fairy
strains of Herrick than anything else. John Aulney
remarks, "that .Sir Robert was one of the best poets
of his time," and adds the more important testimony
that "Mr. John Dryden has seen verses of his, some
of the best of th(2t (i^^e, printed with some other verses."
According to Dempster, Ayton was also a writer of
verses in Greek and P'rench, as well as in Englisli
and Latin. .Several of his Latin poems are preserved
iti the work called Delitne Poetanim Seotoriim, which
was [)rinted in his lifetime (1637) at Amsterdam.

AYTOUN, Wii.i.iAM Edmondstoink. This
recent poet, essayist, ]iopular lecturer, and ]>rofc>sor,
who iu each attained to considerable di.-,tinction, was
born in June, 1813. His father was a writer to the
signi-t, and wa-^ descended from an old and respect-
able family in FiR-^hire. The future professor was
first educateil at the Ivlinhurgh Academy, where he
was noted among hi> young compeers as an ajU
scholar; and afterwards at the university of Edin-
burgli, where he went through the u^ual curriculum.
In th!< lran>it yming Aytoun became the pupil of
John'Wilson. jirofo^-'Drnf moral jihilosophv, in whom
he lo'.ind a kindred spirit, and of whom he sub^e-
(juently became the son-in-law and literary collahor-
ateur; and in this clas-^ he distinguished himself at
the early age of eighteen by his prize ]ioem en-
titled Judith. After finishing hi'^ course at college.
.\ytoun completed his studies in Germany, the liter-

ature of which country h.ad afterwards considerable
influence on the spirit of his own writings. On hLs
return to Edinburgh he passed as a writer to the
signet, but not finding this a congenial occupation,
he turned to the .Scottish bar, to which he obtained
admission in 1840. As an advocate, however, he
had little opportunity of being distinguished as an
eloquent jdeader, being chietly employed as counsel
in criminal ca.ses. His fame was chiefly confined to
the outer or parliament-house, where he was noted as
one of the wits of the day, and an eminent meml>cr
of that light-hearted talented jjarty of lawyers who
were the successors of the "stove school." I'ut such
talents as his could not be confined to imprfimjitu
sayings, and satisfied with the applause they created;
and he produced for Uie principal magazines con-
tributions, both in prose and verse, which indi-
cated a writer of no mean powers. While a contri-
butor to 7'aifs Magazine, he also, in conjunction
with his friend Theodore Martin, commenced the
Bon Gitaltier Ballads, the best collection of that
kind of poetry extant.

The literary talents of Aytoun, which were now
generally recognized, obtained him, in 1S39, a wel-
come admission amongthecontributorsto Blackwood's
Magazine; and in this distinguished periodical he
soon found rivals to quicken his powers, as well as
a sphere for their best exertions. It was there also
that from time to time he published those stirring
national odes which he afterwards gave to the \\ orld
in a collective form, under the title of Lays of the
Scottish Cavaliers. Like most young men of ardent
feelings and literary acquirements, he at the com-
mencement of life had entertained liberal sentiments
in politics, which he afterwards saw fit to change;
and this change, as is usually the case, was into a
farther extreme on the opposite side than if he had
been born and bred a Tor}-. The effects of this con-
version are apparent in his Lays, where cavalier-
devotedness in loyalty is as absolute as it is enthusi-
astic, and the conclusive unanswerable arginnent of
which is, "Thus saith the king." Such Jacobiti;m,
however, in the nineteenth century is so rare, and
withal so harmless, that its extravagance maybe jwr-
doned onaccount of itssingularityand itsdisinterested-
ness. Rut still more anient than his Jacobitism was
his. enthusiastic Caledonian patriotism, that delighted
to dwell upon the ancient remembrances of his coun-
try, and which made him conspicuous as the champion
of a party that lived for a brief period, and whose
great demand was the redress of Scottish grievances.
But the poetic element of his Lays of the Scottish
Caz-alicrs is animated and inspired by either feeling,
so that while I'he Heart cf Bruce, and L'.diiU urgii
after Floddeu, are lyrics ennobled by the purest
national devotcdness, his Buruil March cf Dundee,
and Charles Edward at rtV.r(//7/<j-, are all th.e more
poetical from the fervour of the Jacobite si>ir.t by
which they are characterized. Lut it was not m-jrely
by his poetr}- that Aytoun Ijccame one of ilic mo-;
dir-iinguished ^\■riters in B.'cJc/.'eccd. His t-ssays,
dissertations, and talcs in that magazine were c':i;.illy
jiojiular; and few of its mirth-ins]iiring stunts cm
compete v.ith h.is (ilc;.'Mutch/:in /\\::.':eir.: iV yA:r I
became a ]'ecma;i. How .assiduously aivi e\cli>iVLly
his literary exertions were devoted to th.is oi^e ] eri-
odical mav be nu'lerstood from the fact thr.t, bc^v.etii
the year 1S30. when he f,r< a] I'cared in i-.s j .-.^e-.
until 1S65. the year of liis deatli. he ci r.triii'.iiel n.' le
tinn 120 articles up'. II a great i::\ers:;y i 1 M.i'.ee;-.
but all of t!;em disiinguislied ly m ;;ie ; .•:i:Lu!;;r
excellence.

While Ay!(.r- w-sthusestab:i-hirg ah--' V'- r-ry
rejHilation thii ug!i a n:e'.;;uin g' r.e:.-. y •... - ■.'^..t so

"WILLIAM EDMOXDSTOUXE AYTOUX

WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE.

precarious and evanescent as that of magazine writing,
the chair of rhetoric and bdlcs-lettrcs in the university
of Edinburgh became vacant, and to this professor-
ship he was appointed in 1845. I' ^^'^^ ^ great
change in the hterary Hfe of one who had hitherto
frolicked over the whole field of intellect, and regu-
lated his choice of subjects by the mood of the pass-
ing hour. A systematic course of lectures was to be
delivered; but this was not all — he must train young
tyros to accurate thought and correct graceful com-
position, and bear with those blunders that set the
teeth of a refined critic on edge. He must subject
his pupils to daily oral examination, and revise their
themes and essays pen in hand and with a patience
all-enduring. But on the other hand, every depart-
ment of his course was already familiar to his mind;
in training the youthful intellect he could remember
how his own had been matured; and while leading
them by the same way, he couKl enjoy the luxury of
living over again, and seeing himself reproduced
anew in the pupils who walked in his steps. His
assiduity, hisjiatience, and his sympathy as a teacher,
and the popularity and success with whicli they were
crowned, very soon appeared. A chair which had
hitherto been little regarded, became one of tiie most
popular in the university; and his class-room, which
at first comprised about thirty students, was at the
close of his life attended by a hundred and fifty.

The other particulars of Aytoun's life may be
briefly enumerated. In 1849 he married Jane, the
youngest daughter of Professor Wilson, wlio died
ten years after. In 1S52, on account of the services
he had rendered as a writer to their party. Lord
Derby and his friends acknowledged their oljligation
by apjiointing him sheriff and vice-admiral of Orkney
ar.d .Shetland; and the duties of these offices he
carefully fulfilled, spending for the purpose a con-
sideral)le portion of each summer in these islands.
After four vcars of widowhoo 1, he, in Decemljer,

1 863, married Miss Kinnear, a near relative of his
friends, the Balfours of Trennabie, in Orkney. As
yet in the prime of life, a large amount of happiness
was thought to be still in store for him: but in the
winter of 1864 he sickened, his constitution was
gradually undermined, and he died on the 4th of
August, 1S65.

During such varied activity of a literary life, and
so prolific in its various productions, much that Mr.
Aytoun wrote was upon subjects of political interest
for the day, and therefore they have quietly dropped,
or are dropping, out of notice. His tales, however,
will always be appreciated as veritable pictures of
human nature, and will show how high a place he
would have occupied if he had devoted himself to this
kind of literature. But it is as a poet that he will
be best rememl;ered, and his Lays and touching
songs will be quoted when his political dissertations
are forgot. While he lived, not the least of his
literary distinctions arose from being supposed the
editor of Blackii'ood''s Magazine, and that in this
ofhce he succeeded his father-in-law. Professor John
Wilson. But that both suppositions were entirely
unfounded has been declared by official authority in
the following intimation: — " It was erroneously sup-
posed in some quarters that Mr. Aytoun occupied
the position of editor of this magazine. Indeed, it
seems difficult to persuade our friends at a distance
of what is well known to those nearer at hand, that
the proprietors of this magazine have never, since
its commencement, now nearly half a century ago,
devolved upon others the powers or responsibilities
of an editor. To this system, perhaps, they owe it
that the magazine has preserved a uniform consis-
tency of aim and purpose; and that, while warm in
its advocacy of great views and principles, it has
avoided those petty partizanships and predilections
from which it is so difficult for an ordinary editor to
keep free.'''

B-

BAIKIE, Wii.i.iAM BAi.roiR, M. D., R.X. The
fiel'l of .\frican ex])luration, althougli tlie most
difficult and deadly, has always l)een the favourite
choice of Scottish traveller^. .And wlience this
])eculiarity? It perhaps arises from the national
cliaracter, wliich only becomes more resolute from
ojiposition, and which scorns to suecuml) as long as
there are dangers to surmount or difficulties to be
overcome. Although alnvi^t everv new j^atli of
African discovery contains the grave of sonic un-
firtunate Scottish ex]ilorer who died mi(l-\\a\-, tlie
lonely hilloek only animates some successor to ac-
com]>li-.h what the other has left tiiidonc, instead of
compelling him to pau^e and turn liaek. .Amon:,;
these martyrs of .Afriean discovery, the li-t f u' tlie
present terminates with tlie name of Dr. William
Balfour P.aikie.

This lamented travellrr was the son of Captain
John ]5aikie, R.X*., and was b')rn at Kirkwall,
Orkney, 1S20. yVfter an education at the grannnar-
school of his native town, he went to Edinbui;di,
studied medicine, and highly distinginshed himself
in the medical classes of the iniiverNitv. Having
obtained the degree of M.D. he entered the ro\.;l
navy as assistant-surgeon in .\Iareh 15, 1S4S, and in
this cajiacity served fir sonic time in tlie I'l'/t/gr.
a survevinc: vessel in the Mediterranean. But it w.i-

in lSs5 tliat he was introduced to his proper voca-
tion, bv being sent f)Ut on board the /'Awi/ steamer
as an accredited envoy of the British government,
for the jnirpose of opening up the trade of the
Xiger, forming a trading settlement in the interior of
Africa, and thus bringing the various Xiger expedi-
tions to a ]iractical conclusion. It was while thus
employed that the iron steamer /Jay Spring was
lost in going through some of the rajudsof the river;
l)ut this disaster, instead of discouraging Dr. Baikie,
only made him nuire active and self-reliant. Having
saved all he could from the wreck, he took up his
abode with the wild African tribes, and followed
out his duties as a govermnent commissioner by ex-
]iloring the country in every direction, and entering
into binding engagements with the African ehie-fs
and their people in relation to their traffic with the
British. But while thus em])loyed as a ])ioneer of
eonnnerce and civilization, and collecting vocabu-
laries of the n.ative languages for the pur]iose of
facilitating the intercourse of Europeans with the
natives, his su])plies from home were exhausted, his
horses (iied, aiifl he soon found himself as bare and
helple--^ as the most imjioverished of our y\friean
tiavL-llers. \'ct still zealous to prosecute his \\-ork,

' r.'a.KicooJs Mai;azi):c for ScptijiuLcr, iC',

WILLIAM BALFOUR BAIKIE JOANNA BAILLIE.

53

and another vessel, tlie Sunbeam, being sent to his
relief, he settled at Lukoja, near the junction of the
Chadda with the Niger. The account of it, given by
Dr. Baikie in .September, l86l, invests it with con-
siderable mercantile importance. "The King of
Niipe, tlie most powerful next to the Sultan of
Sokoto, being desirous of seeing a market for Euro-
pean produce here, entered into relations with us,
and undertook to open various roads for the passage
of caravans, traders, and canoes to this place, which
promise has been faithfully performed; I, on my part,
giving him to understand that it was the desire of her
majesty's government to have a trading station here.
... I have started a regular market here, and have
established the recognition of Sunday as a non-trad-
ing day, and the exclusion of slaves from our market.
Alreacly traders come to us from Kabbi, Kano, and
other parts of Hausa; and we hope, ere long, to see
regular caravans with ivory and other produce. The
step I am taking is not lightly adopted. After a
prolonged absence from England, to stay another
season here without any Europeans, with only a
faint prospect of speedy communication, and after
all my experience of hunger and difficulty last year,
is by no means an inviting prospect. But what
I look to are the securing for England a command-
ing position in Central Africa, and the necessity of
making a commencement."

The most serious difficulty which Dr. Baikie had
encountered arose from the precarious character of
his official position. In consequence of the loss of
tlie PUiaJ and other disasters, the foreign office in
i860 recalled the expedition to the Niger; but his
unaided attempts had been so successful, and he had
brought over so many African chiefs to his views by
l)romises of British co-operation, that our govern-
ment cancelled the recal, and ordered the expedition
to be continued. Baikie was therefore enabled to
continue the good work which he had commenced
at his settlement of Lukoja; and after having seen it
securely established, he craved leave of absence in
October, 1S63. The wish he expressed was to see
his aged father, from whom he had been absent seven
years. In June, 1864, the foreign office assented,
in the hope that in the following year he would
return to his African settlement; and Dr. Baikie,
eager to revisit his native home, arrived at Lagos
in October. Had he immediately embarked for
England as he had at first intended, and as he
announced to hi3 expecting friends at home, his
safety might have been insured. But the labour of
arranging his African preparations occupied so much
time, that the favourable opportunity was lost.
Arriving at Sierra Leone, that place so fatal to
European constitutions, he was attacked with illness
which in two short days ended his adventurous
career.

Such is the brief narrative of one wliose travels
and exertions in .-Vfrica would of themselves suftke
to fill a whole volume of interesting biography.
But it was not in action alone that his energies were
expended. His earnest studies in a climate so
enervating and exhausting, his extensive geographical
and physiological observations, his contributi<jns to
scientific societies, and his copious correspondence,
would of themselves furnish an amount of knowledge
about the ]K-ople, climate, and productions of the
interior of Africa as would vastly enrich the store-
house of our African research. Nor were his labours
less abundant in the African languages, so that his
vocabularies of the Ilausa, Fulo. and l-'ulfulde tongues
comprise each of them between three an<l four thousand
words. Out of so large a collection of manuscripts,
and where tliere is so much excellence from which

to choose, we hope that a publication will lie given
as an enduring monument of the sterling worth of
Dr. Baikie. This good work indeed is already in
progress, his numerous journals descriptive of his
travels and researches, now in the foreign office,
having been placed in the hands of Dr. Kirk, the
accomplished African traveller, for revision and
arrangement. The printed communications of Dr.
Baikie are comprised in the following short list : —
Despatches frotu 0/ the A'lger Kxpedition rela-
tive to the Trade of that River, and to the liligihilil-,
of Central Africa as a future Cotton-field. Map.
Folio, 1862. (Blue Book.) — Report on the Geoi^ru-
phical Position of the Countries in the neighbourhood of
the Niger, &c. Map. Folio, 1862. — Obsenations
on the Hausa and Fulfulde Languages. Privately
printed, 8vo, 1862. — iVarrative of an Exploring
P'oyage up the Rivers A'u'dra and Binue (commonly
known as the Niger and Tsada), in 1854: 8vo, 1856.

BAILLIE, Joanna, authoress of Plays on the
Passions, and various other dramatic works and .
poems, was bom on September li, 1762, in the
manse of Bothwell in Lanarkshire. Her father, Dr.
James Baillie, the minister of that parish, and sub-
sequently professor of divinity in the university of
Glasgow, sprang from a family allied to that of the
celebrated Principal Robert Baillie, and likewise to
that of the Baillies of Jerviswood, memorable in the
history of Scotland. All these lines were derived
from the ancient stem of the Baillies of Lamington.
Her mother, also, was one of a race well known in
.Scottish heraldry, for she was descended from the
Hunters of Hunterston, and was the sister of William
and John Hunter, both renowned in the annals of
science. The children, by the marriage of Dr.
James Baillie with Miss Hunter, were Agnes;
Matthew, afterwards the eminent physician; and
Joanna, a twin- — the other child being still-born.

The early youth of Joanna Baillie was passed
among the romantic scenes of Bothwell, where eveiy
element existed to awaken the fancy of the poet;
but when she had attained her sixth year the family
removed to Hamilton, to the collegiate church of
which place her father had been appointed minister.
During her childhood Joanna Baillie was not re-
markable for acquirement, yet, nevertheless, showed
much originality and quickness of intellect. She
made verses before she could read, and soon mani-
fested dramatic talent. She took ever)- opportunity
of arranging among her young companions theatrical
performances, in which her power of sustaining
characters was remarkable, and she frequently wrote
the dialogue herself She was also cons])icuous fur
fearlessness of disjaosition, which in after-years dis-
played itself in moral courage — a virtue often ]iro-
minent in her conduct. Notwithstanding the de-
cided tendency of her mind, she did not become an
author till at a later ])eriod than is usual with th(i>e
who are subject to the strong imjndses of genius.
In 1778 her father died; and in 17S4, hi? wid^w,
with her daughters, having lived for some year.- r.t
Long Calderwood, near Hamilton, procecile 1 t^
London to reside with her son, vho had tliere
entered on his medical career, and who, i:;i.in the
death of his uncle, Dr. William Ilur.tcr. lir.d bcc-!;io
possessed of the house in Great Wimhn;!! Siixl:
which the latter had built and inli.ibitod.

It was in this al)ode that Joanna Baiilio. in 17^,0.
first re>olved upon iiubli.-hing. and tlie n.-uit \\.';-a
small volume of miscellaneous juxMn-, to wIkJi ~!ie
did not affix her name. The.-e (.•v-.ncoil ci'T>; ^-r.i: -.e
talent, hut not the j^owor she at'terw ar!- m.-niv-icii.
In 17'jS >he gavj to tlie wurld, r.L-j an-'iiyr.-. ju.-fy,

54

JOANNA EAILLIE MATTHEW BAILLIE.

her first volume of dramas, in which the true bent of
her genius was fully seen. This was entitled A
Serit-s of Plays, in which it is atUmptcd to Delineate
the Stronger Passions of the Mind, each Passion being
the subject of a Tragedy and a Comedy, and these were
accompanied by an introductory discourse of some
length, in which dramatic composition was discussed,
in which, also, many original views were announced,
together witli the peculiar system she proposed to
adopt. Rich though the period was in poetry, this
work made a great impression, and a new edition of
it was soon required. The writer was sought for
among the most gifted personages of the day, and
the illustrious Scott, with others then equally appre-
ciated, was suspected as the author. The jiraise
bestowed upon Pasil and De Montfori encouraged
the autlioress, and in lSo2, she pul>iished another
volume of plays on the Passions. Although much
o'.)jection w.is made to theopinions she hail enunciated
in the preface to her first dramas, and though the
criticism from an influential (juarter was severe, she
atlhered to her jiurpose, and continued to write on
the same plan which she had at first evolved; for,
in 1S12, she sent forth another volume of plays on
the Passions, and in 1836. three more volumes of
plays, containing some in prosecution of her primary
design, which she thus completed, and some on
miscellaneous subjects. Besides those above-men-
tioned, during the long j^eriod of her career she
j)ubli>hed various other dramas, and all her writings
in this form exhibit great originality, power, and
knowledge of human nature. Her works also are
rich in imagery, and a pure and energetic strain of
poetry pervades them. For the great effects she
produced she was little indebted to study, of which
her pages bear few indications. The characters she
portrayed, the stories on which her plays were
founded, and the management of them, proceeded
almost entirely fr(jm her own invention. She was
the authoress, also, of some poems, as well as songs,
of high merit, among which may be especially men-
tionetl those well-known favourite .Scottish ones
entitled "The bride, she is winsome and bonnie,"
and " It fell on a morning when we were thrang;"
and the lyrical c<>mpo>iti()iis scattered through her
dramas are distinguished i)y their freshness and
beauty. Some of her ))lays were represented on the
stage, but without much success. Passion in them
is forcibly and faithfully delineated, but without
those startling and effective situations calculated to
obtain tlu.-atrical triumph. Unmarried, and dwelling
out of London, she had not those op])ortunities of
frequenting the theatre which are necessary for the
pnxluction of coInpo^itions jiopular in rejiresenfation.
It must l)e remembered, also, that female delicacy

{)laces a limit not only to the exuberance of jiassion,
>ut also to the choice of subjects, which interfered
both with the f)rce and variety of her ])lays.

.After Joanna I5aillie had left Scotland, in 17S4,
she di'l ni)t return to her native land excejit for
occasional visits. Upon the marriage of her brother,
in 1791, with Miss l)enman, tiie sister of flu- Lord
Chief-justice Denman, Joanna P.aillie, with lu-r
mother and si>ter, passed some years at (Ji)lelK>ter,
but subsequently settled at Ilampstead. near I-omion,
where she resi<lcd for more than half a centurv.
Her mother died in 1806, and her sole companion
during the remainder of her life was her sister,
whose character, virtues, and claims upon the
affections rif the ]ioetess arc beniUifully connneni-
orated by her in an address to .Miss .\gnes I'aillie
on her birth-day. The means of Joanna I'aillie
were sufficient ff>r every comfort, and enabled her
to see many of the most distinguished individuals

the great metropolis contained, who, attracted
by her high reputation, her perfect simplicity
of manners, and the talent and shrewdness of her
conversation, resorted freely to her home. Sir
Walter Scott was one of her warmest friends and
most ardent admirers, as many passages in his
writings declare. Joanna Baillie was under the
middle size, but not diminutive, and her form was
slender. Her countenance indicated high talent,
worth, and decision. Her life was characterized by
the purest morality. Her principles were sustained
by a strong and abiding sense of religion, while her
great genius, and the engrossing pursuits of composi-
tion, never interfered with her active benevolence
or the daily duties of life. She died in her house, in
Hampstead, on the 23d day of February, 185 1.

BAILLIE, Matthew, M.D., a distinguished
modern physican and anatomist, was the son of the
Rev. James Baillie, D.D., professor of divinity in
the university of Glasgow. He was born October
27, 1761, in the manse of Shotts, of which parish his
father was then minister. The father of Dr. Matthew
Baillie was supposed to be descended from the family
of Baillie of Jerviswood, so noted in the history of
Scottish freedom; his mother was a sister of the two
celebrated anatomists. Dr. William and Mr. John
Hunter; and one of his two sisters was Miss Joanna
Baillie, the well-known and amiable authoress of
Plays on (he Passions. After receiving the rudiments
of his education under his father's immediate super-
intendence, he began his academical course in 1773,
in the university of Glasgow, where he distinguished
himself so highly as to be transferred, in 1778, upon
.Snell's foundation, to Baliol College, Oxford. Here,
when he had attained the proper standing, he took
his degrees in arts and physic. In 1780, while still
keeping his terms at O.v:ford, he commenced his
anatomical studies at London, under the care of his
uncles. He had the great advantage of residing with
Dr. William Hunter, and, when he became suffi-
ciently advanced in his studies, of being employed to
make the necessary preparations for the lectures, to
conduct the demonstrations, and to superintend the
operations of the students. On the death of Dr.
Hunter, March, 1783, he was found qualified to be-
come the successor of that great man, in conjunction
with Mr. Cruickshank, who had j^reviously been
employed as Dr. Hunter's assistant. His uncle
a])])ointed him by will to have the use of liis splendid
collection of anatomical preparations, so long as he
should continue an anatomical lecturer, after which
it was to be transferred to Cilasgow College. Dr.
Baillie began to lecture in 1784, anil soon acquired
the highest reputation as an anatomical teacher.
He was himself indefatigable in the business of fomi-
ing jireparations, adding, it is said, no fewer than
eleven hundred articles to his uncle's museum. He
])i)ssessed the valuable talent of making an abstruse
and dift'icult subject ]ilain; his prelections were re-
markalile for that lucid order and clearness of ex-
]iressioii which proceed from a perfect conception of
the subject; anil he never permitted any vanity of
display to turn him from his great object of convey-
ing inlormation in the simplest and most intelligible
\\ay, and so as to become useful to his pupils. The
distinctness of his elocution was also much admired,
notwithstanding that he never could altogether shake
ofl the accent of liis native country. In 1795 Dr.
baillie embodied the knowledge he ]:)ossessed through
his own observations and those of liis uncle in a
small but most valuable work, entitled The Morbid
Aihilomy of some of the most important Parts of the
Ilnntau r,ody, wliicli \\as immediately translated

MATTHEW BAILLIE.

into French and German, and extended his name to
every land where medical science was cultivated.
The publication of this little treatise was, indeed, an
era in the history of medical knowledge in this
country. It combined all the information formerly
scattered throu;^h the writings of Bonetus, Lieutaud,
and Montagcii, besides the immense store of observa-
tions made by the ingenious author. The know-
ledge of the changes produced on the human frame
by disease had previously been very imperfect; but
it was now so com|)letely elucidated that, with the
assistance of this little volume, any j)erson previously
acijuainted with morbid symptoms, but unacquainted
with the disease, could, upon an examination after
death, understand the whole malady. Perhaps no
production of the period ever liad so much influence
on the study of medicine, or contributed so much to
correct unfounded speculations upon the nature of
disease, to excite a spirit of observation, and to lead
the attention of the student to fact and experience.
Along with all its excellencies, it was delightful to
observe the extreme modesty and total absence of
pretension with which the author, in the fulness of
liis immense knowledge, ushered it into the world.

In 1787 Dr. Baillie had been elected physician
to St. George's Hospital, a situation which afforded
him many of those opj^ortunities of observation
upon which the success of his work on Morbid Ana-
tomy was founded. In 1789, having taken his
degree of M.D. at Oxford, he was admitted a can-
didate at the College of Physicians, and in the fol-
lowing year had the full privileges of fellowship
conferretl upon him. About the same time he was
elected a fellow of the Royal Society, to which he
had contributed two essays. He served the office
of censor in the Royal College of Physicians, in
1792 and 1797, and that of commissioner under the
act of parliament for the inspection and licensing of
mad-houses in 1794 and 1795.

In 1799 Dr. Paillie relinquished the business of
an anatomical lecturer, and in 1800 resigned his
duties as physician to .St. George's Hospital. Partly
by the inlluence of his fame as an anatomist, and
partly through the disinterested recommendations of
several members of his own profession, he found
himself gradually tempted into the less agreeable
business of a general physician. He was always
resorted to when more than ordinary scientific pre-
cision was rec|uired. About the year iSoi, when
he had attained the mature age of forty, he had be-
come completely absorlied in practice. As a physi-
cian, he possessed, in an eminent degree, a facility
in distinguishing diseases — one of the most impor-
tant qualifications in the practice of medicine, as a
want of accuracy in discriminating symptomatic
from primary affections leads to the most serious
errors; wiiiUt it may be said that, when a disease is
once distinctly characterized, and the peculiarities of
the case defined, the cure is half performed. I labits
-if attentive observation had enabled Dr. Baillie to
know, with great accuracy, the precise extent of the
powers of medicine; indeed, there was no class of
cases more likely to f;\Il under his observation than
those in which they had been abused, younger prac-
titioners being apt to carry a particular system of
treatment beyond its proper limits; Dr.Baillie's
readiness, therefore, in seeing this abuse, rendered
his opinions, in many ca>es, of great value. Yet he
was always scrupulously anxious, through the natural
benignity of his (li>])osition. to use his knowledge
with a delicate regard to the interests of those juniors
whose proce<lure lie was called upon to amend. He
managed, indeed, this ]\-irt of liis practice with so
much delicacv that lie wa^ held in the utmost atTec-

tion and esteem by the younger branciies of the pro-
fession.

Dr. Baillie was remarkable for forming his judg-
ment of any case before him from his own observa-
tions exclusively; carefully guarding himself against
any prepossessions from the opinions suggested bv
others. When he visited a patient, he obser^•ed him
accurately, he listened to him attentively, he put a
few pointed c[uestions — and his opinion was f(jrmed.
Beneath a most natural and unassuming manner,
which was the same on all occasions, was c<mcealed
an almost intuitive power of perceiving the state
of his patient. His mind was always quietly, but
eagerly, directed to an investigation of the symptoms;
and he had so distinct and systematic a mode of
putting questions, that the answers of his patients
often presented a connected view of the whole case.
On such occasions, he avoided technical and learned
phrases; he affected none of that sentimental tender-
ness which is sometimes assumed by a j)hysician
with a view to recommend himself to his patient; but
he expressed what he had to say in the simplest and
plainest terms; with some pleasantrv' if the occasion
admitted of it, and with gravity and gentleness if
they were required; and he left his patient either
encouraged or tranquillized, persuafled that the
opinion he had received was sound and honest, whether
it was unfavourable or not, and that his physician
merited his confidence. In delivering or writing his
opinions he was equally remarkable for unaffected
simplicity. His language was sometimes so plain,
that his patients have been able to repeat to their
other medical attendants every word w hich he had
uttered. In consultation he gave his opinion con-
cisely, and with a few grounds; those grounds being
chiefly facts, rather than arguments, so that little
room was left for disjnite. If any difference or diffi-
culty arose, his example pointed out the way of re-
moving it, by an appeal to other facts, and by a
neglect of speculative reasoning.

In ever}' relation and situation of private life Dr.
Baillie was equally to be admired; and it must be
added, that the same liberal and just ideas which, on
all occasions, guided his conduct as an individual,
ruled him in his many public duties: he never coun-
tenanced any measures which had the appearance of
oppression or hostility towards the mendjers of his
profession. Men seldom act, collectively, with the
same honour and integrity as they would do individ-
ually; and a member of a ]Uiblic body requires an
unu.-.ual share of moral courage, who oppo.-es those
measures cf his associates which he may not him-
self approve of; but if there was one (jualification
more than another which gave Dr. Baillie the
public confidence he enjoyed, and raised him to the
zenith of professional distinction, it was \\\> inllexibic
integrity.

In 1799 Dr. Baillie commenced the pulilication
of A Scries cf Eiii^rarnr^s to illustrate soiiw I'arts oj
Morbid Aim'tpviy, in successive yi?.u7<7///. \\hich were
completed in 1S02. The drawings fnr thi> -jilerjiid
work were done by Mr. Clift. the con-ervnt'.r of tlic
Hunterian Museum in Lincoln's Inn l-ieh'.s; .y>i
they were creditable at once to the taste and lilier.i'.ity
of Dr. Baillie, and to the state o\ art in tl;at <:ay.
Dr. Baillie afterwards published .1 >; .! >::itr::.\:i / 'r-
soription of tlu- Grand i'torus: and thn i:-!:' i;: :h.e
whole course of hi> iirofe-sional life, he c^ •r.-,iil u'.ed
largely to the transactions and nu- ileal oLeL::-!-
of the time. ^Vhen he wa- at th.e liei-h; "1 1::-
popularitv. he enioyeti a hii^her iix' iv.c tijan ar.y
lireceding jilivsician, and whi^b. wa- ■ r.iy ;:-:i-:i" r ;■>
the sum receive<! by one ]iar;icv,;ar c r.'u;;; ■ aarv.
In one of his busiest vears, \\hen he hai scarcely

56

MATTHEW BAILLIE

ROBERT BAILLIE.

time to take a single meal, it is said lo have reached
_;,^io,ooo. He was admitted to have the greatest
consultation business of his time; and it was known
that he was applied to for medical advice from many
distant quarters of the world. From his arduous,
and to his mind often irksome, duties, he enjoyed no
rela.xation for many years, till at length he began to
indulge in an annual retirement of a few months to
the country. On one of the first of these occasions
he paid a visit to the land of his birth, which, during
an absence of thirty years, spent in busy and distract-
ing pursuits, he had never ceased to regard with the
most tender feelings. The love of country was, in-
deed, a prominent feature in his character; and he
was prepared on this occasion to realize many enjoy-
ments which he had previously contemplated with
enthusiasm, in the prospect of once more beholding
the land and friends of his youth. The result was
far different from his expectations. lie found most
of his early companions cither scattered over the
world, in search, as he himself had been, of fortune,
or else forgotten in untimely graves; of those who
survived, many were removed beyond his sym-
pathies by that total alteration of feeling which a
difference of worldly circumstances so invariably
effects in the hearts of early friends, on the side of
the depressed party as well as the elevated.

Dr. Baillie was introduced to the favourable
notice of the royal family, in consequence of his
treatment of the Duke of Gloucester. Being subse-
quently joined in consultation with the king's phy-
sicians upon his majesty's own unhappy case, he
came more prominently than ever into public view,
as in some measure the j)rincipal director of the
royal treatment. The political responsit^ility of this
situation was so very weighty, that, if Dr. Baillie
had been a man of less firmness of nerve, he could
scarcely have maintained himself under it. vSuch,
however, was the public confidence in his inflexible
integrity, that, amidst the hopes and fears which for
a long time agitated the nation on the subject of
the king's health, the opinion of Dr. Baillie ever
regulatetl that of the public. On the first vacancy,
which occurred in l8io, he was appointed one of
the physicians to the king, with the offer of a baron-
etcy, which, however, his good sense and unassum-
ing disposition induced him to decline.

Dr. Baillie at length sunk under tlie weight of
his practice, notwithstanding that for several years
he h.id taken ever>' possible expedient to shift off his
duties to tiie care of younger aspirants. At the last
fjuarterly meeting of the College of Physicians before
his death, when there was a full assemblage of
members, in the midst of the affairs for the considera-
tion of which they were called together. Dr. Baillie
entered the room, emaciated, hectic, and with all
the symptoms of appro.aching dissolution. .Such
was the effect of his sudden and unexpected ajjjiear-
ance, that the ])ublic business was suspended, and
every one present instantly and sjiontaneously rose,
and remained standing until Dr. Baillie had taken
his seat; the incident, though trivial, evinces the affec-
tionate reverence with which he was regarded. Be-
sides the natural claim he had u])on this body, from
his unapproaclied anatomical and medical skill, and
the extraordinary benignity and worth of his char-
acter, he had entitled himself to its ])ecu!iar grati-
tude by leaving to it the whole of his valuable collec-
tion of preparatif)ns, together with the sum of /^6oo
to keep it in order. Dr. Baillie died on tiie 23d
of September, 1823.

Dr. Baillie had married, 5th May, 1791, Miss
Snphia Denman, second daughter of Dr. Deiiman
of London, a distinguished physician, and sister of

Mr., subsequently Lord Denman and Lord High-
chancellor of England. By her he left one son, to
whom he bequeathed his estate of Dantisbourne, in
Oloucestershire; and one daughter. The sums and
effects destined by his will, many of which were
given to medical institutions and public charities,
were sworn in the prerogative court at less than
,,{^80,000.

Dr. Baillie is thus characterized in the Annual
Obituary for 1824: — "He seemed to have an innate
goodness of heart, a secret sympathy with the virtuous,
and to rejoice in their honourable and dignified con-
duct, as in a thing in which he had a personal in-
terest, and as if he felt that his own character was
raised by it as well as human nature ennobled. He
censured warmly what he disapproved, from a strong
attachment to what is right, not to display his super-
iority to others, or to give vent to any asperity of
temper; at the same time he was indulgent to fail-
ings, his kindness to others leading him on many
occasions to overlook what was due to himself; and
even in his last illness he paid gratuitous jjrofessional
visits which were above his strength, and was in
danger of suddenly exhausting himself by exertions
for others. His liberal disposition was well known
to all acquainted with public subscriptions; the
great extent to which it showed itself in private bene-
factions is known only to those who were nearly
connected with him, and perhaps was fully known
only to himself."

BAlXiLIE, Robert, one of the most eminent,
and perhaps the most moderate, of all the Scottish
Presbyterian clergy during the time of the civil war,
was born at Glasgow in 1599. His father, Thomas
Baillie, citizen, was descended from the Baillies of
Lamington; his mother, Helen Gibson, was of the
family of Gibson of Durie, both of which stocks
are distinguished in Presbyterian history. Having
studied divinity in his native university, Mr. Baillie
in 1622 received episcopal orders from Archbishop
Law of Glasgow, and became tutor to the son of the
I'larl of ICglintoune, by whom he was ])resentcd to
the parish church of Kilwinning. In 1626 he was ad-
mitted a regent at the college of Glasgow, and, on
taking his chair, delivered an inaugural oration Dc
Alenfe Agcnte. About this period he appears to ha\e
prosecuted the study of the oriental languages, in
which he is allowed to have attained no mean pro-
ficiency. For some years he lived in terms of the
strictest intimacy with the noble and pious family of
l'"gIintoune, as also with his ordinary, Archbishop
Law, with whom he kept up an epistolary corrcs-
liondence. Baillie was not only educated and or-
dained as an Episcopalian; but he had imbibed from
Principal Cameron of Glasgow the doctrine of passive
resistance. He apj^ears, however, to have been
l)rought over to opposite views during the interval
between 1630 and 1636, which he employed in dis-
cussing with his felh.iw -clergymen the doctrines of
Arminianism, and the new ecclesiastical regulations
introduced into the Scottish church by Archbisho])
Laud. Hence, in the year 1636, being desired by
Archbisho]) Law to preach at I'xlinburgh in favour
of the canon and service-books, he positively refused,
writing, however, ares])ectful ajiology to his lordshi]!.
Lndeared to the resisting party by this coiuhict, he
was chosen to represent the jiresbytery of Irvine in
the General Assembly of 1638, by which the royal
])Ower was braved in the name of the whole nation,
and Iqiiscopacy formally dissolved. In this meeting
Baillie is said to have behaved with great modera-
tion; a term, however, which must be understood ns
only comi)arative, for the expressions used in his

ROBERT BAILLIE.

57

letter regarding the matters condemned are not
wliat would now be considered moderate.

In tile ensuing year, when it was found necessary
to vindicate the proceedings of the Glasgow Assem-
hly with the sword, Haillie entered heartily into the
views of his countrymen. I le accompanied the army
to Dunse Law, in the capacity of ])reacher to the
Earl of Eglintoune's regiment; and he it was who has
handed down the well-known description of that ex-
traordinary camp. "It would have done you good,"
lie remarks in one of his letters, "to have cast your
eyes athort our brave and rich hills, as oft as I did
with great contentment and joy; for I was there
among the rest, being chosen preacher by the gentle-
men of our shire, who came late with Lord Eglin-
toune. I furnished to half a dozen of good fellows
muskets and pikes, and to my boy a broadsword.
I carried myself, as the fashion was, a sword, and
a couple of Dutch pistols at my saddle; but I pro-
mise, for the ofTence of no man, except a robber in
the way; for it was our part alone to pray and
preach for the encouragement of our countrymen,
which I did to my power most cheerfully" {Letters,
vol. i. p. 174). He afterwards states, "Our soldiers
grew in experience of arms, in courage, and favour
daily. Every one encouraged another. The sight
of their no'^les and their beloved pastors daily raised
their hearts. The good sermons and prayers, morn-
ing and evening, under the roof of heaven, to which
their drums did call them for bells; the remonstrance
very frequent of the goodness of their cause; of their
conduct hitherto by a hand clearly divine; also
Leslie's skill, and prudence, and fortune, made them
as resolute for battle as could be wished. We were
feared that emulation among our nobles might have
done harm when they should be met in the lield; but
such was the wisdom and authority of that old,
little, crooked soldier, that all, with an incredible sub-
mission, from the beginning to the end, gave over
themselves to be guided by him, as if he had been
great Solyman. Had you lent your ear in the
morning, or especially at even, and heard in the
tents the sound of some singing psalms, some ]5ray-
ing, and some reading the Scripture, ye would have
been refreshed. True, there was swearing, and curs-
ing, and brawling, in some quarters, whereat we were
grieved; but we hoped, if our camp had been a little
settled, to have gotten some way for these misorders;
for all of any fashion did regret, and all promised to
do their best endeavours for helping all abuses.
For myself, I never found my mind in better temper
tlian it was all that time since I came from home,
till my head was again homeward; for I was as
a man who had taken my leave from the world, and
was resolved to die in that service without return."
This expedition ended in a treaty between the Scot-
tish leaders anci their sovereign, in terms of which
hostilities ceased for a few months. On tlie renewal
of the insurrectionary war next year, Bnillie accom-
jianietl the Scottish army on its march into England,
and became the chronicler of its transactions. To-
wards the end of the year 1640 he was selected by
the Scottish leaders as a proper person to go to Lon-
don, along with other commissioners, to prepare
charges against Archbishop Laud for his innovations
upjn the Scott isli church, which were alleged to
have lieen tb.e origin of the war. He liad. in A]iril,
before the expedition, published a pamphlet entitled
Ladotsinm AvTOKaraKpicns: the Citittcibiirian's Sclf-
C'Vrrieflon ; cr an F.-uioit Demonstration of the
Avoai'ed Arminuinisine, J\\t'en\\ and Tyrannie of
that Faetioti, by their (.non Confessions, which perhaps
}io'nted him out as fit to take a lead in the ])rosecu-
tions of the great Antichrist of Scotti>h I'resbvterv.

Of this and almost all the other proceedings of his
public life he has left a minute account in his letters
and journals, which are preserved entire in the ar-
chives of the Church of Scotland, and in the univer-
sity of Glasgow, and of which excerpts were j)ublished
in 2 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1775. They were after-
wards ])ublished in their entire form by the iJanna-
tyne Club, in 3 vols. 410, in 1 841. '1 liese relicjues
of Mr. Baillie form valuable materials of history.

Not long after his return to his native country, in
1642, he was appointed j(-)int-professor of divinity at
Glasgow, along with Mr. iJavid Dickson, an equally
distinguished, but less moderate, divine. It afl"<jrds
some proof of the estimation in which he was now
held, that he had the choice of this ai-i)ointment in
all the four universities of Scotland. He jierformed
his duties from this period till the Restoration, and
at the same time attended all the General Assemblies
as a member, except during an interval in 1643-6,
when he was absent as adelegate to the Westminster
assembly of divines. In this latter cajiacity he con-
ducted himself in an unobtrusive manner, but fully
concurred in the principles and views of the mure
jjrominent men. It is obser\able from his letters
that, with the pardonable earnestness of his age and
party, he looked upon toleration as a thing fital to
religion, and strenuously asserted the divine right of
the Presbyterian church to be established inccjmjdete
ascendancy and power as a substitute for the Church
of lingland. From 1646 to 1649 he discharged his
ordinary duties as a theological teacher without taking
a leading part in public affairs. But in the latter
year he was chosen by the church as the fittest person
to carry its homage to King Charles II. at the
Hague, and to invite that youthful monarch to assume
the government in .Scotland, under the limitations
and stipulations of the covenant. This duty he exe-
cuted with a degree of dignity and propriety which
could have been expected from no member of his
church but one, who, like him, had spent several
years in conducting high dii:ilomatic affairs in l"-r.g-
land. Indeed, Mr. Baillie appears in ever\' transac-
tion of his life to have been an accom])lished man
of the world, and yet retaining, along with habits of
expediency, the most perfect sincerity in his religious
views. When the necessary introduction of the
malignants into the king's service cau.-ed a strong
division in the church in 165 1, Baillie, as might
have been expected from his character and fcjrmer
history, sided with the yielding or Re>olutioni>t
]iarty, and soon became its jirincijml leader. On
this account he and many other sincere men were
charged by the Protesting and less wurldly ]iarty
with a declension from the high principles of the
covenant, a charge to which he, at lea>t, certainly
was not liable. After the Restoration, though made
principal of his college through court patronage, he
scnquilously refused to accejU a l)i>ho[iric. and did.
not hesitate to express his dissatisfaction with ilie re-
introduction of Episcopacy. His health now iltclin-
ing, he was visited by the new-m."<ie nril;ii:-lv p,
to whom he thus freely expressed himself: "Mr. Ar.-
drew,"said he, "I will not now call vou my lord.
King Charles would have made me one ot il;e>e
lords; but I do not find in the New 'rvstame:.; lb.."t
Christ has any lords in his house." lie c ''!>;■ ii :e-i
this form of religion and ecclesi.-'.stic.T! l; \cr:-n.u'.t .is
"inconsistent with ."^crijiture, ci.'ntr.;:y 1 > j r.ie .\vA
]iriniitive anti'juiiy, and dianietricall}' '■; : ■ ■-<. o to :!;e
true interest of tlie ci'untry." He ox '. .L >. lO^-.
in the sixtv-third vear of his n^e.

Mr. Baillie. besides his /,-.'.V;v .v/.:' _?' .0 y :.V. and
a variety of controversial 11:1:11] ■Idcis. ^-.i.t.-.'i'.e to the
spirit of the times, was tlie ;u;:hor oi" .i :e~;'ec;aL!e

5S

ROBERT BAILLIE.

and learned work, entitled Opus Historicnm et Chro-
nologicum, which was published in folio at Amster-
dam. He was a man of extensive learning — under-
stood no fewer than thirteen languages, among which
were Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic,
and Ethiopic — and wrote Latin with almost August-
ine elegance. He left a large family: one of his
daughters becoming tlie wife of Walkinshaw of Bar-
rowfield, was, by a strange chance, the ancestress of
Miss Clementina Walkinshaw, well known from her
connection with the history of Prince Charles Stuart
— and also grandmother to the celebrated Heni-y
Home, better known under the jutlicial designation
of Lord Kamcs.

BAILLIE, RoRERT, of Jer\-iswood, an eminent
jiatriot of the reign of Cliarlcs II., was the son of
tjeorge Baillie, of St. John's Kirk in Lanarkshire,
cadet of the ancient family of Baillie of Lamington,
who appears to have jnircliased tlie estate of Jervis-
wood, also in Lanarkshire, in the reign of Charles L,
from a family of the name of Livingstone. It is stated
by the Jacobite, Robert Mylnc, in tlie publication
called Foiiiitainhairs Xotcs, lliat the first circumstance
which alienated the mind of Robert Baillie from the
government was his marrying a daughter of Sir
Archibald Johnstone of Warristoun, who, having
borne a conspicuous part in the civil war from tlie
beginning, was executed after the Restoration.
Whatever be tlie truth of this allegation, Baillie
appears before the year 1676 to have been otherwise
allied to the nonconformist party.

The incident which first brought him forward into
view as a subject of persecution -svas one of those in-
terferences in behalf of natural justice, where all sense
of consequences is overborne by the exigency of the
occasion. During the misgovernment of the Duke
of Lauderdale, a wretched jjrofligate of the name of
Carstairs had bargained with Archbishop Sharpe to
undertake the business of an informer u])on an un-
commonly large scale, havhig a troop of other in-
formers under him, and enjoying a certain reward for
each individual whom he could detect at the con-
venticles, besides a share of the fines imposed upon
them. It may be supposed that an individual who
could permit himself to enter upon a profession of
this kincl would not be very scrupulous as to the
guilt of the persons whom he sought to make his
prey. He accordingly appears to have, at least in
one noted instance, pounced upon an individual who
was ]KMfcclly innocent. This was the Rev. Mr.
Kirkton, a nonconformist minister it is true, but
one who had l>een cautious to keep strictly within
the verge of the law. Kirkton was the lirother-in-
law of .\Ir. Baillie of Jerviswood by his marriage to
the sister of that gentleman; and he is eminent in
Scotti.^ii literary history for a memoir of the church
during his own times, which was of great service in
manuscript to the historian Wodrow, and was at
length ])uhl;shed in 1S17. One day in June, 1676,
as Mr. Kirkton was walking along the High Street
of lOdinburgh, Carstairs, whose jierson he <li<l not
know, accosted him in a very civil manner, and ex-
jiressed a desire to speak with him in jirivate. Mr.
Kirkton, suspecting no evil, followed Carstairs to a
very mean-hjoking house, near the common ])risi)n.
Carstairs, who had no warrant to a|i])reluMid or
detain Mr. Kirkton, went out to get one, locking the
door upon his victim.' The unfortunate clergyman
then perceived that he was in some danger, an(l jire-
vailed ujion a ])erson in the house tf) go to seek his
brother-in-law, Mr. I'aillie, and a]>]iri^c him of his

I Liiirnct. Wodrow's account is slightly diftcrunt.

situation. Carstairs, having in vain endeavoured to
get the requisite number of privy-councillors to sign
a warrant, now came back, resolved, it appears, to
try at least if he could not force some money from
Mr. Kirkton for his release. Just as they were
about to confer upon this subject, Mr. Baillie came
to the door, with several other persons, and called to
Carstairs to open. Kirkton, hearing the voices of
friends, took courage, and desired his captor either
to set him free, or to show a warrant for his deten-
tion. Carstairs, instead of doing either, drew a pocket-
pistol, and Kirkton found it necessary, for his own
safety, to enter into a personal struggle, and endea-
vour to secure the weapon of his antagonist. The
gentlemen without, hearing a struggle and cries of
murder, burst open the door, and found Carstairs
sitting upon Mr. Kirkton on the floor. Baillie drew
his sword, and commanded the poltroon to come
off, asking him at the same time if he had any war-
rant for apprehending Mr. Kirkton. Carstairs said
he had a warrant for conducting him to prison, but
he utterly refused to show it, though Mr. Baillie said
that if he saw any warrant against his friend, he
would assist in canying it into execution. The
wretch still persisting in saying he had a warrant,
but was not bound to show it, Mr. Baillie left the
place with Mr. Kirkton and other friends, having
offered no violence whatever to Carstairs, but only
threatened to sue him for unlawful invasion of his
brother-in-law's person.

It might have been expected from even a govem-
ment so lost to all honour and justice as that which
now prevailed in Scotland, that it would have had
at least the good sense to overlook this unhappy
accident to one of its tools. On the contrary, it was
resolved to l)rave the popular feeling of right, by
listening to the complaints of Carstairs. Through
the influence of Archbishop Sharpe, who said that,
if Carstairs was not countenanced, no one would be
procured to apprehend fanatics afterwards, a majority
of the council agreed to prosecute Baillie, Kirkton,
and the other persons concerned. For this purpose,
an antedated warrant was furnished to Carstairs,
signed by nine of the councillors. Tlie Marquis of
Atholl told Bishop Burnet that he had been one of
the nine who lent their names to this infamous docu-
ment. The whole case was therefore made out to
be a tumult against the government; Baillie was
fined in six thousand merks (/'318 sterling)," and his
friends in smaller sums, and to be imprisoned till
they should render payment.

This award was so ojiposite, in every jiarllcular,
to the principles of truth, honour, and justice, that,
even if not directed against individuals connected
with the popular cause, it could not have failed to
excite general indignation. It appears that a re-
spectable minority of the council itself was strongly
opposed to the decision, and took care to let it be
known at court. Mr. Baillie was therefore released
at the end of four months, in consideration of pay-
ment of one-half of his fine to the creature Carstairs.
Lord Halton, however, who was at this time a kind
of pro-regent under his brother Lauderdale, had
interest to obtain tlie dismissal of his opponents from
the council, namely, the inike of Hamilton, the
Karls of Morton, Dumfries, and Kincardine, and the
Lonis Cochrane and I'rimrose, whom he branded,
for their conduct on this occasion, as enemies to the
cluirch and favourers of conventicles.

After this period nothing is known of Mr. Baillie
till the year 1683, when he is found taking a ])romi-
nent share in a scheme of emigration, agitaterl by a

- Wudr'AV says /^^ao sterling, new edit. v. ii, p. 328.

ROBERT I3AILLIE,

SO

number of Scottish gentlemen, who saw no refuge
but this from the tyranny of the government. These
gentlemen entered into a negotiation with the paten-
tees of South Carolina, for permission to convey
themselves thither, along with their families and
dependants. Wliile thus engaged, Mr. Baillie was
induced, along with several of his friends, to enter
into correspondence and counsel with the heads of
the Puritan party in England, who were now form-
ing an extensive plan of insurrection, for the puqiosc
of obtaining a change of measures in the government,
though witli no ulterior view. Under the pretext
of the American expedition. Lord Melville, Sir John
Cochrane of Ochiltree, Mr. ]5aillie, and three others,
were invited and repaired to London, to consult with
the Duke of Monmouth, Sydney, Russell, and the
rest of that party. This scheme was never ])roperly
matured; indeed, it never was anything but a matter
of talk, and had ceased to be even that, when a
minor plot for assassinating the king, to which only
a small number of the party were privy, burst ])re-
maturely, and involved several of the chiefs, who
were totally ignorant of it, in destruction. Sydney
and Russell suflered for this crime, of wliich they were
innocent; and Baillie and several other gentlemen
were seized and sent down to be tried in Scotland.'
The subsequent judicial proceedings were charac-
terized by tlie usual violence and illegality of the time.
Baillie endured a long confinement, during which
he was treated very harshly, and not permitted to
have the society of his lady, though she offered to go
into irons, as an assurance against any attempt at
facilitating his escape. An attempt was made to
])rocure sufficient proof of guilt from the confessions
wrought out of his nephew-in-law, the Earl of Tarras
(who h.id been first married to the elder sister of the
Duchess of Monmouth); but, this being found in-
sufficient, his prosecutors were at last obliged to
adopt the unlawful expedient, too common in those
distracted times, of putting him to a purgative oatli.
An accusation was sent to him, not in the form of an
indictment, nor grounded on any law, but on a letter
of the king, in which he was charged with a con-
spiracy to raise rebellion, and a concern in the Rye-
house Plot. He was told that, if he would not clear
himself of these charges by his oath, he should be
held as guilty, though not as in a criminal court, but
only as before the council, who had no power to
award a liigher sentence than fine and imi^risonment.
As he utterly refused to yield to such a demand, he
was fined by the council in ^6000, being about the
value of liis whole estates. It was then supjwsed that
the prosecution would cease, and that he would escajie
with the doom of a captive. For several months he
continued shut up in a loathsome prison, which had
>uch an effjct upon his health that he was brought
almost to the last extremity. Yet "all the while,"
to use tiie words of Bishop Ihtrnet,- ''lie seemed so
compo>ed, and even so cheerfid, tliat his beliaviour
loiiked like a reviving of the spirit of tlie noblest of
the old Creeks or Romans, or rather of the ]'>rimitive
Ciiristians ami fir^t martyrs in tliose last days of the
churcli." At lengtli, i:)n the 23d of December, 16S4,

1 Mr. R '.:.•. in his (T'-Si-t-.'iitii'ns on Mr. l-'ox s History,
re'.itos th.it the hnp.j r.f a p,ird'in being held out to him, <in
coniiition <if liis .^iviii;; inf 'rm.\tion respecting some friends
supposed to he cn.,M.;ed with him. his answer was, " They
who c\n m.\kc such a proposal to me neither know nie nor my
country:" .">!i expression of which the latter part is amply
justifu: 1 by fact, for. as Lord John Russell has justly obser\-ed,
in his .l/f-w'.o'^ of I.or.i I'.'Uli.itii Russrll. " It is to the honour
of Scotl.md, that [on this occasion! no witnesses came firward
V iluntarilv to accuse their .associates, .as had been done in
England."

- I'urr.ot. being the nephew of Sir .-\rchibald Jcimstone, was
cousin bv r.:arr;.i^o to Mr. Uaillio.

he was brought before the court of justiciary. He
was now so weak as to be obliged to appear at the
bar in his night-gown, and take frequent applica-
tions of cordials, which were supplied to him by his
sister, the wife of Mr. Ker of Graden. The only
evidence that could be pnxluced was the confessions
f(jrced from his friends by torture, one of whom, the
Rev. Mr. Carstairs, afterwards the di.stingui.shcd
principal of the Edinlnngh university, had only
emitted a declaration, on an express promise that
no use was to be made of it. Mr. Baillie solemnly
denied having been accessory to any conspiracy
against the king's life, or being unfavourably dis-
posed to monarchical government. He complained
that his friends had been forced to bring forth untrue
representations against him. Indeci, there can be
no doubt that the whole extent of his offence was a
desire to procure some amelioration of the measures,
and not any change of the members of the govern-
ment; we say desire, because it never cf)uld be proved
that a single step had been taken in the matter, nor
is there the least probability that it would have ever
been heard of, but for the trials of several innocent
persons.

A cavalier and contemporary writer has alleged
that Mr. Baillie conducted himself on his trial in a
very haughty and scornful manner — "very huffy
and proud" is the expression used — but this pro-
bably is only the colour given by a political enemy
to the Roman dignity which Burnet saw in his
behaviour. After the evidence had been adduced,
and when the lord-advocate had ended his charge,
the following remarkaljle dialogue took place be-
tween him and that officer : —

"My lord, I think it very strange that you charge
me with such abominable things; you may remember
that when you came to me in person, you told me
that such things were laid to my charge, but that
you did not believe them. How then, my lord, did
you come to lay such a stain upon me with so much
violence? Are you now convince<l in your con-
science that I am more gxiilty than before? ^'ou
may remember what passed betwixt us in prison."

The whole audience fixed their eyes upon the
advocate, who appeared in no small confusion, and
said,

"Jerviswood. I own what you say. My thoughts
there were as a private man; but wiiat I say here is
by special direction of the privy-council. An<],"
])ointing to Sir William Paterson, clerk, "he knows
my orders."

"Well," said Baillie, "if your lordship have one
conscience for yourself, and another fir the coiiiicil,
I pray God forgive you; I do. My lords,"" he added,
"I trouble your lordships no further."

The assize was empannelled at midnight, and sat
till nine in the morning of the succeeding day, when
a verdict of guilty was returned against Mr. Baillie,
and he was sentenced to be executed that afternoon
at the cross, and his lind)s to lie afterwards exliibited
on the jails of four dilTerent Scottish towns. '1 lie
reason for such jirecipitation was the tear ot h;s
judges that a natural death would disappoint t!ie
wishes of the government, wliich called iinpc-ra;i\ely
at this moment for a public example to terri:>' i's
opponents. ISaillie only said. '"My lord-, tlie ".nie
is short, the sentence is sharp, but \ tliar.k n-.y ( ;."L
who hath made me as fit to die a> v'^ii .tvc to l.'.c.
On returning to tlie prison lie cxpericiicei wh.it
Wodrow describes as "a wondcrhil nir::;rc of j^y,
from the assurance he had th.Tt i:i a few hour.- he
should he inconceivably hap;iy."'

Mr. Baillie was attenfh-d to the -caf;''!! by his
faithful and alVectionatc =:::cr. He \.X'\ ;.rc pared aii

Co

SIR DAVID BAIRD.

address to the people; but knowing that he might
be prevented from delivering it, he had previously
given it to his friends in writing. It is said that
the government afterwards offered to give up his
body for burial, if his friends would agree to suppress
this document. They appear to liave rejected the
proposition. The unfortunate gentleman was so
weak that he required to be assisted in mounting
the ladder: he betrayed, however, no symptom of
moral weakness. Just before being consigned to
his fate, he said, in the self-accusing spirit of true
excellence, "My faint zeal for the Protestant reli-
gion has brought me to this end." His sister-in-law,
with the stern virtue of her family, waited to the last.'

"Thus," says Bishop Burnet, "a learned and
worthy gentleman, after twenty months' hard usage,
was brought to death, in a way so full, in all the
steps of it, of the spirit and practice of the courts of
inquisition, that one is tempted to think that tlie
methods taken in it were suggested by one well
studied, if not practised, in tliem. The only excuse
that ever was jiretended for tliis infamous prosecu-
tion was, tliat they were sure he was guilty ; and
that the whole secret of the negotiation between the
two kingdoms was intrusted to him; and that, since
he would not discover it, all methods might be taken
to destroy him. Xot considering wliat a precedent
they made on this occasion, by which, if they were
once possessed of an ill opinion of a man, they were
to spare neither artifice nor violence, but to hunt
him down by any means."

Dr. Owen has testified in a strong manner to the
great abilities of the Scottish Sydney. Writing to
a Scottish friend, he said, "Vou have truly men of
great spirits among you; there is, for a gentleman,
ilr. Baillie of Jerviswood, a person of the greatest
abilities I ever almost met with."

Mr. Baillie's family was completely ruined by his
forfeiture. He left a son, George Baillie, wlio, after
his execution, was obliged to take refuge in Holland,
whence he afterwards returned with the Prince of
Orange, by wiiom he was restored to his estates.
The wife of this gentleman was Miss Grizcl Hume,
daughter of Sir Patrick Hume of Pohvarth, a fellow-
patriot of Mr. Robert Baillie. The occasion of
their meeting was very remarkable. Miss Grizel,
when a very young girl, was sent by her father from
the country, to endeavour to convey a letter to Mr.
Baillie in prison, and bring back what intelligence
she could, .'^he succeeded in this dirficult enteriirise;
and having at the same time met witli Mr. Baillie's
son, the intimacy was formed, wliicli was afterwards
completed by their marriage.

BAIRD, TiiK I\u;irr IIoNfiiKAiii.r. C]knekai.
Sir D.WII), a distinguislied commander during the
wars of the French revolution, was the second sur-
viving son of William I'aird, I'-sf]., heir, by settle-
ment, of his second cousin. Sir Jolni I'aird (jf New-
byth, Bart. He entered the army, December i6,
1772, as an ensign in the 2d foot, joined the regiment
at Gibraltar, .Vj^iril, 1773, and returned to Britain in
1776. Having l)een jiromoted to a lieutenancy in
177S, he immediately after ol)tained a comi)any in
the 73d, a regiment then just raised by Lord Mac-
leod, with which he sailed for India, and arrived at
Madras, January, 17S0.

This vouni: ret'iment was here at once u^!lcrcd

' " The I.ady Gr.iden, with r more th.in m.isctihne cour.Tge,
attended him nn the sciffoM till he w.is quartered, and went
with the hangman and saw his (luarters sodden, oylc-d, iSic."
' F^untainhalCs Xotes, 117, ii3 . It is scarcely possible for an
individnal accustomed to the feelings of modern society lu
believe such a statement.

into the trying and hazardous scenes of the war
against Hyder Ali, whom the English Company
had provoked by a shameful breach of faith into a
hostility that threatened to ovenvhelm it. In July,
1780, while the Company, exclusive of Lord Mac-
leod's regiment, had only about 5000, men under
arms, Hyder burst into the Carnatic with an army
of 100,000 men, disciplined and commanded by
French officers, and laid siege to Arcot, the capital
of the only native prince friendly to the British. Sir
Hector Munro, commander-in-chief of the Company's
troops, set out to relieve this city on the 25th of
August, expecting to be joined on the 30th by a
large detachment then in the Northern Circars under
Colonel Baillie. On learning this movement Hyder
left Arcot, and threw himself in tlie way of Colonel
Baillie. In order to favour, if possible, the approach
of this officer. Sir Hector Munro, on the 5th of Sep-
tember, changed his position a little, and advanced
two miles on the Trepassore road, which brought
him within a short distance from the enemy. Hyder
tlien detached his brother-in-law Meer Saib, \\\\\\
8000 horse, to attack Colonel Baillie, and after-
wards an additional force of 6000 infantry, 18,000
cavalry, and twelve pieces of cannon, under his son
the celebrated Tippoo. He at the same time made
demonstrations on his front, to keep up the attention
of Sir Hector and the main army. Baillie, though
commanding no more than 2000 sepoys and a iii\:
European companies, gained a complete victory over
the immense force sent against him, but at the same
time sent word to Sir Hector that, unless ]irovision
were made for accomplishing a junction, he must
certainly be cut off. The commander-in-chief held
a council of war, when it was determined at all
hazards to send a reinforcement, for the purpose of
achieving the relief of this gallant officer. A small
force was selected, consisting principally of the
grenadier and infantiy companies of Lord Macleod's
regiment, which, having received strict injunctions
as to the necessity of a secret and expeditious inarch,
set off towards Colonel Baillie's jjosition, under the
command of Colonel Fletcher and Captain Baird.
Hyder Ali had secret intelligence of this movement,
and sent a detachment to cut it off; but Colonel
Fletcher and Captain Baird, having fortunately con-
ceived some suspicion of their guides, suddenly altered
their line of march, and were thereby enabled to gain
their jioint. Hyder was determined that Colonel
Baillie, with his friends, should not advance so safely
to the main army. He therefore, with the most con-
summate ability, and under his own personal inspec-
tion, prepared an andniscade at a particidar ])ass
through which they would have to march. This
part of the road he had occu]:>ied and enfiladed with
several Ijatteries of cannon, behind which lay large
bodies of his best foot, while he himself, with almost
his whole force, was ready to support the attack.
While these real dispositions were made, a cloud of
irregular cavalry was eni])loyed in several motions
on the side of Conjeveram, in order to divert the at-
tention of the English camp.

The morning of the loth of September had
scarcely dawned, when the silent and expectant
enemy perceived Colonel P)aillie's little army advanc-
ing into the very toils planted to receive it. The
amlniscade reserved their fire with admirable cool-
ness and self-command, till the unhajipy Fnglisli
were in the midst of them. The army marched in
column. On a sudden, while in a narrow delile,
a battery of twelve guns poured a storm of giape-
shot into their right (lank. The English faced
al))ul; another battery immediately opened on their
rear. They had no alternative, therefore, but to

SIR DAVID BAIRD.

6l

advance; other batteries met them here likewise,
and in less than half an hour 57 pieces of cannon
were so brouj^ht to bear on them as to penetrate
into every part of the British line. By seven o'clock
in the morning the enemy poured down upon them
in thousands, and every Englishman in the army was
engage<l. Captain Baird, at the head of his grena-
diers, fought with the greatest heroism. Surrounded
and attacked on all sides by 25,000 cavalry, by 30
regiments of sepoy infantry, besides Ilyder All's
European corps, and a numerous artillery playing
upon them from all quarters within grape-shot dis-
tance, yet this heroic column stood firm and un-
daunted, alternately facing their enemies on every
side of attack. The French officers in Ilyder's
camp beheld the scene with astonishment, which
was increased when, in the midst of all this tumult
and extreme peril, they saw the British grenadiers
performing their evolutions with as much precision,
coolness, and steadiness, as if under the eyes of a
commander on a parade. At length, after a dubious
contest of three hours (from six in the morning
till nine), victory began to declare for the English,
when an unlucky accident altered the fortune of the
day. The tumbrils containing the ammunition sud-
denly blew up, with two dreadful explosions, in the
centre of the British line. The whole face of their
column was laid open, and their artiller)' overturned
and destroyed. Tippoo Saib instantly seized the
moment of advantage, and, without waiting for
orders, fell with the Mogul and Carnatic horse
into the broken square, which had not yet time to
form anew. This attack by the enemy's cavalry
being immediately seconded by the French corps,
and by the first line of infantrv-, determined at once
the fate of our unfortunate army. Out of 4000
sepoys and 800 Europeans who had commenced this
engagement, only about 200 of the latter survived.
Colonel Fletcher was among the slain, and Captain
I5aird was wounded in four ]ilaces. When he and
Colonel Baillie, with other captive officers, were
taken before Hyder Ali, the latter gentleman said
to the barbarous chief, "Your son will inform you
that you owe the victory to our disaster, rather than
to our defeat." Ilyder angrily ordered them from
his presence, and commanded them instantly to
prison. The slaughter among the Mysore troops
was very great, amounting, it is said, to three times
the whole British army. When Sir Hector Munro
learned the unhappy fiite of his detachment, he found
it necessary to retreat to Madras.

Captain Baird, with the officers, remained in
a dungeon in one of Ilyder's forts for three days and
a half; he was chained by the leg to another prisoner,
as much of the slaughter in Ilyder's army was
attributed to the grenadiers. At length, in July,
17S4, he was released and joined his regiment at
A rot. In 17S7 he removed with his regiment
(now >tylcd the 71st) to Bombay, and returned to
Madras next ye.ar. On the 5th' of June, 17S9. he
received the majority of the 71st, and in October
ol)tainod leave of absence, ami returned to Britain.
In 1 79 1 he returned as lieutenant-colonel of the
71-t, ar. 1 joined the army under the Marquis
Conuvai!;-. .\s commander of a brigade of sepovs,
he was present at the attack of a number of droogs,
or hili-f'irts. and at the siege of Seringapatam, in
1 79 1 an'! 1702; and likewi-e at the storming of
Tijipo > Sultaun's lines and camps in the island of
Seringnpatam. In 1793 he commanded a briga le
of Ev.r jpe.ins, and was present at the siege of Pondi-
cherry. lie received a colonelcy in 170V In
(,)ctu!)er, I7'i7. he ein'oarked at Madras witli h;^
rcg-inen; i,v Europe; in December, w'r.en he arrive 1

at the Cape of Goo<l Ho])e, he was appointed
brigadier-general, and placed on that staff, in com-
man<l of a brigade. June 18, 179S, he was appointed
major-general, and returned to the staff in India.
In January, 1799, he arrived at Madra-,, in command
of two regiments of foot, together with the drafts of
the 28th dragoons. May 4, he commanded the
storming jiarty at that distinguished action the
assault of .Seringapatam; when, in requital of his
brilliant services, he was presented by the armv,
through the commander-in-chief, with the state sw(jnl
of Tippoo Sultaun, and also with a dress-sword
from the field-officers serving under his immediate
command at the assault.

The eminent merit of I'rigadicr-gencral Baird was
now fully known and acknowledgetl by the govern-
ment at home. He was therefore, in 1800, ap-
pointed to the command of an expedition against
Batavia, but which was afterwards sent to Egypt.
He landed at Coseir in June, crossed the desert,
and, embarking on the Kile, descended to Grand
Cairo; whence he set out for Alexandria, which he
reached a few days before it surrendered to (Jencral
Hutchison. Next year he led the Egyptian-Indian
army overland to India, where he was concerned in
various military transactions. His services, ho\\ ever,
being soon after superseded by .Sir Arthur Wellesley
(afterwards the illustrious protector of Europe), he
sailed for Britain with his staff, March, 1803, and
after a tedious voyage, during which he was taken
prisoner by a French privateer, but afterwards re-
taken, he arrived in England in November.

Sir David Baird was received at the Briti^^h court
with great distinction. In December he received
the royal permission to wear the Turkish order of
the Crescent. In June, 1804, he received the honour
of knighthood; and on the iSth of August following
became a knight -companion of the Bath. With the
increased rank of lieutenant-general he commanded
an expedition which sailed in October, 1S05, for the
Cape of Good Hope. Landing there, January 6,
1S06, he attacked and beat the Dutch army, and en
the iSth received the surrender of the cohny.
Being recalled, he arrived in Britain, April, 1S07,
and was shifted from the colonelcy of the 54''''
which he had held for some years, to that of the
24th, and placed on the foreign staff under Genera!
Lord Cathcart. He commamled a division at the
siege of Copenhagen, where he was twice slightly
wounded; and returned with the army in Novendxr.

After a short period of service in Ireland, Sir
David sailed in command of an armament of io,cco
men for Conmna, wliere he arrived in November,
iSoS, and formed a junction with the army ur.ikr
General Sir Jolin Moore. He commanded the Ur-i
division of that army, and in the battle of Coriinr.r..
January 16, 1809. he lost his left arm.

By tiie death of Sir John Moore in this act;, v.
.Sir David succeeded to the chief command, ar.'! l.r. 1
the honour of communicating intelligence ot tl.e
victory to goverimient. (_^n this (icca.-inn he recent'',
for the fourth time in his liff. the thank- of j r.i^;;,-
ment, and, Ai^il 13, was create'! a baronet, v..: a
very hnninirable ai'niorial bearings a':i;--i\e t'l tie
transactions of his life, .\fter thi> period be r.^v. r
.again appeared i:i active service. In i!sio !..•
married Miss Preston Camid'ell, of Fe.T.t. v. er .'.: i
Lochlane, Perth-hire, by whom lie '.ef: no ;--•,:•,. \-\
1S14 he was j^ronioteil'to t!-e rr.-ik '-( -<j:.^r..l. ?.■:. I
in iSlo became goven-.or 1 f K;r.-a!e ::'i lv'-'.:.::\ r.r. !
in 1S27 of Fort George in the i;' iili ot >C' t!a:,<!.
T!i;> lirave ve'eran died at r.n a'ivar.ce I a,". .\;:c->t
iS. lS::o. a; lii- -eat r.[ Fer:i-. ^v■ r i:: IVrtl-l^ire.
Il.-iadv, vh '-urvive : Iiin; :::. I>4:. create ; a n.e: u-

62

WALTER BALCANQUEL- -ALEXANDER BALFOUR.

ment to his memory on the top of a romantic hill,
named Tom-na-chaistel (i.e. the hill of the castle),
in the neighbourhood of Femtower.

BALCANQUEL, Walter, D.D., an eminent
divine of the seventeenth century, was the son of the
Rev. Walter Balcanquel, who was a minister of
Edinburgh for forty-three years, and died in August,
l6l6. Dr. Walter Balcanquel was born at Edin-
burgh. It has been supposed that he was himself
a minister of Edinburgh; but probably the writer
who makes this statement only mistakes him for his
father, who bore the saine name. He entered a
bachelor of divinity at Pembroke Hall, Oxford,
where, September 8th, 1611, he was admitted a
fdlouK He appears to have enjoyed the patronage
and friendship of King James, antl his first prefer-
ment was to be one of the royal chaplains. In 1617
he became Master of the Savoy in the Strand,
London; which office, however, he soon after re-
signed in favour of Mark Antony de- Dominis,
Archbishop of Spalatro, who came to England on
account of religion, and became a candidate for the
king's favour. In 161S Dr. Balcanquel was sent to
the celebrated synod of Dort, as one of the repre-
sentatives of the Church of Scotland. He has given
an account of a considerable part of the proceedings
of this grand religious council, in a series of letters
to Sir Dudley Carleton, which are to be found in
The Go/Jill Remains of the ever-memorable Mr. yolin
Hales of Eaton, 4to, 1673. In 1621, the Archbishop
of Spalatro having resigned the mastership of the
Savoy, Dr. Balcanquel was re-appointed; and on
the 1 2th of March, 1624, being then doctor of
divinity, he was installed Dean of Rochester. George
Heriot, at his death, February I2th, 1624, ordained
Dr. Balcanquel to be one of the three executors of
his last will, and to take the principal charge of the
establishment of his hospital at Edinburgh. Pro-
bably the experience which he had already acquired
in the management of the Savoy Hospital might be
the chief cause of his being selected for this impor-
tant duty. Heriot appointed Dr. Balcanquel, by
his will, "to repair with all the convenience he can,
after my ilecease, to the town of Edinburgh," in
order to conclude with the magistrates about the
busine.-.s of the hos])ital; allowing him, for his pains,
in addition to the sum of one hundred merks, which
he enjoyed as an ordinary executor, one hundred
pounds sterling, payal)le by two equal instalments —
the first three months after the decease of the
testator, and the second at the completion of the
hospital.

Dr. Balcanquel is entitled to no small commen-
dation fir the able manner in which he discharged
this great and onerous trust. The statutes, which,
in terms of the testator's will, were drawn \\\) by
him, are dated 1627, and do great credit to his
sagacity and ])ractical good sense.

Dr. Balcanquel's next appearance in the ])ublic
concerns of his native cmintry was of a less liap|iy
character. In 163S, when Charles I. sent down the
Marquis of Hamilton to Scotland, to treat with the
Covenanters, the Dean of Rochester accompanied his
grace in the capacity of chaplain. What was his
external behaviour on this occasion we do not k:io\v;
but it was afterwards siu'mised by the Covenanters,
that he had been dejiutcd by Archbisluip Laud as
a sjiy, at once upon the marquis, who was su-pccted
of moderation, and the people with whom he was
dealing. It is asserted by Sir James Balfour, in his
^[emorialls of State, that Dr. Balcanquel also com-
municated intelligence of all that hajijiencd in Scot-
land to Signer George Con, the iMjj;e's legate, "a..

some of his intercepted letters can beare recorde."
Early in the ensuing year was published an apolo-
getical narrative of the court-proceedings, under the
title of His Alajesties Lar;e;e I)eelaratio>i, eoneerniitg
the Late Tumults in Scotland, which by universal
and apparently uncontradicted report was ascribed
to the pen of Dr. Balcanquel. While this work was
received by the friends of the king as a triumphant
vindication of his attempts upon the purity of the
Scottish church, it only excited new indignation in
the minds of the outraged people, who soon after
appeared in arms at Dunse Law, to defend their
religious freedom with the sword. On the 14th of
May, 1639, at the veiy time when the armies were
about to meet on the borders, Dr. Balcanquel, ap-
parently in requital of his exertions, was installed
Dean of Durham. He had now rendered himself
a marked man to the Scottish Presbyterians, and
accordingly his name is frequently alluded to in their
publications as an ''''incendiary.'''' Under this char-
acter he was denounced by the Scottish estates, July
29, 1641, along with the Earl of Traquair, Sir John
Hay, clerk register, Sir Robert Spottiswoode, and
Maxwell, Bishop of Ross, all of whom were regarded
as the principal cruses of the war between the king
and his people. In the Canterhurian^s Self convic-
tion, a pamphlet written in 1641, by the Rev. Robert
Baillie, against Archbishop Laud, he is spoken of
in a style of such asperity, as might have convinced
him that, in the event of a complete triumph of the
Presbyterian party, he would share in the ])roceed-
ings which were now directed against that unhappy
prelate. Accordingly, the very next year, when the
king could no longer protect his partizans. Dr. Bal-
canquel was forced from his mastership of the Savoy,
plundered, sequestrated, and obliged to flee from
London. Repairing to Oxford, he attached himself
to the precarious fortunes of his sovereign, and for
several years afterwards had to shift about from
place to place, wherever he could find security for
his life. At length, having taken refuge in Chirk
Castle, Denbighshire, he died there in a very cold
season, on Christmas day, 1645. ^^^ "■'^^ buried
next day in the parish church of Chirk, where, some
years after, a splendid monument was erected to his
memory by a neighbouring royalist, Sir Thomas
Middleton of Chirk Castle.

BALFOUR, Alexander. This novelist, ]-]oet.
and miscellaneous writer was a native of the jxirish
of Monikie, Forfarshire, and was born on the 1st of
March, 1767. As he was a twin, and born of
parents in humble life, his support in childhood
and means of education might have equally been
])recarious, had he not been sup]5orted in boyhood
l)y a friend of the family, who also bestowed w^on
him such a religious training ns not only developed
his talents, but fitted him fur those adversities which
were afterwards to be Ids lot.

Having received a very limited education at the
parish school, where, however, he distinguished him-
self at the age of twelve years by his attempts in
English composition, Alexander Balfour was a]>])ren-
ticed to a weaver; but disliking this occuiiatitni,
which gave no sco]K' for his growing talents, he
returned home, and betook himself to the more con-
genial attempt of teaching a ])rivate school. In this
way he also taught himself, and during the intervals
of his daily toil gave proofs of his growing jirofici-
ency, by writing several articles for the ])rovincial
newspapers, and also for Dr. Anderson's miscellan)-.
The lice. After he had wielded the ferula long
enough in a rustic seminary to find that he was fit
fjr S'jmelhiiig belter, Balfour in his twenty-sixth

ALEXANDER BALFOUR —

year removed to the thriving town of Arbroath, and
became clerk to a sail-cloth manufacturer, on the
death of whom he entered into partnership in
business with the widow of the deceased; and upon
her death, in 1800, he took another partner into the
firm. A government contract into which they had
entered for supplying the navy with canvas made
their business a prosperous one, and lialfour, now in
circumstances of comfort, was able to cultivate his
literary tastes, and correspond with the learned and
talented of the Scottish capital. Having married
also in 1794, the year after his arrival in Arbroath,
he, in 1814, when he found himself father of a rising
familv, removed to a country residence at Trottick,
near Dundee. Here he also undertook the manage-
ment of the branch of a London house which for
many years had been connected with his own firm,
and into which he embarked his whole fortune.
But it was an unfortunate mercantile speculation, as
in 1815 the mercantile reaction which had occurred
on the sudden restoration of peace ruined the London
establishment, and Balfour found himself reduced
by the unforeseen stroke to utter bankmptcy.

Being thus reduced to his original poverty, with
the bitterness of disappointment and failure added
to it, the subject of this memoir was fain to accept
the situation of manager at a manufacturing establish-
ment in Balgonie, Fifeshire. Resigning this appoint-
ment, he afterwards, in 1818, removed to Edinburgh,
where he became a clerk in the establishment of
Mr. Blackwood, the eminent publisher. Here how-
ever a worse calamity than that of mere bankruptcy
in fortune awaited him, for in 1819 symptoms of
paralysis in his constitution began to appear, which
in October became so confirmed that he was obliged
to be moved in a wheeled chair. It was well that
the vigour of his mind and his literary aptitudes were
still untouched, as these were henceforth to fomi his
only occupation as well as means of subsistence.

Being now an author by compulsion as well as
choice, Balfour bravely girded himself for the task;
and his first production under these circumstances,
and upon which he had been some time previously
employed, was the novel entitled Campbdl, or the
Probationer, which was published in 1819. It was
a subject seUlom attempted, as it comprised the
literary exertions, the privations, the sorrows, and
disappointments of a licentiate of the church scram-
bling for the bare means of life wjiile in search of a
living — the manifold changes of occupation he must
undergo, and the unmerited rebuffs he must endure
in such a pilgrimage, now happily so rare, but
which were so abundant about forty years ago, out
of which Balfour contrived to manufacture a mar-
vellous talc of mirth, pathos, and varied incident.
It was suited to the day and has now passed into
oblivion; but at its appearance it became highly
popular, and being published anonymously, tlie
interot of it was heightened, an<l the public was
an\i<ius to know the name and circumstances of the
author. After tliis his pen was not allowed to lie
idle, and from his wheeled chair his productions
issued with a rapidity that would have been wonder-
ful, had nut auth')r>h:p l)een not merely his only occu-
pation but hi> solace. In the same year that his
novel of ('.'/;///',•// a[)|>eared, he edited the poetical
works of his deceased friend Richard Gall, to which
he also >u]')jilicd a l)iogi-a]i]iical preface. In 1S22 he
produced a three-volunieii novel enlilletl The Far in 0' s
Three Dan^hter;^ and tlii> in 1S23 was followed hv
The Fouitd'.nte; of GleittJiont, or the Smu^eilers Caz\\
also in three volumes. It was unfortunate, however,
that the last two novels proceeded from the Minerva
press, a circumslaace sufikient to condemn them to

•SIR ANDREW BALFOUR.

63

neglect let their merits l>e what they might. It wa.s
not to prose alone that Balfour confined himself,
and in 1820 he j)ubli>>hed Contemplation, and other
JWnts, in one volume 8vo, which added considerably
to his literary reputation. To the Scots Maj^azine
he had long been a contributor, and on the establish-
ment of Constable's EJudmri^li Mcrraziue his services
were secured for it by Thomas I'ringle, its editor.
His contributions to this periodical during tlie nine
years of its existence were so numerous, that of
themselves they would have filled three octavo
volumes; and the articles embraced a variety of
themes, but chiefly the manners of .Scottish rural
life — the theme in which his commencing novel (-f
Campbell had excelled, and in which he showed
himself comjiletely at home. To Constable's Ma^^a-
zine he also contributed many articles in verse, the
chief of which were "Characters omitted in Crabbe's
Parish Register." In these the delineations were so
truthful and striking, and the versification so musical
and terse, that they were perused with jdeasure and
surprise, and thought to be scarcely inferior t(j those
of Crabbe himself. In consequence of this favour-
able reception, Balfour was induced to publish these
sketches in one volume in 1825. In 1827, in con-
sequence of an application from Mr. Joseph Hume,
M.P., Mr. Canning conferred on Balfour a treasury
donation of ;i^ioo, in consideration of his genius and
misfortunes. Alexander Balfour, in addition to his
other literary labours, was until his death a copious
contributor to the Ediuhu7-;;;h Literary Gazette.
The last novel which he published was Ilr^ldand
Mary, in four volumes, a work of considerable
beauty and pathos, and soon after he died on the
I2th of September, 1829. After his death, a volume
of his remains was collected and published under
the title of Weals and IVild-Jlim-ers, by -Mr. D. .M.
Moir, M.D., who also prefixed an excellent memoir
of the author.

During the long illness of Alexander Balfour, and
the necessity of constant labour for the wants of the
day, he bore up not only with resignation ami
patience, but constant cheerfulness. Although so
long a prisoner to his chair, a continual smile was
upon his lips; and notwithstanding an impedimerit
in his s]:)eech, the effect of his malady, his conversa-
tion was always cheerful, and enriched with thouglit
and humour. lie was also rigidly temperate in his
habits, affectionate in his relationships of father and
husband, and religious in his feelings and jirincij'les.
U]K)n few indeed have misfortunes and sufferings sat
more amiably than upon Alexander Balfour.

BALFOUR, Sir Andkkw, Bart., M.D., who first
introduced the dissection of the liumr.n body into
.Scotland, and that at a very superstitious perioi!;
who ])rojected the first hos])ital in the couiury for
the relief fif disease and jioverty at the public exjier.se :
who was the founder of the botanic garden at 1 Jiin-
burgh, and almost the father of the science in Set-
land; who planned the Royal College 1 >f I'h} -ici.Ti> ex
L<liid)urgh; and bequeathed to the juib'.ic a mii-euni.
which at that time would have iieen an orn.inient t"
any miiversity t>r any metrojiolis — \\.-.s the t";.;li ni; i
youngest son of Sir Mich.acl Balfur oi" 1 »i.:,:n} ir.r
in I-'ife, and v,-as l><irn at tliat place on tlie i^tii • :
January. ir>,>0. lie jirosecuted liis sti'.'iies -.n t;.'
university uf .^t. Andrews, v.here he to,.k liis ,li,,;rer
uf.\.M. At this ]ieri"d l:i> educati' 'ii w.is >\:: x; :i:-
teni.Ied by his brother >:r James I'.ali'' iur. li.e Lur.. ;>
antiquary, an.d lyoii kif.g-.^t-arnis to Li'..-!:!'.- 1.. \\\\"
was about thirt_\- years olier lli.m l-.iniseil. .\t col-
lege he fir-t disc' ivt red his attncl.nie:.: to l-tany.
wlricli in hitn is said to b.ave leii to t;:c stU'.iy ct

64

SIR ANDREW BALFOUR.

l)hysic, instead of being, as it generally is, a hand-
maid to that art. Quitting the university about the
year 1650, he removed to London, where his medi-
cal studies were chiefly directed by the celebrated
ILarvey, by Sir Theodore Mayernc the distinguished
physician of King James L, and various other emi-
nent practitioners. He afterwards travelled to Blois
in France, and remained there for some time, to see
the botanic garden of the Duke of Orleans, which
was then the b(?st in Europe, and was kept by his
countrvman Dr. Morison. Here he contracted a
warm friendship for that great botanist, which con-
tinued unimpaired while they lived. From Blois he
went to Paris, where, for a long time, he prosecuted
his medical studies with great ardour. Hccompleted
his eilucation at the university of Caen, from which
he received the degrees of bachelor and doctor of
physic, on the 20th of .September, 1661.

Returning to London soon afterwards. Dr. Balfour
was introduced to Charles H., who named him as
the most proper person to attend the young Earl of
Rochester on his continental travels. After an
absence of four years, he returned with his pupil in
1667. During their tour he endeavoured, and at
that time not without some appearance of success, to
recall that abandoned young nobleman to the paths
of virtue, and to inspire him with the love of learn-
ing. Rochester hiniself often acknowledged, and to
Bishop Burnet in particular, only three days before
his death, how much he was bound to love and
honour Dr. Balfour, to whom, next to his parents,
he thought he owed more than to all the world.

On returning to his native country, Balfour settled
at St. Andrews as a physician. "He brought with
him," says Dr Walker, in his Essays on Natural
Ilistoyy, "the best library, especially in medicine
and natural history, that had till then appeared in
Scotland; and not only these, but a perfect know-
ledge of the languages in which they were written;
likewise many unpublished manuscripts of learned
men, a series of antique medals, modern medallions,
and pictures and busts, to form the painter and the
architect; the remarkal^le arms, vestments, and orna-
ments of foreign countries; numerous mathematical,
philosophical, and surgical instruments, which he
not only jiossessed, but used; with operations in
surgery till then unknown in this country; a com-
plete cabinet with all the simples of the materia
vtedica, and new compositions in pharmacy; and
large collections of the fossils, plants, and animals,
not only of ilie foreign countries he traversed, but of
the mo-t distant parts of the world."

Dr. Balfour's merit was too conspicuous to suffer
him to remain long at .St. Andrews. Li the year
1670 he removed to Ivlinburgh, where he imme-
diately came into great practice. Here, among other
improvements, he prosecuted the manufacture of
paper, and was the means of introducing that valu-
able art into the country —though fjr many years it
remained in a state of complete or nearly complete
dormancy; the people deriving stationery articles of
all kinds from Holland. Adjoining to his house
he had a small botanic garden, which he furnished
by the seeds he received from his f)reign correspon-
dents; and in this garden he raised many plants
which were then fn-.>t introcluced into Scotland.
One of his fellow-labourers in tiiis dc])artment was
Patrick Murray (jf Livingston, whom he had initiated
into the study of natural iiistory. This young gentle-
man, who enjoyed an anijile fortune, formcil at his
seat in the country a botanic garden, containing 1000
species of ])Iants, which at that ])eriod was a veiy
large collection. He traversed the wlioh; of France
in que.-.t of the plants of tiiat country; and on hi.

way to Italy he prematurely died of a fever. Soon
after his death Dr. Balfour transferred Murray's col-
lection from Livingston to Edinburgh; and with it,
joined to his own, he had the merit of laying the
foundation of the public botanic garden. The
necessary expense of this new institution was at first
defrayed by Dr. Balfour, Sir Robert Sibbald, and
the Faculty of Advocates. But at length the city
allotted a piece of ground near Trinity College church
for a public garden, and out of the revenues of the
university allowed a certain sum for its support.
As the first keeper of this garden, Dr. Balfour selected
Mr. James Sutherland; who, in 1684, published a
work entitled Hcrtus Edinhurgcnsis. (See Suther-
land.) The new institution soon became consider-
able: plants and seeds were sent from Morison at
Oxford, Watts at London, Marchant at Paris, Her-
man at Leyden, and Spottiswood at Tangier. From
the last were received many African plants, \\hich
flourished in this country.

Such efforts as these, by a native Scotsman, oc-
curring at a time when the attention of the country
seems to have been almost exclusively devoted to
contending systems of church-government, are tndy
grateful to contemplate. It is only to be lamented,
that the spirit which presided over them was pre-
mature in its appearance; it found no genial field to
act upon, and it was soon forgotten in the prevailing
distraction of the public mind. Sir Andrew Balfour
was the morning-star of science in Scotland, but he
might almost be said to have set before the approach
of day.

He was created a baronet by Charles II., which
seems to indicate that, like most men of literary and
scientific character in that age, he maintained a senti-
ment of loyalty to the existing dynasty and govern-
ment, which was fast decaying from the nation.
His interest with the ministiy, and with the munici-
pality of Edinburgh, seems to have always been con-
siderable, and was uniformly exerted for the public
good and for the encouragement of merit.

Upon his settlement in Edinburgh, he had found
the medical art taught in a very loose and irregular
manner. In order to place it on a more respectable
footing, he planned, with Sir Robert Sibbald, the
Royal College of Physicians; and of that respectable
society his brethren elected him the first president.
When the college undertook the publication of a
riiarmacopcTia, the whole arrangement of the viatcria
vicdica was committed to his particular care. P'or
such a task he was eminently qualified by his skill
in natural history. This jierformance made its ap-
pearance in 1685; and, in the ojiinion of Dr. Cullen,
it is superior to M\y f/ian/iaco/'ifia of that era.

Not long bef )re his decease, his desire to promote
the science of medicine in his native country, joined
to the universal humanity of his disposition, led him
to project the foundation of an hospital in Edinburgh.
The institution was at first narrow and confined, but
it survived to be exjianded into full sha])e, as the
Royal Infirmary, under the care of Oeorge Drum-
mond. Sir Andrew died in 1694, in the sixty-fourth
year of his age, after a severe conflict \\\\h the gout
and other jiainfu! disorders; which afforded him an
opportunityof dis])laying, upon theap])r()ach of death,
those virtues and that equanimity which had dis-
tinguished him during his life. His person, like his
mind and manners, was elegant. I le was possessed
of a handsome figure, witli a pleasing and expres-
sive countenance; of a graceful elocution; and, by
his natural disposition, as well as his long intercourse
with the higher ranks in society, of a most courteous
and ]X)lite demeanour. A \)Y\n\. of him was executed
at Paris; l>ut no cojiy is known to exist.

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

His library and museum were the anxious result
of fourteen years of travellinfj, and between twenty
and thirty more of correspondence. For their accom-
modation he had built an addition to his house when
he had nearly arrived at his fortieth year; but after the
building was completed, he found himself so infirm
as to be unable to place them in that order which he
intended. After his death his library, consistin}^ of
about 3000 volumes, besides manuscripts, was sold,
we sup|)ose by public auction. There is a printed
catalogue still extant. His museum was deposited
in the hall which was, till 1829, occupied as the uni-
versity library. There it remained many years, use-
less antl neglected; some parts of it falling to inevit-
able decay, and other parts being abstracted. "Yet,
even after 1750," says Dr. Walker, "it still continued
a considerable collection, whicii I have good reason
to remember, as it was the sight of it, about that
time, that first inspired me with an attachment to
natural history. .Soon after that period," to pursue
a narrative so deeply disgraceful to the age and the
institution referred to, "it was dislodged from the
hall where it had been long kept; was thrown aside,
and exposed as lumber; was further and further di-
lapidated, and at length almost com])letely demol-
ished. In the year 1782, out of its niiiis and rubbish
I extracted many pieces still valuable and useful,
and placed them here in the best order I could.
These, I hope, may remain long, and be considered
as so many precious relics of one of the best and
greatest men this country has produced."

From the account that has been given of Sir An-
drew r>alfour, every person conversant in natural
history or medicine must regret that he never ap-
peared as an author. To his friend Mr. Murray of
Livingston he .addressed a series of familiar letters,
for tiie direction of his researches while abroad.
Tiicse letters, forming the only literary relics of
15alfour, were subsequently published by his son, in
t!ie year 1700.

BAiiFOUH, Sir James, an eminent lawyer and
public character of the sixteenth century, was a son
of Ralfour of Monquhanny, in Fife, a very ancient
family. In youth, being designed for the church,
he made considerable proficiency, not only in ordinary
literature, but in the study of divinity and law; which
were all alike necessary in those times for an ecclesi-
astic, on account of the mixed character which the
age atlmitted to be assumed by such individuals.
Balfour, while still a young man, was so unfortunate
as to join with the conspirators who, after assassin-
ating Cardinal Beaton, held out the castle of St.
Andrews against the governor .Vrran. He seems.
however, not to have Ijeen a very cordial parti/an of
the consjiirators. John Knox, in his own vigorous
and plain-spoken maimer, styled him the Blasphan-
0!ts Baljatir, on account of his having refused to
communicate along with his reforming associates.
BaUour shared the fate of his companions in being
sent to tile French galleys,' and was confined in the

* The f >!I.i\vitv.,' iiii-.-'iotc of r,.-ilfoiir in connection with Knox
i> rel.itcd liy 1 >r. .M(.ric : -•' I'hc g.Tlleys returned to .Scotl.ind
in suiiiiner 1545, as Mc.\r .is I can collect, and continued for a
considerable time on the e.Lst coast, t.i watch for Knglisli
vessels. Knox's health was now greatly impaired by thf
severity of his conhnement. and he was seized with a fever,
during which his life was despaired of by all in the ship. I'.iit
even in this state his fortitutle of mind remained unsubdued,
and he couif irtcl his fell ow-prisiners with hopes of release.
To their anxious desponding in(U>irics, natural to men in their
situation, ' If he thought they would ever obtain tlieir liberty,'
his uniform answer was, 'Crod will deliver us to his glor\-,
even in this life.' While they lay on the coa-st t)ctwcen
Dundee and St. .Xndrews, .Mr. afterwards Sir James Hairi\ir.
who was conlined in the same ship, desired him to look at the
VUL. I.

same vessel along with Knox, from which he escaped
in 1550, along with the rest, by the tacit permission
of the French government.

Balfour seems to have afterwards joinerl in the
proceedings of the reformers, but only with courtier-
like temperance, and without exhibiting much zeal
in the Protestant cause. He was preferred to the
ecclesiastical ai)pointment of official of Lothian, and
afterwards became rector of Flisk, a parish in his
native county. In 1563 he was appointed by (^)ueen
Mary to be a lord of session, the court then i>eing
cmnposed partly of churchmen and partly of laics.
In 1564, when the commis.sary court was in.stitutcd
in place of the ecclesiastical tribunal, which had been
tlissolved at the Reformation, Balfour became one
of the four c(mimissaries, with a salary of 400 mcrks,
while the others had only 300. In Julv, 1565, the
(jueen extended the further favour of admitting him
into her privy-council.

Balfour was one of those servants of the state who,
being advanced rather on accouiU of merit than birth,
used at all times to give great offence to the Scottish
nobility. It seems to have never been su]i])osed by
this haughty class, that there was the least necessity
for talented or faithful service in the officials em-
])Ioyecl by majesty; birth andyc'/^ziv';/;^ were the only
cpialifications allowed by them to be of any value.
Accordingly, it is not surprising to find that the
same conspiracy which overthrew the "kinless" ad-
venturer Rizzio, contemplated the destruction of
Balfour. He was so fortunate, however, as to escape,
and even derived some advantage from the event,
being ])romoted to the office of clerk-register, in rocm
of Mr. James Macgill, who was concerneel in the
conspiracy. He was also about this time made a
knight, and appointed to be one of the commis-
sioners for revising, correcting, and publi.shing the
ancient laws and statutes of the kingdom.

In the beginning of the year 1567 .Sir James
Balfour was ajipointed governf)r of Edinburgh Castle.
In this important situation he naturally became an
object of great solicitude to the confederate lords,
who, in the ensuing May, commenced a successful
rebellion against (^ueen Mary. It would ajijicar
that Sir James was not now more loyal than man)-
other jiersons who had experienced the favour of
Mnry. He is said to have even been the means of
throwing into the hands of the confederates that
celebrated box of letters upon which they endea-
voured to ground the proof of her guilt. There can
be no doubt that he was at this time in the way of
receiving high favours from the Earl of Murray, who
was tlie chief man ojijiosed to the tlethn^incd (jueen.
lie was, in .Sejitcmber, 1567, admitted by Murray .a
lord of his privy-council, and maile commendator of
the priory of Pittenweem; and in December, a bargain
was accomplished, by which he agreed to accejH a
pension of ^5C)0 and the presidency of the cnurt of
session, in lieu of the clerk-registry, which Murray
wished to be restored to his friend Macgill. .Sir
James continued faithful to the jiarty which opposed
(Jueen Man,- till the death of Murray, January.
1569-70. when he was in some measure c^ni] elk J
to revert to the queen's side, on accoinit of a charci.'
preferreil against him by the succeeding reu'i.!,:.

land and see if he knew it. Thuui,'h at that tin.e
replied. " N'es, 1 know it well. f. r I see the ^t
place where Ciod first opened my ir,'".ith in pu'i h.
and I am fully persuaded, h 'u- ue;ik s-evcr I
that I shall n.it depart ttn^ life till tl'..it niv i-ni;'.:t
his godly name in tlie ^ame place.' 1 his ~*riki
James repeated in the presence I'f many wiiin--
of years tx.-fore Knox returned t.i Sr. .tl,ii;d. .11;
was very little pr-wjiect <^i his w^^rds bti:.^ VLrilie
Kiw.v, ist edit. p. 5j.

"l^v'J
en thL

/. :/;• ,
5

C6

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

Lennox, who taxed him with a share in tlie murder
of Damley. For this accusation no proof was ever
adduced, but even allowing Sir James to have been
guilty, it will only add another to the list of great
men concerned in the transaction, and show llie
more clearly how neither learning, rank, official
dignity, nor any other ennobling ciualification,' pre-
vented a man in those days from staining his hands
with blood. Balfour outlived Lennox, and was
serviceable in bringing about the pacification between
the king's and queen's party, under Morton, in 1573-
He would appear to have been encouraged by Mor-
ton in the task of revising the laws of the country,
which he at length completed in a style allowed at
that time to be most masterly. Morton afterwards
thought proper to revive the charge brought by Len-
nox against Sir James, who was consequently obliged
to retire to France, where he lived for some years.
He returned in 15S0, and revenged the persecution
of Morton, by producing against him, on his trial,
a deed to which he had acceded, in common with
others of the Scottish nobility, alleging Bothwell's
innocence of the king's murder, anil recommending
him to the queen as a husband. .Sir James died be-
fore the I4tli of January, 15S3-4. As a politician
his time-serving character, and facility with which
he veered from one party to the other, was pithily
characterized by the saying, "He wagged as the
bush wagged." Each change of the political wind
could be discovered by the changes of Sir James.

The Practicks of Scots Lan.', compiled by .Sir James
Balfour of Pittendreich, president of the court of
session, continued to be used and consulted in manu-
script, both by students and practitioners, till nearly
a century after his decease, when it was for the first
time supplanted by the Ijistitiites of Lord Stair.
Even after that event it was held as a curious re-
pertory of the old practices of .Scottish law, besides
fulfilling certain uses not answered by the work of
Lord .Stair. It was therefore printed in 1754 by
the Ruddimans, along with an accurate biograjihical
preface by Walter Cioodal. The work was of con-
siderable service to Dr. Jamieson in his Dictionary
of the Scottish Laii^i^imgc.

BALFOUR, Sir Jami.s, an eminent antiquar}',
herald, and annalist, was l)(jrn about the close of the
sixteenth century. He was the eldest son of a small
Fife laird, Michael Balfour of Denmylne, who de-
rived his descent from James, son of Sir John Balfour
of Balgarvy, a cadet' of the ancient and honourable
house of Balfour of Balfour in l'"ife. James Balfour,
the ancestor of Sir Michael, had olitained the estate
of Denmylne from James II., in the fourteenth year
of his reign, which corresjwnds with 1450-I.
Michael Balfour, the fatlierof Sir James, and als<j of
Sir .Andrew, whose life has l)een already commemo-
rated, was, in the words of Sir Rol/ert Siblxald,
"equally distinguished for military bravery and civil
prudence." He bore the honoural)le office of comp-
troller (jf the Scottish household, in the reign (jf
Charles I., and in 1630 was knigiited at Holyrood
House by fjeorge. Viscount Du])])lin, clmncellor of
.Scotland, under his majesty's s])ecial warrant. This
eminent personage was, by Jean Durham, (laughter
of James Durham of Bitarrow, the father of five
sons, all of whom attained to distinction in ])ul)lic
life, besides nine daughters, who ail funned lionour-
able alliances except two, who died unmarried. I le

' This branch w.is ennobled in 1607, in the yxrsnn of Mlrhn'l
Halfour of B.ilg.irvy, wht), h.iving scrvcl King J.iiiics in
•several embassies to the principal courts of Kiirope, was rrcalcil
Lord Balfour of Burleigh. This peerage was attainted in ( on-
sequcnce of the concern of its occupant in t!ie civil war of '715-

lived to see three hundred of his own descendants,
a number which his youngest son, Sir Andrew, lived
to see doubled.

.Sir Michael Balfour gave his eldest son an educa-
tion suitable to the extended capacity which he dis-
played in his earliest years. This education, of which
the fmits are apparent in his taste and writings, was
accompanied by a thorough initiation into the duties
of religion, as then professed on a Presbyterian model.
The genius of the future antiquary was first exhibited
in a turn for poetry, which was a favourite study
among the scholars of that period, even where there
was no particular aptitude to excel in its composition,
but for which Sir James Balfour appears to have hail
a genuine taste.

No specimens indeed of his poetry have survived,
but the poetical temperament of Sir James, and the
courtly grace which generally is, and ever ought to
be, the accompaniment of that character, is shown
in the following epistle to a lady, which we consider
a very elegant specimen of the English prose of the
age of Charles I., and, indeed, singularly so, when
the native country of the writer is considered: —

"To A Lady, -FOR a Friend,
"Madam, — You must appardone me if, after the
remembring of my best love to you, I should rander
you hartly thanks for your affectione, since thankes
are the best knowen blossomes of the hartes strongest
desyres. I never, for my pairt, doubtit of your affec-
tione, bot persuadit myselve that so good a creature
could never prove unconstant; and altho the fairest
dayes may have some stormy overshadowings, yet
I persuade myselve that these proceids not from hea-
venly thinges, bot from vapors arising from below,
and though they for a tyme conte[ract] the sun's
heat, yet make they that heat in the end to be more
powerfull. I hope your friends sail have all the con-
tentment that layes in my power to gif them: And,
since Malice ilselve can not judge of you bot noblie,
1 wisch that tyme make your affectione als constant,
as my harte sail ever prove, and remaine loyall; and
lest I seime to weirey you more than myselve, again
I must beg pardone for all my oversights (if you think
of aney) wich will be a rare jierfectione of goodness
in you to forgive freely, and love constantly him
quhosse greatest happines under heaven is always to
leive and die

"Your trcwly affcctional servant."

.Sir James seems to have spent some of the years
subsequent to 1626 in foreign countries, where he is
said to have improved himself much by observing
the manners of nations more polished than his own,
anil l)y forming the acquaintance of eminerit litei'ary
men. At the close of his continental travels he
spent some time in London, and obtained the IVientl-
ship of the distinguished antiijuary Sir Robert Cot-
ton, and also of .Sir William Segar, garter king-at-
arms. He had now turned his attention to the
study of heraldry, and the friendship of these inen
was of material service in the com])letion of what
might be called his jirofessional education. He also
contracted a literary acf|iiaintance with Roger Dods-
worth and .Sir William Dugdale, to whom he com-
municated several charters and other pieces of in-
formation regarding Scottish ecclesiastical antiquities,
which they attached to their Afoiuut.con yhi^licdinon,
under the title Ca-nobia Scotica.

Besides these antiquarian friends, Balfour secured
several others of a more courtly com])lexion, who
W(.'re natives of his own country. He enjoyed the
friendship of .Sir Robert Aytoun, the poetical cour-
tier, with whom he afterwards Ijecame distantly con-
nected bv marriage. He was also on the must

SIR JAMES BALFOUR.

67

familiar terms witli another poetical attendant on the
elegant court of Charles I. — the Earl of Stirling.
His chief patron, however, was George, Viscount
Dupplin, ' who held the high and almost vice-regal
office of chancellor of Scotland. By the recom-
mendation of this nobleman, aided by his own ex-
cellent qualifications, he was created by Charles I.
lord-lyon king-at-arms, a dignified legal office in
Scotland, in which resides the management of all
matters connected with armorial honours, as also all
public ceremonials. Sir Jerome Lyndsay having
previously resigned the office, Balfour was crowned
and installed at Ilolyrood Mouse, June 15, 1630,
having in the preceding month been invested with
the necessary honour of knighthood by the king.
On this occasion Lord Dupplin officiated as royal
commissioner.

Sir James Balfour now settled in Scotland, in the
enjoyment of his office. On the 21st of October he
was married to Anna Aiton, daughter of Sir John
Aiton of that ilk, and in January, 1631, he obtained,
in favour of himself and his spouse, a grant of the
lands and barony of Kinnaird in Fife. In De-
cember, 1633, he was created a baronet by Charles
I., probably in consequence of the able manner in
which he marshalled the processions and managed
the other ceremonials of the royal visit that year.
At this period of peace and prosperity a number of
learned and ingenious men were beginning to exert
themselves in Scotland. It was a peaceful interval
between the desolating civil wars of the minority of
King James and the equally unhappy contest w'hich
was soon after incited by religious and political dis-
sensions. Like soldiers enjoying themselves during
a truce, the people were beginning to seek for and
cultivate various sources of amusement in the more
elegant arts. This was the era of Jamieson the
painter — of Drummond the poet — of the geographer
Pont — and the historians Spottiswood, Calderwood,
Johnston, and Hume." Sir James Balfour, inspired
with the common spirit of these men, commenced
the writing of historj' with as much zeal as could be
expected in an age when, the printing of a written
work being a comparatively rare occurrence, litera-
ture might be said to want the greater part of its
temptations.

Sir James, as already mentioned, had been bred
a strict Presbyterian. In this profession he con-
tinued to the last, notwithstanding that, in politics,
he was an equally firm royalist. In a letter to
a young nobleman (Correspondence, Advocates' Li-
brary) he is found advising a perusal of "Calvine,
Beza, Parens, and \V]iittaker,"as "orthodox writers."

' AftenvarJs created Karl of Kinnoul, on the occasion of
the coronation of King Charles at Edinburgh in 1633. Sir
James Half jur relates the following curious anecdote of liis
lordship. 'I'he king, in 1626, had commanded, by a letter to
his privy council, that the Archbishop of St. Andrews should
Iiave precedence of the chancellor. To this his lordship would
never submit. "I remember," says Sir James, "that K.
Charles sent mc to the lord-chancellor on the day of his
coronation, in the morning, to show him that it was his will
and pleasure, hot onlie for that day, that he wold ceed and
give way to the archbishop; but he returned by me to his
majestie a wcry bniskc answer, which wa.s, that he was ready
in all humility to lay his office doune at his majestie's feet;
hot since it was his royal will he should enjoy it with the
knowen privile^ies of the same, never a priest in Scotland
should sett a f .ot Iiefore him, so long as his blood w.as bote.
Quhcn I had related his answer to the kinge, he said, ' Weel,
l.yone, letts goc to bu>iness: I will not medle farther with
that olde cankered gootish man. at quhose hand ther is no-
thing to be g.ained bot soiire words.'" What makes this
anecdote the more expressively illustrative of the rancour with
which the secular offirers and nobility lx;held the newly dl.,;-
nificd clergy is, that the lord-chancellor had just on the pre-
ceding afternoon been raised to the rank of Karl of Kinnoul.

^ l>.avid Hume of Godacruft, autlior of the //istoy 0/ t/:c

When the introduction of the liturgy imposed by
Charles I. roused Scotland from one end to the
other in a fit of righteous indignation. Sir James
Balfour, notwithstanding his connection with the
government, joined cordially with his countr)mfcn,
and wrote an account of the tumult of the 23d of
July, under the burlesque title of Stoueyfu-lJ J Jay.

Jiut, though indignant, in common with all pe(Ji)le
of his own persuasion, at the religious iimovations
attempted by the government. Sir James appears to
have very soon adopted tlifferent feelings. Like
many moderate persons who had equally condemned
the ill-advised conduct of the king, he after%vards
began to fear that the opposition would produce
greater mischiefs than the evil which w^as opposed.

It was probably in consequence of this feeling that
he retired to the royal hunting-palace of Falkland,
where, and at his seat of Kinnaird, he devoted him-
self to those studies by which the present may be
forgotten in the past. His annals, however, show
that he still occasionally appeared in public affairs in
his capacity of lord-lyon. It is also clear that his
political sentiments mu.st have been of no obtrusive
character, as he continued in his office during the
whole term of the civil war, and was only at last
deprived of it by Cromwell. During his rural re-
tirement at Falkland and Kinnaird, he collected
many manuscripts relative to heraldrj', and wrote
many others in his own language, of which some are
preserved in the Advocates' Librarv', while others
were either lost at the capture of Perth (1651), to
which town he had conveyed them for safety, or
have since been dispersed. Persevering with par-
ticular diligence in illustrating the History of Scot-
land, he had recourse to the ancient charters and
diplomas of the kingdom, the archives of monasteries,
and registers of cathedral churches, and in his library
was a great number of chronicles of monasteries,
both originals and the abridgments; but it is to be
deeply regretted that many of these valuable manu-
scripts fell into the hands of children, or perished in
the flames during the civil w-ars. A few only were
opportunely rescued from destruction by those wliu
were acquainted with their value. The style of
these monastic chronicles was indeed nide and
barbarous- but they were remarkable for the in-
dustrv-, judgment, and fidelity to truth, with which
they were compiled. For some time after the erec-
tion of monasteries in this kingdom, these writers
were almost the only, and certainly the most re-
spectable, observers in literature, as scarcely any
other persons preserved in writing the memory of
the important occurrences of the limes. In the.se
registers and chronicles were to be found an accurate
record of transactions with foreign powers, whether
in forming alliances, contracting marriagcb of st.itc.
or regidating commerce ; letters and bulls of the
holy see; answers, edicts, and statutes of kings;
church rescripts; provincial constitutions; acts ci
parliament; battles; deaths of eminent per>or.>:
epitaphs and inscriptions; and sometimes tlie natural
appearances of the seasons; the prevalent di.-easc-;
miracles an^l prodigies; the heresies that spmng wy.
with an account of the authors and tb.eir ]rL;iiish-
ments. In short, they conimiUed to writing cvcrx-
important occurrence in church and state, tl;at any
question arising in after-ages niiglu be .^ctt'.cc! li\"
their authority, and the unanimous cr'ntiiiiiawiai 01
their faithful and accurate chronicles. In ci l'ect;ng
and preserving tliese manuscripts, Pallour thei(.-l<ir,;
raised a monument to his nienitiry wh;ch tiic latc-t
posterity must revere. For he did sd f:"m a cui-
viction that ihe.-e old and approve: 1 airJv 'r.-. were tl;e
onlv miides to the k;:o\vIe;ii:e of fact^. a.> weii a.s

68

SIR JAMES BALFOUR ROBERT BALFOUR.

to correct evidence and reasoning on the remote
history of Scotland; and he considered them not
only of signal use to himself, but a valuable treasure
to the literature of the country. He therefore per-
severed throughout life in collecting such manuscripts,
without regard to either trouble or expense. The
catalogue wliich he left is still extant,* although
many, as already mentioned, were lost by the depre-
dations of the English and other causes. He formed
with great industry, and at a considerable expense,
a library of the most valuable books on every
subject, particularly in the branches of Scottish
history, antiquities, and heraldry. From these he
extracted every assistance they coukl afford in the
pursuit of his inquiries, and for further aid he estab-
lislied a correspondence with the most respectal)le
living historians, .such as Robert Maule, Henry
^Laule, David Buchanan, Gordon of Straloch, and
Drummond of Hawthornden, all of whom he regarded
through life with the warmest esteem and with the
greatest respect for their talents and accomplish-
ments.

He endeavoured to elucidate our history (which
was then involved in confusion) from tlie examina-
tion of ancient medals, coins, rings, bracelets, and
other relics of antiquity, of which he formed a
separate collection as an appendage to his library.
Observing also from historians that the Romans
had long been settled in Scotland, and had made
desperate attempts to expel our ancestors, both
Scots and Picts, he collected the inscriptions which
they had left on certain stone buildings, and tran-
scribed them among his notes. In compiling the
work to which he gave the title of Annals, our
author was more anxious to supply the deficiencies
of other historians, and to bring to light obscure
records, than to exhibit a continued and regular
history of Scotland. He therefore carefully ex-
tracted from old manuscripts, the names, dignities,
and offices of distinguished public characters, the
dates of remarkable transactions, and every other
circumstance of importance, and arranged them in
separate paragraphs. He was actuated by a generous
disposition to rescue from oblivion and the grave
the memory of illustrious men; for which purpose
he visited all the catliedrals and the principal parish
churches of the kingdom, and examined their sepul-
chres and other monuments, from wliich he copied
the epitaphs and inscriptions, carefully preserving
them in a volume. He deeply interested himself in
some laudable attempts to improve the geography
of .Scotland. .Sir Janies made also a survey of Fife,
his native county, examining particularly ancient
monuments, and the genealogies of the principal
families. He afterwards compiled a description of
the whole kingdom, of wliich tiie manuscript was so
useful to Bleau, that he dedicated to our author the
map of Lome in his Tlu-atnun Scoliu, and em-
bellished it witli the arms of IJalfour.

Zealous in the improvement and knowledge of
heraldr)-, he carefully reviewed, not only the public
acts and diplomas (jf nobility, but the contents of
ancient edifices, temples, and palaces, shields and
sepulchral monuments. When it had become proper,
from his years, to allow the I'rincc of Wales a
separate establishment, an infjuiry was ordered con-
cerning the revenues of the hereditary princes, as
stewards or lords-marshal of Scotland, in which
Balfour appears to have taken ]iart, as we fuid
among his manuscripts the following: "The true
present state of the principality of Scotland, with
the means how the same may be most conveniently

^ Mcmoria Bal/ouriana, p. \<)-zZ-

increased and augmented; with which is joined ane
survey, and brief notes from the public registers of
the kingdoms, of certain infeftmentsand confirmations
given to princes of Scotland; and by them to their
vassals of diverse baronies and lands of the princi-
palitie, since the fifteenth year of the reign of
Robert HI."

In the history of this country he displayed his
uncommon industry in his numerous collection of
manuscripts, in the great assemblage of historical
works in his own library, and in his careful inspec-
tion of the various manuscripts dispersed over the
kingdom, from which he generally extracted the
substance, if he did not wholly transcribe them,
forming a general index to such as were useful in
.Scottish history. Fie m^de several abridgments of
the registers of Scone, Cambuskenneth, and others,
and from the works of Major, Boece, Leslie, and
Buchanan, which, in proper order, formed parts of
his chronological works, along with relations of im-
portant transactions throughout the world. Besides
this he wrote a remarkably concise yet comprehen-
sive IIisio>y of the Alngs of Scotland, from Fergus I.
to Charles I. He also intended to have enlarged
the annals of the Scottish Kings from James I. to
the beginning of Charles II., of which he had finished
the two first James's on a more diffuse and extensive
scale. In other works, he wrote memoirs of James
III. IV. v., of Queen Mary, and of James VI., and
the transactions of Charles I., brought down to his
death. In natural history, he wrote an alphabetical
list of gems, with descriptions, their names and
qualities, and the places where they are produced.
Another work upon the same subject, written in
Latin, exhibited, from various authors, an account
of ingenious inventions or frauds practised in
counterfeiting and imitating precious stones.

.Sir James concluded an industrious, and, it would
appear, a most blameless life, in February, 1657,
when he must have been about sixty years of age.
He had been four times married: 1st, to Anna Alton,
by whom he had three sons and six daughters, and
who died August 26th, 1644; 2d, to Jean Durham,
daughter of the laird of Pitarrow, his own cousin,
who died without issue only eleven months subse-
quent to the date of his first wife's death; 3d, to
Margaret Arnot, only daughter of Sir Janies Arnot
of P'ernie, by whom he had three sons and three
daughters; 4th, to Janet Auchinleck, daughter of
Sir William Auchinleck of Balinanno, by whom he
had two daughters. Yet his family is now extinct
in the male line. The ylnnals and Short J\issages
of State, above alluded to, were, after nearly two
centuries of manuscript obscurity, published in 1824,
in 4 volumes 8vo, by Mr. Janies Ilaig of tlie
Advocates' Library.

BALFOUR, RoRERT, a distinguished philosopher
of the seventeenth century, was jirincipal of (niyenne
College, Bordeaux, anil is mentioned byMorhofas
a celebrated commentator on Aristotle. According
to I)ein])ster, he was "the phoenix of his age; a
philosopher ]irofoundly skilled in the Greek and
Latin languages; a mathematician worthy of being
compared with the ancients: and to those qualifica-
tions he joined a wonderfiil suavity of manners, and
the utmost warmth of affection towards his country-
men." This eminent personage aiipears to have
been one of that numerous class of .Scotsmen, who,
having gained all their honours in climes more
genial to science than Scotland was a few centuries
ago, are to this day belter known abroad than among
their own countrymen. According to the fantastic
Urquhart, who wrote in the reign of Charles L,

DR. ROBERT BALFOUR,

69

"Most of the Scottish nation, never having astricted
themselves so much to the proprieties of words as to
the i<nowledj,'e o( things, where there was one pre-
ceptor of lan;,'uages amongst them, there were above
forty professors of philosopliy: nay, to so high a pitch
did the glory of the Scottish nation attain over all
the parts of France, and for so long a time continue
in that obtained height, by virtue of an ascendant the
I'rench conceived the Scots to have above all nations,
in matter of tl.--ir subtlety in philosophical discepta-
tions, that there hath not been, till of late, for these
sjveral ages together, any lord, gentleman, or other,
in all that country, who being desirous to have his
son instructed in the principles of philosophy, would
intrust him to the discipline of any other than a
Scottish master; of whom they were no less proud
than Philip was of Aristotle, or Tullius of Cratippus.
And if it occurred (as very often it did) that a pre-
tender to a place in any French university, having,
in his tenderer years, been subfendary to some other
kind of schooling, should enter in competition with
another aiming at the same charge and dignity, whose
learning flowed from a Caledonian source, commonly
the first was rejected and the other preferred." It
nevertheless appears that Robert Balfour prosecuted
the study of philology, as well as that of philosophy,
with considerable success. His edition of Cleomedes,
published at Bordeaux, in 1605, ^' Latiiu versa, ct per-
pduo coiniiiciitario illitstrata" is spoken of in the
highest terms of praise by the erudite Barthius.
Other works l)y Balfour are, Gdasii Cyziccni Coin-
vieiitariiis Actorum Nkceiii Coucilii, Roberto Balforeo
inter prete, 1 604, folio; Commeittarius K. Balforei in
Or^anum lAi^icttm Aristotelis, 1616, 4to; and R.
lull for ei Scoti Coinntentariorum in lib. Arist. de
JViilosophia, tomus secundus, 1620, 4to.

BALFOUR, Dr. Robert. — This distinguished
minister of the Church of Scotland was born in
Edinburgh, in April, 1740. He was early trained
by his pious parents to the knowledge and practice
of Christianity. He received his education at Edin-
burgh, and when a mere youth he became a member
of a society which met for religious conversation and
jirayer. The devotional tendency of his mind, thus
early acquiretl, was a prominent feature of his charac-
ter through life. Of his college career no record has
been preserved. In 1774 he was ordained to the
ministry of the gospel in the small rural charge of
l.ecropt, near Stirling. Here he laboured with
nuich acceptance for five years, not inattentive mean-
while to his personal improvement, and in his pulpit
duties giving no doubtful presages of the jirofessional
distinction and influence to which he was destined
to rise. In June, 1779, he was translated to the
Outer High Church of Glasgow, then vacant by the
removal of Mr. Randal (afterwards Dr. Davidson)
lo Edinburgh.

At the time of Dr. Balfour's settlement in Glasgow
evangelical religion was at a low ebb in the Estab-
lished Church throughout Scotland, and Moderatism
was in the ascendant. Dr. Balfour, from the outset
of his ministry, warmly espoused the evangelical
cause, wliich he recommended alike by the power
of his preaching and by the active benevolence and
consistency of his life. His ministry in Glasgow
gave a fresh impulse to the revival and diffusion of
])ure and undefiled religion in the west of Scotland.
Ciiristian missions were then in their infancy, and in
Sc itland met with much opposition from the domi-
nant party in the Est.ii)lished Church. Dr. Balfour
was one of the founders (if the tdasgow Missionarv
Society, which was establislicil in 1796. a few months
after tlie institution of the London Missionary-

Society. He preached a striking sermon at the
commencement of the society, which was one of
the few discourses he ventured on publishing; and
one of his last public acts, twenty-two years after-
wards, was to sign a circular letter as its' president.
The following passage from the discourse just men-
tioned bears testimony to the earnest interest he felt
in the missionary cause, and affords an example of
a style of appeal, which, with the aid of his me-
lodious voice, keen eye, and graceful and fervid
elocution, must have proved singularly animating.
After describing the true missionary spirit and char-
acter, he proceeded — "We invite and press all of
this description to come forward full of the Holv
Ghost and of faith. We cannot, we will not tempt
you with worldly prospects — if you are right-hearted
men according to your profession, you will not seek
great things for yourselves — you must not think of
an easy life — you must labour hard — you must en-
counter difTiculties, opposition, and dangers; for
these, however, you are not unprovided.
We will follow you with our prayers, and with
every blessing in our power to bestow. But what
is of infinitely greater moment and advantage to you
is, that the Lord Jesus, whose religion you are to
teach, will be with you, and that he is greater than
all who can be against you. Depending then on
him alone for your own salvation, and for the salva-
tion of the heathen; seeking not your own jileasure,
profit, or honour, but that he may be glorified in
and by you, and by sinners converted from the error
of their way, be not afraid — be strong and of good
courage. To all who thus devote themselves to his
service we most heartily bid God speed. Fly, ye
angels of grace, from pole to pole, and from the
rivers to the ends of the earth, bearing to all men
the glad tidings of the everlasting gos]:iel; stop not
in this bold flight of philanthropy, till you convey
to the simple sons of the isles the knowledge of the
true God and eternal life — till you arrest the wander-
ings of the roving savage with the wonders of re-
deeming grace — till you dart the beams of celestial
light and love into the dark habitations of ignorance
and cruelty — till you convert the barbarous cannibal
to humanity, to Christian gentleness and goodness.
Hasten to the shores of long-injured Africa, not to
seize and sell the bodies of men, but to save their
perishing souls. Follow the miserable captives to
their several sad destinations of slaver.-, with the
inviting proclamation of spiritual liberty, while you
inculcate the strictest duly to their masters. Speed
your way to India, to repay her gold with the un-
searchable riches of Christ. Meet all the high pre-
tensions of the Brahmin religion and literature, and
all their fatal delusions and cruel impositions, with
the overpowering evidence of the Christian as a
divine revelation — with the fidl luminous display of
evangelical truth and holiness. Cease not. till you
see tlie whole earth filled with the knowledge of the
Lord, as the waters cover the channel of the sea.'"

Dr. Balfour was an eloquent man, Init his w.is nijt
an elocjuence which sought its reward in jM^jnilar
applause. It flowed spontaneously from a licart
deeply imbued with love to the Saviour ami t^ the
souls of men. Earnest preaching matte e.irnc-t
listening, and whilst his rL-jnitation in the ]'ul|':t
continued luiimjiaired to the close of h'.s l;tf. tiie
fruits of his ministry were abundant. nn'I 1;> Jn-
lluence extended far lieyond tlie limits of !:i- "wn
congregation. His jireaching was clear ar.'i .'m-
prehensive; textual, luminous. and ]i. iii-.Ied ; 1. \:;;li-;ing
a remarkable intimacy with the varieties "1 t_ 1
ex]-)erience, and a ]M-ofounil kiioule'l;^e '-t
nature; animated with a warm and ;.ersuasi% e e

r>!ian
nunan

70

ROBERT BALFOUR

EDWARD BALIOL.

ness; faithful and close in applying tlie tnith; anil
exhibiting an exuberant flow of appropriate and
powerful expression. He was not in the habit of
■writing his discourses at full length, but his prepara-
tions for the pulpit were never relaxed. Although
not displaying the plodding habits of the scholar, he
kept up his knowledge of general literature, and
cultivated an acquaintance with tlie works of tlie
best autliors in his own profession. His morning
hours were consecrated to study and devotion. He
possessed the power of readily commanding his
thoughts in the intervals of daily occupation, and
was in the habit, to use his own expression, of
"carrying about" with him the sulijects on which he
intended to preach. His stores of thought and
illustration were ample and exul^erant, and, being
giftetl with a ready utterance, he could on every
occasion express himself with ease and propriety.
Without the appearance of much labour, therefore,
he was able to appear in the pulpit with a felicity
and success to which men of inferior minds find it
impossible to attain after the most laborious efforts.
He seldom engaged in controversy, and did not
often obtmde himself upon the notice of church
courts, for tlie business of which, however, he showed
no want of aptitude. His modesty and humility
prevented him from issuing more than a few of his
more public and elaborate jirodiictions through the
press. An anecdote is related of him, which illus-
trates his disinclination to pulilish, as well as the
readiness with wliich lie couitl draw in an emergency
upon the resources of his richly-stored mind. On
one occasion, after having preached with much
acceptance on the divinity of Clirist, he was waited
upon by a young man, who, on his own part and
that of two companions, preferred an urgent request
that he would print his discourse, assigning as a
reason that it had completely relieved their minds of
doubts which they had been led to entertain on this
momentous doctrine, and that it was fitted to have
the same effect upon the minds of others similarly
situated. On the doctor expressing his aversion to
appear in print, his visitor entreated the favour of a
perusal of the manuscript. In this he was equally
unsuccessful; for it then appeared that the doctor, on
proceeding to the church, had found himself — from
some unwonted and inexj^licable cause — utterly in-
capable of recalling the train of tliought which had
occu]«ed his mind in preparing for the pulpit; and
at the last moment he was under the necessity of
choosing a new text, from which he delivered the
unpremeditated discourse that had produced such a
salutar\' impression upon the minds of his three
youthful hearers.

His attachment to his congregation was evinced
on the occasion of his receiving an offer to be pre-
sented to Lady Olenorchy's cliajiel in Edinburgh,
which he declined, although, in a worldly point of
view, it possessed considerable advantages over liis
charge in Olasgow. He was alike frank, friendlv,
and accessible to all classes of his peo])le, and had
always a kind word for the poor. He showed great
tact in dealing with the humbler members of his
flock, who sometimes came to the good man with
unreasonable complaints. When the old-fashioned
practice of the precentor reading line by line of the
psalm was discf)ntinued, an ancient dame jiresentcd
herself to the minister, to express her concern at the
innovation, at the same time gently reproaching him
for departing from a good old custom of our ])ious
forefathers — a custom, be it remembered, which had
been introduced at a time when few persons in a
congregation were able to read. "Oh, Janet," re-
plied the doctor, in a tone of kindly remonstrance,

"I read the psalm, and you sing it; what's the use
of coming over it a third time?" "Ou, sir," was the
ready answer, "I juist like to gust my gab wi't!"
In process of time "repeating tunes" were intro-
duced in the precentor's desk, and Janet hastened
forthwith to the minister, to lodge her complaint
against the profane innovation. "What's the
matter wi' ye now?" inquired the doctor, as he
welcomed the worthy old dame into his presence.
"The sang tunes, wi' their o'ercomes brocht into
the worship of the sanctuary," quoth she; "it's juist
usin' vain repetitions, as the heathens do." "Oh
dear no, Janet," slyly interposed the doctor, "we
juist like to gust our gabs wi't !"

Dr. Balfour rnarried, in November, 1774, Isabella
.Stark, daughter of Mr. Stark, collector of excise at
Kirkcaldy. She died in October, 1 781. In June,
1787, he married Catherine M 'Gilchrist, daughter
of Mr. Archibald M 'Gilchrist, town-clerk of the
city of Glasgow. She died in May, 1817. These
were not the only instances of domestic bereavement
which he experienced in the course of his life. He
preached on the day after the celebration of the
Lord's supper at Dumbarton, in July, 1786, with
an earnestness and solemnity more fervid and im-
pressive than ordinary, as if his mind were under a
powerful impulse. On his way home he received
information of the death of a beloved and only son,
in circumstances fitted deeply to wound his heart.
Henry, a fine spirited boy, had been left by his
father, then a widower, during an absence of some
days, under the charge of Air. and Mrs. Denniston
of West Thorn, and was accidently drowned in the
Clyde. After recovering from the first paroxysm of
grief occasioned by the heart-rending intelligence.
Dr. Balfour hastened to tender his sympathy to his
deeply afflicted friends, whose kindness had been
permitted to prove the innocent cause of involving
him and his family in this calamity. This he did,
in the first instance, in a letter of touching pathos
and beauty, which afterwards found its way to the
public, and was embodied in a little volume of Letters
addressed to Christians in Affliction, published in
181 7. The death of his son Archibald took jjlace
many years previously, on the day when he preached
the sermon by appointment of the Glasgow Mission-
ary Society. His own death was sudden. On the
I3tli of October, 1818, Dr. Balfour appeared to be
in his usual health and spirits. In the course of the
day he became unwell while walking out with a
friend, and made an effort to return home. But his
illness increasing, he was assisted into a friend's
house in George Street, from which it was deemed
imprudent to attempt to remove him. The symp-
toms were found to be those of apoplexy. He con-
tinued in a state of insensibility till the evening of
the next day, the 14th, when he expired. He died
in the seventy-first year of his age and forty-fifth year
of his ministry.

BALIOL, F.OWARI). King John Baliol had two
sons, Edward and Henry. The former seems en-
titled to some notice in this work, on account of his
vigorous, though eventually unsuccessful, attempt to
regain the crown lost by his father. When King John
entered into the treaty with the King of France, in
1295, it was stijndated in the first article that his son
Edward should marry the daughter of Charles of
Valois, niece to the French monarch, receiving with
her 25,000 livres de Toumois current money, and
assigning to her, as a dowr}', ^^1500 sterling of
yearly rent, of which ;^looo should be paid out of
King John's lands of J-ialii^l, Damjiier, Helicourt,
and Horne, in Frr.nce, and ;^5oo out of those of

EDWARD BALIOL.

71

Lanark, Cadzow, Cunningham,* Haddington, and the
castle of Dundee, in Scotland. This young prince
accompanied his father in his captivity in the Tower,
and was subsequently carried with him to France.
.\fter the death of John Baliol, Edward quietly suc-
ceeded to. the French family estates, upon which he
lived unnoticed till 1 324, when Edward II. com-
manded that he should be brought over to England,
apjiarently for the purpose of being held up as a rival
to Robert Bnice. Whether he now visited England
or not is uncertain; but it would rather appear that
he did not, as in 1326 he was invited by Edward
III. for the same purpose. At this time the English
monarch was endeavouring to secure a peace with
the King of Scots, but at the same time held him-
self prepared for war by mustering his barons at
Newcastle. Me seems to have thought that a threat
of taking Baliol under his patronage was apt to
quicken thedesiresof the Scots for anaccommodation.
Nevertheless, in the summer of this year, the Scots
made a bold and successful incursion into England,
under Randolph and Douglas, and King Edward
was obliged, April, 1328, to consent to the treaty of
Northampton, which acknowledged at once the in-
dependency of the Scottish crown, and the right of
Robert Bruce to wear it. No more is heard of
Edward Baliol till after the death of Bruce, when he
was tempted by the apparent weakness of Scotland
under the minority of David II. to attempt the
recovery of his birthright. Two English barons,
Henry de Beaumont and Thomas Lord Wake,
claimed certain estates in Scotland, which had been
declared their property l)y the treaty of Northamp-
ton; Randolph, the Scottish regent, distrusting the
sincerity of the English in regartl to other articles of
this treaty, refused to restore those estates; and the
two barons accordingly joined with Baliol in his
design. That the English king might not be sup-
posed accessory to so gross a breach of the treaty, he
issued a jiroclamation against their expedition; but
they easily contrived to ship 400 men-at-arms and
3000 infantry at Holderness, all of whom were safely
landed on the coast of Fife, July 31, 1332. Only
eleven days before this event, the Scottish people had
been bereft of their brave regent, Randolph, Earl of
Moray, who was almost the last of those worthies by
whom the kingdom of Bruce had been won and main-
tained. The regency fell into the hands of Donald,
Earl of Mar, in every respect a feebler man. Baliol,
having beat back some forces which opposed his land-
ing, moved forward to Forteviot, near Perth, where
the Earl of Mar appeared with an army to dispute
his farther progress. As the Scottish forces were
much superior in number and position to the English,
Baliol found himself in a situation of great jeopardy,
and would willingly have retreated to his shijw, had
that been possible. Finding, however, no other re-
source than to fight, he led his forces at midnight across
the Erne, surprised the Scottish camp in a state of
the most disgraceful negligence, and put the whole to
the rout. This .action, fought on the 12th of Au-
gust, was called the battle of Dupplin. The con-
(jueror entered Perth, and for some time found no
resistance to his assumed authority. On the 24th
of Septeinl)er he was solemnly crowned at .Scone.
The friends of the line of Bruce, though unable to
offer a formal opi)osition, appointed .Vndrew Morav
o( Bothwell to be regent in the room of the Earl of

is known to h.ive po<;sc-iscd in Cunning-
Ianils:--I.arss. N'.xldcsdale. Scnith.inn.in.

1 "John IU\1

him the foil iwii.^ ^ .. . ^,v....v.. .„.,.. ,,.,.,.

I'nlry. Hiffin, Ciini^hcuch, Drcshom, the frrent b.ironv of
Kihimrnock, together with I! omlinton and Hart>haw; extend-
ing in all to .about £Qi}>xi Scots of valued rent, or alxmt ^ijjCxjo
real rent at present. "— A" t'/v/i^LV/V .lyrsh:>t' /■miiii'u-j.

Mar, who had fallen at Dupplin. At Roxburgh, on
the 23d of November, Baliol solemnly acknowledge*!
Edward of England for his lu\^e lord, and surrendered
to him the town and castle of Berwick, "on account
of the great honour and emoluments which he had
procured through the good-will of the English king,
and the powerful and acceptable aid contributed by
his people." The two princes also engaged on this
occasion to aid each other in all their respective
wars. Many of the Scottish chiefs now submitted
to Baliol, and it does not ajipear improbable that he
might have altogether retrieved a kingdom which
was certainly his by the laws of hereditary succes-
sion. But on the 15th of December, the adherents
of the opposite dynasty suq)rised him in his turn at
Annan, overpowered his h(jst, and having slain his
brother Henry, and many other distinguished men,
obliged him to flee, almost naked, and with hardly
a single attendant, to England. His subsequent
efforts, though not so easily counteracted, were of
the same desultory character. He returned into
.Scotland in March, and lay for some time at Rox-
burgh with a small force. In May, 1333, he joined
his forces with King Edward, and reduced the town
of Berwick. The Scottish regent being overthrown
at Halidon Hill, July 19, for a time all resistance to
the claims of Baliol ceased. In a parliament held
at Edinburgh in February, he ratified the former
treaty with King Edward, and soon after surrendered
to that monarch the whole of the counties on the
frontier, together with the province of Lothian, as
part of the kingdom of England. His power, how-
ever, was solely supported by foreign influence, and,
upon the rise of a few of the hostile Scottish barons,
in November, 1334, he again fled to England. In
July, 1335, Edward HI. enabled him to return under
the protection of an army. But, notwithstanding
the personal presence and exertions of no less a
warrior than the victor of Cressy, the Scots never
could altogether be brought under the sway of this
vassal king. For two or three years Ed\\ard Baliol
held a nominal sway at Perth, while the greater ])art
of the country was in a state of rebellion against
him. The regent Andrew Moray, dying in July,
1338, w-as succeeded by Robert Stewart, the grand-
son of Bruce and nephew of David IL, who having
threatened to besiege Baliol in Perth, obliged him
to retreat once more to England. The greater part
of the countn,- speedily fell under the dominion of
the regent, nor was Edward HI. now able to re-
trieve it, being fully engaged in his French wars.
The Scots having made an incursion, in 1344, into
England, Baliol, with the forces of the northern
counties, was appointed to oppose them. Two
years after this period, when the fatal battle of Dur-
ham and the ca])ture of David II. had again reduced
the strength of Scotland, Baliol raised an insurrec-
tion in Galloway, where his family .connections gave
him great intluence, and speedily penetrated t<> tl.e
central parts of the kingdom. He gained, liowevcr,
no ]iermanent footing. For some years alter tl;;--
period .Scotland maintained a noble struggle iiii'icr
its regent Robert Stewart, against lioth the j rctc:-,-
sions of this adventurer and the jiower <■{ tlic K;r.g
of England, till at length, in 1355- <''. w^aiicil (a;i
with an unavailing contest, and feeling tlie ;t, [ n ach
of old age. Baliol resigned all his claims ww- tl'.e
hands of'Edward III. for the considerat:"ii ■t" 5CC0
merks. and a yearly pension of /2i.<xd. AruT i!i:s
surrender, which was transacted at Kn.xl'-.irgli. .ir.d
inclu<led his personal estates, a- well .i~ h> k:ii,;':' n:,
this imtnrtunate jiriiice retired t" lM-.,:.:la!;il. '■ 1 ne
fate of E<hvard Balinl." say. Lord llailc-.. '-wa^
sin.:ular. la his invasion ol Scollar.d .;v,r;r.g tne

72

JOHN BALIOL.

minority o£ David Bruce, he displayed a bold spirit
of enterprise, and a courage superior to all difficulties.
By the victory at Dupplin he won a crown; some
few weeks after, he was surprised at Annan and lost
it. The overthrow of the Scots at Halidon, to
which he signally contributed, availed not to his re-
establishment. Year after year he saw his partisans
fall away, and range themselves under tiie banner
of his competitor. He became the pensioner of
Edward HI. and the tool of his policy, assumed or
laid aside at pleasure: and at last, by his surrender
at Roxburgh, he did what in him lay to entail the
calamities of war upon the Scottish nation, a nation
already miserable through the consequences of a
regal succession disputed for threescore years. The
remainder of his days was spent in obscurity; and
the historians of that kingdom where he once reigned
know not the time of his death." It may further be
mentioned, that neither these historians, nor the
Scottish people at large, ever acknowledged Edward
Baliol as one of the line of Scottish monarchs. The
right of the family of Bruce, thougli inferior in a
hereditar}' point of view, having been confirmed by
parliament on account of the merit of King Robert,
this shadowy intruder, though occasionally dominant
through the sword, could never be considered the
legitimate monarch, more especially as he degraded
himself and his country by a professed surrender of
its independence, and even of a part of its territory,
to a foreign enemy. He died childless, and, it
would also appear, unmarried, in 1363, when he
must have been advanced to at least the age of
seventy.

BALIOL, JoHX, King of Scotland, was the son
of John de Baliol, of Bernard's Castle in the county
of Durham, a lord of great opulence, being possessed
of thirty knights' fees (equal to ;^i2,ooo of modern
money), and who was a steady adherent of Henry
HI. in all his civil wars. The mother of Baliol
was Devorgilla, one of the three daughters and co-'
heiresses of Allan, Lord of Galloway, by Margaret,
eldest daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon,
brother of >Ialcolm IV. and William the Lion, kings
of Scotland. The first of the English family of
Baliol was a Xorman noble, proprietor of the manors
of Baliol, Harcourt, Dampat, and Home in I" ranee,
and who, coming over with the Conqueror, left a son,
Guy, wliom William Rufus appointed to be lord
of the forest of Teesdale and Marwood, giving him
at the same time the lands of Middleton and Guise-
ford in Northumberland. Guy was the father of
Bernard, who built the strong castle on the Tees,
called from him Beruard's Castle, luistace, son of
this noljle, was the father of Hugh, wlio was the
father of John de Baliol,' the father of the King of
Scotland.

1 Johndc Baliol has distinguished himself in English literary
history, by founding one of the colleges of (Jxford, which still
l>ears his name. As this institution is connected in more ways
than one with Scotland, the following account of its foundation,
frorn Chalmers llUloryof Oxford, may be read with interest: —
"The wealth and political consecjucnce of John de I'aliol were
dignified by a love of learning, and a l)enevolence of disposi-
tion, which about the year 1263 or 1268, as Wood thinks ,
induced him to maintam certain yjoor scholars of Oxford, in
number sixteen, by exhibitions, i)crhaps with a view to some
more permanent establishment, when he should have leisure
to mature a plan for that purpose. On his death in 1269,
which appears from this circumstance to have been s\idden, he
could only recommend the objects of his bounty to his lady
.and his executors, but left no written deed or authority: and
as what he had formerly given was from his personal estate,
now in other hands, the farther care of his scholars would in
all probability have ceased, had n'H his lady l«;en jiersuaded
to fulfil his intention in the most honourable manner, by taking
i;pon hsrself the future maintenance of them '1 he

The circumstances which led to the appearance of
John Baliol in Scottish history may Ix; thus briefly
narrated. By the death of Alexander HI. the crown
of Scotland devolved on the Maiden of Norway,
Margaret, the only child of Alexander's daughter,
late Queen of Norway. As she was only three years
of age, and residing in foreign parts, the convention
of estates made choice of six noblemen to be regents
of the kingdom during her absence or minority; but
dissensions soon arising among them, Eric, King of
Norway, interposed, and sent plenipotentiaries to
treat with Edward, King of England, concerning the
affairs of the infant queen and her kingdom. Edward
had already formed a scheme for uniting England and
Scotland, by the marriage of his eldest son with
Margaret, and accordingly, after holding conferences
at Salisbur)', he sent an embassy to the parliament
of Scotland on the 1 8th of July, 1290, with full powers
to treat of this projected alliance. The views of
Edward were cheerfully met by the parliament of
Scotland: a treaty was drawn out honourable to both
parties, in which — to guard against any danger that
might arise from so strict an alliance with such a
powerful and ambitious neighbour — the freedom and
independency of Scotland were fully acknowledged
and secured; and commissioners were despatched to
Norway to conduct the young queen into her domin-
ions. But this fair hope of lasting peace and union
was at once overthrown by the death of the princess
on her passage to Britain; and the crown of Scotland
became a bone of contention between various
competitors, the chief of whom were John Baliol,
Lord of Galloway; Robert Bruce, Lord of Annan-
dale; and John Hastings, Lord of Abergavenny. In
order to understand the grounds of their several
claims, it will be necessary to trace briefly their
genealogy.

On the death of the Maiden of Norway, Alex-
ander's grandchild, the crown of Scotland devolved
upon the posterity of David, Earl of Huntingdon,
younger brother, as already mentioned, of the kings
Malcolm and William. David left three daughters,
Margaret, Isabella, and Ada. Margaret, the eldest
daughter, married Allan, Lord of Galloway, by
whom .she had an only daughter, Devorgilla, married
to John Baliol, by whom she had John Baliol, the
subject of this article, who therefore was great-

first step which the Lady Devorgilla took, in providing for
the scholars, was to have a house in Horsemonger Lane, after-
wards called Canditch from Catuiida Fossa in St. ^L^ry
^Lagdalene's parish, and on the site where the present college
stands; and being supported in his design by her husband's
executors, continued the provision which he .allotted. In 1282
she gave them statutes under her .seal, and appointed Hugh de
HartipoU and William de Menyle as procurators or governors
of her scholars. ... In 1284 the Lady Devorgilla pur-
chased a tenement of a citizen of Oxford, called Mary's Hall,
■as a perpetual settlement for the principal and scholars of the
house of Baliol. This edifice, after receiving suitable repairs
and additions, was called New Baliol Hall, and their former
residence then began to receive the name of (Jld Baliol Hall.
The same year she made over certain lands in the county of
Northumberland, the greater part of which was afterw.ards
lost. The foundati(m. however, was about this time confirmed
by Oliver, Bishop of Lincoln, and by the son of the founder,
who was afterwards King of Scotland, and whose consent in
this matter .seems to entitle him to the veneration of the society.
. . . The revenues of the college were at first small, yield-
ing only eightpence per 'avek to each scholar, or twcnty-.seven
poimds nine shillings and fourjjence for the whole /<v (!«««;«.
which was soon found insuflficient. A number of l>enefactors,
however, promoted the purposes of the founder, by enriching
the establishment with gifts of land, money, and church-
livings."

Mr. Chalmers also mentions, that in 1340 a new set of
statutes for the college received, amongst other confirmatory
seals, that of " Edward lialiol. King of .Scotland," namely, the
grandson of the foimder. The seal attached by Devorgilla to
the original statutes contains a portrait of her. She died in
1289.

JOHN BALIOL.

73

grandsoa to David, Earl of Huntingdon, by his
eldest daughter. Isabella, the second daughter of
David, married Robert Bruce, by whom she had
Robert Bruce, the competitor — who therefore was
grandson to tlie Earl of Huntingdon by his second
daughter. Atla, youngest daughter of David, mar-
ried John Hastings, by whom she had John Hastings
— who therefore was grandson to David by his third
daughter. Hastings could have no claim to the
crown wliile the posterity of David's elder daughters
were in b;iing; but he insisted that the kingdom
should be divided into three parts, and that he
should inherit one of them. As, however, the king-
dom was declared in<livisible, his pretensions were
excluded, and the difficulty of the question lay be-
tween the two great competitors, Baliol and Bruce,
— whether the more remote by one degree, descended
from the eldest daughter, or the nearer l)y one degree,
descended from the second daughter, had the better
title.

The divided state of the national mind as to the
succession presented a favourable opportunity to the
ambitious monarch of England for executing a design
which he had long cherished against the independ-
ence of Scotland, by renewing the unfounded claim
of the feudal superiority of England over it. It has
been generally supposed that he was chosen arbitrator
by the regents and states of Scotland in the compe-
tition for the crown; but it appears that liis interfer-
ence was solicited by a few only of the Scottish
nobles who were in his own interest. Assuming
this, however, as the call of tlie nation, and collecting
an army to support his iniquitous pretensions, he re-
questetl the nobility and clergy of Scotland, and the
competitors for the crown, to meet him at Norham
within the P^nglish territories. There, after many
professions of good-will and affection to Scotland,
he claimed a right of lo;d paramount over it, and re-
fjuired that this light should be immediately recog-
nized. The Scots were struck with amazement at
this unexpected demand; but, feeling themselves en-
tirely in his power, could only retpiest time for the
consideration of his claim. Another meeting was
fixed upon; and during the interval he employed
every method to strengthen his party in Scotland,
and by threats and promises to bring as many as
possible to acknowledge his superiority. His pur-
pose was greatly forwarded by the mutual distrusts
and jealousies that existed among the Scots, and by
the time-serving ambition of the competitors, who
were now multiplied to the number of thirteen —
some probably stirred up to perplex the question,
and others perhaps prompted by vanity. On the
day appointed (2d June, 1291) in a plain opposite to
the castle of Norham, the superiority of the crown of
England overthe crown of Scotland was fully acknow-
ledged by all the competitors for the latter, as well as
by many barons and prelates; and thus Edward
gained the object on which his heart had been long
set, by conduct disgraceful to himself as it was to
th')se who had the government and giiardianship of
Scotland in keeping. All the royal castles and
places of strength in the country were put into his
hands, under the security that he should make full
restitution in two months from the date of his award,
and with the ostensible reason that he might have
a kingdom to be-.tow on the person to whom it
sliould be adjudged. I laving thus obtained his wish,
he proceeded to take some steps towards determining
the claim of the comju'titors. Commissioners were
appointed to meet at Berwick; and after various de-
liberations, the crijwn was finally adjudged to John
Baliol, on the 19th of Novemljcr, 1292, and next day
Baliol swore fealtv to Edward at Norham.

Baliol was crowned at Scone shortly after; but,
that he might not forget his dependency, Edward re-
called him into England immediately after his coro-
nation, and made him renew his homage and fealty
at Newcastle. He was soon loaded with fresh in-
dignities. In the course of a year he received no
fewer than six citations to a|)i)ear before Eduard in
the English parliament, to answer private and unim-
portant comidaints which were preferred against him
by his subjects. Although led by an insidious jx/iicy,
and his own ambition, into the most humiliating con-
cessions, Baliol seems not to have been destitute of
spirit, or to have received without resentment the in-
dignities laid upon him. In one of the causes before
the parliament of England, being asked for his de-
fence— "I am king of Scotland," he said, "I dare
not make answer lure without the advice of my
people." "What means this refusal?" said Edward,
"you are my liegeman; you have done homage to
me; you are here in consequence of my summons I"
Baliol replied with firmness, "In matters which re-
spect my kingdom I neither dare nor shall answer in
this place, without the advice of my ])eople." Ed-
ward requested that he would ask a delay for the
consideration of the question; but Baliol, jjerceiving
that his so doing would be construed into an acknow-
ledgment of the jurisdiction of the English parlia-
ment, refused.

In the meantime, a war breaking out between
France and England, Baliol seized upon it as a favour-
able oijportunity for shaking off a yoke that had
Viecome intoleraljle. He negotiated a treaty with
Philip, the Erench king, on the 23d October, 1295,
by which it was agreed to assist one ancnher against
their common enemy, the King of England, and not
to conclude any separate peace. At the same time
Baliol solemnly renounced his allegiance to Edward,
and received from the pope an absolution from the
oaths of fealty which he had sworn. The grounds
of his renunciation were these — That Edward had
wantonly, and upon slight suggestions, summoned
him to his courts; — that he had seized his English
estates, his goods, and the goods of his subjects; —
that he had forcibly carried off, and still retained, cer-
tain natives of Scotland; — and that, when remon-
strances were made, instead of redressing, he had
continually aggravated these injuries. Pldward is
said to have received BalioTs renunciation witli more
contempt than anger. "The fool i.-,h traitor," lie ex-
claimed, "since he will not come to us, we will go to
him." He accordingly raised a large army; and.
sending his brother into France, resolved himself, in
person, to make a total contpiest of Scotland.

While Edward advanced towards Berwick, a small
army of Scots broke into NorthundK-rland and Cum-
berland, and ])lundered the countiy. The ca-tle ni
Werk was taken; and looo men, whom l-idward
sent to jireserve it, falling into an amliusli, weic
slain. An English squadron, also, which l)Iocked I'.ii
Berwick l)y sea, was defeated, and sixteen ct their
ships sunk. But these ]iartial succe--se> were I'l-
lowed by fatal losses. The King of Ijiglaiui %\."-
a brave and skilful general; he coiuluctci a ]M.\\er-
ful army against a weak and di>pirite<l nation, l)ea':e<i
by an unpopular jirince. and distracted by I'ar'.y ar.;-
mosities. His eventual success was tl.ere!' le a~
complete as might have been antic;;. Ue'!. He
crossed the Tweetl at Cold-tream. t.".k Herwi^k. v:A
juit all the garrison and inhal'itaiiis to tl.c >\e. r.i.
The castle of Roxburgh was deliverei! ii'.t'' hi- i.a;i<is;
and he hastened Warenne. Earl of Sr.rrey. f rwanl,
to besiege Dunbar. Warenne wa- t!xre met 1 y tlie
Scots armv, who. aliandiining tlie a '.^ ..:.;.'ige oi tlieir
situation, jioured down tuniultuou~iy y\\ li.e I^iigloh,

74

JOHN BALIOL.

and were repulsed with terrible slaughter. After
this defeat, the castles of Dunbar, Edinburgh, and
Stirling fell into Edward's hands, and he was soon
in possession of the whole of the south of Scotland.

Baliol, who had retired beyond the river Tay with
the shattered remains of his army, despairing of mak-
ing any effectual resistance, sent messengers to im-
plore the mercy of Edward. The haughty Planta-
genet communicated the hard terms upon wliicli
alone he might hope for what he asked; namely,
an unqualified acknowledgment of his "unjust and
wicked rebellion," and an unconditional surrender of
himself and his kingdom into the hands of his master.
Baliol, whose life presents a strange variety of mag-
nanimous efforts and humiliating self-alxasements,
consented to these conditions; and the ceremony of
his degradation accordingly took place, July 2, 1296,
in the cliurchyard of Stracatiiro, a village near Mon-
trose. Led by force and in fear of his life into the
presence of the Bishop of Durliam and the English
nobles, mounted on a sorry horse, he was first com-
manded to dismount; and his treason being pro-
claime.l, they [jroceeded to strip him of his royal
ornaments. The crown was snatched from his head,
the ermine torn from his mantle, the sceptre wrested
from his hand, and everytliing removed from him
belonging to the state and dignity of a king. Dressed
only in liis shirt and drawers, and holding a wliite
rod in his liand, after tlie fashion of penitents, he
confessed that, by evil and false counsel, and through
his own simplicity, he had grievously offended his
liege lord, recapitulated all the late transactions, and
acknowledged himself to be deservedly deprived of
his kingdom. He then absolved his people from their
allegiance, and signed a deed resigning his sove-
reignty over them into the hands of King Edward,
giving his eldest son as a hostage for his fidelity.

The acknowledgment of an English paramountcy
has at all times been so disagreeable to the Scottish
people, and the circumstances of this renunciation of
the kingdom are so extremely humiliating to national
pride, that John Baliol has l^een ever since held in
hatred and contem])t, and is scarcely allowed a place
in the ordinary rolls of the Scottish monarchs. It
must i)e said, however, in his defence, that his first
acknowledgment of the paramountcy was no more
than what his rival Bruce and the greater part of the
nobles of the kingdom were also guilty of; while he
is certainly entitled to some credit for his efforts to
shake otf the yoke, however inadequate his means
were for doing so, or whatever ill fortune he experi-
enced in the attempt. In his deposition, notwith-
standing some equivocal circumstances in his sul^se-
quent histfjry, he must l)e looked upon as only the
victim of an overwhelming force.

The hi^tory of John Haliol after his deposition is
not in general treated with much minuteness Ijy the
Scottish historians, all of whom seem to have wished
to close their eyes as much as possible to the whole
affair of the resignation, and endeavoured to forget
that the principal personage crmcerned in it had ever
been King of Scotland. This history, however, is
curious. The discrowned monarch and his son were
immediately transmitted, along with the stone of
Scone, the records of the kingdom, and all other me-
morials of the national indejiendence, to London,
where the two unfortunate jjrinces were committed
to a kind of honourable captivity in the Tower.
Though the country was reducs-d by the ICnglish
army, several insurrections which broke out in the
subsequent year showed that the hearts of the ]K-ople
were as yet unsubdued. Tlic^c insurgents invariably
rose in the name of the dep'iscd king John, and
avowed a resolution to submit to no otlier authoritv.

It is also worth remarking, as a circumstance favour-
able to the claims and character of Baliol, that he
was still acknowledged by the pope, the King of
P" ranee, and other continental princes. When Wal-
lace rose to unite all the discontented spirits of the
kingdom in one grand effort against the English
yoke, he avowed himself as only the governor of the
kingdom in name of King John; and there is a charter
still extant, to which the hero appended the seal of
Baliol, which seems, by some chance, to have fallen
into his hands. The illustrious knight of Elderslie,
throughout the whole of his career, acknowledged no
other sovereign than Baliol; and, what is perhaps
more remarkable, the father of Robert Bruce, who
had formerly asserted a superior title to the
crown, and whose son afterwards displaced the
Baliol dynasty, appeared in arms against Edward in
favour of King John, and in his name concluded
several truces with the English officers. There is
extant a deed executed on the 13th of November,
1299, by William, Bishop of St. Andrews, Robert
Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and John Comyn the younger,
styling themselves guardians of the kingdom of Scot-
land; in which they petition King Edward for a ces-
sation of hostilities, in order, as they afterwards ex-
pressed themselves, that they might live as peaceable
subjects under their sovereign King John.

There is, however, no reason to suppose that these
proceedings were in accordance with any secret in-
structions from Baliol, who, if not glad to get quit of
his uneasy sovereignty at the time he resigned it, at
least seems to have afterwards entertained no wish
for its recovery. A considerable time before his in-
surgent representatives made the above declaration
in his behalf, he is found executing a deed of the fol-
lowing tenor: "In the name of God, amen. In the
year 1298, on the 1st of April, in the house of the
reverend father, Anthony, Bishop of Durham, with-
out London. The said bishoj) discoursing of the
state and condition of the kingdom of Scotland, and
of the inhabitants of the said kingdom, before the
noble Lord John Baliol; the said John, of his own
proper motion, in the presence of us, the notar}', and
tlie su1)scribing witnesses, amongst other things, said
and delivered in the French tongue to this effect,
that is to say, that while he, the said realm of .Scot-
land, as king and lord thereof, held and governed,
he had found in the people of the said kingdom so
much malice, fraud, treason, and deceit, that, for their
malignity, wickedness, treachery, and other detestable
facts, and for that, as he had thoroughly understood,
they had, while their prince, contrived to poison him,
it was his intention never to go or enter into the
said kingdom of Scotland for the future, or with the
said kingdom or its concerns, either by himself or
others, to intermeddle, nor, for the reasons aforesaid,
and many others, to liavc anything to do with the
Scots. At the same time, the said John desired the
said Bisho]> of Durham, that he would accpiaint the
most magnificent jirince, and his lord, Edward, the
most illustrious King of England, with his intention,
will, and firm resolution in this respect. This act
was signed and sealed by the public notary, in the
presence of the Bishop of Durham aforesaid, and (jf
Ralph de Sandwich, constable of the Tower of
London, and others who heard this discourse."'

We regret for the honour of Scotland, that, exce])t-
ing the iiiitc ni this shameful libel, there is no other
reason for sup]iosing it to be dictated in an insincere
spirit. lialiol now appears to have really enter-
tained no higher wish than to regain his ])ersonal
liberty, and be permitted to spend the rest of his

1 rryiiitc's CotlcciioKS, iii. CC5.

JOHN BALLENTVNE.

75

days in retirement. Accordingly, having at last con-
vinced King Kdward of his sincerity, he and his son
were delivered, on the 20th of July, 1299, to the pope's
legate, the IJishop of Vicenza, by whom they were
transported to France. The unfortunate Baliol
lived there upon his ample estates till the year 1314,
when he died at his seat of Castle Galliard, aged
about fifty-five years. Though thus by no means
advanced in life, he is said to have been afflicted
with many of the infirmities of old age, among which
was an entire deprivation of sight.

BALLENTYNE (or Bellenden), John,—
otherwise spelled Ballaiiden and BalUntyn — an emi-
nent poet of the reign of James V., and the translator
of Boece's Latin History, and of the first five books of
Livy, into the vernacular language of his time, was
a native of Lothian, and appears to have been bom
towards the close of the 15th century. lie studied
at the university of St. Andrews, where his name is
tiius entered in the records: "1508, yo. Balletyu
nut. Lan [(/<;«/«?]." It is probable that he remained
there for several years, which was necessary before
he could be laureated. His education was afterwards
completed at the university of Paris, where he took
the degree of Doctor of Divinity; and, as has been
remarked by his biographer \\Vorks 0/ Bellenden,
i. .xxxvii.], "the effects of his residence upon the
Continent may be traced both in his idiom and lan-
guage."

He returned to Scotland during the minority of
James V., and became attached to the establishment
of that monarch as "clerk of his comptis."

The biographer of Ballentyne, above quoted, sup-
poses tliat he must have been the "Maister Johnne
Ballentyne" who, in 1528, was "secretar and servi-
tour" to .Vrchiljald, Earl of Angus, and in that capa-
city appeared before parliament to state his master's
reasons for not answering the summons of treason
which had been issued against him. We can scarcely,
however, reconcile the circumstance of his being
then a "Douglas's man," witii the favour he is found
to have enjoyed a few years after with James V.,
whose antipathy to that family was so great as pro-
bably to extend to all its connections. However
this may be, Ballentyne is thus celebrated, in 1 530,
as a court poet, by .Sir David Lyndsay, who had
been in youth his fellow-student at St. Andrews, and
was afterwards his fellow-servant in the household
of the king: —

Rut now of late h.is st.irt up heastily
A cunning clerk that writelh craftily;
.'\ plant of poets, called Ballaiitcii,
Whose ornat writs my wit cannot defync;
('••I he into the court authority.
He will prccel Quintin and Renedy."

I:i 1530 and 1 53 1 Ballentyne was cni]iloycd, by
command nf the king, in translating Boece's History,
which had been published at Paris in 1526. The
object of this translation was to introduce the king
and others w!i') had "missed their Latin" to a
knowledge of the history of their country. In the
epistle to the king at the conclusion of this work,
Ballentyne passes a deserved compliment upon his
majesty, for having "dantit this region and brocht
the same to sicken rest, gud peace and trancitiillity ;
howhcit tile same could iioclit be done be your gret
baronis during your tender age;" and also savs. with-
out much tlatten.-, "Your nobill and worthy deidis
proceeils mair be natiirall inclinatii)n and active
enrage, than ony gudly ]ior>uasioun of assisteris."
He also attests his own sincerity by a lecture to tl-.e
king on the difference between tyrannical and just
government; wliich, as a curious s'lecimtn of tl;e

prose composition of that time, and also a testimony
to the enlightened and upright character of Ballen-
tyne, we shall extract into these pages: —

"As Seneca says, in his tragedeis, all ar nocht
kingis that bene clothit with purpure and dredoure,
but only they that sekis na singulare proffet, in dam-
mage of the commonweill; and sa vigikant that the
life of their subdetis is mair deir and jirecious to
them than thair awin life. Ane tyrane sekis rithe.s;
ane king sekis honour, conquest be virtew. .Ane
tyrane governis his realmis be slauchter, dredoure,
and falset; ane king gidis his realme be prudence,
integrite, and favour. Ane tyrane suspeckis all them
that hes riches, gret dominioun, auctorite, or gret
rentis; ane king haldis sic men for his maist helply
friendis. Ane tyrane luftis nane bot vane fleschouris,
vicious and wicket lynimaris, be quliais counsall he
rages in slauchter and tyranny; ane king luftis men
of wisdom, gravite, and science; knawing weill that
his gret materis maybe weill dressit be thair jinidence.
Treuth is that kingis and tyrannis hes mony handis,
mony ene, ancl mony mo memberis. Ane tyrane
sets him to be dred; ane king to be luffet. .-Vne
tyrane rejoises to mak his pepill pure; ane king to
mak thame riche. Ane tyrane draws his pepill to
sindry factiones, discord, and hatrent; ane king maks
peace, tranquillite, and concord; knawing nothing .-a
dammagious as division amang his subdittis. Ane
tyrane confounds all divine and hummane lawis; ane
king observis thaime, and rejoises in equite and
justice. All thir jiroperteis sal be patent, in reding
the livis of gud and evil kingis, in the historj- pre-
cedent."

To have spoken in this way to an absolute jirince
shows Ballentyne to have been not altogether a
courtier.

Heaftenvardsadds, in a finely impassioned strain:
— ■" Quhat thing maybe mair i>Ie>and than to se in
this present volume, as in ane cicir mirroure, all the
variance of tyme bygane; the sindr\- chancis of
fourtoun; the bludy fechting and terrible berganis sa
mony years continuit, in the defence of your realm
and liberte; quhilk is fallen to your hieness with gret
felicite, howbeit the saniin has aftinies been ransomit
with maist nobill blude of your antecessoris. Quhat
is he that wil nocht rejoise to heir the knychtly
afarii of thay forcy campions. King Robert Bruce
and William Wallace? The fir.-~t, Ije iiir.ative
desyre to recover his realme, wes brocht to sic
calamite, that mony dayis he durst nocht appeir in
sicht of pepill; but amang desertis, levand on rutes
and hcrbis, in es]ierance of better fortoun; bot at
Ia>t, be his singulare manheid, he come to sic pre-
eminent glore, that now he is reput the maist vrd-
yeant prince that was eftir or before his empire.
This other, of small beginning, be feris curagc ar.d
corporall strength, not only jiut Knglishmen out ot
Scotland, but als, be feir of his awful vi>age. ] i:l
Kdward king of England to tlicht; and held all the
borders fornence .Scotland waist."

Ballentyne delivered a manuscript copy ot ir.s
work to the king, in the summer of 1533, and al-'Ut
the snme time he appears to lia\e i)een eiigai;ed ;r. n
tran>lation of Livy. The following entrie- \:\ ti'.o
treasurer's book ''ive a curious view ot the 1 rcL-

the

irl of

of literar\' labour
(lavs: —

"To Ma!>ter Jolm Ballertyii- i<c
ccpt, fir hi- translating of the ('l^ron\

•■1531, Oct. 4lh. To Master J-!
he the kingi- i-recejl. for il:- tiui.
(.■hro.ve!;--. '/30.

"Item. Thnirefier to the ^.^:d
the k:;; -i- C'j'niman :. ''•■

kin.

M

ROBERT BALMER.

"'533' J^'y 26. To Maister John Ballentyne,
for ane new Chronikle gevin to the kingis grace, ;^I2.

"Item, To him in part payment of the translation
of Titus Livius, ;^8.

" Aug. 24. To Maister John Ballentyne,

in part payment of the second buke of Titus Livius,

" Nov. 30. To Maister John Ballentyne, be

the kingis precept, for his laboris dune in translat-
ing of Livie, ;^20."

The literary labours of Ballentyne were still fur-
ther rewarded by his royal master, with an aj^point-
ment to the archdeanery of Moray, and the escheated
property and rents of two individuals, who became
subject to the pains of treason for having used in-
fluence with the pope to obtain the same benefice,
against the king's privilege. He subsequently got
a vacant prebendaryship in the cathedral of Ross.
His translation of Boece was printed in 1536, by
Thomas Davidson, and had become in later times
almost unique, till a new edition was published in a
remarkably elegant style, in 182 1, by Messrs. Tail,
Edinburgh. At the same time appeared the trans-
lation of the first two books of Livy, whicli had
never before been printed. Tiie latter work seems
to have been carried no further by the translator.

Ballentyne seems to have lived happily in the sun-
shine of court favour during the remainder of the
reign of James W The opposition which he after-
wards presented to the Reformation brought him
into such odium, that he retired from his country in
disgust, and died at Rome, about the year 1550.

The translations of Ballentynj are characterized by
a striking felicity of language, and also by a freedom
tliat shows his profound acquaintance with the learned
language upon which he wrought. His Chronicle,
which closes with tlie reign of James I., is rather
a paraphrase than a literal translation of ]5oece, and
jjossesses in several respects the character of an
original work. Many of the historical errors of the
latter are corrected — not a k\v of his redundancies
retrenched — and his more glaring omissions supplied.
.Several passages in tlie work are highly elegant, and
some descriptions of particular incidents reacli to
something nearly akin to the sublime. Many of tlie
works of Ballentyne are lost — among others a tract
on the Pythagoric letter, and a discourse upon virtue
and pleasure. He also wrote many political pieces,
the most of which are lost. Those which have
reached us are princijially jiroems j)refi.\ed to his
pru:ie works — a species of composition not apt to
bring out the better qualities of a poet; yet they ex-
hildi the workings of a rich and luxuriant fancy, and
abound in lively sallies of the imagination. They
are generally allegorical, and distinguished rather by
incidental Ijeauties than by the skilful structure of
the fable. The story, indeed, is often dull, the allu-
sions obscure, ami the general scoijc of the piece un-
intelligil)le. Tliese faults, however, are pretty general
characteristics of allegorical poets, and they are
atoned for, in him, by the striking thoughts and the
charming (lescri])tions in wliich he abounds, and
which, "like threds of gold, tlie rich anas, beautify
his works (juile thorow.''

BALMER, Rkv. Rf)[iERT, D.D.— This profound
theologian and valued ornament of the Secession
Church, was born at (Jrmiston Mains, in the ])arish
of Kckford, Koxl)urgh--hire, on the 22d of Xovcmber,
1787. His father, who was a land-steward, was a
man in comfortaljle though not aflluent circum>taiic(.'s,
and Robert's earliest education — besides tlie ordi-
nary advantages which the ])easantry of .Scotland
possessed — enjoyed the inestimable benefit of a care-

ful religious superintendence, both of his parents
being distinguished for piety and intelligence. The
result of such training was quickly conspiaious in the
boy, who, as soon as he could read, was an earnest
and constant reader of the Bible, while his questions
and remarks showed that he studied its meaning
beyond most persons of his age. His thirst for
general knowledge was also evinced by a practice
sometimes manifested by promising intellectual boy-
hood— this was the arresting of every stray leaf that
fell in his way, and making himself master of its
contents, instead of throwing it carelessly to the
winds. On the death of his father, Robert, who,
although only ten years old, was the eldest of the
family, on the evening of the day of the funeral,
quietly placed the books for family worship before
his widowed mother, as he had wont to do before
his departed parent when he was alive. She burst
into tears at this touching remembrance of her be-
reavement, but was comforted by the considerate
boy, who reminded her that God, who had taken
away his father, would still be a Father to them, and
would hear them — "and, mother," he added, "we
must not go to bed to-night without worshipping
him." Consolation so administered could not be
otherwise than effectual: the psalm was sung, the
chapter read, and the prayer offered up by the
sorrowing widow in the midst of her orphans; and
the practice was continued daily for years, until
Robert was old enough to assume his proper place
as his father's representative.

The studious temperament of Robert Balmer,
which was manifested at an early period, appears to
have been not a little influenced by his delicate
health, that not only prevented him from joining in
the more active sports of his young coin])eers,
but promoted that thoughtfulness and sensibility
by which sickly boyhood is frequently characterized.
The same circumstance also pointed out to him his
proper vocation; and he said, on discovering his
inability even for the light work of the garden,
"Mother, if I do not gain my bread by my head, I'll
never do it with my hands." As to which of the
learned professions he should select, the choice may
be said to have been already made in consetjuence
of his domestic training: he would lie a minister of
the gospel, and that too in the .Secession Church to
which his parents belonged. He proceeded to the
study of Latin, first at the parish school of More-
battle, and afterwards that of Kelso, at the latter of
which seminaries he formed a close acquaintanceship
with his schoolfellow, Thomas I'ringle, afterwards
known as the author of African Sketches, which was
continued till death. In 1802 Mr. Balmer entered the
university of Edinburgh, and, after passing through the
usual course of classical, ethical, and scientific study,
was enrolled as a student in theology in connection
with the Associate .Synod. Even already he had
established for himself such a resjjcctable intellectual
reputation, that his young brethren in prcjiaration
for the ministry received him with more than or-
dinary welcome. As iJr. l.awson, the theological
l^rofessor of the Associate Synod, lectured only for
two months of each year, at the end of summer and
commencement of autumn, Mr. I'almer, in common
with several of his fellow-students, attended the
regular course of theology during the winters at the
university of Edinburgh. They thus availed them-
selves of the twofold means of imi)rovcinent which
they possessed, without any compromise of their
jirinciples being exacted in return; and the fruits of
this were manifest in after-life, not only by the highly
superior attainments of many of the Secessidn ministry,
but the liberal spirit and kindly feeling which they

ROBERT BALMER.

77

learned to cherish toward their brethren of the
Established Church, and the affectionate intercourse
that often continued lietween them to the end. This,
however, alarmed some of the elder and more rigid
brethren of the Synod: they thought that this lil)er-
ality savoured of lukewarmness, and would in time
prove a grievous snare; and, under the imjiression,
an overture was introduced into the Synod, for the
prevention of all such erratic courses in future. The
students of Selkirk who studied under Dr. Lawson
took the alarm at this threatened restriction, and the
petition and remonstrance presented by them in vin-
dication was drawn up by Mr. Balmer. Although
some indignation was expressed at the students for
the liberty they had thus taken in addressing the
supreme court of their church, the petition was re-
ceived by the Synod, and the obnoxious overture dis-
missed. One of the senior and leading members
observed on this occasion that he would be sorry to
see any measure adopted which would tend to drive
from their body the man who could write such
a paper.

After having finished the four years' course of
divinity prescribed by the Presbyterian churches of
Scotland, it was expected that ^Ir. Balmer should
apply for license as a preacher. This was the more
necessary in the communion to which he belonged, as
the number of its licentiates scarcely equalled that of
the vacant congregations. But, to the surprise of his
friends, he held back for two years, and his delay was
attributed to unworthy motives. Already one of the
most promising students of the connection, it was
thought that he demurred from mere pride of intellect,
and was unwilling to identify himself with a cause
which as yet had produced so few men of high mark:
others, who were aware that he had already been ad-
vised to pass over to the Established Churcii, and
share in its honours and emoluments, imagined that
he had taken the advice to heart, and only waited the
fit season for such a step. But these surmises were
as unkind as they were untrue. His ambition went
no higher than to be the humble useful minister of
some countiy Burgher congregation, while his hu-
mility confirmed him in the belief that he would
have for his brethren men of still higher attainments
than his own. His delay entirely originated in
scniples of conscience. He had thouglit anxiously
and profoundly upon tlie subject, and could not wholly
admit the formula which he would be required to
subscribe as a licentiate. "On the ([uestion," he after-
wards said, "demanding an assent to the Confession
and Catechisms, I stated, that to me these documents
appeared so extensive and multifarious as to be dis-
proportioned to the narrow limits of the human mind;
that I at least had not studied ever)- expression in
them so carefully as to be prepared to assent to it
with the solemnity of an oath; that I approved of
them, however, in so tar as I had studied them; and
that tlie Tresbytery might ascertain, by strict examina-
tion, the amount of my attainments, and treat me ac-
cordingly—wliich of course they did." His scruples
were res|)ected, his explanations in assenting to the
formula atlinilled; and on the 4th of August, 1S12,
he was licen-ed as a preacher of the gospel by the
Associate l'rcsl)ytery of Ediiil>urgh.

On commencing the great work to wliich all his
studies had l)een directed, .Mr. Balmer began under
rather inauspicious circumstances. All are aw.ire
how essential certain external advantages are in the
formation of an accejitable and po]">uiar preacher, and
how completely a dissenting preacher deiiends upon
this p<}pularity for his call ti> the ministn,-, and the
successful discharge of his duties. But in the graces
of person and manner Mr. Balmer was decidedly

wanting. His eyes, from their weakness, had an un-
pleasant cast, and his figure was ungainly; his voice
was monotonous; and his gestures were, to say the
least, inelegant. For a person in his pl)^ition to sur-
mount such olKtacles argued a mind of no ordinary
power. And he did surmount them. Such was the
depth and originality of thought, the power of lan-
guage, and heart-moving unction which his sermons
possessed, that his growing acceptability bade fair in
a short time to convert these defects into positive ex-
cellencies in the eyes of his captivated auditories.
In a few months he received calls from not less than
four congregations, so that he would have l>een in a
strait to choose, had not the laws of his church jjro-
vided for such doubtful emergencies. Amid such
competition, the choice devolved upon the Synod,
modified, however, by the personal wishes of the
preacher thus called; and on Balmer expressing a
preference for the congregation at Berwick, he was
ordained its minister on the 23d of March, 1814.

The life of a Secession minister in a third-rate
town affords few points for a limited memoir. They
are also of such, a regular monotonous character,
that the history of a single month is a sufficient
specimen of whole years so occupied. And yet,
while thus employed, Mr. Balmer was neither a dull
nor inefficient workman. He threw the whole of his
large intellect and warm heart into his sacred duties;
and while he secured the love of his congregation,
his reputation was silently growing and going on-
ward, until, without seeking it, he found himself a
man of high mark and influence in that important
segment of the church universal to which he belonged.
And all the while he was continuing to improve his
faculties, and extend his intellectual resources, for
his was not a mind to rest satisfied with past acquire-
ments, however sufficient they might be for the
present demand. Events also occurred, or were
searched out and found sufficient to keep up that
wholesome stir of mind without which the best of
duties are apt to become a monotonous task. Among
these was the exercise of his pen in a review of the
work of Hall of Leicester on Terms of Commitnioii,
which was inserted in two numbers of the Christian
Repository of 1 81 7. He was also on several occa-
sions a visitor to London, whither he was called on
clerical duty; and in these southward journeys he
enjoyed much "colloquy sublime" with Robert Hall,
of whom his reminiscences are among the most in-
teresting that have appeared of that great puljiit
orator and theological metaphysician. He also touk
a keen interest in the union of the two parties of the
Secession Church, known by the name of Burghers
and Anti-burghers, which took place in 1S20. This
was an event that was dear to his heart, fiir not only
was he a lover of Christian concord, and the eneiriy
(;f all infinitesimal distinctions that keep brethren
asunder, hut he had been bom in that union; li_r
although his fatlier and mother had belonged to
the diflercnt parties, they had always lived nii'i
acted as thiise who are completely at one. In iS;o
he married Miss Jane .'^eott, daughter ut Mr.
Alexander Scott of .\l)erdeen. an<i si-ter of J.'l;:i
Scott, the well-known author uf I'.nts :<' /',!r;s. In
the year following he was involvel — a> v. li.it ir.ur.--
ter in .Scotland was not more or Ie>.> in\""lveci .' -;;i
what is still vividly remembered uivkr tlie name ■ t
tlie " .\]xxTypha controver-y." .Mr. r.ainK-r eii-
deav<niivd on this oecasiiin to rec'iiieile '.lie center.. 1-^
ing parties, and was requited by tlie ^u-i ;e."i.^ "t
the one, and tlie active !i--tili!y ..'f tiie ctlier, t".T hi,-
jiains. Sucli was the fate i>f not a tVw at :l'.;s time
whoendeaviuired to ]ieri'i'nn the ]\art "t ] eaeen\Tker-.
Thev are "blessed' indeed— but nut uf men, and

78

ROBERT BALMER HENRY BALXAVES.

must look elsewhere than to the earth for their
reward. After the Apocryphical, the Voluntary
controversy predominated, in which the Seces-
sion, utterly renouncing the Establishment principle,
which it had hitherto recognized in theory, became
thoroughly and completely a dissent, by proclaiming
the inexpediency and unlawfulness of civil establish-
ments of religion, and contending for a separation
between church and state. On this occasion, Mr.
Balnier took the part that might have been exjiected
from his character and situation. He was allied in
friendship with many ministers of the Established
Church; and, in common with many of his brethren,
he was conscious of the fickleness of popular rule.
All this was well so long as the question was left to
every man's conscience. But when it swelled into
a public controversy, and when every person, was
obliged to take a side, and be either the friend or
the enemy of voluntaryism, Mr. Balmer acted as
every Secession minister did, who still meant to
abide at his post. He thought that the voluntary
system, although an evil, was the least evil of the two,
and therefore he became its apologist and advocate.
On the death of Ur. Dick of Glasgow, who for
thirteen years had been professor of theology in the
Associate, and afterwards in tlie United Associate
Synod, it was resolved to establish three divinity
professorships, instead of one. On this occasion
Mr. Balmer's high talents were recognized, by his
appointment, in 1S34, first to the chair of pastoral
theology, and afterwards to that of systematic theo-
logy. Although Glasgow was the sphere of his
professorship, his duties called him away from
Berwick only two months in the year. The duties
of such a brief session, however, were scarcely less
tiian those of a six months' course in our well-en-
dowed universities. Tiie following is an account of
them given by one of his pupils: — "It is not, I pre-
sume, necessary to say more of the nature of his
course than that it consisted of five parts — one pre-
liminary, on the Christian evidences; one supple-
mentary, on Christian morals; the other three con-
sisting respectively of — topics in revelation prepara-
tory to the scheme of redemption; of the work of the
Redeemer; and of the blessings of redemption.
Those subjects were gone over in a series of lectures,
extending over the last three years of the students'
course. Each session occupied eight weeks, and the
number of weekly lectures, each of an hour's length,
was five, so that the total number delivered in a full
course was, after every abatement for interruption
and irregularity, somewliere l)e]ow 120. Another
hour daily was somewhat irregularly divided between
examinations, or ratlier oral lectures, and hearing of
the discourses of between fjrty and fifty students, in
the third and fiftli years of tlieir progress, to which
was sometimes added an occasional voluntary essay."
Of the manner in wliich these duties were discharged,
the same pu])il affectionately adds: — "Who can ever
forget the hours spent in hearing these ])rclections,
or the singularly impressive manner of him liy wliom
they were delivered? The simplicity of the recluse
student, exalted into the heavenliness of mature
saintship — the dignified composure, mixed with
kindly interest — the look of unworldly jnirity and
abstract intelligence, that more tlian redeemed tlie
peculiar and unpromising features — the venerable
hoary head, that no one could refuse to rise up and
honour — all strongly fixed the eye; and tlien came
the full stream of a never-to-be-forgotten ^oice,
monotonous only in simple and unimportant sen-
tences, but varied in striking cadence through all the
memliers of an exquisitely balanced period, and now
kindling into animation and emjihasis in t!yj glow of

argument, now sinking into thrilling solemnity and
tenderness with the falls of devout emotion; while
all the while no play of look, or fervour of tone, or
strange sympathetic gesture, could disturb your idea
of the reigning self-possession and lofty moral dignity
of the speaker. Never had lecturer a more attentive
audience. The eagerness of note-taking alone broke
the general silence."

When these important labours were finished, Mr.
Balmer returned at the end of each session to Berwick,
not for the purpose of rest, however, but to resume
his clerical duties with double vigour. In this way
his life went on from year to year — silent indeed,
and overlooked by the world in general; but who
can trace or fully estimate the effects of such a life
upon the generations to come? He who in such
fashion rears up teachers of religion may live and die
unnoticed, but never unfelt : his deeds will travel
onward from generation to generation, even when
his name has utterly passed away; he will still live
and instruct, in his pupils, and the disciples of his
pupils, though his dust may long ago have mouldered
in the winds. In 1S40 Mr. Balmer received from
the university of St. Andrews the degree of Doctor
in Divinity, which was conferred upon him by the
senatus without influence or solicitation. During
the latter years of his life, a controversy was
agitated in the United Secession upon the extent of
the atonement, which threatened at one time to rend
that church asunder. In such a case, it could not
be otherwise than that Dr. Balmer, however un-
willingly, should express his sentiments upon the
question at issue. This he did, but with such
gentleness and moderation, as to soften the keenness
of debate, and increase the general esteem in which
he was held by all parties. After this his season
arrived in which every theological doubt and diffi-
culty ends in unswerving and eternal certainty. A
short but severe illness, the result of mental anxiety
acting upon a feeble frame — the first and last attack
of serious pain and sickness he had ever felt — ended
his life on the 1st of July, 1844. This event, how-
ever anticipated t"rom his years and gi'owing infirmi-
ties, not only threw his whole congregation into the
deepest sorrow, each individual feeling himself 1)e-
reaved of an honoured and affectionate father, but
struck with a sudden thrill the extensive Associate
Secession church through its whole range in Scot-
land and England. Even the funeral of Dr. Balmer
was significant of his catholic liberality and high
talents — of one who had lived in Christian peace and
love with all, and won the admiration and esteem
of all; for in the town business was sus])ended, the
inhabitants assembleil as if some prince of the land
was to be honoured and bewailed in his death, and
the coffin was followed to the grave by the ministers of
every denomination, both of the English and Scottish
Establishment and dissent, who dwelt in the town
and countr)'. A monumental obelisk was soon after
erected over the grave by his affectionate congrega-
tion. Two volumes of his writings have also been
pul)lished since his death, the one consisting of
pulpit discourses, and the other of academical
lectures, in which the high estimate taken of his
talents by the church to which he belonged is fully
justified.

BALNAVES, Henry, of ITalhill, an eminent lay
reformer, and also a theological writer of some emi-
nence, was born of ])oor parents in the town of
Kirkcaldy. After an academical course at St. An-
drews, he travelled to the Continent, and, hearing of
a free school in Cologne, jirocured admission to it,
and received a liberal education, together Avith in-

HENRY BALNAVES

struction in Protestant principles. Returning to his
native countn-, he applied himself to the study of
law, and acted for some time as a procurator at St.
Andrews. In the year 1538 he was appointed by
James V. a senator of the College of Justice, a court
only instituted five years before. Notwithstanding
the jealousy of the clergy, who hated him on account
of his religious sentiments, he was employed on im-
portant embassies by James V., and subsequently by
the governor Arran, (hiring the first part of whose
regency he acted as secretary of state. Having
at length made an open profession of the Pro-
testant religion, he was, at the instigation of Arran's
brother, the Abbot of Paisley, dismissed from tliat
situation. He now appears to have entered into
the interests of the English party against the gover-
nor, and accordingly, with the Earl of Rothes and
Lord Gray, was thrown into Hlackness Castle (No-
vember, 1543), where he probably remained till re-
lieved next year on the appearance of the Englisli
fleet in the Firth of Forth. There is much reason to
believe that this sincere and pious man was privy to
the conspiracy formed against the life of Cardinal
Beaton; an action certainly not the brightest in the
page of Scottish history, bat of wliich it is not too
much to say, that it miglit have been less defensible
if its motive had not been an irregular kind of
{patriotism. Balnaves, though he did not appear
among the actual perpetrattjrs of the assassination,
soon after joined them in tlie castle of .St. Andrews,
which they held out against the governor. He was
consequently declared a traitor, antl excommunicated.
His principal employment in tlie service of the con-
spirators seems to have been that of an ambassador
to the English court. In February, 1 546-7, he ob-
tained from Henry VIII. a subsidy of ;i^i 180, besides
a quantity of provisions for his compatriots, and
a pension n( jTii^ to himself, whicii was to run from
the 25th of M.arch. On the 15th of this latter month
he had become bound, along with his friends, to de-
liver up Queen Mary, and also the castle of .St. An-
drews, into the hands of the English; and in May he
obtained a further sum of ^300. While residing in
the castle, he was instrumental, along with Mr. Jolin
Rough and Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, in \ne-
vailing upon John Knox to preach publicly in .St.
Andrews — the first regidar ministration in tlie re-
formed religion in .Scotland.

When the defenders of the castle surrendered in
.\ugust, Balnaves shared in their fate, along with
Knox and many other eminent persons. He was
conveyed to the castle of Rouen, in France, and
there committed to close confinement. Vet he still
found occasional opportunities to communicate with
his friend Knox. Having employed himself during
his solitary hours in composing a treatise on Justifica-
tion, he conveyed it to the refonner, who was so
much pleased with it. that he divided it into chapters,
added some marginal notes and a cf)ncise epitome of
its contents and prefixed a commendatory dedication,
inten<iing that it should be pul)iislied in' Scotland as
soon .as opportunity ofiTered. This work fell aside
for some years, but, after Knox's death, w.as dis-
covered in the liouse of ( )rmi>ton In- Richard Banna-
tyne, and was init)lished .at Edinlnirgh, in 15S4, under
the title of 7Vi,' Coiijl-isioit of Fait It, containiir^, luric
the- Trouhh-d Man s/ioidd s,rk Rrfii^^e at Iiis God,
thereto led by Faith, err.: Compiled by M. Jleinie
Balnaves of Halhill, one of the J^^rds of Session and
Counsell of Scotland, bem^' a Prisoner xoiihin the Old
Pallaiec of Roane, in the )iV7r of our I^ord 154S.
Direct to his faithful Brethren bein.; in like Trouble or
more, and to all True Proressors and Fazourers of the
Syncere H'erde :f Cod. L'r. M'Cnelias given ionu

GEORGE BANN.\TVNE.

79

extracts from this work in his life of John Knox.
After his return from banishment, Balnaves took
a bold and conspicuous part in the contest carrietl on
by the lords of the congregation against the regent
Mary. He wxs one of the commissioners who, in
February, 1559 60, settled the treaty at Berwick
between the former insurgent body and the (^ueen
of England, in consequence of which the Scottish
reformation was finally established through ai<l from
a country always heretofore tlie bitterest enemy of
Scotland. In 1563 he was rea])poiiUed to the bench,
and also nominated as one of the commissioners for
revising the Book of Discipline. He acted some
years later, along with Buchanan and others, as
counsellors to tlie Earl of Murray, in the celebrated
inquiry V^y English and Scottish c-mmissioners into
the alleged guilt of Queen Mar\-. He died, according
to Mackenzie, in 1579.

"In liis 'Treatise upon yustification,"' says the latter
authority, "he affirms that the justification spoken
of by .St. James is different from that spoken of by
.St. Paul; for the justification by good works, which
.St. James speaks of, only justifies us before man; but
the justification by faith, which St. Paul speaks of,
justifies us before God: and that all, yea, even the
best of our good works, are but sins before (Jod."

"And," adds Mackenzie, with true Jacoljite sar-
casm, "whatever may be in this doctrine of our
author's, I think we may grant to him that the most
of all his actions which he valued himself upon, and
reckoned good works, were really :e;reat and heinous
sins before Cod, for no good man will justify reljellion
and murder."

Without entering into the controversies involved
by this proposition, either as to tlie death of Cartiinal
Beaton or the accusations against Queen Mary, wc
may content ourselves with quoting the opinion en-
tertained of ISalnaves by the good and moderate
Melville: he was, according to this writer, "a godly,
learned, wise, and long experimented counsellor. "
"A poem" by Balnaves, entitled .-/// Advice to Head-
strong Youth, is selected from Bannatyne's manuscrij't
into The Evergreen.

BA^TSTATYXE, George, t.ikes his title to .1
place in this work from a source of fatne partici-
pated by no other individual within the range <.f
.Scottish bic)grai)hy: it is to this person that we aic
indelHed for the preservation of nearly all the pro-
ductions of the Scottish poets of the fifteentli and
sixteenth centuries. Though the services he has
thus rendered to his countrv' were in some measure
the result of accident; yet it is also evident that, if
lie had not Iieeii a person of eminent literary taste,
and also partly a ])oet iiimself, we shc)uld never li.T.e
had to celebrate him as a collector of ]')oetry. Tl.e
com])ound claim which he has thus established to
our notice, and tlie curious antique ])icture which !-
presented to our eye liy even the little that is kiiow:;
regarding his cliaracter and inirsuits, will, it ;-
hoped, amply justify his aihnission into this g.i:le:y
of eminent Scotsmen.

George Baniiatyne was b(>rn in an elewiled r.-;,k
of society. His father, James Bannr.t y;i.e. "I liic
Kirktown of Newtyle, in the county of I'orfar. m.'.-
a writer in lulinburgli, at a time \\ hen t!:at ]'r(ile--ii :;
must have been one of some distinction and r.int;. :
and lie was jiroba!)!)- the ]-.crsoii aliu'Ie'! '." \<\ R'.hi.;;
Semple in The dljens ,f Cr^^eell S,:::d\ i. :::.:- :^

It al-o apjienrs tiiat Janxs 1 ^^:l:.^.;^■:".e h-:'A the
■-•f 'I'ali. i.AK ic i:.^ Lur i; vf ^c^s.u:). ::; ^^i..c!l

Co

GEORGE BAXNATYNE.

his eldest son (afterwards a Lord of Council and
Session) was conjoined with him as successor, by
royal precept, dated May 2, 1583. James Bannatyne
is further ascertained to have been connected with
the very ancient and respectable flimily of Bannach-
tyne, or Bannatyne, of Camys (now Karnes), in the
island of Bute. He was the father, by his wife
Katharine Tailliefer, of twenty-three children, nine
of whom, who survived at the time of his death, in
15S3, were "weill and sufficiently provydit be him,
under God."

George Bannatyne, the seventh child of his parents,
was born on the 22d day of February, 1545, and
was bred up to trade.' It is, however, quite uncer-
tain at what time he began to be engaged in business
on his own account, or whether he sjjcnt his youth in
business or not. Judging, however, as the world is
apt to judge, we should suppose, from his taste for
poetry, and his having been a writer of verses him-
self, that he was at least no zealous applicant to any
commercial pursuit. Two poems of his, written
before the age of twenty-three, are full of ardent
though conceited affection towards some fair mistress,
whom he describes in the most extravagantly compli-
mentary terms. It is also to be supposed that, at
this age, even though obliged to seek some amusement
during a time of necessary seclusion, he could not have
found the means to collect, or the taste to execute,
r,uch a mass of poetry as that which bears his name, if
he had not previously been almost entirely abandoned
to this particular pursuit. At the same time there is
some reason to suppose that he was not altogether an
idle young man. given up to vain fancies, from the
two fii-st lines of his valedictory address at the end
of liis collection:

"Heir enclls this biiik writtin in tyine of pest,
Quhen wc/m labor vrm compel'd to rest."

Of tlie transaction on which the whole fame of
George Bannatyne rests we give the following inter-
esting account from the memoir just quoted: —

"It is seldom that the toils of the amanuensis are
in themselves interesting, or that, even while enjoying
the advantages of the poor scribe's labour, we are dis-
posed to allow him the merit of more than mere
mechanical drudgery. But in the compilation of
George Bannatyne's manuscript there are particulars
which rivet our attention on the writer, and raise him
from a humble copyist into a national Ijenefactor.

"Bannatyne's manuscript is in a folio form,
containing upwards of Soo pages, very neatly and
closely written, and designed, as has been sup-
posed, to lie sent to the press. The lal^our of com-
piling so rich a collection was undertaken by the
author during the time of pestilence, in the year
1568, when the dread of infecti(jn compelled men to
fursake their usual cm])loyments, whicli could not be
conducted without admitting tlie ordinary promis-
cuous intercour>c between man and his kindred men.

"In this dreadful ])eriod, when hundreds, finding
themselves surrounded by flanger and death, re-
nounced all care save that of selfi.-,h precaution for
their own safety, and all thoughts save ai)]irehensions

1 In a Afemair n/ (irnrt^f Jianiut/yiie, by Sir Walter Srntt
prefixed to a collectian of vtcmnral-ilia reganlinj; hini, whicli
fi.-is been printefl fir the liann.ityne Chib, it is supposed that
he w.is not early en^.-iged in bnsiness. l!ut tliis supposition
seems only to rest on an uncertain inference from a passage
in George Hannatyne's .l/cwrtr/r;// />«//<•, where it i~ mentioned
that Katharine Tailliefer. at her death in 1570, left behind
her eleven children, of whom ci};lit were as yet " unnut to
proffeit." On a careful inspection of the family notii:es in this
Mi-mnrinll liuik, it appears as likely that George himself was
one r-^i those already "put to proffeit" as otherwise, more
especially considering that he was tlien twenty-five years of

of infection, George Bannatyne had the courageous
energy to form and execute the plan of saving the
literature of a whole nation; and, undisturbed by the
universal mourning for the dead, and general fears
of the living, to devote himself to the task of collect-
ing and recording the trium]5hs of human genius;^
thus, amid the wreck of all that was mortal, employ-
ing himself in preserving the lays by which immor-
tality is at once given to others, and obtained for the
writer himself His task, he informs us, had its
difficulties; for he complains that he had, even in his
time, to contend with the disadvantage of copies old,
maimed, and mutilated, and which long before our
day must, but for this faithful transcriber, have
perished entirely. The very labour of jirocuring
the originals of the works which he transcribed must
have been attended' with much trouble and some
risk, at a time when all the usual intercourse of life
was suspended; and when we can conceive that even
so simple a circumstance as the borrowing and lend-
ing a book of ballads was accompanied with some
doubt and apprehension, and that probably the sus-
pected volume was subjected to fumigation and the

precautions used in quarantine.^

* * * « «

" In the reign of James IV. and V. the fine arts,
as they awakened in other countries, made some
progress in Scotland also. Architecture and music
were encouraged by both of those accomplished
sovereigns; and poetry, above all, seems to have been
highly valued at the Scottish court. The King of
Scotland, who, in point of power, seems to have been
little more than the first baron of his kingdom, held
a free and merry court, in which poetry and satire
seem to have had unlimited range, even where their
shafts glanced on royalty itself. The consequence
of this general encouragement was the production of
much poetry of various kinds, and concerning various
persons, which the narrow exertions of the vScottish
press could not convey to the j^ublic, or which, if
printed at all, existed only in limited editions, which
soon sunk to the rarity of manuscripts. There was
therefore an ample mine out of which Bannatyne
made his compilation, with the intention, doubtless,
of putting the lays of the ' makers' out of the reach of
oblivion by subjecting the collection to the press.
But the bloody wars of Queen Mary's time^ made
that no period for literary adventure; and the ten-
dency of the subsequent age to ]iolemical discussion
discouraged lighter and gayer studies. There is,
therefore, little doubt, that had Bannatyne lived
later than he did, or had he been a man of less taste
in selecting his materials, a great ])io]"iort:on of the
poeti-y contained in his volume must have been lost
to jiostcrity; and, if the stock of iKn-thern literature
had been diminished only by the loss of such of 1 )un-
bar's pieces as Bannatyne's manuscript contains, the
damage to posterity woukl have been infinite."

The pestilence which caused Bannatyne to go into
retirement commenced at Ivlinburgh upon the 8th
of September, 1568, being introduced by a merchant

2 Witli deference to .Sir Walter, we would suj;,i;est that th.o
suspicion inider which books are always lield at a time of jics-
tilence as .a me.ans of conveying the infection, gives great
reason to suppose that George Bannatyne had jireviously col-
lected his original manuscripts, and only took this opportunity
of transcribing them. 'J'he writing of 800 folio pages in the
careful and iruricate style of caligraphy then practised, apjiears
a sufficient t;isk in itself fir three months, without supposing
that any part of the time was spent in collecling mamiscripls.
And hence we see the greater reason for supposing that a large
part of the attention of (Jeorge Bannatyne before his twenty-
third year w.-w devoted to .Scottish poetry.

■' The accomplished writer should rather h.ive said, the
minority of James VI., whose reign had commenced before the
manuscrijit vva.-> written.

GEORGE BANNATYNE JOHN BARBOUR.

8i

of the name of Dalgleish. We have, however, no
evidence to prove that Bannatyne resideci at this
time in the capital. We know, from his own informa-
tion, that lie wrote his manuscript during the sui>se-
qucnt months of October, November, and December;
which mij^ht ahnost seem to imply that he had lived
in some other town, to which the pestilence only ex-
tended at the end of the month in which it appeared
in Edinburgh. Leaving this in uncertainty, it is not
perhaps too much to suppose that he might have
adopted this means of spending his time of seclu-
sion from the fictitious example held out by Boccacio,
who represents the tales of his Decameron as having
been told for mutual amusement by a company of
persons who had retired to the country to escai)e the
plague. A person so eminently acquainted with the
poetry of his own country might well be familiar
with the kindred work of that illustrious Italian.

The few remaining facts of George Bannatyne's
life, which have been gathered up by the industry of
Sir Walter .Scott, may be briefly related. \\\ 1572
he was provided with a tenement in the town of
Leith, by a gift from his father. This would seem
to imply that he was henceforward, at least, engaged
in business, and resided either in Edinburgh or at its
neighbouring port. It was not, however, till the
27th of October, 1587, that, being then in his forty-
third year, he was ailmitted in due and competent
form to the privileges of a merchant and guild-brother
of the city of Edinburgh. "We have no means of
knowing what branch of traffic George Bannatyne
chiefly exercised; it is probable that, as usual in
a Scottish burgh, his commerce was general and
miscellaneous. We have reason to know that it was
successful, as we find him in a 'it^vt years possessed
of a consideratjle capital, the time being considered,
which he employed to advantage in various money-
lending transactions. It must not be forgot that the
penal laws of the Catholic period pronounced all
direct taking of interest upon money to be usurious
and illegal. These denunciations did not decrease
the desire of the wealthy to derive some profit from
their capital, or diminish the necessity of the embar-
rassed land-holder who wished to borrow money.
The mutual interest of the parties suggested various
evasions of the law, of which the most common was,
that the capitalist advanced to his debtor the sum
wanted, as the price of a corresponding annuity,
payable out of the lands and tenements of the
debtor, which annuity was rendered redeemaV)le upon
the said debtor repaying the sum advanced. Tlie
moneyed man of those days, therefore, imitated the
conduct imputed to the Jewish patriarch by Shylock.
They did not take

— ^interest — not as you would say
Directly interest,

Irat tlicy retained payment of an annuity as long as
the debtor retained the use of their ca'pit.il, which
came to much the same thing. A species of trans-
action wa> contrived, as affording a convenient mode
of securing the lender's money. Our researches have
discovered that tieorge Bannatyne had sufficient fund.-,
to enter into various transactions of this kind in the
capacity of lender; and. as we have no reason to
suppose that he profited unfairly by the necc-sities
of the other party, he cannot be' blamed for having
recour-.e to the onlinary exjiedients to avoid tlie
penalty of an al)surd law, an<i accomplish a fair trans-
action, ilictated by nnitual ex;iediencv."

Bannatyne, about the same time that he became
a burgess ot Edinburgh, appears to have married his
spouse, Isobel Mawclian [njiparently identical witli
the modern name Maii^haii\, who was the relict of

VOL. I.

Bailie William Nisbctt, and must have been about
forty years of age at the time of her second nuptials,
supposing 1586 to be the date of that event, which
is only probable from the succeeding year having
produced her first child by I5annatyne. ' This child
was a daughter, by name Janet or Jonet; she was
born on the 3d of May, 1587. A son, James, bom
on the 6th of September, 15S9, and who died young,
completes the sum of Bannatyne's family. The father
of liannatyne died in the year 1 583, and was suc-
ceeded in his estate of Xewtyle by his eldest living
son, Thomas, who became one of the Lords of Ses-
sion by that designation— an appointment which
forms an additional voucher for the general respecta-
bility of the family. George Bannatyne was, on the
27th of August, 1603, dei)rived of his affectionate
helpmate, Isobel Mawchan, at the age of fifty-seven.
She had lived, according to her husband's Manoriall,
"a godly, honourable, and virtuous life; was a wise,
honest, and true matron, and departed in the Lord
in a peaceful and godly manner."

George Bannatyne himself deceased previous to
the year 1608, leaving only one child, Janet, who
had, in 1603, been married to George Eoulis of
Woodhall and Ravelstone, second S(jn of James
Eoulis of Colingtoun. His valuable collection of
Scottish poetry was preserved in his daughter's
family till 1712, when his great-grandson, William
Eoulis of Woodhall, bestowed it upon the Hon<jur-
able William Carmichael of Skirling, advocate,
brother to the Earl of Ilyndford, a gentleman who
appears to have had an eminent taste for such monu-
ments of antiquity. While in the possession of Mr.
Carmichael it was borrowed by Allan Ramsay, who
selected from its pages the materials of his jiopular
collection styled The Evergreen. Lord Hailes, in
1 77°) published a second and more correct selection
from the Bannatyne manuscript; and the venerable
tome was, in 1772, by the liberality of John, third Earl
of Hyndford, deposited in the Advocates' Library at
Edinburgh, where it still remains.

We have already alluded to George Bannatyne as
a poet: but, to tell the truth, his verses display little,
in thought or imagery, that could be expected to
interest the present generation; neither was he per-
haps a versifier of great repute, even in his own time.

It only remains to be mentioned that the name of
George Bannatyne has been approjiriately adojited
by a company of .Scottish literary antiquaries, inter-
ested, like him, in the j^reservation of such curious
memorials of the taste of past ages, as well as -uch
monuments of history as might otherwise run the
hazard of total perdition.

BARBOUR, John, a name of which Scotland hr.s
iu>[ occa.-ion to t)e proud, was Archdeacon of Aber-
deen in the later part of the fourteenth century. Th.ere
has been much idle controversy as to the date of his
birth; while all that is known witli historic cerfainiy
may be related in a single sentence. -As he was an
archdeacon in 1357, and as, by the canon law, no
man without a dispensation can attain tl'i.-.t rai.lc
under the age of twenty-five, he was jirobably bn;;i
betore the \ear 1332.

.\s to his jiarentage or birthplace \\e liave ni.'y
similar conjectures. Besides the j.rol lability of li;i
having been a native of the di-trict in w iiieh lie after-
wards obtained high clerical rank, it can lie^l"."-.\n
that there were individuals of his name in aiv: as '•-■.i
the town of Aberdeen, any one of whom nii.;I;t l.ave
Ivjen his father. The name, \\liich rq i'i:i:- :•< h.'.%e
been one of tl;af numerous cLtsS derive-l !r. 'ir. trr.'ie-,
is also f )unil in ]XT-'.'ns of tl.e sariV er.\ \\\.-^ w^re
coimected witii the soiitljcrn 1 arto ol .■ic'./.l.-.r, :.

82

JOHN BARBOUR.

In attempting the biography of an individual who
lived four or five centuries ago, and whose life was
commemorated by no contemporar)', all that can be
expected is a few unconnected, and perhaps not very
interesting, facts. It is already established that Bar-
bour, in 1357, was archdeacon of the cathedral of
Aberdeen, and fulfilled a high trust imposed upon
him by his bishop. It is equally ascertained that, in
the same year, he travelled, with three scholars in his
company, to Oxford, for purposes connected wiih
study. A safe-contluct granted to him by Edward
III., August 23d, at the request of David II., con-
veys this information in the following terms: " l''i'/tt-
endo, cum trihiis scltolarihns in comitiva sua, in iri^-
num nostrum Angliir, causa studcndi in universita/e
OxoniiC et ibidem actus sclwlasticos cxcrccndo, morando,
exindc in Scoliam ad propria rcdcundo.'" It might
have been supposed that Barliour only officiated in
this expedition as tutor to the three scholars; but that
he was himself bent on study at tlic university is
proved by a second safe-conduct, granted l:iy tlie same
monarch, November 6th, 1364, in tlie following
terms: "To Master John Barbour, Archdeacon of
Aberdeen, with four knights [ccjuitcs], coming from
Scotland, by land or sea, into England, to study at
Oxford, or elsewhere, as /le may think proper." As
also from a tliird, bearing date N'ovember 30th, 1368:
"To Master John Barbour, with two valets and two
horses, to come into England and travel through the
same, to the other dominions of the king, versus
Franciam, causa studiendi, and of returning again."
It would thus appear that Barbour, even after that
he had attained a high ecclesiastical dignity, found it
agreeal)!e or necessary to spend several winters at
Oxford in study. When we recollect that at this
time there was no university in Scotland, and that
a man of such literary habits as Barljour could not
fail to find himself at a loss even for the use of
a library in his native country, we are not to wonder
at his occasional pilgrimages to tlie illustrious shrine
of learning on the banks of the Isis. On the i6th
of October, 1635, he received another safe-conduct
from Edward III., permitting him "to come into
England and travel tin-oughout tliat kingdom, cum
sex sociis suis equitihus, usque Sanctum DionisiTim;"
i.e. witli six knights in company, to St. Dennis in
France. Such slight notices suggest curious and
interesting views of the manners of that early time.
We are to understand from them that Barbour always
travelled in a very dignified manner, being sometimes
attended by four knights and sometimes by no fewer
than six, or at least by two mounted servants. A
man accustomed to such state might be the better
able to compose a chivalrous epic like The Bruce.

There is no other authentic document regarding
Barbour till the year 1373, when his name appears
in the list of auditors of cxchefjuer for that year,
being then descriljcd as '^clcricus probalionis domus
domini nostri reikis" i.e. apparently — auditor of the
comptroller's accounts for the royal household.
This, however, is loo obscure and solitary an au-
thority to enable us to conclude that he bore an office
under the king. Hume of (jodscroft, s]jeaking of
"the Bruce's book," says: ".-Xs I am informed, the
book was penned by a man of good knowledge and
learning, named Master John Barbour, Arcluleacon
of Aberdeene, for which work he had a yearly pen-
sion out of tlic exchequer during his life, which he
gave to the hospitall of that towne, and to which it
is allowed and j)aid still in our daycs."' This fact,
that a pension was given him for writing his book,
is authenticated Ijy an unquestionable document. In

1 History r/t/u: D^:/i,!as:cs.

the Rotuli Ballivcrum Burgi de Aherdonia for 1471,
the entry of the discharge for this royal donation
bears that it was expressly given "for the compila-
tion of the Book of the Deeds of King Robert the
First,'''' referring to a prior statement of this circum-
stance in the more ancient rolls: — "Et decano et
cajiitulo Abirdonensi percipienti annuatim viginti
solidos pro anniversario quondam Magistri Johannis
Barberi, pro compilatione libri gestorum Regis
Roberti primi, ut patet in antiquis Rotulis de anno
Compoti, XX. s." The first notice we have of
Barbour receiving a pension is dated February i8th,
139O; and although this period was only al)out two
months before the death of Robert the Second, it
appears from the rolls that to that monarch the poet
was indebted for the favour. In the roll for April
26th, 1398, this language occurs:— "Quam recolendie
memorie quondam dominus Robertus secundus, rex
Scottonim, dedit, concessit, et carta sua confirmavit
quondam Johanni Barbere archediacono Aber-
donensi," &c. In the roll dated June 2d, 1424, the
words are these: — "Decano et capitulo ecclesia'
cathedralis Aberdonensis percipientibus annuatim
viginti solidos de firmis dicti burgi pro anniversario
quondam Magistri Johannis Barbar pro compilacione
libri de gestis Regis Roberti Brwise, ex concessione
Regis Roberti Secundi, in plenam solucionem dicte
pensionis," &c. Barbour's pension consisted of ;^lo
Scots from the customs of Aberdeen, and of 20 shil-
lings from the rents or burrow-mails of the same
city. The first sum was limited to "the life of
Barbour;" the other to "his assignees whomsoever,
although he should have assigned it in the way of
mortification." Hume of Godscroft and others are
in a mistake in supposing that he appropriated this
sum to an hospital, for it appears from the accounts
of the great chamberlain that he left it to the chapter
of the cathedral church of Aberdeen, for the express
purpose of having mass said for his soul annually
after his decease. Barbour's anniversary, it is sup-
posed, continued till the Reformation; and then the
sum allowed for it reverted to the crown.

All that is further known of Barbour is, that he
died towards the close of 1395. This appears from
the chartulary of Aljerdeen, and it is the last year
in which the payment of his pension of ;i^lo stands
on the record.

The Brtice, which Barbour himself informs us
he wrote in the year 1375, is a metrical history of
Robert I. — his exertions and achievements for
the recovery of the indejiendence of .Scotland, and
the principal transactions of his reign. As Barbour-
flourished in the age immediately following that of
his hero, he must have enjoyed the advantage of
hearing from eye-witnesses narratives of the war of
liberty. Asa history, his work is of good authority;
he himself boasts of its soothfast ness ; and the simj)le
and straightforward way in which the story is told
goes to indicate its general veracity. Although,
however, the object of the author was mainly to give
a soothfast history of the life and transactions of
Robert the Bruce, the work is far from being desti-
tute of poetical feeling or rliythmical sweetness and
harmony. The lofty sentiments and vivid descri]>-
tions with which it alwunds, prove the author to
have been fitted by feeling and by princi])Ie, as well
as by situation, forthc t.askwhichhe undertook. 1 lis
genius has lent truth all the cliarms that are usually
supposed to belong to fiction. The horrors of war
are softened by strokes of tenderness that make us
equally in love with the hero and the poet. In
battle-])ainting Barbour is eminent: the battle ',r
Bannockburn is described with a minuteness, spini,
and fervency, worthy of the day.

JOHN BARBOUR ALEXANDER BARCLAY.

S5

The apostrophe to freedom, after the painful de-
scription of the slavery to which Scotland was re-
<luccd by Edward, is in a style of poetical feeling
very uncommon in that and many subsequent ages,
and has been quoted with high praise by the most
distinguished Scottish historians and critics: —

"A! fredome is a nobill thing!
Kredomc mayse man to haiff liking !
Kredome all solace to man giffis:
He levys at ese that frely levys !
A noble hart mav haiff nane esc,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking
Is yearnyt our all othir thing
Na he, that ay base levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte.
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foiilc thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it.
Than all pcrqucr he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to pr>'se
Than all the gold in warld that is."' — (Book i. 1. 223,'

"Barbour," says an eminent critic in Scottish
poetical literature, "was evidently skilled in sucli
branches of knowledge as were then cultivated, and
liis learning was so well regulated as to conduce to
the real improvement of his mind; the liberality of
his views and the humanity of his sentiments appear
occasionally to have been unconfined by the narrow
boundaries of his own age. He has drawn various
illustrations from ancient history, and from the
stories of romance, but has rarely displayed his erudi-
tion by decking his verses with the names of ancient
authors: the distichs of Cato,- and the spurious pro-
ductions of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis,
are the only profane books to which he formally re-
fers. He has borrowed more than one illustration
from Statius, who was the favourite classic of those
times, and who likewise appears to have been tlie
favourite of Barbour: the more chaste and elegant
style of Virgil and Horace were not so well adapted
to the prevalent taste as the strained thoughts and
gorgeous diction of Statins and Claudian. Tiie
manner in which he has incidentally discussed tlie
subject of astrolog)' and necromancy may be speci-
fied as not a little creditable to his good sense. It
is well known that tliese branches of divination were
assiduously cultivated during the ages of intellectual
darkness. The absurdity of astrology and necro-
mancy he has not openly attempted to expose; for as
the opinions of the many, however unfounded in
reason, must not be too rashly stigmatized, this might
have been too bold and decided a step. Of tlie
possil)ility of predicting events he speaks with the
caution of a philosopher; but the following passage

1 Some readers may perhaps arrive at the sense of this fine
pT^sigo m.>re readily through the medium of the following
P-irapiir.Lse:—

".•\h, Freedom is a noble thing,
And can to life a relish bring.
Freedom all solace to man gives;
He lives at case that freely lives.
A noble he.irt may h.ave no ease.
Nor aught lw;ide that may it please,
If frec'l'im fiil — Tt 'tis the choice,
More than the chosen, man enjoys.
Ah, he that ne'er yet lived in thrall.
Knows not the we.iry pains which gall
The limb-;, the soul, of him who 'pl.iius
In slavery's r>ul and f^-^tering chains;
If these he knew, I ween richt soon
He woulil seek Inck the precious boon
(^f freedom, which he then would pri7C
More than all wealth beneath the skies."

may be considered as a sufficient indication of his
deliberate sentiments: —

'And sen thai ar in sic wenyng,
For owtyne certante off witting,
Me think quha sayis he knawi>, thingis
To cum, he makys great gabiiigis."

To form such an estimate required a mind capable
of resisting a strong torrent of prejudice; nor is it
superfluous to remark, that in an age of much higher
refinement, Dryden suffered himself to be deluded
by the jirognostications of judicial astrology. It was
not, however, to be expected that Barbour should on
every occasion evince a decided superiority to the
general spirit of the age to which he belonged. His
terrible imprecation on the person who betrayed Sir
Christopher Seton, 'In hell condamjmyt mot he
be!' ought not to have been uttered by a Christian
priest. His detestation of the treacherous and cruel
King Edward induced him to lend a credulous ear
to the report of his consulting an infernal spirit. The
misfortunes which attended Bruce at almost ever)- step
of his early progress he attributes to his sacrilegious
act of slaying Comyn at the high altar. He sup-
])oses that the women and children who assisted in
supplying the brave defenders of Berwick with arrows
and stones were protected from injury by a miracu-
lous interposition. Such instances of superstition
or uncharitable zeal are not to be viewed as marking
the individual: gross superstition, with its usual
concomitants, was the general spirit of the time: and
the deviations from the ordinary track are to be
traced in examples of liberal feeling or enlightened
judgment."''

One further quotation from the Scottish contem-
porary and rival of Chaucer may perhaps be admitted
by the reader: it gives one of the slight and minute
stories with which the poet fills up his narrative: —

" The king has hard a woman crj-;
He askyt quhat that wes in hy.
'It is the lavndar, .Schyr,' said ane,
'That her ciiild-ill rycht now has tane,
'And mon leve now behind ws her;
'Tharfor scho makys yone iwill cher.'
The king said, ' Certis it w.ar pite
'That scho in that poynt left suld be;
'For certis I trow th.ar is na man
'That be ne will rew a woman than,'
Hiss ost all th.ar arestyt he.
And gert a tent sone stentit be.
And gert hyr gang in hastily.
And othyr wenieu to be hyr Iiy,
Quhill scho wes dclier, he bad.
And syne furth on his wayis raid:
And hou' scho furth sidd cary it 1 e,
Or euir he furth fur, ordanyt lie.
'this wes a full grct curt.asy,
'J'hat swilk a king, and sa mighty.
Cert his men duell on this maner
Hot for a pouir lauender."

No one can fail to remark that, while the incident is
in the highest degree honourable to r)ruce, ^howing
that the gentle heart may still be known by gentle
deed, so also is Barbour entitled to the crei-Ht C't
humane feelings, from the way in whicli he had de-
tailed and commentetl ujion the transaction.

Barbour was the author of another considerabA'
work, which has unfortunately pcri-hed. Thi> w.-.-
a chronicle of Scottish history, jirubably in tl-.e ni.ir.-
! ner of that by Andrew Winton.

BARCLAY. Ai.r.XANnr.K. a cli:-ting'.;i>hed writer
of the Kngli>h tongue at tlic beginning nf •I;e -;\tee;'.'.'i
century, is known to have Ix-cn a ii:itive ol Sc<'lLir.(l_
only bv verv obsciire evi^Icnce. He sj e;;; Mine ot

And Catone siyi^ us in '.
I'o fenyhe foly quhile is

■/•'•<• Brurr.

Ar

.■!■• ••!;. r'

Ir

84

JOHN BARCLAY.

his earliest years at Croydon, in Surrey, and it is
conjectured that he received his education at one of
the English universities. In the year 1508 lie was
a prebendary of the collegiate church of St. Mary at
Ottery, in Devonshire. He was afterwards a monk,
first of the order of St. Benedict at Ely, and latterly
of the order of St. Francis at Canterbury. While in
this situation, and having the degree of Doctor of
Divinity, he published an English translation of the
Mirroar of Good Manners (a treatise compiled in
Latin by Dominyke Mancyn), for the use of the " juvent
of England." After the Reformation Barclay ac-
cepted a ministerial charge in the Protestant church,
as vicar of Much-Badew in Essex. In 1546 lie was
vacar of Wokey in Somersetshire, and in 1552 he
was presented by the dean and chapter of London
to the rectory of Allhallows in I-ombard Street.
Having reached an advanced age, he died in June
this year, at Croydon in Surrey, where he was buried.
Barclay published a great number of books,
original and translated, and is allowed by the most
intelligent inquirers into early English literature to
have done more for the improvement of the language
than any of his contemporaries. Ills chief poetical
work is The Ship of Fooles, which was written in
imitation of a German work entitled. Das Narren
Schiff, published in 1494. The Ship of Fooles,
which was first printed in I509> describes a vessel
laden with all sorts of absurd persons, though there
seems to have been no end in view but to bring
them into one place, so that they might be described,
as the beasts were brought before Adam in order to
be named. We shall transcribe one passage from
this work, as a specimen of the English style of
Barclay: it is a curious contemporary character of
King James IV. of Scotland.

"And, ye Christen princes, whosoever ye be,
If ye be destitute of a noble captayne,

Take James of Scotland for his audacitie
And proved manhode, if ye will laude attaine :
Let him have the forwarde : have ye no disdayne

Nor indignation ; for never king was borne

That of ought of waure can shaw the uncorne.

For if that once he take the speare in hand
Agaynst these Turkes strongly with it to ride,

None shall Vje able his stroke for to withstande
Nor before his face so hardy to abide.
Vet this his manhode increaseth not his pride ;

But ever sheweth meeknes and humilitie,

In worde or dede to hye and lowe degree."

Barclay also made a translation of Sallust's History
of the yn^urthine War, which was puljlishedin 1557,
five years after his death, and is one of the earliest
specimens of English translation from the classics.

BARCLAY, John, A.M., was the founder of a
religi<jus sect in Scotland, generally named Bercans,
but sometimes called, from the name of tliis in-
dividual, Barclayans. The former title derived its
origin from the habit of Mr. Barclay, in always
making an appeal to the Scriptures, in vindication
of any doctrine he advanced from the jnilpit or
which was contained in his writings. Tlie jierfec-
tion of the .Scriptures, or of the Book of divine
;evelation, was the fundamental article of his system;
at least this was what he liimself publicly declared
upon all occasions, and tlie same sentiments are still
entertained by liis followers. In \z. xvii. 10 the
Bereans are thus mentioned, "These were more
noble than those in Thessalonica, in that they
received the word with all readiness of mind, and
searched the Scriptures daily, whether those things
were so." These words were fref|uently quoted by
Mr. Barclay. It ought to be observed, however,
that originally it was not a name of reproach in-

vented by the malevolent part of the public, with
the design of holding up Mr. Barclay and his
associates to contempt, but was voluntarily assumed
by them, to distinguish them from other sects of
professed Christians.

Mr. Barclay was born in 1734. His father, Mr.
Ludovic Barclay, was a farmer in the parish of
Muthill, in the county of Perth. Being at an early
age designed by his parents for the church, he was
sent to school, and received the best education
which that part of the country could afford. He
was afterwards sent by his father to St. Andrews,
where he regularly attended the literary and philo-
sophical classes, and took the degree of A.M. At
the commencement of the subsequent session, he
entered the New Divinity or St. Mary's College,
a seminary in which theology alone is taught.
Nothing very particular occurred during his attend-
ance at the hall, as it is generally called. He was
uniformly regular in his private conduct, and though
constitutionally of very impetuous passions and a
fervid imagination, at no time of his life was he ever
seduced into the practice of what was immoral or
vicious. While he attended the lectures on divinity,
the university of St. Andrews, and indeed the Church
of Scotland in general, were placed in a very un-
pleasant situation, by the agitation of a question
which originated with Dr. Archil:)ald Campbell,
professor of church history in St Mary's College.
He maintained "that the knowledge of the exist-
ence of God was derived from revelation, not from
nature." This was long reckoned one of the errors
of Socinus, and no one in Scotland, before Dr.
Campbell's time, had ever disputed the opinion that
was generally current, and consequently esteemed
orthodox. He published his sentiments without the
least reserve, and was equally ready to enter upon
a vindication of them. He considered his view of
the subject as a foundation necessary to be laid in
order to demonstrate the necessity of revelation.
A whole host of opponents volunteered against
such dangerous sentiments; innumerable pamphlets
rapidly made their appearance, and tlie hue and cry
was so loud, that the ecclesiastical courts thought
that they could no longer remain silent. Dr.
Campbell was publicly ])rosecuted on account of his
heretical opinions, but after long litigation the matter
was compromised, and the only effect it produced
was, that the students at St. Andrews in general
became more zealous defenders of the doctor's
system, though they durst not avow it so openly.
Among others, Mr. Barclay had warmly espoused
Dr. Campbell's system, and long before he left
college he was noted as one of his most open and
avowed partizans. These principles he never de-
serted, and in his view of Christianity it formed an
important part of the system of revealed truth. It
must not be imagined, however, that Mr. Barclay
slavishly followed or adojited all Dr. Campbell's
sentiments. Thougli tliey were both agreed that
a knowledge of the true God \\as derived from
revelation and not from nature, yet they differed
ujion ahnost every other point of systematic divinity.
^Ir. Barclay was early, and continued through lile
to be a liigh predcstinarian, or what is technically
denominated a supralapsarian, while Dr. Campbell,
if one may draw an inference from some of his illus-
trations, leaned to Arminianism, and doubtless was
not a decided Calvinist.

Mr. Barclay, having delivered the jirescribed dis-
courses, now directed his views to obtain license as
a ]ireacher in the Establishment, and having delivered
the usual series of exercises witli the entire a])proba-
tion of his judges, he was, on the 27th September,

JOHN BARCLAY.

Sk

1759, licensed by the presbytery of Auchterarder.
lie was not long without employment. Mr. Jobson,
then minister of Errol, near Perth, required an assis-
tant, and Mr. Barclay from his popularity as a
preacher easily obtained this situation. Here he
remained for three or four years, until a rupture with
his principal obliged him to leave it. ^Ir. Jobson
was what may be called of the old school. He
warmly espoused (as a great many clergymen of the
Church of Scotland in those days did) the system
of the Marrrw of Modern Divinity, a book written
by Edward Fisher, an English dissenter, about the
middle of the seventeenth century, and republished
in Scotland with notes by the celebrated Mr. Thomas
Boston of Ettrick. For many years this book occa-
sioned a most serious commotion in the Church of
Scotland, which is generally called "the Afarr(nu
controversy." It was, indeed, the remote cause of
that great division, which has since been styled the
Secession. But there was another cause for the
widening of this unfortunate breach. The well-
known Mr. John Glass, minister of Tealing, near
Dundee, had published, in 1727, a work entitled
The Testimony of the King of Martyrs. With the
exception of the Cameronians, this gentleman was
the first dissenter from the Church of Scotland since
the Revolution, and it is worthy of remark that the
founders of the principal sects were all originally
cast out of the church. Mr. Glass was an admirer
of the writings of the most celebrated English In-
dependents (of Dr. John Owen in particular), and of
their form of church-government. Mr. Barclay,
who was no Independent, heartily approved of many
of his sentiments respecting the doctrines of the
gospel, and as decidedly disapproved of others. He
had a system of his own, and agreed with none of
the parties; but this, if possible, rendered him more
obnoxious to Mr. Jobson. Mucli altercation took
place between them in private. Mr. Barclay publicly
declared his sentiments from the pulpit, Mr. Jobson
did the same in defence of himself, so that a rupture
became unavoidable.

About the time of Mr. Barclay's leaving Errol,
Mr. Anthony Dow, minister of Fettercairn, in the
presbytery of Fordoun, found himself unfit for the
full discharge of his duties. He desired his son, the
Rev. David Dow, then minister of the parish of
Dron, in the presbytery of Perth, to use his endeavour
to procure him an assistant. Mr. Dow, who, we
believe, was a fellow-student of Mr. Barclay at St.
Andrews, and perfectly well acquainted with his
talents and character, and the cause of his leaving
Errol, immediately made offer to him of being
assistant to his fither. This he accepted, and he
commenced his labours in the beginning of June,
1763. What were Mr. Anthony Dow's peculiar
theological sentiments we do not know, but those of
Mr. David Dow were not very different from Mr.
Barclay's. Here he remained for nine years, which
he often declared to have been the most happy, and
considered to have been the most useful, period' of his
life.

Mr. Barclay was of a fair, and in his youth of
a very florid, complexion. He then looked' younger
tlian he really was. The people of Fettercairn were
at first greatly prejudiced against him on account of
his youthful appearance. But this was soon forgotten.
His fervid manner, in prayer especially, and at
dilTerent parts of almost every sermon, rivetted the
atteition and impressed the minds of his audience
to such a degree, that it was almost impossible to
lose the memory of it. His jiopuiarity as a preacher
became so great at Fettercairn, that anything of the
like kind is seldom to be met with in tlie historj- of

the Church of Scotland. The parish church, being
an old-fashioned building, had rafters across; these
were crowded with hearers; — the sashes of the
windowswere taken out toaccommodate thcmultitude
who could not gain admittance. During the whole
period of his settlement at Fettercairn, he had
regidar hearers who flocked to him from ten or
twelve of the neighbouring parishes. If an opinion
could be formed of what his manner had been in his
youth, and at his prime, from what it was a year or
two before he died, it must have l>een vehement,
passionate, and impetuous to an uncommon degree.
During his residence at Fettercairn he did not
confine his labours to his public ministrations in
the pulpit, but visited from house to house, was the
friend and adviser of all who were at the head of a
family, and entered warmly into whatever regarded
their interests. He showed the most marked atten-
tion to children and to the young; and when any of
the household were seized with sickness or disease, he
spared no pains in giving tokens of his sympathy,
and administered consolation to the afflicted. He
was very assiduous in discharging those necessary
and important duties which he thought were pecu-
liarly incumbent upon a country clerg)man. Such
long-continued and uninterrupted exertions were
accompanied with the most happy effects. A taste
for religious knowledge, or what is the same, the
reading and study of the Bible, began to prevail to
a great extent; the morals of the people were im-
proved, and temperance, sobriety, and regularity of
behaviour sensibly discovered themselves through-
out all ranks.

Mr. Barclay had a most luxuriant fancy, a great
liking for poetr\-, and possessed consideral:ile facility
of versification. His taste, however, was far from
being correct or chaste, and his imagination was
little under the management of a sound judgment.
Besides his works in prose, he published a great
many thousand verses on religious subjects. He
had composed a paraphrase of the whole book
of Psalms, part of which was published in 1766.
To this was prefixed, A Dissertation on the best
Means of Interpreting that Portion of the Canon of
Scripture. His views upon this subject were pecu-
liar. He was of opinion that, in all the psalms
which are in the first person, the speaker is Christ,
and not David nor any other mere man, and that
the other psalms describe the situation of the church
of God, sometimes in prosperity, sometimes in ad-
versity, and finally triumphing over all its enemies.
This essay is characterized by uncommon vigour of
expression, yet in some places with considerable
acrimony. The presbyter)^ of Fordoun took great
offence at this publication, and summoned Mr.
Barclay to appear at their bar. He did so, nnd
defended himself with spirit and intrepidity. His
opinions were not contrary to any doctrine contained
in the Confession of Faith, so that he could not even
be censured by them. Mr. Barclay, who being
naturally of a frank, open, and ingenuous disposition,
had no idea of concealing his opinions, not only
continued to preach the same doctrines whicli w ere
esteemed heretical by the presbyten.-, but published
them in a small work, entitled Kcjoiee r; errueie. . r
Christ AH in Ail. This obstinacy, as they con-
sidered it, irritated them to a very high (ie;^iee.
They drew up a warning against tlie danj^erin;- •\--<c-
trines that he prcachetl, ami ordered it to lie re.id
publicly in the church of Fettercairn after -einvn.
and before pronouncing the blessing, by ^ne oi ilie-r
own members, expressly apjxiinted lor tb.at jnirjiosc,
on a specified day, which was accordin-i^'ly done.
Mr. Barclav viewed their conduct with intiitTerence

86

JOHN BARCLAY.

mingled with contempt, and no effect of any kind
resulted from the warning to the people of Fetter-
cairn, who were unanimous in their approbation of
Mr. Barclay's doctrine. He continued during Mr.
Dow's lifetime to instruct the people of his parish,
and conducted his weekly examinations to the great
profit of those who gave attendance.

In 1769 he published one of the largest of his
treatises, entitletl IVitlunit Faith 'untltoiit God, or an
Appeal to God concerning his o^vn Existence. This
was a defence of similar sentiments respecting the
evidence in favour of the existence of God, whicli
were entertained by Dr. Campbell already mentioned.
The illustrations are entirely Calvinistical. This essay
is not very methodical. It contains, however, a great
many acute observations, and sarcastic remarks
upon the systems of those who have adopted the
generally current notions respecting natural religion.
In the course of the same year, 1769, he addressed
a letter on the Eternal Generation of the Son 0/ God,
to Messrs. Smith and Ferrier. These two gentle-
men had been clergymen in the Church of Scotland.
They published their reasons of separation from the
Established church. They had adopted all the
sentiments of Mr. Glass, who was a most strict In-
dependent, and both of them died in the Glassite
communion. Dr. Dalgliesh of Peebles had, about
the time of their leaving the church, published a
new theory respecting the sonship of Christ, and,
what is not a little singiilar, it had the merit of
originality, and had never before occurred to any
theologian. He held the tri-personality of Deity,
but denied the eternal Sonship of the second person
of the Godhead, antl was of opinion that this Jiliation
only took place when the divine nature was united
to the human, in the person of Christ, Immanuel,
God with us. Novel as this doctrine was, all the
Scottish Independents, with a very few exce])tions,
embraced it. The difference between Dalgliesh and
the Arians consists in this, that the second person
of the Trinity, according to him, is God, equal witli
the Father; whilst the latter maintain, in a certain
sense, his supreme exaltation, yet they consider him
as subordinate to the Father. Mr. Barclay's letter
states very clearly tlie scriptural arguments usually
adduced in favour of the eternal generation of the
Son of God. It is written with great moderation
and in an excellent spirit.

In 1 77 1 he published a letter, On the Assurance
0/ Faith, addressed to a gentleman who was a mem-
ber of Mr. Cudworth's congregation in London.
Cudworth was the person who made a distinguished
figure in defending the celebrated Mr. Hervey
against the acrimonious attack of Mr. Robert
Sandeman, who was a Glassite. Excepting in some
peculiar fonns of expression, Cudworth's views of
the assurance of faith did not materially differ from
Mr. Barclay's. There ajipeared also in the same
year A Letter on /'rarer, addressed to an Indepen-
dent congregation in Scotland.

The Rev. .Vnthony Dow, minister of Fettercaim,
died in 1772. The presbytery of Fordoun seized
this o|)portunity of gratifying their s])leen; they pro-
hibited Mr. Barclay from preaching in the kirk of
Fettercaim, and used all their influence to prevent
him from being employed, not only within their
bounds, which lie in what is called the Mearns, but
they studied to defame him in all quarters. The
clergy of the neighlxjuring district, that is, in Angus,
were much more friendly. They were ready to ad-
mit him into their pulpits, and he generally preached
every Lord's-day, during the subsequent autumn,
winter, and spring. Multitudes from all parts of
the country crowded to hear him. The patronage

of Fettercaim is in the gift of the crown. The
parish almost unanimously favoured Mr. Barclay.
They were not, however, permitted to have any
choice, and the Rev. Robert Foote, then minister
of Eskdale Muir, was presented. At the modera-
tion of the call, only three signed in favour of Mr.
Foote. The parishioners appealed to the synod,
and from the synod to the General Assembly, who
ordered Mr. Foote to be inducted. The presbytery
carried their hostility against Mr. Barclay so far, as
to refuse him a certificate of character, which is
alw.ays done, as a matter of course, when a preacher
leaves their bounds. He appealed to the synod,
and afterwards to the Assembly, who found (though
he was in no instance accused of any immorality)
that the presbyteiy were justified in withholding the
certificate. He had no alternative, and therefore
left the communion of the Church of Scotland. A
great many friends in Edinburgh, who had adopted
his peculiar sentiments, formed themselves into a
church, and urged him to become their pastor. The
people of Fettercaim also solicited him to labour in
the ministry amongst them; but for the present he
declined both invitations. Having hitherto held
only the status of a probationer or licentiate, he
visited Newcastle, and was ordained there, October
I2th, 1773. The certificate of ordination is signed
by the celebrated James Murray of Newcastle, the
author of the well-known Sermons to Asses, which
contain a rich vein of poignant satire, not unworthy
of Swift. It was also signed by Robert Somerville
of Weardale, and James Somerville of Swallwell,
and Robert Green, clerk. His friends at Fettercaim
meanwhile erected a place of worship at Sauchyburn,
in the immediate neighbourhood, and renewed their
application to have him settled amongst them. But
Mr. Barclay, conceiving that his sphere of usefulness
would be more extended were he to reside in Edin-
burgh, gave the preference to the latter. Mr. James
M'Rae, having joined Mr. Barclay, was ordained
minister at Sauchyburn in spring, 1774. The con-
gregation there, at this time, consisted of from 1000
to 1200 members.

Mr. Barclay remained in Edinburgh about three
years; and was attended by a numerous congregation,
who had adopted his views of religious truth. But
having a strong desire to disseminate his opinions,
he left the church at Edinburgh under the care of
his elders and deacons, and repaired to London.
For nearly two years he preached there, as well as
at Bristol, and other places in England. A church
was formed in the capital. He also established
there a debating society, which met weekly in the
evening, for the purpose of dis])uting with any who
might be disposed to call his doctrines in question.
One of those who went with the design of impugning
Mr. Barclay's ojiinions was Mr. William Nelson,
who eventually became a convert. This gentleman
had been educated in the Church of I'higland, but,
when Mr. liarclay came first to London, had joined
the Whitefieldian or Calvinistic Methodists. He
afterwards came to Sc(jtland, was connected with
Mr. Barclay, practised as a surgeon in Edinburgh,
and delivered lectures on chemistry there, for about
ten years. He was a man of considerable abilities,
amiable in private life, and of the most unblemished
character. He was cut off by apoplexy in 1800.

At Edinburgh Mr. Barclay published an edition
of his works in three volumes, including a jjrelty
large treatise on the Sin against the Holy Ghost,
which, accf)rding to him, is merely unbelief or dis-
crediting the Scripture. In 1783 he ])ublished a
small work for the use of the Berean churches, TIic
I-.pistle to the HebrL-ivs Paraphrased, with a collection

JOHN BARCLAY, M.D.

87

of psalms and songs from his other works, accom-
panied with A Close Examination into the Truth of
several recei-'ed Principles.

Mr. Barclay died on the 29th of July, 1798. Being
Sabbath, when on his road to preach, he felt him-
self rather unwell; he took a circuitous route to the
meeting-house, but finding himself no better, he
called at the house of one of the members of his con-
gregation. In a few minutes after he entered the
house, while kneeling in prayer beside a chair, he
expired without a groan, in the sixty-fourth year of
his age, and thirty-ninth of his professional career.
His nephew Dr. John Barclay was immediately
sent for, who declared his death to have been occa-
sioned by apoplexy. He was interred in the Calton
old burying-ground, Edinburgh, where a monu-
ment has been erected to his memory. Mr. Barclay
was a very uncommon character, and made a great
impression upon his contemporaries.

There are Berean churches in Edinburgh, Glasgow,
Crieff, Kirkcaldy, Dundee, Arbroath, Montrose,
Brechin, Fettercairn, and a few other places.

BARCLAY, John, ^LD., an eminent lecturer
on anatomy, was the nephew of John Barclay, the
Berean, after whom he was named. He was born
in 1759, or 1760, at Cairn, near to Drummaquhance,
in Perthshire. His father was a respectable farmer
in that part of the country, and was characterized
by great natural shrewdness and vivacity. His son
John was educated at the parish school of Muthill,
and early distinguished himself by his superior powers
of mind, and by his application. Being destined for
the church, he in 1776 repaired to the university
of St. Andrews, where he became a successful
candidate for a bursary. He made great proficiency
in the Greek language, and also discovered a par-
tiality for the study of mathematics, although he
tloes not appear to have prosecuted this important
branch of science. After having attended the usual
preliminary classes at the united college of .St.
.Salvador and St. Leonard, Barclay studied divinity
in St. Mary's, attaching himself to the moderate
party in the church. He studied divinity at St.
Andrews, under the professor, Dr. .Spence, for two
or three sessions, but having engaged to teach
a school, he found it more convenient to deliver the
prescribed exercises before the professor in Edin-
burgh. On one of these occasions there took place
a very singular occurrence, which the doctor himself
used to relate. Having come to Edinburgh for the
express purpose of delivering a discourse in the hall,
he waited upon his uncle, who was an excellent
scholar. It was what is called "an exercise and
addition," or a discourse, in which the words of the
original are criticised — the doctrines they contain
illustrated — and it is concluded by a brief paraphrase.
He proposed to read it to his uncle before he
delivered it— and when he was in the act of doing
so, his respected relative objected to a criticism
which he had introduced, and endeavoured to show
that it was contrary- to several passages in the
writings of the apostle Paul. The doctor had pre-
pared tlie exercise with great care, and had quoted
the authority of Xenophon in regard to the meaning
of thj word. The old man got into a violent passion
at his ne[>hew's ol^^tinacy, and seizing a huge folio
that lay on tiie table, hurled it at the recusant's head,
which it fortunately mi.-seii. Barclay, who really
had a great esteem for his uncle, related the anecdote
to a clergvman a few days after it happened, and
laughed very heartily at it. liarclay wrote about
this time, A Hislery of all A't-l/'i^'tivts, but of this
no trace was to be found among his manuscripts.

Having delivered with approbation his trial dis-
courses, he obtained license from the presbytery of
Dunkeld. Meanwhile he acted as tutor to the two
sons of Sir James Campbell, of Aberuchill, whose
daughter, Eleonora, in 181 1, became his wife. In
1789 he accompanied his pupils to Edinburgh, where
he preached occasionally for his friends. The
medical school of Edinburgh was then at the height
of its reputation. Cullen's brilliant career was
drawing to a close, and he was succeeded by the
celel)rated Dr. Gregorj'. Dr. Black and the second
Monro still shed lustre on their respective depart-
ments. Barclay was principally attracted to the
anatomical class by the luminous prelections of Dr.
Monro, and appears to have thenceforward devoted
himself to a complete course of medical study. In
1796 he took the degree of M.D., choosing as the
subject of his thesis De An/ma, sac Principio Vitali,
the vital principle having long been with him
a favourite topic of speculation. After graduation.
Dr. Barclay proceeded to London, and attended the
anatomical lectures of Dr. Marshall, of Thavics Inn.
In 1797 he commenced a course of private lectures
on anatomy in a small class-room in the High-School
yards, Edinburgh, but had to contend with for-
midable difficulties; the popularity of the second
Monro and of John Bell being still undiminished
amongst the students. Dr. Barclay, therefore, had
few students at first; but he resolved to persevere.
The introductory lectures (which, after his death,
were published by his friend. Sir George Ballingall,
M.D.) were prepared with scrupulous care. He
studied to express himself in plain and perspicuous
language, which he justly esteemed to be the chief
quality of style in lecturing. His illustrations were
clear and copious, and not unfrequently an apposite
anecdote fixed more strongly in the memories of
his pupils the particular part he was demonstrating;
and, at a time when it was by no means fashionable,
he never omitted to point out the wisdom of God,
as displayed in that most wonderful of all his works,
the formation and support of the human body.

Barclay's first literary performance was the article
' ' Physiolog)^, " in the third edition of the Encyclopudui
Britannica. In 1803 he published a new anatomical
nomenclature. This had been long the sul^ject of
his meditation, and was a great desideratum in
anatomy. The vagueness or indefinite nature of the
terms of anatomy has been perceived and regretted
by all anatomists. They have produced much am-
biguity and confusion in anatomical descriptions,
and their influence has been strongly felt, particularly
by those who have just entered upon the study.
Barclay was the first who, fully aware of the ob-
stacles that were thus thrown in the way of students,
set about inventing a new nomenclature. Tiie
vagueness of the terms principally referred to those
implying position, aspect, and direction. Thus,
what is superior in one position of the body, becon-.es
anterior in another, posterior in a third, and even
inferior in a fourth. \Vhat is external in one jiosi-
tion is internal in another, Ovc. These terms Lecume
much more ambiguous in comparative anatr.niy.
His object was to contrive a nomenclature, in v. IulI-
the same terms should universally ai>]-ily to the >anic
organ, in all positions of tlie bmly, ami in^ a'd
animals. It is the opinion of very caii'ii-l iii^'ges
that he has succeeded in his endeavour. ?.vA t!;at,
were his nomenclature a<iopteil, the gro:.tc~t a-iNan-
tages would accrue to tb.e study of the scciice. 1 he
proposal is delivered with singular i^.iu ;c~:y. ?.'-'A A\^-
covers lioth a most accurate knuwld^c ^l anatoniy
and great ingenuity.

In iSoS appeared his work or. tlie muscular

88

JOHN BARCLAY.

motions of the human body, and in 1812 a descrip-
tion of the arteries of the human body — both of
which contain a most complete account of those
parts of the system. These three wori<s were dedi-
cated to the late Dr. Thomas Thomson, professor
of chemistry in the university of Glasgow. The last
work which Dr. Barclay lived to publish, was an
inquir)' into the opinions, ancient and modern, con-
cerning life and organization. This, as we have
mentioned, formed the subject of his thesis.

He also delivered, during several summers, a
course of lectures on comparative anatomy, a branch
of study for which he had always shown a marked
partiality — not only as an object of scientific research,
but as of great practical utility. At one time he
proposed to the town council, the patrons of the
university of Edinburgh, to be created professor of
that department of the science; how the proposal
was received is not known. The writer of the
memoir of Dr. Barclay, in the iViUiiralist^s Library,
furnishes a characteristic illustration of the lively
interest he felt in the dissections of uncommon
animals which came in his way in the Scottish
metropolis. "At one of these we happened to be
present. It was the dissection of a beluga, or white
whale. Never shall we forget the enthusiasm of the
doctor wading to his knees amongst the viscera of
the great tenant of the deep, alternately cutting
away with his large and dexterous knife, and regaling
his nostrils with copious infusions of snuff, while he
pointed out, in his usual felicitous manner, the
various contrasts or agreements of the forms of the
viscera with those of other animals and of man."
Barclay was the means of establishing, under the
auspices of the Highland Society, a veterinary school
in Edinburgh. He might be called an enthusiast
in his profession: there was no branch of anatomy,
whether practical or theoretical, that he had not
cultivated with the utmost care; he had studied the
works of tlie ancient and modern, foreign and
British, anatomists with astonishing diligence. What-
ever related to natural science was certain of interest-
ing him. The benevolence and generosity of his
temper were also unbounded. No teacher was ever
more generally beloved by his pupils than Dr.
I3arclay, to which his uniform kindness and affability,
and readiness to promote their interest upon every
occasion, greatly contributed. Many young men in
straitened circumstances were permitted to attend
his instructions gratuitously; and he has even been
known to furnish them with the means of feeing
other lecturers.

It is a curious circumstance, that Dr. Barclay
often declared that he had neither the sense of taste
nor of smell.

His lait appearance in the lecture-room was in
1825, when he delivered the introductory lecture.
He died 21st .Vugust, 1826, and was buried at
Restalrig, near Edinburgh, llie family burying-ground
of his father-in-law Sir James Campl)ell. His
funeral was attended by the Royal College of
Surgeons as a body.

A bust of Dr. Barclay, subscribed for by his
pupils, and executed by Joseph, was presented to
the College of Surgeons, to which he bequeathed
his museum — a valuable collection of specimens,
]5articularly in comparative anatomy, and which is
to retain his name. His design in this legacy was
to prevent it fn^m being brol-cen up and scattered
after his death.

BARCLAY, John, son of William Barclay, was
V)orn at I'ontamousson in F" ranee, January 28, 1582,
and was educated under the care of Jesuits. When

only nineteen years old, he published notes on the
Thebais of Statius. He was the innocent cause of
a quarrel between his father and the Jesuits, in con-
sequence of which the family removed to England,
in 1603. At the beginning of the year 1604
young Barclay presented a poetical panegyric to
the king, under the title of Kaleiida; yaniiaria.
To this monarch he soon after dedicated the first
part of his celebrated Latin satire entitled Euphor-
mioii. John Barclay, like many young men of
genius, was anxious for distinction, qiwattujue tnodo,
and, having an abundant conceit of his own abilities,
and looking upon all other men as only fit to furnish
him with matter of ridicule, he launched at the very
first into the dangerous field of general satire. He
confesses in the Apology which he afterwards pub-
lished for his Euphormion, that, "as soon as he left
school, a juvenile desire of fame incited him to attack
tlie "whole world, rather with a view of promoting his
own reputation than of dishonouring individuals."
We must confess that this grievous early fault of
Barclay was only the transgression of a very spirited
character. He says, in his dedication oi Etiphormioi
to King James, written when he was two-and-twenty,
that he was ready, in the service of his majesty, to
convert his pen into a sword, or his sword into a
pen. His prospects at this court were unfortunately
blighted, like those of his father, by the religious
contests of the time; and in 1604 the family returned
to France. John, however, appears to have spent
the next year chiefly in England, probably upon
some renewal of his prospects at the court of King
James. Li 1606, after the death of his father, he
returned to France, and at Paris married Louisa
Debonnaire, with whom he soon after settled at
London. Here he published the second part of his
Etipkor/nio?!, dedicating it to the Earl of Salisbury,
a minister in whom he could find no fault but his
excess of virtue. Lord Hailes remarks, as a sur]:iris-
ing circumstance, that the writer who could discover
no faults in .Salisbury, aimed the shafts of ridicule at
Sully; but nothing can be less surprising in such a
person as Barclay. A man who satirized only for
the sake of personal eclat, would as easily flatter in
gratitude for the least notice. It should also be
recollected, that many minds do not, till the ap-
])roach of niidtlle life, acquire the power of judging
accurately regarding virtue and vice, or merit and
demerit: all principles, in such minds, are jumbled
like the elements of the earth in chaos, and are only
at length reduced to order by the overmastering
influence of the understanding. In the dis]iosition
which seems to have characterized Barclay for
flattering those who patronised him, he endeavoured
to please King James, in the second part of the
Eupliormioii, by satirizing tobacco and the Puritans.
In this year he also jniblished an account of the
Gunpowder Plot, a work remarked to be singularly
impartial, considering the religion of the writer.
I)uring the course of three years' residence in I'^ng-
land, Barclay received no token of the royal liber-
ality. Sunk in intligence, with an increasing family
calling for supjiort, he only wished to be indemnified
for his English journeys, and to have his charges
defrayed into France. At length he was relieved
from his distresses l)y his patron .Salisbury. Of
these circumstances, so familiar and so discouraging
to men of letters, we are informed by some allegorical
and obscure verses written by Barclay at that sad
season. Having removed to France in 1609, he
next year ])ublished \\\s Apology for t/ie Eiip/ior/iiion.
This denotes that he came to see the folly of a
general contempt for mankind at the age of twenty-
eight. How he su]iportcd himself at this time

JOHN BARCLAY. ROBERT BARCLAY.

89

does not appear; hut he is found, in 1614, publishing
liis Icon Animantni, which is declared by a compe-
tent critic to be the best, though not tlie most
celebrated, of his works. It is a delineation of the
genius and manners of the European nations, with
remarks, moral and philosophical, on the various
tempers of men. It is pleasant to observe that in
this work he does justice to the .Scottish people. In
161 5 Hurclay is said to have been invited l)y Pope
I'aul V. to Rome. He had previously lashed the
holy court in no measured terms; but so marked a
Iioniage from this quarter to his distinction in letters,
as usual, softened his feelings, and he now accord-
ingly shifted his family thither, and lived the rest of
his life under the jjrotection of the pontiff. In 1617
lie published at Rome his Pamtusis ad Sectarios,
Libra Duo; a work in which he seems to have aimed
at atoning for his former sarcasms at tlic pope, by
attacking those whom his holiness called heretics.
Barclay seems to have been honoured with many
marks of kindness, not only from the pope, but also
from Cardinal Barberini; yet it does not appear that
he obtained much emolument. Incumbered with a
wife and family, and having a spirit al)ove his
fortune, this omission must have been peculiarly
trying. It was at tiiat time that he composed his
Latin romance called Argeitis. He employed his
vacant hours in cultivating a flower garden; and
Rossi relates, in his turgid Italian style, that Barclay
cared not for those bulbous roots which produce
flowers of a sweet scent, but cultivated such as pro-
duced flowers void of smell, but having variety of
colours. Hence we may conclude that he was
among the first of those wiio were infected with that
strange disease, a passion for tulips, which soon after
overspread Europe, and is commemorated under the
name of the tulipo-iitania. liarclay might tnily
have saiil with Virgil, ^'' Tanttis amor jlontml" He
had two mastiffs placed as sentinels to protect his
garden; and rather tiian abandon his favourite flowers,
chose to continue his residence in an ill-aired and
unwholesome situation.

This extraordinary genius, who seems to have
combined the pcrfcrviJum iit^cniuui of his father's
country with the mercurial vivacity of his mother's,
died at Rome on the I2th of August, 1621, in the
thirty-ninth year of his age. He left a wife, who
had tormented him much with jealousy (throtigh
the ardour of her affection, as he explained it),
besides three children, of whom two were i)oys. tie
also left in the hands of the printer his celebrated
.Irj^c'/tis, and also an unpublished history of the
conquest of Jerusalem, and some fragments of a
general history of Kuro;)e. He was buried in the
church of ."^t. Onuphrius, and his widow erected a
monument to him, with his bust in marl^Ie, at the
cluirch of St. Lawrence, on the road to Tivoli. A
strange circumstance caused the destruction of this
tropliy. Cardinal Barberini chanced to erect a
munumeut, exactly similar, at the same place, to his
preceptor, l^cmarJiis GtilicHiis a iiioiite Saiuti Sa/'iiii.
When the widow of IS.irclay heard of this, slie said,
"My hu.->l)and was a man of birth, and famous in
the literary wniM; 1 wtII not suffer him to remain
on a level with a ba^e and obscure pedagogue."
She therefore cau-otl the Inist to be removed, and
the inscrijitinn to he (>l)Hterate(l. The account given
of the .■l>\riiis I'v Lord Hailes, who wrote a life of
John Barclay as a >;iecinien of a l^io^rapliia Scotica}
is as follows: '•Aryans is generally supposed to be
a history under feigned names, and not a romance.

' Prime J in 4t''. in i-
skctch.

uiui-ujr'r. of the prc>cr.t

Barclay himself contributed to establish this opinion,
by introducing some real characters into the work.
But that was merely to compliment certain digni-
taries of the church, whose good offices he courted,
or whose power he dreaded. The key prefixed to
Argenis has jierpetuated the error. There are, no
doubt, many incidents in it that allude to the state
of France during the civil wars in the seventeenth
century; but it requires a strong imagination indeed
to discover Queen Elizal)eth in Hyanisl)e, or Henry
HI. of France in Meleander." On the whole,
Argenis appears to be a jjoetical fable, replete with
moral and political reflections. Of this work three
English translations have appeared, the last in 1772;
but it now only enjoys the reflective reputation of a
work that was once in high re[nite. We may quote,
however, the opinion which Cowjjcr was pleased to
express regarding this singular production. "It is,"
says the poet of Olney, "the most amusing romance
that ever was written. It is the only one, indeed,
of an old date, that I had ever the patience to go
through with. It is interesting in a high degree,
richer in incident than can be imagined, full of sur-
prises, which the reader never forestalls, and yet
free from entanglement and confusion. The style
too appears to me to be such as would not dishonour
Tacitus himself."

BAECLAY, Robert, the celebrated apologist
for the Quakers, was born on the 23d of December,
1648, at Gordonstoun, in Moray. His father,
Colonel David Barclay, of Ur\-, was the son of
David Barclay of Mathers, the representative of an
old Scoto-Xorman family, which traced itself, through
fifteen intervening generations, to Theobald de
Berkeley, who acquired a settlement in Scotland at
the beginning of the tv.elftli century. The mother
of the apologist was Catherine Gordon, daughter of
Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonstoun, the premier
baronet of Nova Scotia, and well-known historian
of the house of Sutherland.

The ancient family of De Berkeley became pos-
sessed of the estate of Mathers, by marriage, in the
year 1351. Alexander de Berkeley, who flourished
in the fifteenth centur}-, is said to have been the first
laird of Mathers wiio changed the name to Barclay.
David, the grandfather of the apologist, was rctluced
to such difficulties as to be obliged to sell the estate
of Mathers, after it ha<l been between two and tliree
hundred years in the family, as also the more ancient
inheritance, which had been the property of the
family from its first settlement in Scotland in the
days of King David I. His son David, the fath.er
of the apologist, was consequently obliged to seek
his fortune as a volunteer in the Scottish brigatles in
the service of Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweilen.
Tills gentleman, like many others of his countrymen
and fellow-soldiers, returned home on the brcakirig
out of the religious troubles in Scotland, and receivei
the command of a troop of horse. H.iving joir.ed
the a nil y raised by the Duke of Hamilton in 164S
for the relief of Charles I., he was subsei;i;ci;ily
dejirived of his command, at the instance oi ( ^\\\-^x
Cromwell; and he never after\\ari!s appeared in any
military transactions. During the ]iii)tector.-.;e. lie
was several times sent as a representative \\'W\
Scotland to Cromwell's parliaments, and. i:i th|-
capacity, is said t<i have unitV>rmly exerted iiimseit
to repress the ambitioiis design- of the t'l. teetor.
.\fter the rest, iration, David I'.arclay \vr.- c -nMnittcd
prisoner to Kdinl)urgh Castle, tqion s< -nie -;■• ■undless
charge of hostility to the g' .vennnent. He wa- soon
at'ter liberated, througli the interest o{ tiie F.arl o'i
MidiUetun, with who'm he had served ;:i ti.e civil

90

ROBERT BARCLAY,

war. But during this imprisonment, a change of the
highest importance, both to himself and his son, had
come over his mind. In the same prison was con-
fined the celebrated laird of Swinton, who, after
figuring under the protectorate as a lord of session,
and a zealous instrument for the support of Crom-
well's interest in .Scotland, had, during a sliort
residence in England before the restoration, adopted
the principles of Quakerism, then recently pro-
mulgated for the first time by George Fox, and was
now more anxious to gain proselytes to that body
than to defend his life against the prosecution that
awaited him. When this extraordinary person was
placed on trial before parliament, he might have
easily eluded justice by pleading that the parlia-
mentary attainder upon which he was now charged
had become null by the rescissory act. But he
scorned to take advantage of any plea suggested by
worldly lawyers. He answered, in the spirit of his
sect, that when he committed the crimes laid to his
charge he was in the gall of bitterness and bond of
iniquity, but that God having since called him to
the light, he saw and acknowledged his past errors,
and did not refuse to pay the forfeit of them, even
though in their judgment this should extend to his
life. His speech was, though modest, so majestic,
and, though expressive of the most perfect patience,
so pathetic, that it appeared to melt the heart of his
judges, and, to the surprise of all who remembered
his past deeds, he was recommended to the royal
mercy, while many others, far less obnoxious, were
treated with unrelenting severity. Such was the
man who inoculated David Barclay with those prin-
ciples of which his son was destined to be the most
distinguished advocate.

Rol)ert Barclay, the subject of the present article,
received the rudiments of learning in his native
country, and was afterwards sent to the Scots college
at Paris, of which his uncle Robert (son to the last
Barclay of Mathers) was rector. Here he made
such rapid advances in his studies, as to gain the
notice and praise of the masters of the college; and
he also became so great a favourite with his uncle,
as to receive the offer of being made his heir, if he
would remain in France. But his father, fearing
that he might be induced to emlirace the Catholic
faith, went, in comjiliance with his mother's dying
request, to Paris to bring him home, when he
was not much more than sixteen years of age.
The uncle still endeavoured to prevent his return,
and proposed to purchase for him, and present to
him immediately, an estate greater than his paternal
one. Ro!)ert replied, "He is my father, and must
be ol)eyed." Thus, even at a very early age, he
showed how far he could prefer a sacred princijjle to
any view of private intenj?>t, however dazzling. His
uncle is said to have felt much chagrin at his refusal,
and to have consequently left his j)roperty to the
college and to other religious houses in France.

The return of Robert Barclay to his native country
took i)lace in 1664, about two years before his father
made oyian jirofession of the princii)les of the Society
of Friends. He was now, even at the early age of
sixteen, jierfectiy skilled in the French and Latin
languages, the latter of which he could write and
speak with wonderful fluency and correctness; he
had also a conqietent knowledge <jf the sciences.
With regard to the state of his feelings on the subject
of religion at this early j^eriod of life, he says, in his
Treatise on Universal Lenje: "My first education,
from my infancy, fell amongst the strictest sort of
Calvinists; those of our country being generally ac-
knowledged to be the severest of that sect; in the
heat of zeal surpassing not only Geneva, from whence

they derive their pedigree, but all other the re-
formed churches abroad, so called. I had scarce got
out of my childhood, when I was, by the permission
of divine providence, cast among the company of
Papists; and my tender years and immature capacity
not being able to withstand and resist the insinua-
tions that were used to jjroselyte me to that way, I
became quickly defiled with the pollutions thereof,
and continued therein for a time, until it pleased
God, through his rich love and mercy, to deliver me
out of those snares, and to give me a clear under-
standing of the evil of tliat way. In both these sects
I had abundant occasion to receive impressions con-
trary to this principle of love:- seeing the straitness
of several of their doctrines, as well as their practice
of persecution, do abundantly declare how opposite
they are to universal love. The time that intervened
betwixt my forsaking the Church of Rome, and
joining those with whom I now stand engaged, I
kept myself free from joining with any sort of people,
though I took liberty to hear several; and my con-
verse was most with those that inveigh much against
judging, and such kind of severity; which latitude
may perhaps be esteemed the other extreme, opposite
to the precisencss of these other sects; whereby I
also received an opportunity to know what usually
is pretended on that side likewise. As for those I
am now joined to, I justly esteem them to be the
true followers and servants of Jesus Christ."

In his Apology he communicates the following
account of his conversion to the principles previously
embraced by his father. "It was not," he says,
"by strength of argument, or by a particular dis-
quisition of each doctrine, and convincement of my
understanding thereby, that I came to receive and
bear witness of the truth, but by being secretly
reached by this life. For when I came into the
silent assemblies of God's people, I felt a secret
power amongst them which touched my heart; and
as I gave way unto it, I found the evil weakening in
me, and the good raised up; and so I became thus
knit and united unto them, hungering more and
more after the increase of this power and life,
whereby I might find myself perfectly redeemed."
According to his friend William Penn, it was in the
year 1667, when only nineteen years of age, that he
iully liecame "convinced, and publicly owned the
testimony of the true light, enlightening every man."
"This writer," says he, "came early forth a zealous
and fervent witness for it [the true light], enduring
the cross and despising the shame that attended his
discipleshij), and received the gift of the ministry as
his greatest honour, in which he laboured to bring
others to God, and his labour was not in vain in the
Lord." The tme grounds of Barclay's predilection
for the meek princi])les of the Friends is perhaps to
be found in his physical temperament. On arriving
in Scotland, in 1664, with a heart open to every
generous inqiulse, his mild nature ajipears, from one
of the alxjve extracts of his own writings, to have
lieen shocked by the mutual hostility which existed
between the adherents of the established ami the dis-
established churches. While these \^ofX\c^i judged of
each other in the severest s])irit, they joined in one
point alone — a sense of the propriety of jiersccuting
the new and strange sect called Quakers, from whom
both might rather have learned a lesson of forbear-
ance and toleration. Barclay, who, from his French
education, was totally free of all ])rejudices on either
side, seems to have deliberately preferred that sect
which alone, of all others in his native country, pro-
fc>se(i to regard every denomination of fcIlow-Cliris-
tian^ witli an equal feeling of kindness.

In February, 1C69-70, Roi:)ert Barclay married

ROBERT BARCLAY.

91

Christian Mollison, daughter of Gilbert Mollison,
merchant in Aberdeen; and on his marriage settled
at Ury with his father. The issue of this marriage
was three sons and four daughters, all of whom
survived him, and were living fifty years after his
death. Robert Barclay after his marriage lived
about sixteen years with his father; in which time
he wrote most of those works by which his fame has
been established. All his time, however, was not
])assed in endeavouring to serve the cause of religion
with his pen. He both acted and suffered for it.
His whole existence, indeed, seems to have been
henceforth devoted to the interests of that profession
of religion which he had adopted. In prosecution
of his purpose, he made a number of excursions into
England, Holland, and particular parts of Germany;
teaching, as he went along, the universal and saving
light of Christ, sometimes vocally, but as often, we
may suppose, by what he seems to have considered
the far more powerful manner, expressive silence.
In these peregrinations, the details of which, had
they been preserved, would have been deeply in-
teresting, he was on some occasions accompanied by
the famous William Penn, and probably also by
others of the brethren.

The first of his publications in the order of time
was, " Truth cleared of Calumnies, occasioned by
a book entitled A Dialogue behveen a Quaker and
a Stable Christian, written by the Rev. William
Mitchell, a minister or preacher in tlie neighbour-
hood of Aberdeen." "The Quakers," says a defender
of the Scottish church, "were, at this time, only
newly risen up; they were, like every new sect, ob-
trusively forward ; some of their tenets were of
a startling and some of them of an incomprehensible
kind, and to the rigid Presbyterians especially they
were exceedingly offensive. Hearing these novel
opinions, not as simply stated and held by the
Quakers, who were, generally speaking, no great
logicians, but in their remote consequences, they
regarded tiiem with horror, and in the heat of their
zeal, it must be confessed, often lost sight both of
charity and truth. They thus gave their generally
passive opponents great advantages over them.
Barclay, who was a man of great talents, was certainly
in this instance successful in refuting many false
charges, and rectifying many forced constructions
that had been put upon parts of their practice, and,
upon the whole, setting the character of his silent
brethren in a more favourable light than formerly;
though he was far from having demonstrated, as
these brethren fondly imagined, 'the soundness and
.Scrijiture verity of their principles.'" This pul)!ica-
tion was dated at Ury, the 19th of the second month,
1670, aiul in the eleventh montli of the same year,
ho added to it, by way of appendix, "Some things
of wei:;lny concernment proposed in meekness and
love, hy way of queries, to the serious consideration
of the inhabitants of Aberdeen, which also may be
ot u>e to such as are of the same mind with lliem
elsewhere in this nation." These queries, twenty in
nunihcr. were more particularly directed to Messrs.
David I.yal, George .Meldrum, and John Menzies,
the ministers of .-Vberdecn, who had, not only from
the pulpit i'orl)i<l(len their people to read the afore-
said treati>e, but had applied to the magistrates of
Abenlcen to suppress it. Mitchell wrote a reply to
Trutii cleared of Calunuiits, and on the 24th (lav of
the tenth month. 1671, Barclay finished a rejoinder
at L'ry. under the title of // 'ilUaiu Mitchell Unmasked,
or the Sla-e;erutr Instahdity of the I'retended Stable
Chns'um Discos ered ; his Omissions Ohser'red, and
Weakr.ess CnzaHed. Ov;c. Tliis goes over the same
ground with the former treatise, and is seasoned

with several severe strokes of sarcasm against these
Aberdonians, who, "notwithstanding they harJ sworn
to avoid a detestable naitrality, could now preach
under the bishop, dispense with the doxology, fur-
bear lecturing and other parts of the directorial
discipline, at the bishop's order, and yet keep a re-
serve for presbytery in case it came again in fashion."
He also turns some of William Mitchell's arguments
against himself with great ingenuity, though still he
comes far short of establishing his own theorj-. It
is worthy of remark, that, in this treatise, he has
frequent recourse to Richard Baxter's aphorisms on
justification, whose new law scheme of the gospel
seems to have been very much to the taste of the
Quaker. It appears to have been on the appearance
of this publication that, "for a sign and wonder to
the generation," he walked through the chief streets
of the city of Aberdeen, clothed in sackcloth and
ashes; on which occasion he published (in 1672)
a Seasonable Warning and Serious Exhortation to,
and Expostulation zvith, the Inhabitants of Aberdeen,
concerning this present Dispensation and Day of
Gods Living Visitatioii to^wards them.

His next perfonnance was, A Catechism and Con-
fession of Eaith, the answers to the cjuestions being
all in the express words of Scripture; and the pre-
face to it is dated, "From Urj', the place of my
being, in my native country of Scotland, the nth of
the sixth month, 1673." This was followed by
The Anarchy of the Ranters, &c.

We now come to his great work, ".-^w Apology for
the true Christian Divinity, as the same is held forth
and preached by the People called in scorn Quakers:
being a full explanation and vindication of their
principles and doctrines, by many arguments deduced
from Scripture and right reason, and the testimonies
of famous authors, both ancient and modern; with
a full answer to the strongest objections usually made
against them. Presented to the king. Written and
published in Latin for the infonnation of strangers,
by Robert Barclay, and now put into our own lan-
guage for the benefit of his countrvmen." The
epistle to the king, prefixed to this elaborate work,
is dated, "From Ury, the place of my pilgrimage,
in my native countn.' of .Scotland, the 25th of the
month called November, 1675." This epistle is not
a little curious, among other things, for the ardent
anticijiations which the writer indulges with regard
to the increase and future prevalence of the doctrines
of the Quakers, which he calls "the gospel now
again revealed after a long and dark night of apostasy,
and commanded to be preached to all nations.'
After some paragraphs, sufficiently complimentaiy
to the peaceable habits of his silence-loving brethren.
he tells his majesty that "generations to come will
not more admire that singular step of Divine Provi-
dence, in restoring thee to thy throne without blood-
shed, than they shall admire the increase and proL;rc-s
of this truth without all outward help, and agaii>t
so great opposition, which shall be none of the lea-t
things rendering thy memory remarkable." In
looking back upon the atrocities tliat marked t'r.c
reign of Charles II., the growth of r)uakLri-;n '. -
scarcely ever thought of, an<l the suffering> "t ;'-,
professors are nearly invisil)le, by rea--on ot t!ic t.;r
greater sufferings of another branch o! the (.lir;-i'an
church. Though led by his entlui>ia~:n inli:-"^\:l
cause to overrate it, Barclay certair.ly ha<l iv) ir/ni,-
tion of llattering the king, '"(iol.'' lie goc> '-v. tii
tell him, "hath done great things f^r tlice; he i;at;:
sufficiently shown thee th.it it is l>y him jrincc- rule.
and that he can juill down and .~ei up at hi-- : !ca>ure.
Thou ha^t tasted of prosperity an^l a'.vcr-ity; tli.ju
knuwe^t wh.it it is tu be banijiied th.y riaiivc coiuru'v,

92

ROBERT BARCLAY.

to be overruled as well as to rule and sit upon the
throne, ami i)eing oppressed thou hast reason to know
how hateful the oppressor is. both to God and man.
If after all these warnings and advertisements, thou
dost not turn unto the Lonl w ith all thy heart, but
forget him who remembered thee in thy distress, and
give up thyself to lust and vanity, surely great will
be thy condemnation."

The Apology is a most elaborate work, indicating
no small portion of both talent and learning. It
contains, indeed, the sum of the author's thoughts
in those treatises we have already mentioned, as well
as in those which he afterwards published, digested
into fifteen propositions, in which are include<l all the
peculiar notions of the sect: — immediate revelation;
the universal spiritual light; silent worship; perfec-
tion; the rejection of the Sabbath and the sacraments,
&c. iv:c. This is done with great aj^parent simplicity,
and many plausible reasons, a number of excellent
thoughts being struck out by the way; yet they are
far from being satisfactory, and never will be so to
any who are not already strongly possessed with an
idea of the internal light in man, to which the author
holds even the Scriptures tliemselves to be sub-
ordinate. There are, indeed, in tlie book, many
sophisms, many flat contradictions, and many asser-
tions that are incapable of any proof. The appeals
which he makes to his own experience for the proof
of his doctrines are often not a little curious, and
strongly illustrative of his character, as well as of the
principles he had adopted.

The same year in which he published \.\\q Apology,
he published an account of a dispute with the
students of Aberdeen, which touches little besides
the folly of such attempts to establish tnith or con-
fute error. The following year, in conjunction with
George Keith, he put forth a kind of second part to
the foregoing article, which they entitled Quakerism
Confirmed, being an anyii-er to a pamphlet by Ike
Aberdeen Students, entitled Quakerism Canvassed.
This treats only of matters to be found in a better
form in the Apology. In the first month of the year
J677, from Aberdeen prison, he wrote his treatise
of Universal Lofc; and in the end of the same year
he wrote from his house at Ury, An Epistle 0/ Love
and Friendly Advice to the Ambassadors of the several
Princes of Europe, met at Nimeguen, to consult the
peace of Christendom so far as they are concerned;
■Zi'herein the true cause of the present war is discovered,
and the right remedy and means for a firm and
settled peace is proposed. This last was written in
Latin, but published also in EngUsh for the benefit
of his cnuitrymen. Both of the above tracts de-
serve serious penisal. In 1679 he ])ublished a vin-
dication of his Apolo':;y: and iii 1686 his last work,
The Possibility and Xecessity of the In'cvard and Imme-
diate Pcvelatuvi of the Spirit of God tcrwards the foun-
dation and ground of true faith; in a letter to a person
of (juality in Holland; ]iublished both in Latin and
English. In neither of tiiese, in our opinion, has
he added anything to his Apology, which, as we have
already said, contains the sum of all that he has
written or jjuljlished.

In the latter j)art of his life, Barclay obtained, by
the influence of iiis taleiUs and the sincerity and
simjilicity of his character and professions, an exemj)-
tion from that ])ersecution whicii marked his early
years. lie had also contributed in no small degree,
by the eloquence of his writings in defence of the
Friends, to procure for them a considerable share of
public respect. He is even found, strangely encjugh,
to have latterly possessed some influence at tlie
dissolute court of Charles II. In 1679 he obtained
a charter from this monarch, under tiie great seal,

erecting his lands of Ury,'' into a free barony, with
civil and criminal jurisdiction to him and his heirs.
This charter was afterwards ratified by an act of
parliament, the preamble of which states it to be
"for tlie many services done by Colonel David
Barclay, and his son the said Robert Barclay, to
the king and his most royal progenitors in times
past." Another and more distinguished mark of
court favour was conferred upon him in 1682, when
he received the nominal appointment of governor of
East Jersey, in North America, from the proprietors
of that province, of whom his friend the Earl of
Perth was one. He was also himself made a pro-
prietor, and had allotted to him 5000 acres of land
above his proprietary share, as inducements for his
acceptance of the dignity, which, at the same time,
he was permitted to depute. The royal commission
confirming this grant states, that such are his known
fidelity and capacity, that he has the government
during life, but that no other governor after him
shall have it for more than three years. One of his
brothers settled in the province, but he never visited
it himself. In this year we find him assisting the
Laird of Swinton with his interest and purse at
Edinburgh; thus answering practically and freely the
apostolic expostulation (i Cor. ix. 11), by permit-
ting Swinton to reap carnal things, who had sown
spiritual things to his family.

The remainder of his life is not marked with many
instances of public action. Much of it appears to
have been passed in tranquillity, and in the bosom
of his family; yet he occasionally undertook journeys
to promote his private concerns, to serve his rela-
tions and neighbours, or to maintain the cause of
his brethren in religious profession. He was in
London in 1685, and had frequent access to King
James II., who had all along evinced a warm friend-
ship towards him. Barclay, on the other hand,
thinking James sincere in his faith, and perhaps in-
fluenced a little by the flattery of a prince's favour,
appears to have conceived a real regard for this
misguided and imprudent monarch. Liberty of con-
science having been conceded to the Friends on the
accession of James II., Barclay exerted his influence
to procure some parliamentary arrangement, by which
they might be exempted from the harsh and ruinous
prosecutions to which they were exposed, in conse-
quence of their peculiar notions as to the exercise
of the law. He. was again in London on this
business in 1686, on wliich occasion he visited the
seven bishops then confined in the Tower for hav-
ing refused to distribute in their respective dioceses
the king's declaration for liberty of conscience, and
for having represented to the king the grounds of
their objection to the measure. Tlie po]iular ojMnion
was in favour of the bishops; yet the former severities
of some of the episcopal order against dissenters,
particularly against the Friends, occasioned some
reflections on them. This having come to the
knowledge of the imprisoned bishops, they declared
that "the Quakers had l)elicd them, by rejiorting
that they hail been the death of some." Robert
Barclay, being informed of this declaration, went to
the Tower, and gave their lordships a well-substan-
tiated account of some persons having been detained
in prison till death by order of bishops, though
they had been ajijirised of the danger by jdiysicians
who were not Quakers. He, however, observed to
the bishops, that it was by no means the intention
of tlie P'riends to publish such events, and thereby
give tiie king and their other adversaries any ad-

1 His fallicr had died in 1C76, leaving him in pobscssion of
this cbtatc.

WILLIAM BARCLAY

vantage against them. Darclay was in London, for
the last time, in the memorable year 1688. He
visited James II., and being with him near a
window, the king looked out, and observed that
**tiie wind was then fair for the Prince of Orange to
come over." Robert Barclay replied, "it was hard
that no expedient could be found to satisfy the
people." The king declared "he would do any-
thing becoming a gentleman, except parting with
liberty of conscience, which he never would whilst
he lived." Barclay took a final leave of the un-
fortunate king, for whose disasters he was much
concerned, and with whom he had been several
times engaged in serious discourse.

Robert Barclay "laid down the body," says
Andrew Jaffray, "in the holy and honourable truth,
wherein he had served it about three and twenty
years, upon the 3d day of the eighth month, 1690,
near the forty and second year of his age, at his own
house of Urie, in Scotland, and it was laid in his
own burial ground there, upon the 6th day of the
same month, before many friends and other people."
His character has been thus drawn by another of
the amicable fraternity to which he belonged:' —

" He was distinguished by strong mental powers,
particularly by great penetration, and a sound and
accurate judgment. His talents were much improved
by a regular and classical education. It does not,
however, appear that his superior qualifications pro-
duced that elation of mind which is too often tlieir
attendant: he was meek, humljle, and ready to allow
to others the merit they possessed. All his passions
were under tlie most excellent government. Two
of his intimate friends, in their character of him,
declare that they never knew him to be angry. He
had the happiness of early perceiving the infinite
superiority of religion to every other attainment; and
the Divine grace enabled him to dedicate his life,
and all that he possessed, to promote the cause of
piety and virtue. P'or the welfare of his friends he
was sincerely and warmly concerned: and he travelled
and wrote much, as well as suffered cheerfully, in
support of the society and the principles to which he
had conscientiously attached himself. But this was
not a blind and bigoted attachment. His zeal was
tempered with charity; and he loved and respected
goodness wherever he found it. His uncorrupted
integrity and liberality of sentiment, his great abilities
and suavity of disposition, gave him much interest
with persons of rank and intluence, and he employed
it in a manner that marked the benevolence of his
heart. He loved peace, and was often instrumental
in settling disputes, and in producing reconciliations
between contending parties. ... In private
life he was equally amiable. His conversation was
cheerful, guarded, and instmctive. He was a dutiful
son, an atTectionate and faithful husband, a tender
and careful father, a kind and considerate master.
Without exaggeration, it may l>e said, that piety and
virtue were recommended by his example; and that,
though the period of his life was short, he had, by
the aid of divine grace, most wisely and hajipily
improved it. He lived long enough to manifest, in
an eminent degree, the teniper and conduct of a
Christian, and tlie virtues and qualifications of a true
minister of tlie gospel.''

BARCLAY, William, an eminent civilian, and
fitlier of the still more ceiel)rated author of the
Ar^iiiis, was descended from one of the best families
in Scotland under the rank of nol)ilit\', and was

LADY ANNE BARNARD.

93

1 .-J .V/;<'r/ AcwDit ,y ::u Lfjl- and ii'ri:{,:^s r/ Kch
Carji'.iy, Lonjun, iSoi.

bom in .M)crdeenshirc, in 1541. He spent his early
years in the court of Queen Mary, with wh<jm he
was in high favour. After her captivity in England,
disgusted with the turbulent state of his native
country, which promised no advantage to a man of
learning, he removed to France (1573), and began
to study the law at Bourges. Having in time quali-
fied himself to teach the civil law, he was ajjpointed
by the Duke of Lorrain, througii the recommend.i-
tlon of his kinsman Kdmund Hay, the Jesuit, to l>c
a professor of that .science in the university of I'on-
tamousson, l)eing at tlie same time counsellor of
state and master of requests to his ])rincely patron.
In 1581 he married Anne de Maleviile, a young
lady of Lorrain, by whom he had his son John, the
subject of a preceding article. This youth showed
tokens of genius at an early period, and was sought
from his father by the Jesuits, that he might enter
their society. The father, thinking proper to refu^e
the request, became an object of such wrath to that
learned and unscnipulous fraternity, that he was
compelled to abandon all his preferments, and seek
refuge in England. This was in 1603, just at the
time when his native sovereign had acceded to the
throne of England. James I. offered him a pension,
and a place in his councils, on condition that he
would embrace the Protectant faith; but though
indignant at the intrigues of the Jesuits, he W(ju!d
not desert their religion. In 1604 he letunied to
Erance, and became professor of civil law at Angers,
where he taught for a considerable time with higli
reputation. It is said that he entertained a very-
high sense of the dignity of his office. He used to
"go to school every day, attended by a servant who
went before him, himself having a rich robe lined
with ermine, the train of which was supported by
two servants, and his son upon his right hand; and
there hung about his neck a great chain of gold,
with a medal of gold with his own picture." Such
was, in those days, the pomp and circumstance of
the profession of civil law. He did not long enjoy
this situation, dying towards the close of 1605. He
is allowed to have been very learned, not only in the
civil and canon law, but in the classical languages,
and in ecclesiastical history. But his prejudices
were of so violent a nature as to obscure both his
genius and erudition. He zealously maintained the
at:)solute power of monarchs, and had an illiberal
antipathy to the Protestant religion. His works are:

1. A Coutrozcrsial Treatise on the I\cva! /''Tivr,
against Bitc/iaiian ana' other A'ifig-killers, Paris, 1600;

2. A Treatise on the Poicer 0/ the Pope, sho^.oiiig that
he has no Right of Rule ozer Seeiilar Princes, l6cx};

3. A Commentary on the litle of the Pandects de
Re/'is Creditis. (kc. ; 4. .•/ Commentary on Tacitus
Life of Agrieola. All these works, as well as tlicir
titles, are in Latin.

BARNARD, Lady Anne. This lady, wlio by
a single song has immortalized her name, was tl;c
eldest daughter of the fifth Earl of P.alcarres. SI.j
was born on the 8th of December, 1750, and i;n ler
circumstances that were grievou^ly si;li\er>ive '■! a
cherished prediction. "There had long exi~ied a
prophecy that the first child of the last tie.-cen':.-:!.', • t
the house of I'alcarres was to re>tore tlie fanii'v > ■:
Stuart to those hereditary riglits wliieh tl'.e i'-,-;"'-!y
of James had deprived tlieni ot. The J.iu'I .U-^
seemed to have gained new life en tlie "Cca-;'t;: tl'.e
wizards and witches of the party had \"\\\-.'\ it in their
books; the devil had menti' 'ned it to . .r.e < r two nf
his ]iarticular frienci-; old ladies ha-1 re.i'. ;t Ii-av. tlie
grounds of tlieir coffee, — no wnndcr il "i.e eve;;; v,as
welcomed bv the gr.i-p uf exriring i. •; -.

94

LADY ANNE BARNARD.

In due course of time the partizans of the Pretender,
th2 soothsayers, wizards, witches, the bards, fortune-
tellers, and old ladies, were all in a group, amazed,
disconcerted, and enraged to learn that Lady Balcarres
was brought to bed of a daughter after all, — absol-
utely but a daughter." Such is her own amusing
account of the circumstances under which she was
ushered into the world. "That child," she adds,
"was the Anne Lindsay who now addresses you,
and in the arms of my nurse I promised to be a little
heiress, perhaps a heroine worthy of having my name
posted on the front of a novel."

After an account of her infancy and youth written
in the same lively style. Lady Anne Lindsay (for
this was her maiden name) gives an account of the
education by which her mind was formed. Not the
least of her intellectual advantages was the society
with which she was brought in contact, in her occa-
sional visits to Edinburgh; and among the dis-
tinguished of the day whom she met in that city, may
be mentioned, Henry Mackenzie, author of 'J'hc
Miin of Feeling, Lord Monboddo, and in 1773 Dr.
Johnson, when he visited the northern metropolis.
One part of her self-education at her country-house
in Fifeshire is too interesting to be omitted: — "Re-
siding," she says, "in the solitude of the country,
without other sources of entertainment than what I
could draw from myself, I used to mount up to my
little closet in the high winding staircase, which
commanded the sea, the lake, the rock, the birds,
the beach, — and, with my pen in my hand, and a
few envelopes of old letters (which too often vanished
afterwards), scribble away poetically and in prose,
till I made myself an artificial happiness, which did
very well pour passer le temps, though far better
would my attempts have been had I had Margaret's
judgment to correct them."

The fruits of such training was the song of Aitld
Ko!'in Gray, which Lady Anne wrote in the beginning
of 1772, when she was twenty-one years old. As every
circumstance connected with such a matchless lyric is
interesting, and as no account can be more interesting
than that of the authoress, we give it in her own
words: — "Robin Gray, so called from its being the
name of the old herdsman at Balcarres, was born
soon after the close of 1771. My sister Margaret
had married, and accompanied her husband to
London; I was melancholy, and endeavoured to
amuse myself by attempting a few poetical trifles.
There was an ancient .Scotch melody of wliich I was
passionately fond, — Sopliy Johnston, wlio lived
before your day, used to sing it to us at Balcarres; I
longed to sing old .Sophy's air to different words, and
to give to its ])Iaintive tones some little history of
virtuous fijstress in humble life, such as might suit it.
\Vhile attem]iting to effect this in my closet, I called
to my little sister, now Lady Ilardwicke, who was
the only ]ier^on near me — 'I have been writing a
1>allad, my dear; I am o])pressing my heroine with
many misfortunes: I liave alrea<ly sent her Jamie to
sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her
mother fall sick, and given her auld Robin Gray for
a lover, but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow in
the four lines, poor thing I help me to one, I ]>ray.'
— '.Steal the cow, sister -Xniie, said the little l^liza-
beth. The cow was immediately lifted by me, and
the song completed. At our fireside, amongst our
neighbours, Auld Kohin Gray was always called for;
I was pleased with the a]iprobation it met with, but
such was my dread of being siisj^ected of writing
anything, perceiving the shyness it created in th(jse
who could write nothing, that I carefully ke])t my
own secret. . . . ^ieantime, little as this matter
seems to have been worthy of dispute, it afterwards

became almost a party question between the sixteenth
and eighteenth centuries: Kobin Gray was either a
very, very ancient ballad, composed perhaps by
David Rizzio, and a great curiosity; or a very, very
modem matter, and no curiosity at all. I was per-
secuted to confess whether I had written it, or if not,
where I had got it. Old .Sophy kept my counsel,
and I kept my own, in spite of the gratification of
seeing a reward of twenty giuneas offered in the
newspapers to the person who should ascertain the
point past a doubt, and the still more flattering

circumstance of a visit from Mr. J , secretary to

the Antiquarian Society, who endeavoured to entrap
the truth from me in a manner I took amiss. Had
he asked me the question obligingly, I should have
told him the fact distinctly, but confidentially; the
annoyance, however, of this important ambassador
from the antiquaries was amply repaid to me by
the noble exhibition of the ballet of Auld l\ohi)t
Gray^s Courtship, as performed by dancing dogs
under my windows: — it proved its popularity from
the highest to the lowest, and gave me pleasure while
I hugged myself in my obscurity." Li the reticence
of Lady Anne, that could keep the fact of her
authorship concerded after her ballad had become
the admired of all classes, and been translated into
almost every European language, there was a power
of secretiveness more remarkable than the talent by
which such beautiful verses were created. It was
only in 1823, fifty-two years after the song had been
composed, that she broke silence, and confessed
herself the author of the song. The occasion also
was worthy of the acknowledgment. In that year,
when the tale of the Pirate appeared, the author of
IVaverley compared the condition of Minna to that of
Jeannie Gray, "the village-heroine in Lady Anne
Lindsay's beautiful ballad:" —

"Nae langer she wept, her tears were a' spent,
IJcspair it was come, and she thought it content:
She thought it content — but her cheek it grew pale.
And she drooped hke a snow-drop broke down by the hail."

This detection by the highest literary authority fif
the day, convinced Lady Anne that concealment was
no longer possible; and in a letter to .Sir Walter she
wrote the confession from which we have quoted.

It was not until many years after Auld A'ol'iii Gray
was written, that a second part was added to it.
It was produced also to gratify the wishes of her
mother the Countess of Balcarres, who had often said
to her, "Annie, I wish you would tell me how that
unlucky business of Jeanie and Jamie ended." I^ady
Anne had also got a hint for the develojiment of the
plot, of which she now availed herself. On hearing
the song as it first appeared, the laird of Dalzell
burst out wrathfully with, "Oh the villain ! oh the
auld rascal I / ken wha stealt the poor lassie's coo
— it was Auld Robin Gray himsel !" In the second
jiart therefore, "Auld Rob" is seized with remorse
at the sight of his broken-hearted wife's rc])ining;
t.akes tf) his bed, and after confessing that he had
stolen the cow for the jnirpose of furthering his suit,
he dies, leaving Jamie his sole heir, and recommend-
ing that the jiair should be married — an advice which
they are not slow to folhnv. But like all such
additions, the second part was a failure. The secjuel
was an abru])t intrusion upon the pleasing jxieticnl
sadness in which the first ])art left the hearers, and
they were in no mood to l>e defrauded u\ sucii a
sentimental luxury. The voice of the singer and the
feelings of the audience were too much touched by
the first part, to endure the details of the second.

Her sister Margaret, who had married very early
and become a widow, was joined in London by Latly

LADY AXNE BARNARD ANDREW BARTON.

95

Anne. The beauty and accomplishments of the two
ladies procured them a choice society and many
admirers, and the hand of Anne was sought in
marriage by several men of the first distinction in
the country. The house of the attractive sisters
in London is described by Lord Balcarres, their
brother, as having become "the meeting-place of
great and good characters, literary and political ;"
and the most distinguished of these, Burke, Sheridan,
Windham, and Dundas, confirm the assertion. The
Prince of Wales was also their familiar guest and
friend, and his attachment to Lady Anne ended only
with his life. She remained single until 1793, when
she gave her hand to Andrew Barnard, Esq., the son
of the Bishop of Limerick, an accomplished but not
wealthy gentleman, and younger than herself, whom
she accompanied to the Cape of Good IIo])e, in con-
sequence of his ap])ointment as colonial secretary
under Lord Macartney. The journals of her resi-
dence at the Cape, and of her excursions into the
interior of the country, illustrated witli drawings
and sketches of the scenes described, are still pre-
served among the family manuscripts. When in
South Africa, she had always a strong wish to visit
Australia, then only known as "Botany Bay," "not,"
she humorously adds, "from a longing to commit
a crime, but from a desire to rejoice with the angels
over repenting sinners. If one reformed rogue gives
to beatified spirits as much joy as the good conduct
of ninety-nine righteous jjcrsons, what a feeling must
be created by such a group!" Like other amiable
enthusiasts of the period, slie thought that liotany
Bay was a blessed reformatory, instead of the whole-
sale Newgate which it in reality was. "But it
would appear," she adds, "so strange a measure to
go there from choice, that I believe it would be
necessary to commit some peccadillo as an apology
to my relations for going at all." Her desire for
this trip would probably have been fulfilled, as her
husband shared in the wish, and intended on his
return to England to have taken her home by that
very circuitous route; but the peace of 1S02 com-
pelled Mr. Barnard to remain behind at the Cape,
to settle colonial business with the Dutch, while
Lady Anne went to England to procure a situation
for her husband under government, on his return —
an application, however, which was unsuccessful.

By the death of Mr. Barnard at the Cape in 1807,
Lady Anne was left a childless widow, and she
again took up her residence with her sister Margaret,
in Berkeley Square, London, until the latter was
married for the second time in 1812 to .Sir James
Burgess. After this period she continued her
honoured course in London, beloved by its choicest
society, and maintaining at the age of threescore and
ten, aiul even beyond it, that clieerfulness and con-
versational power which had made her througli her
whole lile the chann of her numerous acquaintances.
.\n amusing proof of this one day occurred when she
was entertaining a party of her friends at dinner.
Some difficulty had occurred in the kitchen arrange-
ments, on which account an old servant, who knew
tile iacxiiaustihie mental resources of her mistress,
glided to her behind her chair, and whispered in her
ear, ".My lady, you must tell another story— tlie
second course won't lie ready for five minutes." Of
the strong and abiding friendsliips she created in the
hearts of others, a jiroof was given in that of the
Prince of Wales (afterwards Cieorge IV.), who, on
the death of her hushaml, wrote to her a letter of
sympatliy, of itself sufficient to redeem his character
from the prevailing charge of selfishness. In his last
illness he also sent fir her. and after speaking to her
aUectionately, he said, "Sister. Anne (the title with

which he usually addressed her), I wished to see you,
to tell you that I love you, and wish you to accept
this golden chain for my sake — I may never see you
again." The chief literary occupation of her old
age was in writing reminiscences of the Lindsays, to
add to the family history— a task which her father,
Earl James, had commenced, and which he wished
his children to continue. "It was a maxim of my
father's," she said, "that the person who neglects to
leave some trace of his mind behind him, according
to his capacity, fails not only in his duty to society,
but in gratitude to the Author of his being, and mav
be said to have existed in vain. 'Ever)- man,' said
he, 'has felt or thought, invented or observed: alittle
of that genius which we receive fr(;m nature, or a
little of that experience which we buy in our walk
through life, if becjueathed to the community, would
ultimately become a collection to do honour to the
family where such records were preserved.'" I lence
the large and valuable additions whicli she made
to the Lizvs of the Lindsays, and tiie cojjious re-
miniscences of a long life which constitute the ])rinci-
pal charm of that interesting work. Although she
must have written much poetry as well as prose,
her characteristic shyness where her verses were in
question have made her productions of tliis kind
unknown — with the exception oi Aitld Robin Gray,
which of itself is sufficient to estal^lish her lasting
fame as a poetess. Lady Anne Barnard died on
May 6th, 1825, in the seventy-fourth year of her age.

BARTON, Andrew, High Admiral of Scotland.
The fifteenth century was the great era of mari-
time adventure and discover)'; and in these it might
have been expected that Scc)tland would have taken
her full share. The troubled state of the countn,-,
however, and the poverty of its sovereigns, prevented
the realization of such a hoi^e. There was no royal
navy, and such ships as were to be found in the
.Scottish service were merchant vessels, and the
]iroperty of private individuals. Still, there was no
lack of stout hardy sailors and skilful commanders;
and although the poverty of .Scotland was unal)le to
funiish means for remote and uncertain voyages of
discovery, the same cause made them eager to enjoy
the advantages of trafiic with those countries that
were already known. Another cause was the long
peace with England during the reign of Henry \TI.,
so that those daring spirits who could no longer find
occupation in fight or foray by land, were fain tri
have recourse to the dangers of another element.
The merchant, also, who embarked with his own
cargo, was obliged to know something more than
tlie gainful craft of a mere trarler. He was captain
as well as proiirietor, and had to add the science of
navigation and the art of warfare on sea, to that C'f
skilful Ijargaining on shore, and tluis, in every variety
of ways, his intellectual powers were tried and per-
fected. This was an occuj^aticm well fitted tu tl.c
.Scottish mind, in which it consequently Ijccanie >'i
pre-eminent, tiiat during the reigns of James HI.
and James I\'., it scLined a doiiblfid ijuestii !i
whether Scotland or I-'.ngland was to b^-ar t!:c
"meteor flag" of the i.-.land; and of the merclia:;:
captains of this period, the most di>tingr.i>!K-d v.tr.-
Sir Andrew Wood, of Largo; Sir Alexanilcr Mritb.ii-
son; William Merrimonth. of l.ciih, wlm, fr h:-
naval skill, was called the "kir.g rt tI.e.-L.i; r.;. 1
the Bartons.

This ]5arton family, wliich for two giTura'.;. :>
produced naval commander,-- of gixra ci.Ii: );■>'. t.r-i
appeared in .'-^ct.ittisli lii-t.^ry in I476. Tli;- ^'.."iS in
consequence of Joh.n liaitin. the t.-.thcr ■ f .Vmirc-.v,
liaving been idundereii, and, it I;.";; Ki.n aodc^:.

ANDREW BARTON.

murdered, by the Portuguese, who at that period
were all-prevalent upon the ocean. The unfortunate
mariner, however, had three sons, the eldest of
whom was Andrew, all brought up from boyhood in
his own profession, and not likely to allow their
father's death to pass unquestioned. Andrew accord-
ingly instituted a trial in Flanders, where the murder
was perpetrated, and obtained a verdict in his favour;
but the Portuguese refusing to pay the awarded
penalty, the Bartons applied to their own sovereign
for redress. James accordingly sent a herald to tlie
King of Portugal; but this application having also
been in vain, he granted to the Bartons letters of
reprisal, by which they were allowed to indemnify
themselves by the strong hand upon the ships of
the Portuguese. And such a commission was not
alloweil to lie idle. The Bartons immediately tlirew
themselves into the track of the richly-laden carracks
and argosies of Portugal in their homeward way
from Inilia and South America; and sucli was tlieir
success, that they not only soon indemnified them-
selves for their losses, but won a high reputation
for naval skill and valour. Among the rich Indian
spoil that was brought home on this occasion, were
several Hindoo and negro captives, whose ebony
colour and strange features astounded, and also
alarmed, the simple people of Scotland. James IV.
turned these singular visitants to account, Ijy making
them pLiy the part of Ethiopian queens and African
sorcerers in tlie masques and pageants of his court.
This was in itself a trifle, but it gave a high idea of
the growing naval importance of Scotland, when it
could produce such spectacles as even England, with
all its su]ierior wealth, power, and refinement, was
unable to furnish.

It was not merely in such expeditions which had
personal profit or revenge for their object that the
Bartons were exclusively employed; for they were in
the service of a master (James IV.) who was an
enthusiast in naval affairs, and who more tiian all his
predecessors understood tlie necessity of a fleet as
the right arm of a British sovereign. Tliis was
especially the case in his attempts to subjugate the
Scottish isles, that for centuries had persisted in re-
bellion under independent kinglings of their own,
and in every national difficulty had been wont to
invade the mainland, and sweep the adjacent dis-
tricts with fire and sword. For the purpose of re-
ducing them to complete obedience, James not only
led against them an army in person, but employed
John Barton, one of the tliree brothers, to conduct a
fleet, and invade them by sea. The use of ships in
such a kind of warfare was soon apparent: the
islanders retreated from the royal army, as hereto-
fore, in their galleys, and took refuge among their
iron-b(jund coa->ts, but found these no longer ])Iaces
of hafety when their fastnesses were assailed from the
sea, and their strong castles bonil)arded. Tiie cliiefs,
therefore, yielded themselves to the royal authority,
and from thenceforth lived in most unwonted sub-
mission. While thus the .Scottish flag waved over
those islands tiiat had hitherto Ijeen tiie strongliolds
of rebellion, another of the Bartons was employed
to vindicate its dignity abroad and among foreigners.
Tliis was Andrew, who f>r some time had held with
liis brothers the chief direction of maritime affairs in
Scotland, and been employed in the formation of a
royal navy, as well as in cruises .agaiuNt the rich
carracks of Portugal. Tiie Hollanders, in the true
sjurit of piracy by which the maritime communities
of ICurope were at tliis time inspired, had attacked
a small fleet of Scottish merchant vessels, and not
only plundered them, but murdered the crews, and
thrown their bodies into the sea. This outrage, from

a people with whom the Scots were at peace, was
not to be tolerated, and Andrew Barton was sent
with a squadron to chastise the offenders. And this
he did with a merciless severity that reminds us of
the "Douglas Larder." He captured many of the
l^iratical ships, and not only put their crews to death,
Init barrelled their heads in the empty casks which
he found in the vessels, and sent them home to his
sovereign, to prove how well he had discharged his
duty.

The time had now arrived, however, when
Andrew Barton, after having made so many suc-
cessful cruises, was to fall ujwn the deck where he
had so often stood a conqueror. His death,
also, strangely enough, was mainly owing to the
tortuous intrigues of a pontiff, about whom, it is
probable, he had heard little, and cared still less.
Julius II. having formed designs of political self-
aggrandizement which a war between h'rance and
England would have prevented, was anxious to find
the latter sufficient occupation at home, with its
turbulent neighbours, the Scots. Portuguese en-
voys, therefore, at the English court represented to
Henry VIII. the whole family of the Bartons as
pirates, who indiscriminately plundered the ships of
every country; and they charged Andrew, in par-
ticular, with these offences, and represented how
desiral)le it would be if the English seas could be
rid of his presence. Henry listened to these sugges-
tions, and, with his wonted impetuosity, assented to
their fulfilment, although a war with Scotland was
at that time the least desirable event that could have
befallen him. It has also been alleged by English
writers, that Andrew Barton, in his war against the
Portuguese, had not been over-scrupulous in con-
fining himself to his letters of reprisal, but had also
over-hauled and pillaged English vessels, under the
pretext that they had Portuguese goods on board.
Such, at least, was generally believed in England;
and the Earl of Surrey, to whom the naval affairs of
the kingdom chiefly belonged, is declared to have
sworn tliat the narrow seas should no longer be thus
infested, while his estate could furnish a ship or his
family a son to command it.

The threat of Surrey was not an idle one. He
fitted out two men-of-war, one of them the largest
in the English navy, and sent them under the com-
mand of his sons, Eord Thomas Howard, and Sir
Edward Howard, afterwards lord higli-adniiral, to
find and encounter the terrible Scottish seaman.
They had not long to seek, for in the Downs they
were apprized of his neighloourhood by the cajitain
of a merchant vessel which he had jilundered on the
preceding day. Barton had just returned from a
cruise against the Portuguese, with two ships, one
the /,/();/, which himself commanded, and the otlier
a small armed junnace. ^^'hen the Howards a]i-
proached, they hoisted no war signal, but merely
])ut up a willow-wand fin their masts, as if tliey
were peaceful traders; but when Andrew Barton
a]i])roaclied, they hoisted their national flag, and
firetl a broadside into his vessel. On finding that
he had enemies to deal with, although they were
of superior force, he fearlessly advanced to the
encounter. Distinguished by his rich dress, his
splendid armour of ])roof, and the gold chain around
his neck, to which was attached a \\'histle of tlie
same metal, the emblem of his office as high admiral
of Scotland, he took his stand ujion the highest jjart
of the deck, and encouraged his men to fight iiravely.
The battle commenced, and continued on both sides
with the utmost desperation. One manceuvre of
.Scottish naval warfare which Barton used, was
derived from an old Roman practice used against

ANDREW BARTON JAMES BASSANTIN.

97

the Carthaginians, although he had, perhaps, never
read their history; this was, to drop large weights
or beams from the yard-arms of his vessel into that
of the enemy, and thus sink it while the two ships
were locked together; but, to accomplish this feat,
it was necessary for a man to go aloft to let the
weight fall. The English commander, apprised of
this, had appointed the best archer of his crew to
keep watch upon the movement, and shoot every
man who attempted to go aloft for the purpose.
The archer had already brought down two Scottish
seamen who had successively vent-.ired to ascend,
when Andrew Barton, seeing the clanger, resolved
to make the attempt himself. As he ascended the
mast for this purpose. Lord Howard cried to his
archer, "Shoot, villain, and shoot tnie, on peril of
thy life." "An' I were to die for it," replied the
man despondingly, "I have but two arrows left."
These, however, he used with his utmost strength
and skill. The first shaft bounded from Barton's
coat of proof, but the second entered the crevice of
his armour, as he stretched up his hand in the act of
climbing the mast, and inflicted a mortal wound
through the arm-pit. He descended as if unhurt,
and exclaimed, "Fight on, my merry men; 1 am
but slightly wounded, and will rest me awhile, but
will soon join you again; in the meantime, stand
you fast by the cross of Saint Andrew!" He then
blew his whistle during the combat, to encourage
his followers, and continued to sound it as long as
life remained. After his death the conflict termi-
nated in the capture of the Lion, and also the pinnace,
called the Jenny Pinuen, which were brought in
triumph into the Thames. The Lion was after\vards
adopted into the English navy, and was the second
largest ship in the service, the Great Henry, the
first vessel which the English had expressly con-
structed for war, being the largest.

Such was the end of Andrew Barton, a bright
name in the early naval history of Scotland. While
his death was felt as a great national calamity, it was
particularly affecting to James IV., whose nautical
studies he had directed, and whose infant navy he
had made so distinguished among the European
maritime powers. Rothesay herald was instantly
despatched to London, to complain of this breacii
of peace, and demand redress; but to this appeal
Henry VTH. arrogantly replied, that Barton was a
pirate, and that the fate of pirates ought never to be
a subject of contention between princes. Here,
however, the matter was not to rest. Robert
Barton, one of Andrew's brothers, was immediately
furnished with letters of reprisal against the English;
and thus commissioned, he swept the narrow seas
so effectually, that he soon returned to Leith with
thirteen English prizes. War by sea between
England and Scotland was soon followed by war by
land, and in the letter of remonstrance and defiance
to Henry VTH., with which James preceded the
invasion of England, the unjust slaughter of Andrew
Barton, and the ca()ture of his ships, were stated
among the principal grievances for which redress
was tiuis soiiglit. Even when battle was at hand,
also. Lord Thomas Howard sent a message to the
Scottish king, !)oasting of his share in the death of
Barton, whom he persisted in calling a jMrate, and
adding, tliat he wxs ready to justify the deed in the
vanguard, where his command lay, and where he
meant to show as little mercy as he expected to
receive. An 1 then succeeded the battle of Flodden,
in wliijh fiaies and t e l>j>t of tlie Scottish nobility
fell; and after Flodden. a loss occurred which Barton
would raliier have died than witnessed. This was
the utter extinction of liie Scotti.^ii fleet, wlucli was

VOL. I.

allowed to lie rotting in the harbours of France, or
to be trucked away in inglorious sale, like common
firewood. From that period, Scotland so com-
pletely ceased to be a naval power, that even at the
time of the union she not only had no war vessels
whatever, but scarcely any merchant ships — the few
that lay in her ports being chiefly the property of the
traders of Holland; — and full three centuries have to
elapse before we find another distinguished Scottish
seaman in the naval history of Great Britain.

BASSANTIN, or BASSANTOUN, James, as-
tronomer and mathematician, was the son of the
laird of Bassintin, in Berwickshire, and probably
bom in the early part of the sixteenth century.
Being sent to study at the university of Glasgow, he
applied himself almost exclusively to mathematics,
to the neglect of languages and philosophy, which
were then the most common study. In order to
prosecute mathematics more effectually than it was
possible to do in his own country, he went abroad,
and travelled through the Netherlands, Switzerland,
Italy, and Germany; fixing himself at last in France,
where for a considerable time he taught his favourite
science with high reputation in the university of
Paris. In that age, the study of astronomy was
inseparable from astrology, and Bassantin became
a celebrated proficient in this pretended science,
which was then highly cultivated in France, insomuch
that it entered more or less into almost all public
affairs, and nealy every court in Europe had its
astrologer. Bassantin, besides his attainments in
astrology, understood the laws of the heavens to an
extent which excited the wonder of the age —
especially when it was considered that he had
scarcely any knowledge of the Greek or Latin
languages, in which all that was formerly known of
this science had been embodied. But, as may be
easily conceived, astronomy was as yet a most im-
perfect science; the Copemican system, which forms
the groundwork of modern astronomy, was not yet
discovered or acknowledged; and all that was really
known had in time become so inextricably associated
with the dreams of astrology, as to be entitled to
little respect. Bassantin returned to his native
country in 1562, and in passing through England
met with Sir Robert Melville of Mordecaimy, who
was then engaged in a diplomatic mission from Mary
to Elizabeth, for the puq^ose of bringing about a
meeting between the two queens. A curious account
of this rencontre is preser\-ed by Sir James Melville
in his memoirs, and, as it is highly illustrative of the
character and pretensions of Bassantin, we shall lay
it before the reader. "Ane Bassantin, a Scottis
man, that had been travelit, and was leamit in hich
scyences, cam to him [Sir Robert Melville] and said,
'Gud gentilman, 1 hear sa gud rc]3ort of you that I
love you hartly, and therefore canot forbear to shaw
you, how all your upricht dealing and your hoiic>t
travell will be in vain, where ye believe to ohlein a
weall for our quen at the Quen of Englandis handi>.
Vou bot tyne your tymc; for, first, they will never
meit togither, and next, there will nevir be bot
discembling and secret hattrent for a whyle. and at
length captivity and utter wrak for our cpien by
England.' My brother's answer again was, that lie
lyked not to heir of sic dcviiisch newc-s, nur yet waM
he credit them in any sort, as false, ungodly, and
unlawfull for Christians to m\;<.\\c them with.
Bassantin answered again, 'Gud Mcster Mclvill, tr.k
not that hard opinion of me; I am a Christian of
your religion, and fears God, and purjioses never to
cast myself in any of the unLawful artis that ye mean
of, bot sa far as Melanthon, wlia was a godiy

98

JOHN BASSOL.

theologue, has declared and written anent the naturall
scyences, that are lawfull and daily red in dyvers
Christian 'universities; in the quhilkis, as in all othir
artis, God geves to some less, to some mair and
clearer knawledge than till others; be the quhilk
knawledge I have also that at length, that the king-
dom of England sail of rycht fall to the crown of
Scotland, and that ther are some born at this instant
that sail bruik lands and heritages in England. Bot
alace it will cost many their lyves, and many bludy
l)attailes wilbe fouchten first, or [ere] it tak a sattled
effect; and be my knawledge,' said he, 'the Spani-
artis will be helpers, and will tak a part to them-
selves for ther labours, quhilk they wilbe laith to
leve again.'" If the report of this conference be
quite faithful, we must certainly do Bassantin the
justice to say, that the most material part of his
prophecy came to pass; though it might be easy for
him to see that, as the sovereign of Scotland was
heiress-presumptive to the crown of England, she or
her heirs had a near prospect of succeeding. How
Bassantin spent his time in Scotland does not appear;
but, as a good Protestant, he became a warm sup-
porter of the Earl of Murray, then struggling for the
ascendency. He died in 1568. His works are —
I. A Sys/em 0/ Astronomy, published for the third
time in 1593, by John Tornoesius. 2. A Treatise
of the Astrolabe, published at Lyons in 1555, and
reprinted at Paris in 1 61 7. 3. A Pamphlet on the
Calculation 0/ Nativities. 4. A Treatise on Arith-
metic. 5. Aliisic on the Principles of the Platonists.
6. On Mathematics in General. It is understood
that, in the composition of these works, he required
considerable literary assistance, being only skilled in
his own language, which was never then made the
vehicle of scientific discussion.

BASSOL, John, a distinguished disciple of the
famous Duns Scotus, is stated by Mackenzie to have
been born in the reign of Alexander III. He studied
under Duns at Oxford, and with him, in 1304, re-
moved to Paris, where he resided some time in the
university, and in 13 13 entered the order of the
Minorites. After this he was sent by the general of
his order to Rheims, where he applied himself to the
study of medicine, and taught philosophy for seven
or eight years. In 1322 he removed to Mechlin
in Brabant, and after teaching theology in that city
for five and twenty years, died in 1347.

Bassol's only work was one entitled Commentaria
sen Lectur<v in Quatiior Libros Sententiarum, to
which were attached some miscellaneous papers on
philosophy and medicine. The book was published
in folio at Paris, in 1 51 7. Bassol was known by the
title Doctor Ordinatissimns, or tlie Most Methodical
Doctor, on account of the clear and accurate method
in which he lectured and composed. The fashion
of giving such titles to the great masters of the
schools was then in its prime. Thus, Duns Scotus
himself was styled Doctor .Subtilis, or the Subtle
Doctor. St. Francis of Assis was called the Seraphic
Doctor; Alexander Hales, the Irrefra;^able Doctor;
Thomas Aquinas, the An;^elical Doctor; Hendricus
Bonicollius, the .Solemn Doctor; Richard Middleton,
the Solid Doctor; Francis Mayron, the Acute Doctor;
Durandus a S. Porliano, the Most Resolute Doctor;
Thomas Bredwardin, the Profound Doctor; Joannes
Ruysbrokius, the Divine Doctor, and so forth; the
title being in every case f()un<led upon some extrava-
gant conception of the merit uf ilie jiarticular in-
dividual, adopted by his contem])(jraries and disciples.
In this extraordinary class of literati John Bassol, as
implied by his soubriquet, shines conspicuous for
order and method; yet v/e are told that his works

contain most of the faults which are generally laid to
the charge of the schoolmen. The chief of these is
an irrational devotion to the philosophy of Aristotle,
as expounded by Thomas Aquinas. In the early
ages of modern philosophy, this most splendid exer-
tion of the human mind was believed to be irrecon-
cilable with the Christian doctrines; and at the very
time when the Angelical Doctor wrote his commen-
tary, it stood prohibited by a decree of Pope Gregory
IX. The illustrious Thomas not only restored Aris-
totle to favour, but inspired his followers with an
admiration of his precepts, which, as already men-
tioned, was not rational. Not less was their admira-
tion of the "angelical" commentator, to whom it
was long the fashion among them to offer an incense
little short of blasphemy. A commentator upon an
original work of Thomas Aquinas endeavours, in a
prefatory discourse, to prove, in so many chapters,
that he wrote his books not without the special
infusion of the Spirit of God Almighty; that, in
writing them, he received many things by revelation ;
and that Christ had given anticipatory testimony
to his writings. By way of bringing the works
of St. Thomas into direct comparison with the Holy
Scriptures, the same writer remarks, "that, as in
the first general councils of the church, it was common
to have the Bible unfolded upon the altar, so, in the
last general council (that of Trent), St. Thomas'
Simi was placed beside the Bible, as an inferior rule
of Christian doctrine." Peter Labbe, a learned
Jesuit, with scarcely less daring flattery, styles St.
Thomas an angel, and says that, as he learned many
things from the angels, so he taught the angels some
things; that St. Thomas had said what St. Paul was
not permitted to utter; and that he speaks of God as
if he had "seen him, and of Christ as if he had been
his voice. One might almost suppose that these
learned gentlemen, disregarding the sentiment after-
wards embodied by Gray, that flattery soothes not
the cold ear of death, endeavoured by their praises
to make interest with the "angelical" shade, not
doubting that he was able to obtain for them a larger
share of paradise than they could otherwise hope for.
In the words of the author of the Refections on
Learnittg, "the sainted Thomas, if capable of hear-
ing these inordinate flatteries, must have blushed to
receive them."

Bassol was also characterized, in common with all
the rest of the schoolmen, by a ridiculous nicety in
starting questions and objections. Overlooking the
great moral aim of what they were expounding, he
and his fellows lost themselves in minute and subtle
inquiries after physical exactness, started at every
straw which lay upon their path, and measured the
powers of the mind by grains and scruples. It must
be acknowledged, in favour of this singular class of
men, that they improved natural reason to a great
height, and that much of what is most admired in
modern philoso]ihy is only liorrowed from them. At
the same time, their curiosity in raising and prosecut-
ing frivolous objections to the Christian system is to
be regretted as the source of much scejiticism and
irreligion. To many of their arguments, ridicule
only is due; and it would perhaps be impossible for
the gravest to restrain a smile at the iUustrissimo
mentioned by Cardan, one of whose arguments \\-as
declared to be enough to puzzle all jiosterily, and
who himself wept in his old age because he had
become unable U> understand his own bo(;ks.

The works of Bassol have Ijcen long forgotten,
like those of his brethren; but it is not too nuich to
say regarding this great man of a former day, that
the same ])(jwers of mind which he s]ient upon the
endless intricacies of the school philosophy, would

ANDREW BAXTER JAMES BAYNE.

99

certainly, in another age and sphere, have tended to
the permanent advantage of his fellow-creatures.
He was so much admired by his illustrious preceptor,
that that great man used to say, "If only Joannes
Bassiolis be present, 1 have a sufficient auditory."

BAXTER, Andrf.w, an ingenious moral and
natural piiilosopher, was the son of a merchant in
Old Aberdeen, and of Mrs. Elizabeth Eraser, a lady
connected with some of the considerable families of
that name in the north of Scotland. He was born
at Old Aberdeen, in 1686 or 1687, and educated at
the King's College, in his native city. His employ-
ment in early life was that of a preceptor to young
gentlemen; and among others of his pupils were
Lord Gray, Lord Blantyre, and Mr. Hay of Dnim-
melzier. In 1723, while resident at Dunse Castle,
as preceptor to the last-mentioned gentleman, he is
known, from letters which passed between him and
Henry Home, afterwards Lord Kaimes, to have
been deeply engaged in both physical and meta-
physical disquisitions. As Mr. Home's paternal
seat of Kaimes was situated within a few miles of
Dunse Castle, the similarity of their pursuits appears
to have brought them into an intimate friendship and
correspondence. This, however, was soon after-
wards broken off. Mr. Home, who was a mere
novice in physics, contended with Mr. Baxter that
motion was necessarily the result of a succession of
causes. The latter endeavoured, at first with much
patience and good temper, to point out the error of
this argument; but, teased at length with what he
conceived to be sophistry purposely employed by his
antagonist to show his ingenuity in throwing doubts
on principles to which he himself annexed the
greatest importance, and on which he had founded
what he believed to be a demonstration of those
doctrines most material to the happiness of mankind,
he finally interrupted the correspondence, saying,
"I shall return you all your letters; mine, if not
already destroyed, you may likewise return; we shall
burn them and our philosophical heats together."

About this time, Mr. Baxter married Alice Mabane,
daughter of a respectable clerg\'man in Berwickshire.
A few years afterwards he published his great work,
entitled Afi Inquiry into the Nature of the Human
Soul, wherein its Immateriality is evinced from the
Principles of Reaso7i and Philosophy. This work
was originally without date; but a second edition
appeared in 1737, and a third in 1745. It has been
characterized in the highest terms of paneg}Tic by
Bishop Warburton. "He who would see," says
this eminent prelate, "the justest and precisest
notions of God and the soul, may read this book;
one of the most finished of the kind, in my humble
opinion, that the present times, greatly advanced in
true philosophy, have produced." The object of the
treatise is to prove the immateriality, and conse-
quently the immortality, of the soul, from the acknow-
ledged principle of the vis inertiie of matter. His
argument, according to the learned Lord Wood-
houselcc, is as follows: "There is a resistance to any
change of its j^resent state, either of rest or motion,
essential to matter, which is inconsistent with its
p(isses>ing any active power. Those, therefore,
which have been called the natural powers of matter,
as gravity, attraction, elasticity, repulsion, are not
]iowers implanted in matter, or jiossible to be made
inherent in it, but are impulses or forces impressetl
upon it ai> extra. The consequence of the want of
active power in matter is, that all those eflects com-
monly ascribed to its active jxnvers must be produced
upon it by an immaterial bt^'ing. Hence we discover
the necessity for the agency uf a constant and universal

Providence in the material world, who is GoD; and
hence we must admit the necessity of an immaterial
mover in all spontaneous motions, which is the soul;
for that which can arbitrarily effect a change in the
present state of matter, cannot be matter itself, which
resists all change of its present state: and since this
change is effected by willing, that thing which wills
in us is not matter, but an immaterial substance. From
these fundamental propositions, the author deduces,
as consequences, the necessary immortality of the
soul, as being a simple uncompounded substance,
and thence incapable of decay, and its capacity of
existing, and being conscious, when separated from
the body." In 1741, leaving his family in Berwick,
he went abroad with his pupil Mr. Hay, and resided
for several years at Utrecht. In the course of various
excursions which he made through Holland, France,
and Germany, he was generally well received by the
literati. He returned to Scotland in 1747, and, till
his death, in 1750, resided constantly at Whittingham,
in East Lothian, a seat of his pupil Mr. Hay. His
latter works were Matho, sive Cosmotheoria puerilis,
Dialogits, a piece designed for the use of his pupil ;
and An Appendix to his Inquiry into the Nature of
the Human Soul, wherein he endeavoured to remove
some difficulties which had been started against his
notions of the vis inertia of matter by Maclaurin, in
his Account of Sir Isaac A^ewton^s Philosophical Dis-
coveries. In 1779 the Rev. Dr. Duncan of South
Warnborough published The Evidence of Reason in
proof of the Immortality of the Soul, independent on
the more abstruse inquiry into the nature of matter
and spirit — collected from the MSS. of the late Mr.
Baxter.

The learning and abilities of Mr. Baxter are
sufficiently displayed in his writings, which, however,
were of more note in the literary world during his
own time than now. He was very studious, and
sometimes sat up whole nights reading and writing.
His temper was cheerful; he was a friend to innocent
merriment, and of a disposition truly benevolent.
In conversation he was modest, and not apt to make
much show of the extensive knowledge he possessed.
In the discharge of the several social and relative
duties of life, his conduct was exemplar)-. He had
the most reverential sentiments of the Deity, of
whose presence and immediate support he had
always a strong impression upon his mind. He paid
a strict attention to economy, though he dressed
elegantly, and was not parsimonious in his other
expenses. It is known also that there were several
occasions on which he acted with remarkable disin-
terestedness; and so far was he from courting prefer-
ment, that he repeatedly declined offers of that kind
that were made to him, on the condition of his taking
orders in the Church of England. The French.
German, and Dutch languages were spoken by him
with much ease, and the Italian tolerably; and he
read and wrote them all, together with the Spanish.
His friends and correspondents were numerous and
respectable; among them are particularly mentionetl
Mr. I'ointz, preceptor to the Duke of Cumberland,
and Bishop ^Varburton.

BAYTJE, OR BAINE. Jamk?, A.M., a divine <.f
some note, was tlie son of the Kcv. Mr. ]''r.\nc.
minister of Bonhill in Dumbartonshire, and ^*T^s
bom in 1710. His education, coninu-nccd at the
]iarish school, was completed at the university d
Glasgow, and in due time he became a licen>ed
preacher of the Established Chr.reh nf .<c<'i!ai!.!.
In consequence of the respectability oi his fatlier.
and his own talents as a ] 'readier, he w.ts ]>resenled
l)v the Duke of MoiUrusc to the clnirch ot" Killeam,

JAMES BAYNE DAVID BEATOX.

the parish adjoining that in which his father had
long ministered the gospel, and memorable as the
birthplace of Buchanan. In this sequestered and
tranquil scene he spent many years, which he often
referred to in after-life as the happiest he had ever
known. He here married Miss Potter, daughter
of Dr. Michael Potter, professor of divinity in the
Glasgow university, by whom he had a large family.
His son, the Rev. James Bayne, was licensed in
the Scottish Establishment, but afterwards received
episcopal ordination, and died in the exercise of that
profession of faith at Alloa.

The reputation of Mr. Bayne as a preacher soon
travelled far beyond the rural scene to which his
ministrations were confined. His people, in allusion
to the musical sweetness of his voice, honoured him
with the poetical epithet of "the swan of the west."
He was appointed to a collegiate charge in the High
Church of Paisley, where his partner in duty was
the celebrated Mr. Wotherspoon, afterwards presi-
dent of the Nassau Hall College, Princetown, New
Jersey. The two colleagues, however, did not co-
operate harmoniously, although both enjoyed a high
degree of popularity. Mr. Bayne displayed great
public spirit during his connection with the Estab-
lished Church, defending her spiritual liberties and
independence in the church courts, and offering a
determined opposition to the policy of the moderate
or ruling party. The deposition of Mr. Thomas
Gillespie of Camock, the founder of the Relief
church, made a powerful impression on his mind,
and undoubtedly had a strong influence in inducing
him to resign his pastoral charge in Paisley. But
the immediate cause of that resolution was a keen
dispute which took place in the kirk-session of his
parish, respecting the appointment of a session-clerk.
The session contested the right of appointment with
the town-council; the whole community took an in-
terest in the dispute; and the case came at last to be
litigated in the court of session, which decided in
favour of the town-council. Unhappily, Mr. Bayne
and his colleague took opposite sides in this petty
contest, and a painful misunderstanding was produced
betwixt them, followed by consequences probably
affecting the future destinies of both. Mr. Bayne
refers to these differences in his letter of resignation,
addressed to the Presbytery, dated loth February,
1766:— "They (the Presbytery) know not how far
I am advanced in life, who see not that a house of
worship, so very large as the High Church, and
commonly so crowded too, must be very unequal to
my strength; and this burden was made more heavy
by denying me a session to assist me in the common
concerns of the parish, which I certainly had a title
to. But the load became quite intolerable, when,
by a late unhappy process, the just and natural right
of the common session was wrested from us, which
drove away from acting in it twelve men of excellent
character." .Mr. Bayne joined the Relief church,
then in its infancy, having, even whilst in the Ivstab-
lishment, held ministerial communion with Mr.
Simpson, minister of Bellshill congregation, the first
Relief church in the west of Scotland. In his letter
of resignation already quoted, Mr. Bayne assured
his former brethren that the change of his condition,
and the charge he had accepteil, would make no
change in his creed, nor in his principles (jf Chris-
tian and ministerial communion — "Nay (he adds),
none in my cordial regard to the constitution and
interests of the Church of Scotland, which I solemnly
engaged to support some more than thirty years ago,
and hope to do so while I live. At the same time
I abhor persecution in every form, and that abuse
of church power of late, which to me appears incon-

sistent with humanity, with the civil interests of the
nation, and destructive of the ends of our office as
ministers of Christ." On the 24th December, Mr.
Bayne accepted a call to become minister of the
College Street Relief Church, Edinburgh, and his
induction took place on the 13th February, 1766,
three days after his resignation of his charge in
Paisley. As his demission fell to be adjudicated
upon by the General Assembly, in May of that year,
his name remained for the present upon the roll of
the Establishment, and so little did he yet consider
himself separated from the communion of that church,
that when the half-yearly sacrament of the Lord's
supper came round in Edinburgh, soon after his
settlement, after preaching in his own church in the
forenoon, he went over in the afternoon, at the head
of his congregation, to the New Greyfriars' Church,
and joined in the ordinance with the congregation
of the Rev. Dr. Erskine. At the Assembly in May,
Mr. Bayne, in obedience to a citation, appeared at
the bar, and was declared to be no longer a minister
of the Church of Scotland, and all clergymen of that
body were prohibited from holding ministerial com-
munion with him. Mr. Bayne defended the course
he had taken in a review of the proceedings of the
Assembly,' entitled Memoirs of Modern Church Ke-
formation, or tht History of the General Assembly,
1 766, and occasional reflections upon the proceedings
of said Assembly; with a brief account and vindication
of the Presbytery of Relief by James Bayne, A.M.,
minister of the gospel at Edinburgh. He denounces,
with indignant severity, the injustice of his having
been condemned by the Assembly without a libel,
merely for having accepted a charge in another
church, "in which (says he), I presumed, they could
find nothing criminal; for often had ministers resigned
their charge upon different accounts, and justifiable;
nay, some have given it up for the more entertaining
and elegant employ of the stage, who were not called
in question or found delinquents." This was a pal-
pable hit at Home, the author of Douglas, who sat
in the Assembly as a ruling elder, to aid Dr. Robert-
son in punishing Bayne.

After a ministry of sixty years, Mr. Bayne died
at Edinburgh, on the 17th January, 1790, in his
eightieth year. He was twenty-four years minister
of the College Street Relief congregation, Edinburgh.
His popularity as a preacher, his talents for ecclesi-
astical affairs, his acquirements as a scholar and a
theologian, and his sound judgment and weight of
character, gave him great influence; and it was
mainly to his large and enlightened views that the
Relief church was indebted for the position to which
it attained, even during his lifetime, as well as for
retaining, till it was finally merged in the United
Presbyterian Church, the catholic constitution on
which it had been founded by Gillespie and Boston.
Mr. Bayne was an uncompromising ojiponent of
whatever he considered to be a violation of public
morality. In 1770 he published a discourse, entitled
The Theatre Licentious and Pen>ertcd, administering
a stem rebuke to Mr. Samuel Foote for his Minor,
a drama in which the characters of Whiteficld and
other zealous ministers were held up to jirofane
ridicule. The dramatist considered it necessary to
reply to Mr. Bayne's strictures, in an Apology for
the Minor, in a letter to the Rev. Mr. Bayne, rest-
ing his defence upon the plea that he only satirized
the vices and follies of religious pretenders. A
volume of Mr. Bayne's discourses was published in
1778.

BEATON, OR BEATOUN, (Cardinai.) Davip,
who held the rectory of Campsie, the abbacy of

DAVID BEATON.

Aberbrothick, the bishopric of Mirepoix in France,
the cardinalship of St. Stephen in Monte Ccelio,
and the chancellorship of Scotland, and who was
the chief of the Roman Catholic party in Scotland
in the earlier age of the Reformation, was descended
from an ancient family in Fife, possessed of the
barony of Halfour, and was born in the year 1494.
He was educated at the college of St. Andrews,
where he completed his courses of polite literature
and philosophy, but was sent afterwards to the uni-
versity of Paris, where he studied divinity for several
years. Entering into holy orders, he had the rectory
of Campsieand the abbacy of Aberbrothick l)estowed
upon him by his uncle James Beaton, Archbishop
of .St. Andrews, who retained one-half of the rents
of the abbacy to his own use. Possessing good
abilities and a lively fancy, David Beaton became a
great favourite with James V., who in 1519 sent
him as his ambassador to the court of France.
He returned to Scotland in 1525, and, still growing in
the king's favour, was in 1528 made lord privy-seal.

In the year 1533 he was again sent on a mission
to the French court. Beaton on this occasion was
charged to refute certain calumnies which it was
supposed the English had circulated against his
countrymen, to study the preservation of the ancient
league between the two nations, and to conclude a
treaty of marriage between James and Magdalene,
the daughter of Francis I. If unsuccessful in any
of these points, he was to repair to Flanders, for the
purpose of forming an alliance with the emperor.
In every part of his embassy, Beaton seems to have
succeeded, the marriage excepted, which was delayed
on account of the declining health of Magdalene.
I low long Beaton remained at the French court at
this time has not been ascertained; but it is certain
that he was exceedingly agreeable to Francis, who,
perceiving his great abilities, and aware of the in-
fluence he possessed over the mind of the Scottish
king, used every expedient to attach him to the in-
terests of France.

In 1536, finding a second embassy also unsuccess-
ful. King James set sail for France, and proceeded
to the court, where he was most cordially welcomed;
and his suit being agreeable to Magdalene herself,
Francis consented to their union, which was cele-
brated on the 1st of January, 1537. i)n the 28th
of May following, the royal pair landed in Scotland,
being conveyed by a French fleet. Magdalene was
received by the Scots with the utmost cordiality;
but she was already far gone in a decline, and died
on the 7th of July following, to the inexpressible
grief of the whole nation. It was on the death of
this queen that mournings were first worn in Scot-
land. James, however, in expectation of this event,
had fixed his attention upon Mary of Cluise, widow
of the Duke of I.ongueville; and Beaton, who by
this time had returned to Scotland, was despatched
immedi.itely to bring her over. On this occasion
he was appointed by the King of France Bishop of
Mirepoix, to whicli see he was consecrated Decem-
ber 5th, 1537. The following year he was, at the
rccommcnd.ition of the French king, elevated to the
cardinalship by the pope, which was followed by a
grant on the part of the French king for services
already done, and for those which he might after-
wards ilo to his niajoty, allowing his heirs to succeed
to his estate in France, though the said heirs should
be born and live within the kingdom of Scotland.
The cardinal returned to Scotland with Mary of
Ciuise, and shortly after obtained the entire man.ige-
mcnt of the diocese and primacy of St. .Vndrews,
under his uncle James Beaton, whom he eventually
sacc-'cded in that office.

A severe persecution was commenced at this time
by the cardinal against all who were suspected of
favouring the reformed doctrines. Many were forced
to recant, and two persons, Norman Gourlay and
David Straiton, were burned at the Rood of Green-
side, near Edinburgh. Being appointed by the pope
legattis a latere, Beaton held a conclave of noble-
men, prelates, and church dignitaries at St. An-
drews, and harangued them from his chair of state
on the dangers that hung over the true catholic
church from the proceedings of King Henry in Eng-
land, and particularly from the great increase of
heresy in Scotland, where it had found encourage-
ment even in the court of the king. As he proceeded,
he denounced .Sir John Borthwick, provost of Lin-
lithgow, as one of the most industrious incendiaries,
and caused him to be cited before them for main-
taining that the pope had no greater authority over
Christians than any other bishop or prelate — that
indulgences granted by the pope were of no force or
effect, but devised to amuse the people and deceive
poor ignorant souls — that bishops, priests, and other
clergymen may lawfully marry — that the heresies
commonly called the heresies of England and their
new liturgy were to be commended by all good
Christians, and to be embraced by them — that the
people of Scotland are blinded by their clergy, and
profess not the true faith — that churchmen ought
not to enjoy any temporalities — that the king ought
to convert the superfluous revenues of the church
unto other pious uses — that the Church of Scotland
ought to be reformed after the same manner as that
of England was — that the canon law was of no force,
being contrary to the law of God — that the orders
of friars and monks should be abolished, as had been
done in England — that he had openly called the
pope a .Simoniac, because he had sold spiritual
things — that he had read heretical books and the
New Testament in English, with treatises written
by Melancthon, CEcolampadius, and other heretics,
and that he not only read them himself, but distri-
buted them among others — and lastly, that he openly
disowned the authority of the Roman see. These
articles being read, and Sir John neither appear-
ing in person nor by proxy, he was set down as a
confessed heretic, and condemned as an heresiarch.
His goods were ordered to be confiscated and him-
self burned in effigy, if he could not be apprehended,
and all manner of persons forbidden to entertain or
converse with him, under the pain of excommunica-
tion or forfeiture. This sentence was passed against
him on the 28th of May, and executed the same day
so far as was in the power of the court, his effig)'
being burned in the market-place of St. Andrews, and
two days after at Edinburgh. This was supposed
by many to be intended as a gratifying spectacle to
Mary of Guise, the new queen, who had only a short
time before arrived from France. In the meantime,
Sir John fled into England, where he was received
with open arms by Henry VHI., by whom he was
sent on an embassy to the Protestant princes of
(iermany, for the purpose of forming with them a
defensive league against the pope. Johnston, in his
Heroes of Scotland, says that "John Borthwick, .i
noble knight, was as much esteemed by King James
V. for his exemplar and amiable ([ualitics, as he was
detested by the order of the prie>thood on account
of his true piety, for his unfeigned profession of which
he was condemned; and, though absent, his tflcct-.
confiscated, anti his effig}-, after beini; subjected t"
various marks of ignomin}', burned.'' a, wc have
above related; "this condemnation." Jiihn-t<jn
adds, "he answered by a nio>t learned aj>olog)-,
which mav vet be seen in the records of the martyrs

DAVID BEATON.

[Fox]; and having survived many years, at last died
in peace in a good old age."

During these events, Henry, anxious to destroy
that interest which the French government had so
long maintained in Scotland, sent into that kingdom
the Bishop of St. David's with some books written
in the vulgar tongue upon the doctrines of Chris-
tianity, which he recommended to his nephew care-
fully to peruse. James, who was more addicted to
his amusements than to study, gave the books to be
perused by some of his courtiers, who, being attached
to the clerical order, condemned them as pestilent
and heretical. There were, however, other matters
proposed by this embassy than the books, though the
clerical faction endeavoured to persuade the people
that the books were all that was intended; for,
shortly after, the same bishop, accompanied by
William Howard, brother of the Duke of Norfolk,
came to the king at Stirling so suddenly, that he was
not aware of their coming till they were announced
as arrived in the town. This, no doubt, was planned
by Henry to prevent the intriguing of the priests and
the French faction beforehand. His offers were so
advantageous, that James acceded to them without
scruple, and readily agreed to meet with his uncle
Henry on an appointed day, when they were to
settle all matters in dependence between them for
the welfare of both kingdoms. Nothing could be
more terrible to the clergy, of which Beaton was
now confessedly the head in Scotland, than the
agreement of the two kings; and they hastened to
court from all quarters to weep over their religion,
about to be betrayed by an unholy conference, which
could not fail, they said, to end in the ruin of the
kingdom. Having by these representations made
a strong impression upon the king, they then bribed
the courtiers who had the most powerful influence
over him, to dissuade him from the promised journey,
which they successfully did, and so laid the founda-
tion of a war, the disastrous issue of which, preying
upon the mind of James, brought him to an untimely
end.

In the whole of these transactions, Beaton,
a zealous churchman and the hired tool of France,
was the chief actor; and knowing that the king was
l>oth covetous and needy, he overcame his scruples,
by persuading the clergy to promise him a yearly
subsidy of 30,000 gold crowns. As he had no de-
sign, however, that the church should defray the
cost, he pointed out the estates of those who rebelled
against the authority of the pope and the king
as proper subjects for confiscation, whereby there
might he raised annually the sum of 100,000 crowns of
gold. In order to attain this oljject, he reriuested that,
for himself and his brethren, they might only be
allowed to name, as they were precluded themselves
from sitting in judgment in criminal Cases, a lord cliief-
justice, before whom, were he once appointed, there
could be neither difficulty in managing the process,
nor delay in procuring judgment, since so many men
hesitated not to read the books of the New and Old
Testaments, and to treat the church and churchmen
with contempt. This wicked counsel was complied
with, and they nominated for this new court of in-
quisition a judge ever\'way according to their own
hearts, James Hamilton (a natural brother of the
Karl of Arran), whom they had attached to their
interests by large gifts, ancl who was willing to Ije
reconcile<l to the king, whom he had lately offended,
by any service, however cruel.

The suspicions which the king entertained against

' his nobility from this time forward were such as to

]>aralyze his efforts whether for good or evil. The

inroads of 'the English, too, occupied his whole

attention, and the shameful overthrow of his army
which had entered England by the Solway, threw
him into such a state of rage and distraction, that he
died at Falkland on the 13th of December, 1542,
leaving the kingdom, torn by faction, and utterly
defenceless, to his only surviving legitimate child,
Mary, then no more than five days old. The sudden
demise of the king, while it quashed the old projects
of the cardinal, only set him upon forming new ones
still more daring and dangerous. Formerly he had
laboured to direct the movements of the king by
humouring his passions, flattering his vanity, and
administering to his vicious propensities; he now
conceived that it would be easy for him to seize upon
the government in the name of the infant queen.
Accordingly, with the assistance of one Henry
Balfour, a mercenary priest, whom he suborned, he
is said to have forged a will for the king, in which
he was himself nominated regent, with three of the
nobility as his assessors or assistants. According to
Knox, these were Argyle, Huntley, and Murray; but
Buchanan, whom we think a very sufficient authority
in this case, says that he also assumed as an assessor
his cousin by the mother's side, the Earl of Arran,
who was, after Mary, the next heir to the crown, but
was believed to be poorly qualified for discharging
the duties of a private life, and still less for directing
the government of a kingdom. Aware of the danger
that might arise from delay, the cardinal lost not
a moment in idle deliberation. The will which he
had forged he caused to be proclaimed at the cross
of Edinburgh on the Monday immediately succeeding
the king's death.

Arran, had he been left to himself, would have
peaceably acquiesced in the cardinal's arrangements.
But his friends, the Hamiltons, incessantly urged
him not to let such an occasion slip out of his hands.
Hatred, too, to the cardinal, who, from his per-
secuting and selfish spirit, was very generally detested,
and the disgrace of living in bondage to a priest,
procured them many associates. The near prospect
which Arran now had of succeeding to the crown,
must also have enlisted a number of the more wary
and calculating politicians upon his side. But what
was of still more consequence to him, Henry of
England, who had carried all the principal prisoners
taken in the late battle to London, marched them in
triumph through that metropolis, and given them in
charge to his principal nobility, no sooner heard of
the death of the king than he recalled the captives
to court, entertained them in the most friendly
manner, and having taken a promise from each of
them that they would promote as far as possible,
without detriment to the public interests, or disgrace
to themselves, a marriage between his son and the
young queen, he sent them back to Scotland, where
they arrived on the 1st of January, 1543. Along
with the prisoners the Earl of Angus and his brother
were restored to their country, after an exile of fifteen
years, and all were received by the nation with the
most joyful gratulations. It was in vain that the
cardinal had already taken possession of the regency.
Arran, by the advice of the laird of Grange, called
an assembly of the nobility, and finding the will u]ion
which the cardinal had assumed the regency forged,
they set him aside and elected Arran in his jjlate.
This was peculiarly grateful to a great proportif)n
of the nobles and gentlemen, three hundred of
whom, with Arran at their head, were found in a
]>roscription list among the king's papers, furnished
to him by the cardinal. Arran, it was well known,
was friendly to the reformers, and his imbecility of
mind being unknown, tlie greatest expectations were
formed from the moderation of his character. In tl.e

DAVID BEATON.

103

parliament that met in the month of March follow-
ing, public affairs put on a much more promising
appearance than could have been expected. The
king of England, instead of an army, sent an am-
bassador to negotiate a marriage between the young
queen and his son, and a lasting peace upon the
most advantageous terms. The cardinal, who saw
in this alliance with Protestant England the downfall
of his church in Scotland, opposed himself with the
whole weight of the clergy, and all the influence of the
queen-dowager, to everything like pacific measures,
and that with so much violence, that he was, by the
general consent of the house, shut up in a separate
chamber while the votes were taken; after which
everything was settled in the most amicable man-
ner, and it was agreed that hostages should be sent
into England for the fulfilment of the stipulated
articles.

The cardinal in the meantime was committed as
a prisoner into the hands of Lord Seton, but was
afterwards suffered to resume his own castle at St.
Andrews. In the great confusion of public affairs
that had prevailed for a number of years, trade had
been at a stand, and now that a lasting peace seemed
to be established, a number of vessels were sent to
sea laden with the most valuable merchandise.
Edinburgh itself fitted out twelve, and the other
towns on the eastern coast in proportion to their
wealth, all of them coasting the English shores, and
entering their harbours with the most undoubt-
ing confidence. Restored, however, to liberty, the
cardinal strained every nerve to break up the arrange-
ments that had been so happily concluded. He
prevailed on a portion of the clergy to give all their
own money, their silver plate, and the plate belong-
ing to their churches; and aided by this money, with
which he wrought upon the avarice and the poverty
of the notiles and excited the clamours of the vulgar,
who hated the very name of an English alliance, the
cardinal soon found himself at the head of a formid-
able party, which treated the English ambassador
with the greatest haughtiness, in the hope of forcing
him out of the country before the arrival of the
day stipulated by the treaty with the regent for the
delivery of the hostages. The ambassador, however,
braved every insult till the day arrived, when he
waited on the regent, and complained in strong terms
of the manner in which he had been used, and
demanded the fulfilment of the treaty. With respect
to the affronts, the regent stated them to have been
committed without his knowledge, and promised to
punish tiie offenders. With regard to tlie hostages,
however, he was obliged to confess, that, through
tiie intrigiies of the cardinal, it was impossible for
him to furnish them. The treaty being thus broken
off, the noblemen who had been captives only a few
months l>efore, ought, according to agreement, to
h?-ve gone back into England, having left hostages to
that effect. Wrought upon, however, by the cardinal
and the clerg}-, tliey refused to redeem the faith they
had pledged, and abandoned the friends they had
left behind them to their fate. The only exception
to this baseness was the Earl of Cassilis, who had
left two brothers as hostages. Henry was so much
plea>cd with this soHtan,- in>tance of g'ood faith, that
he set him free along with his brothers, and sent him
home loaded with gifts. He at the same time seized
ujion all the Scottish vessels, a great number of
which had been lately fitted out, and were at this
time in tlie English harbours, confiscated the mer-
chanrlise, and made the merchants and the mariners
prisoners of war. This, while it atlded to the
domestic miseries of Scotland, served also to fan the
Jlames of dissension, which burned more fiercely than

ever. The faction of the cardinal and the queen-
dowager, entirely devoted to France, now sent am-
bassadors thither to state their case as utterly
desperate, unless they were supported from that
country. In particular, they requested that Matthew
Earl of Lennox might l>e ordered home, in order
that they might set him up as a rival to the Hamiltons,
who were already the objects of his hatred, on ac-
count of their having waylaid and killed his father at
Linlithgow.

Arran laboured to strengthen his party by possess-
ing himself of the infant queen, who had hitherto
remained at Linlithgow in the charge of her mother
the queen-dowager. The cardinal, however, was
too wary to be thus circumvented, and occupied
Linlithgow. Lennox, in the meantime, arrived from
France, and having informed his friends of the ex-
pectations he had been led to form, he proceeded to
join the queen at Linlithgow, accompanied by up-
wards of 4000 men. Arran, who had assembled all
his friends in and about Edinburgh for the purpose
of breaking through to the queen, now found himself
completely in the back-ground, having, by the im-
becility of his character, entirely lost the confidence
of the people, and being threatened with a lawsuit
by the friends of Lennox to deprive him of his
estates, his father having married his mother, Janet
Beaton, an aunt of the cardinal, while his first wife,
whom he had divorced, was still alive. He now
thought of nothing but making his peace with the
cardinal. To this the cardinal was not at all averse,
as he wished to make Arran his tool rather than his
\ictim. Delegates of both parties met at Kirkliston,
and agreed that the queen should be carried to
Stirling; the Earl of Montrose, with the Lords
Erskine, Lindsay, and Livingstone, being nominated
to take the superintendence of her education. Having
been put in possession of the infant queen, these
noblemen proceeded with her direct to Stirling
Castle, where she was solemnly inaugurated with the
usual ceremonies on the 9th of Sept. 1543. The
feeble regent soon followed, and, before the queen-
mother and the principal nobility in the church of
the Franciscans at Stirling, solemnly abjured the
Protestant doctrines, by the profession of which alone
he had obtained the favour of so large a portion of
the nation, and for the protection of which he had
been especially called to the regency. In this
manner the cardinal, through the cowardice of the
regent and the avarice of his friends, obtained all
that he intended by the forged will, and enjoyed all
the advantages of ruling, while all the odium that
attended it attached to the imbecile Arran. There
was yet, however, one thing wanting to establish the
power of the cardinal — the dismissal of Lennox, who
was now a serious obstacle in the way of both the
cardinal and the queen-mother. They accordingly
wrote to the King of France, entreating that, as
Scotland had been restored to tranquillity l)y h.is
liberality and assi>tance, he would secure his own
good work and preserve the peace which he had
procured, by recalling Lennox, without which it was
impossible it could be lasting.

Though they were thus secretly labouring 1 >
undermine this nobleman, the queen-mother and xhc
cardinal seemed to honour him before the ]'fO]':e, and
by a constant succession of games and fc>t;\a!s tlie
court presenteil one unbroken scene of gaiety. Day
after day was sjient in tounianicnt-, and ni^l-.t .Tit'.r
night in masquerade-^. In these fc-tivitio. ot %vh;c:i
he was naturally f >r.ii, Lennox found a keen rival ;n
James Hepburn, Earl of I'.othwell, w!io b.ad been
banished by Janus V.. but had returned after his
decease, and w.as now labouring tu cltri'.n the queen-

I04

DAVID BEATON.

dowager in marriage by the same arts that Lennox
fancied himself to be so successfully employing.
Both these noblemen were remarkable for natural
endowments, and in the gifts of fortune they were
nearly upon a level. Finding himself inferior, how-
ever, in the sportive strife of arms, Bothwell with-
drew from the court in chagrin, leaving the field to
his rival undisputed. Lennox now pressed his suit
upon the queen, but learned with astonishment that
she had no intention of taking him for a husband,
and so far from granting him the regency, she had
agreed with the cardinal to preserve it in the posses-
sion of his mortal enemy Arran, whom they expected
to be more pliant. Exasperated to the highest
degree, Lennox swore to be amply revenged, but
uncertain as yet what plan to pursue, departed for
Dunbarton, where he was in the midst of his vassals
and friends. Here he received 30,00x3 crowns,
sent to increase the strength of his party by the
King of France, who had not yet been informed of
the real state of Scotland. Being ordered to con-
sult with the queen-dowager and the cardinal in the
distribution of this money, Lennox divided part of it
among his friends, and part he sent to the queen.
The cardinal, who had expected to have been in-
trusted with the greatest share of the money, under
the influence of rage and disappointment, persuaded
the vacillating regent to raise an army and march to
Glasgow, where he might seize upon Lennox and
the money at the same time. Lennox, however,
warned of their intentions, raised on the instant
among his vassals and friends upwards of 10,000
men, with whom he marched to Leith, and sent
a message to the cardinal at Edinburgh, that he
desired to save him the trouble of coming to fight
him at Glasgow, and would give him that pleasure
any day in the fields between Edinburgh and
Leith.

This was a new and unexpected mortification to
the cardinal, who had gained only the regent and
his immediate dependants, the great body of the
people, who had originally given him weight and
influence, having now deserted his standard. The
cardinal, therefore, delayed coming to action from
day to day under various pretexts, but in reality that
he might have time to seduce the adherents of his
rival, who could not be kept for any length of time
together. Lennox, finding the war thus protracted,
made an agreement with the regent, and, proceed-
ing to Edinburgh, the two visited backwards and
forwards, as if all their ancient animosity had been
forgotten. Lennox, however, being advised of
treacher)', withdrew in the night secretly to Glasgow,
where he fortified, provisioned, and garrisoned the
bishop's castle, but retired himself to Dunbarton.
Here he learned that tlie Douglasses had agreed with
the Hamiltons, and that, through the influence of
his enemies, the French king was totally estranged
from him. Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, and
Robert ^L'lxwell, in the meantime, came to Glasgow
with the view of mediating between Lennox and the
regent. The regent, however, seized them both in
a clandestine manner by the way, and made them
close prisoners in the castle of Cadzow. While the
two factions were thus harassing one another to the
niin of their common country, Henry was demand-
ing by letters satisfaction for the breach of treaties
and the insults that had been heaped upon him in
the person of his late ambassador. No notice being
taken of these letters, Henry ordered a large arma-
ment, which he had prepared to send against tlie
coast of France, to proceed directly to Leith, and to
visit Edinljurgh and the adjacent country with all
the miseries of war; and with so much secrecy and

celerity did this armament proceed, that the first
tidings heard of it in Scotland was its appearance in
Leith Roads. Ten thousand men were disembarked
on the 4th May, 1544, a little above Leith, who took
possession of that place without the smallest opposi-
tion. The regent and the cardinal were both at the
time in Edinburgh, and, panic-stricken at the appear-
ance of the enemy, and still more at the hatred of the
citizens, fled with the utmost precipitation towards
Stirling. The English in the meantime marched
towards Edinburgh, which they sacked and set on
fire; then dispersing themselves over the neighbour-
ing country, they burned towns, villages, and gentle-
men's seats to the ground, and returning by Edin-
burgh to Leith, embarked aboard their ships and set
sail with a fair wind, carrying with them an immense
booty, and with the loss on their part of only a few
soldiers.

The cardinal and his puppet the regent, in the
meantime, raised a small body of forces in the north,
with which, finding the English gone, they laid siege
to the castle of Glasgow, which surrendered. l)e-
feated at Glasgow, in a fresh encounter with the
Hamiltons, the friends of Lennox refused to risk
another engagement, but they insisted that he should
keep the impregnable fortress of Dunbarton, where
he might in safety await another revolution in the state
of parties, which they prognosticated would take
place in a very short time. Nothing, however, could
divert him from his purpose; and, committing the
charge of the castle of Dunbarton to George .Stirling,
he sailed for England, where he was honourably en-
tertained by King Henry, who settled a pension
upon him, and gave him to wife his niece, Margaret
Douglas, a princess in the flower of her age, and
celebrated for every accomplishment becoming the
female character. Arran was delighted to be de-
livered from such a formidable rival; and in the next
parliament, which met at Linlithgow, he succeeded
in causing Lennox to be declared a traitor, and in
having his estates and those of his friends confiscated.

The English, during these domestic broils, made
a furious inroad into Scotland, burned Jedburgh and
Kelso, and laid waste the whole surrounding countiy.
Thence proceeding to Coldingham, they fortifieil the
church and the church-tower, in which they placed
a garrison on retiring home. This garrison, from the
love of plunder as well as to prevent supplies for a
besieging army, wasted the neighbouring district to
a wide extent. Turning their attention at last to
general interests, the Scottish government, at the
head of which was the cardinal, the queen-dowager,
and the nominal regent Arran, issued a proclama-
tion for the nobles and the more respectable of the
commons to assemble armed, and with provisions
for eight days, to attend the regent. Eight thousantl
men were speedily assembled, and though it was the
depth of winter, thf>y proceeded against the church
and tower of Coldingliam without delay. When
they had been before the place only one day and one
niglit, the regent, informed that the English were
advancing from Berwick, took horse, and with a few
attendants galloped in the utmost haste to Dunbar.
This inexplicable conduct threw the whole army ir.to
confusion, and but for the bravery of one man,
Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, the whole of their
tents, lwgL;age, anel artillery would have ])een aban-
doned to the enemy. But although An^us and a
few of his friends, at the imminent hazard of their
lives, saved the artillery and brought it in safety to
Dunbar, the conduct of the army in general, and
of the regent in particular, was pusillanimous in the
extreme. The spirit of the nation sunk, and the
courage of the enemy rose in proportion. Ralph

DAVID BEATON'.

105

Ivers and Brian Latoun, the English commanders,
overran, without opposition, the districts of Merse,
Teviotdale, and Lauderdale, and the Forth only
seemed to limit their victorious arms. Angus,
who alone of all the Scottish nobility at this time
gave any indication of public spirit, indignant at
the nation's disgrace, and deeply affected with his
own losses — for he had extensive estates both in
Merse and Teviotdale — made a vehement complaint
to the regent upon his folly, and the regent was
roused to a momentary exertion, so that, in company
with Angus, he set out the very next day for the
borders, their whole retinue not exceeding 300 horse.
The English, who were at Jedburgh to the number
of 5000 men, having ascertained the situation and
small number of their forces, marched on the instant
to surprise them before their expected supplies should
come up. The Scots, however, apprised of their in-
tentions, withdrew to the neighbouring hills, whence,
in perfect security, they watched the movements of
their enemies, who, disappointed in not finding them,
wandered about during the night in quest of such spoils
as a lately ravaged town could supply, and with the
returning dawn marched back to Jedburgh. The
.Scots, now joined by Norman Leslie, a youth of great
promise, son to the Earl of Rothes, and 300 men
from Fife, withdrew to the hills which overlook the
village of Ancrum, where they were joined by the
laird of Balcleugh, an active and experienced com-
mander, with a few of his vassals, who assured him
that the remainder would follow immediately. By
the advice of Balcleugh the troops were dismounted,
and the horses, under the care of servants, sent to an
adjoining hill. The army was formed in the hollow
in the order of battle. The English, as had been
anticipated, seeing the horses going over the hill,
supposed the Scots to be in full retreat, and eager to
prevent their escape, rushed after them, and ere they
were aware fell upon the Scottish spears. Taken
by surprise, the English troops, though they fought
with great braver)', were thrown into disorder, and
sustained a signal defeat, losing in killed and cap-
tured upwards of 1300 men. The loss on the part
of the .Scots was two men killed and a few wounded.
By this victory and the alliance with France,
Beaton now supposed himself fully established in the
civil as well as the ecclesiastic management of the
kingdom, and proceeded on a progress through the
different provinces for the purpose of quieting the
seditions which, as he alleged, had arisen in various
places, but in reality to repress the Protestants, who,
notwithstanding his having so artfully identified the
cause of the Catholic religion with that of national
feeling, had still been rapidly increasing. Carrying
Arran along with him, as also the Earl of Arg)le,
lord justice-general, Lord Borthwick, the Bishops of
Orkney and Dunblane, Sec, he came to Perth, or,
as it was then more commonly called, -St. Johnston,
where several jiersons were summoned before him
for disputing upon the sense of the .Scriptures, which,
among all tnie Catholics, was a crime to be punished
by the judge. Four unhappy men, accused of having
eaten a goose up(}n a Friday, were condemned to be
hangeil, which rigorous sentence was put into execu-
tion. .\ woman, Helen Stork, for having refused
to call u])on the \'irgin for assistance in her lal)our,
was drowned, although again pregnant. A number
of the burge>ses of the city, convicted or suspected
(for in those days tliey were the same thing) of smaller
peccadilloes, were banished from the city. He also
deposed the Lord Ruthven from the provostry of
the city, for being somewhat attached to the new
opinions, an<l bestowed the office u;ion the laird of
Kinfauns, a relation to tlie Lord Cray, who was

neither supposed to be averse to the new religion
nor friendly to the cardinal; but he hoped by this
arrangement to lay a foundation for a quarrel between
these noblemen, by which at least one of them would
be cut off. This act of tyranny, by which the citizens
were deprived of their privilege of choosing their
own governor, was highly resented by them, as well
as by the Lord Ruthven, whose family had held the
place so long that they almost considered it to be
hereditary in their family. The new provost, Kin-
fauns, was urged by the cardin.al and his advisers
to seize upon the government of the city by force,
but the Lord Ruthven, with the assistance of the
citizens, put him to the rout, and slew sixty of his
followers. That Ruthven was victorious must have
been a little mortifying to the cardinal; but as the
victims were enemies of the church, the defeat was
the less to be lamented.

From St. Johnston the cardinal proceeded to
Dundee, in order to bring to punishment the readers
of the New Testament, which about this time began
to be taught to them in the original Greek, of which
the .Scottish priesthood knew so little that they held
it forth as a new book written in a new language,
invented by Martin Luther, and of such pernicious
qualities, that whoever had the misfortune to look
into it became infallibly tainted with deadly heresy.
Here, however, their proceedings were interrupted
by the approach of Lord Patrick Gray and the Earl
of Rothes. These noblemen being both friendly to
the Reformation, the cardinal durst not admit them
with their followers into a town that was notorious
for attachment to that cause above all the cities of
the kingdom; he therefore sent the regent back to
Perth, whither he himself also accompanied him.
Even in Perth, however, he durst not meet them
openly, and the regent requiring them to enter sepa-
rately, they complied, and were both committed to
prison. Rothes was soon dismissed, but Gray, whom
the cardinal was chiefly afraid of, remained in con-
finement a considerable time. The cardinal, having
gone over as much of Angus as he found convenient
at the time, returned to St. Andrews, carrying along
with him a black friar, named John Rogers, who had
been preaching the reformed doctrine in Angus. This
individual he committed to the sea-tower of St.
Andrews, where, it is alleged, he caused him to be
privately murdered and thrown over the wall, gi\ing
out that he had attempted to escape over it, and in
the attempt had fallen and broke his neck. Keep-
ing .Vrran still in his company, the cardinal set out
to Edinburgh, where he convened an assembly of
the clergy to devise means for putting a stop to the
disorders that threatened the total ruin of the church.
In this meeting it was proposed to allay the public
clamours by taking measures for reforming the oj^en
profligacy of the priests, which was the chief source
of complaint. Their deliberations, however, were
cut short by intelligence that George Wishart, the
most eminent of the reformed preachers, was resid-
ing with Cockburn of Ormiston, only about seven
miles from Edinburgh. They calculated that, if tlicy
could cut off this individual, they should perform an
action more sers-iceable to the cause of the cluirch,
and also one of much easier accomplishmeiu, tli.m
reibrming the lives of the priests. .\ trooji «.if h.ir-e
were immediately sent off to secure him. hut Lock-^
burn refusing to' deliver him, the cardinal himselt
and the regent followed, blocking uji every av^'nue
ti the house, so as to render the f-ca;'f i>f the
reformer impossible. 'l"o prevent t!ie ttiu^ii'n ot
blood, however, the Earl of Bntiiwcll wa- sent f >r,
who pledged his faith to Cockl)um tl.at he would
stand by "Wi-hart, and 1h.1t no harm ^huuld befall

io6

DAVID BEATON.

him; upon which he was peaceably surrendered.
Bothwell, however, wrought upon by the cardinal,
and especially by the queen-mother, with whom,
Knox observes, "he was then in the glonders," after
some shuffling to save appearances, delivered his
jirisoner up to the cardinal, who imprisoned him,
first in the castle of Edinburgh, and soon after
carried him to St. Andrews, where he was brought
before the ecclesiastical tribunal, condemned ior
heresy, and most cruelly put to death, as the reader
will find related in another part of this work under
the article Wishart. Arran, pressed by his friends,
and perhaps by his own conscience, wrote to the
cardinal to stay the proceedings till he should have
time to inquire into the matter, and threatened him
with the guilt of innocent blood. But the warning
was in vain, and tiie innocent victim was only the
more rapidly hurried to his end for fear of a rescue.

This act of tyranny and murder was extolled by
the clergy and their dependants as highly glorifying
to God and honourable to the actor. The people in
general felt far otherwise, and regarded the cardinal
as a monster of cnielty and lust, whom it would be
a meritorious action to destroy. Beaton was not
ignorant of this general hatred, nor of the devices
that were forming against him; but he supposed his
power to be now so firmly established as to be
beyond the reach of faction. In the meantime he
thouglit it prudent to strengthen his interest, which
was already great, by giving his daughter in marriage
to the Master of Crawford. For this purpose he
proceeded to Angus, where the marriage was cele-
brated with almost royal splendour, the bride receiv-
ing from her father the cardinal no less than four
thousand marks of dowry. From these festivities
he was suddenly recalled by intelligence that Henry
of England was collecting a great naval force, with
which he intended to annoy Scotland, and especially
the coast of Fife. To provide against such an exi-
gency, the cardinal summoned the nobility to attend
him in a tour round the coast, where he ordered
fortifications to be constructed, and garrisons placed
in the most advantageous positions. In this tour he
was attended by the blaster of Rothes, Norman Leslie,
who had formerly been one of his friends, but had of
late, from some private grudge, become cold towards
him. Some altercation of course ensued, and they
parted in mortal enmity. The cardinal determined
secretly to take off or imprison Norman, with his
friends the lairds of Grange, elder and younger. Sir
James Learmont, provost of St. Andrews, and the
laird of Raith, all whom he feared; and Norman
resolved to slay the cardinal, be the consequences
what they would.

The cardinal was in the meantime in great haste
to repair and strengthen his castle, upon which a
large number of men were employed almost night
and day. The conspirators having lodged themselves
secretly in .St. Andrews on tiie night of May the 28th,
1546, were, ere the dawn of the next morning, assem-
bled to the numlier of ten or twelve persons in the
neighbourhood of the castle, and the gates being
opened to let in the workmen with their building
materials, Kirkaldy of Grange entered, and with him
six persons, who held a jiarley with the porter.
Norman Leslie and his con^.pany, having then entered,
f)assefl to the middle of the court. Lastly came
John Leslie and four men witli him, at whose a]ipear-
ance the porter, susjjccting some design, attcm]>ted
to lift the drawbridge, but was prevented by Leslie,
who leaped upon it, seized the keys, and threw the
janitor into the ditch. The place thus secured, tlie
workmen, to the number of a hundred, ran off the
walls, and were put forth at the wicket gate unhurt.

Kirkaldy then took charge of the privy postern, the
others going through the different chambers, from
which they ejected upwards of fifty persons, who were
quietly permitted to escape. The cardinal, roused
from his morning slumbers by the noise, threw up
his window and asked what it meant. Being answered
that Norman Leslie had taken his castle, he ran to
the postern, but finding it secured, returned to his
chamber, drew his two-handed sword, and ordered
his chamberlain to barricade the door. In the mean-
time, John Leslie demanded admittance, but did not
gain it till a chimneyful of burning coals was brought
to bum the door, when the cardinal or his chamber-
lain (it is not known which) threw it open. Beaton,
who had in the meantime hidden a box of gold
under some coals in a corner of the room, now sat
down in a chair, crying, "I am a priest, I am a priest;
you will not slay me." But he was now in the hands
of men to whom his priestly character was no recom-
mendation. John Leslie, according to hisvow, struck
him twice with his dagger, and so did Peter Carmi-
chael; but James Melville, perceiving them to be in
a passion, withdrew them, saying, "This work and
judgment of God, although it be secret, ought to be
gone about with gravity." Then, admonishing the
cardinal of his wicked life, particularly his shedding
the blood of that eminent preacher, Mr. George
Wishart, Melville struck him thrice through with a
stog [or short] sword, and he fell, exclaiming, "F^e,
fie, I am a priest; all's gone I" Before this time the
inhabitants of St. Andrews were apprised of what
was going on, and began to throng around the castle,
exclaiming, "Have ye slain my Lord Cardinal?
What have ye done with my Lord Cardinal?" As
they refused to depart till they saw him, his dead
body was hung out in a sheet by the assassins at the
same window from which he had but a short time
before witnessed the burning of Mr. George Wishart.
Having no opportunity to bury the body, they after-
wards salted it, wrapped it in lead, and consigned it
to the ground floor of the sea-tower, the very place
where he was said to have caused Rogers the preach-
ing friar to be murdered.

In this manner fell Cardinal David Beaton, in the
height of prosperity, and in the prime of life, for he
had only reached the fifty-second year of his age.
His death was deeply lamented by his own party, to
whom it proved an irreparable loss, and the authors
of it were regarded by them as sacrilegious assassins;
but by numbers, who, on account of difference in
religion, were in dread of their lives from his craelty,
and by others who were disgusted by his insufferable
arrogance, they were regarded as the restorers of
their country's liberties, and many did not hesitate
to hazard their lives and fortunes along with ihcm.
Whatever opinion may be formed regarding the
manner of his death, there can be only one regarding
its effects; the Protestant faith, which had quailed
before his powerful intellect and persecuting arm,
from this moment began to prosper in the land. It
is ])robable, as his enemies alone have been his his-
torians, that the traits of his character, and even
the tone and bearing of many of his actions, have
l)cen to some degree exaggerated; yet there seems
abundant jiroof of his sensuality, his cruelty, and his
total disregard of princijile in his exertions for the
])reservation of the Romish faith. Nothing, on the
other hand, Init that barbarism of the times which
characterizes all Beaton'spolicy, as well as hisactions,
could extenuate the foul deed by which he was re-
moved from the world, or the unseemly sym])athy
which the reforming party in general manifested to-
wards its pcrjjctrators. As a favour.able view of his
character, and at the same time a fine specimen of

DAVID BEATON ^JAMES BEATON.

107

old English composition, we extract the following
from the supplement to Dempster: —

"It frequently happens that the^ame great quali-
ties of mind which enable a man to distinguish him-
self by the splendour of his virtues are so overstrained
or corrupted as to render him no less notorious for
his vices. Of this we have many instances in ancient
writers, but none by which it is more clearly displayed
tlian in the character of the cardinal archbishop of
St. Andrews, David Beaton, who, from his very child-
hood, was e.xtremely remarkable, and whose violent
death had this in it singular, that his enemies knew
no way to remove him from his absolute authority
but that [of assassination]. When he was but ten
years of age, he spoke with so much ease and gravity,
with so much good sense and freedom from affectation,
as surprised all who heard him. When he was little
more than twenty, he became known to the Duke of
Albany and to the court of France, where he trans-
acted affairs of the greatest importance, at an age
when others begin to become acquainted with them
only in books. Before he was thirty he had merited
the confidence of the regent, the attention of the
French king, and the favour of his master, so that
they were all suitors to the court of Rome in his
behalf. He was soon after made lord privy-seal,
and appointed by act of parliament to attend the
young king, at his majesty's own desire. Before he
attained the forty-fifth year of his age he was Bishop
of Mirepoix in France, Cardinal of the Roman Church,
Archbishop of St. Andrews, and Primate of Scotland,
to which high dignities he added, before he was fifty,
those of lord high-chancellor, and legate a latere.
1 1 is behaviour was so taking, that he never addicted
himself to the service of any prince or person but he
aljsolutely obtamed their confidence; and this power
he had over the minds of others he managed with
so much discretion, that his interest never weak-
ened or decayed. He was the favourite of the regent,
Duke of Albany, and of his pupil James V., as long
as they lived; and the French king and the governor
of Scotland equally regretted his loss. He was inde-
fatigable in business, and yet managed it with great
ease. He understood the interests of the courts of
Rome, France, and Scotland better than any man of
his time; and he was perfectly acquainted with the
temper, influence, and weight of all the nobility in
his own country. In time of danger he showed great
prudence and steadiness of mind, and in his highest
prosperity discovered nothing of vanity or giddiness.
He was a zealous churchman, and thought severity
the only weapon that could combat heresy. He
loved to live magnificently, though not profusely; for
at the time of his death he was rich, and yet had
provided plentifully for his family. But his vices
were many, and his vices scandalous. He quarrelled
with the old Archbishop of Glasgow in his own city,
and pushed this quarrel so far that their men fought
in the very church. His ambition was boundless, for
he took into his hands the entire management of the
affairs of the kingdom, civil and ecclesiastical, and
treated t!ie Knglisli ambassador as if he had been
a sovereign i^rince. He made no scruple of sow-
ing discord among his enemies, that he might reap
security from tiieir disputes. His jealousy of the
governor [.\nan] was such, that he kept his eldest
son as a hostage in his house, umler pretence of tak-
ing care of liis education. In point of chastity he
was very deficient; for, thougli we should set aside as
calumnies many of those things wliicli his enemies
have reported of his intrigues, yet the posterity he
left behind him plainly proves tliat he violated those
vows, to gratify liis jiassions. which he obliged others
to hold sacred on tlie penalty of their lives. In

a word, had his probity been equal to his parts, had
his virtues come up to his abilities, his end had been
less fatal, and his memory without blemish. As it
is, we ought to consider him as an eminent instance
of the frailty of the brightest human faculties, and
the instability of what the world calls fortune."

He wrote, according to Dempster, Memoirs of his
aivn Embassies, A Treatise of Jeter's Primacy, and
Letters to Several Persons.

BEATON, James, uncle to the preceding, and
himself an eminent prelate and statesman, was a
younger son of John Beaton of Balfour, in Fife, and
of Mary Boswell, daughter of the Laird of Balmouto.
Having been educated for the church, he became, in
1503, provost of the collegiate church of Bothwell,
by the favour, it has been almost necessarily supposed,
of the house of Douglas, who were patrons of the
establishment. His promotion was very rapid. In
1504 he was made abbot of the rich and important
abbacy of Dunfermline, which had previously been
held by a brother of the king; and in 1505, on the
death of his uncle, Sir David Beaton, who had
hitherto been his chief patron, he received his office
of high treasurer, and became, of course, one of the
principal ministers of state. On the death of Vaus,
Bishop of Galloway, in 1508, James Beaton was
placed in that see, and next year he was translated to
the archi-episcopate of Glasgow. He now resigned
the treasurer's staff, in order that he might devote
himself entirely to his duties as a churchman. While
Archbishop of Glasgow, he busied himself in what
were then considered the most pious and virtuous
of offices, namely, founding new altarages in the
cathedral, and improving the accommodations of the
episcopal palace. He also entitled himself to more
lasting and rational praise by such public acts as the
building and repairing of bridges within the regality
of Glasgow. Upon all the buildings, both sacred
and secular, erected by him, were carefully blazoned
his armorial bearings. During all the earlier part of
his career, this great prelate seems to have lived on the
best terms with the family of Douglas, to which he
must have been indebted for his first preferment. In
1515, when it became his duty to consecrate the
celebrated Gavin Douglas as Bishop of Dunkeld, he
testified his respect for the family by entertaining the
poet and all his train in the most magnificent manner
at Glasgow, and defraying the whole expenses of his
consecration. Archbishop Beaton was destined to
figure very prominently in the distracted period
wliich ensued upon the death of James IV. .\s too
often happens in the political scene, the violence of
faction broke up his old attachment to the Douglasses.
The Earl of Angus, chief of that house, having mar-
ried the widow of the king, endeavoured, against ilie
general sense of the nation, to obtain the supreme
power. Beaton, who was elevated by the regent
Albany to the high office of lord-chancellor, and nj--
pointed one of the governors of the kingdom durir.g
his absence in France, attached himself to tlie o; pu-
site faction of the Hamiltons, under tlie F.arl of Arran.
On the 29th of April, 1520, a convention having iitcn
called to compose the differences of the two ] artx-.
the Hamiltons appeared in military gui-e. and ,-ecii.vl
prepared to vindicate tiieir supreni.icy with the s^\ ; i.
Beaton, their chief counsellor, sat in iris liou-j a:
the bottom of the Blackfriars' Wynd. ' with .ir:r.ui:r
undcr his robes, ready, apparently, to liavc joined t!ic
forces of the Hamiltons. in tlie event ol" .t nu.-rrel.
In this crisis (iavin Douglas was (loputci hy h..-
nephcw the Karl of Angus to remonstrate with t:.e
archbishop ngain-t the hosti^ej^rei-.aration' of ii.s

' La.--.c.

loS

JAMES BEATON.

party. Beaton endeavoured to gloss over the matter,
and concluded with a solemn asseveration upon his
conscience that he knew not of it. As he spoke, he
struck his hand upon his breast, and caused the mail
to rattle under his gown. Douglas replied, with
a cutting equivoque, "Methinks, my lord, your con-
science clatters," — -as much as to say, your conscience
is unsound, at the same time that the word might
mean the undue disclosure of a secret. In the en-
suing conflict which took place upon the streets, the
Hamiltons were worsted, and Archbishop Beaton
had to take refuge in the Blackfriars' Church. Being
found there by the Douglasses, he had his rochet
torn from his back, and would have been slain on the
spot but for the interposition of the Bishop of Dun-
keld. Having with some difficulty escaped, he lived
for some time in an obscure way, till the return of the
Duke of Albany, by whose interest he was appointed,
in 1523, to the metropolitan see of St. Andrews. On
the revival of the power of the Douglasses in the
same year, he was again obliged to retire. It is said
thnt the insurrection of the Earl of Lennox, in 1525.
which ended in the triumph of the Douglasses and
the death of the earl at Linlithgow Bridge, was
stirred up by Archbishop Beaton, as a means of
emancipating the king. After this unhappy event,
the Douglasses persecuted him with such keenness
that, to save his life, he assumed the literal guise
and garb of a shepherd, and tended an actual flock
upon Bogrian-Knowe in Fife. At length, when
James V. asserted his independence of these powerful
tutors, and banished them from the kingdom, Beaton
was reinstated in all his dignities, except that of
chancellor, which was conferred upon Gavin Dun-
bar, the king's preceptor. lie henceforward resided
chiefly at St. Andrews, where, in 1527, he was in-
duced, by the persuasions of other churchmen less
mild than himself, to consent to the prosecution and
death of Patrick Hamilton, the proto-martyr of the
Scottish Refonnation. He was subsequently led on
to various severities against the reformers, but rather
through a want of power to resist the clamours of his
brethren, than any disposition to severity in his own
nature. It would appear that he latterly intrusted
much of the administration of his affairs to his less
amiable nephew. The chief employment of his latter
years was to found and endow the New College of St.
Andrews, in which design, however, he was thwarted
in a great measure by his executors, who misapplied
the greater part of his funds. He died in 1539.

BEATON, James, Archbishop of Glasgow, was
the second of the seven sons of John Beaton, or Be-
thune, of Balfour, elder brother of Cardinal Beaton.
He received the chief part of his education at Paris,
imder the care of his celebrated uncle, wlio was then
residing in the French capital .as ambassador from
James V. His first preferment in the church was to
be chanter of the cathedral of (JIasgow, under Arch-
bishop Dunbar. When his uncle attained to nearly
supreme power, he was emiiloyed by him in many
imj)ortant matters, and in 1543 succeeded him as
Abbot of Aberbr<jthick. The death of the cardinal
does not a])pear to have materially retarded the ad-
vancement of his nephew; for we find that, in 1552,
he had sufficient interest with the existing govern-
ment to receive the second place in the .Scottish
church, tiie archbishopric of (ilasgow, to which he
was consecrated at Rome. He was now one of the
most important personages in the kingdom; he en-
joyed the confidence of the governor, the Karl of Ar-
ran; iiisniece. Mar)' Beaton, oneof the " l'"our Maries,"
was the favourite of the young Queen Mary, now
residing in France; and he was also esteemed very

highly by the queen-dowager, Mary of Lorrain, who
was now aspiring to the regency. During the sub-
sequent sway of the queen regent, the Archbishop of
St. Andrews enjoyed her highest confidence. It was
to him that she handed the celebrated letter addressed
to her by John Knox, saying, with a careless air,
"Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil." In 1557,
when the marriage of the youthful Mary to the Dau-
phin of P" ranee was about to take place, James Bea-
ton, Archbishop of St. Andrews, stood the first of the
parliamentary commissioners appointed to be present
at the ceremony, and to conduct the difficult business
which was to precede it. He and his companions
executed this duty in a most satisfactory manner.
After his return in 1558 he acted as a privy-councUlor
to the queen regent, till she was unable any longer to
contend with the advancing tide of the Reformation.
In November, 1559, his former friend, the Earl of
Arran, who had now become a leading reformer,
came with a powerful retinue to Glasgow, and, to use
a delicate phrase of the time, "took order" with the
cathedral, which he cleared of all the images, placing
a garrison at the same time in the archbishop's palace.
Beaton soon after recovered his house by means of
a few French soldiers; but he speedily found that
neither he nor his religion could maintain a permanent
footing in the country.

In June, 1560, the queen regent expired, almost at
the very moment when her authority became extinct.
Her French troops, in terms of a treaty with the re-
formers, sailed next month for their native country;
and in the same ships was the Archbishop of Glasgow,
along with all the plate and records of the cathedral,
which he said he would never return till the Catholic
faith should again be triumphant in Scotland. Some
of these articles were of great value. Among the
plate, which was very extensive and rich, was a golden
image of Christ, with silver images of his twelve
apostles. Among the records, which were also very
valuable, were two chartularies, one of which had been
written in the reign of Robert HI., and was called
The Red Book of Clasgcnu. All these objects were
deposited by the archbishop in the Scots College at
Paris, where the manuscripts continued to be of use
to Scottish antiquaries up to the period of the French
Revolution, when, it is believed, they were destroyed
or dispersed. Beaton was received by Queen Mary
at Paris with the distinction due to a virtuous and
able counsellor of her late mother. On her de]3arture
next year, to assume the reins of government in
.Scotland, she left him in charge of her affairs in
France. He spent the whole of the sul)sequent part
of his life as ambassador from the .Scottish court to
his most Christian Majesty. This duty was one of
extreme delicacy during the brief reign of Queen
Mary, when the relation of the two courts was of the
most important character. Mary addressed him
frequently in her own hand, and a letter in which she
details to him the circumstances of her husband's
death is a well-known historical document.

It is not jirobable that Beaton's duty as an am-
bassador during the minority of James VI. was any-
thing but a titular honour; but that ])rince, on taking
the government into his own han<ls, did n(jt hesitate,
notwithstanding the difference of religion, to eni])loy
a statesman who had already done faithful service to
the two preceding generations. James also, in 1587.
was able to restore to him both his title and estates
as Archbishop of Glasgow — a proceeding cjuite
anomalous, when we consider that the ])rcsl)ytcrian
religion was now established in Scotland. The arch-
bishop died, April 24, 1603, in the eighty-sixth year
of his age, and a full jubilee of years from his conse-
cration. He had been ambassador to three genera-

ROBERT BEATSON JAMES BEATTIE.

109

tions of the Scottish royal family, and had seen in
France a succession of six kings, and transacted
public affairs under five of them. He also had
the satisfaction of seeing his sovereign accede to the
English throne. James learned the intelligence of
his death while on his journey to London, and im-
mediately appointed the historian Spottiswoode to
he his successor in the cathedral chair of (ilasgow.
.Vrchbishop Spottiswoode characterizes him as "a
man honourably disposed, faithful to the queen while
she lived, and to the king her son; a lover of his
country, and liberal, according to his means, to all his
countrymen." His reputation, indeed, is singularly
pure, when it is considered with what vigour he op-
posed the Reformation. He appears to have been
regarded by the opposite party as a conscientious,
however mistaken man, and to have been spared ac-
cordingly all those calumnies and sarcasms with which
party rage is apt to bespatter its opponents. Hav-
ing enjoyed several livings in France, besides the less
certain revenues of Glasgow, he died in possession
of a fortune amounting to 80,000 livres, all of which
he left to the Scots College, for the benefit of poor
scholars of Scotland — a gift so munificent, that he
was afterwards considered as the second founder of
the institution, the first having been a Bishop of
Moray, in the year 1325. Besides all this wealth, he
left an immense quantity of diplomatic papers, ac-
cumulated during the course of his legation at Paris;
which, if they had been preserved to the present time,
would unquestionably have thrown a strong light
upon the events of his time.

BEATSON, Robert, LL.D. an ingenious and
useful author, was a native of Dysart, where he was
bom in 1742. Being educated with a view to the
military profession, he obtained an ensigncy in 1756
at the commencement of the Seven Years' war. He
served next year in the expedition to the coast of
France, and afterwards, as lieutenant, in the attack
on Martinique, and the taking of Guadaloupe. In
1766 he retired on half-pay, and did not again seek
to enter into active life till the breaking out of the
American war. Having failed on this occasion to
obtain an appointment suitable to his former services,
he resolved to apply himself to another profession —
that of literature — for which he had all along had
considerable taste. His publications were: i. A
Political Index to the Histories of Great Britain and
Ireland, I vol. 8vo, 1786, of which a third edition,
in 3 volumes, was published at a late period of his
life. This work consists chiefly of accurate and
most useful lists of all the ministers and other prin-
cipal officers of the state, from the earliest time to
the period of its publication. 2. Naval and Military
J\femoirs 0/ Great Britain, from 1727 to the present
time, 3 vols. 8vo, 1790; 2d edition, 6 vols. 1S04.
3. Vu-ui of the Memorable Action of the Z^jth July,
1778, 8vo, 1 79 1. 4. Essay on the Comparative
Advantages of I'ertical and Horizontal WindmUls,
8vo, 1798. 5. Chronoloi^ical Register of both Houses
of Parliament, from 1706 to 1 807, 3 vols. 8vo, 1 807.
Also some communications to the board of agricul-
ture, of which he w.xs an honorary member. This
laborious author enjoyed in his latter years the
situation of barrack-master at Aberdeen, where, if
we are not mist.iken, he received hisden;ree of LL.D.
He died at Edinburgh, January 24, 181S.

BEATTIE, Jamfs, poet and moral philosopher,
was born on the 25th October, 1735' ^' Laurence-
kirk, then an obscure hamlet in Kincardineshire.
His father, James Beat tie, was a small sliop-keeper
in the village, and at the same time rented a little

farm in the neighlwurhood. His mother's name was
Jean Watson, and they had six children, of whom
the subject of this article was the youngest. The
father was a man of information and of character
superior to his condition, and the mother was also
a person of abilities; on the early death of her hus-
band, she carried on the business of his shop and
farm, with the assistance of her eldest son, and
thus was able to rear her family in a comfortable
manner.

Young Beattie, who, from his earliest years, was
considered a child of promise, received the rudiments
of a classical education at the parish school, which
had been taught forty years before by Ru(ldiman,
and was at this time a .seminary of considerable re-
putation. His avidity for books, which, in such a
scene might have otherwise remained unsatisfied,
was observed by the minister, who kindly admitted
him to the use of his library. From a copy of Ogil vy's
Virgil, obtained in this way, he derived his first
notions of English versification. Even at this early
period, his turn for poetry began to manifest itself,
and among his school-fellows he went by the name
of the Poet. In 1749, being fourteen years of age,
he commenced an academical course at Marischal
College, Aberdeen, and was distinguished by Pro-
fessor Blackwell as the best scholar in the Greek
class. Having entitled himself by this superiority to
a bursary, he continued at the college for three years
more, studying philosophy under the distinguished
Gerard, and divinity under Dr. Pollock. His origi-
nal destination being for the church, he read a dis-
course in the hall, which met with much commenda-
tion, but was at the same time remarked to be poetry
in prose. Before the period when he should have
taken his trials before the presbytery, he relinquished
all thoughts of the clerical profession, and settled as
school-master of the parish of Fordoun, near his
native village.

In this humble situation, Beattie spent the years
between 1753 and 1758. In the almost total want of
society, he devoted himself alternately to useful study
and to poetical recreation. It was at this period of
life his supreme delight to saunter in the fields the
livelong night, contemplating the sky, and marking
the approach of day. At a small distance from the
place of his residence, a deep and extensive glen,
finely clothed with wood, runs up into the mountains.
Thither he frequently repaired; and there several of
his earliest pieces were written. From that wild
and romantic spot he drew, as from the life, some
of the finest descriptions and most beautiful pictures
of nature that occur in his poetical compositions.
It is related that, on one occasion, having lain down
early in the morning on the bank of his favourite
rivulet, adjoining to his mother's house, he had fallen
asleep; on awaking, it was not without astonishment
that he found he had been walking in his sleep, and
that he was then at a considerable distance (about a
mile and a half) from the place where he had lain
down. On his way back to that spot, he jiassed
some labourers, and inquiring of tlicm if they had
seen him walking along, they told him tliat they
had, with his head hanging down, as if looking for
something he had lost. Such an incident, though
by no means unexamjiled, shows to what a degree
Beattie was now the creature of impulse and inuigi-
nation. He was, indeed, exactly the fanciful Ixing
whom he has described in The Minstrel. Fortun-
ately for Beattie, Mr. Garden, advocate (aftensards
Lord Gardenstone), who at that time resided in the
neighbourhooti, found him one day sitting in one of
hisfavourite haunts, employed in writing with a
pencd. On discovering that he was engaged in

JAMES BEATTIE.

the composition of poetr}', Mr. Garden became in-
terested, and soon found occasion to honour the
young bard with his friendship and patronage.
Beattie at the same time became acquainted with
Lord Monboddo, whose family seat was within the
parish.

In 1757, when a vacancy occurred in the place of
usher to the grammar-school of Aberdeen, Beattie
applied for it, and stood an examination, without
success. On the place becoming again vacant next
year, he had what he considered the good fortune to
be elected. This step was of some importance to
him, as it brought him into contact with a circle of
eminent literary and professional characters, who
then adorned the colleges of Aberdeen, and to whom
he soon made himself favourably known.

In 1760 one of the chairs in the Marischal College,
became vacant by the death of Dr. Duncan, professor
of natural philosophy. Beattie, whose ambition had
never presumed to soar to such an object, happened
to mention the circumstance in conversation, as one
of the occurrences of the day, to his friend Mr.
Arbuthnot, merchant in Aberdeen;* who surprised
him with a proposal that he should apply for the
vacant situation. With a reluctant permission from
Beattie, he e.\erted his influence with the Earl of
Errol to apply, by means of Lord Milton, to the
Duke of Argyle, who then dispensed the crown pat-
ronage of Scotland; and to the astonishment of the
subject of the application, he received the appoint-
ment. By an accommodation, however, with the
nominee to another vacant chair, he became pro-
fessor of moral instead of natural philosophy; an
arrangement suitable to the genius and qualifications
of both the persons concerned.

By this honourable appointment, Beattie found
himself, through an extraordinary dispensation of
fortune, elevated in the course of two years from the
humble and obscure situation of a country parish
schoolmaster, to a place of very high dignity in one
of the principal seats of learning in the country, where
he could give full scope to his talents, and indulge,
in the greatest extent, his favourite propensity of
communicating knowledge. His first business was
to prepare a course of lectures, which he began to
deliver to his pupils during the session of 1760-1, and
which, during subsequent years, he greatly improved.
In the discharge of his duties he was indefatigable;
not only delivering the usual lectures, but taking
care, by frequent recapitulations and public examina-
tions, to impress upon the minds of his auditors the
great and important doctrines which he taught.

So early as the year 1756 Dr. Beattie had occasion-
ally sent poetical contributions to iha Scots Magazi/ie
from his retirement at Fordoun. Some of these,
along with others, he now arranged in a small
volume, which was published at London, 1760, and
dedicated to the Earl of Errol, his recent benefactor.
His Orii^inal rocins and Translatio7u — such was the
title of the volume — made him favourably known to
the public as a poet, and encouraged him to further
exertions in that branch of composition. He also
studied verse-making as an art, and in 1762 wrote his
Essay on Poetry, which was published in 1 776, along
with the fiuarlo edition of his Essay on Tnitli. In
1 763 he visited London from curiosity, and in 1 765 he
jjubiished a poem of considerable length, but unfor-
tunate design, under the title of The Jndi^ment of
Paris, which threatened to be as fatal to his poetical
career, as its subject had been to the Trojan state.
In 1766 he published an enlarged edition of his

' Father to Sir William Arbuthnot, I'art,, who was lorj-
provoat of Edinburgh at tlic vi^it of Gcorjji; IV. in JS22.

poems, containing among other compositions The
yudgtnent of Pans; but this poem he never after-
wards reprinted. His object was to make the
classical fable subservient to the cause of virtue, by
personifying wisdom, ambition, and pleasure in the
characters of three goddesses, an idea too meta-
physical to be generally liked, and which could scarcely
be compensated by the graces of even Beattie's muse.

Gray, the author of the Elegy in a Country Clnirch-
yard, visited Scotland in the autumn of 1765, and
lived for a short time at Cilamniis Castle with the Earl
of Strathmore. Beattie, whose poetical genius was
strongly akin to that of Gray, wrote to him, intreat-
ing the honour of an interview; and this was speedily
accomplished by an invitation for Dr. Beattie to
Glammis Castle, where the two poets laid the founda-
tion of a friendship that was only interrupted by the
death of Gray in 1771.

Some time previous to September, 1766, Beattie
commenced a poem in the Spenserian stanza; a de-
scription of verse to which he was much attached,
on account of its harmony, and its admitting of so
many fine pauses and diversified terminations. The
subject was suggested to him by the dissertation on
the old minstrels, which was prefixed to Dr. Percy's
P cliques of Ancient English Poetry, then just pub-
lished. In May, 1767, he informs his friend Black-
lock at Edinburgh, that he wrote 150 lines of this
poem some months before, and had not since added
a single stanza. His hero was not then even bom,
though in the fair way of being so; his parents being
described and married. He proposed to continue
the poem at his leisure, with a description of the
character and profession of his ideal minstrel; but
he was wofully cast down by the scantiness of the
poetical taste of the age.

On the 28th of June, 1767, Dr. Beattie was mar-
ried, at Aberdeen, to Miss Mary Dun, the only
daughter of Dr. James Dun, rector of the grammar-
school of that city. The heart of the poet had
previously been engaged in honourable affection to
a Miss Mary Lindsay, whom, so late as the year 1823,
the writer of this memoir heard recite a poem written
by Beattie in her praise, the lines of which com-
menced with the letters of her name in succession.
The venerable lady was the widow of a citizen of
Montrose, and in extreme though healthy old age.

At this period infidelity had become fashionable
to a great extent in Scotland, in consequence of the
tr/a/ which attended the publication of Hume's meta-
physical treatises. Attempts had been made Ijv
Drs. Reid and Campbell, in res})ective publications,
to meet the arguments of the illustrious sceptic; but
it was justly remarked by the friends of religion, that
the treatises of these two individuals assumed too
much of that deferential tone towards the majesty of
Mr. Hume's intellect and reputation, which was to
be complained of in society at large, and no doubt
was one of the causes why his sceptical notions had
become so fashionable. It occurred to Dr. Beattie,
and he was encouraged in the idea by his frientls
Dr. Gregory, Sir William Forbes, and other zealous
adherents of Christianity, that a work treating I lunic
a little more roughly, and not only answering him
with argument, but assailing him and his followers
with ridicule, might meet the evil more extensively,
and be more successful in bringing back the jhUjIIc
to a due sense of religion. .Such was the origin tif
his Essay on Tnitli, which was finished for the press
in autumn, 1 769.

It is curious that this essay, so powerful as a
defence of religion, was only brought into the woild
by means of a kind of ])ious fraud. The manuscrijH
was conunitled to Sir VN'illiam Forbes and Mr.

JAMES BEATTIE.

Arbuthnot, at Edinburgh, with an injunction to dis-
pose of it to any bookseller who would pay a price
for it, so as to insure its having the personal interest
of a tradesman in pushing it forward in the world.
Unfortunately, however, the publisher to whom these
gentlemen applied, saw so little prospect of profit in
a work on the unfashionable side of the argument,
that he positively refused to bring it forth unless at
the ri^k of the author; a mode to which it was
certain that Dr. Beattie would never agree. "Thus,"
says Sir William Forbes, "there was some danger
of a work being lost, the publication of which, we
flattered ourselves, would do much good in the
world.

"In this dilemma it occurred to me," continues
Beattie's excellent biographer, "that we might,
without much artifice, bring the business to an easy
conclusion by our own interposition. We therefore
resolved that we ourselves should be the purchasers,
at a sum with which we knew Ur. Beattie would be
well satisfied, as the price of the first edition. But
it was absolutely necessary that the business should
be glossed over as much as possible, otherwise we
had reason to fear that he would not consent to our
taking on us a risk which he himself had refused to
run.

"I therefore wrote him (nothing surely but the
truth, although, I confess, not the whole truth), that
tlie manuscript was sold for fifty guineas, which
I remitted to him by a bank-bill; and I added that
we had stipulated with the bookseller who was to
print the book that we should be partners in the
publication. On such trivial causes do things of
considerable moment often depend; for had it not
been for this interference of ours in this somewhat
ambiguous manner, perhaps the Essay on Truth, on
which all Dr. Beattie's future fortunes hinged, might
never have seen the light."

In the prosecution of his design, Dr. Beattie has
treated his subject in the following manner: he first
endeavours to trace the different kinds of evidence
and reasoning up to their first principles; with a view
to ascertain the standard of truth, and explain its
immutability. Pie shows, in the second place, that
his sentiments on this head, how inconsistent soever
with the genius of scepticism, and with the principles
and practice of sceptical writers, are yet perfectly
consistent with the genius of true philosophy, and
with the practice and principles of those whom all
acknowledge to have been the most successful in the
investigation of truth; concluding with some infer-
ences or rules, by which the most important fallacies
of the sceptical philosophers may be detected by
every person of common sense, even though he
should not possess acuteness of metaphysical know-
ledge sufficient to qualify him for a logical confuta-
tion of them. In the third place, he answers some
objections, and makes some remarks, by way of
estimate of scepticism and sceptical writers.

The essay appeared in May, 1770, and met with
the most splendid success. It immediately became
a shield in the hands of the friends of religion, where-
with to intercept and turn aside the hitherto resist-
less shalts of the sceptics. A modern metaphysician
may perliaps find many tlaws in the work; but, at
the time of its ]iublicati()n, it was received as a com-
plete and triumphant rel'utation of all that had been
advanced on the other side. Under favour of the
ivlat which attended the publication, religion again
raisc'l its head, and for a time infidelity was not
nearly so fashionable as it had been.

.\fter getting this ariluous business off his mind,
I'eattie returned to his I'ng Spenserian poem, and
in 1 77 1 appeared the first part of The ^Tlu!;\■.',

without his name. It was so highly successful that
he was encouraged to republish this, along with
a second part, in 1774; when his name appeared
in the title-page. "Of all his poetical works. The
Mtnstrd is, beyond all question, the best, whether
we consider the plan or the execution. The language
is extremely elegant, the versification harmonious;
it exhibits the richest poetic imager)', with a delight-
ful flow of the most sublime, delicate, and pathetic
sentiment. It breathes the spirit of the purest
virtue, the soundest philosophy, and the most ex-
quisite taste. In a word, it is at once highly con-
ceived and admirably finished."' Lord Lyttleton
thus expressed his approbation of the poem — one of
the most wannly conceived conijiliments that was
ever perhaps paid by a poet to his fellow: "I read
The iMtnstrel with as much rapture as jioelry, in her
sweetest, noblest charms, ever raised in my mind.
It seemed to me, that my once most beloved minstrel,
Thomson, was come down from heaven, refined l>y
the converse of purer spirits than those he lived with
here, to let me hear him sing again the beauties of
nature and finest feelings of virtue, not with human
but with angelic strains!" It is to be regretted that
Beattie never completed this poem. He originally
designed that the hero should be employed in the
third canto in rousing his countr}Tnen to arms for
defence against a foreign invasion, and that, over-
powered and banished by this host, he should go
forth to other lands in his proper character of a
wandering minstrel. It must always be recollected,
in favour of this poem, that it was the first of any
length, in pure English, which had been published
by a Scottish writer in his own country — so late has
been the commencement of this department of our
literature.

Beattie visited London a second time in 1771,
and, as might be expected from his increased reputa-
tion, entered more largely into literarj' society than
on the former occasion. Among those who honoured
him with their notice, was Dr. Johnson, who had
been one of the warmest admirers of the Essay on
Truth. In 1773 he paid another visit to the metro-
polis, along with his wife, and was received into
a still wider and more eminent circle than before.
On this occasion the university of O.vford conferred
upon him an honoraiy degree of Doctor of Laws.

The chief object of this tour was to secure a pro-
vision which his friends had led him to expect from
the government, in consideration of his services in
the cause of religion. Many plans were proposed
by his friends for obtaining this object. A bishop is
believed to have suggested to the king, that the
author of the Essav on Truth might be introduced
to the English church, and advanced according to
his merits; to which the king, however, is said to
have slily replied, that as .Scotland abounded most
in infidels, it would be best for the general in-
terests of religion that he should be kejH there.
George III., who had read and admired Beattie s
book, and whose whole mind ran in favour of virtue
and religion, suggested himself the more direct j'lnii
of granting him a pension of C~oo a ycp.r. \\h:cii
was accordingly carried into effect. The km;; aI>M
honoured Dr. Beattie with his j articular ni.tice ,it
a /cT'.v, and further granted him the f.n-'ur of a:i 'v.\-
terview in his private apartmciits r.t Kew 1 -r vv-
wards of an hour. The .agreeable C'Jnvcr^.•.t; 11 an i
unassuming maimer^ of Dr. l!c.-.;t;e a: ;'t.ar t>)i;a\c
not only made a mo^t favi^uraMc ini; rc-.-i":! \:\-^:\
the king .and ([ueen — for her ni.i;c.-ty .li- > wa- ] re-_
sent at t!iis interview — but ui;"n evc:-y ir. ■.■:■.;! lt ..1

JAMES BEATTIE.

that lofty circle of society to which he was intro-
duced.

Even after he had been thus provided for, several
dignified clergymen of the Church of England con-
tinued to solicit him to take orders; and one bishop
went so far as directly to tempt him with the offer
of a rectorate worth ;^500 a year. He had no dis-
inclination to the otYice of a clergyman, and he
decidecily preferred the government and worsliip
of the English cliurch to the Presbyterian system
of his own country. But he could not be induced
to take sucli a reward for his efforts in behalf of
religion, lest his enemies might say that he had
never contemplated any loftier principle than that
of bettering his own circumstances. Nearly about
the same time, he further proved the total absence
of a mercenary tinge in his character, by refusing to
be promoted to the chair of moral philosophy in the
university of Edinburgh. His habits of life were
now, indeed, so completely associated with Aber-
deen and its society, that he seems to have con-
templated any change, however tempting, with a
degree of pain.

About this time, some letters passed between him
and Dr. Priestley, on occasion of an attack made
by the latter on the Essay on Truth. In his corres-
pondence with this ingenious but petulant adversary.
Dr. Beattie shows a great deal of candour and
dignity. He had at first intended to reply, but
this intention he appears afterwards to have dropped:
"Dr. Priestley," says he, "having declared that he
will answer whatever I may publish in my own
vindication, and being a man who loves bustle and
book-making, he wishes above all things that I
should give him a pretext for continuing the dispute.
To silence him by force of argument, is, I know,
impossible."

In the year 17S6, Beattie took a keen interest in
favour of a scheme then agitated, not for the first
time, to unite the two colleges of Aberdeen. In the
same year, he projected a new edition of Addison's
prose works, with a biographical and critical preface
to the extent of half a volume, in wliich he meant
to show the peculiar merits of the style of Addison,
as well as to point out liistorically theclianges which
the English language has undergone from time to
time, and the liazard to which it is exposed of being
debased and corrupted by modern innovations. He
was reluctantly compelled by the state of his healtli
to retrench the better part of this scheme. The
works of .Addison were publislied under his care, in
1790, by Messrs. Creecli and Sibbald, booksellers,
Edinhurgli, but he could only give Tickell's Life,
together with some extracts from Dr. Johnson's AV-
niarks on AdJtsons Prose, adding a few notes of liis
own, to make up any material deficiency in Tickell's
narrative, and illustrating Johnson's critique by a
few occasional annotations. Though these addi-
tions to his original stock of materials are very
slight, th; admirer of Addison is much gratified by
some new information which lie was ignorant of
before, and to which Dr. Beattie has given a degree
of authenticity, by adhering, even in this instance,
to his general jjractice of putting his name to every-
thing he wrote.

In 17S7 Dr. TJeattie made apjilication to the
Mari-.chal College, while the jiroject of the union
was still pending, desiring that his eldest son, James
Hay Beattie, then in his twentieth year, should Ite
recommended to the crown as his as'-istant and suc-
cessor in the chair of moral philosopliy. The letter
in which this apjilication was made, sets fijrth the
cxtraor linary qualifications of his son, with a delight-
ful mixture of delicacy and warmth. The young

man was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar;
wrote and talked beautifully in the latter language,
as well as in English; and, to use the language of
ids father, the best of his genius lay entirely towards
theology, classical learning, morals, poetry, and
criticism. The college received the application with
much respect, and, after a short delay on account
of the business of the union, gave a cordial sanction
to the proposal.

Unfortunately for the peace of Dr. Beattie's latter
years, his son, while in the possession of the highest
intellectual qualilications, and characterized by every
virtue that could be expected from his years, was
destined by the inherent infirmity of his constitution
for an early death. After his demise, which hap-
pened on the 19th of November, 1790, when he had
just turned two and twenty. Dr. Beattie published
a small collection of his writings, along with an ela-
borate preface, entering largely into the character
and qualifications of the deceased. In this, he was
justified by the admiration which he heard every-
where expressed of the character and intellect of
his son; but, as posterity appears to have reduced
the prodigy to its proper limits, which were nothing
wonderful, it is unnecessary to bring it further into
notice.

Dr. Beattie bore the loss of his son with an ap-
pearance of fortitude and resignation. Yet, although
his grief was not loud, it was deep. He said, in a
subsequent letter, alluding to a monument which he
had erected for his son, "I often dream of the grave
that is under it : I saw, with some satisfaction, on a
late occasion, that it is very deep, and capable of
holding my coffin laid on that which is already in
it;" words that speak more eloquently of the grief
which this event had fixed in the heart of the writer,
than a volume could have done.

Another exemplification of the rooted sorrow
which this event planted in the mind of Beattie,
occurs in a letter written during a visit in England,
in the subsequent summer. Speaking of the com-
memoration music, which was performed in West-
minster Abbey, "by the greatest band of musicians
that ever were brought together in this country," he
tells that the state of his health could not permit
him to be present. Then recollecting his son's
accomplishment as a player on the organ, he adds,
"Perhaps this was no loss to me. liven the organ
of Durham Cathedral was too much for my feelings;
for it brought too powerfully to my remembrance
another organ, much smaller indeed, but more inter-
esting, which I can never hear any more."

In 1790 Dr. ]5eattie published the first volume
of his Elcineitts of Aloral Science, the second volume
of which did not make its appearance till 1793.
He had, in 1776, published a series of Essays on
poetry and music, on laughable and ludicrous com-
])osition, and on the utility of classical learning. In
1 783 had appeared Dissertations, Moral and Critical;
and in 17S6 a small tract entitled The Evidetices
of the Christian Relii^io)i brief y and plainly stated.
All of these minor productions originally formcil
part of the course of jnelections which he read from
his chair in the university; his aim in their pid)lica-
tion being "to intu'e young minds to habits of atten-
tive observation; to guard them against the influence
of bad i-jrincijjles; and to set before them such views
of nature, and such plain and practical truths, as
might at once imjirove the heart and the understand-
ing, and amuse and elevate the fancy." His Jile-
ments of Moral Science was a summary of the whole
of that course of lectures, a little enlarged in the
iloctrinal parts, with the addition of a few illustrative
examples. In a certain degree, this work may be

JAMES BEATTIE.

"3

considered as a text-book ; it is one, however, so
copious in its extent, so luminous in its arrangement
and language, and so excellent in the sentiments it
everywhere inculcates, that if the profound meta-
physician and logician do not find in it that depth
of science which they may expect to meet with in
other works of greater erudition, the candid inquirer
after truth may rest satisfied that, if he has studied
tiiese Elements with due attention, he will have laid
a solid foundation on which to build all the know-
ledge of the subject necessary for the common pur-
poses of life. Of such of the lectures as had already
appeared in an extended shape, under the name of
Essays, particularly those on the theory of language,
and on memory and imagination. Dr. Beattie has
made this abridgment as brief as was consistent with
any degree of perspicuity; while he bestowed no less
than seventy pages on his favourite topic, the aboli-
tion of the slave-trade, and the subject of slavery
connected with it.

While delighting the world with the quick suc-
cession and variety of his productions. Dr. Beattie
was himself nearly all the while a prey to the severest
private sufferings. Mrs. lieattie had unfortunately
inherited from her mother a tendency to madness.
Though this did not for a considerable time break
out into open insanity, yet in a few years after their
marriage it showetl itself in caprices and follies,
which embittered every hour of her husband's life.
Dr. Beattie tried for a long time to conceal her dis-
order from the world, and if possible, as he has
been heard to say, from himself; but at last, from
whim, caprice, and melancholy, it broke out into
downright frenzy, which rendered her seclusion
from society absolutely necessary. During every
stage of her illness, he watched and cherished her
with the utmost tenderness and care ; using ever\-
means at first that medicine could furnish for her
recovery, and afterwards, when her condition was
found to be perfectly hopeless, j)rocuring for her, in
an asylum at Musselburgli, every accommodation
and comfort that could tend to alleviate her suffer-
ings. "When I reflect," says Sir William P'orbes,
"on the many sleepless nights and anxious days
which he experienced from Mrs. Beattie's malady,
and think of the unwearied and unremitting attention
he paid to her, during so great a number of years
in that sad situation, his character is exalted in my
mind to a degree which may be equalled, but I am
sure never can be excelled, and makes the fame of
the poet and the philosopher fade from my remem-
brance."

The pressure of this calamity — slow but certain —
tlie death of his eldest son, and the continued decline
of his health, made it necessary, in the session of
I793'4» tli^t he should be assisted in the duties of
his class. From that period till 1797, when he
finally relinquished his professorial duties, he was
aided by Mr. deorge Glennie, his relation and pupil.
lie experienced an additional calamity in 1796, by
the sudden death of his only remaining son, ^Ion-
tague, a youth of eiglUecn, less learned than his
brotlier, but of still more amiable manners, and
wliom he had eloigned for the luiglish church.
This latter event mdnnged the mind of Beattie, who,
it may be remarked, had always lieen greatly depen-
dent on the society, and even on the assistance, of
his children. The care of their education, in which
he was supposed to be only over-indulgent, had been
his chief employment for many years. This last
e'<'ent, by rendering him childless, dissolved nearlv
the last remaining tie which bound him to the world,
and left him a miserable wreck U]ion the shores of
lile. Many days had not elapsed after the death of

VOL. I.

Montague Beattie, ere he began to display symptoms
of a decayed intellect, in an almost total loss of
memory respecting his son. He would search
through the whole house for him, and then say to
his niece and housekeeper, Mrs. Glennie, "You
may think it strange, but I must ask you, if I have
a son, and where he is." This lady would feel her-
self under the painful necessity of bringing to his re-
collection the death-bed sufferings of his son, which
always restored him to reason. And he would then,
with many tears, express his thankfulness that he
had no child, saying, with allusion to the malady
they might have derived from their mother, "How
could 1 have borne to see their elegant minds
mangled with madness?" When he looked for the
last time on the dead body of his son, and thought
of the separation about to take place between him-
self and the last being that connected him with this
sublunary scene, he said, "Now, I have done with
the world 1" After this, he never bent his mind
again to study, never touched the violoncello, on
which he used to be an excellent and a fretjuent
player, nor answered the letters of his friends, except
perhaps a very few.

In March, 1797, Dr. Beattie became completely
crippled with rheumatism, and in the beginning of
1799 he experienced a stroke of palsy, which for
eight days so affected liis speech that he could not
make himself understood, and even forgot several
of the most material words of every sentence. At
different periods after this, he had several returns
of the same afflicting malady; the last, in October,
1802, deprived himaltogetherof the power of motion.
He lingered for ten months in this humiliating situa-
tion, but was at length relieved from all his suffer-
ings by the more kindly stroke of death, August 18,
1S03. He expired without the least appearance of
suffering. His remains were deposited close to those
of his two sons in the ancient cemetery of St. Nicolas,
and were marked soon after by a monument, for
which Dr. James Gregory of Edinburgh supplied an
elegant inscription.

The eminent rank which Dr. Beattie holds as a
Christian moral philosopher is a sufticient testimony
of the public approbation of his larger literary efforts.
It may, however, be safely predicted that his repu-
tation will, after all, centre in his Minstrel, which is
certainly his most finished work, and, everything con-
sidered, the most pleasing specimen of his intellect.

The mind of Beattie is so exactly identified with
his works, and is so undisguisedly depicted in them,
that when his works are described, so also is his
character. His whole life was spent in one continued
series of virtuous duties. His piety was pure and
fer\'ent; his affection for his friends enthusiastic; his
benevolence unwearying; and the whole course of his
life irreproachable. The only fault which his bio-
grapher, Sir William Forbes, could find in the whole
composition of his character, was one of a contingent
and temporar)' nature: he l>ecame. towards the end of
his life, a littfe irritable by continued application^ to
meLaphysical controversy. To a very correct and tine
taste in'poetry he added the rare accomplislimcnt of
an acquaintance, to a considerable extent, with l»nh
the sister arts of painting and music: hi.-' ])rac;icc in
drawing never went, iiuleed, beyond an occa.-ioiial
grotescpie sketch of some friend, for the aniu>(. mi-n:
of a soci;il hour. In music he was niuio liccply
skilled, being not only able to take jiariin ; r.\ate
concerts on the violoncello, but ca]>al)!eoi api^rcciat-
ing the music of the vcrv- highe-t iiia>tcr> Iit every
other instrument. In his jx-rson, he was o! tlie
middle height, though not elegantly, yet not awk-
wardly fonned, but with something of a il^uch in his

114

ANDREW BELL.

gait. His eyes were black and piercing, with an
expression of sensibility somewhat bordering on
melancholy, except when engaged in cheerful con-
versation and social intercourse with his friends,
when they were exceedingly animated. Such was
"the MiustreL"

BELL, Andrew, D.D., author of the UfaJms
System of Education, was born at St. Andrews, in
1753, and educated at the university of that place.
The circumstances of his early life, and even the date
of his entering into holy orders, are not known; but
it is stated that he was remarkable in youth for tlie
exemplary manner in which he fulfilled every public
and private duty. After having spent some time in
America, we tind him, in 1786, officiating as one of
the ministers of Su Mary's, at Madras, and one of
the chaplains of Fort St. George.

In that year the directors of the East India Com-
pany sent out orders to Madras that a seminary
should be established there for tlie education and
maintenance of the orphans and distressed male
children of the European military. The proposed
institution was at first limited to the support of a
hundred orphans: half the expense was defrayed by
the Company, and half by voluntary subscriptions;
and the Madras government appropriated Egmore
Redoubt for the use of the establishment. The
superintentlence of this asylum was undertaken by
Dr. Hell, who, having no object in view but the
gratification of his benevolence, refused the salary of
1200 pagodas (/'4S0) which was attached to it.
"Here," he reasoned with himself, "is a field for
a clergyman to animate his exertion, and encourage
his diligence. Here his success is certain, and will
be in proportion to the al)ility he shall discover, tlie
labour he shall bestow, and the means he shall em-
ploy. It is by instilling principles of religion and
morality into the minds of the young that he can
best accomplish the ends of his ministry: it is by
forming them to habits of diligence, industry, veracity,
and hone.->ty, and by instructing them in useful know-
ledge, that he can best promote their individual in-
terest, and serve t!ie stale to wliich they belong —
two purposes which cannot, in sound policy, or even
in reality, exist apart.

With these feelings, and with this sense of duty.
Dr. Bell began his task. He had to work upon the
mor,t unpromising materials; but the difficulties he
had to encounter led to that improvement in educa-
tion with which his name is connected. Failing to
retain the services of properly qualified ushers, he
resorted to tlie expedient of conducting his school
througli tlie medium of the scholars themselves. It
is in the mode of conducting a school by means of
mutual instruction that the discovery of Dr. Bell
con>i-,ts; and its value, as an abbreviation of the me-
chanical part of teaching, .and where large numbers
were to be taught economically, could not be easily
over-estimated at the time, altliough later education-
ali-^ts have improved upon the ])lan; and the Madras
system is now le^s in use than formerly. The first
new practice which Dr. IScll introduced into his
school was that of tcacliing the letters by making the
pupils trace tiiem in sand, as he had seen children do
in a .Malaiiar school. The next im]novement was
the practice of sy]hd)ic Tea<lii:i;. Tlie child, after he
had learned to read and spell niono^vllables, was not
allowed to pronounce two >yl!:il)le-. till he acquired
by long practice a ])errecl jireci-ion. I'loni the com-
mencement of his experiment lie made the scholars,
as far as jiossible, do everything for themselves: they
ruled their own pa])er, maile their own ]>eiis, iVc,
with the direction only of their teaelier. The maxim

of the school was, that no boy could do anything right
the first time, but he must learn when he first set
about it, by means of his teacher, so as to be able to
do it himself ever afterwards. Every boy kept a
register of the amount of work which he performed,
so that his diligence at different times might be com-
pared. There was also a black book, in which all
offences were recorded: this was examined once
a week; and Dr. Bell's custom, in almost every case
of ill-behaviour, was to make the boys themselves
judges of the offender. He never had reason, he
says, to think their decision partial, biassed, or un-
just, or to interfere with their award otherwise than
to mitigate or remit the punishment, when he thought
the formality of the trial and of the sentence was
sufficient to produce the effect retpiired. But the
business of the teachers was to preclude punishment
by preventing faults; and so well was this object
attained, that for months together it was not found
necessary to inflict a single jninishment.

An annual saving of not less than £c)(x) upon the
education and support of two hundred boys ^\as pro-
duced in the institution at INIadras by Dr. Bell's
regidations and improvements. This, however, he
justly regarded as an incidental advantage: his grand
aim was to redeem the children from the stigma
under which they laboured, and the fatal effect which
that stigma produced, and to render them good
subjects, good men, and good Christians. After
superintending the school for seven years, he found
it necessary for his health to return to Europe.
The directors of the charity passed a resolution for
providing him a passage in any ship which he might
wish to sail in, declaring at the same time that,
under "the wise and judicious regulations which he
had established, the institution had been brought to a
degree of perfection and promising utility far exceed-
ing what the most sanguine hopes could have sug-
gested at the time of its establishment; and that
he was entitled to their fullest approbation for his
zealous and disinterested conduct." The language
in which Dr. Bell spoke of the institution, on leaving
it, will not be read without emotion by those who are
capable of appreciating what is truly excellent in
human nature. During seven years which he had
devoted to this office, he had "seen the vices incident
to the former situation of these orphans gratlually
vanishing, their morals and conduct approaching
nearer and nearer every year to what he wished them
to be, and the character of a race of children in
a manner changed." "This numerous family," said
he, "I have long regarded as my own. These
children are, indeed, mine by a thousand ties. I have
for them a parental affection, which has grown upon
me every year. For them I have niatle such sacri-
fices as parents have not always occasion to make for
their children; and the nearer the jK-riod njiproaches
when 1 must separate myself from them, the more
I feel the pang I shall suffer in tearing myself from
this charge, and the anxious thoughts I shall throw
back u]K)n these children when 1 shall cease to be
their protector, their guide, and their instructor."
Eleven years after he had left India, Dr. Bell re-
ceived a letter, signed by forty-four of these inijiils,
exi:>ressing, in the strongest terms, their gratitude for
the instruction and care which he had bestowed
upon them in childhoi"!.

(~)n his arrival in Europe, Dr. Bell pulili>lu(l, in
1797, a ])amphlcl, entitled .-/;/ J-lxpcrimcnl i/i l-Alnca-
f/on made at the Male Asylum of Madras : su;e:;^esliir.:;
a System by vhich a School or Family may teae/i itself
uuiler the Snperiutoidcncc of the Master or J\treul.
The first ])lace in I'^ngland \\here the s_\sfeni \\ai
adoj)ted was the charity school of .St. llodolph's,

ANDREW BELL BEN7AMIX BELL.

I'S

Aldgate. Dr. Bri!2;gs, then of Kendal, the second
who profited by Dr. Bell's discovery, introduced it
into the Kendal schools of industry. These occur-
rences took place in 1798. In 1801 the system was
fully and successfully acted upon in the schools of the
society for hettering the condition of the poor.

In 1803 Mr. Josei)h Lancaster first appeared before
the public. He published a pamphlet with the fol-
hjwing title •.—Improvetneiits in Education, as it rcsptxts
the IiidtislrioHs Classes of the Community; containini;
a sfurrt Account 0/ its Present State, Hints toauards its
Improi'cment, and a Detail of some Practical Experi-
ments conducive to that end. "The institution," he
says, "which a benevolent Providence has been
pleased to make me tlie happy instrument of bringing
into usefulness, was begun in the year 1798. The
intention was to afford the children of mechanics,
iVc, instniction in reading, writing, and arithmetic,
at about half the usual price." Tlie peculiarity of his
plan seems to have consisted chiefly in introducing
])rizes and badges of merit, together with a mode of
teaching spelling, which was said to economize time
and trouble: he also called in the assistance of boys,
as monitors. In his pamphlet of 1803 he freely
accords to Bell the priority of the mutual system,
acknowledging also that the jjublished account of it
had furnished him with several useful hints. Even-
tually, Mr. Lancaster put forward a claim, obviously
unfounded, to be considered the sole inventor of the
system. One of his advertisements in the newspapers
was thus introduced: — "Joseph Lancaster, of the
Free School, Borough Road, London, havinginvented,
under the blessing of divine Providence, a new and
mechanical system of education for the use of schools,
feels anxious to disseminate the knowledge of its
advantages through the United Kingdom. By this
system, parado.xical as it may appear, above looo
children may be taught and governed by one master
only." And on another occasion he writes: — "I stand
forward before the public, at the bar of mankind, to
the present, and for the future ages, avowing myself
the inventor of the British or Royal Lancasterian
.System." — (Morning J'ost, 4th .September.) Again:
"I submit the plan, original as it is, to the country.
The same cannot be found in any other work unless
copied or pirated." — (Preface to edition of iSoS. )

But however unfounded Lancaster's claim to origin-
ality may be, tliere can be no doubt that, through his
exertions chiet]y, the system was extensively reduced
to practice in England. Belonging to the sect of
(Quakers — a body whose exertions in the cause of
]ihilanthropy are universally known — he did not
ai)ply to them in vain for pecuniary support and per-
sonal exertion. Lancasterian schools were rapidly
est.ablished in all parts of the kingdom.

Dr. Bell lived long enough to witness the intro-
duction of his system into 12,973 national schools,
educating 900,000 of the children of his linglish
countrymen, and to know that it was employed ex-
ton-ively in almost every other civilized countiy.
lie ac'iuiro 1 in later life the ilignity of a prebendar\-
of \Vc-tinin>ter, and was master of Sherborn liospitaf,
Durham. He was also a member of the Asiatic
Society, .and of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
He emiiloyed hini.--elf during his latter years in writ-
ing S'jvcral works on e<iucatinn, among which the
mo>t valu.ilile were, />;<• /•.'/<;;/.••;/ A- o/' fintion, 7>ir
English S.-/':,\h'. and a Fr::/ MtiiiKa! of Mutual Iii-
strucl:o)! and />:s-;p.'.n.: The evening of his jiious
and useful life \\a> snent at t'heUenham, in the jn'ac-
tice of every soci.il ami di>nie-.!ic virtue. Previouslv
to his death, lie bestowed /.'i20,ooo, throe percent'.
St >ek, fnf tlie piirpi )~-_' oi" t'.;ii<iii\4 r.ii a'.-,iile;ny on nn
extensive and libenil ;,cale in lu^ native c.lv. He

also l)equeathed a considerable sum for purposes
of education in Edinburgh; which, however, to the
everlasting disgrace of the individuals intrusted with
the public affairs of that city at the time, was com-
promised among the general funds of that corpora-
tion a few months before its bankruptcy.

Dr. l{ell died on the 27th of January, 1 832, in the
eightieth year of his age, and was buried in West-
minster Abbey, the .'\rclibishop of Canterbury and
the Bishop of London acting as chief mourners.

BELL, Bknjamin, a <listinguishcd surgical author,
was born in Dumfries in 1749. He received an ex-
cellent classical education at the grammar-school of
that town, under Dr. Chajiman, the rector. The
property of Blackett House, in Dumfriesshire, hav-
ing devolved to him on the death of his grandfather,
he gave a remarkable instance of generosity bv dis-
posing of it, and applying the proceeds in educating
himself and the younger branches of the family — four-
teen in number.

Mr. Bell had early made choice of medicine as
a profession, and accordingly he was bound a]ipren-
tice to Mr. Hill, surgeon in Dumfries, whose practice
was in that quarter very extensive. It was a dis-
tinguishing feature in Mr. Bell's character, that what-
ever he had once engaged in was prosecuted with
extreme ardour and assiduity. He therefore went
through the dnidgery and fatigue necessarily con-
nected with the detail of a surgeon-apothecar)'s shop
with the greatest spirit. He, by degrees, materially
assisted his master by attending his patients — tu
whom his correct behaviour, unfailing good humour,
and agreeable manners recommended him in the
most powerful manner. He repaired to Edinburgii
in 1766, entered himself as a member of the univer-
sity, and set himself, with the most serious applica-
tion, to the prosecution of his medical studies. The
Edinburgh medical school had just sprung into notice,
and was beginning to make very rapid strides to its
present eminence. The first and second Monro had
already given evident tokens of the most distinguished
genius. The first had now relinquished, in favour
of his equally skilful son, the business of the ana-
tomical theatre, and only occasionally delivered
clinical lectures in the infirmary. Mr. Bells ardour
in the study of anatomy, in all its branches, was
tmabated. As he jirojiosed to practise surgen.', he
was well aware that eminence in that department of
the profession could only be arrived at by persever-
ing industry. He was appointed house-surgeon to
the Royal Infirmaiy, which atYorded him every ojijior-
tunily of improvement. It wa> here that he laid tlie
foundation of that superior adroitness and dexterity
which so peculiarly characterized him in the many
hazardous but successful operations which he was
called to perform.

Though Mr. Bell was more ]\articularly designed
for the profession of a surgeon, he neglected no de-
]iartment of medicine. Dr. black, who<e discnerns
formed a new era in tlie science of chomi-lry. luid
been removed from Clia<go\v to Ivlinbur^li il;:ri;:g
the year in which Mr. I'jell entered the i:i;:vLr-:;} .
His lectures and ex]")erin''.ent> prnwii geixr.".::;. .'1-
tractive. and ]iowerruilv intere>teii tile ir.in i ot I'--.:.
Dr. C'ullen was ]inife->or of tiie ii.-tituie^ ■ : n.i. .i-
cinc, and hi^ ori:_;iiial genius excited ll;e gri. r.".'- -'. ."r-
douranmng-t tile .-I'l'.'ien!--. Tlie ]'iM^;-i_e "l i.:r ■.. .::c
wa- taii;_:lil liy I >i-. J.'li!i (iivg' ry. :^r: i !■■:.■.:;. i ;. I 'r.
jnhn Hope. ' d'lie-"e were t!!e j.r :'..-- ; - v i. ::: Mr.
bell attended, .nn.l it riit-t i'e e-: ;"---: \ ti . t l::ey
^vere men nt i!i~t;!iL;'^-i'''d t '!■■■:'■-. :'■ •.\ '' - ■■ ti;!''^
no dili^/cnt sti; !ent eu;:id l.-ti.n ^. .1:. - t;t ,L.:\.;.j, \^r\

ii6

SIR CHARLES BELL.

Mr. Bell had resolved, in 1770, to visit Paris and
London — the two great schools for surgical practice.
Before doing so, however, he passed the examinations
at Surgeons' Hall, and was admitted a member of the
Royal College of Surgeons, Edinburgh. In those
great cities he remained nearly two years, assiduously
improving himself in surgery. Returning to his native
country in 1772, he commenced business in Edin-
burgh. Eew came better prepared than he did for
the practice of surgery. His education was liberal
and extensive. His appearance was much in his
favour. His address was good, his manner com-
posed and sedate. Mr. Bell had early formed the
])lan of composing a system of surgery — and this he
at last accomplished. He did not jiublish the whole
work at once; but in the year 1778, about six years
after he had finally settled in Edinl)urgh, and become
established in practice, the first volume was given to
the world. The remaining volumes appeared from
time to time until the work was completed in six
volumes, 8vo, in 17S8. In 1793 aj^pcared his Treatise
on Gonorrluea, and in 1794 another Treatise on
Hydrocele, which is understood to be the least popular
of his works.

Mr. Bell married, in 1776, Miss Hamilton, daughter
of Dr. Robert Hamilton, professor of divinity in the
university of Edinburgh, by whom he had a numerous
family. He died, April 4, 1 806.

BELL, Sir Charles, was bom at Edinburgh in
1774. His father was a minister of the Scottish
Episcopal Church, and held a small living at Doune,
in the county of Perth. As the minister died while
still young, his family, consisting'of four sons, were
thrown upon the maternal care; but this, instead of
being a disadvantage, seems to have produced a
contrary effect, by the early development of their
talents, so that they ail attained distinguished
positions in society, the first as a writer to the signet,
the second as an eminent surgeon, and the third as
professor of Scots law in the university of Edinburgh.
Charles, the youngest, was less favourably situated
tlian his brothers for a complete education, but his
own obsei-vation and natural aptitude supplied the
deficiency. "My education," he tells us, " was the
example of my brothers." The care of his mother
did the rest, so that her youngest and best-beloved
child at last outstripped his more favoured seniors,
and his grateful remembrance of her lessons and
training continued to the end of his life. The
history of such a family justifies the saying which
the writer of this notice has often heard repeated by
a learned professor of the university of Glasgow:
"When I see," he said, "a very talented youth who
makes his way in the world, I do not ask. Who was
his father? but. Who was his mother?" On l)eing
removed to the high-school of Edinburgh — where,
by the way, he made no distinguished figure —
Charles was chiefly under the charge of his brother
John, sulj-equently t!ie eminent surgeon, and it was
from him he derived tliat impulse which determined
his future career. He studied anatomy, and with
such proficiency that, even before he had reached
the age of manhood, he was al)le to deliver lectures
on that science, as a-;s;stant of his l)rother John, to
a class of more than a liundred pu]^ils. In 1799,
even before he was athnittcd a fellow of the Royal
College of Surgeons of lidinburgh, he published the
first part of his System of Dissections. Longing,
however, for a wider field of action, and disgusted
with the medical controversies in I^dinbiirgh, he
removed to London in 1 804. It was a bold step;
for at this time, owing to jjolitical causes, a Scots-
man of education was regarded with suspicion and

dislike in this favourite field of Scottish adventure,
and Charles Bell was looked upon as an interloper
come to supplant the true children of the English
soil. But he bravely held onward in his course, and
won for himself the esteem of influential friends, the
chief of whom were .Sir Astley Cooper and Dr.
Abernethy, and he soon extended the circle by his
treatise on the Anatomy of Expression, which was
published in London in 1806. It was a work so
admirably suited for painters, in their delineations
of human feeling and passion, that the most dis-
tinguished artists of the day adopted it for their
text-book, and were loud in their encomiums of its
merits. .Still, however, this was but the foundation-
stone of his future distinction. Bell had determined
to be "chief of his profession in character," and to
attain this daring height much had to be surmounted.
He commenced as a public lecturer, but upon a
humble and disadvantageous scale, as he was slill an
alien in London; and his early discoveries upon the
nervous system, which he was patiently maturing, as
his future highest claims to distinction, were as yet
but little esteemed by the public, and would be
compelled to force their way slowly into notice, if
they should ever chance to be noticed. In 1807, the
same year in which he commenced his course of
lectures, he published his System of Operative Surgery.,
a work where all the operations described in it were
the result not of mere theory or reading, but of
personal experience.

It was amidst this disheartening amount of un-
thanked, unappreciated toil and disappointment that
Charles Bell sought a comforter of his cares; and in
181 1 he married Miss Shaw, who not only justified
his choice, but made him brother-in-law to two men
whose pursuits were congenial to his own. These
were John and Alexander Shaw, whom his lessons
and example raised into distinguished anatomists and
physiologists, wliile the latter ultimately became the
most effective chamj^ion of his preceptor's claims to
originality in his physiological and anatomical dis-
coveries. Bell's darkened horizon now began to
clear, and his worth to be properly estimated. In
181 1, the happy year of his marriage, after he had
long remained unconnected with any medical school
or association, he was allied to the Hunterian
School in Windmill Street, as joint-lecturer with
Mr. Wilson. The extent of his knowledge and
power of illustrating it, exhibited in his ]irelcctions,
and the happy facility of demoiistration and language,
which he had always at command, soon made his
lectures popular, so that in 1814 he was a]i|)ointcd
surgeon to the Middlesex Hospital; and here his
remarkable skill as an operator, combined with his
style of lecturing, which although not eloquent, was
full of thought very strikingly expressed, made him
a favourite both with patients and pupils. The
result of his labours there, whicli continued till 1836,
enabled him to make the honest boast at his
departure, that he had left the institution, which at
his entrance was Init of small account, "\\ith full
wards, and ^120,000 in the funds."

.\s the wliole of the ]:ireceding ]icrio<1, uji to the
date of Napoleon's banishment to .St. Helena, hatl
l>een a season of war, the professional talents of Bell
had been in reriuest in our military hospitals, and
upon the Continent, as well as in London, so that
in 1809, immediately after the battle of Corunna, Ik;
quitted the metropolis, to attend upon tlie wnunded
of the British army. Here his opjiortuiiities of
acquiring fresh knowledge were eagerly enil)raced,
and the result of his experience was an c^say on
gun-shot wounds, which apjieared as an aj)pendix
to his System of Operative Surgery, published in 1807.

SIR CHARLES BELL

HENRY BELL.

117

After the battle of Waterloo, he also repaired to
Brussels, and took the charge of an hospital; and
here he was engaged for three successive days and
nights in operating upon and dressing the wounds of
three hundred soldiers. Of these cases he made
various drawings in water-colouring, which are
reckoned among the best specimens of such pro-
ductions in our anatomical school.

The time at length arrived when Bell was to ac-
quire that full amount of reputation for wliich he
ha<i toiled so long and laboriously, and amidst such
unmerited neglect. P'rom an early period his
favourite subject of investigation was the nervous
system, upon which the most erroneous opinions had
hitherto prevailed. Even professional men of high
medical and anatomical knowdedge rested satisfied in
the belief that all the nerves were alike, and that the
superior amount of susceptibility in any organ merely
depended upon the greater number of nerves allotted
to it. But even before he left Edinburgh, a suspicion
had grown upon the mind of Bell, that this prevalent
opinion was erroneous, and further inquiry satisfied
him that his suspicion was right. He found that
the nerves were distributed into different classes, to
each of which belonged its proper function; and that
the same puncture which, applied to any other of
these coniluctors to the senses, would produce a sen-
sation of pain, when applied to the eye would give
only the impression of a Hash of light. He saw,
also, that the two roots by whicli the spinal nerves
are connected with the vertebral medulla, impart two
different powers, the one of motion, the other of
sensation. In this way he accounted for those cases
in whicti the motive or sensitive powers are singly or
severally lost. This discovery, which was as wonder-
ful as tliat of the circulation of the blood, astonished
the whole medical world: it was a revelation that
had remained imknown till now, and when an-
nounced coulil not be controverted; and under this
new guidance, practical anatomists were directed to
the proper seat of the ailments that came under their
notice, as well as taught the right mode of cure.
His theory, which was published in 1S21 in the
Philosopliical Transactions, in the form of an essay
on the "Nervous System," produced immediate at-
tention, and when its value was apjireciated, attempts
were ma<le to deny him the merit of the discover)'.
Eortunateiy, however, for his claims, he had printed
a pamplilet for distribution among his friends as
early as 1811, in which the principal points of his
theory were already announced; while his letters,
written to his brother upon the subject, were suffi-
cient to put to flight the numerous pretenders who
claimed the discovery as their own. His subsequent
pul)Iications on tlie Xcr-jous Circle, and On the Eye,
completely estal)Iished the existence of a sixth sense,
hw which we are enat)led to ascertain anti estimate
the qualities of size, weight, form, distance, texture,
and resistance.

Bell had now reached the summit of his ambition,
and established for himself a European reputation.
His improvements were adopted in every country
wliere the healing art was studied as a science, while
the leading men of i!ie Continent united in testifying
to the value of his labours. In 1S24 '^e was appointed
to the senior chair of anatomy and surgery in the
London College of Surgeims, while his treatises on
Animal Mechanics, and 0>i the /land, and his Illus-
trations of Palcys Xatural Theoa\'v, secured that
jirofessiolial di>tinction which seemed cajiahle of no
further extension. On the accessjun of \Villiam IV.
to the throne, it was resolved to conimemorate this
event by conferrini,' the honour of kni.;hthood upon
a lew of the nKi>t eniineut scientific men of the

period, and in this chosen number Bell was included,
with his countrymen Brewster, Leslie, and Ivory.
An opportunity now occurred for Sir Charles Bell
to return to Scotland, after an absence of thirty-two
years, by an offer in 1836 of the professorship of
surgery in the university of Edinburgh, which he
accepted. It was his [jrevailing desire, notwith-
standing his wide and lucrative practice in London,
to have leisure for prosecuting his .scientific re-
searches, and to prosecute them among the friends
of his youth, and in the place where they had com-
menced. P)Ut unfortunately he found Edinburgh too
limited a field for his purposes, and especially for
a new and great work u])on the A'iT707/s System,
which he wished to publish, with numerous splendid
illustrations. Instead of this he was obliged to con-
tent himself with a new edition of the Anatomy 0/
Expression, which he greatly extended and improved,
in the course of a tour through Italy, during the in-
terval of a college session. He also jniijlished his
Institutes of Sur;^ery, containing the substance of his
lectures delivered in the university. In 1S42 during
the vacation of summer. Sir Charles left Edinburgli
on a journey to London; but, on reaching Hallow
Park on the 27th of May, he died suddenly the same
night. The cause of his death was an:;ina pectoris,
brought on, as was supposed by his friends, from
disappointment, chiefly arising from the new medical
reform bill, which he believed was hostile to the
best interests of the profession. His intellectual
originality, acuteness of perception, and steady per-
severance, by which he attained such distinguished le-
])utation and success, were connected with an amenity
and gentleness of disposition, that endeared him to
the circle of his friends and the society in which
he moved. An excellent portrait and striking like-
ness of -Sir Charles Bell was painted by B. Mantyne,
of which an engraving by Thomson will be found in
the third volume of Pettigrew's Medical JWtrait
Gallery.

BELL, Henry, the first successful applier of steam
to the purposes of navigation in Europe, was born at
Torphichen in Linlithgowshire, April 7, 1767. He
was sprung from a race of mechanics, being the fifth
son of Patrick Bell and Margaret Easton, whose
ancestors, through several descents, were alike well
known in the neighbourhood as ingenious mill-
wrights and builders; some of them having also dis-
tinguished themselves in the erection of public works,
such as harbours, bridges, &c., not only in Scotland,
but also in the other divisions of the United Kingdom.
Henry Bell, after receiving a plain education at the
parish school, began in 1780 to learn the handicraft
(jf a stone-mason. Three years after he changed his
views in favour of the other craft of the family, and
was ajijirenticed to his uncle, who practised the art
of a mill-wright. At the termination of his engage-
ment he went to Borrowstounness for the purpo>e of
being instructed in ship-motlelling; and in 17S7 he
engaged with Mr. James Inglis, engineer at Bells-
hill, with the view of comjdeting his kii'jwledge of
mechanics. He afterwards went to London, w Ikto
hewas em]:)loyed liy the celebrated Mr. Keniiie; >■ ■ tl.at
his opportunities of acquiring a iir.-.cticai acquair.tance
with the higher branches of his art were aIlogL;i;Lr
very considerable.

About the year 1790 Bell returned to Scotland,
and it is said that he fuaetised for sever.1l ye.^.r- r.t
Clasgow the iinanibitioiis cralt of a hou>e-ca: {enter.
He was entered. (Jctoher 20. 1707, a- a member -f
tlie corjioration of wrights in that city. It wa- Irs
wi^li to become an undertaker of pr.l'lic work- in
(Jla--'ow; ku eitiicr Uuni a delic;e:.ey cl ca; iial. or

ii8

HENRY BELL.

from want of steady application, he never succeeded
to any extent in that walk. "The truth is," as we
have been informed, "Bell had many of the features
of the enthusiastic projector — never calculated means
to ends, or looked much farther than the first stages
or movements of any scheme. His mind was a chaos
of extraordinary projects, the most of which, from his
want of accurate scientific calculation, he never could
carry into practice. Owing to an imperfection in
even his mechanical skill, he scarcely ever made one
part of a model suit the rest, so that many designs,
after a great deal of pains and expense, were succes-
sively abandoned. He was, in short, the hero of
a thousand blunders and one success." It may
easily be conceived that a mechanician open to this
description could not succeed, to any great extent, as
either a designer or executor of what are called public
works. The idea of propelling vessels by means of
steam early took possession of his mind. "In 1800 (he
writes) I applied to Lord Melville, on purpose to show
his lordship and the other members of the admiralty
the practicability and great utility of applying steam
to the propelling of vessels against winds and tides,
and every obstruction on rivers and seas where there
was depth of water. After duly thinking over the
plan, the lords of that great establishment were of
opinion that tlie plan proposed would be of no value
in promoting transmarine navigation." He repeated
the attempt in 1S03, with the same result, notwith-
standing the emphatic declaration of the celebrated
Lord Nelson, who, addressing their lordships on the
occasion, said, "My lords, if you do not adopt Mr.
Bell's sclieme, other nations will, and in the end vex
every vein of this empire. It will succeed (he
added), and you should encourage Mr. Bell." Hav-
ing ol)tained no support in this country. Bell for-
warded copies of the prospectus of his scheme to the
different nations of Europe, and to the United States
of America. "The Americans," he writes, "were
the first who put my plan into practice, and were
quickly followed by other nations." Mr. Watt him-
self had no faith in the practicability of applying his
own great discovery to the purpose of navigation.
In a letter addressed to Mr. Bell he said, "How
many noblemen, gentlemen, and engineers have
puzzled their brains, and spent their thousands of
pounds, and none of all these, nor yourself, have been
able to bring the power of steam in navigation to
a successful issue." The various attempts which pre-
ceded that of Bell are briefly noticed in the follow-
ing extract from the Fifth Report of the Select Commit-
tee of the House of Commons on Steamboats, fune, 1822:
.S"/> Henry Parnell, Chairman. Mentioning the
following as experimenters, namely, Mr. Jonathan
Hulls, in 1736; the iJuke of Bridgewater, on the
Manchester and Runcorn canal; Mr. Miller of Dals-
winton; the Marquisde Jouffroy (a French nobleman),
in 1781; Lord Stanhope, in 1795; and Mr. Syming-
ton and .Mr. Taylor, on the Forth and Clyde Canal,
in 1801-2; the A'i'/'yr/ proceeds: — "These ingenious
men made valuable experiments, and tested well the
mighty power of steam. Still no practical uses re-
sulted from any of these attempts. It was not till
the year 1807, when the Americans began to use
steamboats on their rivers, that their safety and
utility was first proved. P.ut the merit of constructing
these boats is due to natives of (Jrcat Jh'itain. Mr.
Henry Bell of (llasgovv gave the first model of them
to the late .Mr. Fulton of America, and corresponded
regularly with Fulton on the suljject. Mr. Bell con-
tinued to turn his talents to the imjiroving of steam
apparatus, and its application to various manufactures
about (ilasgow; and in 1811 constructed the Comet
Steamboat, the first of the kind in Europe, to navigate

the Clyde, from Glasgow to Port-Glasgow, Greenock,
Helensburgh, and Inverness." An interesting recol-
lection of Mr. Miller's experiments on Dalswinton
Lake has been preserved by Mr. James Nasmyth, the
eminent engineer, on the authority of his father, who
was present on the occasion. "The parties in the
boat on that memorable occasion," writes Mr. Na-
smyth to Mr. D. O. Hill, the landscape painter, who
has introduced the lake into his picture of the valley
of the Nith, "were Miller (of Dalswinton), Taylor
(the engineer), Robert Burns (the poet), Henry
Brougham (the future lord-chancellor), and Alexander
Nasmyth (the father of landscape painting in Scot-
land)— a fit and worthy crew to celebrate so great an
event. Many a time (adds the writer) I have heard
my father describe the delight which this first and
successful essay at steam-navigation yielded the party
in question. I only wish Burns had immortalized it
in rhyme, for indeed it was a subject worthy of his
muse."

In 1808 Bell removed to the modem village of
Helensburgh, on the Firth of Clyde, where his wife
undertook the superintendence of the public baths,
and at the same time kept the principal inn, whilst
he continued to prosecute his favourite scheme, with-
out much regard to the ordinary affairs of the world.
In 1812 he produced his steamboat, the Comet, of
30 tons burden, with an engine of three horse-power.
The Comet, so called from the celebrated comet which
appeared at that time, was built by Messrs. John
Wood and Co., at Port-Glasgow, and made her trial
trip on the i8th of January, when she sailed from
Glasgow to Greenock, making five miles an hour
against a head-wind. In August of the same year
we find Bell advertising the Comet to ply upon the
Clyde three times a week from (Glasgow, "to sail by
the power of air, wind, and steam." In September
the voyage was extended to Oban and Fort-William,
and was to be accomplished to and from the latter
place in four days. Mr. Bell lived to see his in-
vention universally adopted. The Clyde, which
first enjoyed the advantages of steam-navigation,
became the principal seat of this description of ship-
building; and, at the present time, Clyde-built
steamers maintain their superiority in every port in
the world. Steamships are now launched from the
building-yards of Glasgow and (jreenock of 2000
tonnage, and 800 horse-power; and Clyde-built ships,
with Glasgow engines, make the voyage betwixt
Liverpool and New-York in ten days. Steamboat
building and marine-engine making received their
first powerful impulse from the solution of the pro-
blem of ocean steam-navigation. From tables, con-
structed by Dr. Strang from returns furnished to him
by the various ship-builders and engineers in Glasgow,
Dumbarton, Greenock, and Port-Glasgow, it a]ipears
that, during the seven years from 1846 to 1852, there
were constructed at Glasgow and in its neighbour-
hood 123 vessels, of which I was of wood, 122 of
iron, 80 paddle, and 43 screw; consisting of 200
wooden tonnage; 70,441 iron tonnage; 6610 horse-
power engines for wooden hulls, 22,539 horse-power
engines for iron hulls, and 4720 horsc-jiower engines
for vessels not built on the Clyde. During the same
period there were constructed in Dumbarton, 58
vessels, all of iron, 20 being for ]iaddles and 38 for
screws, and having a tonnage of 29, 761 ; and during
the last three years of the same period, 3615 horse-
power engines were made there for iron hulls, aiul
200 horse-power engines for vessels not built on the
Cly<le. During the same period, from 184610 1852,
there were constnicted at (Jreenock and Port-
Glasgow, 66 steam-vessels, of which 13 were of wood
and 53 of iron, 41 paddle and 25 screw; consisting

HENRY BELL JAMES BELL.

I!9

of 18,131 wood tonnage and 29,071 iron tonnage,
129 horse- power engines for wooden hulls, 5439
horse-power engines for iron hulls, and 4514 horse-
power engines for vessels not built on the Clyde.
For the whole ports in the Clyde, the steam-vessels
built and the marine engines made, from 1846 to
1852, were as follows: — Number of steam-vessels
built— wood hulls, 14; iron hulls, 233; in all, 247;
of these 141 were paddles, and 106 screws. The
tonnage of the wootien steamers amounts to 18,331,
of the iron to 129,273. The engines' horse-power
in wood hulls was 6739, the engines' horse-power in
iron hulls was 31,593; while there was of engines'
horse-])ower for vessels not constructetl on the Clyde,
9434, making a grand total of 247 steamers, amount-
ing to 147,604 tons, and of engines 47,766 horse-
power. Coming nearer to the present day, we may
state that the ship-building yards on the Clyde alone
turned out, in 1863, 170 vessels of 124, cxx) tonnage; in
1864, 242 vessels of 178,505 tonnage; and in 1865, 257
vessels of every size an<l character, with 151,297 of
tonnage and 23,857 of horse-{x>wer. On the 1st of
January, 1866, there were in the hands of the ship-
builders orders for 178 vessels, with a tonnage of
29l,27otons, and a horse-power of 42,607. Such was
the rapid progress in a few years of steam-ship building
on the river where Henry Bell first tried his great ex-
periment. The steam communication which has, for
several years, existetl betwixt our West Indian and
North American colonies and the mother country,
has recently iK'cn extended to Australia and the Cape
of Ciood Hope, thus uniting (ireat Britain to her
most distant dependencies by new and powerful tics,
and literally realizing the vivid description of George
Canning, who, dilating on the lx;nefits of steam-
navigation, several years before the death of Bell,
described it as "that new and mighty power, new at
least in the application of its might, which walks
tlie water like a giant, rejoicing in its course, stem-
ming alike the tempest and the tide — accelerating
intercourse — shortening distances — creating, as it
were, unexpected neighbourhoods, and new com-
binations of social and commercial relations, and
giving to the fickleness of winds, and the faithless-
ness of waves, the certainty and steadiness of a high-
way upon the land." Whilst commerce and civiliza-
tion were tlius making rapid progress by means of
his invention, Henry Bell reap)ed no personal advan-
tage from it. He even approached the confines of
old age in very straitened circumstances. Touched
by his condition, the late Dr. Cleland, and a number
of other benevolent individuals, commenced a sub-
scription on his liehalf, by which a consideraVjle sum
was raised. The trustees on the river Clyde granted
him an annuity of jCioo, which was continijed
to his widow. This was but a liecoming acknow-
ledgment of the value of his great invention on the
jiart of the trustees of a river whose annual revenue
was increased, mainly by the impulse given to its
trade by steam-navigation, from ^6676 in iSio, the
year befure I'>cll commenced the constraction of the
Ci'Wt-/, to £20,2()G in 1S30, the year in which he
died; and which has been more than tripled during
the suhseipicnt twenty-two years, being in 1S52
;^76.030. Within the same space of time, the
channel of the river has undergone a corresponding
improvement, being rcndercfl navigable by shi]is of
700 and Soo tons burden; whereas, little more than
half a ce;Uury ago it w.is navigable only bv coal
gahhards and vessels <5f 30 to 45 tuns. The average
available depth of the Clyde at high water of neap
tides is 16 feet, with an additional depth of two
or three leet at spring-tides. ,\t the Broomielaw,
the harbour of Gla^guw, there are now 10,000 lineal

feet of quayage, giving accommodation to hundreds
of the largest siiips belonging to the mercantile
marine of this and foreign countries. Mr. Bell died
at Helensburgh, March 14, 1830, aged sixty-three,
and lies buried in the Row churchyard. An obelisk
to his memory w.is erected on the'rock of Dunglass,
a promontory on the Clyde, about 2}.^ miles above
Dunbarton.

BELL, Ja.mi'.s. This indefatigable geographer
was bom in 1769, in Jedburgh. His father, the
Rev. Thomas Bell, minister of a Relief congregation
in that town, and afterwards of Dovehill Cha])el in
Glasgow, was a man of great worth and considerable
learning, and the author of a Treatise on the Co7.e-
nants, and several other pieces of a theological kind.
In his childhood and youth the subject <jf our
memoir suffered much sickness, and gave little
promise either of bodily or mental vigour; but, as
he grew up, his constitution improved, ami he began
to evince that irresistilde pro])ensity to reading, or
rather devouring all books that came in his way,
which ever afterwards marked his character. It was
fortunate for him that he was not bereft of his
natural guardian until he was considerably advanced
in life, for he was quite unfit to push his own way in
the world, the uncommon simplicity of his character
rendering him the easy dupe of the designing and
knavish. He indeed entered into business for a
short time, as a manufacturer, with his characteristic
ardour, but finding himself unsuccessful, he betook
himself to another and more laborious mode of
making a livelihood, but one for which he was far
better qualified, namely, the private teaching of
Greek and Latin to advanced students. But as his
father, with parental prudence, had settled a small
annuity upon him, he was enabled to devote a con-
siderable portion of his time to those studies and
researches to which his natural inclination early led
him, and which he only ceased to prosecute with his
life. Mr. Bell used to advert with feelings of
peculiar satisfaction to the meetings of a little weekly
society which, during this period of his history, were
held at his house and under his auspices, and at
which the members read essays and debated ques-
tions for their mutual entertainment and improve-
ment. On all these occasions, Mr. Bell never failed
to contrilnite his full share to the evening's proceed-
ings, and, when faiily excited, would astonish and
delight his associates, particularly the younger part
of them, with the extent and variety of his learning,
and the ast(jnishing volul)ility with which he jioured
forth the treasures of his capacious and well-furnished
mind on almost every possible topic of speculation
or debate.

Mr. Bell's fin,t appearance as an author was made
about the year 1S15, when he contributed ^cver,•■.l
valuable chapters to the Glas^-m' (Jio;^rapJiy — a work
which had an extensive circulation, publi>hed in fiNC
volumes Svo, by the house of KhuU, lUackie. i.^' Co.,
and which became the foundation of Mr. bill s
System of Popular and Sc:ait:fu- Gec:^ra;I:y. In 1S24
he published — in conjunction with a ymu-.g (u.i-.;i'W
linguist of great ^irnniise, named Ji-lni Ikll. wIm
died January I, 1S26. but no relative cf tl;e sr.l- cct
of this memoir — a tliin Svo volr.nie. entitled ( •..'.-
eal Kesearcl'.es in J^ht'cio. y aiui (/V-\v.;,'', ; . I lie
philologist contriluiteil t«n artiek> t-' t!.^' v-.^i-.n-.e,
the one a 'T\evie\\- of Ji>n.e>" (;ra:..nia:. :sA :e.c
other a '"Review of an .\rn!i:c \ < •> .1 ;;..-.i;.' ."n.d
Index to Riehard^on'> Arabic ( ir.nr.ir.nr. I'V Innies
NoMe, Teacher of I.nn-u.i-e-;. in Iviin! ;:r-!;." b. -th
of which are cliaractcri.-'.d jiv a nvir.r.^c r.-,;i-.n;n;.inre
with the subjects uiv.ier di-cii-siL.n. '1 lie ^;t. ^^r.w her's

I20

JAMES BELL JOHN BELL.

contribution consisted of a very elaborate "Examina-
tion of the Various Opinions that in Modem Times
have been held respecting the Sources of the Ganges,
and the Correctness of the Lamas' Map of Thibet,"
which elicited high encomiums from some of the
leading periodicals of the day.

Geography was the science around which as a
nucleus all his sympathies gathered, as if by an in-
voluntary and irresistible tendency. To it he con-
secrated the labour of his life; it was the favourite
study of his earlier years, and his okl age continued
to be cheered by it. Li everything belonging to this
science there was a marvellous quickness and ac-
curacy of perception — an extreme justness of observa-
tion and inference about him. When the conversa-
tion turned upon any geographical subject, his ideas
assumed a kind of poetical inspiration, and flowed on
in such unbroken and close succession, as to leave no
opportunity to his auditors of interposing a question
or pursuing a discussion. Once engaged, there was
no recalling him from his wild excursive range — on he
went, revelling in the intensity of his own enjoyment,
and bearing his hearers along with him over chains
of mountains and lines of rivers, until they became
utterly bewildered by the rapidity with which the
physical features of every region of the globe were
made to pass in panoramic succession before them.

From liis childhood Mr. Bell had been subject to
severe attacks of asthma. These gradually assumed
a more alarming character, and ultimately compelled
him to leave Glasgow for a residence in the country.
The place which he selected for his retirement was
a humble cottage in the neighbourhood of the village
of Campsie, about twelve miles north of Glasgow.
Here he spent the last ten or twelve years of his life
in much domestic comfort and tranquillity.

He was abstemious in his general habits; and
his only earthly regret — at least the only one which
he deemed of sufficient consequence to make matter
of conversation — was the smallness of his library,
aud his want of access to books. Yet it is astonish-
ing how little in the republic either of letters or of
science he allowed to escape him. His memory
was so retentive, that nothing which he had once
read was ever forgotten by him. This extraordinary
faculty enabled him to execute his literary commis-
sions with a much more limited apparatus of books,
than to others less gifted would have been an indis-
pensable requisite.

The closing scene of Mr. Bell's life was calm and
peaceful He had, as already mentioned, long
suffered violently from asthma. This painful disease
gradually gaJHed upon his constitution, and became
more severe in its periodical attacks, and tlie ex-
hausted powers of nature finally sunk in the struggle.
He expired on the 3d of May, 1833, in the sixty-
fourth year of his age, and was buried, at his own
express flesire, in the old churchyard of Campsie —
a beautiful and sequestered spot.

In forming an estimate of Mr. Bell's literary
character, we must always keep in view the diffi-
culties with which he had to stniggle in his unwearied
])ursuit of knowledge. He was without fortune,
without powerful friends, and destitute, to a great
extent, of even the common apixiratus of a scholar.
He laboured also under defects of ])hysical organiza-
tion which would have chilled and utterly repressed
any mind less ardent and enthusiastic than his own
in the pursuit of knowledge: yet he surmounted
every obstacle, and gained for himself a distinguished
place among British geogra])hers, in des]5ite both of
his hard fortune and infirm liealth. Many men have
made a more brilliant dis]5lay witli inferior talents
and fewer accomplishments; but none ever possessed

a more complete master}' over their favourite science,
and could bring to any related task a greater amount
of accurate and varied knowledge. That he was an
accomplished classical scholar is apparent from the
immense mass of erudite allusions which his writings
present; but he was not an exact scholar. He knew
little of tlie niceties of language; his compositions
are often inelegant and incorrect; he had no idea of
elaborating the expression of his thoughts, but wrote
altogether without attention to effect, and as if there
were no such things as order in thinking and method
in composition. It would be doing him injustice,
however, while on this point, not to allow that his
later writings exhibit a closer connection of ideas,
and greater succinctness of mental habits than his
earlier jiroductions.

Besides the earlier publications already adverted
to, Mr. Bell edited an edition of Rolliii's Aticiciit
History including the volume on the "Arts and
Sciences of the Ancients." This work, published
in Glasgow, in three closely printed octavo volumes,
bears ample evidence to the industry, research, and
sagacity of the editor. The notes are of great extent,
and many of them, on the geograjJiy of the ancients,
on the bearing of history on prophecy, more particu-
larly the prophecies of Daniel, or such notes as those
on the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks, tlie march
of Hannibal across the Alps, and the ruins of Babylon,
amount to discussions of considerable length.

His other great work was his System of Geography,
of which it is sufficient to say, that it has been pro-
nounced decidedly superior as a popular work to
that of Make Brun, and on this account was subse-
quently republished in America. In this country it
obtained a very extensive circulation. The prepara-
tion of these works, and of materials left incomplete
for a General Gazetteer, occupied a great many years
of Mr. Bell's life. He also took a lively interest in
the success of several scientific periodicals, and aided
their progress by mmierous valuable contributions
from his own pen. In all his writings, from the
causes already assigned, there is too little effort at
analysis and compression. Much might with advan-
tage liave been abridged, and much pared off. \\\
his System of Geography, he occasionally borrowed
the correcting pen of a friend, hence its composition
is more regulated and chastenetl.

Mr. Bell's moral characterwas unimpeachable. lie
was remarkable for jilain, undissembling honesty,
and the strictest regard to tnith. In all that con-
stituted practical inde]5endence of character, he was
well furnished; he could neither brook d<;j:)endence
nor stoop to complaint. He was in the strictest
sense of the word a i)ious man. He concurred with
his whole heart in that inter]iretation of the doctrines
of the Bible commonly called the Calvinistic; but
in no sense of the word was he sectarian in spirit;
he had no bigotry or intolerance of opinion on reli-
gious points, althougli few could wield the massive
weapons of theological controversy with greater
vigour and effect.

BELL, John, of Antermony, a traveller of tlie
eighteenth century, was the son of Patrick Bell, the
rei)resentative of that old and respectable family,
and of Anabel Stirling, daughter of Mungo Stirling
of Craigbarnet. He was born in i6gi, and, after
receiving a classical education, turned his attention
to the study of medicine. On passing as physician,
he determined to visit foreign countries, but we shall
insert this part of his history in Mr. Bell's own %\ ords.
"In my youth," says he, "I had a strong desire of
seeing foreign parts; to satisfy which inclination,
after liaving obtained, from some persona of worth,

JOHN BELL.

recommendatory letters to Dr. Areskine, chief
physician and privy counsellor to the Czar Peter L, I
embarked at London, in the month of July, 1714, on
board the Prosperity of Ramsgate, Captain Emerson,
for St. Petersburg;. On my arrival there, I was
received by Dr. Areskine in a very friendly manner,
to whom I communicated my intentions of seeking
an opportunity of visiting some parts of Asia, at least
those parts which border on Russia. Such an
opiJortunity soon presented itself, on occasion of an
embassy then preparing from his czarish majesty to
the Sophy of Persia." — {.Preface to his travels. ) The
ambassador fortunately applied to Dr. Areskine to
recommend some one skilled in physic and surgerj*
to go in his suite, and Mr. Bell was soon afterwards
engaged in the service of the Russian emperor, lie
accordingly left St. Petersburg on the 15th of July,
1715, and proceeded to Moscow, from thence to
Cazan, and down tlie Volga to Astracan. The
embassy then sailed down the Caspian Sea to
Derbend, and journeyed by Mougan, Tauris, and
Saba, to Lspahan, where they arrived on the 14th of
March, 171 7. They left that city on the 1st of
September, and returned to St. Petersburg on the
30th December, 1 7 18, after having travelled across
the country from .SaratofT. On his arrival in the
capital, Mr. Bell found that his friend and patron
Dr. Areskine had died about six weeks before, but
he had now secured the friend^ihip of the ambassa-
dor, and upon hearing that an embassy to China was
preparing, he easily obtained an a]5i)ointment in it
through his influence. Tlie account of his journey
to Cazan, and through Siberia to China, is by far
the most complete and interesting part of his travels.
His descrii)tion of the manners, customs, and super-
stitions of the inhabitants, and of the Delay-lama and
Chmese wall, deserve j^iartiailarly to be noticed.
They arrived at Pekin "after a tedious journey of
exactly sixteen months." Mr. Bell has left a very
full account of occurrences during his residence in
the capital of China. The embassy left that city on
the 2d of Marcij, 1 72 1, and arrived at Moscow on
the 5th of January, 1722.

The war between Russia and Sweden was now
concluded, and the czar had determined to under-
take an expedition into Persia, at the request of the
sophy, to assist that prince against the AlTghans, his
subjects, who had seized upon Kandahar, and pos-
sessed themselves of several provinces on the frontiers
towards India. Mr. Bell's former journey to Persia
gave him peculiar advantages, and he was accord-
ingly engaged to accompany the army to Derbent,
from which he returned in Deceml)er, 1722. .Soon
afterwards he revisited his native country, and re-
turned to St. Petersburg in 1734. In 1737 he was
sent to Constantinople by the Russian chancellor,
and Mr. Rondeau the British mini.>ter at the Russian
court.' I le seems now to have abandoned the public
service, and to have settled at Constantinople as a
merchant. About 1746 he married Mary Peters, a
Russian lady, and determined to return to Scotland.
He spent the latter part of his life on his estate, and
in the enjoyment of the society of his friends. At
Icngtii, after a long life spent in active beneficeiK:e,
and exertions for the good of mankind, he died at
Antermony on the Ist of July, 1780, at tlie advanced
age of eighty-nine.

The only work written by Mr. Bell is his Traz-els
from St. Petersbiiri^ in Russia to various parts of
Asui, to which reference has already been made. It
was printed in 2 volumes ([uarto by Robert and
Andrew Foulis, in 1763, and published by sul3scrip-

1 M'Urc's liiitoy c/ Glas^cv:, new tdiii-a, p. :i^

tion. "The history of this book," says the Quarterly
Ke7>ie-ui, "is somewhat curious, and not generally
known. For many years after Mr. Bell returned
from his travels, he used to amuse his friends with
accounts of what he had seen, refreshing his recollec-
tion from a sini])le diary of occurrences and observa-
tion;;. The Earl (Jranville, then president of the
council, on hearing some of his adventures, prevailed
on him to thnnv his notes together into the form of
a narrative, which, when done, pleased him so much
that he sent the manuscri])t to Dr. Robertson, with
a particular request that he would revise and jiut it
into a fit state for the press. The literar)' avocations
of the Scottish historian at that time not allowing
him to undertake the task, he recommended Mr.
Barron, a professor in the university of .Alx'rdeen,
and on this gentleman consulting Dr. Robertson as
to the style and the book of travels which he would
recommend him to adopt for his guiile, the historian
replied, 'Take Gullivers Travels for your model,
and you cannot go wrong.' He did so, and '■ BelFs
Travels^ have all the simjilicity of Gulliver, with the
advantage which truth always carries over fiction."*

BEILL, John, an eminent surgeon in Edinburgh,
and of distinguished literary qualifications, v\as born
in 1 762. He was the second son of the Rev. William
Bell, a clergvman of the Scottish Episcopal Church,
established at Edinburgh. His mother was the
daughter of Mr. Morrice, also a memlx-r of the
Scottish Episcopal Church. Mr. John Bell, after
receiving a lii)eral education, became the pupil of
Mr. Alexander Wood, surgeon, who was long cele-
brated in lulinburgh as a medical practitioner.
From the first, Mr. I]ell devoted himself to his pro-
fessional studies with that enthusiastic ardour so
characteristic of genius, and almost always the pre-
cursor of distinction. After completing his profes-
sional education, he travelled for a short time in
Russia and the north of Europe; and on his return
commenced his professional duties by delivering
lectures on surgery and midwifery. These lectures,
M hich he delivered Ixjtween the years 17S6 and 1796,
were very highly esteemed, and speedily brought
him into practice as a consulting and operating
surgeon. The increase of his private practice, in-
deed, rendered it necessarv' for him, in 1796, to
discontinue his lectures, and from tliat time forward
he devoted himself to his patients, and to the pre-
paration of his several pu!)lications.

Por upwards of twenty years Mr. Bell may be
said to have stood at the head of his jirofession in
Edinburgh as an ojierator. Patients came to him
from all quarters, both of .Scotland and England, and
even from the Continent, and during that inten.-al he
performed some of the most delicate and difficult
operations in surgery. Nor was his celebrity confined
to Edinburgh. He was generally known, b')lh in tliis
country and throughout the world, as one of the
most distinguished men in his ]irofess:on; and his
works show that his reputation was well I'oundcd.

Early in 1816 he was thrown by a sjiirited b.orse,
and aj^pears never to have entirely recovered Iji ni
the effects of tlie accident. In tlie ar.tunm >:■•{ il'.r.t
year he made an excursion, partly on account i>f h.is
heallh, to London; thence he ]irocetfled to P.iris,
and after^vards pursued his journey >ou■,h\^'ar^!s. vi-.t-
ing the most ilistingui>hed cities 01 I'.aly. DiiriTg
his residence on the Continent, he w.i^ trr.ited in tf.e
most fiatiering manner l>y the mcr.ii'-. r^ "f ii:-- f'wn
science; ami his countrymen, \\\\-\ r.ltcr the peace

- Qu

JOHN BELL WILLL\M BELLENDEN.

of 1815, had gone to the Continent in great num-
bers, gladly took his surgical assistance. In Paris,
Naples, and Rome in particular, his numerous patients
occupied him perhaps too exclusively; for his health
continued to decline, and he died at Rome, April 15,
1S20, in the fifty-seventh year of his age.

Mr. Bell very early in life became impressed with
a high notion of the advantage of combining general
accomplishments with professional skill; he there-
fore spared no pains to qualify himself in every way
to assume a favourable position in society. He was
a good classical scholar, and so general a reader that
there were few works of any note in literature, either
ancient or modern, with which he was not familiar.
This was remarkably shown in his library, in which
there was hardly a volume on any subject which did
not bear traces of having been carefully jierused and
noted by him. His practice was to make annota-
tions on the margin as he read; and considering the
engrossing nature of his professional labours, and
the several works in which he was himself engaged,
nothing is more extraordinary than the evidence
which is still in existence of the extent and variety
of his miscellaneous reading.

The information which he tlius acquired was not
lost upon him; he was polished and easy in his man-
ners, his perception of the ludicrous was keen, and
the tact with which he availed himself of his exten-
sive reading and general knowledge of all the in-
teresting topics of the day will be long remembered
by those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.
His conversational powers, indeed, were of the veiy
highest order; and as he had great urbanity and kind-
ness of manner, and was happily free from that affec-
Tation by which good talkers are sometimes distin-
guished, there were few of his contem]5oraries whose
society was more generally courted by the upper
classes in Edinburgh, and none who were Itetter
fitted to adorn and enliven the circle in which he
moved.

Mr. Bell's notions of the dignity of his profession
were very high, and no man perhaps ever discliarged
his professional duties with more disinterested huma-
nity and honourable independence. His genero-
sity to those whose circumstances required pecuniar}'
aid was well known, and his contempt for anything
approaching to what he thought mean or narrow-
minded was b')undless, and frequently expressed in
no very measured terms. The warmth of his temper,
h<jwever, involved him in several misunderstandings
with his professional brethren; the most remark-
at)le of which was that which brought him and
Dr. Gregory into collision. The question on which
these two distinguished men took opposite sides
related to the right of the junior members of the
College of .Surgeons of Edinburgh to perform opera-
tions in the Royal Infirmary. This dispute divided
the medical men of Ivlinburgh towards the close of
the la^t century; and Dr. Gregoiyand Mr. Bell wrote
several volumes ajjout it. But, although great wit
and much happy sarcasm were displayed on both
sides, it is impos^il>le to look back to this dissension
without feeling regret that two of the most eminent
medical men of tlieir day should have wasted their
ingenuity and high talents in acrimonious and un-
prtjfitable cf)ntrovcrsy, on a tojiic of ejihemeral in-
terest and comparatively minor importance, Mr.
Bell's principal publication in this controversy was
entitled Letters on Professional Character and Man-
ners; on the Education of a Sitri:;eon, and the Duties
and Qualifications of a Physician; addressed to fames
Gregory, Af.D. Edinburgh, iSio. It is a large
octavo volume, and is charactcriz-cd liy extraordinary
acrunonv.

In the fine arts, Mr. Bell's taste was very correct.
As a painter and draughtsman his talents were far
above mediocrity; and the anatomical drawings by
which his works are illustrated have been much ad-
mired. He was also a proficient in music, with more
taste, however, than execution; and as Mrs. Bell
was also a highly accomplished musician, his musical
parties, although conducted on a scale of expense
which his circumstances hardly warranted, assembled
at his house the elite of Edinburgh society. He had
no family, and his whole house was laid out for this
species of display — a foible which those who were
inclined to laugh at his expense did not overlook,
and which was to a certain extent censurable, since
his income, although very large, was never equal to
his expenditure.

Mr. Bell's personal appearance was good. Al-
though considerably under the middle size, he was
exceedingly well proportioned, very active and studi-
ously elegant in his movements. II is head was well
formed, his features regular, his eyes keen and pene-
trating, and his whole expression intellectual and in-
telligent in no ordinary degree. He was also re-
markable for the good taste which he exhibited in
his dress; and was altogether a person whom even a
stranger could not have passed without recognizing
as no ordinary man.

The limits of this work do not admit of an analysis
of Mr. Bell's writings. The best is his treatise on
Gunshot Wounds, to enable him to prepare which
he passed some weeks amongst the wounded men of
Lord Duncan's fleet, after the battle of Camperdown.

The following is a complete list of his professional
works: — I. llic Anatojny of the Human Body, vol.
i. 8vo, 1793, containing the Bones, Muscles, and
Joints; vol. ii. 1797, containing the Heart and Arteries;
vol. iii. 1802, containing the Anatomy of tlte Brain,
Description of the Course of the Ner7<es, and the Ana-
tomy of the Blyc and Ear; ivith Plates by Charles
Bell, third edition, 3 vols. 8vo, 1811. 2. Engrav-
ings of the Bones, Muscles, and Joints, illustrating the
first volume of the Anatomy of the Human Body,
drawn and engraved by himself, royal 4to, 1794,
third edition. 3. Engra^'ings of the Arteries, illus-
trating the second volume of the Anatomy of the
Human Body, royal 4to, 1801; third edition, 8vo,
1 8 10. i^.DiscoursesontheNatureand Cureof Wounds,
Svo, 1795; third edition, 1812. 5. Ansiver for the
Junior Members of the Koyal College of Surgeons to
the A/emorial of Dr. James Gregory, to the Managers
of the Koyal hifirmary, 8vo, 1800. 6. Ihe Prin-
ciples of Surgery, 3 vols. 4to, 1801-1808. 7. Letters
on Professional Character, &c. His Observations
on Italy is a posthumous work, which was edited
by his respected friend Bishop Sandford of Edin-
burgh.

Mr. I3cll married Miss Congleton, daughter of
Dr. Congleton of Edinburgh. His eldest brother
was Robert Bell, advocate, professor of convey-
ancing to the Society of Writers to the Signet;
author of the Scotch Law Dictionary, and of several
other works on tlie law of Scotland; who died in
1816. John liell's immediately younger luothers
were, Ccotge Josejih Bell, advocate, professor of the
law of Scotland in tlie imivcrsity of Edinburgh,
and author of Commentaries on the Imw of Scotland,
a work of high authorilv ; and .Sir Charles Bull,
E.R..S. of London, the distinguished anatomist and
physiologist. It is rare to find so many members
of the same family so favourably known to the
public.

BELLENDEN, \V 1 1,1. 1 AM, more commonly known

bv his Latin name of GuUclmub Bellcndcnus, is one

WILLIAM BELLENDEX.

123

of those Scotsmen of a former age, who are esteemed
in the general literary world as an honour to their
country, hut with whom that country itself is scarcely
at all acquainted. As there were many great but
unrecorded heroes before Agamemnon, so may it be
sai<l that there have flourished, out of Scotland, many
ilhi->trious Scotsmen, whose names have not been
celebrated in that country. It is time, however, that
this should cease to be the case, at least in reference
to William Ik-llenden, whose intellect appears to
have been one of most extraordinary character, and
whose intellectual eftbrts. if in a shape to command
more extensive appreciation, would certainly be
considered a great addition to those productions
which reflect honour upon his native country.

William Hellenden was uncjuestionably a member
of that family whose name has been variously spelled
Hallenden, Ballantyn, and latterly Ballantyne, and
which has producetl several men eminent in Scottish
literature. He lived in the reign of James VI., to
whom he was Mai^istcr Suppluiiin Libellorttm, or
reader of private petitions, an office probably con-
ferred upon him in consideration of his eminent
learning. King James, whose many regal faults were
in some measure redeemed by his love of literature
and patronage of literary men, provided Bellenden
with the means of leading a life of studious retire-
ment at the French capital, where he is said to have
afterwards become professor of humanity, and an
advocate in the parliament of I'aris.

Bellenden's first work, entitled Ciceronis Priuccps,
and published, apparently without his name, in
1608, is a treatise on the duties of a prince, formed
out of passages of the works of Cicero referring to
that subject. l"o tlie Ciceronis Priuccps, in which
Bellenden has only the merit of an ingenious collector,
was prefixed an original essay, styled Tractatits dc
ProccssH ct Scriptoribus Kci Politicic, in which there
is a rich vein of masculine sense and fervent piety,
while the origin of our errors in religion, and of our
defects in policy and learning, is traced out with
considerable accuracy and erudition. In this treatise,
the author, while he condemns tlie monstrous tenets
of ancient idolatry, and the gross corruptions of
philosophy, bestows many just encomiums on the
wisdom and patriotism of some ancient legislators.

Bellenden next published a treatise, formed like
the foregoing from detached passages in Cicero, re-
garding the duties of the consul, senator, and senate
among the Romans. It was entitled Ciccrotiis Con-
sul, Senator, Popiilusqiie Kcmauiis: iUustratus publict
obse>~'atione juris, grai'issimi iisiis disciplind, admin-
istrandi ternperata rationc: notatis inclinationibns
temporum in Pep. ct actis rerum in Senatit : qiiic a
Ciccroniana nonduni edita projliixere mcnioria, an-
n rum DCC.X. con:^csia in libros xz-i. Dc static rcrum
R.'manorum unde jam manant Ciceronis Priuccps,
digitus habitus summorum Icctioue principum. l-Jel-
lenden has here shown, not only the duties of a
senator or statesman, but upon what basis the rights
of a free but jealous people are erected, and the
hallowed care th'^e institutions demand which have
descended to us from our ancestors. This work was
published at I'aris in 1612, and, like the former,
was dedicated to Henry. I'rince of Wales. C)n the
title-page the author is termed "Magister Sup]ilicum
Lil)ellorum augu->ti Regis M.ignx' Britannia;',"' from
which it wouM apjiear that either there is a mistake
in describing him as master of requests to the King
of Scotland, or lie must have been subsequently ]ire-
ferred \.o tiie same office f)r ( ireat Britain. The
onice, since he reside 1 at I'aris, must have been a
sinecure, and was pri'baMy given lo iiiin as a means
of suslainin'' him in literarv leisure.

The next work of Bellenden was entitled Dc Statu
Prisci Orhis, in Rclii^ionc, A'c Politico, et iMeris, Itbcr
unus. It was printed, but may scarcely be describe<I
as published, in 1615. This is the mo^t original of
Bellenden's works. The exf)ressions and sentiments
are all his own, e.xce[)ting the quotations which he
takes occasion U> introduce from his favourite Cicero.
In this W(jrk he h.as "brought to light, from the
most remote anticjuity, many facts which had W-en
buried in oblivion. Whatever relates to the disci-
pline of the Persians and Egyptians, which was
obscure in itself, and very variously dispersed, he
has carefully collected, placed in one uniform point
of view, and polished with diligent acuteness. In
a manner the most i)lain and satisfactory, he has
described the first origin of states, their jirogressive
political advances, and how they differed from each
other. Those fabulous inventions with whieh Greece
has encumbered histor\', he ex[)lains and refutes.
Philosophy owes him much. He has confuted all
those systems which were wild and extravagant, and
removed the difficulties from such as were in their
operation subservient to religious piety. But he has
in particular confirmed and dignified, with every
assistance of solid argument, whatever tended to
serve the great truths of revelation. Much, how-
ever, as he has been involve<l in the gloom of ancient
times, he in no one instance assumes the character of
a cold unfeeling antiquary; he never employs his
talents upon those intricate and useless questions, in
endeavouring to explain which many luckless anfl
idle theologists torment themselves and lose their
labour. The style of Bellendenus, in this perftirm-
ance, is perspicuous, and elegant without affectation.
The different parts of the work are so well and so
judiciously disposed, that we meet with nothing
harsh and dissonant, no awkward interval or interru])-
tion, nothing jilaced where it ought not to remain.'

All these three works — namely, the Priuccps, the
Consul, and the Dc Statu Prisci Orbis — were repub-
lished in 1616 in a united form, under the general
title De Statu, Libri Trcs. Prince Henry being
now dead, the whole work was dedicated anew to
his surviving brother Charles; a circumstance wliich
aflbrded the author an opportunity of pacing z-.w
ingenious compliment to the latter prince:

" Uno .ivu'.so non deficit a'ter.

Aureus, et siiiiili froncv;icit virg.i n.c;ta!lo."

Of the justness of this eulogy the politician may have
some doubt, but the man of lecling w ill be captivated
by its elegance and pathos.

The last work which Bellenden himself puljlislud
is of ver\' small extent, consisting merely of t\\o
short poems: Carol i Primi ct J/cnriciC Mariu, 7\:i::s
ct Kci^iucc Ma^n<c Pritannia, ice. Kpithalamnnn : ct
in ipsas augiistissimas uuptias, Pauci:;\Tic!i?n Carnu':
ct Ploi^wa. Paris, 1675, 4to. ^^ would appear tl;r:t
Bellenden did not soon forget the kind ]iatrori.''.;^'e
which he had experienced in 'in King Jnmes, 1 i;t
transferred his gratitude, with his loyalty, to the
descendants of that prince. Thi^ is the 'iiily kiiov. :i
specimen of Bellenden's efforts in ]ioetn.'.

The Dc Statu, I.ibri Trcs, whieh jeihr,] s wltc
never ver\- extensively difl'useil, had la;;er'.} I'ec ::,e
50 extremely scarce, as only to be know;; ly ir.-i.e
to the most of scholars, from this o! -ci::;;y li;e
work was rescued in 17S7. by I »r. >.T:r.;:-, I I'.i:r. ;!.e
most eminent Briti>h I.atiiii-t ot i;i">icr:. ■;;:;e--. J 'r.
i'arr republished it in an elegant 1. n;i, ^^ ;;:i a i re!;"!-.;-,
whieh. tliouL;h embracing a siiiL.'ui.-'.r j-:i;.!'!e ol <\\\t-
ieet-. and hot free Iran the e]:a:,:e ■ f ; fiai;trv, ;.

i i.>rr-= I'.-

124

WILLIAM BELLENDEN

WILLIAM BERRY.

justly looked upon as one of the most admirable
specimens of modern Latin which we possess. Imi-
tating the example of Bellendenus, who prefixed
a dedication to each of his three books, the learned
editor inscribed them anew to three great men of
modern times, Edward Burke, Lord North, and
Charles James Fox, who were then the leaders of
his own party in British politics. In the preface he
introduced a high allegorical eulogy upon these
statesmen, which was admired as a singularly nervous
piece of composition, though there were, of course,
different opinions as to the justness of the paneg\'ric.
lie also exposed tlie plagiary wliich Middleton, in
composing his Life of Cicero, had committed upon
the splendid stores of Bellenden.

While Bellenden was employed in writing his
tripartite work, Dc Statu, he had Cicero constantly
before him. "His warmest attachment, and in-
creasing admiration," to quote the words of Dr.
Parr, "were necessarily attracted to the character
whose writings were the object of his unremitting
attention; whose expressions were as familiar to
him as possible; and whose various and profound
learning occupied all the faculties of his soul." He
now commenced a still more extensive and lal:)orious
cento of the writings of the Roman orator, which he
concluded in sixteen books, and which, with the
addition of similar centoes of the writings of Seneca
and I'liny the Elder, was to bear the name, Dc
Trihus Lii?>iiiiibns Romancrum. The Ciceronian
cento, the only one he lived to complete, is justly
considered a most extraordinary performance. By
an exertion of fictitious machinery, akin to the
modern historical romance, Cicero is introduced as
if he had spoken or written the whole from begin-
ning to end. The first seven books give a very con-
cise abstract of the Roman history, from the founda-
tion of the city to the 647th year, in which he was
born. Then he becomes more particular in the
account of his own times, and enlarges very fully on
all that happened after his first appearance in public
business. He gives an account of the most remark-
alile of his orations and epistles, and the occasions
on which they were written, as also of such of his
philosophical works as have come down to us, and
of some otlier pieces that are now lost, ending with
a letter he is supposed to have written to Octavianus,
afterwards named Augustus, which letter, however,
is supposed to be spurious. There cannot be a more
complete history of the life of Cicero, or of the
tumultuous times in wliich he lived, than this work,
all of which, by an exquisite ingenuity, is so faith-
fully compiled from tiie known woz'ks of the orator,
that probably there is not in the whole book a single
expression, perha])s not a single word, which is not
to be found in that great storeliouse of philosophical
eloquence. Nor is there any incoherence or awk-
wardness in this re-arrangement of Cicero's language;
but, on tlie contrary, the matter flows as gracefully
as in the original. "Whatever we find," says I'arr,
"in the different writings of Cicero, elegantly ex-
pressed, or acutely conceived, Bellendenus has not
only collected in one view, but elucidated in the
clearest manner. He, therefore, who peruses this per-
formance with the attention which it merits, will
possess all the treasures of antitiuity, all the energy of
tlie mightiest exani])les. He will obtain an adequate
knowledge of the Roman law and system of juris-
prudence, and may draw, as from an inexhaustible
source, an abundance of ex]iressions, the most ex-
quisite in their kind." In the opinion of another
critic,' it is inconceivable that Bellenden could have

1 The late Karl of liiicdan, who liad tlic extraordinary fur-
tiiae to pobSC:5.s a copy of tliis ra.-i; book.

composed this singular work without having the
whole of the writings of Cicero, and all the collateral
authorities, in his mind at once, as it must have been
quite impossible to perform such a task by turning
over the leaves of the books, in order to find the
different expressions suited to the various occasions
where they were required.

After the death of Bellenden, the date of which is
only known to have been posterior to 1625, the
manuscript of his great work fell into the hands of
one Toussaint du Bray, who printed it at Paris in
163 1 or 1634, and dedicated it to King Charles I. of
Great Britain. It is alleged that the iirincipal part
of the impression, about a thousand copies, was
shipped for sale in Britain, and was lost on the
passage, so that only a few copies survived. The
work therefore fell at once into obscurity, and in
a few years was scarcely known to exist. One copy
having found its way to the Cambridge University
Library, fell into the hands of Conyers Middleton,
the keeper of that institution, who seems to have
adopted the idea of making it the groundwork for
a life of Cicero under his own name. Hence has
arisen one of the most monstrous instances of literary
plagium which modern times have witnessed. The
work of Middleton at once attained to great reputa-
tion, and chiefly through that skilful arrangement
of the writings of the orator himself which Bellenden
had provided to his hands. The theft M'as first
denounced by Warton, and subsequently made clear
by Dr. Parr in his preface to the De Statu.

It is impossible to dismiss the life and singular
writings of William Bellenden, without a passing
expression of regret, that so much ingenuity, so
much learning, so much labour, may be expended,
without producing even the remuneration of a name
— for Bellenden, to use a phrase of liuchanan, is
a light rather than a name. His last work extended
to 824 pages in folio, and he contemplated other two
of similar size, and equal labour. Yet all this was
so futile, that the very next generation of his own
countrymen do not appear to have known that such
a man ever existed. Even after all the care of
bibliographers and others, which has searched out
the few facts embraced by this inq^erfect narrative,
the name of Bellenden is only known in connection
with certain works, which are, it is true, reputed to
be admirable of their kind, but, for every practical
purpose, are almost as entirely lost to the world at
large, as those libri perditi of Cicero, ^\•hich he has
himself alluded to with so much regret.

BERNARD, made abbot of Aberbrothock in 1303,
and the first chancellor of King Robert Bruce, after
his assumption of the crown in 1306, deserves a place
in this work, as the supposed writer of that spirited
remonstrance which the Scottish nobility and barons
transmitted, in 1318, to the Roman pontiff, asserting
the indejiendency of their country. He held the
great seal till his death in 1327. Crawford sujiposcs
that his surname was Linton.

BERRY, Wii.T.iAM, an ingenious artist, was bom
about the year 1730, and bred to the business of a
seal-engraver. A Iter serving an apprenticeship under
a Mr. i'roctorat Edinburgh, he commenced l)usiness
for himself in that city, and soon became distin-
guished for the elegance of his designs, and the clear-
ness and sharpness of his mode of cutting. At this
time the business of a stone-engraver in the Scottish
capital was confined to the cutting of ordinary seals,
and tlie most elaborate work of this kind to engraving
the armorial bearings of the nobility. Mr. lierry s
views were for several years confined to this common

WILLIAM BERRY.

125

dnulgcry of his art; but, by studying some ancient
entagli(js, he at length ventured into that higher
walk which bears the same relation to seal-engrav-
ing that historical painting does to portrait-painting.
The subject he chose for his first essay was a head
of Sir Isaac Newton, which he executed with such
precision and delicacy, as astonished all who had an
opportunity of observing it. The modesty of Mr.
Herry permitted him to consign this gem to the
hands of a friend in a retired situation of life, who
had few opportunities of showing it to others. lie
resumed his wonted drudgery, and for many years
"narrowed his mind" to the cutting of heraldic seals,
while in reality he must have known that his genius
fitted him for a competition with the highest triumphs
of Italian art. When he was occasionally asked to
undertake somewhat finer work, he generally found
that, though he only demanded perhaps half the
money which he could have earned in humbler en-
graving during the same space of time, yet even that
was grudged by his employers; and lie therefore
found that mere considerations of worldly prudence
demanded his almost exclusive attention to the ordi-
nary walk of his profession. Nevertheless, in the
course of a few years, the impulse of genius so far
overcame his scruples, that he executed various
heads, any one of which would have been sufficient
to insure him fame among judges of excellence in
this department of art. Among these were heads
of Thomson, author of The Si\7sons, Mary Queen of
Scots, Oliver Cromwell, Julius Cxsar, a young
Hercules, and Mr. Hamilton of Bangour, the well-
known poet. Of these only two were copies from
the antique; and they were executed in the finest
style of those celebrated entaglios. The young
Hercules, in particular, possessed an unaffected plain
simplicity, a union of youthful innocence with
strength and dignity, which struck every beholder
as most aj^propriate to that mytliological personage,
while it was, at the same time, the most difficult of
all expressions to be hit off by the faithful imitator of
nature. Berry possessed this perceptive faculty to
a degree which almost proved an obstruction, rather
than a help, in his professional career. In his best
performances he himself remarked defects which no
one else perceived, and which he believed might
have been overcome by greater exertion, if for that
greater exertion he could have spared the necessary
time. Thus, while others applauded his entaglios,
he looked upon them with a morbid feeling of vexa-
tion, arising from the sense of that struggle which
his immediate personal wants constantly maintained
with the nobler impulses of art, and to which his
situation in the world promised no speedy cessation.
This gave him an aversion to the higher department
of his art, which, though indulged to his own tem-
]iorary comfort and the advantage of his family, was
most unfortunate f )r the world.

In spite of every disadvantage, the works of Mr.
r>erry, few as tliey werein number, became gradually
known in society at large; and some of his piece's
were c\c\\ brought into competition, by some dis-
tinguished cognoscenti, with those of Piccler at
Rome, who had hitlierto been the unapproached
sovereign of this department of the arts. Although
the experience of I'iccler was that of a con.-tant
]iractitii)ner, while Mr. lierry had only attempted a
few pieces at lung intervals in tlie course of a labo-
rious life; although llie turnier lived in a country
where every artit'icial object wa> attuned to the prin-
cijiles of art, while Mr. Herry was reared in a soil
remarkable for tiie absence of all such advantages;
•the latter was by many good judges placed above liis
Italian contemporary. The respective works of the

two artists were well known to each other; and each
declared, with that manly ingenuousness which very
high genius aUme can confer on the human mind,
that the other was greatly his superior.

Mr. Berry posschscd not merely the art of imitat-
ing busts or figures set before him, in which hecouM
observe and co])y the prominence or depression of
the parts; but he possessed a faculty which pre^up-
])0ses a much nicer discrimination — that of being able
to execute a figure in rdu-.'o, with perfect justness in
all its parts, which was copied from a ])ainting or
drawing upon a flat surface. This was fairly ])ut to the
test in the head he executed of Hamilton of IJangour.
That gentleman had been dead several years, when
his relations wished to have a head of him executed
by Berry. The artist had himself never seen Mr.
Hamilton, and there remained no picture of him but
an imperfect sketch, which was by no means a strik-
ing likeness. This was put into the hands of Mr.
Berry by a person who had known the deceased
])oet, and who pointed out the defects of the resem-
blance in the best way that words can be made to
correct things of this nature; and from this jucture,
with the ideas that Mr. Berry had imbibed from the
corrections, he made a head which everyone who
knew Mr. Hamilton allowed to be one of the most
perfect likenesses that could be wished for. In this,
as in all his works, there was a correctness in the
outline, and a truth and delicacy in the expression
of the features, highly emulous of the best antifpics;
which were, indeed, the models on which he formed
his taste.

The whole number of heads executed by Mr. Berry-
did not exceed a dozen; but, beside the>e, he exe-
cuted some full-length figures of both men and ani-
mals, in his customary style of elegance. His atten-
tion, however, to the interests of a numerous family
made him forego those agreeable exertions, for the
more lucrative though less pleasing em]iloyment of
cutting heraldic seals, which formed his constant
employment for forty years together. In this dejiart-
ment he was, without dispute, the first artist of his
time; but even here his tnodesty, and that invari-
able desire of giving perfection to everything he put
out of his hand, prevented him fromdi-awing such
emoluments from his labours as they deserved. Of
this the following anecdote will serve as an illustra-
tion, and as an additional testimony of his very great
skill. Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, on succeeding to
his title and estates, was desirous of having a seal
cut, with his arms properly blazoned upon it. But,
as there were no fewer than thirty-two comimrtments
in the shield, which was of neces>ity confined to a
very small space, so as to leave room fiir the sup-
porters and other ornaments, within the compass of
a seal of ordinary size, he found it a matter of great
difficulty to get it executed. Though a native of
Scotland himself, the noble duke had no idea that
tliere was a man of first-rate eminence in this art in
lOdinburgh; and accordingly he had applied to ilie
best scal-engravcrs in Lontioiiand I'aris, all ot whon;
declared it to be beyond their >kill. .\t tli> time
Berry was mentioned to him with si;ch jioweriul re-
commendations that he was induced to | e,\- liin a
visit, and found him, as u^ual, sea;e I ."t lii> ul.eel.
The gentleman who had mentioned Mr. \\x\) s
name to the duke accompanied him on h> \>:t.
This person, witlioul introducing the lie.ke. >lio\\id
Mr. Berry tlie improsion of a ~hiell uiiiih the
duchess-dowager liad got cut a gooil m.'.i'.y ytiirs
before by a lew in I,i>ndon, now <le,'; !. n'-i which
had been shown to cth'-rs a- a jMt'.erii: .i-king linn
if he would cut a >eal the sinie .i~ ti'i.ii. Arer
examining it a liitle, Mr. Berrv a:i-weied readily

126

ALEXANDER BETHUNE.

that he would. The duke, at once pleased and
astonished, exclaimed, "Will you, indeed!" Mr.
Berry, who thought that this implied some doubt of
his ability to perform what he undertook, was a little
piqued, and turning round to the duke, whom he
had never before seen, he said, "Yes, sir; if I do
not make a better seal than this, I will charge no
payment for it." The duke, highly pleased, left the
pattern with Mr. Berry, and went away. The
original contained, indeed, the various devices of the
thirty-two compartments distinctly enough to be
seen; but none of the colours were expressed. Mr.
Berry, in proper time, finished the seal; on which
the figures were not only done with superior elegance,
but the colours on every part so distinctly marked
that a painter could delineate the whole, or a herald
blazon it, with perfect accuracy. For this extra-
ordinary and most ingenious labour he charged no
more than thirty-two guineas, though the pattern
seal had cost seventy-five. Thus it was, that,
though possessed of talents unequalled in tlieir kind,
at least in Britain, and assiduity not to be surpassed
— observing at the same time the strictest economy
in his domestic arrangements — Mr. Ben-y died at
last, in circumstances far from affluent, June 3, 1783,
in the fifty-third year of his age, leaving a numerous
family of children. It had been the lot of this in-
genious man to toil unceasingly for a whole life,
without obtaining any other reward than the common
boon of mere subsistence, wliile his abilities, in
another sphere, or in an age more qualified to ap-
preciate and employ them, miglit liave enabled him
to attain at once to fame and fortune in a very few
years. His art, it may be remarked, has made no
particular progress in Scotland in consequence of his
example. The genius of Berry was solitary, both in
resjject of place and time, and has never been
rivalled by any other of his countrymen. It must
be recorded, to the honour of this unrequited genius,
tiiat his character in private life was as amiable and
unassuming as his talents were great; and that his
conduct on all occasions was ruled by the strictest
principles of honour and integrity.

BETHUNE, Alex.-VNDER. This man, and his
younger l:)rother John, were choice specimens.of that
intellectual class of Scottish peasantry in which our
country happily abounds, and of which it is so justly
proud. Alexander, the subject of the present notice,
was born at Upper Rankeiilor, in the parish of
Monimai), in July 1S04. Such was the extreme
domestic poverty in wliich he was reared, that he
could not even obtain the ordinary share of a .Scottish
peasant's education; his whole portion in this respect
being four or five montlis' attendance at a subscrip-
tion sch(jol, wlien he was in his sixth year. But his
mother was a remarkable woman, and it was from
her that the two l^rothers mainly derived their educa-
tion, as well as tlieir energetic intellectual character.
At the raw age of fourteen he was set to break
stones on the highway, a strong man's occupation,
by which his tender bones and muscles were sorely
tried; and at the age of twenty-one he was enabled,
from the savings of his scanty pay, to enrol himself
in the evening classes of a school at the hamlet of
Lochend, near I/nvlores. Naturally desirous of
emerging from his uncnnif irtahlc jinsition, heljetook
liimsjlf to weaving with his brother John, but
scarcely had they man.nged to prDcure the necessary
ai>i)aratus, wjien the nicrcanlile dc])ressi()n of 1S25
and 1S26 compelled them lo abandon tlieir hopes of
the lf)om, and take occujjation as out-door labourers
at tlie wagi.'s of a shilling a-day. Thus employed in
such chance toil as he could (;ljtain, .Mexander, in

1829, while employed in a quarry, was thrown into
the air by a blast of gunpowder, and so dreadfully
mangled that his recoveiy was thought hopeless.
Three years after a disaster of the same character
befell him, but still more severe, by which he was
frightfully disfigured, and the effects of which he felt
till the end of his days.

Such a scanty education, and subsequent life of
hardship and penury, were little calculated to foster
the cultivation of literature: but Alexander Bethune
was no ordinary character; and those difficulties
which in others would have extinguished such ambi-
tion, only confirmed his resolution, and strengthened
him for the work. Accordingly, while breaking
stones on the highway, or blasting huge masses in
the quarry, he had never failed at every interval to
enlarge his knowledge by reading, and develop his
intellectual faculties by composition. In 1835 several
of his productions appeared in Cha7iibcrs'' Edinburgk
yoiirnal, and in 1838 he completed and published
a series of 7\iles and Sketches of the Scottish Fcasantry ,
part of which work was written by his brother John.
After several struggles and changes, which will tall to
be mentioned in the memoir of the latter, the two
brothers feueda small pieceof groundnear Newburgh,
and built there a cottage chiefly with their own
hands. Here also they prepared and published their
joint work, entitled Lectures oti Practical Economy,
which was issued from the press in 1839. After the
death of John, during the same year, Alexander made
a collection of his brothers poems, and published
them in 1840, with an interesting memoir of the
author. A copy of this work having fallen into the
hands of Mrs. Hill, wife of Mr. Frederick Hill,
inspector of prisons, that lady wrote to Alexander
Bethune, offering to use her interest in procuring
him a situation either as a teacher, or in some way
connected witli the prisons. It was a tempting offer
to one in his situation, and Alexander so far com-
plied with it as to try the office of a turnkey in the
prison at Glasgow. But a week's experience sufficed
him, and in March, 1841, he wrote a grateful answer
to the lady, respectfully declining her offer, and
stating that he did not wish an ajiplication to be
made for one wlio hatl no qualifications above those
of a common labourer.

In 1842 Alexander Bethune visited Edinburgh to
make arrangements for the publication of 7 he
Scottish Peasant's Fireside, \\hich ajipearcd early in
the following year. But this was the last of his in-
tellectual efforts, and his life of struggle was drawing
to a close. He hatl previously been attacked by
fever, and although the disease had been partially
cured, it had settled down into the more dangerous
form of ]nilmonai-y consumption. In one of the
delusive intervals of this insidious comjilaint, an offer
was made to him of t!ie editorshiji of the Dumfries
Standard, a ]iaper about to be started in that town,
while his salary as editor was to be fi<Xi a year.
Such a ])ros])ect of comfortable independence, and
with occupation so nuich to liis liking, ^^'as too
temjjting to be ovciiooked, and he signified his
readiness to accept the situation should the recovery
of his health be confirmed. But he ra])idly grew
worse, and died at Newburgh on the 13th of June,
1843, hi the tliirly-uinth year of his age. His
remains were interred in Abdie church-yard, in the
grave of his bioiJu'r foliii, with whom he had been
so cl(jsely uiiiteil during life by their mutual hard-
ships, ta^le^, and intellectual jnir.suils; and an in-
teresting volume of his /,//(■, C'orres/oin/e/tre, and
f.ilerarv Keinaius, was juiblished in 1845 by Mr.
William M't'ombie, a fanner of Abeidceuidiire, who
like himself had been a writer on social economy.

SIR HENRY LINDESAY BETHUXE.

127

BETHUNE, Sir Henry Lindesay, Bart. This
gallant soldier, whose character and deeds are still
cherished in the remembrance of the Persians, was
bom on the 12th April, 1787. He was of the ancient
family of the Lords Lindsay of the Byres in Fife-
shire, and s(jn of Major Martin Eccles Lindesay
Bethune, by a dauj,'hter of General Tovey. Eni-
bracinjj the military profession, he entered the East
India Company's service as a cadet in 1804, and by
successive steps rose to the rank of major. It was
not however in India that his high reputation was to
be won; but in I'ersia, to whicli country he was sent
for the purpose of aiding Abbas-Mirza, crown-prince
of I'ersia, in organizing his artillery; and he soon
became the favourite not only of that distinguished
prince, but of the whole Persian army. His personal
j)resence indeed was enough to secure the admi-
ration of such an imaginative, half-civilized people
as the Persians; for he was about seven feet in
height, while his successful deeds of daring seemed
to realize those wondbrful tales of ancient heroism
to which they loved to listen. One of his exploits
may serve as a specimen. During the war of the
Persians against Russia, and while the armies of the
two countries were in the field, Prince Abbas had
set out one day on a hunting excursion, accompanied
by his staff, and taking witli him the artillery horses,
to beat up for game. Availing themselves of such
an opportunity, the Russians made an attack upon
the Persian camp, and carried off Major Lindesay's
six brass guns. As soon as the major returned he
was made aware of the loss; and on surveying the
Russian encam|)ment with his glass, he saw the
six ginis ranged in front of their lines. At his
sunnnons his troojiers were instantly in the saddle;
at their head he charged across the plain; and after
a slujrt skirmish, in which the Russian advanced
posts were swept aside, he broke through and rode
down the troops opposed to him, and recovered and
brought back the guns in the face of the whole
Russian army.

Sixteen years were thus spent in the Persian
service, and the deeds of Bethune had made him the
h'au ideal of an invincible champion in the eyes of
the orientals. He was Rustan, the ancient Hercules
of Persia, revived, or a new one raised in his room.
But while his deeds fired their imaginations, his
kindness to the soldiers, his strict imijartiality, and
the justice with which he caused their arrears to be
paid in full — cjualities very unusual among eastern
commanders — made him almost an object of their
idolatrous worship, so that all were delighted to
obey such a leader, and ready to follow him to the
death. 1 laving successfully accomplished his missi(jn
to Persia, Bethune returned home; entered into
possession of his estate of Kilcon(]uhar in Fifeshire,
inherited from his grandfather, David Bethune of
lialfour, whose name he also adoiited; and in 1S22
married Coutts, eMot daughter of John Trotter of
Dyrham P.irk, IKrts. He now held the rank of
major-general in tiie Fast India Company's service,
front wiiich he retire<l; and although as yet only
tiiirty-five years nld, he had achieved enough for
lame, a;i<l ri-on hii^h enough for ami)ition. I'.ut
aiter an internii»i')ii of twelve jieaceful years, events
ag.iin >uniniiir,ed him to the field. 'I'hcv arn>e al~o
in I'cr>ia, the country with wiiich, next to Ids ov.ii,
he wa-. mo-^t cl'>-ely connected. i'"utteh AH .^hah,
the soverci^'a i>f I'er-i.i, had died; his eldest son.
Abbas, the p.itron and lVic;i<l of Iletlnme, had ai.-o
died during his tathci-'> lifciime; and the throne of
Per>ia had imw devolved on .Mahomed-M ir/n. tlie
son of Abba^-Miiva, and gr.ii;d-Mn I'f tile l.'.te Sitah
oi l'er,-.!a. Br.i in tlie Last nutliing i^ more prcc.'.rijus

I than the right of succession through royal hereditary
descent, and a pretender t<j the Persian throne ajj-
peared in the person of ZuUi Sultan, the younger
brother of Abbas, and uncle of the rightful heir, who
levied an army and proclaimed war to make his title
good. In this emergency Mahomed api)ealed to
England, which he was not likely to do in vain, as
the security (jf our rule in India was incompatible
with a usurpation and civil war in Persia; and at the
same time Bethune rejiaired to London, and offered
his services to government for the suppre.s.-,ion oi
those Persian disturbances. It was at once .seen
that the right man had voluntarily appeared at the
critical moment, and in 1834 he was sent to Persia,
with the local rank of colonel in Asia, and the office
of accredited agent of the I'.ritish government.

Great was the delight of the adherents of the right-
ful prince at the arrival of Bethune in their country
once more. The stories of his former chivalrous
deeds were still their favourite themes, and they
triumphed in the assured success of their cause, now
that he had reappeared to lead them onward. The
rebels were proportionably dismayed, and to get rid
of such a terrible enemy, the usuqoer, Zulli Sultan,
offered a reward of four thousand tomauns to any
one who would bring him this son of Shitan's head.
.\ still more serious difficulty to the royal cause ajj-
peared in the reluctance of those British officers who
[possessed the claim of seniority of service to ])lace
themselves under the command of Colonel Bethune;
but when he offered to take an inferior position, and
serve under an older officer, as a temporary arrange-
ment until the question should be settled by the
authorities at home, they were shamed by such noble
disinterested moderation, and unanimously recog-
nized his right to command. High as had been the
expectations of the Persians at his arrival, Bethune's
proceedings during the short campaign which fol-
lowed amply fulfilled them. \Vith the advanceil
guard of the shah's army, which he commanded, he
resolved to fall upon the rebels by surprise; but ft*r
this, such a swift and secret march was necessary
as the clumsy armies of the East can seldom accom-
plish. But he did accomplish it, although for the
purpose he was described as "dragging the army
after him." The result was worth the effort, tor
"he came, saw, and conquered" — fell upon the rebels
at unawares, scattered them by his fierce unexpected
onset, and conclusively extinguished the rebellion
by making Zulli .Sultan priscjiicr. By this decisive
victory, won in December, 1834. the way was opened
to the young shah for a succes.■^lul entrance into his
capital of Teheran, who on his part was not slack
to acknowledge the services of the contjuerer. He
heaped magnificent titles and gold medals upmi
Bethune, created him general ami master-general of
the artillery, and commanded that his worth and
good services sliould be inscrii)ed in the booksof llie
records of the kings of Persia. (Jne oi tlicsc di-iir.^-
tions w.as too reniarkalile in oriental eyes to ]';■
I)as.-ed over. He tlesired Bethune to select tiic be-".
steed in the royal stable; and when this \'.a> cImi;-,
the shah, after gracing tlie noble animal by ri ii:ig
on it into Teheran, presented it to tb.e r.ri:i-h C":n-
mander. The roval atlen^Ianls and r...Mo-> ivr.vr.-

strated with tlie
rieprive tl;e r^ ival

shah. ;

■ tud of
he answered, tliai he v.
!ii>r>es. if sv.ch culii be
gallant cliairipii ai. N'lr'.
in ackiiow led^'in,; tb,-.' va!
Persia. I ie \\a> in 1S35
of iiiai'ir-i^-L'ii.-r.-.! in I.i- i'
on tile riii 'A yi.v.S... i:-

d be-

ir.il.er

, l:i.-.:i

12S

JOHN BETHUNE.

patent. But no titles coukl aggrandize him in the
eyes of the Persians after this last campaign, in which
he had outdone all his former achievements, and the
public feeling is thus recorded in a jjrivate letter at
the time from Persia, which was published in the
United Service Gcizdlc: "Great is the name of
Lindesay in this country, and great ought it to be,
for certainly he was just formed for service in Persia
in troubled times like these. The confidence the
soldiers have in him is quite wonderful, and all
classes talk of him as if there never had appeared on
earth before so irresistible a conqueror."

Having seen the disturbances of Persia composed,
and the rightful heir established on the throne, Sir
Henry Botlume, in September, 1835, returned to .Scot-
land, and devoted himself to the jteaceful life and
duties of a country gentleman. In 1850, however,
his health having failed, it was hoped that a visit to
Persia and the inthience of its climate might renovate
his sinking constitution, and restore him to his
wonted activity. Thither accordingly the sick man
went; and the Persians who had seen him in the
days of his grandeur, when his appearance and deeds
were the realization of romance, now looked with
sympathizing sorrow upon the gigantic ruin of him
who had been their cherished hero and benefactor,
and who now seemed to have returned for the sole
])urpose of dying among them. This forelx)ding
was realized, f )r General IJethune died at Tabreez on
the iQtli of February, 185 1, and the event was be-
wailed by the Persians as a national calamity. Sir
Henry at his death left three sons and five daughters,
and was succeeded in his title and estates by his
eldest son. Sir John Trotter Bethune.

BETHUISrE, John. This poet and miscellaneous
writer, the younger brother of Alexander Bethune,
of whoni we have already given a notice, was born
at the .Mount, in the parish of Monimail, Fifeshire,
during the summer of 1810. As the poverty of his
parents had restricted the education of Alexander to
four or five months of school attendance, that of
John was limited to a single day, after which he
never was at school again. He was taught, however,
to read by his mother, and was initiated into
writing and arithmetic V;y his elder brother Alex-
ander, who was his teacher in boyhood, and guardian
and counsellor in more advanced years. Ilis first
employment was that of a cowherd, in which he
was emi)loyed for several years; but at the age of
twelve lie was obliged to join his brother in the
toilsome work of breaking stones on the turnpike-
road. Under the desire of bettering his condition,
ami l)y t'r.- advice of a comrade, he apprenticed him-
self eirly in 1S24 to a country weaver, and so
speetlily ac'inired dexterity in the trade, that at the
end of tile first year he found that he could earn
fifteen sii;]!ings a week. This was much better than
stone-breaking, and with the ho])e of being alile to
assist his aged parents, he resolved to f )llow weaving
as his fiiture cr.ifi, f )r wliicli purpose he purchased
a loom in 1825, and coninienced in earnest, with his
brother Alexander for jiis apprentice. But the
national mercantile (le])ression which f)llowed so
utterly disa])j)ointed his calculations, that his earn-
ings were so'MI reduced to six shillings weekly, and
finding that he could not get on at tiiis rate, he
returned to his old occu])ation as an out-door
lal>ourer.

Amitlst all these hardships and jirivations of boy-
hood a!id youth, John liethune had also to encounter
the evils attendant upon a delicate cc)nstitution, and
successive periofls of weak health repeatedly sus-
pended his labour in the fields. It was during these

inters'als that he consoled himself with reading and
composition, and under this harsh apprenticeship his
intellectual qualities were called forth and ripened
for action. As might be expected also, his poetical
talents obtained the preference: in such lonely exer-
cises, he found the easiest mode in which his intellect
could be tasked, and the fittest vent for his emotions;
and before he had completed his nineteenth year, he
had composed upwards of twenty poetical pieces of
considerable length, and all of them pervaded by
considerable beauty both of sentiment and language.
These attempts however, by which, in the course of
time, he might make himself independent of bodily
toil, for which he found himself unfitted, were for
several years prosecuted by stealth, as if they were
an offence denounced by every literaiy and in-
tellectual tribunal. It speaks much for the wonder-
ful modesty of the young poet, that he could so
carefully withhold the knowledge of such composi-
tions from his friends, and be content with the solitary
satisfaction of stolen waters, and bread eaten in
secret. None but his brother and his parents knew
how these lonely hours were employed. "Up to
the latter part of 1835," Alexander Bethune states
in the memoir of his brother, "the whole of his
writing had been prosecuted as stealthily as if it had
been a crime punishable by law. There being but
one a]iartment in the house, it was his custom to
write by the fire, with an old copy-book, upon which
his paper lay, resting on his knee, and this, through
life, was his only writing-desk. On the table, which
was within reach, an old newspaper was kept con-
tinually lying, and as soon as the footsteps of any
one were heard approaching the door, copy-book,
pens, and inkstand were thrust under the covering,
and before the visitor came in, he had, in general,
a book in his hand, and appeared to have been
reading."

Since October, 1829, John 15ethune had been em-
ployed as a day-labourer on the grounds of Inchrye,
in the neighbourhood of his birth-jilace; but in 1835,
on the death of the overseer, he was a]ipointed his
successor. The emoluments of this office consider-
ably exceeded anything he had formerly enjoyed, for
its salary was £2(3 a year, with the right of a cow's
pasturage. To this new situation he gladly betook
himself, with his brother Alexander as his assistant;
but their satisfaction was short-lived, for the estate
of Inchrye soon changed owners, which was followed
by a change of office-bearers. Under these circum-
stances, the brothers were obliged to leave their snug
appointment; and, to add to their misfortunes, the
new landhn-d recpiircd the little cottage at Lochend,
in which they had located their aged ])arents. Being
thus altogether homeless John and Alexander stoutly
resolved to erect a house for themselves, and this
they did chiefly with their own hands, at Mount
Pleasant, near Newburgh; and here the bold-hearted
intellectual peasants, after having tried various kinds
of hand-labour in vain, resolved to make literature
their principal resource. The career of the elder in
this department has been already stated, so that we
shall confine ourselves to that of John. He con-
tributed to the Scotlisk Christian Hcnild, Wi/son's ^
'J\i!cs of the Jiordcrs, and other serials, and supplied
five pieces to his brother's 'J ales aiui Skctehes oj the
Scottish J'easantry. He also jointly wrote with
.Alexander the J.eetures on /'rai-tica/ J-'.eoiioniy, de-
signed to improve the homes and haljitsoftlie ])oor,
and which was commended by the press, although
the work did not become popular. He had thus
tried the experiment of a literary life, and so far as
he had gone it had proved a failure. But still the
battle was not lost. His attempts, which were

HUGH BINNING

CHARLES BISSET.

129

wonderful for his education and circumstances, had
obtained honourable recognition where such recog-
nition could be available; he was not only young to
this new life, but also young in years; and a few
more attempts would have shown the qualities he
possessed, and established his reputation as a worthy
candidate for literary fame. It was too late, how-
ever, to attempt the trial anew. Deep mortification
at the failure of the work on Practical Economy
preying on a constitution already broken, brought
on pulmonary consumption, and he died at Mount
Pleasant on the ist of September, 1839, in the
thirtieth year of his age.

Thus passed away an obscurely born and hard-
handed son of toil, who, witiiout the training of
college or school, and with few of even the ordinary
opportunities of self-improvement, became a vigorous
original prose writer, and a poet of no ordinary
mark. While his writings in either capacity were
stamped with the impress of true genius, they also
showed much depth of reflection, ennobled by the
spirit of genuine devotional piety. And such also
was his daily life, simple, pure, and meditative,
showing a man far above the ordinary mark, and
isolated from the sphere in which he lived. His
poems, by which he was so little known while he
jived, but which will constitute his best commemora-
tion, were published by his brother Alexander, with
a memoir of their author, in 1840; and from the
profits of the second edition, a sufficient sum was
realized to erect a monument over the grave of John
Bethune in the churchyard of the village of Abdie.

BINNING, Hugh, an extraordinary instance of
precocious learning and genius, was the son of John
Binning of Dalvennan, a landed gentleman of Ayr-
shire. He appears to have been born about tlie
year 1627. In his earliest years he outstripped all
his seniors in the acquisition of Latin. At Glasgow
College, which he entered in his fourteenth year, he
distinguished himself very highly in philosophy.
What was to others only gained by hard study,
seemed to be intuitively known by Binning. After
taking the degree of Alaster of .-Vrts, he began to
study for the church. When Mr. James Daln,mple,
afterwards Lord Stair, vacated the chair of philo-
sophy at Glasgow, Binning, though not yet nineteen,
stood a competitor with some men of graver years
and very respectable acquirements, and gained the
object of his ambition by the pure force of merit.
Though unprepared for entering upon his duties, no
deficiency was remarked. He was one of the first
in Scotland to reform philosophy from the barbarous
jargon of the schools. While fulfilling the duties of
his chair in the most satisfactory manner, he con-
tinued his study of theology, and a vacancy occur-
ring in the church of Govan, near Glasgow, he re-
ceived a call to be its minister. Here he married
Barbara Simpson, the daughter of a Presbyterian
clergym.in in Ireland. As a preacher, Mr. Binning's
fame was very great : his knowledge was extensive,
and there was a fervour in his eloquence which bore
away the hearts of his congregation, as it were, to
heaven. .\t the division of the church into resolu-
tioners and protesters, he took the latter and more
zealous sitle, but yet was too full of virtuous and
benevolent feeling to be a violent partisan. In
order to heal the difference as much as possible, he
wrote a treatise on Christian love. When Oliver
Cromwell came to GI.xsijow, he caused a dispute to
be helil between his own Independent clergjmen
and the .*^cottish Presbyterian ministers. Binning
having nonplussed his opponents, Cromwell asked
the name of "that bold young man." On being told

VuL. I.

that he was callefl Mr. Hugh Binning, the sectarian
general said, "He hath Ixjund well, indeed, but"
(clapping his hand up(m his sword) "this will loose
all again." This excellent young preacher died of
consumption, 1653, in his twenty-sixth year, leaving
behind him a rejjutation for piety, virtue, and learn-
ing, such as has rarely l)een attained by any indi-
vidual under that age. Besides his treatise on Chris-
tian love, he wrote many miscellaneous pieces of a
pious nature, which were jjublished in 1732, in one
volume quarto. A selecti<m from these, under the
title of Evani^dical Beauties of Jfui^h liiuniug, a])-
peared in 1829, with a memoir of the author by the
Kev. John Brown of Whitburn.

BISSAT, OR BISSART, Peter, professor of the
canon law in the university of Bononia, was bom in
Fife in the reign of James V., being a descendant of
Thomas Bissat, or Bissart, who was Earl of Life in
the reign of David II. He received instructions in
grammar, philosophy, and the laws at the university
of .St. Andrews, and afterwards perfected his educa-
tion at that of Paris. Having then travelled into
Italy, he was honoured by the university of Bononia
with the degree of Doctor of Laws, and shortly after
became professor of the canon law in that seminar}-,
in which situation he continued for several years
"with great applause."

Bissat appears to have been a man of general
accomplishment — a poet, an orator, and a philoso-
pher; but his forte lay in the canon law. His
various writings were published at Venice in 1565,
in quarto, under the title Fatricii Bissarti Opera
Omnia, viz. Poemala, Orationcs, Lectioties Feriales,
ct Liber dc Irregiilaritate. The last of these com-
positions was a commentary on that part of the
canon law which gives the reasons assigned by the
Church of Rome for excluding certain laymen from
the clerical office.' Bissat died in the latter part of
the year 1568.

BISSET, Ch.\RI.ES, an ingenious physician and

1 Of these, as detailed by Bissat, an abstract may be inter-
esting to the British reader, now happily so little familiar with
the systems of the Catholic church. The primitive Christians,
in admitting the clergy, observed exactly the rules laid down
by St. Paul in the first epistle to 'I'imothy. Yet sometimes, as
we learn from St. Cyprian, at the pressing instance of the
people, persons of noted merit, who refused through humility,
were compelled to enter. By the canons, however, a man
required to be a deacon before he could be a priest, and a
priest before he could be a bishop. It was a general principle
of the church, that the clergy should be chosen from the most
holy of the laity, and, therefore, all liable to any reproach in
their lives and conversations were e.\cluded. .Agreeably to
this principle, which agreed with the injunction of St. Paul,
that they should be blameless and without reproach, the first
council of Nice excluded all those, specifically, who, alter
baptism, had lieen guilty of any sort of crime, such as heresy,
homicide, or adultery; nor was penanie any palliative, seeing
that the memory of the offence always remained; while it w,is
to be expected that those whose lives were without stain should
be preferred Jo those who had fallen. Thus all persons uh j
had performed penance were excluded. Those also were
deemed irregular, and not entitled to admittance, who l.ad
killed any person, by accident or in self-defence, or who had
borne arms even in a just war; who had twice married. < r
married a widow; or who engaged much ill worldly affair^: ail
of which circumstances were held as-derogating in sf.me Ctfrte
from the necessary- purity of the individual. I'he only •■thcr
moral disqualification was ignorance. The physical diMiuaii;:ca-
tions were almost cqiually numerous. All deaf. dumb, i r ! nr.u
persons were excluded, as unable to perf'>rm their functions in
a proper manner. .All persons who were lame, or had ar.y
deformity calculated to create an aversion in the ;K.";ile. were
declared unfit for orders. Ma(lne.-.s and self-nuitil.it: ;i ucre
disqualifications. All persons Ix.rn out of wedl^c'rc were ex-
cluded, because, however innocent the individual m hi^ ■ «n
person, the a.-.sociations which the sight of them w.is calcu-
lated to aw.aken were not favuiirat.lc to virt'.;c. S..ivc-. ser-
vants, children, and monastic clcrjjy without the ton^eiit of
their superiors, were excluded.

9

130

CHARLES BISSET JOHN BLACK.

writer on fortification, was born at Glenalbert, near
Dunkeid, in the year 171 7. It is only known, re-
garding his parentage, tliat his father was a lawyer
of some eminence, and a distinguished Latinist.
After a course of medical studies at Edinburgh, he
was appointed, in 1740, second surgeon of the
military hospital in Jamaica, and spent several years
in the West India Islands, and in Admiral Vernon's
fleet, in order to become acquainted with the diseases
of the torrid zone. But, while thus seeking to avert
disease from others. Dr. Bisset became himself liable
to its ravages. Having, in 1745, contracted ill
health at Greenwich in Jamaica, he was obliged to
resign his situation as second surgeon, in order to
return to Britain. In May, 1746, he purchased an
ensigncy in the 42d (Highland) regiment, then com-
manded by Lord John Murray. By this transition
his attention was turned from the medical to the
military profession, and fortification became his
favourite study. After a fruitless descent on the
coast of Brittany in September, 1748, and passing a
winter at Limerick in Ireland, the regiment was, in
the beginning of next campaign, brought into action
at Sandberg, near Hulst, in Dutch Flanders, where
one Dutch and two English regiments suffered very
severely. Here Dr. Bisset employed himself in
drawing a sketch of the enemy's approaches, and
some time after, in another of Bergen-op-Zoom, with
the permanent lines, the environs, and the enemy's
first parallel; which were presented by his colonel
to the Duke of Cumberland, the commander-in-chief
The duke was so much pleased with these specimens
of Dr. Bisset's military knowledge, that he ordered
him to attend the siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, and give
due attention daily to the progress of both the attack
and the defence, in order to form a journal of the
whole proceedings. This distinguished duty Dr.
Bisset undertook with a modest reluctance, the
result rather of inexperience than of any conscious-
ness of want of knowledge. The result, however,
was highly honourable to him. His journals, duly
illustrated with plans, were daily delivered to Lord
John Murray, who forwarded them every second or
third day to the duke, who was then at Maestricht,
at the head of the allied army, observing the motions
of the French army under Marshal Saxe. His royal
highness was pleased to express his approbation, by
recommending Dr. Bisset to the Duke of Montagu,
then master-general of the ordnance, who honoured
him with a warrant as engineer extraordinary to the
brigade of engineers; he was at the same time pro-
moted to a lieutenancy in the army. At the end of
the war, Bisset being placed on half-pay, he had full
leisure to pursue his studies in fortification, and also
to visit the principal specimens of the art upon the
Continent. The result was his Essay on (he Theory
and Constntction of Fortifications, which appeared
in 1 75 1, in 8vo.

His attention being now disengaged from this
pursuit, he resumed his original profession, and, for
the sake of a healthy air, whicli was necessary to his
weakly constitution, retired to practise at the village
of Skelton, in Cleveland, Yorksiiire, wiiere he spent
the remainder of his life. In 1755, when the Seven
Years' war was imiiending, he puhlished a 1 realise on
the Scitrzy, with Keimirks on tJie Cure of Scorbutic
Ulcers, wiiich he dedicated to Viscount Anson and
the other lords of the admiralty. In 1762 ajipearcd
his Essay on the Medical Constitution ofCrcat /Britain,
which he inscribed to his friend .Sir John I'ringle.
In this work he shows the effects of the change f)f
weather, and of the seasons, on the diseases of (ireat
Britain; and at tlic conclusion is an interesting pa]:)cr
on the virtues of the herb bcar's-foot in the cure of

worms. In 1765 the university of St. Andrews
conferred upon him the degree of M.D. In 1766
he published, at Newcastle, a volume of Medical
Essays and Observations, in which are upwards of
twenty papers on the climate and diseases of the
West Indies, which his experience in that country
had enabled him to illustrate in a most satisfactory
manner; besides some others on the chronic diseases
of Great Britain, particularly the hooping-cough and
the scorbutic itch, as well as many chirurgical
remarks, which show a mind bent on the improve-
ment of his profession. A few years before his
death he deposited in the library of the infirmary
at Leeds a manuscript of medical observations, in
octavo, and extending to nearly seven hundred pages;
for which the physicians of that institution honoured
him with a formal vote of thanks. Dr. Bisset also
presented a manuscript treatise on fortification to the
Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), which was
deposited in his royal highness's private library.
These, with a small published treatise on naval
tactics, and a few political papers, constituted the
whole of the intellectual exertions of this distinguished
man; who died at Knayton, near Thirsk, in May,
1791, aged seventy-five years.

BLACK, John. This eccentric genius and dis-
tinguished London journalist was born near Dunse,
Berwickshire, in 1783. He was of very lowly
parentage, and to add to the difficulty of attaining
eminence under such circumstances, he lost his father
in infancy, and his mother when he was only twelve
years of age. He gave, however, such early indica-
tions of talent and aptitude for learning, that his
mother, like a true Scottish dame of the lower
orders, hoped that her boy might at a future day
"wag his pow in a pu'pit," and had encouraged his
dawning genius by every means in her power.
Black was at an early age sent to the parish school
at Dunse, which was four miles distant, and these
eight miles in going and returning the boy trudged
daily on foot — a practice that laid the foundation of
those peripatetic habits which lasted with him through
life. Being unable, after the death of his mother,
to perfect his education so as to qualify himself for
realizing her hopes, he was obliged, at the age of
fourteen, to enter a factor's office in Dunse, as an
errand-boy; but after staying long enough in this
situation to discover that he was fit for something
better, he went in his eighteenth year to Edinburgh,
and obtained employment at a stationer's. Still
migrating upward, he became successively a clerk
in two, if not three, offices of writers to the signet in
Edinburgh. It was evident, however, from his
studies that these changes were only steps to a
different end; for by self-teaching he made himself
master of Latin and Greek, and not content with
classical learning, he acquired the German language
from an Austrian musician belonging to the lulin-
burgh theatre, and Italian from another foreign
musician, teaching them the iMiglish language in
return. He also acquired French so as to read it
with tolerable ease, but without being able to con-
verse in it with s"ufficient correctness.

After these acquirements, Black's growing aml)i-
tion carried him to London, the proper sphere where
he could turn them to the best account. He was
now twenty-seven years old when he set out on
this journey, which was performed solely on foot,
and he arrived in the great motro]iolis with only
three halfpence in his pocket. It was as hoj^cful a
foundation for a London fortune as the most enter-
prising Scotsman coidd desire. It was well for
lilack that he also brou;:ht letters of introduction to

JOHN BLACK.

»3i

Mr. Perry, the proprietor and editor of the Morning
Chronicle, one of these being from Mr. Gibson, after-
wards Sir James Gibson-Craig. Mr. Perry, an
admirable judge of such applicants, was pleased with
the bold active spirit and talents of the Scottisli
candidate, and employed him forthwith upon his
paper. Here he was not only at home, but among
the honoured, for the Morning Chronicle had lately
given employment to John Campbell, after\vards
Lord-chancellor of England, and to Mr. (afterwards
Serjeant) Spankie; while the reporters of the paper
at the time of Black's arrival and afterwards, were
chiefly Scotch and Irish young men of high talent
and promise. His employment as a member of this
staff was to translate the foreign journals, and to take
his "turn" as a reporter in the gallery of the parlia-
ment house. Black soon obtained the reputation of
being a very rapid reporter; but Mr. Proby, the
managing conductor under Mr. Perry, used to
declare, that his chief merit consisted in the wonder-
ful speed with which he moved from the House of
Commons to the office in the Strand. At this last
place, also. Black's eccentricities were still more
remarkable than his light-heeled speed. He kept
the reporters' room in a ferment by loud radical
declamations and debates upon the subject before the
house, while the overseer was worried by these
delays, which prevented the "copy" from being
delivered until the last moment. In consequence of
these peculiarities, Black was called by his compeers
the "Professor of Logic," and the "Flying Scotch-
man." Finding in the earlier part of his career in
London that something more than reporting in a
newspaper was necessary for his subsistence, he also
laid himself out for occupation among the booksellers,
not however in works of original authorship, but as
a translator. His translations were the following: —
Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, &c.,
from the French of A. de Humboldt, 4 vols. 8vo,
1811-12; Travels through Nonvay and Lapland,
from the German of Leopold, with notes, and a life
of the author, by Professor Jamieson, 4to, 1813;
Memoirs 0/ Coldoni, the Celebrated Italian Dramatist,
written by himself, from the French, 2 vols. 8vo,
1 8 13; and a Course of Lectures on the Dramatic Arts
and Literature, translated from the German of
Schlegel, 2 vols. 8vo, 1815.

The industry, perseverance, and talent of Mr.
Black were crowned with success, when, two years
before Mr. Perry's death (which occurred in 1821),
he was appointed principal editor of the Morning
Chronicle. So well also was his reputation estab-
lished, that he held this oftice in permanence, so that
when the paper was sold by Mr. Perry's executors
in 1823, Mr. Black was continued sole editor, and
sucli w.xs also the case when it was re-sold in 1834.
The whole period of his editorship comprised nearly
a quarter of a centur)', and during that time, how-
ever seldom he may have appeared in the streets of
the political world, or been recognized by the moving
crowds, he was still a power in the state that made
himself be felt by all parties alike, and next to the
Jupiter Tonans of the Times he occupied the highest
place in political journalism. His character while
holding this elevated position was enough to disarm
envy, and secure for him the general esteem. "He
wxs necessarily brought," says his biographer, "into
social and political intercourse, during that time,
with some of the principal men of his dav. And
it is but doing scanty justice to his memory to sav,
that no one knew him wlio did not love him for the
guilclcssness of his disposition; and admire him, not
only lor the vast range of his learning, liut for his
steriirg anil fearless honesty 01" I'l'.ri'cse, and his

sincere, earnest, and successful advocacy of liberal
principles."

The personal and domestic habits of Mr. Black,
even in London and while editor of such a journal,
were not only characterized by the simplicity of his
early life, but by an eccentricity in which few but
himself would have ventured to indulge. Instead
of having a separate mansion of his own, where he
could receive his titled friends, or play the courteous
patron before admiring dependants, he dwelt at his
workshop, occupying the higher story of the office
of the Morning Chronicle, in Norfolk Street, Strand.
He was twice married, but his first marriage was
under circumstances of which little is known. The
second Mrs. Black was Miss Cromeck, sister of the
artist of that name, residing in N'ewman .Street,
Oxford Street, where Black was a temporary lodger.
This person is described as a woman of remarkable
appearance, in person something like Meg Merrilies
in the tale of Guy Manneritig. The style of living
followed by the pair in the garrets of Norfolk Street
was such as to amaze strangers, and amuse their
acquaintances. The walls of the rooms were wain-
scotted with books, the floors were thickly carpeted
or rather paved with the same commodities, and
between the piles and pyramids it was a task of diffi-
culty for the visitor to thread his way. Even in the
bed-room, the sides of the bed itself were blocked up
with such stockades of volumes, that to enter it
laterally was impossible, and the pair were obliged
to effect a lodgment by creeping in at one end of
it. And these books were not to be moved, or
dusted by any hand but his own. In his walks
Black's constant attendant was a large Newfound-
land dog, named Cato, whom he used to tug along
from one bookstall to another, or to run with to and
from Blackheath and London at all hours of the
night.

In the enumeration of Mr. Black's literary- friends
who contributed articles and communications to the
Morning Chronicle, we have an interesting peep
behind the curtain of political journalism, and can
mark how an influential London newspaper is sup-
ported and conducted. The following quotation on
this subject would be too long, were it not for the
information which it gives to the uninitiated, on
which account we quote it almost entire:- —

"The late Duke of Sussex was an active purveyor
for him [Mr. Black] during the illness of George IIL
and the regency. His other frequent writers weie
Sheridan, Adair, D. Kinnaird, General Palmer,
Mr. E. Dubois, the Rev. Mr. Colton, Lord HoUanil
(very often), the late John Allan, Porson, Jekyll,
'Tommy Ilill,' Horace Smith, and other worthies
now no more. To these especially, and as more
eminent political writers, may be added the names
of Albany Fonblanque, James Mill, David Ricanio,
C. P. Thomson (afterwards Lord Sydenham), Mr.
M'Culloch (one of his most steady and attached
friends), and Mr. Senior. These gentlemen wrote
chiefly on subjects of political economy. Mr. Chad-
wick, of course, provided Mr. Black with amjile
material on the poor-laws. Mr. Francis Place, thou;^h
a Charing-cross tailor, supplied Mr. Black, as als )
did Mr. Hume, with invaluable material in th.e (;iiM.i;.>-
sion of the repeal and alteration of the combir.a'.;i)n
laws, and the export of machinery, in 1S24-5.
Many members of the Upper House also fr.nr.-l.cd^
him with contributions, especially the 'Jrckcy (.1
Norfolk '—called the first I'lotestr.nt duke, tlic I.r.e
Lords Erskine, Moira, Lauderdale. Duriinm. .".r.d
Essex. Among the deceased conimr.ncr.-- v.c I'.ave
omitted honourable mention of ib.c !.-.te (_l;r.r!ts
BuUcr, who v.\ 1S30, then a ^iiidL:;; ;:; Mr. C-.^uuli.':,

132

JOHN BLACK.

chambers, first used his pen for Mr. Black in lively
and brief articles. The supposed ghost of Junius
also haunted the editor's room. Sir Philip Francis
was the author of the 'Historical Questions' which
appeared in the Chro7iick; and Proby, the sub-editor,
was struck by the similitude of the hand-writing to
the facsimiles of the letters of Junius in the Public
Ledger. Sir Philip long occasionally communicated
both with Mr. Perry and Mr. Black.
Lord Brougham's hand-writing was well known
during the queen's trial, and for fully a quarter of a
century afterwards. The Right Hon. Edmund Ellice,
the member for Coventry, was, years since, a frequent
and valued correspondent. . . . Mr. Joseph
Parkes was a constant contributor from 1824 to later
years; and we believe that gentleman penned in
Birmingham most of the leading articles in the
Chronicle on tithes, during the public agitation of
that question and the commutation act. The same
hand kept up a constant cannonade in Black's
leaders on municipal, and parliamentary, and law
reform, preceding 1831, and subsequently to the
later settlement of those questions. Colonel Thomp-
son had also his entree to Black's private room, and
early launched the corn-law question, years before
the ^L^nchester League and Sir Robert Peel 'settled'
it. Old Colonel Jones, in the Aforning Chronicle,
as well as in the Times, in 1830, 31, and 32, dis-
charged his rifle-shots into the ranks of the 'corrup-
tionists' of that day. Tom Moore deposited with
Black occasional prose leaders on Irish party sub-
jects. He also contributed poetry both to the
Chronicle and the Times. Black's old friend and
schoolfellow, Mr. Thomas Young, now living, was
another invaluable friend of both journals, especially
in the crisis of the reform acts, writing numerous
articles for the Chronicle; and also keeping the press
au courant in such information as Lord Melbourne
(to whom Mr. Young was then private secretary)
considered important for the right direction of public
opinion. Sir Robert Peel, with all his prudery,
did not think it inconsistent with his dignity to send
a 'communication' now and then, with 'Sir Robert
Peel's compliments.' He also had communications
from Windsor in subsequent reigns. George HL
was more than suspected by Mr. Black of the per-
petration of a leading article, the subject being him-
self; but the proof in this case was presumptive, not
positive, though quite satisfactory to Mr. Black.
Xor was Black's useful connection confined only to
noblemen and gentlemen. He had a powerful corps
of female contributors, among whom were the late
Miss Edgeworth, and Mrs. Marcet, Lady Caroline
Lamb, and, subsequently, a living lady of singular
talent and force of mind, wife of an eminent his-
torian."

In this detail of the gratuitous assistants of the
editor of the Morning Chronicle, the reader can
easily detect the secret of the power of a London
newspaper. While its literary character occupies so
high a place, the correctness and importance of its
political intelligence make it the observatory by
which the timepieces of public opinion are regu-
lated. While the contributors, however, can pre-
serve this incognito with the public, they cannot
tiius conceal themselves from the editor, and being
the possessor of such dangerous knowledge, his
character must be well cstal)lished for integrity,
pnidence, and secrecy, before such a power can be
intrusted to his hands. But this character Mr.
Black possessed in an eminent degree. While his
political acquaintanceship was so extensive, and
while so many compromising articles were confided
to his keeping, both by British and Irish statesmen

and literary celebrities, in every case their secret was
kept with inviolable fidelity. Nor was his sagacity
in discovering youthful talent, and his readiness to
cherish and bring it forward, inferior to his other
qualities; and many a young writer whose early
attempts he encouraged and liberally rewarded,
found his patronage their first stepping-stone to
fortune and fame. Thus, among others, it was with
the celebrated Charles Dickens, who in his youth
was a reporter to the Morning Chronicle, while
Black was its editor. In a period of political
turmoil, while public resentments are hot, and the
language of journalism unmitigated, it is almost
impossible for the editor of a great leading organ of
public opinion to hold onward in his course un-
checked; and hostile invitations will occasionally be
sent to him requiring both wisdom and self-denial to
refuse. Such was the case with Black, who on two
occasions was "called out," in one instance by a
professional colleague, to whom he had expressed
certain political opinions too strongly, and in the
other by Mr. Roebuck, who supposed Black to be
author of an article in the Chronicle, which, how-
ever, he did not write. Plappily both "affairs of
honour," as they are called, terminated bloodlessly,
and the Gothic custom has now fallen into contempt.

Of the many statesmen with whom Mr. Black's
position brought him into contact, one was Lord
Melbourne, while he held the office of premier, who
took great delight in the varied learning, extensive
information, and simplicity, bluntness, and good-
nature of the editor. In consequence of their mutual
esteem, they were enabled at their interviews to
unbend from the cares of politics, and find refuge in
the literature of the past age, or general chat upon
the living world around them. At one of these
meetings Lord Melbourne said abruptly, "Mr.
Black, you are the only person who comes to see
me, who forgets who I am." Black stared, and
the other added, "You forget that I am prime min-
ister." The editor was about to offer an apology,
when the jaunty easy-minded premier continued,
"Everyljody else takes especial care to remember it;
but I wish they would forget it; for they only re-
member it to ask me for places and favours. Now,
Mr. Black, you never ask me for anything, and I
wish you would; for, seriously, I should be most
happy to do anything in my power to serve you."
"I am truly obliged," said Black, "but I don't want
anything: I am editor of the Morning Chronicle; I
like my business, and I live happily on my income."
"Then by G — I envy you," cried his lordship, "and
you're the only man I ever did."

Mr. Black retired from the management of the
Morning Chronicle in 1844, "under circumstances,"
adds his biographer, "which excited some regret
among the liberal party, but on which it is not
necessary for us to dwell." This oljliged him to
]iart with his library, a large and valual)le Cdllection,
for he had lieen, through the greater part of his life,
an enthusiastic book-hunter — and with the proceeds,
added to a sum contributed by the ]->roprietors of the
Chronicle, and other sums collected for him among
the leaders of the lil)eral party, he purchased for
himself a small annuity, which was sufficient for all
his simple wants. He also tenanted a cottage at
Birling, in Kent, which he hail, with a piece of
grouncl to cultivate, from one of his friends at a
merely nominal rent, and here he passed the re-
maining years of his life in rural occupations and
contemplation, unmoved by the roar of those political
elements amidst which he had dwelt so long. Here,
also, he finally sickened, and here he died in
June, 1855.

•y^i^^i&g-^f'^

.:^'3^'-"'^

JOSEPH BLACK.

133

BLACK, Joseph, M.D., "the illustrious Nestor
(as he has been termed by Lavoisier) of the chemical
revolution," — was nut a native of Scotland, having
been born on the banks of the Garonne, in France;
but as his father was of Scottish extraction, while
his mother was a native of that country, and as Scot-
land, further, was the scene not only of the better
part of his life, but of all those exertions in science
which will transmit his name to posterity, it seems
proper that he should obtain a place in this work,
even at the expense of a slight violation of its lead-
ing principle.

John Hlack, the father of the illustrious subject of
this memoir, was a native of Belfast, descended, as
already mentioned, from a Scottish family, which
had for some time been settled there. For the pur-
pose of carrying on the profession of a wine merchant,
he resided chiefly at Bordeaux, where he married a
daughter of iMr. Robert Gordon of Hillhead in Aber-
deenshire, a gentleman who also resided at Bor-
deaux, and was engaged in the same trade. The
sister of Mrs. Black was mother to Mr. Russel, pro-
fessor of natural philosophy in the university of Edin-
burgh, and their aunt was mother to Dr. Adam
Ferguson, professor of moral philosophy in the same
college, and author of the History of the Roman Re-
public. While Mr. John Black resided at Bordeaux
he was honoured with the friendship of Montesquieu,
who was president of the parliament or court of
justice in that province. The regard which Mont-
esquieu entertained for Mr. Black was testified in the
warmest terms when the latter was proposing to
return to his native country-. "I cannot," said he
on that occasion, "be reconciled to the thoughts of
your leaving Bordeaux. I lose the most agreeable
])Ieasure I had, that of seeing you often, and forget-
ting myself with you."

Dr. Black was born in the year 1728. In 1740,
a few years before his father retired from business,
he was sent home, in order to have the education of
a British subject. After spending some time at the
schools of Belfast, he was sent, in 1746, to complete
his studies at the college of Glasgow. Here his at-
tention became decidedly fixed upon physical science;
insomuch that, on being desired to select a profession,
he chose that of medicine, on account of its allowing
the greatest scope for such studies. It was about
this time that Dr. Cullen had been appointed lecturer
on chemistry in Glasgow university. Hitherto this
science had been only treated as a curious, and, in
some respects, a useless art. This great man, con-
scious of his own strength, and taking a wide and
comprehensive view, saw the unoccupied field of
philosophical chemistry open before him. He was
satisfied that it was susceptible of great imjirove-
ment, by means of liberal inquiry and rational inves-
tigation. It was perhaps the good fortune of Dr.
Black in falling under such a master, that gave his
mind a peculiar bent in favour of this department of
physical science. His previous acquirements and
extraordinary aptitude speedily became known to
Dr. Cullen, who was at all times remarkable for the
personal attentions he jiaid to his jnipils. Black be-
came a valuable assistant to Dr. Cullen in his chemi-
cal operations, and his experiments were sometimes
jiublicly adduced in the lecture, as a sufficient autho-
rity for various new facts. Thus commenced a
friendship between two great men, which was never
afterwarils internipted until their death, and which
was of considerable service to mankind.

In 1 75 1 151ack was seni to F.dinburgh to complete
the course of his medical studies. .Xt this time the
mode of action of lithotriptic medicines, but par-
ticularly lime-water, in alleviating the pains of stone

and gravel, divided the opinions of professors and
practitioners. This subject attracted the attention
of Black ; and it appears from some of his memor-
andums that he at first held the opinion that the
causticity of alkalies was owing to the igneous matter
which they derive from quicklime. Having prose-
cuted his experiments on magnesia, the grand secret
of nature, which for ever will be associated with his
name, was laid open to him. He perceived that the
acrimony of these substances was not owing to their
combination with igneous particles; that it was their
peculiar property; and that they lost this property,
and became mild, by combining with a certain por-
tion of air, to which he gave the name of fixed aik,
because it was fixed or become solid in the substances
into the composition of which it entered. He dis-
covered, for instance, that a cubic inch of marble
consisted of half its weight of pure lime, and a quan-
tity of air equal to six gallons measure. This grand
discovery, which forms one of the most important
eras of chemical science, was the subject of his in-
augural essay on obtaining his degree as Doctor of
Medicine; and the reputation it acquired for him was
the means, in 1756, of placing him in the chair of
chemistry at Glasgow, then vacated by Dr. Cullen,
who was transferred to the same chair in the college
of Edinburgh. The theory of fixed air (now termed
by chemists carbonic acid gas) was speedily propa-
gated on the Continent, where at this time chemistry
was occupjing the attention of many great men.
In Germany, Dr. Black's opinions, though placed on
the firmest basis by experiments, met with much op-
position, which, it appears, gave him an uneasiness
not to have been expected from his philosophical,
and rather indolent, character. In I" ranee, however,
he was very differently treated. Lavoisier, in send-
mg him a copy of his treatise on respiration, thus ex-
pressed himself: "It is but just you should be one of
the first to receive information of the progress made
in a career which you yourself have opened, and in
which all of us here consider ourselves your disciples."
To this Black replied, with a just admiration of what
the French chemistswere doing, and without reference
to any merit of his own.

On his assuming the chair of chemistrj- at Glasgow,
that of anatomy was also imposed upon him; but this
latter he soon exchanged for that of medicine, for
which, it would appear, he was better qualified. 1 ie
gave great satisfaction by the perspicuity and sim-
plicity, the caution and moderation, which he dis-
covered in his medical lectures. At the same time,
he became a favourite practitioner in the city, wliere
hisengaging appearanceand manners, and the benevo-
lent and unaffected interest which he took in all the
cases intnisted to his care, rendered him a most wel-
come visitor in every family. His princijial friend at
Glasgow was his associate Dr. Adam .Smith, professor
of moral philosophy, with whom he had become in-
timate when attending the university as a student.
.\ peculiar simplicity and sensibility, an incorruplil>le
integrity, the strictest delicacy and correctne^s of
manners, marked the character of each of the jih.iloso-
phers, and firmly bound them in the closest union.

"It seems to have been between the years 1759
and 1763^ that his speculations concerning iiKAi.
which had long occupied his thoughts, were hroii_;;!it
to maturity. And when it is consitlered by wl.at
simple experiments, by what familiar ohserv.itin;-.>.
Dr. Black illustrated the laws of lluidity and ev.i]" ora-
tion, it appears wonderful th.it they had not long

1 The following most intcrestint; account of one of the pnr-
cip.-il disc'-ivcries in modern science is fr.>m_ a b-oj^r:iphic.il
ni.-moir, preU-ved by IVufcaaor Kubisjn to Dr. L^acii. i 1 ettu.-es.

134

JOSEPH BLACK.

before been obsen-ed and demonstrated. They are,
however, less obvious than might at first sight be
imagined, and to have a distinct and clear conception
of those seemingly simple processes of nature re-
quired consideration and reflection. If a piece of
wood, a piece of lead, and a j)iece of ice are placed
in a temi>erature much inferior to that of the body,
and if we touch the piece of wood with the hand, it
feels cold; if we touch the piece of lead, it feels colder
still; but the piece of ice feels colder tiian either.
Now, the first suggestion of sense is, that we receive
cold from the wood; that we receive more from the
lead, and most of all from the ice; and that the ice
continues to be a source of cold till the whole be
melteil. But an inference precisely the contrary to
all this is made by him whose attention and rellec-
tion has been occupied with this subject. He infers
that the wood takes a little heat from the hand, but
is soon heated so much as to take no more. The
lead takes more heat before it be as much satiated;
and the ice continues to feel equally cold, and to carry
off heat as fast as in the first moment till the whole
be melted. This, then, was the inference made by
Dr. Black.

"Boerhaave has recorded an interesting obser\'a-
tion by Fahrenheit, namely, that water would some-
times grow considerably colder than melting snow
without freezing, and would freeze in a moment when
shaken or disturbed, and in tiie act of freezing give
out many degrees of iieat. Founded on this observa-
tion, it appears that Dr. Black entertained some vague
notion or conjecture that the heat which was received
by the ice during its conversion into water was not
lost, but was still contained in the water. And he
hoped to verify this conjecture by making a com-
parison of the time required to raise a pound of water
one degree in its temperature, with the time required
to melt a pound of ice, both being supposed to
receive the heat equally fxst. And that he might
ascertain how much heat was extricated during con-
gflation, he thought of comparing the time required
to depress the temperature of a pound of water one
<legree with the time required for freezing it entirely.
The plan of this series of experiments occurred to
him during the summer sexson. But for want of ice,
which he could not then procure, he had no oppor-
tunity of putting tliem to the test. He therefore
waited impatiently for the winter. The winter ar-
rived, and the decisive experiment was perfomied in
the month of December, 1 761. From this experi-
ment it apj>eared that as much heat was taken up by
tlie ice during its liquefaction as would have raised
the water 140 degrees in its temperature, and on the
other hand, that exactly the same fpianlity of heat
was given out during the congelation of tiic water.
But this experiment, the result of which Dr. Black
eagerly longed for, only infonned him how much heat
was atis'>r!>ed by tlu ice during liquefaction, was re-
tained by the water while it remained fluid, and was
again emitted by it in the jirocess of freezing. But
his mind wxs flceply imj)ressed with the truth of the
doctrine by reflecting on the observations that pre-
sented themselves when a frost or thaw hai)])ened to
prevail. The hills are not at once cleared of snow
during the sunshine '>[ the brightest winter day, nor
were the jx>nds suddenly covered with ice during
a single frosty night. Much heat is alisorbed ami
fixed in the water during the melting of the snow;
and, on the other hand, while the water is changc<l
into ice, much heat is extricated. During a thaw the
thermometer sinks when it is removed from the air
an'l placed in the melting snow; anri fhiring severe
frost it rises when plunged into freezing water. In
the first ca^e the snow receives heat, and i:i tlie last

the water allows the heat to escape again. These
were fair and unquestionable inferences, and now they
appear obvious and easy. But although many ingen-
ious and acute philosophers had been engaged in the
same investigations, and had employed the same facts
in their discjuisitions, those obvious inferences were
entirely overlooked. It was reserved for Dr. Black
to remove the veil which hid this mystery of nature,
and by this important discovery to establish an era
in the progress of chemical science — one of the
brightest, perhaps, which has yet occurred in its
histor)-."

Dr.' Black explained his theory of laU-nt heat —
such was the name he himself gave to it — to the
members of a literaiy society, April 23, 1762, and
afterwards laid before his students a detailed view
of the extensive and beneficial effects of this habitude
in the grand economy of nature. From observing
the analogy between the cessation of expansion by
the thennometer during the liquefaction of the ice,
and during the conversion of water into steam, Dr.
Black, having explained the one, thought that the
phenomena of boiling and evaporation would admit
of a similar explanation. He was so convinced of
the truth of this theory, that he taught it in his lectures
in 1761, before he had made a single experiment on
the subject. At this period his prelections on the
subject of evaporation were of great advantage to
Mr. James Watt, afterwards so distinguished for his
application of steam-power. His discovery, indeed,
may be said to have laid the foundation of that great
practical use of steam which has conferred so immense
a blessing upon the present age.

In 1766, on Dr. Cullen being removed from the
chair of chemistry at Edinburgh, to that of medicine,
Dr. Black, as formerly, supplied the vacant place.
In this new scene, he saw that his talents would
Ijecome more conspicuous, and of more extensive
utility. He was therefore encouraged to devote
himself, with still more enthusiastic zeal, to his
duties as a chemical teacher. In this he was so far
successful, that chemistry at length became a fashion-
able study in the Scottish capital, and a necessary
part of the education of every gentleman. After
this period, however, he retired from the field of
chemical research, which now began to be occupied
by a great number of distinguished philosophers.
The cause of this was the delicate state of his health,
aided, perhaps, a little by that indolence, or rather
perhaps absence of ambitious motive, which has been
already alluded to. It is to be regretted that, for
the same reason, he can scarcely be said to have
published anything to the world, by which his dis-
coveries might be permanently secured to the honour
of his own name. From the period of his accession
to the chemical chair at Edinburgh, he was, for
tliirty years, a most distinguished member of the
jirofessional society which then adorned the capital,
and has since given such an Augustan eclat to the
latter jieriod of the eighteenth century. Whatever ob-
struction his health proved in the way of jiublishing,
it never marred the active discharge of his duties.
His courses became every year plainer and more
familiar, and were attended by a larger number of
pupils. The simplicity and elegance of his experi-
ments were always much admired. His manner and
appearance were j)eculiarly pleasing. His voice in
lecturing was low and fine, and his articulation so
distinct that it was perfectly well heard by a large
audience. His discourse was remarkable for plain-
ness and jierspicuity; all his illustrations, whether
by ex])eriment or by reference to the processes of
nature, were (luite aj^posite ; his hearers rested
with the most entire confidence on his conclusions.

JOHN BLACKADDER.

135

and even the most illiterate could not mistake his
sentiments.

Dr. Hlack's conduct in private life was marked by
a striking dejjree of decorum, without the slightest
approach to formality. His habit of studying
l)liysical science rendered him very much a man of
facts and demonstrations: he is said to have been so
entirely destitute of fancy, or to have so effectually
rjpressed that faculty, that he never was known to
iitier a joke. In his domestic affairs he was rigidly
fru;^al antl methodical; yet his house was open to
an enlightened hospitality, in whicli he enjoyed as
much of the society of his friends as his delicate
health would permit. His chief friends were Smith,
Hume, Carlyle, Home, and Hutton. The last was
closely connected with him in philosophical pursuits,
as well as in the bonds of private friendship — not-
withstanding that there were some striking points of
difference between the two men. In his latter days,
Dr. Black sunk into a low state of health, and only
preserved himself from the shocks of the weather in
this variable climate by a degree of care almost fan-
tastic. Thus he spun out the thread of life to the
last fibre. It was his generous and manly wish that
he might never live to be a burden to his friends;
and never was the wish more completely gratified.
On the 26th of November, 1799, and in the seventy-
first year of his age, he expired, without any convul-
sion, shock, or stupor, to announce or retard the
approach of death. Being at table with his usual
fare — some bread, a few prunes, and a measured
quantity of milk diluted with water, and having the
cup in his hand when the last stroke of the pulse
was to be given, he had set it down upon his knees,
which were joined together, and kept it steady with
his hand in the manner of a person perfectly at ease,
and in this attitude expired, without spillmg a drop,
and without a writhe in his countenance; as if an
experiment had been required to show to his friends
the facility with which he departed. His servant
opened the door to tell him that some one had left
his name, but, getting no answer, stepped about half-
way towards him, and seeing him sitting in that easy
posture, supporting his basin of milk with one hand,
he thought that he had dropped asleep, which he
had sometimes seen happen after his meals. The
man went back and shut the door, but before he got
down-stairs, some anxiety that he could not account
for made him return and look again at his master.
Even then he was satisfied, after coming pretty near,
and turned to go away, but again returned, and
coming quite close, found his master without life. Dr.
Black, wlio had never been married, left more money
than any one had thought he could have acquired
in the course of his career. It was disposed of by
his will in a manner highly characteristic. Being
divided into ten thousand shares, it was parcelled
out to a numerous list of relations in shares, in
numbers, or fractions of shares, according to the
degree in which they were proper objects of his care
or solicitude.

BLACKADDER, John, a distinguished preacher
of the time nf the /cVj,-,vc/'/(';/, was tlie re]irescntative
of an ancient but decayed family — Blackadder of
Tulliallan — and was born in the year 1615. He
was nephew to Principal .Strang of Glasgow, and
grand-nephew to the famous chorographer Timothy
Bont. His tiieological education took place under
the eye of the former of tliese eminent men, and
having been duly licensed by the Pre>l)yterian church,
then in its highest purity and most triumphant dom-
ination, he receivetl a call, in 1652, to the parish
church of Troqueer, in the neiglibourhood of Dum-

fries. Previous to this period he had married the
daughter of a wealthy merchant of that town, named
Haning. Mr. Blackadder commenced his minis-
terial labours with a zeal which seems to have been
singular even in those times. He, in the first place,
gathered around him a very active body of elders,
whom he set to work in every direction, ujX)n the
task of cultivating the religious mind of the parish.
He also instituted a very strict system of moral dis-
cipline among his flock. Not content with the
weekly sermons on Sunday, he instituted lectures
on the ordinary days, which were attended by many
persons from a distance. He also projected a
plan for occasionally interchanging duty with the
neighbouring parochial clcrg}-, which was carried
into effect within the entire limits of the j)resbytery,
and is said to have been attended with the' lx;st
results. The church at this time rested undisturbed
under the sway of Cromwell, who gave it toleration
in every respect except as a collective body; Mr.
Blackadder, therefore, found no bar to his progress,
which was so exceedingly rapid, that in less than
two years he had the satisfaction of seeing a thorough
reformation in the devotional habits of his parish-
ioners. Evil days, however, came at last. In 1662
the Episcopal form of church-government was forced,
by the restored house of Stuart, upon a people who
were generally repugnant to it. Mr. Blackadder, so
far from complying with the new system, employed
himself for several successive .Sundays in exposing
what he considered its unlawfulness, and, in his own
words, "entered his dissent in heaven" against it.
The presbytery of Dumfries, upon which the influence
of so zealous a mind was probably verj' great, gave
a positive refusal to an order of the parliament to
celebrate the anniversary of the restoration at a
festival. A party of fifty horse was accordingly sent
to bring the whole of this refractor)' band of church-
men to Edinburgh. On the day of their arrival at
Dumfries, Mr. Blackadder was engaged to preach in
the town church. He was entreated not to appear
in the pulpit, lest he should exasperate the soldiers
against him; but instead of taking this advice, he
desired the gallery to be cleared, in order that the
military might attend his sermon. They did so,
and listened decorously to the denunciations which
he could not help utterhig against all who had been
concerned in the late religious defections. He and
some of his brethren were next day conducted in an
honourable captivity to the capital, where he under-
went some examinations, but was speedily released
by the interest of his friends. He was now, how-
ever, obliged to demit his charge, in favour of an
Episcopal incumbent. On the last Sunday of October
he preached a farewell sermon to his attached flock.
"This," we are informed, "was a day of anxious
expectation throughout the countr)', and made an
impression on the minds of those who witnes^ed it
never to be forgotten. The church of Tro(;ueer
stood (as it now does) upon a gentle eminence on
the banks of the Nith, commanding an cxtensi\e
view of the sun'ounding country, which, in the neii^h-
bourhood of Dumfries, presents a delightful variety
uf local scenen.-. On the morning of that nieni( ar-
able Sabbath Sir. Blackadiier had risen early fr. 'in
prayer and ]irivate ciinimunion. He ^tl■! j d for.h
to meditate on tiie subject of the day. '1 here \vaj a
gloom and heaviness in the atmospliere thra >ccined
to correspond with the general melancholy. A fog,
or tliick haze, that covereti the face of tlie earth as
with a gray mantle, had retired from the vale of Nith
towards the mountains. .\s he paced his little
garden with a slow and jen-ive stej\ h:s contemjila-
! tior.s were suddenly intcrrui>ied by t!ie lulling of the

m6

JOHN BLACKADDER THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

morning bells, several of which, in the adjacent
parishes, were distinctly audible from the uncom-
jiion stillness of the air. These hallowed chimes,
once the welcome summons to the house of prayer,
now sounded like the knell of their expiring liberties,
reminding him how many of his brethren were, like
himself, preparing to bid their last adieu, amidst the
tears and blessings of their people. At this signal
of retirement he betook himself to the duties of the
closet, to hold nearer intercourse with Heaven, and
fortify himself for the solemn occasion.

"The people, at an early hour, had been strag-
gling on the height, but kept aloof from the church,
unwilling to put their minister to hazard by conven-
ing in multitudes, which had been discharged as a
breach of peace and good order. They collected by
degrees in small scattered groups about the church-
yard, occupied in dark conjectures, antl waiting the
minister's approach with extreme anxiety. Mr.
Blackadder made his appearance with his wonted
firmness and composure, and with the same placid
serenity of countenance for which he was remark-
able. The audience was not numerous, but every
feature appeared settled into a deep and earnest con-
cern. ^loit of them were dissolved in tears, and at
many parts of the discourse there were loud and
Lnvoluntar)* bursts of sorrow.

"Towards the middle of the sermon, an alann
was given that a party of soldiers from Dumfries
were on their march to seize him, and had crossed
the bridge. Upon this he closed hastily, pronounced
the blessing, and retired to his chamber. The
military surrounded the churchyard, and, as the
people departed, they took down the names of all
those who bclongeti to Dumfries, or any of the other
parishes, as the law had affixed a penalty of twenty
shillings Scots on every [X'rson absent from his own
church. They offered violence to none, and went
away without entering the manse, being assured that
no strangers were there. When they were gone, the
minister assembled the remains of the congregation
in his own house, and finished the sermon, ' stand-
ing on the stairhead, both the upper and lower flat
being crowded to the full.'

"The people seemed very loath to depart, linger-
ing in suspense alwut the door, expressing their
concern for his safety, and their willingness to shed
their blood in his defence. -Mr. Blackadder con-
jured them to have regard to the peace of tlie coun-
try, and give no handle to their adversaries by any
disturbance, '(jo,' said he, 'and fend [/rc^rviA'] for
yourselves: the hour is come when tlie shepherd is
smitten, and the flock shall be scattered. Many
are this day mourning for the desolations of Israel,
and weeping, like the ])roplict, between the porch
and the altar. Gfxl's heritage has become the jirey
of the spoiler; the mountain o{ the house of the Lord
as the high pl.ices of the forest. When the faithful
pastors are removed, liirelings shall intrude, whom
the great She}>hcrd never sent, who will devour the
flock, and tread <io'.vn the residue with their feet.
As for me, I have done my ijuty, and now there is
no time to evade. I recommend you to Him who
is able to keep you from faUing, and am readv,
through grace, to Ix; tlisp(j>ed of as the Lord
])Ieascs."''

.Vfter tiiis solemn and affecting scene Mr. I'.lack-
addcr went, with his wife and numerous family, to
reside at C.'aitloch, in the parish of (dencairn, a
wilfjer and more central part of the stewartry of
Kirkaidbright. Here he soon attracted the atten-
tion of the authorities by the crowds which he col-

' Crichtoii's Life of John Dlac/caJdcr, 121110, iSsj.

lected to hear his occasional preachings, and he was
therefore obliged to remove. For some years after
this period he appears to have wandered through
the country, preaching whenever he could find a
proper opportunity. In 1670, having performed
worship at a conventicle near Dunfermline, where
the people had armed themselves for self-defence,
he was summoned before the privy council, but con-
trived to elude their power. When the search was
a little slackened he renewed his practice of itiner-
ant preaching, which he not only conceived to be no
offence against human laws, but a duty solemnly
enjoined by the word of God. On one occasion he
preached at Kinkell, near St. Andrews: the people
flocked from that metropolitan city to hear him,
notwithstanding all the injunctions and ntrveillance
of Archbishop Sharpe. It is said that, on Sharpe
desiring the provost to send out the militia to dis-
perse the congregation, he was informed that it
was impossible — the militia had gone already as
worshippers. In 1674 Blackadder was outlawed,
and a reward of looo merks was offered for his
apprehension ; but he nevertheless continued to
preach occasionally to large assemblages in the
fields. What may appear surprising, he often re-
sided in the capital, without undergoing any annoy-
ance, and contrived, notwithstanding the migratory
nature of his life, to rear a large and well-instructed
family. It does not appear that he approved of the
insurrection of his friends which was suppressed at
BothwelL Though engaged in duty immediately
before this event, he fortunately was confined during
the whole period of its continuance by a rheumatism,
and therefore escaped all blame on that account.
In 1680 he made a voyage to Holland, and settled
his son at Leyden as a student of medicine, a cir-
cumstance which proves that the persecution to
which these clergj'men were subjected was not imi-
formly attended by pecuniaiy destitution. After
spending several months in Holland, he returned to
Scotland, and, in the succeeding year, was appre-
hended, and confined in the state-prison upon the
Bass. He remained here for four years, when at
length his health declined so much, on account of
the insalubrious nature of his prison, that his friends
made interest to procure his liberation upon the plea
that he must otherwise sink imder his malady. The
government at first mocked him with a proposal to
transfer him to Haddington or Dunbar jail, but at
length, on a more earnest and better-attested remon-
strance, offered to give him liberty to reside in
Edinburgh, under a bond for 5000 merks. Ere
this tender mercy could be made available, he died
in his islet prison, December, 1685, having nearly
completed his seventieth year. John Blackadder
lies interred in North Berwick churchyard, where
there is an epitaph to his memoiy, containing, among
others, tlie following characteristic lines: —

"Oracc formed him in the Christian hero's mould;
Meek in his own concerns — in's Master's bold;
Passions to reason chained, prudence did lead,
Xeal wanned his breast, and prudence cooled his head.
Five years on this lone rock, yet sweet abode,
He Encjch-like enjoyed and walked with God;
1 ill by long-living on his heavenly food,
His soul by love grew up, too great, too good,
lo l>e confined to jail, or flesh, or blood."

BLACKLOCK, Thomas, an ingenious blind poet,
was born, Xovemher lotli, 1721, at Annan; his
parents were natives of Cuml)erlan(l; his father a
bricki.iyer, and his mother the daughter of Mr.
Richard Kae, an extensive cattle-dealer. Before he
was six months old he lost his sight in the small-
pox; and was thus rendered incapable of learning a

THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

137

mechanical trade, while the poor circumstances to
which a series of misfortunes had reduced his father,
placed equally beyond his reach an education for any
of those professions where the exercise of the mental
faculties is principally required. His affectionate
parent, aware, however, that the happiness of his
son, shut out from the external world, must mainly
depend upon his intellectual resources, devoted part
^ of his leisure hours to such instruction as his poor
blind boy was susceptible of — he read to him, at
first the books adapted to the understanding of a
child, and afterwards those fitted for a maturer capa-
city, such as Milton, Spenser, Prior, Pope, and
Addison. His companions also, who pitied his
want of sight, and loved him for his gentle disposi-
tion, lent their assistance in this task of kindness;
and by their help he acquired some little knowledge
of Latin. Thomson and Allan Ramsay were his
favourite authors; and it was as early as his twelfth
year that he evinced still more decidedly his love of
the poetical art l)y the composition of an ode, ad-
dressed "To a little girl whom I had offended."

Thus early did Blacklock show, that in the course
of reading chosen for him, his father had not mis-
taken the bent of his inclination. But though, as
we have mentioned, some of his comrades delighted
to forward his favourite studies, and, by their as-
siduous attentions, to make him forget the depriva-
tion under which he laboured, there were others who
took pleasure in rendering him bitterly conscious of
his misfortune, and exulted in the success of such
practical jokes as it was easy to make him the sub-
ject of. It is but too obvious that his own experience
at this period, when exposed to the insults of un-
feeling boys, suggested tiie reflection introduced in
the article " Blind," afterwards written by him for
the EmyclopaUa Britaiinica: "Parents of middle or
of higher rank," he there remarks, "who are so
unfortunate as to have blind children, ought by all
possible means to keep tiiem out of vulgar company.
The herd of mankind have a wanton malignity whicli
eternally impels them to impose upon the blind, and
to enjoy the painful situations in which these im-
positions place them. This is a stricture u]ion the
humanity of our species, which notliing but the love
of truth and the dictates of benevolence could have
extorted from us. But we have known some," he
adds, evidently referring to himself, "who have
suffered so much from this diabolical mirth in their
own persons, that it is natural for us, by all the
means in our power, to prevent otliers from becom-
ing its victims."

Blacklock lived at home till his nineteenth year,
wlien a fresh misfortune overtook him in tlie loss of
his father, who was crushed to death by the fall of
a malt-kiln. To his keenly susceptible mind this
stroke must therefore have been ]:)eculiarly atHicting.
\\\<\ it w.xs attended not only witli regret on account
of rememliered benefits, but also by the anticipation
of future evils. .\ means of livelihood was indeed
suggested by Blacklock's love of music: as he played
well on the violin and flute, and even composed
pieces witii ta---te, it was proposed that he should
follow this art as a profession. "But the unhappy
situation in wliich he was tiien placed," says the
authority upon which this statement is given, ^ "made
him tlread consequences to wiuch he could never
reconcile his mind, Tlie \cx\ thought that his time
and talents should be prostrated to the forwarding
ofloose mirth and riot inspired him with an honest
indignation." Ahhougli gloomy anticipations like

1 An article in the Gentleman s ^la^-izinc, reprinted in ihc
Scots Magazine for 1754.

these sometimes intnided, Blacklock did not permit
them to overwhelm him, but calming his fears, and
resting with a pious confidence in the awards of a
protecting Providence, he continued to live with his
mother for a year after his father's death.

Some of his poems had by this time got abroad,
by which the fame of Blacklock's genius was ex-
tended; and at last it reached a gentleman, who to
curiosity added benevolence of heart. 'Ihis was Dr.
John Stevenson, a physician in Edinburgh, who,
while on a professional visit in Dumfries, saw some
of our author's pieces, and resolved to afford the
young man's talents the opportunity of expanding in
avocations and amid society more congenial to one
so much restricted to pleasures of an intellectual
kind. Accordingly Blacklock was, in 1 741, induced
to remove to the metropolis, where he attended a
grammar-school for some time, and afterwards en-
tered as a student in the college. Dr. Stevenson sup-
j^lying him with the means necessary for the prose-
cution of his studies.

These studies were internipted by the expedition
of the Highlanders in 1745; and during the dis-
tractions consequent upon that memorable campaign
Blacklock resided in Dumfries with Mr. M'Murdo,
his brother-in-law. On the re-establishment of
peace he returned to college, and studied six years
more. In this period he acquired a good knowledge
of all those branches of education where he was not
hindered by the want of sight; and became better
skilled than was common in the French language,
from being on habits of intimacy with the family of
Provost Alexander, whose wife was a Parisian. It
may well inspire wonder that latterly there was no
science with which Blacklock had not made himself
acquainted — no learned language which he did not
master — and no modem tongue of any acknow-
ledged use to a man of general literature, with which
he was not more or less familiar.

Amid the severer studies of classical learning,
philosophy, and theolog)', his attachment to poetry
was not forgotten. In 1746 a volume of his verses
in 8vo was published at Glasgow. A second edition
followed at Edinburgh in 1754; and two years after-
wards, a quarto edition, with an account of his life
by Mr. Spence, professor of poetry at Oxford, came
out by subscription in London. In the selection of
pieces for the press Blacklock was by his friends
considered to be over-fastidious; and l)y persisting
to exclude what he himself thought unworthy of a
place, he greatly limited the size of his books. By
tiie London edition a considerable sum was realized
for the authors advantage. Besides these editions
of his poems, another in 410 was published in I793j
with a life elegantly written by Henry Mackenzie.

Hume the historian was among the friends who
early interested themselves in the fortunes of Black-
lock, and was of considerable service in promoting
the subscrijition to the London edition of his poem.-;
but ail intercourse between them was subsequeiuly
broken otT.

The course of study followed by Blacklock at col-
lege was that usually gone tlirough for the inirpo-e
of entering upon the ministrv-; but it was not till
after the abandonment of a project (which he lieu;an
to entertain in 1757, and from which he was li-.s-
suaded by Mr. Hume, after making consiiicr.ii/ie
]')reparations towards it) for delivering lfi.tiiri.s on
oratory, that he tinally adii|itod the rcsoUiti'in oi
becoming a clergyman. Having n]^;>l;cd hmisell tor
some time exclusively to the necessary studies, he
was licensed as a preacher by tlie preshstery of
Dumfries in 1759. He soon aci]uired considerable
reputation as a pulnit orator, and took great delight

I3S

THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

in composing sermons, a considerable number of
which he left behind him: these it was at one time
the intention of his friends to publish; but for some
reason or other this has never been done.

The Rev. Mr. Jameson, Blacklock's intimate com-
panion, to whom allusion is more than once made in
his poems, has given the following account of his
habits about this time:

"His manner of life was so uniform, that the
history of it during one day, or one week, is the
history of it during the seven years that our inter-
course lasted. Reading, music, walking, conversing,
and disputing on various topics, in theology, ethics,
i!v:c., employed almost every hour of our time. It
was pleasant to hear him engaged in a dispute; for
no man could keep his temper better than he always
did on such occasions. I have known him fre-
quently very warmly engaged for hours togetlier, but
never could observe one angr)' word to fall from him.
Whatever his antagonist might say, he always kept
his temper, — 'semper paratus, et refellere sine j^er-
tinacia, et refelli sine iracundia.' He w.is, however,
extremely sensible to what he thought ill usage, and
equally so whether it regarded himself or his friends.
But his resentment was always confined to a few
satirical verses, which were generally burned soon
after. The late Mr. Spence (the editor of the 4to
edition of his poems) frequently urged him to write
a tragedy, and assured him that he possessed interest
enough with Mr. Garrick to get it acted. Various
subjects were jiroposed to him, several of which he
approved, yet he never could be prevailed on to
begin anything of that kind. It may seem remark-
able, but, as far as I know, it was invariably the case,
that he never could think or write on any subject
j)roposed to him by another. I have frequently
atlmired with what readiness and rapidity he could
make verses. I have known him dictate from thirty
to forty verses, and by no means bad ones, as fast as
I could write them; but the moment he was at a loss
for a rhyme or a verse to his liking, he stopped al-
together, and could very seldom be induced to finish
what he had Ix'gun with so much ardour."

".Ml those who ever acted as his amanuenses,"
says Mackenzie, "agree in tiiis rapidity and ardour
of conqwsition which Mr. Jameson ascribes to him.
He never could dictate till he stood up; and as his
blindness made v/alking about without assistance
inconvenient or dangerous to him, he fell insensibly
into a vibratory sort of motion of his body, which
increased as he warmed with his sut)ject, and was
pleased with the conceptions of his mind. This
motion at Ixst lx.'came habitual to him; and though
he could sometimes restrain it when on ceremony,
or in any public ai)pearance, such as preaching, he
felt a certain uneasiness from the effort, and always
returned to it when he could indulge it without im-
projiriety. Thi^ is the appearance which he de-
scribes in the ludicrous picture he has drawn of
himself:

'As some vci-icl tossed by wind and tide

Itoiinds o'er tiic waves, .-md rc^cks from side to side,
In just vibration thus I always move.'"

Much of the singularity in the gestures of poor
lilacklock must have proceeded from his inal)ilitv
t.< observe the carriage of others, and to regulate his
own in conformity with theirs. The author of
/)oti^!as, in one of his letters, has given a curious
picture of his singular ap[)earance when under strong
excitement: "I went to a companif)n's," says Home,
"and sent for the blind poet, who is reallv a stran<'e
creature to look at — a small weakly imder tiling^
a chilly, bloodless animal, that shivers at every
brJc^e. But if nature has cheated him in one re-

spect, by assigning to his share forceless sinews, and
a ragged form, she has made him ample compensa-
tion on the other, by giving him a mind endued with
the most exquisite feelings — the most ardent, kindled-
up affections; a soul, to use a poet's phrase, that's
tremblingly alive all over: in short, he is the most
flagrant enthusiast I ever saw; when he repeats
verses, he is not able to keep his seat, but springs to
his feet, and shows his rage by the most animated
motions. He has promised to let me have copies of
his best poems, which I will transmit to you when-
ever he is as good as his word."

In 1762 the Earl of Selkirk procured from the
crown a presentation to the parish of Kirkcudbright
in favour of Mr. Blacklock; who, having thus the
prospect of a competent income, married Mrs. Sarah
Johnston, daughter of Mr. Joseph Johnston, surgeon
in Dumfries. But though not disappointed in the
happiness he expected to derive from this union,
the gleam of fortune which seems to have induced
him to form it, forsook him immediately after the
step was taken. He was ordained a few days after
his marriage; but the people of the parish refused,
on account of his blindness, to acknowledge him as
tlieir pastor, and a lawsuit was commenced, which,
after two years, was compromised by Blacklock re-
tiring upon a moderate annuity. It is probably to
the period when he experienced so determined an
opposition from the people of Kirkcudbright, that
we are to refer the composition of his Paraclesis;
for he informs us in the preface that his motive for
writing that work was "to alleviate the pressure of
repeated disappointments, to soothe his anguish for
the loss of departed friends, to elude the rage of im-
placable and unprovoked enemies, — in a word, to
support his own mind, which, for a number of years,
besides its literary difficulties and its natural dis-
advantages, had maintained an incessant conflict
with fortune." At no other period but that above
referred to, are we aware that Blacklock was the
object of anything like an angry feeling.

In 1764, after the connection between him and
the parish of Kirkcudbright was dissolved, Black -
lock removed to Edinburgh, where he received
boarders into his house,' superintending the studies
of those who chose to have such assistance. "In
this occupation," says Mackenzie, "no teacher was
perhaps ever more agreeable to his pupils, nor
master of a family to its inmates, than Dr. Blacklock.
The gentleness of his manners, the benignity of his
disposition, and that warm interest in the happiness
of others which led him so constantly to promote it,
were qualities that could not fail to procure him the
love and regard of the young people committed to
his charge; while the society which esteem and re-
spect for his character and his genius often assemljled
at his house, afforded them an advantage rarely to
be found in establishments of a similar kind. The
writer of this account has frequently been a witness
of the family scene at Dr. Blacklock's; has seen the
good man amidst the circle of his young friends,
eager to do him all the little offices of kindness which
he seemed so much to merit and to feel. In this
society he a]ipcarcd entirely to forget the privation
of sight, and the melancholy which, at other times,
it might produce. He entered with the cheerful
playfulness of a young man into all the sjirightly
narrative, the sportful fancy, the humorous jest, that
rose around him."

In these hours of social relaxation Blacklock found

' He occupied the two upper flats of a house at the west
end of West Nicolson .Street, looking towards St. Cuthbcrt's
Chapel of Ease burying-ground.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK.

»39

one of the greatest pleasures of his existence. Music
also afforded him a lively gratification; for he sung
with taste, and performed tolerably well on several
instruments, particularly on the flute. He had
learned to play on the flageolet in consequence of a
dream in which he supposed himself to listen to the
most enchanting melody, produced by a shepherd
on a hillside from that instrument; and he always
carried one in his pocket, on which he was by no
niL-ans averse from being asked to perform — "a
natural feeling," says Mackenzie, "for a blind man,
who thus adds a scene to the drama of his society."
We have already alluded to his skill in composition,
which was begun early at least, if it was not very
assiduously cultivated. There is a specimen of his
abilities in this way in the Edinburgh Magazine and
Review for 1774, under the title of "Absence, a
Pastoral, set to music by Dr. Blacklock."

Finding that his increasing years and infirmities
required repose, Dr. Blacklock discontinued the
keeping of boarders in 1787. But though his bodily
vigour began to fail, he experienced no diminution
of that benevolence which had ever characterized
him. His own genius having been greatly indebted
to patronage, he was ever ready to acknowledge it
in others, and especially to cultivate and bring it
into reputation where he found it struggling with
obscurity. Nor were his efforts for this puqiose
confined to occasional acts of liberality — they were
laborious and long-continued. He had taken a boy
from a village near Carlisle to lead him, and per-
ceiving in the youth a willingness to learn, taught
him Latin, Greek, and French, and having thus
fitted him for a station superior to that in which he
was born, procured for him the situation of secretary
to Lord Milton, who was chief active manager of
state affairs in Scotland for many years. This young
man was Richard Hewitt, known to the admirer of
Scottish song as the author of Roslin Castle. Hewitt
testified his gratitude to his instructor by a copy of
complimentary verses, in every line of which may be
traced the chief excellence of compositions of that
description — sincerity; but he did not long enjoy his
change of fortune, having died in 1764 from the
fatigue of the office to which he had been elevated.

But we find a still more eminent example of
Blacklock's solicitude to promote the interests of the
sons of genius, in his being the first man among the
literary circles of Edinburgh who appreciated tlie
jjoetry of Burns (perliaps, indeed, because he had the
earliest opportunity of becoming acquainted with it),
and kindled in the author tlie ambition of a prize
beyond that of provincial fame. The Rev. Mr.
Lawrie of Newmills had transmitted to Blacklock a
copy of the Kilmarnock edition of Burns' poems. It
is not easy for a modern reader to understand witli
what wonder and delight Blacklock must have heard
them read. With calmness, yet with energv', the
enthusiastic Blacklock indicated his own admiration
and the certainty of the poet's future fame: — "Many
instances," he wrote to Mr. Lawrie, "have I seen
of nature's force and beneficence exerted under
numerous and formidable disadvantages; but none
equal to that witli wliichyou have l>een kind enough
to present me. Tliere is a pathos and dclicacv in
his serious poems, a vein of wit and humour in those
of a more festive turn, which cannot he too much
admired nor t<n) warmly ajiproved. I think I shall
never open the book without feeling my astonish-
ment renewed and increased. — It were much to be
wished, for the sake of the young man, that a second
edition, more numerous tiian the former, could im-
mediately be printed; as it appears certain that its
intrinsic merit, and the exertion of the author's

friends, might give it a more universal circulation
than anything of the kind which has l)een published
within my memor)." — "I had taken the last farewell
of my few friends," says Bums; ','my chest was on
the road to Greenock; I had composed the last song
I should ever measure in Scotland — 'The Gloomy
night is gathering fast' — when a letter from Dr.
Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my
schemes, by opening new jirospects to my poetic
ambition. The doctor belonged to a set of critics
for whose applause I had not dared to hope. His
opinion that I would meet with encouragement in
Edinburgh for a second edition, fired me so much,
that away I posted for that city, without a smglc
acquaintance, or a single letter of introduction." —
"Blacklock received him," says Dr. Currie, "with
all the ardour of affectionate admiration; he eagerly
introduced him to the respectable circle of liis
friends; he consulted his interest; he emblazoned his
fame; he lavished upon him all the kindness of a
generous and feeling heart, into which nothing
selfish or envious ever found admittance." — "In
Dr. Blacklock," Burns himself writes to Mr. Lawrie,
"in Dr. Blacklock, whom I see very often, I have
found what I would have expected in our friend, — a
clear head and an excellent heart." It is not our
business, in this place, to trace Bums' career far-
ther. Dr. Blacklock's duty towards him was per-
formed when he had bestowed upon him every
mark of private regard, and consigned him to the
care of more influential patrons.

Besides the miscellaneous poems by which Dr.
Blacklock is best known as an author, he ])ublished
several other works. In 1756 he gave to the world
an Essay taivards Universal Etymology; in 1760, The
Right Iinprtn'cment of Time, a Sermon ; in the en-
suing year another sermon, entitled Faith, Hope, and
Charity compai-cd. In 1 767 appeared his Paraclesis :
or. Consolations deduced from Natural and Repealed
Religion, in two dissertations, the first supposed to
be Cicero's, translated by Dr. Blacklock, — the other
written by himself. This work, to use the author's
own touching words, "was begun and pursued by
its author to divert wakeful and melancholy hours,
which the recollection of past misfortunes, and the
sense of present inconveniences, would otherwise
have severely embittered." He endeavours, but
without success, to prove the authenticity of the dis-
sertation ascribed to Cicero, which he has translated
with fidelity and elegance: the object of the original
discourse is to prove the superiority of the consola-
tions afforded by revealed religion. In 1768 he
printed T'co Discourses on the Spirit and Evidences
of Christianity, translated from the French of Mr.
James Armand. To this work he jirefixed a long
dedication to the moderator of the General Assembly.
In 1773 appeared his Panegyric on Great Bntani,
which shows him to have possessed considerable
talents for satire had he chosen to pursue that species
of writing. His last production was in 1774, The
Graham, an J/croic Ballad, in Four Cantos; intcndttl
to promote a good understanding between tlie na-
tives of England and Scotland. He contributed to
the Encyclopedia Britannica, in 17S3, the article
"Blind" — a little treatise of peculiar interest. _ He
is also said to have written the " Essay cm roctry,""ni-.(l
others on various subjects in the same wmk. I 'r.
Blacklock lefi behind him in nianii-cript sunie
volumes of sermons, and a trea!i>e on mi.>ral>.

In his latter years our author was occasionally
afflicted with deafness— in his c.i.-e a double cala-
mity, as at the periods when it vi-;tO(l him, he vns
\\\ a manner shut out from all communication wi'h
tlie external world. In tliis fciiorn cunil.'.ior. — old,

140

ALEXANDER AND ELIZABETH BLACKWELL.

blind, and sometimes deaf — it was more difficult for
him than formerly to bear up against the depression
of spints to which he had always been more or less
subject ; but his gentleness of temper never forsook
him, and though he could not altogether avoid com-
plaint, he was not loath to discover and state some
alleviating circumstance along with it. He died
from fever after a week's illness, on the 7th July,
1 79 1, and was buried in the ground of St. Cuthbert's
chapel of ease, where there is a tombstone erected,
with the following inscription by Dr. Beattie: —
" Viro Reverendo Thomct Blacklock, D.D. Probo,
Pio. Benevolo, Omnigena Doctrina Erudito, Poetae
sublimi; ah incunabulis usque oculis capto, at hilari,
faceto, amicisque semper carrissimo; qui natus xxi
Novemb. mdccxx. obiit vii Julii, .mdccxci: Hoc
Monumentum Vidua ejus Sara Johnston, marens P."

It has been said of Dr. Blacklock, that "he never
lost a friend, nor made a foe;" and perhaps no
literary man ever passed through life so perfectly
free from envious feeling, and so entirely respected
and beloved. His conversation was lively and en-
tertaining; his wit was acknowledged, but it had no
tinge of malice; his temper was gentle, his feelings
warm — intense; his whole character was one to
which mav be applied the epithet amiable, without
any qualification.

To Dr. Blacklock as a poet, the rank of first-rate
excellence has not been assigned, and is not claimed;
but his works possess solid merits, which will always
repay a perusal. The thoughts are, for the most
part, vigorous, seldom less tiian just; and they are
conveyed with a certain intensity of expression,
which shows them, even when not uncommon in
themselves, to be the offspring of a superior genius.

BLACKWELL, .\i.EX.\NnER and Elizabeth,
husband and wife. The former was brother to the
more celebrated Dr. Thomas Blackwell, the subject
of the following article. His father, Thomas Black-
well, was at first minister of Paisley, whence he was
removed, in 1700, to be one of the ministers of
Aberdeen. He was there appointed to be professor
of divinity in the Marischal College, and afterwards,
in 171 7, raised by the crown to tiie rank of principal,
which he held till his death in 1728. .-Mexander,
his son, exhibited at an early period such symptoms
of genius as induced his father to employ great
personal care in his education. At fifteen he was
a perfect (jreek and Latin scholar, and he after-
wards distinguished himself very highly at college.
It would appear that his union to Kli7.al)eth IMack-
weil, who was the daughter of a merchant at
Aber<leen, took place under clandestine circum-
stances, and was connected with a step which gave
a direction to all his future fortunes. Tliis was a
secret cloi>ement to London, where he arrived before
any of his friends knew where he was. lilack-
well a])pears to have been a man of mercurial and
adventurous temperament; possessing, with these
qualities, exactly that degree of ability and accom-
]>lishment which has enabled so many of his country-
men to prosecute a successful career in London.
His first employment was that of corrector of the
press to .Mr. Wilkins, an eminent printer. After-
wards, he was enabled to set up as a printer on his
own account, and for this purpose he occu])ied a
large house in the Strand. But he did not long
jnirsue this business bef')re an action was brought
against him for not having served a regular ap-
prenticeship to it. The unsuccessful defence of this
action ruined him, and one of his creditors threw
him into jail, where he remained two years.

Hitherto we hear nothing of his wife- and,

perhaps, but for the misfortunes of the husband, the
virtues of this noble woman might have only de-
corated a private station. Like the flower, however,
which blooms most by night, the better quality of
woman's nature is chiefly developed under the cloud
of sorrow; and it is only when the powei-s of man
have been prostrated, or found of no avail, that her
weakness shines forth in its real character — latent
strength. Elizabeth Blackwell happened to possess
a taste for drawing flowers; — a taste then so very
rare, that there was hardly any engraved work in
existence containing representations of this interest-
ing department of creation. The acknowledged
want of a good herbal occurred to her as affording
the means of exerting this gift in a useful way; and
some of her first attempts being submitted to Sir Hans
Sloane, Dr. Mead, and other eminent physicians,
she soon received sufficient encouragement to pro-
ceed in her work. A document, attesting their
satisfaction with Mrs. Blackwell's specimens, and
recommending her contemplated work to public
attention, was signed by six eminent physicians, in-
cluding these gentlemen, and bears date "October
I, 1735." By the advice of Mr. Rand, an eminent
apothecary, demonstrator to the Company of Apothe-
caries in the botanic garden at Chelsea, Mrs.
Blackwell hired a house near that establishment,
where she had an opportunity of receiving the
necessary flowers and plants in a fresh state, as she
wanted them ; she also received great encouragement
and assistance from Mr. Philip Miller, so well known
for his publications connected with horticulture.

Mrs. Blackwell not only made drawings of the
flowers, but she also engraved them on copper,
and coloured the prints with her own hands. Her
husband lent all the aid in his power, by attaching
the Latin names of the plants, together with a short
account of their principal characters and uses, chiefly
taken, by permission, from Miller's Botanicum
Officinale. The first volume of the work appeared
in 1737, in large folio, containing two hundred and
fifty-two plates, each of which is occupied by one
distinct flower or plant, and was dedicated to Dr.
Mead, with the following address: "As the world
is indebted to the encouragers of every public good,
if the following undertaking should prove such, it is
but justice to declare who have been the chief pro-
moters of it; and as you were the first who advised
its publication, and honoured it with your name,
give me leave to tell the readers how much they are
in your debt for this work, and to acknowledge the
honour of your friendship." The second volume,
completing the number of plates to five hundred,
appeared in 1739, and was inscribed to Mr. Rand,
in an address l)reathing as fei"vent a spirit of grati-
tude, and acknowledging that, in her own ignorance
of botany, she was entirely obliged to him for the
completeness of the work, so far as it went. The
drawings are in general faithful; and if there is
wanting that accuracy which modem improvements
have rendered necessary in delineating the more
minute parts, yet, upon the whole, the figures are
sufficiently distinctive of the subjects. The style of
the engravings is what would now be called hard,
liut it is fully on a level with the prevailing taste f)f
the age; and, as a jjiccc of labour, executed, it would
ajipear, in the sjiace of four years, by the hands of
one 'uvntaii, the whole work is entitled alike to our
wonder and admiration. While Mrs. Blackwell was
proceeding in her task, she attracted the attention
of many ])ersons of eminent rank and character, and
also a great number of scientific persons, who visited
her at Chelsea, and afforded her many marks of
kindness. On the completion of the first volume,

ALEXANDER AND ELIZABETH BLACKWELL THOMAS BLACKWELL. 141

she was permitted in person to present a copy to the
College of Physicians, who acknowledged her extra-
ordinary merit by a handsome present, as well as
a testimonial, under the hands of the president and
censors of the institution, characterizing her work as
"most useful," and recommending it to the public.
It seems to have been at this period of her labours,
that, after having all along supported her family by
her own exertions, she was enabled to redeem her
husband from confinement.

IMackwell, after his release, lived for some time
at Chelsea with his wife, and, on her account, was
much respected. He attempted to perfect himself
in the study of physic, and also formed schemes for
the improvement of waste lands. This latter subject
he studied to such a degree, as to be enabled to
write an agricultural treatise, which attracted some
attention. Among his other occupations for some
time, was a prosecution which he entered into
against some printsellers, for pirating his wife's
botanical plates. By his success in this affair, he
revenged in some measure the persecution to which
he had been subjected for his inadvertent breach
of another exclusive law. His agricultural know-
ledge gradually became known, and he was often
consulted on difficult points connected with that
science, and received handsome fees for his trouble.
At one time he was employed by the Duke of
Chandos in superintending some agricultural opera-
tions at Cannons. His work on agriculture, which
was published at this time, recommended him to
the attention of a still higher patronage — the Swedish
ambassador, who, having transmitted a copy to his
court, was directed to engage the author, if possible,
to go to Stockholm. Blackwell accepted this en-
gagement, and sailed for the Swedish capital, leaving
his wife and one child in England, with a promise
that he would soon send for them. He was received
in the kindest manner at the court of Stockholm,
was lodged in the house of the prime minister, and
was allowed a pension. The King of Sweden
happening soon after to be taken dangerously ill,
Blackwell was permitted to prescribe for him, and
had the good fortune to effect a cure. He was
consequently appointed one of the king's physicians,
and styled doctor, though it does not appear that he
ever took a degree in medicine. While enjoying all
this good fortune, he was not forgetful of his wife,
but sent her several sums of money, and she was on
the point of sailing to join him at Stockholm, when
all his prospects, and life itself, were overwhelmed
at one blow. It is probable, from the character of
his brother Thomas, that he was a fervent admirer of
the principles of civil liberty. Nothing, moreover,
can be more probable than that a man, accustomed
to all the freedom of speech which is so hannlessly
permitted in Britain, might not very readily accom-
moilate himself to that prudence of the tongue which
is tlemandcd from the subjects of an arbitrary
monarchy. It is at least certain that he was appre-
hended on suspicion of being connected with a plot
which had been formed by one Count Tessin, for
overturning the constitution of the kingdom, and
altering the line of succession. Being put to the
torture, he is alleged to have confessed a concern in
this con>piracy. Every reader, however, will ac-
knowledge, that confessions under the torture fonn
historical documents of a very questionable nature.
Being tried for his supjiosed offence before a roval
commission, he was sentenced to l)e broken alive on
the wheel, and put to the ileath of a traitor. In the
course of his trial some imputations were thrown
upon his Britannic M.ijesty, forwhicii, in conjunction
with other circumstances, the British ambassador

was recalled from Stockholm. The unfortunate
Blackwell was executed, July 29th, 1747, but not, it
would appear, with the tortures assigned by his
sentence. On the scaffold he proteste*! to the
people his entire innocence of the crimes laid to his
charge, and, as the best proof of what he stated,
pointed out his utter want of all motive for engaging
in an attempt against the government. He prayed
with great devotion ; but happening to lay his
head wrong upon the block, he remarked good-
humouredly, that, as this was his first experiment,
no wonder he required a little instruction.' The
date of Mrs. Blackwell's death is not ascertained.
Her work was afterwards republished on the Con-
tinent.

BLACKWELL, Thomas, the restorer of Greek
literature in the north of Scotland, and a learned
writer of the eighteenth century-, was brother to the
subject of the preceding article. He was Vx>m at
Aberdeen, August 4th, 1701, and after receiving the
rudiments of his education at the grammar-school of
his native city,* entered his academical course at the
Marischal College, where he took the degree of A.M.
in 1718. A separate professorship of Greek had not
existed in this seminary previous to 1700, and the
best of the ancient languages was at that period very
little cultivated in Scotland. Blackwell, having
turned his attention to Greek, was honoured, in
1723, when only twenty-two years of age, with a
crown appointment to this chair. He entered upon
the discharge of the duties of his office with the
utmost ardour. It perfectly suited his inclination
and habits. He was an enthusiastic admirer of the
language and literature of Greece, and the whole
bent of his studies was exclusively devoted to the
cultivation of polite learning. He had the merit of
rearing some very eminent Greek scholars, among
whom may be mentioned Principal George Camp-
bell, Dr. Alexander Gerard, and Dr. James Beattie.
The last has borne ample testimony to the merit of
his master in his Essay on tlic Utility of Classical
Lcartiitig, where he styles Principal Blackwell "a
very learned author."

Dr. Blackwell first appeared before the public as
an author in 1737. His Inquiry into the Life and
Writings of Homer was published at London during
the course of that year, but without his name. It

1 Soon after the death of Blackwell appeared A Genuine
Copy of a Letter from a Merchant in Stockholm, to his Cor>es-
pondcnt in London, "containing an impartial account of l)r.
Alexander Blackwell, his plot, trial, character, and behavioi:r,
both under examination and at the place of execution, together
with a copy of a paper delivered to a friend upon the scaffold,
in which he denied the crime imputed to him." This publica-
tion does not appear to have been genuine, and as it contains
some particulars of the life of Blackwell totally at variance
with the above more authentic and probalile account, which is
chiefly derived from a letter signed G. J. and dated from Haih,
in the Genilcinan's Magazine for 1747. we have entirely re-
jected it. This spurious work is, nevertheless, chiefly used \y
Mr. Nichols, in an account of Blackwell given in the Litera'-y
Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century.

- The hi>tor\- of the origin of what arc technically, in .'^- :-
land, denominated grammar-schools, is inv.>lved i:; c !i>;':cr-
able obscurity. The probability is. that they were m ni ^t
c.a,se5 founded by generous individtials, who wished well i" tl-.e
cause of literature, and who, to secure that pr"pcr care sh -...vi
l:« taken in the management of the funds by which the c*t.y~
lishment was suppurted, vested the muney arprupn.itcd t. r
that purpose in some public body or <:< rpi'r.uii-n. It does n t
admit of a doubt, that this took p'ace in several of the [inno:-
pal Sc'ittish burghs: but it is very ^incular, that th.se sch^ is
were limited to the Latin lanpu.ige ,i!"ne. Th'.s pr'ccei'.ed
from the dread that there w.is a t!e-ign in the f nnu'.erv • f such
seminaries to supercede univer-i::es, where I atm. tircck. and
Hebrew were taught. The ,:ranim.ir-'.ch' .1 '.f .A!>erdccn was
fninded by Or. Patrick I'un. prin. ip.i! .f >I.in~.:h.d Co':lc,:e.
who w.xs a native of the city, ar.J h.^i rv~i ici at I'adua, where
he took his dezree of JJuct^r of Medicu.e.

142

THOMAS BLACKWELL

ADAM BLACKWOOD.

has been positively affirmed, with what tnith it is
impossible to say, that its being anonymous was in
imitation of Lord Shaftesbur)*, of whom he was
a warm admirer, and whose works were published
after that manner. The style, also, is vitiated by
a perpetual effort at the Shaftesburian vein, which
is, perhaps, the principal fault in the writings of
Hlackwell. A second edition of the work appeared
in 1746, and shortly after, Proofs of the Inquiry into
Jlomers Life and Writim^s. These proofs chielly
consisted of a translation of the (ireek, Latin,
Spanish, Italian, and French notes subjoined to the
original work. The Inquiry contains a great deal
of research, as well as a display of miscellaneous
learning. Perhaps its principal defect consists in the
author's discovering an over-anxiety in regard to
both; at lea^t, he has not been sufficiently careful
to guanl against the imputation of sometimes going
out of his way to show what labour he had bestowed
in examining every source of int'onnation, both
ancient and modern, foreign and domestic. Though
the life of Homer has been written by Herodotus,
by Plutarch, and by Suitlas, among the Greeks, and
by an innumerable host of writers scattered through
other nations, yet there is hardly one point in his
histor/ about which they are agreed, excepting the
prodigious merit of his poems, and the sophist Zoilus
would not even grant this. How great uncertainty
prevaile<l respecting the time and ])lace of his birth,
abundantly appears from seven Grecian cities con-
tending in regard to the latter point. When the
field was so extensive, and so great diversity of
opinion prevailed, it cannot fad to be perceived how
arduous an enterprise Dr. lilackwell had undertaken.
His criticisms on the poems themselves are always
encomi.istic, often ingenious, and delivered in lan-
guage that can give no reasonable ground of offence.
The work will be read with both pleasure and
profit by all who are prepared to enter upon such
inquiries. It is generally esteemed the best of his
performances.

He published, in 1748, iMtcrs conccrnin::^ Mytho-
logy, without his name also. In the course of the
same year he was advanced to be principal of his
college, succeeding Dr. John Osborne, who died
ujKjn the 19th of ,\ugiist. Dr. Hlackwell, however,
was not admitted to the exercise of his new office
till the subsequent 9th of November. The first
object of his attention rc-.;>ected the discipline of the
college. Great irregularities had crept into the
institution, not in his predecessor's time only, but
probably almost from its foundation. Through the
poverty of the generality of the students in those
diys, their attenflance, short as the session was
allowed to be, was very jjartial; to correct this he
considered to be indispensably necessary. Accord-
ingly, ab )ut the middle of October, 1749, previous
to the commencement of the scs^on, an advertise-
ment in the pul)lic papers infonncd the students
that a more regular attendance was to be required.
This, it would appear, did not produce th<; intended
cITect. Accordingly, to shmw tliat the principal and
professors were j)erfectly in earnest wht-n tlicy gave
thi-i ivahlic notice, three of the bur-ars, who h.i.l not
com;>lied with the terms of the advertisement, were,
on t!ie lOth of November, ex]>elled. Thi^ deei -ion
gave general satisfaction, and indeed deserved lii-li
Commendation.

But, that the profe^-ors th-niselves mi-Jit be more
alert and attentive to their duty, he revived a jirac-
tice which, it is likely, had at an early |i( riod l)een
co'nmon, for every jirofessor in the university to
d-jliver a discour-e in t!ie j/iiblic scliool ujini soii;<.
saivect connected v.-i:h lii-- \ r'jfe-sio;). He himself

set the example, and delivered his first oration upon
the 7th of Februar)', 1749. When Blackwell was
promoted to the principality, instead of sinking into
indolence, he seems to have considered it rather as
affording an excitement to exertion. In Febraary,
1750, he opened a class for the instruction of tlie
students in ancient histor)', geography, and chrono-
logy. Prelections on these branches of education
he thought necessary to render more perfect the
course at Marischal College. He, therefore, himself
undertook the task. The design of his opening this
class evidently was to pave the way for the introduc-
tion of a new plan of teaching into Alarischal College,
which, accordingly, he soon after accomplished. At
the commencement of the session 1752, public notice
was given that "the principal, professors, and masters,
having long had under their consideration the present
method of academical education, the plan of which,
originally introduced by the scholastic divines in
the darkest times, is more calculated for disputes
and wrangling than to fit men for the duties of life,
therefore have resolved to introduce a new order in
teaching the sciences." The order which was then
adopted, is what still continues in force in that
university. Three years afterwards, when the new
plan had been put to the trial for as many sessions,
the faculty of the college ordered an account of the
plan of education which was followed to be printed.
This formed a pamphlet of thirty-five pages. Tt
concludes thus: — "They have already begim to ex-
perience the public approbation by the increase of
the number of their students." So that he had the
agreeable pleasure of witnessing the success of the
plan he had proposed.

In 1752 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws,
and in the subsequent year was published, in quarto,
the first volume o{ Memoirs of the Court of Augiistus.
A second volume appeared in 1755, and a third,
which was posthumous, and left unfinished by the
author, was prepared for the press by John Mills,
Esq., and published in 1764. In this work the
author has endeavoured to give an account of Roman
literature as it appeared in the Augustan age, and
he has executed the task with no small share of
success. Objections might easily be started to some
of his theories and opinions, but every classical
scholar who is fond of literaiy history will peruse the
work with pleasure as well as profit.

Dr. Blackwell died at Edinburgh, upon the 6th
of March, 1757- Hg '^^'''^s certainly a very extraordi-
nary person, and like every man of acknowledged
talents, formed a ver)- general subject of conversation.
He was formal, and even pomiious. His dress was
after the fashion of the reign of Queen Anne. The
jiortly mien and dignified manner in which he stepped
through the public school, impressed all the students
with a deep sense of his i)rofessional importance.
He w.as, nevertheless, kind and indulgent to them,
and of a benevolent disposition. He left a widow,
but no children. Mrs. Blackwell, in 1793, founded
a chemical professorship in Marischal College, and
ai)]K)jnted a premium of ten i:iounds sterling to be
annually bestowed on the person who should coni-
]>ose, and deliver, in the English language, the best
discourse upon a given literary subject.

BLACKWOOD, Adam, a learned writer of tl:e
sixteenth century, was born at Dunfermline, in J539.
lie was descended from an ancient and respcct.Tb'e
rainily; his father, William I.lackwood, was slain
in battle ere he was ten years of age (probably
at rinkie-field); his mother, Helen Kcid, who
was niece to Rot)ert Rcid, Bishop of Orkney,
dii; I soon af.er, of grief for the loss of her bus-

ADAM BLACKWOOD

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD.

143

band. By his uncle, the bishop, he was sent to
the university of Paris, but was soon obliged to
return, on account of the death of his distinguished
relation. .Scotland, at this time, was undergoing
the agonies of the reformation, under the regency of
Mary of Lorrain. Blackwood found it no proper
sphere for his education; and therefore soon returned
to Paris, where, by the liberality of his youthful
sovereign, Queen Mary, then residing at the court
of France, he was enabled to complete his studies,
and to go through a course of civil law at the uni-
versity of Toulouse. Having now acquired some
reputation for learning and talent, he was patronized
by James Beaton, the expatriated Archbishop of
Glasgow, who reconimended him very warmly to
Queen Mary and her husband, the Dauphin, by
whose influence he was chosen a member of the
parliament of Poitiers, and afterwards appointed to
be professor of civil law at that court.

Poitiers was henceforth the constant residence of
Blackwood, and the scene of all his literary exertions.
His first work was one entitled, De Vinculo Keli-
gionis et Imperii, Lihri Duo, Paris, 1 575, to which
a tUird book was adtled in 1612. The object of this
work is to show the necessity under which rulers are
laid, of preserving the true— /'.c*. the Catholic — reli-
gion from the innovations of heretics, as all rebellions
arise from that source. Blackwood, by the native
tone of his mind, the nature of his education, and
the whole train of his associations, was a faithful
ailherent of the Church of Rome, and of the prin-
ciples of monarchical government. His next work
developed these professions in a more perfect manner.
It was entitled. Apologia pro Rcgibus, and professed
to be an answer to George Buchanan's work, De
Jure Regni apud Scotos. Both of these works argue
upon extreme and unfair principles. Buchanan
seeks to apply to the simjile feudal government of
Scotland — a monarchical aristocracy — all the maxims
of the Roman repulilicans. Blackwood, on the
other hand, is a slavishly devout advocate for the
divine right of kings. In replying to one of
Buchanan's positions, the apologist of kings says,
very gravely, that if one of the scholars at St.
Leonard's College were to argue in that manner, he
would richly deserve to be whipped. Both of the
above works are in Latin. He next published, in
French, an account of the death of his benefactress,
Queen Mary, under the title, Marlyre de Maria
Stuart, Keyiie if Escosse, Antwerp, 8vo, 15SS. This
work is conceived in a tone of bitter resentment
regarding the event to which it refers. He addresses
himself, in a vehement strain of passion, to all the
jirinces of Europe to avenge her death; declaring
that they are unworthy of royalty if they are not
roused on so interesting and pressing an occasion.
At the end of the volume is a collection of poems
in Latin, French, and Italian, upon Mary and
Flizabeth; in which the former princess is jiraised
for every excellence, while her murderess is character-
ized by every epithet expressive of indignation and
hate. .\n anagram was always a good weapon in
th'jse days of conceit and fixlse taste; and one which
we find in this collection was no doubt looked upon
as a most poignant slab at the (^uccn of England: —

Ki.i7\nr.T\ TrrnKrjA
Vade:, Ji:zEi!KL Tr.Ti;A.

In 159S Blackwood pul-.li^hcd a manual of iiev,->-
tions under the title, Saite.'arum rreeatiouum Free-
vua, which he dedicated to iiis venerable patron,
the Archbishop of Glasgnw. The cause of his
writing this hook wa-;. tliat by reading much at night
he had so wcakenetl his eves, as to be ur.ablc to

distinguish his own children at the distance of two
or three yards: in the impossibility of employing
himself in study, he was prevailed upon, by the
advice of the archbishop, to betake himself to a
custom of nocturnal prayer, and hence the composi-
tion of this book. In 1606 Blackwoo<i published
a Latin poem on the inauguration of James VI. as
King of Great Britain. In 1609 appeared at Poitiers
a complete collection of his Latin poems. He died
in 1623, in the seventy-fourth year of his age, leaving
four sons (of whom one attained to his own senatorial
dignity in the parliament of Poitiers), and seven
daughters. He was most splendidly interred in St.
Porcharius' church at Poitiers, where a marble
monument was reared to his memor}-, charged with
a long panegjrical epitaph. In 1644 a]>peared his
Opera Omma, in one vol. 4to., edited by the learned
Naudeus, who prefixes an elaborate eulogium upon
the author. Blackwood was not only a man of con-
summate learning and great genius, l,<ut is allowed to
have also fulfilled, in life, all the duties of a good man.

BLACKWOOD, Henry, brother to the subject
of the preceding article, and his senior by some
years, was educated under nearly similar circuir-
stances, and, in 1551, he taught philosophy in the
university of Paris. Having afterwards applied him-
self to the study of medicine, he rose to be dean of
that faculty at Paris, an office of the very highest
dignity which could then be reached by a member
of the medical profession. He appears to have been
one of the earliest modem physicians who gave
a sanction to the practice of letting blood. He
published various treatises on medicine, and also
ujion philosophy, of which a list is preserved in
^Iackenzie's Lives of Scots Writers. He acted at
one time as physician to the Duke of Longueville,
with a salary of 200 pistoles. At another time,
when the plague prevailed at Paris, he remained in
the city, and exerted himself so zealously in the cure
of his numerous patients, as to gain universal ap-
plause. He died in 1613 or 1614, at a very advanced
age.

ELACKWOOD.Wil.LlAM, an eminent publisher,
and originator of the magazine which bears his name,
was born in Edinburgh, November 20, 17765 <>f
parents who, though in humble circumstances, bore
a respectable character, and were able to give this
and their other children an excellent elementan."
education. At the age of fourteen he commenced
an apprenticeship with Messrs. Bell and Bradfute,
booksellers in his native city, with whom he con-
tinued six years. During this time he stored h:;
mind with a large fund of miscellaneous reading,
which was of great service to him in after-life. It is
probable that he at the same tiire manifested r.o
common talents for business, as, soon after the ex-
piration of his apprenticeship [1797], he^^as sckcttd
by Messrs. J. ^Iundell and Company, then carnii;;,'
on an extensive publishing business in the .'^cutti-li
capital, to take the charge of a branch of their a 11-
ccrn which they had resolved to establish in tila-^-'iw.
Mr. I!!ackwooil acted as the Glasgow ai;c:n ' f
Munilell and Company for a year, duiirg \\h;ch
time he improved greatly as a man i-l lii:,-ir,L-s.
Thrown in a great mcnsisre r.pi)n lii^ ('wn rc^' uixis.
he here acquired habts of doLi.-ion. >i:v;h as .".re
rarely formed at so early an n,L:e. al^l \v!;;l!i wire
afterwards of the greatest imrortanco to l-iini. lln\--
ing also occasion to write Irc'inently to b.is con-
stituents, he formed a stylo for c^imnicrci.il corn. --
pon.ienCv\ the excellencj "f v.'iicli wk a -v.'';-^: of
frequerit rjniark at a !.-.".cr ;■:;;■' i ol h:- l.;e.

144

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD.

At the end of the year, when the business he had
conducted at Glasgow was given up, Mr. Black-
wood returned to Messrs. Bell and Bradfute, with
whom he continued about a year longer. He then
(iSoo) entered into partnership with Mr. Robert
Ross, a bookseller of some standing, who also acted
as an auctioneer of books. Not long after, finding
the line of business pursued by Mr. Ross uncon-
genial to his taste, he retired from the partnership,
and, proceeding to London, placed himself, for
improvement in the antiquarian department of his
trade, under Mr. Cuthill. Returning once more to
Edinburgh in 1S04, he set up on his own account
in a shop in South Bridge Street, where for several
years he confined his attention almost exclusively to
the department just alluded to, in which he was
allowed to have no rival of superior intelligence in
Scotland. The catalogue of old books wliich he
published in 1S12, being the first of the kind in
which the books were classified, and which referre<l
to a stock of uncommon richness and variety, con-
tinues till the present day to be a standard autiiority
for the prices of old books. At this period of his
career Mr. Black woo<l liecame agent for several of
the first London publishing houses, and also began
to publish extensively for himself. In 1816, ha^'ing
resolved to throw a larger share of his energies into
the latter department of business, he sold off his stock
of old books, and removed to a shop in tlie new
town, soon to become one of the most memorable
localities connected with modern literary historj-.

For a considerable time Mr. Blackwood had been
of opinion that something like the same regeneration
which ihe EJinhuri^h A'rt'/tTi' had given to periodical
criticism, might be communicated to that species of
miscellaneous literature which chiclly assumed the
monthly form of publication. At this time the
Seals .Vfa^azim of his native city, which had never
pretended to any merit above that of a correct
register, was scarcely in any respect more fiat and
insipid than the publications of the same kind in
Ix)ndon. It was reserved for the original and ener-
getic mind of the subject of this memoir, to raise
this department of popular literature from the humble
state in which it had hitherto existed, or to which,
wiien we recollect the labours of Johnson and Gold-
smith, we may rather say it had sunk, and to place
it on the eminence for which it was evidently fitted.
The first numlier of lUackn'ootf s .\f,r^aziiie appeared
in .\pril, 1S17, and, tiiough bearing more resem-
blance to preceding publications of tiie same kind
than it afterwards a-ssumed, the work was from the
iw-rX acknowledged by the public to i)ossess su]ierior
merit. The publishers of the eider magazines made
an almost immediate, though indirect confession to
this effect, by attempts to jiut new and more attrac-
tive faces ujxju their jiutjlications, and stimulate llie
lagging energies of thine who conducted tiiem. Tiie
two young men who were ciiielly engagcl u]ion the
work of .Mr. IJlackwood. having disagreed with him,
were employed by .Mr. ('unstable to take the charge
of the Sci>ls .\fai;azini; which he, like otliers in simi-
lar circumstances, was endeavouring to resuscitate
from the sluml)er5 of a century. Sir. Blackwood
was already m<ire than indepemlcnt of these gentle-
men, in consefjuence of the aid whicli he was receiv-
ing from other <piarters; but I)itter feelings had
nevertheless t)een engendered, and the>e foun<l vent,
through the fancy of some of his new contrit)utors,
in the celel)rated article in the seventh number of
his magazine, styled 'I'rauslatwn cf a Chaldci- Manu-
script. In thisyVw tfisf-rtt, the cjrcmnstances of tlie
late feud, and the efforts of Mr. (."onstable to repair
the fortunes of his ancient magazine, were thrown

into a form the most burlesque that ever imagination
conceived, though certainly with very little of the ill
nature which the article unfortunately excited in the
most of those who figured in it. In consequence of
the painful feelings to which it gave rise, Mr. Black-
wood cancelled it from all the copies within his
reach; and it is now, consequently, very rarely to be
met with.

Blackn'oocVs Magazine, as already hinted, had not
been in progress for many months before it obtained
the support of new and unexpected talent. Mr,
John Wilson, already distinguished by his beautiful
poetry, and Mr. John G. Lockhart, whose more
regular, though perhaps less brilliant genius after-
wards found a fitting field in the management of the
Quarterly Revieic, were at this time young men en-
deavouring to make their way at the Scottish bar.
Having formed an attachment to Mr. Blackwood,
they threw into his literary repertory the overflow-
ing bounties of two minds, such as rarely rise singly,
and much more rarely together; and soon enchained
the attention of the public to a series of articles not
more remarkable for their ability, than for an almost
unexampled recklessness of humour and severity of
sarcasm. It is not to be denied that much offence
was thus occasionally given to the feelings of indi-
viduals; but, in extenuation of any charge which can
be rested on such grounds, it may be pointed out
that, while Mr. Blackwood had his own causes of
complaint in the ungenerous hostility of several of
his commercial brethren, the whimsical genius of his
contributors had unquestionably found a general
]irovocation in the overweening pretensions and
ungracious deportment of several of their literary
seniors, some of whom had, in their own youth,
manifested equal causticity, with certainly no greater
show of talent. To these excuses must be added
the relative one of politics. Mr. Blackwood from
the first took a strong part with the existing Tory
government, which in Edinburgh had been power-
fully supported heretofore in every manner except
by the pen, while the opposition had long possessed
a literary organ of the highest authority. In treat-
ing, therefore, of some of the juvenile indiscretions
of this extraordinary work, and those connected with
it, we must, if willing to preserve impartiality, re-
collect the keenness with which politics and political
men were then discussed.

In the management of the magazine, Mr. Black-
wood at all times bore in his own person the prin-
cipal share. The selection of articles, the corres-
]>ondence with contributors, and other duties con-
nected with editorship, were performed by him during
a period of seventeen years, with a degree of skill
on which it is not too much to say that no small
portion of the success of the work depended. In its
earlier years he contributed two or three articles
himself; but to this, as a practice, he had a decided
objection, as he could easily perceive that an editor,
es])ecially one like himself not trained to letters, is
n])t to lie Inasscd respecting his own compositions.
It may easily be conceived, however, that, in the
management of the literary and mercantile concerns
f)f such a work, there was sufficient emjiloymcnt I'or
even a man of his extraordinary energies. And no
small praise must it ever be to tlie sul)jcct of this
brief memoir, that, during so long a ])eriod, he
maintained in his work so much of the vivid spirit
with wliich it set out; kept up so unfailing a suc-
cession of lirilliant articles in general literature,
altogether exclusive of the regular ])apers of Mr.
Wilson, — as if he were exhausting mind after mind
among the literary men of his country, and still at
no loss to discover new; and never throuiihout his

HUGH BLAIR.

145

whole career, varied in a single page from the
political key-note which he had struck at the com-
mencement. To have done these things, and with
so much apparent ease to himself, and so little
ostentation — lor these were features in his masterly
career — argues, inouropinion, acharacterofunwonted
vigour, as well as no small share of intellectual
power.

The magazine eventually reached a circulation
not much short of ten thousand copies, and, while
reprinted in North America, found its way from the
publisher's warehouse into every other part of the
world where the English language was spoken.
Notwithstanding the great claims it made upon his
time, Mr. Blackwood continued till his death to
transact a large share of business as a general pub-
lisher. Not long before that event, he completed
the Edinburgh Encyclopedia, in eighteen volumes
quarto, and among his other more important
publications, may be reckoned Kerr's Collection of
Voyages and Travels, in eighteen volumes octavo.
The chief distinct works of Messrs. Wilson, Lock-
hart, Hogg, Moir, Gait, and other eminent persons
connected with his magazine, and some of the writ-
ings of Sir Walter Scott, were published by Mr.
Blackwood. He also continued till the close of
his career to carry on an extensive trade in retail
bookselling.

Mr. Blackwood died, September i6, 1834, after
a painful illness of four months. His disease, a
tumour in the groin, liad in that time exhausted his
physical energies, but left his temper calm and un-
ruffled, and his intellect entire and vigorous even to
the last.

In the words of his obituarist, "No man ever
conducted business in a more direct and manly
manner tlian Mr. Blackwood. His opinion was on
all occasions distinctly expressed; his questions were
ever explicit; his answers conclusive. His sincerity
might sometimes be considered as rough, but no
human being ever accused him either of flattering or
of shuffling; and those men of letters who were in
frequent communication witli him, soon conceived
a respect and confidence for him, which, save in a
very few instances, ripened into cordial regard and
friendship. The ma-iculine steadiness and imper-
turbable resolution of his character were impressed
on all his proceedings; and it will be allowed by
those who watched him through his career, as the
puljjisher of a literary and political miscellany, that
these qualities were more than once very severely
tested. He dealt l)y parties exactly as he did by
individuals. Whether his j)rinciples were right or
wrong, they were his, and he never compromised
or complimented away one tittle of them. No
clianges, either of men or of measures, ever dimmed
his eye or ciiecked his courage."

Mr. Blackwood was twice a magistrate of his
native city, and in that capacity distinguished
himself l)y an intrepid zeal in the reform of burgh
management, singularly in contrast with his avowed
sentiments respecting constitutional reform.

BLAIR. llr(-,ir, I). IX, one of the most eminent
divines and cultivators of polite literature of the
eighteenth ccnti'.r}-, \va-> tiorn at Edinburgh, A]5ril
7, 1718. His father, John Blair, a merchant of
Edinburgh, and who at one time occupied a re-
si)ectable oiTice in the magi-^tracy, was grandson to
Roljert Blair, an eniinent divine of the seventeenth
century, whi>>e lite is commcnioraled in its jirojier
place in this work. John lilair was thus cousin,
german to thoauthor of 7/;,- GraTW who-e life follows,
in the present wurk, tliat of hi^ distinguished ances-

VOL. I.

tor. John Blair, having impaired his fortune by
engaging in the South Sea scheme, latterly held an
office in the excise. He married Martha Ogston,
and the first child of this marriage was the subject
of the following memoir.

Hugh Blair was early remarked by his father to
possess the seeds of genius. For this reason, joined
to a consideration, perhajis, of his delicate constilu.
tion, he was educated for the church. He com-
menced his academic career at the university of
Edinburgh, October, 1730, and as his weakly health
disabled him from enjoying the usual sports of
boyhood, his application to study was very close.
Among the numerous testimonies to his proficiency
which were paid by his instructors, one cieserves to
be particularly mentioned, as, in his own opinion,
it determined the bent of his genius towards polite
literature. An essay, Ilepi tov kixKov, that is, upon
the Beautifl'L,' written by him when a student of
logic in the usual course of academical exercises,
had the good fortune to attract the notice of Professor
.Stevenson, and, with circumstances honouraltle to
the author, was appointed to l)e read in j)ublic at
the conclusion of the session. This mark of distinc-
tion, which occurred in his sixteenth year, made a
deep impression on his mind; and the essay which
merited it he ever after recollected with partial
affection, and preserved to the day of his death, as
the first earnest of his fame.

At this time Dr. Blair commenced a method of
study which contributed much to the accuracy and
extent of his knowledge, and which he continued to
practise occasionally even after his reputation was
fully established. It consisted in making abstracts
of the most important works which he read, and in
digesting them according to the train of his own
thoughts. History, in particular, he resolved to
study in this manner; and in concert with some
of his youthful associates, he constructed a very
comprehensive scheme of chronological tables, for
receiving into its proper place every important fact
which should occur. The scheme devised by this
young student for his own private use was afterwards
improved, filled up, and given to the public, by his
learned relative Dr. John Blair, jirebendary of West-
minster, in his valuable work TJic Chronology and
History of the World.

In 1739, on taking the degree of Master of Arts,
Blair printed his thesis, De Fundatnoitis et Obliga-
tione Legis Xattircv, which contains a brief outline of
these moral principles afterwards developed in his
sermons, and displays the first dawnings of tliat vir-
tuous sensiljility by which he was at all periods of
his public life so highly distinguished. On the 2 1st
of October, I74i,hewas licensed as a preacher by
the presbytery of Edinburgh, and soon liegan, in the
usual manner, to exhibit himself occasionally in the
jnilpit. Heretofore the only popular style of preach-
ing in Scotland was that of the evangelical ]'arty,
which consisted chiefly in an impassioned address to
the devotional feelings of the audience. The iiu der-
ate party, who were of course least pojH'.lar. had
neither lost the practice of inthilging in tc iious
theological disquisitions, nor aciniircd th.r.t "f i.\ra-
tiating on the moral duties. Th.e sermons ot ib.is
young licentiate, which presented sound ] r.^.Liical
d.oetrines in a style of language alinost ur,kno\vn in
Scotland, struck the minds of the auilienee a- some-
thing finite new. In tlie cnirse ^^i a \ cry few ir.or.ihs
his fame had travelled far l)evond the houi;ds of his

1 .\ tc-chni.:al ( Irce'^ phraso
the fertVctim . f l.c.-ir.ty in <j'! •
"Tr. k.Tlon " in tl-at v.:\\\ ■'^. \\
uiiJcrstanu Ly a C-r.-ccl ta=:c.

t- tno

10

146

HUGH BLAIR.

native city. A sermon which he preached in the
West Church produced an extraordinary impression,
and was spoken of in highly favourable terms to the
Earl of Leven. His lord>hip accordiiiLjly presented
the preacher to the parish church of Colessie in P'ife,
which happened to he then vacant. 1 le was ordained
to this charge, .September 23, 1 742, but was not long
jiermitted to labour in so confined a scene. In a few
months he was brought forward by his friends as
candidate for the second charge of the church of
Canongate, which may almost be considered a metro-
politan situation. In the jiopular election which
followed, he was successful against a very formidable
competitor, Mr. Robert Walker, then a favourite
preacher. He was inducted to this charge, July 14,
1743, when he had little more than comjileted his
twenty-fifth year. On the occasion of the insurrec-
tion of 1745, HIair preached a sermon in the warmest
strain of loyalty ti> the existing government, and
which he afterwards printed. During the eleven
years which he spent in the Canongate, his sermons
attracted large audiences from the adjoining city, and
were alike admired for tlieir eloquence and piety.
They were c<>nip<>se<l with uncomm<.m care; and, oc-
cujiying a middle place between the dry metaphysical
discussion of one cla-s of preachers, and the loose
incoherent declamation of the other, they blended
together in the happiest manner the light ofarginnent
with the wannth of exhortation, and exhibited capti-
vating specimens of what had hitherto been rarely
heard in Scotland, — the polished, well-compacted,
and regidar didactic oration.

On the nth of October, 1754, he was called by
the town-council of Kdinburgli to one of the city
charges, that of I.ady Vester's church, and on the
15th of Jimc, 175S, he was promoted by the same
b ) ly to the highest .situation attainable by a .Scottish
clerg\'man — one of the charges of tiie High Church.
This latter removal took place, according to the
records of the town-council, "because they had it
fully ascertained that his translation would be highly
acceptable to persons of the most distinguished char-
acter and eminent rank in this country who had seats
in said church." In truth, this place of wor^^hiji might
have been styled, in the absence of an episcopal sys-
tem, the metropolitan churcii of Scotland. In it sat
the Lords of .Session and all the other great law and
state officers, besides the magistrates and council, and
a large congregation of the most res])ectahle inhabi-
tants of the town. It might now therefore be sai<l
that the eloquence of liliir had at last reached a fit
theatre for its disjilay. In the year previous to this
last translation he had bcc!i honoured by the univer-
sity of St. .\ndrews with the 'legree of 'l ).!)., whicli
was then very rare in .'Scotland.

Hitherto iJlair's attenti(Mi seem-; to have lieen
chiefly devoted to his ]>rofeSsion. \o jiroduction of
his pen had yet been given to the world by himself,
except two sermons jireached on jiarticular ocLasions,
some translations of ]iassagL-s of .Scrijiture fir the
psalmody of t!ie church, and the article <in 1 Iiitchf ■^on's
system of moral phiioso],hy for the /■'.Jiii/'!ii\'/i AV-
7:<r,i' — a periodical work begun in I7;5 jiv Iliiine,
Robertson, and f)thers, and which onl\ cxUiid'-d t >
two numbers. Standing, as he now did, at th'' lu-nd
of his jirofcssion, nnrl released, by the labour of furuicr
years, from the drudgery of weekly preparation ^',r
the yjulpit. he began to think seriously on a plan for
teaching to others the art which had contr;''Uled o
m'.ich to his f>wn fame. Some years bfire, 1 )r.
.Adam Smith had delivered in iviiiili'.irgh a srric-, i,f
lectures on rhetoric and elegant literature, whicii had
b-en well received. In 1750 I>r. I'.lair connnenced,
with the appri'ljation of the univer-ity, a course upon

the principles of literary composition. The most
zealous friends to this undertaking were David Hume
and Lord Karnes, the latter of whom had devoted
much attention to the subject. The approbation
bestowed upon the lectures was so very high, and
their fame became so generally diffused, that the
town-council resolved to institute a rhetorical class
in the university, under his direction; and, in 1762,
this professorship was taken under the protection of
the crown, with a salary of ^70 pounds a year. Dr.
lilair continued to deliver his lectures annually till
1783, when he published them for the more extensive
benefit of mankind. They are not by any means,
nor were they ever pretended to be, a profound or
original exposition of the laws of the />cHes Idtrcs.
They are acknowledged to be a compilation from
many different sources, and only designed to form
a simple and intelligible code for the instruction of
youth in this department of knowledge. Regarded
in this light, they are entitled, to very high praise,
which has accordingly been liberally bestowed by
the public. These lectures have been repeatedly
]5rinted, and still remain an indis{)ensablc monitor in
the study of every British scholar.

In 1763 Dr. Blair made his first appearance before
the world as an auJior or critic. He had, in common
with his friend John Home, taken a deep interest in
the exertions of Macpherson for the recovery of the
Highland traditionaiy poetry. Relying without sus-
]Mcion upon the faith of the collector, he prefixed to
the Poems of Ossiaii a dissertation pointing out the
beauties of those compositions. The labour must of
course be now pronounced in a great measure useless;
but nevertheless, it remains a conspicuous monument
of the taste of Dr. Blair.

It was not till 1777 that he could be prevailed
upon to offer to the world any of those sermons with
which he had so long delighted a private congrega-
tion. We have his own authority for saying that it
was his friend Lord Kames who was chiefly instru-
mental in prompting him to take this step. For a
long period hardly any sermons published either in
ICngland or .Scotland had met with success. The
public taste seemed to have contracted an aversion to
this species of composition. We are informed by
Boswell in his Li/co/Jo/uisoit, that, when lilair trans-
mitted a volume to Mr. .Strahan, the king's printer,
that gentleman, after letting it lie beside him for some
time, returned a letter discouraging the publication.
It is probable that this opinion, which seems to have
been given only on general grounds, might have
caused Dr. Blair to abandon his intention; but for-
tunately, Mr. Strahan had sent one of the sermons to
1 )r. Johnson for his o])inion, and after his unfavour-
able letter to Dr. lilair had been sent off, he received
Ironi Johnson on Christmas eve, 1776, a note, of
wliicli the following is a paragrajsh: "I have read
over Dr. I'.lair's first sermon with more than api)ro-
liatioii; to say it is good is to say too little." Mr.
Strahan had very soon after this time a conversation
witli Dr. Johnson concerning the sermons; and then
he very candidly wrote again to Dr. Blair, inchjsing
Jolmson's note, and agreeing to purchase the volume,
\\\\\\ .Mr. Cadell, for ^loo. The sale ^\as so rn])id
and extensive, and the ap]irobation o{ the jiuMic
^'> high, that, to their hf)nour be it recorded, the
]iro])rietors made Dr. Blair a jiresent, first of cjiie
■uni, and afterwards of another of ^50, tluis volun-
tiirily doubling the sti])ulatcd ]irice. l'erlia])s in no
country, not even in his own, were these con)])ositions
so highly ai)])reciated as in England. There they
W' le received with the keenest relish, n(jt only on
.•'crnuni of their abstract excellence, l)Ut ])arlly fr<;m
a kind of suiq.rise as to the quarter from which they

HUGH BLAIR.

147

came — no devotional work protluced by Scotland
having ever before been found entitled to much atten-
tion in the soutliern section of the island. The
volume speedily fell under the attention of George
HI. and his virtuous consort, and was by them very
highly admired. His majesty, with that wise and
sincere attention to the interests of religion and
virtue which constituted the best part of his reign,
was graciously ])leased to judge the author worthy
of a public reward. By a royal mandate to the ex-
chequer in .Scotland, dated July 25, 1780, a pension
of ^"200 a year was bestowed on Dr. lilair. It is
said tjiat the sermons were first read in the royal
closet by the Earl of Mansfield; and there is little
reason to doubt that they were indebted in some
degree to the elocution of the "elegant Murray" for
the impression which they produced upon the royal
family.

During the subsequent part of his life Dr. Blair
published three other volumes of sermons; and it
might safely be said that eacli successive publication
only tended to deepen the impression produced by
the first. These compositions, whicli were translated
into almost every language in Europe, formed only
a small part of the discourses whicli he prepared for
the puljiit. The number of those which remained
was creditable to his professional ciiaracter, and ex-
hibited a convincing proof tliat his fame as a public
teacher iiad been honourably purchased by the most
unwearied application to the private and unseen la-
bours of his office. Out of liis remaining manuscripts
he had prepared a fifth volume, which appeared after
his death; the rest, according to an explicit injunction
in his will, were committed to the flames. Tiie last
sermon which he composed was one in the fiftli
volume, "on a life of dissi])ation and pleasure."
Though written at the age of eighty-two, it is a digni-
fied and elocjuent discourse, and may be regarded as
his solenm parting admonition to a class of men
whose conduct is highly important to the community,
and whose reformation antl virtue he had long la-
boured most zealously to promote.

Tlie vSkrmons of Blair are not now, perliaps, to
lie criticized witli that blind admiration whicli ranked
them, in their own time, amidst the classics of Eng-
lish literature. The present age is now generally
sensil)le that tiiey are deficient in that religious unction
which constitutes the better part of such comjiositions,
and are but little calculated to stir and rouse the
heart to a sense of spiritual duty. Everything, how-
ever, must be considered more or less relatively.
Blair's mind was formed at a time when the fervours
n{ evangelical divinity were left by the informed
classes generally to the lowly and uninstructed
hearts, wiiich, after all, are the great citadels of re-
ligion in every country. A certain order of the
clergy, towards the end of the eighteenth century,
>„-cincd to find it necessary, in order to jirevent an
absolute revolt of the higlier orders from the stan-
tlards of religion, to accommodate tliemselves to the
]irevailir!gta-le. and only administer moral discourses,
with an in--inuated modicum of real pietv, where their
proper purpo>e unquestionably is to maintain spiritual
grace in the breasts of tiie people l)y all the means
wiiich tiie gospel iia-; ])laced within their reach.
Thus, as Blair ]ireaclied to tlie most refined congre-
gation in .Scotland, he coulil liardly have failed to fall
into this prevalent la^-hion; an<l he i>erhaps con-
sidered, with iitrrccl .-incerit)-, that he was Justified
by the precept of St. I'aul. whicli commands the
ministers of relii;ioii to ]k- '•all things to all men.''
Religious feeling is nioditied by time and i>lace; and
I do 11. >t apprehend it to be iinpossii)Ie that the mind
of Hugh Blair, existing at t'lie time of his cele'jrate'.l

ancestor, might have exerted itself in maintaining
the covenant, and inspiring the populace with the
energy necessary for that purpose; while the intellect
and heart of his i)redece.ssor, if interchanged, might
have spent their zeal in behalf of llenr\' Viscount
Melville, and in gently pleasing the niinds of a
set of modern indifferents with one grain of the
gospel dissolved into a large cooling-draught of mc^ral
disquisition.

The remaining part of the life of Blair hardly
affords a single additional incident. He had been
married in 1748 to his cousin, Katherine Bannatync,
daughter of the Rev. James Bannatyne, one of the
ministers of Edinburgh. 15y this lady he had a son
who died in infancy, and a daughter, who sur%ived to
her twenty-first year — the pride of her jiarents, and
adorned with all the accomplishments which belong
to her age and sex. Mrs. Blair — herself a woman
of great good sense and spirit — was also taken from
him a few years before his death, after she had shared
with the tenderest affection in all his fortunes, and
contributed nearly half a century to his hapi)iness
and comfort. The latter part of his life was s])ciu in
the enjoyment of a degree of public respect \\ hich
falls to the lot of few men, but which was eminently
deserved by him, both on account of his high liter-
ary accomplishments, and the singular purity and
benevolence of his private character. He latterly
was enabled, by the various sources of income w hich
he enjoyed, to set up a carriage — a luxurj- eiij<jyed,
perhaps, by no predecessor in the .Scottish church,
and by very few of his successors. He also main-
tained an elegant hospitality, both at his town and
country- residences, which were much resorted to
by strangers of distinction who hai)pened to visit
Edinlnirgh.

It may be curious to know in what manner those
discourses were delivered from the jiuljjit, which have
so highly charmed the world in print. As might be
easily supposed, where there was so much merit of
one kind, there could scarcely, without a miracle, be
any high degree of another and entirely tiitTerent
kind. In truth, the elocution of Dr. Blair, though
accompanied by a dignified and impressive manner,
was not fit to be compared with his powers of com-
]iosition. His voice was deformed by a peculiarity
which I know not how to exjiress by any other term
than one almost too homely for modern comi)Osition
— -a /'//;-;-. He also wanted all that cliann which is
to be derived fr«jm gesticulation, and, upon the
whole, might be characterized as a somewhat I'ormal
preacher.

In what is called church politics Dr. Blair was a
strenuous moderate, but never took an active share
in the jiroceedings of the clnirch. .\ constitutional
delicacy of organization unfitted him for any scene
where men have to come into strong and per-oual
collision. In temporal politics he was a ilcvout
admirer of the existing constitution, and a /ljIous
supporter of the Tory government which tlour:~hcii
during tiie greater part i.>f tlie reign of (',c<-'yj,u 111.
Witii Viscount Melville, to whose father he l.a'i
dedicated his thesis in early youlli. he ina:i.tr.;ni.-d
a constant interchange of ciNilities. At the Kic ak;i;g
out of the French reviiluiioii he excited lii:r.-el: ;n
the most energetic manner to st"p the li'ie • ; ■:>-
aflection and irreligion wiiich at o!ie ] aitiei;..'.! l:>>
seemed to tlireaten all existii^L; \n<i:u:^"i:-. He
declared in tlie pulpit thatn^ne b'.it a g- " i -■..: ;ei t
could be a g^iod C'lu-i-!ian: an e\; le-;.'". s" -::■■:. g.y
akin to tlie ancient doelrine- ol ja — i-.c '■;". ixnie
and non-resistance, tl'.at it e.r.i oi.'yi.e e.\i'i-e'! I y
the ]iartici',!.
of Blair \\ .'i

.■uiii^taiK

I4S

JAMES BLAIR- — JOHN BLAIR.

display anything of the majestic. Possessing more
taste than genius, he never astonished in conversa-
tion by any original remark. In company he made
a far less striking appearance than tlie half-instnicted
peasant Burns, who, at his first visit to Edinburgh,
was warmly patronizeil by Dr. Blair. In some
points of view, his mind bore an unprepossessing
aspect. He was content to read, and weak enough
to atimire, the wretched fictitious compositions which
appeared in that age uniler the denomination of
novels. He would talk profusely of the furniture of
the room in which he was sitting, criticizing every
object with a sincere and well-weighed attention,
which would not have been ill-bestowed upon the
most solemn subjects. In his dress, anil in ahnost
all points of mere t-xUr/w and ceremonial form, he
was minutely fastidious. He was also so fond of
the approbation of his fellow-creatures — in modera-
tion a most useful feature of character — that even
very marke<l flattery w.as received by him not only
without displeasure, but with an obviously keen
relish, that said little either for his discrimination or
his miKJesty. Vet, with these le>s wt)rthy points (jf
character, Blair had no mean moral feelings. He
was incapable of envy, spoke Hberally and candidly
of men wh<ise pursuits and o])inions ditferctl from his
own, and was seldom betrayed into a severe remark
upon any subject unconnected with actual vice.

Though his bodily constitution w.ts l)y no means
robust, yet by habitual temperance and by attention
to health, his life was hapjiUy prolonged beyond the
usual period. Eor some years he had felt liiniself
uncfjual to tlie fatigue of instructing his very large
congregation from the jnilpit; and un<ler the im-
jiression which this feeling produced, he has been
heard to say with a sigh, that "he was left almost
the last of his contemi)(>rarics.'' .Such, nevertheless,
was the vigour of his mind, that in 1799, when past
the eightieth year of his age, he composed and
preached one of the most efTective sermons he ever
delivered, on behalf of the fund for the l)enefit of the
sons of the clergy. He w.as also employed during
the summer of iSoo in ]>reparing his List volume for
the prc^s; and for this ])uriio>e he co])ied the whole
with his own hand. He began the winter, jileased
with himself on account of this exertion; ami his
friends were flattered with the ho])e that he might
live to enjoy the accession of emolument and fame
which he expected it would l)ring. Mat the seeds of
a mortal disease were lurking within him. ( )n the
24th of December he felt slight jaiii in his bcjwels,
with which neither he nor his friends were alarmed.
On the afternoon of the 26ih, this ]Kiin increased,
and violent sym[)toms began to appear, llie causes
of which were then unfortunately unknown both to
himself and his iihyvieian. He had for a few veais
laboured under an inguinal liernia. 'i hi-, malady,
which he was impruiielitly dis|)(,>(.-d to conie.il, he
considere'i as trifling; an<l he understood ihat. hv
taking the ordinary jirecautions, nothing w:;^ t.. be
aj)prehenile<l from it. It settled, however, intcj .n
sto[)],.ige of the bowels, and ere the jiliN-irian was
made aware of his con'lition. an inllammntion had
taken place, and he coiwrijuently sur\ived oiiK till
the morning of the 27tli. thus ex]>iring .almost at the
same time with that century of the (lui-.ii.in e])<nh
of which he had l<een one of the mo^t 'listmgni-hed
ornaments. He died in the eighty-third year of h'-.-
age, and the fifty-ninth of his profession as a inini-trr
of the gospel.

BLAIR. Jamf.s, nn eminent d)\ine. was reared for
the I-piscopal church of .Scotland, at the time when
it was struggling with the popular di.dikc in the reign

of Charles II. Discouraged by the equivocal situa-
tion of that establishment in Scotland, he voluntarily
abandoned his prefennents and removed to England,
where he was patronized by Compton, Bishop of
London. By this prelate he was prevailed upon to
go as a missionary to Virginia, in 1685, and, having
given the greatest satisfaction by his zeal in the pro-
pagation oi^ religion, he was, in 16S9, preferred to the
office of commissary to the bishop, which was the
highest ecclesiastical dignity in that province. His
exertions were by no means confined to his ordinary
duties. Observing the disadvantage under which
the province laboured through the want of seminaries
for the education of a native clerg)-, he set about, and
finally was able to accomplish, the honourable work
of founding the college of Williamsburgh, which was
afterwards, by his personal intervention, endowed by
King William HI., with a patent, under the title of
the William and Mary College. He died in 1743,
after having been president of this institution for
about fifty, and a minister of the gospel for above
sixty, years. He had also enjoyed the office of
jiresident of the council of Virginia. In the year
before his death he had published at London his
great work, entitled Our Saviour's Diviiic Sermon on
the Mount explained, and the Practice of it Recom-
mended, in divers Sermons and Discourses, 4 vols.
8vo., which is styled by Dr. Waterland, the editor of
a second edition, "a valuable treasure of sound di-
vinity and practical Christianity."

BLAIR, Joiix, a churchman of noble family,
who, being compelled by the tyranny of Edward I. in
Scotland to join the bands of Sir William Wallace,
became chaplain to that hero, and did not scruple
also to take a share in his battles. He wrote an
account of the deeds of Wallace, w hich is now lost,
but is supposed to have furnished materials to Blind
Harry. Another work of Blair's was styled, De
Libcraia 'Jyrannide Scotia.

BLAIR, Joilx, LL.D., an eminent chronologist,
was, as already mentioned in the memoir of Dr.
Hugh Blair, a relative of that distinguished jK^r-
sonage. He received a clerical education at Edin-
burgh, and afterwards went in search of cmjdoyment
to London, along with Mr. Andrew Henderson,
author of a History of t lie Rebellion of 1745, and
many other \yorks, and who, for some years, kept a
bookseller's sho]i in Westminster Hall. As Hen-
derson describes himself as residing in Edinburgh at
the time of the battle of I'restonpans, it is probable
that Blair's removal to London took ]-)!ace after that
event. 1 leiKlerson's first em]do}nient was that of
an Usher at a school in Hedge Lane, in which he
was succeeded by Blair. The attention of the latter
h.ad probably been directed to chronology by the
example of Dr. Hugh Blair, who, as already men-
tioned, commenced a series of tables of events for
hi- own jirivate use, which ultimately formed the
foumlatioii of the work given to the world, in 1754,
uivler the title of The Chro)iolo:^y and History oj the
World, fruiii the Creation to the year of Christ, 1753;
"ilhi-tiated in fifty-six tables, of which four are in-
trodiirior}-, and contain the centuries ]iri()r to tlie
lir-t Olympiad, aiul each of the remaining fifty-two
contain, in one ex]ianded view, fifty )ears, or half a
(eiitmy. by the Kev. John I'.laii', LL.D." This
I.ir-e and \alual.le uork was jniblished by subscri])-
lioii, and wa- dedicated to Lord-chancellor Ilard-
"'*kc. In (ainiary, 17^5, Dr. John Blair was
el. .led F.K.S.. and in 1761, F.A.S. In 1756 he
I'liblidicd a new edition of his Chrojiolo:^y. In
S(].iember, 1757, he was ajipointed chaplain to the

PATRICK BLAIR

ROBERT BLAIR.

149

Dowager Princess of Wales, and mathematical tutor
to the Duke of Yorlc (brother to George III.); and
on Dr. Townshond's promotion to the deanery of
Norwich, the services of Dr. Blair were rewarded,
March, 1 761, with a prebendal stall in Westminster
Ahhey. .Siicii a series of rapidly accumulating hon-
ours has fallen to the lot of very few Scottish adven-
turers. But tliis was not destined to be the en<l of
his good fortune. He had only been prebend of
Westminster six days, when the death of the vicar
of Hinckley, in Leicestershire, enabled the dean and
chapter to' present him to that valuable living, to
which was soon after added, the rectory of Burton-
coggles in Lincolnshire. In 1763-4 he made the tour
of the Continent, in company willi his royal pupil.
A new and enlarged edition of his ChroiioUr^y ap-
peared in 1768, and in 177 1 lie was presented, by
the Dean and Chapter of Westminster, to the vicar-
age of .St. Bride's in the city of London, which made
it necessary for him to resign Hinckley. In 1776 he
resigned St. Bride's, in order to succeed to the rec-
tory of St. John the Evangelist in Westminster; and
in June that year he olitained a dispensation to hold
this benefice along willi tiiat of Horton, near Cole-
brooke, in Buckinghamsliire. In the memorable
sea-fight of the I2th of August, 1782, his brother.
Captain Blair, in the command of the Anson, was
one of three distinguislied officers who fell, and to
wiiom the country afterwards voted a monument.
This event gave such a shock to the venerable doctor,
who at that time suffered under influenza, that he
died at his house in Dean's Yard, Westminster, on
the 24th of June following. A work entitled. Lec-
tures on the Canons of the Old Testament, appeared
after his death; but his best monument unquestion-
ably will be his Chronolo;^y, the value of which has
been so amply acknowledged by the world.

BLAIR, P.VTRICK, M.D., an eminent botanist in
the earlier period of the existence of that science in
Britain, was first known as a practitioner of surgery
and physic at Dundee, where he brought himself
into prominent notice as an anatomist, 1706, by the
dissection of an elephant which died near that jalace.
He was a non-juror or .Scottish Episcopalian, and so
far attached to the exiled family of Stuart, as to be
imprisoned during the insurrection of 1715 ^s a sus-
pected person. He afterwards removed to London,
where he recommended himself to the attention of
the Royal Society by some discourses on the sexes
of flowers. His stay in London was short, and after
leaving it he settled at Boston in Lincolnshire,
where Dr. Pulteney conjectures that he practised
physic during the remainder of his life. The same
writer, in his Historical and Bio.;raphical Sketches
of En;^liih Botany, supposes that his death happened
soon after the publication of the seventh Decad
of Iiis rharmacohotaHolo[:;ia, in 172S.

Dr. Blair's first publication was entitled, Miscel-
laneous Ohsen'ations in Physic, Anatomy, Siiri:^ery,
and Bolanic/cs, Svo, 171S. In the botanical part of
this work he insinuates some tloubts relating to
the metho'i suggested by Petion and others, of de-
ducing the ([ualilies of vegetables from the agreement
in natural characters; and instances the Cyno.^lossum,
as tending to ]>rove the fallacy of this rule. He
relates several instances of the jioisonous eftects of
plants, and thiiik> the I'.chium mariniim ( Pidinonaria
niaritima of Linn;vu>) >hnuld be ranked in the genus
Cynoglossum. since it jul-scsm's a narcotic ji^iwer.
He describes and t'lgurc-- several of the more rare
British plants, which lu' had discovered in a tour
made into Wales; for in>tance, the Kuniex digynus.
Lobelia dortniann.a, Alisma ranunculoides, I'yrola

rotundifolia, Alchemilla alpina, &c. But the work
by which he rendered the greatest service to botany
originated with his Discourse on the Sexes of Plants,
read before the Royal Society, and afterwards greatly
amplified and published, at the request of several
members of that body, under the title of Botanical
lissays, Svo, 1 720. This treatise is divided into two
parts, containing five essays; the three first respecting
what is proper to plants, and the tw(} last what is
proper to plants and animals. This is acknow-
ledged by an eminent judge to have been the first
comjilete work, at least in the English language, on
that important department of botanical science, the
sexes of the plants. The author shows himself well
acquainted, in general, with all the opinions and
arguments which had been already circulated on the
same subject. The value of the work must wA be
estimated by the measure of modern knowledge,
though even at this day it may be read by those not
critically versed in the subject, with instruction and
improvement. A view of the several methods then
invented cannot be seen so connectedly in any other
English author. Dr. Blair strengthened the argu-
ments in proof of the sexes of plants by sound rea-
soning and some new experiments. His reasons
against Morland's opinion of the entrance of the
farina into the vasculum seminale, and his refuta-
tion of the Lewenhcekian theory, have met with the
sanction of the greatest names in modern Ijotany.
Dr. Blair's last distinct puldication, which he did
not live to complete, \\a.iJ'harmacol>otanolo;^ia; or, An
Alphabetical and Classical Dissertation on all the
British Indigenous and Garden Plants of the Xcui
Dispensatojy, 4to, 1723-28. In this woi-k, which
was carried no further than the letter II, the genera
and species are described, the sensible qualities and
medicinal powers are subjoined, with the pharma-
ceutical uses, and the author also notices several of
the more rare English ]ilants discovered by himself
in the environs of Boston. Dr. Blair's fugitive
writings consist of various papers in the Philosophical
Transactions, of which one of the most remarkable
is an account of the anatomy and osteolog}' of the
elephant, drawn up from his observations in dis-
secting the animal above alluded to at Dundee.

BLAIR, Robert, an eminent divine of the seven-
teenth century, was the sixth and youngest son of
John Blair of Windyedge in Ayrshire, and Beatrix
Muir, a lady of the honourable house of Rowallan.
He was bom at Irvine in 1593, and received his
education at the college of Glasgow. After acting
for some time as assistant to a teacher in that city,
he was appointed, in the twenty-second year of his
age, to be a regent or professor in the college. In
1616 he was licensed as a minister of the gospel.
Happening soon after to jireach before the celebrated
Roljert Bruce, antl being anxious to have the judg-
ment of so great and gootl a man upon his disci lursc,
he took the liberty of directly asking him how he
liked the sermon: Bruce said, "I found your scrmi^n
very polished and well digested: but tliere is (H'.e
thing I did miss in it — to wit, the Sjiirit oi (i"!: I
found not that." This criticism niaiic a 'Wl-\> .-.r.d
useful imjiression upon the young jTeaclur. I he
prospects of Mr. Blair at C'dasgnw were clou.ic'i. i:i
1622, by the accession of Cameron to the I'tr.cc (1
princijial in the college. This divine. l-..i.\;ng l><.en
imbued in France with the tenets i4 AMr.;:v.i>. i^e-
came a zealous ]>n>nii>ter ■ if the v;e">"t the c-urt,
for the introduction of I'.i'i-c >; '.uy iiit'> >c.'i'.and.
lilair s]ieedily became nh-.i.ixii'iw v< in- e\il ■ liKes.
and found it nece--ary tn re-ign hi- eh..irge. For
some vear:^ he ofi'.eiated to a I'le.-i'V.eriau c jiigre-

ROBERT BLAIR.

gallon at Bangour in Ireland, but in 1632 was
suspended, along with the equally famous preacher
Livingstone, by the Bishop of Down. He then went
over to court, to implore the interference of the
king (Charles I.), who at length gave a favourable
answer to his jietition, writing with his own hand
upon the margin, "Indulge these men, for they
are Scotsmen;' an e.xpression certainly honourable
to the heart of the unfortunate monarch. lUair was
one of those divines who were reputed in .'Scotland
to have direct communications with heaven, and a
power of prophetic vision. While waiting anxiously
for the return of his petition, he asked, and, as it is
recorded by his biographer, received, a sign from
heaven, xssuring him that his wishes wouUl be
realized. He also "had, from K/.ek. xxiv. 16, a
strange discovery of his wife's death, and the very
bed whereon she was lying, and the jiarticular ac-
quaintances attending her; and although she was in
good health at his return home, yet in a little all
this came to pass."' He had not been long re-
establishei^l at Bangour, when the bisiiop found
further fault with him, and again sentenced him to
be expelled. He now joined in a scheme set on
foot by various Presbyterian clergymen in similar
circumstances for fitting out a ship, and emigrating
to New Kngland. But l)eing driven back by a storm,
they conceived that the .Mmighty will was opposed
to their resolution, and accordingly abandoned the
scheme. Blair returned to Scotland to mingle in the
tumultuous scenes of the covenant. He jireached
for some time at .Vyr, and was afterwards settled by
the (leneral .\ssembly at St. Andrews. In 1640 he
accomjianied the .Scottish army into England, and
assisted at the negotiations for the peace of Rijion.
Afterthe first burst of the Irish rebellionofi64i, when
the Presbyterians of Ireland suii])licated the ticneral
.\ssem!)ly for a supjily of ministers, Itlair was one
of those who went over. He soon returned, how-
ever, to his charge at St. .Andrews. In autumn,
1645, when the Scottish cst.ites and (leneral As-
sembly were obliged l)y the prevalence of the pLaguc
at Edinburgh to sit in .St. .Vndrews, Blair took a
conspicuous part in the ])ri)secuti()n of .Sir Robert
.Spottiswoode and other adherents of Montnjse, who
had Ixicn taken prisoners at I'hiJiphaugh. Sir
Robert was sentenced to be beheaded as a traitor.
Blair was anxious that an exertion sliould be made
to turn Sir Robert horn the errors of his faith, so
that he might at lea>l die in the jirofession of tlie
tnie religion. He therefore attended him in jail,
and even at the scaffold, trying all his elofnicnce to
w.)rk a conversion. SpottisW(jode ajijiears to have
looked upon these effirts in a different spirit from
that in which they were made, and was provoked,
upon the very scalToM, to reject the prayer.-, of lii>
pious monitor in language far from eourtlv. .Mr.
Blair was equally unsuccessful with ( 'nptnin ( lutjirie,
son of the ex-bishop of Moray, who was soon after
executed at tlie s.ime place.

Blair was one of t!ie Scottish divines aiijiointed in
1645 to reason the king out of his ]',pis,:r,[,al pre-
possessions at Newcastle. Tlie <;elel)rate<l Citit, one
of his coadjutors in this task, having on<- <lav ac-
cused his Majesty of favouring I'opery, .Mr. illair
internipted him, and hinted that this was not a
jToper time or jdacc for making such a charge.
The unfortunate monarch, who certainlv had a
claim to this amount uj)on the gratitude of iilair,
appears to have felt the kindness of ilie remark.
.\t the death of Henderson iiis M.iie-tv appointed
Blair to be his successor as cha])Iaii) for Scotlanrl.

' .Vii'/j li'orliufs, new c :

In this capacity he had much intercourse with the
king, who one day asked him if it was warrantable
in prayer to determine a controversy. Blair, taking
the hii'it, said, that in the prayer just finished he dicl
not think that he had determined any controversy.
"Ves," said the king, "you determined the Pope to
be Antichrist, which is a controversy among divines."
Blair said he was sorry that this should be disputed
by his Majesty, for certainly it was not so by his
father. This remark showed great acuteness in the
royal chaplain, for Charles, being a constant de-
fender of the opinions of his father, whose authority
he esteemed above that of all professional theolo-
gians, was totally unable to make any reply. The
constancy of the king in his adherence to the chuixh
of Laud rendered, as is well known, all the advices
of the .Scottish divines unavailing. After spending
some months with his Majesty in his captivity at
Newcastle, Mr. Blair returned to .Scotland.

In 1648, when Cromwell came to Edinburgh for
the first time, the commission of the church sent
three divines, including Mr. Blair, to treat with him
for a uniformity of religion in England. The sectar-
ian general, who looked upon the Scottish Presby-
tery as no better than English Episcopacy, but yet
was anxious to conciliate the northern divines, en-
tertained this legation with smooth speeches, and
made many solemn appeals to God, as to the sin-
cerity of his intentions. Blair, however, had per-
ceived the real character of Cromwell, and thought
it necessaiy to ask explicit answers to the three
following categories: — i. What was his opinion of
monarchical government? To this he answered,
that he was for monarchical government; which
exactly suited the views of the Scottish Presbyter-
ians. 2. What was his opinion anent toleration?
He answered confidently, that he was altogether
against toleration; which pleased, if possible, still
better. 3. What was his opinion concerning the
government of the church? "Oh, now," said Crom-
well, "Mr. Blair, you article me too severely; you
must pardon me that I give you not a present answer
to this." When the deputation left him Mr. IJavid
Dickson said to Mr. Blair, "I am glad to hear this
man speak no worse;" to which the latter replied,
"If you knew hiin as well as I, you would not believe
a word he says, for he is an egregious dissembler."

Blair continued to be a zealous and useful minister
during the usur])ation of Cromwell, but after the
restoration fell speedily under the censure of his
metropolitan. Archbishop Sharpe. For some years
he had no regular jilace of worship, but preached
and ministered when he met with a favourable
o]-)portunity. During his later years, being i)ro-
hil)ite(l from coming within twenty miles of ,St.
.\ndrev.s, he lived at Meikle Couston, in the parish
of .Vberdour, where he died, August 27, 1666, in the
73*1 >ear of his age. He was buried in the church-
yard of .'\l)erdour, where there is a small tablet to
his niemorv.

Robert iilair was the author of a Commentary on
the ]>ook of J^ro7Yrt>x, and also of some political
pieces, none of which have come down to modern
limes. His abilities were singularly revived in more
than one branch of his numerous progeny, jiarticularly
in his grandson, the author of 'J'/n- Grarr, and his
two great-grandsons, Dr. Hugh P.lair, and Roljcrt
Iilair, ])resident of tlie Court of Session.

BLAIR. Ri)I;kkt, author of 77ie (Jrnrv, a Poem,
was the eldest son of the Rev. David Blair, one of
the ministers of I'.dinljurgh, .and chaplain to the king,
who, in l)i,> turn, was son to the subject (jf the
preceding artiele. Tile mother of the author of

SIR GILBERT BLANE.

151

The Gra'iC was a Miss Nisbet, daughter of Mr.
Nisbet of Carfin. Ho was bom in the year 1699,
and after the usual preparatory studies, was ordained,
in 1731, minister of Athelstaneford, in East Lothian,
where lie spent the remainder of his life. Possessing
a small f.)rtune in addition to his stipend as a parish
clergyman, he lived, we are told, rather in the style
of a country gentleman than of a minister, keeping
company with the neighbouring gentry, among whom
Sir Francis Kinloch of Gilmerton, patron of the
parish, was one of his warmest friends. Blair, we
are furtiier informed, was at once a man of learning
and of elegant taste and manners. He was a bo-
tanist and florist, which he showed in the cultivation
of his garden; and was also conversant in optical and
microscopical kfiowledge, on which subjects he
carried on a correspondence with some learned men
in England. He was a man of sincere piety, and
very assiduous in discharging tlie duties of his clerical
functions. Asa preacher, he was serious and warm,
and discovered the imagination of a ])oct. He
married Miss Isabella Law, daughter of !VIr. Law of
Livingston, who had been professor of moral philo-
sophy in the university of Edinburgli; by this lady,
who survived him, he had five sons and one daughter.
His fourth son, who bore his own name, arose,
tlirough various gradations of honour at the Scottish
bar, to be president of tlie Court of Session.

Blair had turned his tiioughts, at an early period
of life, to poetry. While still ver)- young, he wrote
some verses to the memory of his future falhcr-in-law,
Mr. Law, who was also his blood-relation. We
have his own testimony for saying, that his Grave
was chiefly composed in that period of his life which
preceded his ordination as a parochial clergyman.
An original manuscript of the poem, in the pos-
session of his son the lord-president, was dated
1 74 1 -2; and it appears, from a letter written by the
author to JJr. Doddridge, in Feljruary that year,
tliat he had just been endeavouring, through the
influence of his correspondent. Dr. Isaac Watts, to
induce the London booksellers to pul;lish it. It was
rejected by two of these patrons of literature, to
whom it had been recommended by Dr. Watts; but
was finally printed at London, in 1743, "for Mr.
Cooper." The author appears to have been seriously
anxious that it should become a popular work, for
he thus writes to Dr. Doddridge: — "In order to
make it more generally liked, I was obliged some-
times to go cross to my own inclination, well know-
ing that, whatever poem is written upon a serious
argument must, upon that very account, be under
sorious disadvantages ; and therefore proper arts
nuist l)e used to make such a piece go down with a
licentious age, whicli cares for none of those things."
Tliis is not very clearly intelligible, but, perhaps,
allmle^ to the i)lain, strong, rational, and often col-
loquially familiar language of the poem, which the
jtlurality of modern critics will allow to be its best
feature. The Grave is now to be esteemed as one of
tlie stanilard classics of Lnglish poetical literature, in
which rank it will iirobably remain longer than many
works of greater contemporary, or even present, fame.

BLANE, Sir Ciir.r.KT, M.D., of Rlancfield,
Ayrsliire, aiiil t'ulverl.inils, Berk>hire, Bart. This
eminent jihysician wa-> the fourth son of Gilbert
Blane of lUanetield, in the county of .\yr, and was
born at that place A.n. 1749. ISeing destined by his
parents for the church, he was sent at an early age
to tiie university of Lilinburgh; Init in conseriucnce
of certain religious scruples, he abandmied the pur-
pose of studying fir tlie ministry, an<l turnetl his
thoughts to the medical profession, for which he soon

found that he had a peculiar vocation. His re-
markable diligence and proficiency in the different
departments of medical science secured the notice
not only (jf his class-fellows, but the professors, so
that on graduating as a j^hysician, he was recom-
mended by Dr. Cullen to Dr. William Hunter, at
that time of high celebrity in London, both as phy-
sician and teacher of anatomy, who soon leanied to
estimate the talents and worth of his young froie^e.
He therefore introduced Dr. Blane to the notice of
Lord Iloldernesse, whose jirivate i)hysician he s<jon
became, and he was afterwards a])])ointed to the
same office to Lord Rodney. This tiansiti<;n from the
service of a peaceful statesman to that of an active
naval hero, introduced the Doctor to a wider sphere
of medical practice, but to one also of greater danger
and trial. When Lord Rodney, in 17S0, as.-umed
the command of the West India station, Blane
accompanied him, and was present in six naval
engagements, in the very first of which he found
himself compelled to forego his professional jjrivilege
of being a non-combatant. This was in consecpience
of every officer on deck being killed, wounded, or
otherwise employed, so that none remained but him-
self who could be intrusted with the admiral's orders
to the officers serving at the guns. This hazardous
employment he cheerfully undertook and ably dis-
chai-ged, receiving a slight wound in its performance.
His conduct on this occasion was so gratifying
to his lordship, that, at his recommendation, he was
at once raised to the important oflfice of physician
to the fleet, without undergoing the subordinate
grades. On this station, where disease is so pre-
valent among our seamen, he was unremitting in
his attention to the health of the shiiss' crews, and
the success of his efforts was felt by the whole fleet.
During this period, also, he found a short inter\al
for gratifying those literary tastes which he had
cultivated at college; and his account of the impor-
tant naval engagement of the 12th of -•\])ril, 1782,
which he sent to Lord Stair, was so distinct and
so animated, that it soon found its way into print.
This victor}-, indeed, which Lord Rodney obtained
over Count de Grasse off Guadeloupe, was of itself
well worthy of admiration; for it not only saved
Jamaica, ruined the allied fleet of our enemies in
that quarter, and restored the suineniacy of the
British flag, but was the first great trial of the ex-
periment of breaknig the line which Nelson after-
wards so successfully adopted. Soon after his
return from the West India station, wliich he left
in 17S3, Dr. Blane published in London a work
entitled Ohsen^atioits on the Diseases of .Seariien, in
one volume Svo. It contained the results of his
own careful experience, and the conclusions he had
drawn from the metlical returns of the surgeons
of the fleet, and abounded with so much sound and
practical wisdom upon that important sul)ject, tlir.t
it soon became a standard work, and was repeats :!y
reprinted with additional improvements. t>n b.is
return, it was fountl that he was precluded from
half-]iay, on account of his appointment having heen
made without his having jia.-sed the interniciiate
stcjis of service. But a still more honour."d'k- re-
(juital awaitetl his labours; for, in con>cquer,ce < t a
ioint ajijilication friim all the olticers "U tlie \\ e~t
India station to the Admiralty, Dr. Bir.ne v..-.- re-
warded by a pension from tlie crowii. v. Li^Ii wa-.
afterwards' doubled at tlic sugge-;:<'n ot' tlic I. in:-
(jf the Admiralty. Kven thi>, loo, w.v- i. t the full
amount of benefit which he oweii to the esteem ot
his fellow-ofucei-.-; !■ -r one ^'\ tiie.-e. a r.ii.;>hipiiian
of Rodnev's tleet- but wlio wa- 11 > ie-> a ] er-^n
than the r)uke of Clarence, afteiw.^:.;^ Wf.Iiara I\".

SIR GILBERT BLA\E.

— obtained for him the appointment of physician
extraordinary to the Prince of Wales, in 17S5; he
was also, chiefly throuyii the ]iopular influence of
Lord Rodney, elected physician to St. Thomas's
Hospital. About the same time, also, he was
appointed one of the commissioners of sick and
wounded sailors. As he was now on shore, and
in prosperous circumstances, he soui;ht a permanent
and comfortalile home by marriaj^e, and on tiie
llth July, 17S6, was united to Elizabeth, only
daughter of Abraham Cianiner, merchant. By this
lady, who shareil with him the honours anil comforts
of a long life, antl whose death jircceded his own
by only two years, he was the father of six sons and
three ilaughters. Having about the time of his
marriage been elected a fellow of the Royal .Society,
he was appointed, in 17SS, to deliver the Croonian
lecture of that year, a duty which he performed with
signal ability, having chosen Musiular Motion for
his subject, and illu>trated it with great extent of
mformalion, as well as much jirofound and original
thinking. The es>ay w;vs ]inl)li>hed in I "91, and
afterwards re|>ublished in his Srhrl Dissertations,
in 1S22 anil 1S34. In 1790 an es--ay of his on the
"N'ardus or .Sjiikenanl of the .\ncients." was also
jiublished in the 80th volume of the 'J'ransactions of
the Ni'v.i! Socn-ty.

-More important, however, than all these appoint-
ments that were successively conferred ujion Dr.
Blane, was that of being placed at the head of the
navy metlical board, which occurred in 1795. ^^
w.as here that he had full scope and exercise for his
talents, philanthropy, and nautical experience as a
j>hysician. In jiroportion as the em])ire of Britain
was extended, the number and length of voyages
were increased, so that the draught upon our island
]K)pulation for the royal and merchant service was
every year becoming greater. But a still more
serious danger than any thnl arose from storm or
battle, was that which originated in scurvv, the
ocean-pestilence, from which there had hitherto
been no ]>rotection, exce])t at the expense of a long
delay by recruiting on a frien<!ly >hore. The causes
of this disease were the cold .uid unhealthy atmos-
phere on shi[)-board, owing to defective ship-build-
ing, the sand used fir bal!a>t, the unwholesome
miasma of the bilge-water, and the imperfect means
of washing and ventilating the vessel. But these
were trivial compared with the diet of our sailors,
which, on long voyage^, con^i-.tcd merely of salted
meat and biscuit. The detective nourishment and
excessive slimuhu of this kind of f njd made the
>curvy still prevalent in our tleet^. notwithstanding
the improvements by whicli the <Jtlicr causes were
counteracted; and the ]ioiiit and limit seemed to
have been already attained, beyuiifj \vhieh the British
n.ag could not be carried. "Th- cure s'.-ems im-
possible by any remedy, or by any management
that can be employed,'' -a_\s the historian of Anson's
voyage despairingly, when he 'lescrilie^ the con(iiti<in
of the connno lore's crew on his arri\al at Juan
Kernan<ie/, where, after a l.)~, of f nir-fifili-, o"t hi.,
sailor-, he had, out of the 2CX) --urviv.ir-, only eiylit
who were capable of »lutv. It \va- lo r^ h ,t uut, or
at least to diminish this rji-ea-e, and biiig it uiuler
projier man.igement, that l)r. I!!a:ie now aiMrosed
hini-elf; and in this humane and ]>atriotii- purpose
he was ably seconded by ICarl Spencer, at that tmu-
tir-t lord of the Admiralty. The doctor well kmw
that the only antiscorbutics available for the pn/veii-
tion or cure f)f sea-scurvy are those vegetalihs in
whicli acid prclominates; ami that of all fruit-, thi-
genus Citrus is most effective. Here, then, was the
remedy; and since the fruit could not be carried

fresh during a long voyage, the preserved juice
might be used as a substitute. Such was the cure
he suggested, and, through the influence of Earl
Spencer, it was immediately introduced throughout
the whole British navy. Several gallons of lemon
juice, having a tenth part of spirit of wine, to j^re-
serve it, was supplied to each ship; and in a fort-
night after leaving the port the use of it began, each
sailor being allowed one ounce of it, with an ounce
and a half of sugar, to mix with his grog or wine.
The immense advantages of an innovation apparently
so very simple — and therefore so very difficult to be
discovered — were quickly apjiarent. In the statistics
of our navy we find, that during nine years of con-
secutive warfare, from 177S to 1795, the number of
men voted for the service by parliai'nent was 745,cxX),
of whom 189,730 were sent sick on shore, or to the
hospitals. Ikit during the nine following years of
consecutive warfare, that is to say, from 1796, when
the use of lime-juice was introduced into the navy,
till 1806, during which period 1,053,076 men were
voted for sea-service, of these the sick amounted
to no more than 123,949. The amount of disease
had thus diminished by one-half, because scurvy had
almost wholly disappeared; and our fleets, instead
of being utterly drained of their seamen, as would
have been the case under the former ratio, were
enabled for twenty years to go onward in a career
of victory unchecked, and rejmir their losses as fast
as they occurred. And the merchant service, too,
from which these victories derive their value, has
been equally benefited by the remedy of Dr. Blane,
so that its vessels may traverse every sea in safety,
and return after the longest voyages with a healthy
and happy crew; while a spectacle such as had been
seen more than once — like that of the Orijiainma,
for instance, where the whole crew had died, and
the deck was piled with the coqises, while not a
hand was left to guide her course as she slowly drifted
before the wind — would be reckoned as impossible
as a realization of the tale of the Ancient JMarincr.

The famine which prevailed over the whole of
Britain during the years 1799 and iSoo was too
severe to be easily forgotten by the present genera-
tion; and, with the view of directing attention to its
alleviation, as well as pre\enting its recurrence. Dr.
Blane published in 1800 an Imjiiiry into tlie Cansts
and Rc/nedii's of the Late and Present Scarcity atid
High Price of Proz'isions; 'with 0/'ser7'ations on the
Distresses of Agriciiltnrc and Covnnerce I'.'liicJi have
prr^'ailed for the last Phrce Years. As he had now
attained a high medical reputation, and enjoyed an
extensive private practice in addition to his public
duties, he resigned the office of physician to St.
Thomas's Hosi)ital, after having held it twenty years.
The fruits of his observations during that jK-riod he
gave to the world in a dissertation "On the Com-
parative I'revalenceand Mortalityof different Diseases
in London," which was first ])ublished in the 'Prans-
artions of the A/cdico-Chirnrgical Society, and after-
wards emljodied in his Select J)issertations. Tlie
uiihapj)y Walcheren ex])e(iition was one of the last
public servic(/s on which Blane was employed.
That island of fogs, swanips, and ])(jstilenlial vajiour-
had loomed so alluringly in the eyes of our states-
men, that nothing short of its ])ossession would
satisfy them, and one of the largest armaments that
had ever left a British ]iort, convening 40,000
-oldiers, was sent to achieve its ccmquest. It was
-oon won and occu))ied; but our troops found, on
t-ntering into posse-sion, that a deadlier enemy than
any that brance could furnish was arrayed against
them to (li-pute their footing; so that, inde])endenlly
of the fearlul amount of mortality, 10,000 bra\e

SIR GILBERT BLANE

soldiers were soon upon the sick list. As for the
disease, too, which iiroduced such havoc, although
it was sometimes called fever, and sometimes ague,
neither its nature, causes, nor cure, could be satis-
factorily ascertained. All this, however, it was ne-
cessary to detect, if our hold was to be continued
upon Waicheren; and the chief medical officers of
tlie army were ordered to repair in person to the
island, and there hold an inquest upon the malady,
with a view to its removal. But no medical Curtius
could be found to throw himself into such a gulf:
the surgeon-general of the army declared that the
case was not surgical, and ought therefore to be
superintended by the physician-general; while the
latter as stoutly argued, that the duty indisputably
belonged not to him, but to the inspector-general
of army hospitals. In this way an office reckoned
tantamount to a death-warrant, from the danger of
infection which it involved, was bandied to and fro,
while the unfortunate patients were daily sickening
and dying by the hundred. One man, however,
fully competent for the task, and whose services on
such an occasion were completely gratuitous, departed
upon the ]:)erilous mission. This was Dr. Blane,
who, as belonging to a different department, had no
such obligations as his army bretiiren, but who,
nevertheless, undertook the obnoxious duty in 1809,
while the disease was most prevalent. It is per-
haps unneccessary to add, that the Britisli soon
after abandoned their possession of Waicheren.

Another pul)lic service on whicli Dr. Blane was
employed in the following year (1810), was to visit
Northlleet, and report on the expediency of estab-
lishing a dockyard and naval arsenal there. This
terminated iiis public official labours, which were so
highly valued that in 1812 he was raised to the rank
of baronet, and appointed in the same year phy-
sician-in-ordinary to the prince regent. In 1S19
he reappeared as an author, by the publication of
EUmcnts of Medical Logic, the most useful of his
writings, and one so highly prized that, in the course
of a few years, it went through several editions. In
1821, having now for two years lieen past the "three-
score and ten" that constitute the common boundary
of human life, he suffered under tlie effects of old
age in the form of prurigo senilis, for whicli he was
obliged to take such copious doses of opium, that
he became a confirmed opium eater; but this habit,
so fatal in most instances, seems in him to have been
counteracted by the disease which it alleviated, for
he continued to the last in full possession and use
of his intellectual faculties. In 1822 he published
Select Dissertations on ScTcral Subjects of ^Medical
Science, most of which had previously appeared in
the form of separate papers in the most important
of our medical periodicals. In 1826 he was elected
a member of the Institute of France. Although a
long period of peace had now occurred, his zeal for
the welfirc of the navy still continued. This he had
first manifested on his being placed at the head of
the navy medical board, when he caused regular
returns or journals of the state of health and disease
to be kept by every surgeon in the service, and for-
warded to the navy board, from which returns he
drew up tho>e d:s>ertaiioiis that were read before
the Medico-Chirurgieal Society, and published in its
Tra/isacticns. lUu anxious still more etlectuallv to
promote emulation and reward merit in the medical
tlepartment of the l!riti>h naval service, he founded
in 1S29, with the sanction of the lords of the .\d-
miralty, a prize meilal lor tlie be>t journal kept by
the surgeons of lii> Majesty's navy. This medal is
awarded every second year, the commissioners select-
ing four of the best journals for competition. On

HECTOR BOECE.

H3

the accession of William IV. to the throne in 1830,
the sovereign was not forgetful of his old shipmate,
and Sir Ciilbert was appointed first physician to the
king. Fully rewarded with wealth and honours,
and laden with years, Sir Gilbert Blane could now
retire gracefully from the scene of public life, and
leave his ])lace to be filled by younger men; and this
he did in a manner that was consistent with his
previous career. '1 he whole island was filled with
consternation at the coming of the cholera, and the
havoc which it wrought wherever it ap|)eared, upon
which he published a jjamjihlet in 1831, entitled
IVarniug to the British Public against the Alarming
Approach of the Indian Cholera. After this he
retreated, at the age of eighty-two, into jieaceful
retirement, where he solaced his leisure hcnirs in
revising and preparing for j^iublication the second
^(S\\\oTioi\(vi Select Dissertations , which issued from the
press before he died. His death occurred on the
26th of June, 1834, in the eighty-fifth year of his age.

BOECE, IIiXTOR, whose name was otherwise
spelled Boyis, Boyes, Boiss, and Boice, r.n eminent,
though credulous historian, was bom about the year
1465-6 at Dundee, and hence he assumed the sur-
name of Deidonanus. His family were possessed of
the estate of Panbride, or Balbride, in the county of
Angus, which had been acquired by his grandfather,
Hugh Boece, along with the heiress in marriage, in
consequence of his senices to David II. at the
battle of Dupplin. The rudiments of his education
he received in his native town, which at that time,
and for a long time after, was celebrated for its
schools: he afterwards studied at Aberdeen, and
finally at Paris,- where, in 1497, he became a pro-
fessor of philosophy in the college of Montacute.
Of a number of the years of his life about this period
there is evidently nothing to be told. The garrulous
and sometimes fabling Dr. Mackenzie has filled up
this part of his life with an account of his fellow-
students at Paris — all of whose names, with one
exception, have sunk into oblivion. That exception
is the venerated name of Erasmus, who, as a mark
of affection for Boece, dedicated to him a catalogue
of his works, and maintained with him in after-life
as regular a correspondence as the imperfect com-
munication of those times would permit. In the
year 1500 Bishop Elphinstone, who liad just founded
the college of Aberdeen, invited ISoece home to be
the ]5rincipal. The learned professor, reluctant tii
quit the learned society he enjoyed at Paris, was
only persuaded to accept this invitation, as he in-
forms us himself, "by means of gifts and prcmiises;'"
the principal inducement must of course liave been
the salary, which amounted to forty inerk> a year —
ec[ual to two pounds three shillings ami fourpence
sterling — a sum, however, which Dr. Johnson re-
marks, was then probablx- e([ual, not only t<i the
needs, but to the rank of the president ^A King s
College.

On his arrival at Aberdeen he found, among the
chanons regular, a great many karunl nxii. and
became a member of their order. l";ii!n ;!i> ii'-er.
indeed, the professors seem to lia\e been. M-lectei.
As colleague in his neN\' ottice. Hector r..ii.ce .-;--■'-
ciated with himself Mr. William ll.n, a gi irikn-.r:;
of the shire of Angus, who h.ad -f.: ;:■. '; c.'-r..; \\/.l!
him under the same nia-ter.-- l>M;h .it Dvw.'ite av.a
Paris. Alexander Hay. a clian.on of Ai •- : ■ ircn. wr.>
the first teacher of >chob-tic ihe-il-^'v ;:; \\.:.\ un;\er-
sitv. David (iulhry and jan-.e- < '.^'liv} .ivr n-.ditii.ncil
as professors of civi'l and can.'i! law; i-i;; wluilier they
were eonteni]iorary uacliei- "T >uc^i,e ;r i l.-cI. oilier
in the same chair, is r.i^t incite c.car. Henry ."^•'ilal

154

HECTOR BOECE.

was the first who taught philosophy at Aberdeen,
and for this purj^ose he wrote An Easy Introduction to
thi Philosophy of Aristoth\ Another of the learned
professors was Alexander Galloway, rector of Kinkell,
who was author of a treatise on the .tlnulae or Western
Isles, with an account of the Clai;, or Claik Gasc, and
the trees upon which they were found to grow; a work
no longer to be found, but the best parts of which are
probaljly embodied in lioece's Jltstory of SiOtlaud.
Arthur Hoece, brother to the princijx-il, was also one
<.*{ his aNsi>tants. He was a tutor of the canon law,
and a licentiate in the civil; a man of great eloquence
and singular erudition. Besides these, Boece has
commemorated several others, who were his assist-
ants, and retlected lustre upi>n the dawn of learning
in the north. Some of them were, accortling to the
learned principal's account, men of high eminence,
whose inlluence was great in the days in wiiicli they
lived, and whose example extended even to after-
ages. He particularly refers to John Adam, who
was the first to receive the degree of Doctor of
Theology in the university; after wiiich he was made
princijnil of the Dominican order, wliicii, from tlie
vicious lives, the poverty and the ignorance of its
meml)ers, hatl sunk into great contempt, but which
he rai>ed into high respectability, both for piety and
learning. On the death of his patron, Bishoj) Eiphin-
stone, in 1 5 14, Boece, out of gratitude for his friend-
>hip and respect for his great learning and exemplary
virtue, resolved to give to the world an acc<juiit of
his life, in comjiosing which he was so struck with
the exeuiplary conduct of others who had filled that
see, that he determined to write tlie history of the
lives of the whole of the bishops of Aberdeen. This
laborious undertaking he completed in Latin, after
the cu>tom of the age, and gave to the world in the
year 1522. It was printed at Paris by Badius
Ascen>ius.

His next, and by far his greatest work, was a
History of Scotland, from the earliest accounts. To
tiiis Work he was ])robab!y stimulated by the exam]3le
of John Mair or .Slajor, a tutor of the .Sorbonne, and
princi;)al of the college of .St. .Salvadore at .St.
Andrews, whose I/:^tory of Scotland, in six books,
was ])ublishcd at I'aris in the year 1521. The
Scotichronicon lia<l been originally written by John
I-'ordun. a canon of .Vberdeen, and continued by
Walter Howcr or Bowmaker to the death of James
I., ne.irly a century previous to this, as had also the
nietric.d C /ircnykil ni Scotland by .Andrew Winton,
]-rior c)f l.othleven, but all of them written in a style
beneatli t!ie dignity of lii>tory, and disguised by the
mo>t c mtcniptiljle fables. Slair was more studious
ol truth, l)Ut his narrative i> meagre and liis st\le
loo-,e and di-joinlud. iJoccc wn-^ a man of higji
talent, and one of the be>t Latin .-cholars wliich liis
country ha> at any ])eriod prorhiced; but he was
crjdid I'l- in a high degree, ami mo>t vni'|uestiouably
has given his authority, such as it un>, to many
fable.s, if li-: did not himself a!)-oIntely invent tliein;
and he has rested the trutli of his facts upon authors
that never existed except in his own imagination.
Of the hi^lis /vis, which I'uchanan complains had
cost him so much troulile to purge out of t!ie Story
cfScotliind, perhaps lie had not jireserved the grrate^t
number, but he certainly had more of the Scotlis
: initic than even that great man was willing to j.art
with, hi imitation of some other liistori.iiis Ik- Ikis
introduced liis history with the cosmography of tlie
country, in which he lias been f illowed by nuchanan.
Some ]>assnges we have selected from this ]iart of
the work, illustrative of his tnste (or, and his knou--
ledge of, natural history. Tlie extracts aic tak' 11
from tiie translation of John Bellenden, archdeaon |

of Murray, which was made for the benefit of King
James V., who, from a defective education, was
unable to read the original. That they may afford
the reader a genuine specimen of our ancient Scottish
prose, we have given these few extracts in their
original orthography. The first is the result of the
incpiiries of Hector ]5oece into the claicks or clag-
geese that were supposed to grow upon trees.

".Sum men belevis that thir claiks grows on treis
by the nobbis, bot thair opinion is vane. And
because the nature and procreation of thir claikis is
strange, we have maid na little laubore and diligence
to sercli the truth and veritie thairof. We have
sailit throw the seis quhare they ar brede, and find
by grit experience that the nature of the seis is maire
relevant cause of their procreation than ony other
thyng; for all treis that are cussen in the seis be
process of tyme apperis first woiTne ctin, and in the
small hollis and boris thairof growis small womiis.
First they schaw thair heid and feit, and last of all
they schaw thair plumis and wingis. Finally,
()uhen they are cumin 10 the just measure and quan-
tilie of geis, they tie in the aire as othir fowlis.
Thairfore because the rude and ignorant jicpyll saw
oftymes the fruitis that fell off the treis quhilk stude
nair the see, cou'ertit within short tyme in geis,
they belevit that thir geis grew upon the treis hing-
ancl be thair nobbis, sic like as apillis and uthir
fruitis, bot thair opinion is nocht to be sustainit."
This absurd nonsense is by the vulgar in ^ome places
believed to this day. The barnacle has somewhat
the appearance of a fowd in miniature inclosed in a
shell, and this they suppose to be the young of the
claik-goose. The following will not appear less
wonderful to the greater part of readers than the
]-)rocreation of the claiks. "The wolffis ar richt
noysum to the tame bestial in all pairls of .Scotland,
except anepairt thairof, named Glenmore; in quhilk
the tame bestial gets lytill damage of wyld bestial,
especially of toddis. For ilk hous nurises ane young
todd certane days, and mengis the fleshe thairof
after it be slane, with sic meil as they gif to thair
fowlis or uthir small beistis, and sae mony as cits of
this meit ar preservit twa months after fra (jiiy damage
be the toddis, for toddis will gust na lleshe that
gusts of thair ain kynd; and be thair bot ane beist
or fowl that has nocht gustit of this meil the tocUl
A\il! chais it out amaiig ane thousand."

Could the following art be rediscovered it would
be a great saving in the article barley, and would
besides render the malt-duty of non-effect. "In all the
desertis and muires of this realme growis an hcrbe
naniit hadder, bot [without] ony seid, richt nutritive
baith to beistis nnd fowlis, speciallie to beis. This
herbe, in the month of Julie, has ane floure of jmr-
]iure hew, ais sweet as honey. The Pychts maid of
this herbe sum tyme ane richt delicious and halsume
drynk, noehtheless the nianier of the making of it is
]ieri.st be the extermination of the said I'ychtis, for
liiey schaw iievir the craft of the making of this drink
bot to tiiair awn lihide."

Of the miraculous tlie two following arc tolerable
specimens. "In Orkney is ane grit fische, mair
tiian onie hors, of marvelous and incredible sleip.
This fische, whan she begins to sleiji, fesnis hir tcilh
fast on ane crag abave the water. Als soon as the
niarineris fynis liir on slei]), they come witli ane staik
c:d)ill in ane boat, and efter tliey have l.'orit ane hole
tliiew l,ir tail, they fesne hir t(; the sniiiyn. Als
soon as tliis fische is awalknit, she niaks her to louj)
with L;rit fare into the see, ami fra she fynd hirseff
l,i-.t slie wr_\this iiir out of her awn skin and deis.
< 'I tile fatnr-,s that sclio lies is maid oulie in grit
qvianlilie, and of hir skin is maid Strang cai)ills."

HECTOR BOECE

DAVID BOG UK

155

"In Murrayland, in the kirke of Pette, the bains
of lytill John remains in grit admiration of the
pepiil. He has been fourteen feit of hight, with
square members effeiring thairto. Sax yeirs afore
the cumin of this werk to hght, we saw his hansh
bain ais meikle as the haill bain of ane man, for we
shut our arm in the mouth thairof, byquhilk appeirs
how Strang and square pepiil grew in our region
afore they war effeminat with lust and intemperance
of moutii."

I'erliaps, after all, the last paragraph of Boece's
Cosmo-^raphy of Scotland might have been sufficient
to attest his character: "Thus it were needful to put
an end to our cosmographie, were not an uncouth
lii-tory tarryis a litill my pen. Mr. Jame Ogilby,
witli uther nobylmen, wes send as ambassalouris
frae the maist nobiil prince King James the feird to
the Kyng of France, and be tempest of see they war
constrainit to land in Norway, quhare they saw
nocht far fra thaim mony wild men nakit and nich,
on the sam maner as they war painted. At last
they got advertising bylandwart pepiil that they war
doum beestis under the figur of men, quha in tyme
of nicht usit to come in grit companies to landwart
villages, and quhan they fand na doggis they brek
uj) doris, and slays all the pepiil that they fynd thair
iniiil. They are of sa huge strenth that they pull
up treis by the rutis and fechts thairwith amang
thaimself The ambassalouris war astonist at thir
munstouris, and made strick watches with grit fyres
birnand all nicht, and on the morrow they pullit uj)
sails and depairtit. Forthcr, the Norway men schow
that there wes also nocht far fra thaim an pepiil that
swomit all the symcr, like fische in the see, leifand
on tische, bot in the winter, because the water is
cauKl, they leif upon wild beistis that descendis fra
the mnuntainis, and sa endis here the Cosnur^raphy
of Scotland.'''' Such are specimens of what passed
for veritable history in Scotland scarcely three
centuries ago, and such was the weakness of a man
who was certainly in his own day, even by foreigners,
reckoned an ornament to his country. The tnith is,
knowledge in those days was most deplorably limited
by the difficulty of travelling, and the jwucity of
books. A geographical writer sat in his study,
ignorant personally of everything except what was
immediately around him, and liable to be imposeil
ujion by the stories of credulous or lying travellers,
which he had no means of correcting or disjiroving.
Thj jihilosophical writer was equally lial)le to be
imposed upon by false and superstitious systems,
which the age proiluced in great abundance.

linece's history was published at Paris in 1526, in
a f ilio volume, under the title of Scotoriim I/istorlc,
,: Pyniia (.Icittis Ori^tnc, cum Alianun ct Kcriiin ct
Ccutui-.Ji Illiistratioiu- iion I'ltli^iiri. This edition,
which was jirinted by Badius, contains seventeen
1) )ok^. A second was printed at Lausanne, and
])ub!ished at I'aris in 1574, about forty years after
the death of I'occe. In this were added the
eightcL'iuh a:id part of a nineteenth book, written
by himself; and a continuation of the history to the
end of the reign of James III., by Ferrarius, a
learned I'iedmontese, who came to Scotland in
152S, in the ir.iin of Robert Keid, al>bot of Kinloss.
and afterwards IJishop of ()rkncy.

Soon after the jHthlication of his history (1527).
James \'. bestcuved u])on lioece a ]-)eiisi(5n of £^0
.Scots yearly, which was to l)e jiaid by the sheriff
of .Aberdeen out of the kin,:;'s casualties. Two years
afterwards a new precept was issued, directing this
]iension to be jiaid by the customers of .-\berdeen.
until the king should promote him to a benefice of
100 merks Scots uf yearly value. By a subsequent

regulation, the pension was partly paid by the king's
comptroller, and partly by the treasurer.

As the payment ap]>ears for the last time in the
treasurer's l>ooks for 1534, it is probable that about
that time the king carried into effect his intention of
exchanging the pension for a benefice. The benefice
so given was the rectory of Fyvie in Aberdeenshire,
which Boece held at his death in 1536, as appears
from the record of the jjresentation of his succes.sor.
According to Gordon of Straloch, the death of the
reverend historian hajipened at Aberdeen; he was
then about seventy years of age.

In estimating the character of Hector Boecc,
many circumstances must be taken into acc(junt.
It is certainly impossible to read his history without
feeling contempt for his understanding as well as
for his veracity; yet when we consider the night of
ignorance, imbecility, and error in which he lived,
contempt gives place to strong compassi<jn, and we
feel disposed to apologize for, rather than to blame
him. Lord Hailes has Ijitterly remarked that the
Scots were reformed from Popery, but not from
Boece, and Pinkerton inveighs against him as "the
most egregious historical impostor that ever appeared
in any country!" It is enough, however, for the
vindication of this elegant writer, that he fulfilled
all the duties that could be demanded from a his-
torian in his own time, and could not be expected,
to use a more just expression of Dalrynq)le, to be a
philoso])her before philosophy revived. That he
was incapable of designed imposture, appears in-
contestably proved by the testimonies of his contem-
poraries; Erasmus in particular styling him a man
who "knew not what it was to make a lie.'

The highest honours have been bestowed upon
the learning and genius of Boece, by the most dis-
tinguished men of his own and the subsccpient age,
among whom it is enough to mention Paul Jovius,
Joannes Gualtcrius, Bishop Lesly, Arclibishop
.Spotswood, and Buchanan. Bartholomew Lato-
mas, a well-known annotator on Cicero, Terence,
and Horace, honoured his memoiy by a beautiful
Latin epitaph, of which the following English trans-
lation will give some faint idea : —

"'I'li.Tt in this tomb the nevcr-faiiing Iij;ht
Streams Ijright fr'.im tilazint; torches uncon^unied.
Art thou ain.azed. and would'st thou read aright'.'
Hector Ijoethius. know. Ues here inhumed.
He who his country's hills and vales illumed
W'itli all the lustre of the Latian lore.
Chasing the shades of darkness deep, f _ire-d-)om'J,
]!ey"nd the freezing pole and Thule's sh'.re.
F'lr this adorn'd, graceful in Roman dress,
Deserved thanks the .Scutian Muses pay
To him who gave tliem life — decreeing thus
Upon his tomb unfading light shall pl.iy.
Krom torches burning bright, that ne'er shall know uecav."

BOGUE, David, the father, as he has been i
of th.e London .Missionary .'Society, \\.is ii.
Hallvdown in the ])ar;sl\ of Coldingham, Be
shire, on the iSth Febaiary. 1750. His tatb.ei
farmed his own estate, was descended of a re~; c
family which had Ix-en long settled in tb.e C'
His studies are said to have Ijcen carried
Dunse uiuler the suiierintendencc ot the distir..,"
Cruikshanks, not less remembered I'^r tb.e s'.ici
his tuition, than f)r the si'verity i>t hi- di-i:
He afterwards removed to the univeisiiy o:
burgh, and studie<l moral j^hilo-ojhy r.r.i-.r
Ferguson, the well-kr.>wn autli'.r ' ■'. the //. .
Cnd Society. After uivier- 'ii^ '\'--- c.-wr-A c-i
study, and lieing licen-ci a- a i :e.'.L:i; r ;:; c::.
with'tb.e Churcii of >ei .'.la;!' !. fr ::. v..-,:.t. jier:;;
very tlnltering pr'^-]iect> in 1;;- r.a:;\e C'liP.ti
removed to Luiilai I1771'. a;:': w.is 1-r s' i;-.!

lied.

\:.\m

he

i=;6

DAVID BOGUE THOMAS BOSTON.

employed in the humble, but meritorious, capacity
of usher in an academy at Edmonton, afterwards at
Hampstead, and finally with the Rev. Mr. Smith of
Camberwell, whom he also assisted in the discharge
of his ministerial duties both at Camberwell and at
Silver Street, London, where he hoKl a lectureship,
the duties of which were at one time performed by
the celebrated John Home. The zeal witii which
Mr. Boi;ue discharijed his duties in both of these
capacities, co;Urihuted not less to the satisfaction of
Mr. Smith, than to the increase of liis own pojju-
larity. At lenL;lh, on the resignation of tlie minister
of an Independent chapel at Gosjwrt, Mr. Rogue
was unanimously chosen to fill the vacant charge.
The duties of his new situation were such as to re-
quire all the strength of judgment and uncompromis-
ing intk'xibility, tempered with Christian meekness,
which entereil so largely into his character. The
charge was one of great difliculty, and of jjcculiar
importance. The members of the congregation were
divided among themselves, and jiarl of tliem had
indeed with drawn from the communion altogether,
during the ministry of his predecessor, and lormed
themselves into a se]iarate congregation, under a
rival minister; but the exem]ilary conduct of Mr.
Bogue, and his zeal in the discharge of his duties,
were such, that he liad scarce occupied the pulpit
twelve months when a reunion was effected. His
fame as a solid and sul)>tantial scholar, and an
evangelical and indefatigable minister, now spread
rapidly; and in 17S0 he became tutor to an estab-
lishment for directing the studies of young men
destined for the Christian ministry in connection with
the Independent communion. For the ability with
which this establishment was conducted, both now
and when it afterwards became a similar one for
those destined for missi<:)nary lal)ours, his praise is
indeed in all tlie churches. It was in this ]ieriod,
though occupied with the details of what most men
would have felt as a full occujiation of their time,
that his ever-active mind turned its attention to the
formation of a grand missionary scheme, which after-
wards resulted in the London .Missionary Society.
'I'he influence of this institution was extensive, and
the springing up of tiie Hritisli and Foreign Bit)!e
.S<jciety and the Religious Tract Society at short
intervals, proves how much good was effected l)y the
impetus thus given by one master-mind. In the
establishment of both of these he likewise took an
active l^art, ccjntributing to the latter l)ody the first
of a series of jiublicalions wliich have i)een of great
Usefulness. In tjie year i~')(y Mr. llogue was called
upon to show whether he who had ])r()fessed him-
self such a friend to missionary enterprise, was
sufficiently imbued with the spirit of the gos]x-l to
enable him to fjrsake home and the comforts of
civilized society, to devote himself to its sacred cause.
The call alluded to was made — and it was not maile
in vain -liy Robert Ilaldane, Fsrj., of Airthrie, who,
to furnish funds r)r this grand enterprise, sold his
estate. Their design was, in conjunction with two
other divines, who had recently left the Fstaidished
Church of Scotland and become Indejienilriu min-
isters, to preach the gosjiel to the natives of India,
and likewise to f )rm a seminary for tin: instruction
of fellow-labourers in the same tield. 'I'he names of
the two other ministers were the Rev. fires ille F\\ iiig
of Glasgow, and the Rev. \V. Innes of Fdinliurgli.
But the design was frustrated by the V.a-^l India
(Company, wdio refused their sanction to the under-
taking— a most fortunate circumstance, as it after-
wards a[)jvjared, in as far as the missionaries were
individually concerned; for a massacre of luiropeans
took place at the exact sjiot where it was intended

the mission should have been established, and from
which these Christian labourers could scarcely have
hoped to escape. In 1815 Mr. Bogue received the
diploma of Doctor of Divinity from the senatus
academicus of Yale college, North America.

His zeal for the cause of missions, to which he
consecrated his life, continued to the last: he may
truly he said to have died in the cause. Fie annually
mai'le tours, in different jxirts of the country, in be-
half of the Missionary vSociety; and it was on a
journey of this kind, in which he had been requested
to assist at a meeting of the Su.ssex Auxiliary Society,
that he took ill at the house of the Rev. Mr. Goulty
of Brighton, and, in spite of the best medical advice,
dejiarted this life on the morning of the 25th of
October, 1S25, after a short illness. The effect of
this event upon the various churches and religious
bodies with which Dr. Bogue \vas connected, was
great: no sooner did the intelligence reach London,
than an extraordinary meeting of the Missionary
Society was called (October 26), in wdiich resolutions
were passed expressive of its sense of the bereave-
ment, and of the benefits which the deceased had
conferred upon the society, by the active part he had
taken in its projection and establishment, and subse-
quently "by his piayers, his writings, his example,
his journeys, and, above all, by his direction and
superintendence of the missionary seminary at Gos-
port."

The only works of Dr. Bogue are, ^}n Essay on
tJic Divine AntJiority of the A'c7u Testa7ncnt, Dis-
C0717-SCS on tlic MilUnninvi, and a History of Dissen-
ters, which he undertook in conjunction with his
j)upil and friend Dr. Bennet. The first of these he
commenced at the request of the London Missionary
Society, with the purpose of its being appended to
an edition of the New Testament, -which the society
intended to circulate extensively in France. In con-
sitleration of the wide diffusion of infidelity in that
country, he wisely directed his attention to the evi-
dence required by this class of individuals — address-
ing them always in the language of kindness and
persuasion, "convinced," as he characteristically
remarks, "that the wrath of man worketh not the
righteousness of God," — and if usefulness be taken
as a test of excellence, this work is so in a verj- high
degree. No work of a religious character, if we
except perhaps the l^ilgrini's Progress, has been so
i:)opular: it has been translated into the French,
Italian, German, and Spanish languages, and has
been widely circulated on the Continent of Europe,
where, under the divine blessing, it has been emi-
nently useful. In France, in ]-)articular, and on the
distant shores of America, its influence has been felt
in the convincing and converting of many to the
cause of Christ. It is, in<leed, the most useful of all
his works. Tlie tliscourses on the millennium are
entirely i^ractical and devotional, and though they
^\■ant the straining for effect, and the ingenious
speculations with which some have clothed this
subject, and gained for themselves an ephemeral
])opularity — for to all such trickery Dr. Bogue had a
thorough aversion — they will be found strikingly to
display the enlarged views and sterling gijod sense
of their venerable author.

BOSTON, Thomas, an eminent doctrin.il writer,
was born in the town of Dunse, March 7, 1676, and
received the rudiments of his education at his native
town, fiist under a woman who kei>t a school in
liis father's h(juse, and afterwards under Mr. James
r.ullerwill, who taught what is called the grammar-
school. His father was a nonconformist, and, being
iin[)ris(jned for his recusancy, retaineil the suliject of

THOMAS BOSTON.

157

this memoir in prison along with him, for the sake of
company, whicli, notwitiistanding his youth, seems to
have made a lasting impression on the memory of
young lioston. Wiietijcr the old man was brought
at length to conform, we have not been able to learn;
but during his early years, Mr. Boston informs us
that he was a regular attendant at church, "where
he iicard those of the Episcopal way, that being then
the national establishment." lie was then, as he in-
forms us, living without God in the world, and uncon-
cerned about the state of his soul. Toward the end
of summer, 1687, upon the coming out of King James's
indulgence, his father carried him to a Presbyterian
meeting at Whitsome, where he heard the Rev. Mr.
Ifenry Erskine, who, before the restoration, was
minister of Cornhill, and father to the afterwards
celebrated Messrs. Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine.
It was through the ministrations of this celebrated
preacher that Boston was first brought to think
seriously about the state of his soul, being then going
in the twelfth year of his age. After this he went
back no more to the church till the curates were ex-
pelled. While at the grammar-school he formed an
intimacy with two boys, Thomas Trotter anil Patrick
Gillies, who regularly met with him, at stated times,
in a cliamber of his father's house, for reading the
Scriptures, religious conference, and social prayer,
"whereby," he says, "they had some advantage, both
in point of knowledge and tenderness." Mr. Bixston
made a rapid progress at the school, and before he
loft it, which was in the harvest of 1689, had gone
through all the books commonly taught in such
seminaries, and had even begun the Greek, in which
language he had read part of John's Gospel, Luke,
and the .Vets of the Apostles, though he was then but
in his fiiurteenlh year. After leaving the grammar-
school two years elapsed before he proceeded farther
in his studies, his father being doubtful if he was able
to defray the expense. This led to several attempts at
getting him into a gratuitous course at the university,
none of which had any success. In the meantime
lie was partly employed in the composing and trans-
cribing lawpapers by a Mr. C^ockburn, apublicnotary,
from which he admits that he derived great benefit
in after-life. All his plans for a gratuitous acade-
mical course having failed, and his father having re-
solved to strain every nerve to carry him through the
classes, he entered the university of Edinburgh as
a student of Greek, December i, 1691, and studied
for three successive sessions. I le took out his laurea-
tion in the summer of 1694, when his whole expenses
for fees and maintenance were found to amount to
one hundred and twenty-eight jjounds, fifteen shillings
and eight pence, Scots money, less than ;^II sterling.
That same summer he had the bursary of the iMX-sby-
tery of Dunse conferred on him as a student of theo-
logy, and in the month of January, 1695, entered
the theological class in the college' of I'ldinhurgh.
tlicH taught l)y Mr. George Campliell, "a man."
says H.jstou, "of great learning, but excessively
modest, undervaluing himself, and much valuing the
tolerable iierfonnances of his students." During this
session -the only one Boston appears to have regu-
larly attende 1 in divinity — he also for a time attended
the Hebrew cla-s taught by Mr. Alexander Rule,
but remarks 1h.1t lie f )Uiid no jiarticular advantage
from it. .Vftcr returning from the universitv, >Ir.
Boston had dilTcreiit apijlications made to him, and
made various attempts to settle himself in a school,
but with no good effect; and in the spring of 1696
he accejited of an invitation fr,>!n l.ady Mcrsingtou
to suiieriiitend the education of her grandcliilil.
Andrew I-'letclier of .\l)erlail_\-, a hoy of nine years of
age, whosc lather having died vuU'.ig, his niuther

was married again to Lieutenant-colonel Bruce of
Kennet, in Clackmannanshire. This he was the
rather induced to undertake, Ijecause the boy Ix-ing
in Edinburgh at the high-school, it gave his precep-
tor the ])o\ver of waiting upon the divinity lectures in
the college. In less than a month, however, his
pu])il was taken home to Kennet, whither Boston ac-
coni])anied him, and never had another opjiortunity
of attending the college. In this situation .Mr.
Boston continued for alxnit a year, and during that
period was pressed, once and' again, by the united
presbyteries of Stirling and Dumblane to take license
as a preacher, which, for reasons not very obvious,
he declined. In the month of March, 1697, he re-
turned to Dunse, and by his friend .Mr. Golden,
minister of that place, was induced to enter upon
trials for license before the united presbyteries of
Dunse and Churnside, by which he was licensed as
a probationer in the .Scottish Church, June 15,
1697. In this character Mr. Boston officiated, as
opportunity offered, for two years and three months,
partly within the bounds of his native ])resbytery,
and partly within the bounds of the presbytery of
.Stirling. It was first proposed by his Iriends ol the
presbytery of Dunse to settle him in the parish of
Eoulden, the Episcopal incumbent of which was
recently dead; and, on the first day he officiated
there, he gave a remarkably decisive proof of the
firmness of his principles. 'I'he Episcopal precentor
was, under the protection of the great men of the
jiarish, still continued. Boston had no freedom to
employ him without suitable acknowledgment^,
which, not being clothed with the ministerial char-
acter, he could not take. On the morning, there-
fore, of the first .Sal>bath, he told this official that he
would conduct the psalmody himself, which accord-
ingly he did, and there was nothing said about it.
In the parish of Foulden, however, he could not be
settled without the concurrence of Lord Ross, who
had had a great hand in the enormous oppressions of
the preceding period. A personal appliuition on the
part of the candidate was required by his lordshi]).
and the presbytery were urgent with Boston to make
it, but to this he could not bring his mind, so the
project came to nothing. He was next proj)osed for
the parish of .Vbhey; but this scheme also was frus-
trated ihrougli the deceitfulness of the jirincijial
heritor, who was a minister himself, and found means
to secure the other heritors, through whose intluence
he was inducted by the presbytery to the living,
though the parishioners were reclaiming, and charg-
ing the ]iresbytery with the lilood of their S'.>uls it
they went on with the settlemem. "This," remarks
Boston, "was the ungospel-like way of seilling tluu
even then jirevailed in the case of plaiUmg of
churches — a way which I ever abh<jrre<l." Att^r
these disappointments Mr. Boston removed to h>
farmer situation in Clackmannanshire, where he re-
mained for a twelveniontli. and in that lime wa- j re-
posed for Carnock. f >r Clackmannan, and tor 1 )o.!.i:-.
all of which jiroposal^ were fruitless, and he reluine '.
to" Dunse in the month of Ma\'. 1690.

Mr. P>ostr)n had no sooner returned to liis nr.tive
place than he was ]iropi»ed by his friend Mr. C-l^ien
for the j-'arish of .siniprin, where, atier .1 L;:e.-I i:e,\l
of hesitation on his part, and soine Httle el.:e..nt_ :y
on the part of the jireshytery aii^i the pie.'ple. lu- w..-,
ordained minister, September ::i. K'oo, In .'^.nn rm
he continued eon-eienti"ii~ly ]ier:' 'iin.ing ll-e i.i f.es
of his call:ng till the year 1707. wi.en. I'V -yn.M'.i^;,!
authority, he wa- transported t' ■ 1 .;;r:ek. 11> i'ltro-
duction to his r.ew eliar.;e to-k 1 la^e or. tiie 1st ot
May tl-.at year, the very dny wiien t'^.e uiv.' n l.etween
Scotland .ind England' t.-jk <.lV-ci ; ^n winch accour.l

THOMAS BOSTON.

ha remarks that he had frequent occasion to re-
member it, the spirits of the people of Ettrick bein<j
imbittered on that event against the ministers of tiie
church, whicli was an occasion of much heaviness to
him, though he had never l)een for the union, but
always against it from the ver>- beginning. Sim])rin,
now united to the parish of Swinton, both of which
make a very small parish, contained only a few
families, to whose improvement he was able greatly
to contribute with comparatively little exertion, anil
the whole population seem to have been warmly
attached to him. Ettrick, on the contrary, is a
parish extending nearly ten miles in every direction,
and re(|uired much labour to bring the people to-
gether in public, or to come in contact with them at
their own houses. Several of them, too, were society
men or old dissenters, who had never joineil the
revolution church from what they supposed to be
radical defects in her constitution, as well as from
much that had all along been ofTensive in her general
administration. Of her constitution, perhaps, Mr.
Boston was not the wannest admirer, for he has told
us in his memoirs, that, after ha\'ing studied the
subject of baptism, he had little fondness for national
churches, strictly and properly so called, and of
many parts of her administration he has again and
again ex]iressed decided disapprobation; but he had
an undefined horror at separation, common to the
greater ]\art of the Presbyterians of that ami tlie ])re-
ceding generation, which led him to regard almost
every oilier ecclesiastical evil as trifling, lie was,
liowever, a conscientious and diligent student, and
had already made great j)rogress in the knowledge
of the doctrine of grace, which seems to have been
but imperfectly understood by many very respectable
men of that jieriod. In this he was greatly forwarded
by a little book. The Miii->\nj of Modi-rn Divinity,
which he found by accident in the house of one of
his parishioners in .Simiirin, and which had been
brougiu from England l)y a jierson who had been
a soldier there in the time of tiie civil wars. Of this
book he says, " I found it to come close to the points
I was in quest of, and showed the consistency of
those which I could not reconcile before, so that
I rejoiced in it as a liglit which the Lord had season-
ably struck up to me in my darkness." Tlie works
of Jerome, Zanchius, Liilhcr on the Gauitians, and
r.eza's Confession of Fdith, wliich beseems to have
fallen in with at the saine pcrio<l (tliat is, while he
was yet in .Simprin, about the year 1700), also contri-
buted greatly to the same end, and seems to have given
a cast <jf singularity to his sermons, wliich was higlily
relished, and wliicli rendered them singularly useful
in promoting the growth u{ faith and holiness among
his hearers. In 1702 he took tlu; oath of allegiance
to <^^uecn .\nne. the sense of wliich, he says, he
endeavoured to keep <i\\ his heart, but never after
to(jk an othjr <jalli, whether of a ]iul)iic or jjrivate
nature.

Boston was a member of the fir-t (ienernl Assemlily
held under that queen in the month of Mnixii, 170';,
of whicii, as the person that was supposed to be nio>t
acceptalile to the commissioner, the h.arl of Seafn-ld,
.Mr. Cleorge Meldrum was chosen moderator. Tlie
fleclaration of the intrinsic jiower of tlie church was
the great object of the more faitiiful ]iait of her minis-
ters at tiiis time; but they were told by the leading
party that they already jiosscssed it, and that to make
an act asserting what they ]K)-..e-sed, was only to
waste time. While this very .\ssend)ly, however, \\ a-,
in the midst of a discussion iqion an overture f m-
preventing the marriage of Protestants with l'a|)ists,
the commissioner, rising from his seat, dissolve'! tlie
.Assembly in her majesty's name. "This having

come," Boston remarks, "like a clap of thunder,
there were from all corners of the house protestations
offered against it, and for asserting the intrinsic
power of the church, with which," he adds, "I
joined in: but the moderator, otherwise a most grave
and composed mcin, being in as much confusion as
a schoolboy when beaten, closed with prayer, and
got away together with the clerk, so that nothing
was then got marked. This was one of the heaviest
days," he continues, "that ever I saw, beholding a
vain man trampling under the privileges of Christ's
house, and others crouching under the burden; and
I could not but observe how Providence rebuked
their shifting the act to assert as above said, and
l)artled their design in the choice of the moderator,
never a moderator since the revolution to this day,
so far as I can guess, having been so ill-treated by
a commissioner." This reflection in his private
journal, however, with the exception of an inefficient
speech in his own synod, appears to be all that ever
Boston undertook for the vindication of his church
on this occasion. It does not indeed appear that
his feelings on this subject were either strong or
distinct, as we find him at Ettrick, in the month of
January, 1708, declaring that he had no scruple in
ol)serving a fast appointed by the court, though he
thought it a grievance that arose from the union and
the taking away of the privy council. On this occa-
sion he acknowledges that many of his hearers broke
off and left him, several of whom never returned ; but
he justifies himself from the temper of the people,
who, had he yielded to them in this, would have
dictated to him ever afterwards. This same year
he was again a member of the General Assembly,
where application was made by persons liable to
have the abjuration oath imposed upon them for an
act declaring the judgment of the Assembly regard-
ing it. The Assembly refused to do anything in this
matter; which was regretted Ijy Mr. Boston, and he
states it as a just retrilmtion which brought it to
ministers' own doors in 1712, only four years after-
wards. On this occasion also he was in the Assem-
bly, but whether as a spectator or a member he does
not say. The lawfulness of the oath was in this
Assembly keenly disputed, and Boston failed not to
observe that the principles on which the answers to
the objection were founded wore of such latitude,
that by them any oath might l)e made passable.
They were indeed neither more nor less than the
swearer imposing his own sense upon the words
employed, which renders an oath altogether nugatory.
In this manner did Princijial Carstairs swear it
before the justices in Edinburgh, to the great amuse-
ment of the Jacobites, and being clear for it, he, in
the Assembly, by his singular policy, smoothed down
all asjierities, and prevented those who had not the
same capacity of conscience from coining to anything
like a rupture with their l)rethrcn, for which cause,
says Boston, I did always thereafter honour him iti
my heart ! Boston, nevertheless, abhorred the oath,
and could not bring his mind to take it, but deter-
mined to keep his station in the church till thni;t
out of it by the civil authorities. He made over to
his eldest son a house in l)unse, wliich he had in-
herited from his father, and made an assignation of
all his other goods to his servant, John Currie, so
that, when the law took effect, he might elude tlu-
]ienalty of five hundred pounds sterling that was
attached to tlie neglect or the refusal to take tjie
oath uiliiin a ju-escribed ]ieriod. The nienioiy ol
the late jiersecuting reigns was, ]lowc^■er, still Iresli,
and no (jiie a])i)eared willing to incur the odium of
imitating them; and, so fiir as we know, the penalty
wa.-, never in one sini'le instance exacted, 'i'he

THOMAS BOSTON.

159

subject of this memoir, at least, was never brought
to any real trouble respecting it.

Amid all Mr. Hoston's attention to public affairs
he was still a most diligent minister; and instcatl of
relaxing anything of his labours since leaving Simp-
rin, had greatly increased them by a habit he had
fallen into of writing out his sermons in full, which
in the earlier i)art of his ministry he scarcely ever
did. This prepared the way for the publication of
his sermons from the press, by which they have
been made extensively useful. The first suggestion
of this kind seems to have come from his friend Dr.
Trotter, to whom he paid a visit at Dunse, after
assisting at the sacrament at Kelso, in the month of
October, 171 1; on which occasion the notes of the
sermons he had preached on the state of man were
left with the Doctor for his perusal, and they formed
the foundation of that admirable work, The Fourfold
Slate, which was prepared for publication before the
summer of 1714, but was laid aside for fear of the
Pretender coming in and rendering the sale impos-
sii)le. In the month of August, tiie same year, he
preached his action sermon from Ilosea ii. 19; which
met with so much accejJtance, that he was requested
for a copy with a view to publication. This he
complied with, and in the course of the following
winter it was printed under the title of The Ever-
lastiitg Espousals, and met with a very good receji-
tion, 1200 copies being sold in a short time, which
paved the way for the publication of The Eoin-fold
State, and was a means of urging him forward in the
most important of all his public appearances, that in
defence of the Marrozu of Modern Divinity.

During the insurrection of 1715 he was troubled
not a little with the want of military ardour among
his parishioners of Ettrick, and in tlie year 1717
with an attempt to have him, altogether against his
inclination, transported to the parish of Closeburn,
in Dumfriesshire. In the meantime, Tlie Eoitrfold
Slate had been again and again transcribed, and had
been revised by Mr. John Hint at Edinburgh; and,
in 1718, his friends, ^Iessrs. .Simson, Gabriel Wilson,
and Henry Davidson, offered to advance money to
<lerray the expense of its pul:)lication. The ^IS.,
however, was sent at last to Mr. Robert Wiglitman,
treasurer to the city of Edinburgh, who ultimately
became the prefacer and the pul)lisher of the book,
with many of his own emendations, in consequence
of which there was a necessity for cancelling a
number of sheets and reprinting them, before the
autlior could allow it to come to the ]>ublic; nor v,-as
it thoroughly purged till it came to a second edition.
The first came out in 1 720.

The oath of abjuration, altered, in a small degree,
at the petition of the greater part of the Presbyterian
nonjurors, was again imposed upon ministers in the
year 1719, when the most of the ministers took it,
to the great grief of many of their people, and to the
,t1 iilional persecution of the few who still wanted
free I'nn to take it, of which number Mr. Boston
still continued to be one. Mr. I'oston was at this
ti.iic cnii>!'iycd l)y tlie synod to examine some over-
tures li'iini tl'.e As>en"i!i!y regarding discipline; and
having hj,;:i, from \v.-< entrance on the ministry, dis-
satisfieil wi'.li ilie manner of admitting to the Lord's
table and planting vacant churches, he set himself
to have the<e matters rectitied, by remarks upon,
and enlargements uf tlicse custom-;. The synod did
!U)t, however, e\en s) nrach :is call fir them, and,
though they were by t!;e pre-V>ytery laid before the
commission, tlit-y were never tiiken into considera-
tion. ".\nd I apprelien<!.'" says P.o-to:!, "that the
malady will be incuralj'e till the ; i\'-c;;t constitution
be violentlv thrown down.'' Tiiov.gli the judicatures

were thus careless of any improvement in discipline,
they were not less so with regard to doctrine. The
Assembly, in 1 717, had dismissed Professor Simson,
without censure, though he had gone far into the
regions of error; and they condemned the whole
presbytery of Auchterarder for denying that any
pre-re(iuisite qualificati'jn was necessary on the part
of the sinner for coming to Christ; and this year,
1719, they, at the instigation of Princijial Haddow
of St. Andrews, commenced a prosecution against
Mr. James Hog of C'amock, who had published an
edition of the yJ/(;;-;w;', .Mexander Hamilton, minister
of Airth, James Brisbane, minister at Stirling, and
John Warden, minister at Gargunnock, who had ad-
vocated its i)rinciples: which ended in an act of the
(ieneral .-Vssembly, forbidding all under their inspec-
tion in time coming to teach or preach any such
doctrines. This act of Assembly was by IJo^ton and
his friends brought before the ])resbytery of .Selkirk,
who laid it before the synod of Merse and Teviot-
dale. Nothing to any puq:>ose was done in the
synod; but the publicity of the proceedings led to
a correspondence with Sir. James Hog, ^lr. Ralph
Erskine, and others, by whom a representation and
petition was given in to the Assembly, 1 72 1. This
representation, however, was referred to the com-
mission. When called before the commission, on
Thursday, May lS,,Mr. Hog not being ready, and
Mr. Bonar of Toqihichen gone home, Mr. Boston
had the honour of appearing first in that cause. On
that day they were borne down by universal clamour.
Next day, however. Principal Iladdow was closely
pushed in argmnent by Mr. Boston, and Logan of
Culcross was completely silenced by Mr. William-
son of Inveresk. The commission then gave out to
the twelve representing brethren twelve cjueries, to
which tliey were recjuired to return answers against
the month of March next. Th.ese answers, luminou.-,
and brief beyond anything of the kind in our lan-
guage, were begun by Mr. Ebenezer Erskine, but
greatly extended and improved by Mr. Gabriel
Wilson of Maxton. For presuming thus to question
the acts of Assembly, the whole number were ad-
monished and rebuked. Against this sentence they
gave in a protestation, on which they took in.-tni-
ments in due form; but it was not allowed to be
read. In the meantime, Mr. Boston prepared asi
edition of the Marn-nv, illustrated by copious notes,
which was published in 1726, and has ever since been
well-known to the religious public. The Assembly,
ashamed, after all, of the act complained of, re-
modelled it in such a way as to abate somewhat its
grossness, though, in the process, it lost little of it-
venom.

Following out his plan of illustrating gospel truth.
Boston preached to his peojile a course of sernn ins
on the covenants of works and of grace, ^\hich h,T.\e
long been in the hands of the public, and duly jiri/e 1
by judicious renders. His last appearance in t'e
General Assembly was in the year 1720, in tb.e c.i-e
of Professor .""limson, \\here he di--.-er.ted from :!;e
sente!ice of the .Assembly as being no jii>i te-;::i'.i :iy
of the church's indignation against tl:e A\Av 'Wv.x d. '::e
by t!;e said Mr. Sinison to our Lilori'r.s lie iecir.er.
the great God and our Saviour, nor i^.greealle to ;l:e
rule (if God's wonl in such cp.-es. n-;- a t:! ir.ear.- : ■
bring the said Mr. .S;ms"!i hin>e!"'t'i Jerer.tap.ce. ■ :
which, he a<!deil. he li;vl yet :;ive:i r.o eMieii^e.
This di--ent. however, for the -.lue "f il^.e ] '-.'.lc ■ \
the church, which so;i-e said it n;i_:h: e;>!.- -er. ]:■•
did not insi-t to have rec^ a- ie^ : • :. the .\-en;!.!y'-
books. His h\-t pu'olie \\''>:k -.".a- a letter !■) t!;e
llre^l>ytery, whieli ir.et at Se'.\;:'.. May 2. I7.>2. re-
-t^eeting the '.'Verturc f-T -etth: -. \.;^.i:u 1 ..ri;he>;

i6o

JAMES BOSWELL.

which breathes all the ardour and piety of his more
early productions, and in which he deprecates tiie
turning of tliat overture into a standing law, as what
cannot fail to be the ruin of the church, and he prays
that his letter may l)e recorded as a testimony
against it. His health had been for a number of
years declining; he was now greatly emaciated; and
he died on the twentieth of Slay, 1732, in the fifty-
sixth year of his age. Mr. IJoston was married
shortly after his settlement at Siniprin to Katharine
Ihown, a worthy pious woman, by wliom he had
ten children, four of whom only survived him.
Tiiomas, the youngest, was ordained to the ]iastoraI
care of the parish of Oxnam; but removing tiience to
Jedburgh without a jiresentation from the ])atron, or
the leave of his presi)ytery, became one of the fiithers
of the Relief church. Of the fortunes of his other
children we have not been informed. Of the
character of Boston there can be liut one oiiinion.
Ardent and pious, his whole life was lievoted to tlie
promoting of tlie glory of Ood and the best interests
of his fellowmen. .\s an author, tiiough he has been
lowered by the publication of too many posthumous
works, he must yet be admitted to stand in the first
class. Even the most incorrect of his pieces betray
the marks of a highly original and powerful mind,
and his Fourfold Statt- of Mijit cannot fail to be read
and admired so long as the faith of tlie gospel con-
tinues to be taught and learned in the language in
which it is written.

BOSWELL, Jami'.s, the friend and biographer of
Dr. Samuel Johnson, was born at Edinburgh, October
29. »740.

The Boswells or Bosvilles, are supposed to have
"come in with the Conciueror," and to have migrated
to Scotland in the reign of David I. [1124-53].
I)avid Boswcll of Balmuto, the eleventh represen-
tative of the family in succession, had, besides his
heir, Alexander, who succeeded to the family estates,
a son named Thomas, who became a servant of
James 1\'., and was gifted by that monarch with
the land-, of .Auchinleck, in Ayrshire, which were
then in the crown by recognition.

James Boswell was the eldest son of Alexander
15 )5well of Auchinieck, and of Euphemia Erskine.
The fatlier was an advocate, in good ])ractice at tlie
Scottisli bar; who was, in 1754, elevated to the
bench, taking, on that occasion, the designation of
Lord .Auchinieck. James lioswell, father of Lord
.\uchinlcck, had aJM) been a Scottish barrister, and,
a- wc learn fr'jm Lord Kanics, one of the best of liis
t;me; lii-. u ife was a daugliler of Alexander ijruce,
second Earl of Kincanlme, whose mother was
Veronica, a liauglitcr of the no!;lc house of Som-
mel> l}k in noihin<l. Koran account c^f Auchinieck,
reference may l)e made to Joluaoii' s Journcv to Ihc
ll',s/,-/ii IsLiiiiii.

The fuller of the l)iogra]<lirr wa-; a sti-rn and rigid
Pre-byterian, and a /eaioiu :-.u]iporler of tin.' House
of Ilaii'iver: young Boswell, on the contrary, from
\\\> earlie-t year^, showed a disjiositioii favoui'abK- to
the high church and the family of Stuart. 1)).
Johnson u^ed to tell the following st.iry of hi-, bio-
grapher's early years, which lioswell iia^ eoiifcs-ed
to i>e literally true. "In 1745 lioswell \\a>a tiiu-
buy, wore a wliite cockade, and praved for King
James, till one of his uncles ((ieiieral ('oihiaii) gave
him a shilling, on con<lition that he would jpt.iv for
King Georg',', which lie accordingly did." "So you
see,"' adds lioswell, who ha^ himself preserved the
anecdote, " U'/ii.^s of all airs are made in llic same
r;v7i'."

He received the rudiments of his education at tiie

school of Mr. James Mundell, in Edinburgh, a
teacher of considerable reputation, who gave ele-
mental instruction to many distinguished men. He
afterwartls went through a complete academical
course at the college of Edinburgh, where he formed
an intimacy with Mr. Temple of Allardeen in North-
umberland, afterwards vicar of St. Gluvies in Corn-
wall, and known in literary history for a well-written
character of Gray, which has been adopted both by
Dr. Johnson and Mason in their memoirs of that
poet. Mr. Temple and several other young English
gentleman were fellow-students of Boswell, and it is
supjjosed that his intercourse with them was the
original and principal cause of that remarkable pre-
dilection for English society and manners which
characterized him through life.

Boswell very early began to show a taste for
literary composition, in which he was encouraged by
Lord Somerville, of whose flattering kindness he
ever preserved a grateful recollection. His lively
and sociable disposition, and passion for distinguish-
ing himself as a young man of parts and vivacity,
also led "him, at a very early period of life, into the
society of the actors in the theatre. While still at
college, Lady Houston, sister of Lord Cathcart, put
under his care a comedy, entitled The Coijtiettes, or
the Gallant in the Closet, with a strict injunction that
its author should be concealed. Boswell exerted his
interest among the players to get this piece brought
out upon the stage, and made himself further con-
spicuous by writing the prologue, which was spoken
by Mr. Parsons. It was condemned at the third
performance, and not unjustly, for it was found to
be chiefly a bad translation of one of the worst plays
of Corneille. Such, however, was the fidelity of
Boswcll, that, though universally believed to be the
author, and consequently laughed at in the most
unmerciful manner, he never divulged the name of
the fair writer, nor was it known till she made
the discovery herself.

After studying civil law for some time at Edin-
burgh, Boswell went for one winter to pursue the
same study at Glasgow, where he, at the same time,
attended the lectures of Dr. Adam Smith on moral
philosophy and rhetoric. Here he continued, as
at Edinburgh, to adopt his companions chiefly
from the class of English students attending the
university.

Inspired, by reading and conversation, with an
almost enthusiastic notion of London life, Boswell
paid his first visit to that metropolis in 1760, and
his ardent expectations were not disappointed. The
society, amusements, and general style of life which
he found in the modern IJabylon, and to which he
was introduced by the poet Derrick, were suited
exactly to his taste and temper. He had already
given some specimens of a talent for writing occa-
sional essays and poeticalyVv/x d\'sprit, in periodical
works, and he thereffjre appeared before the wits of
the metropolis as entitled to some degree of attention.
He was chiefly indebted, however, for their friend-
sliip, to Alexander, lilarl of l-'.glintoune, one of the
most amiable and accomplished n(jbleinen of his
lime, who, being of the same county, and from his
earliest years acquainted with the family of Auchin-
ieck, insisted that young Boswell shoidd have an
apartment in his house, and introduced him, as
Boswell himself used to say, "into the circle of the
great, the gay, and the ingenious." Lord llglintoune
caiiied his young friend along witli him to .New-
market; an adventure which seems U) have made a
strong impression on Boswell's imagination, as he
celebiated it in a ]ioem called 7he Cub at Xeic-
marl-et, which was published by Dodsley, in 1 762,

JAMES BOSWELL.

lei

in 4to. The cub was himself, as appears from the
following extract : —

"Lord Kglintoune, who loves, you know,
A little dash uf whim or so,
l!y chance a curious cub had got,
On Scotia's mountains newly caught."

In siicli terms was Boswell content to speak of him-
self in i>rint, even at this early period of life, and,
what adds to the absurdity of the whole affair, he
could not rest till he had read The Cub at New-
market in manuscript to Edward, I )uke of York, and
obtained permission from his royal highness to dedi-
cate it to him.

It was the wish of Lord Auchinleck that his son
should apply himself to the law, a profession to
which two generations of the family had now been
devoted, and in which Lord Auchinleck thought
that his own eminent situation woukl be of advantage
to the success of a third. lioswell himself, though,
in obedience to his father's desire, he had studied
civil law at the colleges of Edinburgh and Cilasgow,
was exceedingly unwilling to consign himself to the
studious life of a barrister at Edinburgh, where at
this time the general tone of society was the very
reverse of iiis (jwn temperament. He had already
cast his eyes upon the situation of an officer in tiie
foot-guards, as calculated to afford him that indul-
gence in London society which he so much desireil,
while it was, at the same time, not incompatible with
his prosjiects as a Scottish country gentleman, and
it was with some difficulty that his fatlier prevailed
upon him to return to Scotland and consult about
the choice of a profession. The okl judge even took
the trouble to put his son through a regular course
of instruction in the law, in the hope of inspiring him
with an attachment to it. But though he was brought
the length of standing his trials as a civilian before
a committee of tlie faculty, he could not be prevailed
upon to enter heartily into his father's views.

During \i\x\. of the years 1761 and 1762, while con-
fined to lidinburgh and to this partial and unwilling
study of the law, he contrived to alleviate the irksome-
ness of his situation by cultivating the society of the
illustrious men who now cast a kind of glory over
Scotland and Scotsmen. Kames, Blair, Robertson,
Hume, and Dalrymple, though greatly his seniors,
were pleased to honour him with their friendship;
more, perliaps, on account of his worthy and dignified
parent than on his own. He also amused himself
at this time in contributing jciix iVcsprit to A Coi-
hrtion of Ori:^inal Poems bv Scottish GcutLimit, of
which two Volumes were successively published by
Alexander Donaldson, an enterprising bookseller;
being an imitation of the Miscellanies of Dodsley.

At this time he cultivated a particular intimacy
with the Hon. Andrew Erskine, a younger brother
of the musical Earl of Kelly, and who might be said
to jio^^.j^-; wit by inheritance, his father being re-
marl<ablc fir this property (though not for good
sense), while his mother was the daughter of Dr.
Pitcairne. Ki^kiiie and Pioswell were, in frivolitv.
Arcades anr:K or rather there seemed to be a com-
petition betwixt them which should exhibit the
greater sliare of tliat (|uality. A correspondence, in
whicli this contest seem> to be carried on, was pul)-
lished in 1 763, and, as there was no attempt to con-
ceal nanus, the two letter-writers must have been
regarde 1, in that dull and decorous age, as little
better than f)ols — fools f)r writing in such a strain
at all, but doubly fools fir laying their folly in such
a permanent shape before the world.

At the end of the year I7('>2, lioswell, still retain-
ing his wish to enter the guards, repaired once mure

VOL. I.

to London to endeavour to obtain a commission.
Eor this ])urposc he carried recommendations to
Charles, Duke of Queenslx;rry — the amiable patron
of Gay — who, he Ijclieved, was able to obtain for
him what he wished. (Jwing, however (as is under-
stood), to the backwardness of Lord Auchinleck to
enforce his claims, his patrons put him off from time
to time, till he was again ol)liged to return to Scot-
land. At length, in the spring of 1763, a compromise
was made between the father and his son — the latter
agreeing to relinquish his Aivourite project, and re-
sume the .study of the civil law for one winter at
Utrecht, with the view of ultimately entering the
legal profession, on the condition that, after the com-
pletion of his studies he sh(juld be jiermitted to make
what was then called "the grand tour." Boswell
set out for this purpose early in 1763; and, accord-
ing to the recollection of an ancient inhabitant of
Glasgow, his appearance in riding through that city
on his way from Auchinleck was as follows: — "A
cocked hat, a brown wig, brown coat, made in the
court fashion, red vest, corduroy small clothes, and
long military-looking boots. He was on horsel>ack,
with his servant at a most aristocratic distance Iw-
hind, and presented a fine specimen of the .Scottish
country gentleman of that day.'' — Ediii. Lit. Jour.
ii. 327.

In Boswell's previous visits to London he had
never had the good fortune to make the acquaintance
of Dr. Samuel Johnson. He had now that pleasure.
On the i6th of May, as he himself takes care to in-
form us, while sitting in the backshop of Thomas
Davies, the bookseller. No. 8 Russell Street, Covent
Garden, Johnson came in, and Boswell was intro-
duced by Davies as a young gentleman "from Scot-
land." Owing to the antipathy of the lexicographer
to that country, his conversation with Boswell was
not at first of so cordial a description as at all to
predicate the remarkable friendship they afterwards
formed. Boswell, however, by the vivacity of his
conversation, soon beguiled the Doctor of his preju-
dices; and their intimacy was confirmed by a visit
which he soon after paid to Johnson at his a]>art-
ments in the Temple. During the few months \\ liich
Boswell spent in town before setting out for Utrecht,
he ap]ilied himself assiduously to cultivate this friend-
shi]), taking ajiartments in the Temjile in order that
he might be the oftener in the com]iany of the great
man. Even at this early period he began that prac-
tice of noting down the conversation of John>on,
which eventually enabled him to compose such a
splendid monument to their common memor\-.

He set out for Utrecht in August, 1763, and, after
studying for the winter under the celebrated civilian
Trotz, proceeded, according to the compact with his
father, upon the tour of Europe. In company with
the Earl Marischal, whose acf|uaimar.ce he had
formed, he travelled through Swii/erland and (ier-
many, visiting Voltaire at l-'erney, and Rou>.--eau in
the wilds of Xeufchatel — men whom his regard fur
the principles of religion might have taught him to
avoid, if his itch for the acquaintance of r.nted nicn
— one of the most remarkable features of his ch.ii-
acter — had not forced him into tlieir presence. lie
afterwards cros-ed the .Alps, and -pent - 'iiic time in
visiting the principal citie- in ltal_\-. IKic he l.'rnicd
an acquaintance with l.i>rd Mount>tiiart. the cl'ic-t
son of the I'.arl of I'.ute. to \\!i.>m ho after" aid- de ii-
cated his law the>is on being admitted tn the l>ar.

.\t this time the inhabitants of the -ni.-.ll i-Iand of
Cor.-ica were engaged in their t'.ini 'V.- -trui^gle l.'r
libertv again-t the (ienoe-e; and 1 a-qv..-.!e de I'a..Ii.
their hemic leader, wa-. i^r tlie time, one "f \\x mo-t
noted men in Luroue. Cj-wdl, ?truck l)v an irre-

11

1 62

JAMES BOSWELL.

pressible curiosity regarding this person, sailed to
Corsica in autumn, 1765, and introduced himself to
Paoli at his palace by means of a letter from Rousseau.
He was received with much distinction and kindness,
and noted down a good deal of the very striking
conversation of the Corsican chief. After a residence
of some weeks in the island, during which he made
himself acquainted with all its natural and moral
features, he returned through France, and arrived in
London, Febniary, 1766, his journey being hastened
by intelligence of the tleath of his mother. Dr.
Johnson received him, as he passed through London,
with renewed kindness and friendship.

Boswell now returned to Scotland, and, agreeably
to the treaty formed witli Lord Auchinleck, entered
(July 26, 1766) as a member of the faculty of advo-
cates. His temper, however, was still too volatile
for the studious pursuit of the law, and he did not
make that progress in his profession which might
have been expected from tlie nunicious advantages
with which he commenced. The Douglas cause was
at this time pending, an<l Boswell, who was a warm
partisan of the young claimant, jniblished (November,
1767) a pcmphlet entitled 'flic lisscmcofthe Douglas
Cause, in answer to one entitled Considerations on
the Douglas Cause, in whicli a strenuous eiTort had
been made to prove the claimant an impostor. It is
said that Mr. Boswell's exertions on this occasion
were of material service in exciting a popular pre-
possession in favour of the doubtful heir. This,
however, was the most remarkable appearance made
by Mr. Boswell as a lawyer, if it can be called so.

His Corsican tour and the friendship of Paoli had
made a deep impression on Boswell's mind. He
conceived that he had seen and made himself ac-
(juainted with what had been seen and known by
few; and he was perpetually talking of the islanders
and their chief. This mania, which was rather per-
haps to be attribute<l to his vain desire of showing
himself ofT in connection with a subject of popular
talk than any ajipreciation of the noble character of
the Corsican struggle, at length olitained him the
nickname of Paoli, or Paoli-Bor.oell. Resolving
that the workl at large should partici])ate in what he
knew of Corsica, he luiblishcl, in the s])ring of 1768,
his account of that inland, which was ])rinted in 8vo
by the celebrated brothers Foulis at (liasgow, and
w.as well received. The >ketclies of the island and
it", inhabitants are lively and amusing; anrl his memoir
of I'aoli. which follows the account of the island, is
a spirited narrative of patriotic deeds and sufferings.
The work was translated into the Cicrnian, Dutch,
French, and Italian languages, and evervwhere in-
fectefi it^ readers with its own enthi'siastic feeling in
behalf of the oppressed islanders. Dr. Johnson thus
exi>re>sed himself regarding it: — "^'ollr journal is
curious and delightful; I know not uhether I could
name any narrative by which ciirio-^ity is bcttL-r
excited or better gratified." On tin- other hand,
J(^hnson joined the re-.t of the wmld in thinking
that the author indulged too nuicli personally in his
enthusiasm upon the suhjcct, and advis^il him, in
a letter dated March 25, 1 76S, to "em]ity his head
of Corsica." Boswell was so vain of hi^ book as to
pay a visit to London in the s])ring court vacation,
chiefly for the purpose of seeking Dr. Jolnison's
a[)probation more at large.

In the following winter a ]>atent was olitaiiud,
for the first time, by Ross, the luannger of the Ivlin-
burgh theatre; but, nevertheless;, a violent o]ipo-iiioti
was still maintained against this public amusement
by the more rigid i)ortion of the citizens. Ko-s,
b_-ing anxious to a])]iease his enemies, solicited bos-
well to write a jjrologue for the opening of the house,

which request was readily complied with. The
verses were, as Lord Mansfield characterized them,
witty and conciliating; and their effect, being aided
by friends properly jilaced in different parts of the
house, was instantaneous and most triumphant; the
tide of opposition was turned, the loudest jjlaudits
were given, and Ross at once entered upon a very
prosperous career.

Li 1769 Boswell paid a visit to L-eland, where he
spent six or seven weeks, chiefly at Dublin, and
enjoyed the society of Lord Charlemont, Dr. Leland,
Mr. Flood, Dr. Macbride, and other eminent per-
sons of that kingdom, not forgetting the celebrated
George Falconer, the friend of Swift and Chester-
field. Viscount, afterwards Marquis Townshend,
was then lord-lieutenant, and the congeniality of
their dispositions united them in the closest friend-
ship. He enjoyed a great advantage in the union of
one of his female cousins to Mr. .Siblhorpe, of the
county of Down, a gentleman of high influence, who
was the means of introducing him into much good
society. Another female cousin, Miss Margaret
Montgomery, daughter of Mr. Montgomery of Lain-
shaw, accompanied him on the expedition, and not
only added to his satisfaction by her own delightful
company, but caured him to be received with much
kindness by her numerous and respectable relations.
This jaunt was the means of converting Boswell from
a resolution which he appears to have formed to
live a single life. He experienced so much pleasure
from the conversation of Miss Montgomery, that he
was tempted to seek her society for life in a mat-
rimonial engagement. He had resolved, he said,
never to marry — had always protested, at least, that
a large fortune would be indispensable. He was
now, however, impressed with so high an opinion of
her particular merit, that he would waive that con-
sideration altogether, provided she would waive his
faults also, and accept him for better for worse.
Miss Montgomery, who was really an eligible match,
being related to the noble family of Kglintoune,
while her father laid claim to the domiant peerage
of Lyie, acceeded to his projjosal with corresponding
frankness; and it was determined that they should be
married at the end of the year, after he should have
paid one parting visit to London.

Before this visit was paid, Mr. Boswell was gra-
tified in the highest degree l)y the arrival of General
Paoli, who, having been iorced to abandon his
native island, in consequence of the French invasion,
had sought that refuge on the shores of Britain
which has never yet been refused to the unfortunate
of any countr}-. In autumn, 1769, General Paoli
visited Scotland and Boswell; an account of his
progress through the country, with Bos^\•ell in his
train, is given in the Scots Magazine of the time.
Both on this occasion and on his subsequent visit to
London, Boswell attended the exiled jialriot with an
obsequious fidelity, arising no doubt as much from
his desire of ajipearing in the comjxany of a noted
character, as from gratitude for former favours of a
similar kind. Among other persons to whom he
introduced his Corsican friend, was Dr. Johnson, an
entirely opposite being in destiny an<l character, but
who, nevertheless, was at some ])ains to converse
with the unfortunate stranger — Boswell acting as
inter] ireter. It would be cm ions to know in what
light I'aoli, who was a high-niintled man, beheld his
eccentric eieei'onc.

1 luring the time of his visit to London, ,Se]itcniber.
I7'')9, the jubilee took place at .Stratford, to cele-
lirate the birth of .Sliakspeare. As nearly all the
Kterary, and many of the fashionable ]iersoiis of the
day were collected at this solemnity, Boswell entered

JAMES BOSWELL.

163

into it with a great deal of spirit, and played, it is
said, many fantastic tricks, more suited to a carnival
scene on the Continent, than to a sober festival in
England. To pursue a contemporary account,
"One of tlie most remarkable masks upon this
occasion was James Boswell, Esq., in the dress of
an armed Corsican chief He entered the amphi-
theatre about 12 o'clock. He wore a short, dark-
coloured coat of coarse cloth, scarlet waistcoat and
breeches, and black spatterdashes; his cap or bonnet
was of black cloth; on the front of it was embroidered
in gold letters, V/va la liberta; and on one side of it
was a handsome blue feather and cockade, so that it
had an elegant as well as a warlike appearance. On
the breast of his coat was sewed a Moor's head, the
crest of Corsica, surrounded with branches of laurel.
He had also a cartridge-pouch, into which was stuck
a stiletto, and on his left side a jiistol was hung upon
the belt of his cartridge-pouch. He had a fusee
slung across his shoulder, Tuore 110 fmvder in his
hair! but had it plaited at full length, with a knot of
blue ribbons at the end of it. He had, by way of
staff, a very curious vine all of one piece, with a bird
finely carved upon it, emblematical of the sweet bard
of Avon. He wore no mask; saying, that it was not
proper for a gallant Corsican. .So soon as he came
into the room, he drew universal attention. The
novelty of the Corsican dress, its becoming appear-
ance, and the character of that brave nation, con-
curred to distinguish the anned Corsican chief He
was first accosted by Mrs. Garrick, with whom he
had a good deal of conversation. Mr. Boswell
danced both a minuet and a country-dance with a
very pretty Irish lady, Mrs. .Sheldon, wife to Captain
Sheldon of the jSth regiment of foot, who w^as
dressed in a genteel domino, and before she danced,
threw off her mask." London Magazine, September,
1769, where there is a portrait of the modern
Xenophon in this strange guise.

On the 25th of November he was married at Lain-
shaw, in Ayrshire, to Miss Montgomery, and what
is rather a remarkable circumstance, his father was
married on the same day, at Edinburgh, to a second
wife. With admirable sense, affection, and gener-
osity of heart, the wife of James Boswell possessed
no common share of wit and pleasantry. She died
in June, 1789, leaving two sons, Alexander and
James, and three daughters, Veronica, Eupbemia,
and Elizabeth. For two or three years after his
marriage Boswell appears to have lived a quiet
])rofessional life at Edinburgh, paying only short
occasional visits to London. In autumn, 1773, Dr.
Johnson gratified him by coming to Edinburgh, and
proceeding in his company on a tour through the
north of Scotland and the Western Islands. On
thi> occasion Boswell kept a journal, as usual, of
every remarkable part of Dr. Johnson's conversation.
The journey being made rather late in the season,
the two travellers encountered some hard>hips, and
a few dangers; Ixit they were highly pleased with
w hat they saw, and the reception they ever\-where
met witli; Hciswcll, for his own part, declaring that
he would not have missed the acquisition of so manv
new and delightful ideas as he had gained by this
means for five hundred pounds. Dr. Johnson ]iub-
lished an account of their trij), antl the observations
he made during its progress, under the title of a
yonr)tey to the WatLru Islands; and Boswell, after
the death of his friend (17851, gave to the world the
journal he had kept, as a Tour to the Hebrides, I
volume Svo. The latter is jierhaps one of the most
entertaining works in the language, though only
rendered so, we must ackr.'uvledge, at the expense
of the author's di^nitv. It ran thruu 'Ii three edi-

tions during the first twelvemonth, and has since been
occasionally reprinted.

For many years after the journey to the Hebrides,
Boswell only enjoyed such snatches of Johnson's
company and conversation as he could obtain by
occasional visits to London, during the vacations of
the Court of Session. Of these interviews, however,
he has preserved such ample and interesting records,
as must make us regret that he did not live entirely
in London. It ajjpears that, during the whole
period of his acquaintance with Johnson, he paid
only a dozen visits to London, and spent with him
only a hundred and eighty days in all; which, added
to the time they spent in their northern journey
between August l8th and November 23d, 1773,
makes the whole period during which the biographer
enjoyed any intercourse with his subject, only two
hundred and seventy-six days, or one hundredth part
of Johnson's life.

The strangely vain and eccentric conduct of Bos-
well had, long ere this period, rendered him almost
as notable a character as any of those whom he was
so anxious to see. His social and good-humoured
character gained him universal friendship; but this
friendship was never attended with perfect respect.
Men of inferior qualifications despised the want of
natural dignity which made him go about in atten-
dance upon every great man, and from no higher
object in life than that of being the commemorator
of their conversations. It is lamentable to state
that, among those who despised him, was his own
father; and even other relations, from whom respect
might have been more imperatively required, were
fretted by his odd habits. "Old Lord Auchinleck,"
s.ays Sir Walter Scott, "was an able lawyer, a good
scholar, after the manner of Scotland, and highly
valued his own advantages as a man of good estate
and ancient family, and, moreover, he was a strict
Presbyterian and Whig of the old Scottish cast."
To this character his son presented a perfect contrast
— a light-headed lawyer, an aristocrat only in theory,
an Episcopalian, and a Tory. But it was chiefly with
the unsettled and undignified conduct of his son that
the old gentleman found fault. "There's nae hope
for Jamie, man," he said to a friend about the time
of the journey to the Hebrides; "Jamie's gane clean
.g}te: What do ye think, man? he's aff wi' the land-
louping scoundrel of a Corsican; and whase tail
do ye think he has pinned himself to now, man?"
Here the old judge summoned up a sneer of most
sovereign contempt. "A dominie, man (meaning
Johnson), an auld dominie, that keejiit a schule, and
ca'd it an academy ! " By the death of Lord Auchin-
leck, in 1782, Boswell was at length freed from what
he had always felt to Vje a most painful restraint,
and at the same time became possessed of his paternal
estate.

Boswell's mode of life, his social indulgences, and
his frequent desertion of business for the sake of
London literar)- society, tended greatly to enibarra>s
his circumstances; and he was induced to trv if tlu-y
could be rejiaired by exertions in the worl'I ut p' 'lit'.cs.
In 1784, when the people were in a state n! ir.i'-i
alarming excitement in conse(]ucnce <if Mr. 1-mx.-
India Bill, and the elevation of Mr. Pitt, h.c wmic
a pamphlet, entitled -•/ Letter to the People ,y' Svtluui.
on the Present State 0/ the Xot.-ou: ai^.l cii<icav, .urcd.
bv means of it, to olitain tlie favoural'lc r.^titc el
>ir. Pitt; but we are infMrnicd th.rit. thMi:.L:h the
youthful minister homnired the w.irk v,-;:ii hi- aji-
probation, the erfoit- of the auth-jr t^' iriciiie an
introduction to j-oli-.ical life \'.cic r/.ter.'icd wnh a
mortifying want nf >'.iccc.-s. He v..:-, i^vveniirlc,--,
induced to .appear once mere as a 1 .•r.K.hletccr in

IC4

JAMES BOSWELL.

17S5, when he published a second Lettt-r to the People
of Scotland, though upon an humbler theme, namely,
"On the alarming attempt to infringe the articles of
union, and introducing a most pemicious innovation,
by diminishing the numbers of the lords of session."
This proposal hail been brought forward in the House
of Commons; the salaries of the judges were to be
raised, and, that the expense miglit not fall upon the
countr}', their number was to be reiluced to ten.
Boswell (to use a modern phrase) immediately
commenced a vehement agitation in Scotland, to
oppose the bill; anil among other measures wliich
he took for exciting public attention, published this
letter. His chief ar^gument was, that the number
of the judges was established immutably by tlie act
of union; an act which entered into the very con-
stitution of parliament itself, and how then could
parliament touch it ? The agitation prevailed, and
the court remained as it had been, for another gene-
ration.

Boswell, whose practice at the .Scottish l)ar was
never ver\' great, had long wished to remove to the
English, in order tliat he might live entirely in
London. His father's reluctance, however, had
hitherto prevented him. Now that the old gentle-
man was dead, he found it possible to follow his
inclination, and accordingly he began, from time to
time, to keep his terms at the Inner Temple. At
Hilary term, I "86, he was called to the luiglish
bar, and in the ensuing winter removed his family to
London. His first professional effort is said to have
lx;en of a somewhat ominous character. \ few
of the idlers of Westminster Ilall, conspiring to
quiz poor Bozzy, as he was familiarly called, made
up an imaginary case, full of all kinds of absurdities,
which they caused to be i)rcsented to him for his
opinion. He, taking all for real, returned a bona-
y/Vt: note of judgment, which, while it almost killed
hi-i friends with laughter, covered himself with in-
eff.iceable ridicule.

It is to be regretted that this decisive step in life
was not ad<)])ted by Boswell at an earlier period, as
thereby he might have rendered his Life of Johnson
still more valuable than it is. Johnson having died
upwards of a year before his removal, it was a step
of little importance in a literary |ioint of view; nor
ilid it turn out much better in resjjcct of professional
profit.

So early as 1 78 1, when Mr. Burke was in power,
that great man Iiad endeavoured to ]irocure an ex-
tension of the government ])atronage towards Boswell.
"We must do something for you," he said, "for our
own sakes," and recoinmended him to (General
Conway for a vacant ])lace, by a letter in which his
character was drawn in glowing colfiurs. The ])lace
was not obtained; but ISoswell declared that he
valued the letter more. He was now enabled, by
the interot of Lonl I.owthcr, to obtain the situation
of recorder of Carlisle, hinding this rccordership,
at so great a distance from London, attended witli
many inconveniences, Boswell, after holding it fur
abnit two years, resigned it.

It was well knr)wn at this time that he was verv
anxious to get into parliament; and many wundered
that so sound a Tory should not have obtained a seat
at the hands of some great parliamentary proprietor.
Perhaps this wonder may be explained l)y a ])assage
in his last Letter to the People of S,otlau,!. ' "Tliou-li
aml)itious," he says, "I am uncorni]'ted; atid 1 envy
not high situations which are attained by the want
of ])uhlic virtue in men born without it, or bv the
jiro^titution of public virtue in men born with it.
Though i)ower, and wealth, and m.Tgnincence. mav
at first dazzle, and are, I think, most desirable, no

wise man will, upon sober reflection, envy a situa-
tion which he feels he could not enjoy. My friend
— my 'Mrecenas atavis edite regibus' — Lord Mount-
stuart flattered me once very highly without intend-
ing it. 'I would do anything for you,' he said,
'but bring you into parliament, for I could not be
sure but you would oppose me in something the
very next day. ' His lordship judged well. Though
I should consider, with much attention, the opinion
of such a friend before taking my resolution, most
certainly I should oppose him in any measure which
I was satisfied ought to be opposed. I cannot exist
witli j)leasure, if I have not an honest independence
of mind and of conduct; for, though no man loves
good eating and drinking better than I do, I prefer
the broiled blade-bone of mutton and humble port
of 'downright Shii)pen,' to all the luxury of all the
statesmen who j^lay the political game all through."

He offered himself, however, as a candidate for
Ayrshire, at the general election of 1790; but was
defeated by the interest of the minister, which was
exerted for a more pliant partisan. On this and all
other proper occasions, he made no scruple to avow
himself a Tory and a royalist; saying, however, in
the words of his pamphlet just quoted, "I can drink,
I can laugh, I can converse, in perfect good humour,
with Whigs, with Republicans, with Dissenters,
with Moravians, with Jews — they can do me no
harm — my mind is made up — my principles are
fixed — but I would vote with Tories, and pray with
a dean and chapter."

If his success at the bar and in the political world
was not very splendid, he consoled himself, so far
as his own fancy was to be consoled, by the grateful
task of preparing for the press his magmtin optis —
the life of Dr. Johnson. This work appeared in
1 79 1, in two volumes quarto, and was received with
an avidity suitable to its entertaining and valuable
character. Besides a most minute narrative of the
literary and domestic life of Johnson, it contained
notes of all the remarkable expressions which the
sage had ever uttered in Mr. Bos well's presence,
besides some similar records from other hands, and
an immense store of original letters. As decidedly
the most faithful biographical portraiture in existence,
and referring to one of the most illustrious names in
literature, it is uncpiestionably the first book of its
class; and not only so, but there is no other biogra-
phical work at all approaching to it in merit. While
this is the ])raise deserved by the work, it hajiiK-ns,
rather uncommonly, that no similar degree of ap-
probation can be extended to the writer. Though
a great 'work, it is only so by accident, or rather
through the persevering assiduity of the author in a
course which no man fit to ]iroduce a designedly
great work could have submitted to. It is only
great by a multi])lication and agglomeration of little
efforts. The preparation of a second edition of the
life of Dr. Johnson was the last literary performance
of Boswell, who died, May 19, 1795, at his house
in (ireat Poland .Street, London, in the 55th year
of his age; having been jireviously ill for five weeks
of a disrjrder which had commenced as an inteimit-
ting fever. He was buried at the family seat of
Auchinleck.

The character of Boswell is so amply shadowed
forth by the foregoing account of his life, that little
more need be said about it. That he was a good-
natured soci.nl man, possessed of considerable powers
i>r imni^ination and humour, and well ac<iuainted
with literature and the world of common life, is uni-
versally acknowledged. He has been, at the same
time, subjected to just ridicule for his total want of
that natural dignity by wdiich men of the world

ALEXANDER AND JAMES BOSWELL.

165

secure and maintain the respect of their fellow-
creatures in tiie daily business of life. He wanted
this to such a ilegree, that even those relations whose
respect was most necessary, according to the laws
of nature, could scarcely extend it; and from the
same cause his intellectual exertions, instead of shed-
dini^ a lustre upon his name, have proved rather
a kind of i)l.)t in his pedigree. His unmanly obse-
quiousness to great men — even though some of these
were great only by the respect due to talent — his
simpleton drollery— his degrading employment as a
chronicler of private conversations— his mean tastes,
among which was the disgusting one of a fondness
for seeing executions — and the half folly, half vanity,
with which he could tell the most delicate things,
personal to himself and his family, in print — have
altogether conspired to give him rather notoriety
than tnie fame, and, though perhaps leaving him
affection, deprive him entirely of respect. It was
a remarkable point in the character of such a man,
that, with powers of entertainment almost equal to
Shakspeare's description of Yorick, he was subject
to grievous fits of melancholy in private. One of his
works, not noticed in tlie preceding narrative, was a
series of papers under the title oi The Hypochondriac,
wliich appeared in the London Magazine for 1782,
and were intended to embody the varied feelings of
a man subject to that distemper.

BOSWELL, .\lexander and James, sons of
the preceding. It has been remarked, as creditable
to the memory of James VI., that he educated
two sons, who were, both in point of personal and
intellectual character, much above the standard of
ordinary men. Tlie same remark will apply to the
biographer of Johnson, who, whatever may be
thought of his own character, reared two sons who
stood forth afterwards as a credit to his parental
care. A wish to educate his children in the best
manner, was one of the ruling passions of this ex-
traordinary///Arrt/tV/r in his latter years. He placed
botli his sons at Westminster .School, and afterwards
in the university of Oxford, at an expense which
appears to have been not altogether justified by his
own circumstances.

Ale.xander Boswell, who was bom October 9,
1775, succeeded his father in the possession of the
family estate. He was distinguished as a spirited and
amiable country gentleman, and also as a literary-
antiquary of no inconsiderable erudition. Perhaps
his taste, in the latter capacity, was greatly fostered
by the possession of an excellent collection of old
manuscripts and books, which was gathered together
by his ancestors, and has acquired the well-known
title of the "ArcHiNLECK Library." From the
stores of this collection, in 1804, Sir Walter .Scott
jiublished the romance of Sir Tristram, which is
judged by its leame I editor to be the earliest speci-
men of poetry by a Scottish writer now in existence.
Besides this invalual)le present to the literary world,
tile Auchinleck Library furnished, in 1812, the l)lack
letter original of a disputation held lietween John
Knox and Ouentin Kennedy at Maybole in 1562,
which was jirinted at the time by Knox himself, but
had latterly Ijccome so scarce that hardly another
copy, bjsiiles that in the .\uchinleck Lilirary, was
known to exist. Mr. Boswell was at the expense
of printing a fac-simile edition of this curiosity,
wliich was acccjited by the learn d as a very valu-
able contribution to our stock of historical literature.

The taste of .-Mexandcr Boswell was of a much
manlier and more sterling character than tliat of his
fiiher; and instead of being alternately the active
anil jiassive cause of amusement to his iriends, he

shone exclusively in the former capacity. He pos-
sessed, indeed, a great fund of volatile talent, and,
in particular, a most pungent vein of satire, which,
while it occasionally inspired fear and dislike in those
who were liable to become its objects, produced no
admiration which was not also accompanied by
respect. At an early period of his life, some of his
poetical jeux ifcsprit occasionally made a slight
turmoil in that circle of Scottish society in which he
moved. He sometimes also exercised his pen in
that kind of familiar vernacular poetry which Bums
again brought into fashion; and in the department
of song-writing he certainly met with considerable
success. A small volume, entitled. Songs cltiejly in
the Scottish Dialect, was published by him, anony-
mously, in 1803, with the motto, "Nulla venenato
litera mixta joco," a motto which it would have l>een
well for him if he had never forgot. In a brief note
on the second folio of this little work, he mentioned
that he was induced to lay these trivial compositions
in an authentic shape before the public, because
corrupted copies had previously made their apjiear-
ance. The truth is, some of his songs had already
acquired a wide acceptation in public life, and were
almost as familiar as those of Burns.* The volume
also contains some English compositions, which still
retain a popularity — such as "Taste Life's Clad
Moments," which, he tells us, he translated at
Leipsig, in 1795, from the German song, "P'reu't
euch des Libens." Mr. Boswell also appears, from
various compositions in this little volume, to have
had a turn for writing popular Irish songs. One or
two of his attempts in that style are replete with the
grotesque character of the nation.*

In 1810 Mr. Boswell published a small volume
under the title, Edinburgh, or the Ancient Royalty,
a Sketch of former JMannejs, by Simon Gray. It is
a kind of city eclogue, in which a farmer, who knew
the town in a past age, is supposed to converse
regarding its modem changes, with a city friend.
It contains some highly curious memorials of the
simple manners which obtained in Edinburgh, before

1 We may instance, ".A.uldGudeman, ye're a Drucken Carle,"
" Jenny's ]Bawbce," and "Jenny Dang the Weaver."

'■^ It is hardly worth wlule to say more of a few fugitive
lyrics; but yet we cannot help pointing out a remarkaMv
beautiful antithesis, in one styled "The Old Chieftain to hia
Sons:" —

"The auld will speak, the j-oung maun hear,
Be canty, but t>e gude and leal;
Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear,
Anither's aye hae heart to feel."

In another he thus ludicrously adverts, in a fictitious character,
to the changes which modern manners, rather than time, have
produced upon the external and internal economy of the
.Scottish capit.d : —

Hech! what a change hae we now in this townl

A' now are braw lads, the lasses a' glancin ;
Folk maun be dizzy gaun aye in this roun'.

For deil a hae't 's done now but feastin' and dancin'.
Gowd's no that scantv in ilk siller pock.

Whan ilka bit laddie maun h.ae his bit staigis;
But I kent the day when there was na a Jock,

But trotted about upon honest shanks-naigie.
Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste,

Barely a nuillin for mice or for rattens:
The thrifty gudewife to the flesh-market paced,

Her equipage a'— just a gude pair o' patie:.>.
Folk were as gude then, and friends were as lea.:

Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a' c,-intrin';
Right aire we were tell't by the ho-.^einaitl ■ r c::;el,

'.Sir. an' ye please, here's yer la>s ar.-'. .i !aii;cr:i.'
The town may be cU'Utit and j iere'i ti ! it mcet^.

.\' neebours lx:north and be- 'Uth with-::! l.a'.!i:i :
Brijs may be biggit owcr lun.- ai;d owcr >:rcLt>,

The NorT.och itsel' heapei! as beich :<- the ( ,)!t^n.
But wh.ar is true friendship, and. w:,.ir wv'i y u sec

X that is gude. hone-t. niodc-t. an-,: thr-.fty.'
Tak' gray hairs am! wrink'.e-. a:id hirj^x- w; ir.e.

And think on the sevenleen-hundrcd a.-.d l.;iy.

1 66

ALEXANDER AND JAMES BOSWELL ARCHIBALD BOWER.

the change described in the song just quoted. At
a subsequent period, Mr. Boswell established a
private printing-press at .\uchiiileck, from wiiich he
issued various trifles in prose and verse, some of
which are characterised by much liumour. In l8l6
appeared a poetical tale, somewhat like Bums'
Tarn o' Shanler, entitled, Skiiiion J{aui;hs, or the
SiKv is Flitted! being founded on a traditionary story-
regarding an Ayrshire feud of the fifteentii century.'
In 1S21 Mr. Boswell was honoured with what liad
been the chief object of his ambition for many years,
a baronetcy of Great Britain. About this period,
politics ran very high in the countr)', and Sir
Alexander, who had inherited all the Tory sjiirit of
his father, sided warmly with the ministry. In the
beginning of the year 1S21, a few gentlemen of
similar prepossessions conceived it to be not only
justifiable, but necessary, that the fer\'our of the
radical press, as it was called, should be met by
a corresponding fervour on the other side, so that the
enemies of the government might be combated witli
their own weapons. Hence arose a newspaper in
Edinburgh, styled the Pccicon, to which Sir .\lexander
Boswell contributed a {cwjcux d'esprit, aimed at the
leading men on the other side, and alleged to have
far exceeded the proper line of political sarcasm.
These being continued in a subsecjuent jiaper, which
was published at Glasgow, under the name of the
Senttnd, at length were traced to their author by
James Stuart, Kscj. younger of Duncarn, who had
been the object of some of the rudest attacks, and
repeatedly accused of cowardice. The consequence
of this discovery was a challenge from Mr. Stuart to
Sir .Mexander, and the hostile parties having met
near .\uchtertool in Fife, March 26, 1822, the latter
received a shot in tlie bottom of the neck, which
terminated his existence next day. Mr. Stuart was
tried for this offence, by the Higli Court of Justiciary,
but most honoural)!y acquitted. .Sir Alexander left
a widow and several children.

Jamks Boswki.I., the second son of the bio-
grapher of J(jhn.->on, was, as already mentioned,
educatel at Westminster Scho(;l. He was afterwards
entered of Brazen-nose College, and tliere had the
honour to be elected fellow upiin the \'inerian foun-
dation. Mr. Boswell ]iossessed talents of a superior
order, sound cl.assical scholarship, and a most exten-
sive and intimate knowledge of our early literature.
In the investigation of every sul)ject he pursued, his
industry, ju<lgment, and discrimination, were equally
reinarkal)le; his memory was unusually tenacious
and accurate; and he was always as ready as he was
competent, to comnuuiicate his stores of information

' Kcnnc<!y of r!.ir;;eny trtlu-reJ a s'.w on the- lands of his
feudal enemy Cniwford of Kerse. .nnd rcscjlvcd that the latter
gentleman, with all his vassals, shonld n^it he perniittcd to re-
move or "tlit" the animal. To defeat this hravado at the very
first, the adherents of Crawford a-s.;nil)!ed in f;reat force, and
entered into active fight with the Kennerlies, who, with tlieir
sow, were at length driven Uacl: with great slaughter, though
not till the son of the laird of Ker^e, who had led his father's
forces, w.xs slain. 'I'he point of the poem lies in the dialogue
which passed l>etween the old laird and a messenger who came
X>) apprise him of the event: -

"'Is the sow fiittit? tell nic, loon'
Is auld Kyle up and^Carrick d^wn?'
Mingled wi' sohs, his brol;en tale
Ihc youth lx;gan: '.'\h, Kerse, bewail
This luckless day' -^'our hlythe son, Joliii,
Ah, wae's my heart, lies on the lo.ui -
And he could sing like ony merle!'
' Is the sow flitted?' cried the carle;
'Gie me my answer short and plain, —
Is the sow flitted, yammerin wean'?'
'The sow dcil tak her 's owcr the water —
And at their hacks the (Jrawfords hatter
The Carrick couts are cowed and bitted''
'.My thumb for Jockl tjie sow is fliitki/.'

for the benefit of others. Mr. Malone was influenced
by these qualifications, added to the friendship which
he entertained for Mr. Boswell, to select him as his
literary executor; and to his care this eminent com-
mentator intnisted the publication of an enlarged
and amended edition of Shakspcare, which he had
long been meditating. x\s Mr. Malone's papers
were left in a state scarcely intelligible, it is believed
that no man but one of kindred genius, like Mr.
Boswell, could have rendered them at all available.
This, however, Mr. Boswell did in the most efficient
manner; farther enriching the work with many
excellent notes of his own, besides collating the text
with all the earlier editions. This work, indeed,
which extends to twenty-one volumes, 8vo, must be
considered as not only the most elaborate edition of
Shakspcare, but perhajis the greatest cditioji of any
work in the English language. In the first volume,
Mr. Boswell has stepped forward to defend the
literary reputation of Air. Malone against the severe
attacks made I)y a writer of distinguished eminence,
upon many of his critical opinions and statements;
a task of great delicacy, and which Mr. Bos\veIl
performed in so spirited and gentlemanly a inanncr,
that his preface may be fairly quoted as a model of
controversial writing. In the same volume are in-
serted "Memoirs of Mr. Malone," originally printed
by Mr. Boswell for private circulation ; and a valuable
essay on the metre and phraseology of Shakspeare,
the materials for which were partly collected by Mr.
Malone, but which was entirely indebted to Mr.
Boswell for arrangement and completion.

Mr. Boswell inherited from his father a keen
relish of the society of the metropolis, and accord-
ingly he s])ent his life almost exclusively in the
Middle Temple. Few men were better fitted to
appreciate and contribute to the pleasures of social
intercourse; his conversational jiowers, and the lui-
failing cheerfulness of his disposition, rendered him
everywhere an acceptable guest; but it was the
goodness of his heart, that warmth of friendship
which knew no bounds when a call was made upon
his services, which formed the sterling excellence,
and the brightest feature of Mr. Boswell's character.
This amial;le man and excellent scholar died, P'elj-
ruary 24, 1822, in the forty-third year of his age,
and was buried in the Temple church, by a numerous
train of sorrowing friends. It is a melancholy cir-
cumstance that his brother, Sir Alexander, had just
returned from performing the last offices to a beloved
brother, when he himself was summoned from ex-
istence in the manner above related.

BOWER, ARCiiiiiAi.i), a learned person, but of
dubious fame, was born on the 17th of Jaimary, 1686,
near Dundee. He was a younger son of a resj^ect-
aljle Catholic family, which, for several centuries,
had possessed an estate in Forfarshire. In 1702 he
was sent to the Scots College at Douay, wiiere he
studied for the church. At the end of the year 1 706,
having completed his first year of philoso])hy, he
went to Rome, and there, December 9, was admitted
into the order of Jesus. After his noviciate, he
tauglit classical literature and ]dii!osophy, for two
years, at Fano, and sid)se(iucntly he spent three
years at I''ermo. In 171 7 he was recalled to Rome,
to study divinity in the Roman college. His last
vows were made at Arezzo, in 1722.

Bower's fame as a teacher was now, according to
his own account, spread over all the Italian stales,
and lie had many invitations to reside in different
places, to none u{ which he acceded, till the college
of Maccrata chose him for their ]n-ofessor. He was
now arrived at the mature age of forty; and it ^\■as

ARCHIBALD BOWER.

167

not to have been expected that any sudden change,
either in his religious sentiments or in his moral
conduct, would take place after that period of life.
Probably, however, Bower had never before this
time been exposed to any temptation. Being now
appointed confessor to the nunnery of St. Catherine
at Macerata, he is alleged to have commenced a
criminal intercourse with a nun of the noble family
of Buonacorsi. Alarmed, it is said, for the conse-
quences of his imprudence, he determined upon
flying from the dominions of the Pope; a step which
involved the greatest danger, as he had previously
become connected, in the capacity of counsellor,
with the holy inquisition, which invariably punished
apostasy with death. Bower's own account of his
Ihght sets forth conscientious scruples on the score
of religion, as having alone urged him to take that
step; but it is hardly credible that a man in his
situation could expose his life to imminent danger
from a sudden access of scrupulosity. The circum-
stances of his flight are given in the following terms
by himself:

"To execute that design with some safety, I pur-
posed to beg leave of the inquisitor to visit the virgin
at Loretto, but thirteen miles distant, and to pass
a week there, but, in the meantime, to make the
best of my way to the country of the Orisons, the
nearest country to Macerata out of the reach of the
inquisition. Having, therefore, after many conflicts
with myself, asked leave to visit the neighbouring
sanctuary, and obtained it, I set out on horseback
tiie very next morning, leaving, as I purposed to
keep the horse, his full value with the owner. I
took the road to Loretto, but turned out of it at
a small di-tance from Kecenati, after a most violent
struggle with myself, tlie attempt appearing to me,
at that juncture, quite desperate and impracticable;
and the dreadful doom reserved for me, should I
miscarry, jiresenting itself to my mind in the strongest
light. But the reflection that I had it in my power
to avoid being taken alive, and a persuasion that
a man in my situation might lawfully avoid it, when
every other means failed him, at the expense of his
life, revived my staggering resolution; and all my
fears ceasing at once, I steered my course to Calvi
in the dukedom of Urbino, and from thence through
the Komagna into the Bolognese, keeping the by-
roads, and at a good distance from the cities of
Lano, Pisaro, Rimini, Lorli, Laenza, and Tivola,
through which the high-road passed. Thus I ad-
vanced very slowly, travelling, generally speaking,
in very bad roads, and often in places where there
was no road at all, to avoid, not only the cities and
towns, but even the villages. In the meantime, I
seldom iiad any other support than some coarse pro-
visions, and a very small quantity even of them, that
the poor she]iherds and wood-cleavers could spare
me. My horse fared not better than myself; but,
in choosing my sleeping-place, I consulted his con-
venience as much as my own, passing the night
where I ('>\uv\ most shelter for myself, and mo>t
grass fir him. In Italy there are verj- few solitaiy
farm-li'iu-es or cottages, the country peojile there all
living t i^^cther in villages, and I thought it far safer
Id lie where I co'.ild he anyway sheltered, than to
venture in; > any nf them. Tims I sjient seventeen
days-l)^'f'ire I got out of the cccle>ia>tical >tatc; and I
very narriwly escaped lieing taken or murdered on
t'.ie very bvirders of that state. It happened thus:

"I had pas-ed two whnle days without any kind
of sulv-i^tence wiiatevor, meeting nuhudy in tlie bv-
roads that would >uiiply me \v\xh any, and fearing to
come near anv hoiwe. .\^ I was nut far from the
border.^ of the dominion^ of the Pope, I thought I

should ])c able to hold out till I got into the Modenese,
where I believed I should be in less danger than
while I remained in the papal dominions; but finding
myself, about noon of the third day, extremely weak
and ready to faint, I came into the high road that
leads from Bologna to Plorence, at a few miles dis-
tance from the former city, and alighted at a post-
house that stood (piite by itself. Having asked the
woman of the house whether she had any victuals
ready, and being told that she had, I went to open
the door of the only ro(jm in the house (that being
a place where gentlemen only stoj) to change horses),
and saw, to my great surprise, a placard pasted on
it with a mcjst minute description of my whole
person, and the promise of a reward of 800 crowns,
about jC200 Lnglish money, for delivering me up
alive to the inquisition, being a fugitive from the holy
tribunal, and 600 crowns for my head. By the same
placard, all persons were forbidden, on pain of the
greater excommunication, to receive, harl)(jur, or
entertain me, to conceal or to screen me, or to Ix;
any way aiding or assisting to me in making my
escape. This greatly alarmed me, as the reader
may well imagine; but I was still more affrighted
when, entering the room, I saw two fellows tlrinking
there, who, fixing their eyes upon me as soon as I
came, continued looking at me verj' steadfastly. I
strove, by wiping my face, by blowing my nose, by
looking out at the window, to prevent their having
a full view of me. But one of them saying, 'Tlie
gentleman seems afraid to be seen,' I jnit up my
handkerchief, and turning to the fellow, said boldly,
'What do you mean, you rascal? Look at me, I
am not afraid to be seen.' He said nothing, Ijut,
looking again steadfastly at me, and nodding his head,
went out, and his companion immediately followed
him. I watched them, and seeing them with two or
three more in close conference, and no doubt con-
sulting whether they should apprehend me or not, I
walked that moment into the stable, mounted my
horse unoljserved by them, and, while they were
deliberating in the orcliard behind the house, rode
off at full speed, and in a few hours got into llie
Modenese, where I refreshed, l)oth with food and
rest, as I was there in no immediate danger, my
horse and myself. I \vas indeed surprised that those
fellows did not pursue me; nor can I any other way
account for it, but by supposing, what is not im-
probable, that, as they were strangers as well as
myself, and had all the appearance of banditti or
ndTians flying out of the dominions of the po]ie, the
woman of the house did not care to trust them witli
her horses."

I)Ower now directed his course through the cantons
of Switzerland, and as some of tliese districts were
Catholic, though not under the dominion of th.e
inquisition, he had occasionally to resume the mode
of travelling above described, in order to avoid l)eing
taken. At length, May 1726. he reached the Sc'it>
College at Douay, where he threw him-elf u]>on tlie
jirotection of the rector. According t-i hi> i\mi
narrative, \\hicli, however, b.a~ been cnntir.dicte'i in
many points, he thus ])ri_>ve<l tliat. tli('i:.L;li lie l;:i'l
fled 'from the horrors of the holy trlbur.-il. ar. 1 h.i 1
begun to entertain some dnulil-- I'.pun ^e\err.l ] .irtN
of the Catlmlie doctrine^, he was i^'t 1'.'.-; ^-e'l !••
abandon entirely the pr.ife— i'Mi of hi'.h in whieb !;e
had been educated. He eveii .'.e^erni.,- a e-rre^-
pondence which lie entere',1 intM witli tlie -r.j'erii r nf
his order in Fr.-ince, wlio at !on.:'h reL"ninier.':ed
him to make the l.e-t r.t'h:- w.v. ; - Ijigl.itvl. in nr.ier
that he miglit get lairly Trynl ;he :vaJi r.f the
in(lui>itioii." Thi- he d; ! uivler <:Ji ciri.uni<aiices
of renewal da:v^er, lii.it lie W'vAl li.ive '.'een det.auied

1 68

ARCHIBALD BOWER.

at Calais, but for the kindness of an English noble-
man. Lord Baltimore, who conveyed him over to
Dover in his own yacht. He arrived at London in
July or August, 1726.

His first friend of any eminence in England was
Dr. Aspinwall, who, like himself, had R)rmerly be-
longed to the order of Jesus. His conversations with
this gentleman, anil with the more celebrated Dr.
Clarke, ami Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, produced,
or appeared to produce, such a change in his religious
sentiments, that he soon after abjured the Catholic
faith. For six years he continued a Protestant, l)Ut
of no denomination. .\t length lie joined the com-
munion of the Church of England, which he professed
to consider "as free in her service as any reformed
church from the idolatrous practices and supersti-
tions of Popery, and less inclineil than many others
to fanaticism and enthusiasm." By his friends he
was recommended to Lord .Vylmer, who wanted a
person to assist him in reading the classics. While
thus employed he conducted a review or magazine,
which was startetl in 1730. under the title J/tstoria
Litcraria, and was finished in eight volumes, in 1734-
Being little acquainted with the English tongue, he
composed the early jjart of this work in Italian, and
had it translated l)y an Engiisli student; but before
the work was concluded, he had made himself suffi-
ciently actpiainted with English, to dispense with
his translator. After its conclusion, he was engaged
by the pul)li>hers of the Aiicicnt L'lii-'crsal History,
for which work he wrote during a space of nine
years, contributing, in ])articular, the article "Roman
History." It is said that the early j^art of this pro-
duction is drawn out to an undue length, considering
that there were various otlier abridgments of that
portion of the history of Rome; while the latter part,
referring to tiie E.aslern empire, tliough comparatively
novel and valuable, was, from the large space already
occujjied, cut down into as many paragraphs as it
ought to have occu])ied pages. Tlie second edition
of the Uitncrsal History was conimiltetl for revisal
to Mr. Bower's care, and it is said tiiat, though he
received £},oo from the publishers, he performed his
task, involving though it did a very large commercial
interest, in the most superficial and unsatisfactory
manner. His writings had been so ]iroductive be-
fjre the year 1740, that he then ])ossessed ;^lioo in
South .Sea annuities. It is alleged that he now
wished to he restored to the bosom of the church, in
order that he might sliare in its bounty as a mission-
ary. In order to conciliate its favour, and attest his
sincerity, he is said to have offered to it, tlirough
Father .Shirburn, then ])rovincia! of 1-^ngland, the
whole of his fortune on loan. The money was re-
ceived on the conditions stipulated by himself, and
was afterwards augmented to ^^1350, for which, in
August, 1743, a bond was given, allowing him an
annuity equal to 7 jiercent. upon the |)rinci]ia!. He
is said to have been s(j far successful in his object
tint, in 1744 or 1745, he was re-admilleil into, or
rather reconciled to tiie order of Jesus though it
does not appear that he ever received the enii>lov-
ment which he e.x|)ected. In 1747, having been
tcm])ted, l)y a considerable offer, to write a iiistory
of the ]io])es in a style agreeable to Protectant feeling,
he is alleged to have commenced a correspniideiRe'
with Father .Shirburn for the i>ur])ose of getting liack
his money, lest, on breaking again witli the cliurcii,
the whole should be forfeited. He iiretended that
he had engaged in an illicit intercourse with a ladv,
to whom the money in reality belonged, and that,
in order to disengage himself from a connection
which lay heavily up<jn his conscience, he wished to
refund tiie money. Accordingly, on the 20th of

June, 1747, he received it back. If we are to be-
lieve himself, he did not lend the money to Shirburn,
but to Mr. Hill, a Jesuit, who transacted money
affairs in his cai)acity as an attorney. He retracted
it, he said, in order to be able to marry. The letters
shown as having been written by him to Father
Shirburn, were, he said, forgeries prepared by
Catholics in order to destroy his popularity with the
Protestants. But the literary world has long settled
the question against Bower. The letters were pub-
lished in 1756 by his countryman Dr. John Douglas,
afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, along with a com-
mentary proving their authenticity. The replies of
Bower, though ingenious, are by no means satisfac-
tory, and it is obvious that the whole transaction
proves him to have been a man who little regarded
]jrinciple, when he had the jirospect of improving
his fortune.

The first volume of his History of the Po/es was
published in 1748; and he was soon after, by the
interest of Lord Lyttleton, appointed librarian to
Queen Caroline. It must be remarked that this
irreproachable nobleman remained the friend of
Bower, while all the rest of the world turned their
backs upon him; and it must be confessed, that such
a fact is calculated to stagger the faith of many even
in the acuteness of Bishop Douglas. On the 4th of
August, 1749, when he had just turned the grand
climacteric, he married a niece of Bishop Nicholson,
with a fortune oi £/^ooo. In 1751 he published his
second volume, and in 1753 his third, which
brought down the history to the death of Pope
Stej)hen. This work, partly from the circumstances
of the author, appears to have been received with
great favour by the dissenters and more devout party
of the church. Bower is alleged by his enemies to
have kept up the interest of the publication, by
stories of the danger in which he lay from the malig-
nity of the Catholics, who, as he gave out, attempted
on one occasion, to cany him off by water from
Greenwich. Lord Lyttleton, in April, 1754, aji-
pointed him clerk of the buck warrants, ll was in
1756 that his personal reputation received its first
grand shock from the exposure of Dr. Douglas, who
next year published a second tract, as fully condem-
natory of his literar}' character. This latter jiroduc-
tion, itwXWXcd Boi.c'Cr and Tillciuont compared, showed
that a great part of his History of the J'opes was
nothing more than a translation of the French his-
torian. He endeavoured to repel the attack in three
laboured, jaamphlets; but Dr. Douglas, in a reply,
confirmed his original statements by unejuestionable
documents. Before the controversy ended, I5oMcr
had issued his fourth volume, and, in 1757, an
abridgment of what was ]niblished appeared at
Amsterdam. The fifth volume a]ipeared in 1761,
during which year he also published Autlientic
Memoirs co)teernijii^ the Portuj^uese />ii/i/isitio>i, in a
Series of Letters to a Friend, 8vo. Tiic History of the
Popes was finally com])leted in seven volumes; and
on the 3d of .September, 1766, the author died at his
liouse in Bond Street, in the eighty-first year of his
age.^ He was buried in Mary-le-Bone churchyard,
wliere there is a monument to him, bearing the fol-
lowing inscription: —

"-\ man exemplary for everj' social virtue. Justly
esteemed by all who knew him for his strict honesty
and integrity. A faitliful friend and a sincere Chris-
tian.

"False witnesses rose up against him, and laid to

' A Ictlur written at the request of his widow to notify liis
death to iiis nephew in .Seotlaiid wliich I have seen , ineiitinns
that he liore a final ilhicss of three weeks "in every w.iy smt-
aljle to tlie character of a good Chribtian."

MARK BOYD.

169

liis charge things that he knew not; they imagined
wickedness in their hearts, and practised it: their
delight is in lies: they conspired together, and laid
their net to destroy him guiltless: the very abjects
came together against him, they gaped upon him
with their mouths, they sharpened their tongues like
a SL-rpeiit, working deceitfully; they compassed him
about with words of malice, and hated, and fought
against him without a cause.

"He endured their reproach with fortitude, suffer-
ing wrongfully."

"Unhappy vanity !"cxclaims Samuel Ayscough,
who preserves the inscription, "thus endeavouring,
as It were, to carry on the deception with God, which
lie was convicted of at the bar of literary justice:
how much better would it have been to let iiis name
sink in oblivion than thus attempt to excite the pity
of those only who are unacquainted with the history
of his life; and, should it raise a desire in any person
to inquire, it must turn their pity into contempt."

In Bower we contemplate a man of considerable
merit, in a literary point of view, debased by the j^e-
culiar circumstances in which he entered the world.
A traitor to his own original profession of faith, he
never could become a good subject to any other.
His subsequent life was that of an adventurer and
a hypocrite; and such at length was the dilemma in
which he involved himself by his unworthy practices,
that, for tlie purpose of extricating himself, he was
reduced to the awful expedient of denying uyton oath
the genuineness of letters which were jnoved upon
incontestable evidence to be his. Even, however,
from the evil of such a life much good may be ex-
tracted. The infamy in which his declining years
were spent must inform even those to whom good is
not gootl alone for its own sake, that the straight paths
of candour and honour are tiie only ways to happiness,
and that money or respect, momentarily enjoyed at
tlie expense of either, can produce no permanent or
effectual benefit.

BOWER, Walter, an historical writer of the
fifteentii century, was born at Haddington in 1385.
At the age of eighteen he assumed the religious habit;
and after finishing his philosophical and theological
studies, visited Paris in order to study the laws.
Having returned to his native country, he was unani-
mously elected abbot of St. Colm in the year 1418.
After the death of P^ordoun, the historian (see that
article), he was requested by Sir David Stewart of
Rossyth to undertake the completion of the Siv//-
chronuou, or Chrouklcs of Scotland, which had been
brought up by the above writer only to the 23d
chapter of the fifth book. In transcribing the part
written by Kordoun, Bower inserted large interpola-
tions. He completed the work in sixteen books,
which brought the narrative to the death of James I. ;
and he is said to have been much indebted for ma-
terials to the previous labours of Fordoun. Bower,
like Fordoun, wrote in a scholastic and barbarous
Latin; and tlieir work, though it must be considered
as one (jf the great fountains of early Scottish historv,
is charaLtcri/ed by few of the essential (jualities of
that kind of composiliim.

BOYD, Mark, an cxtraordinarv genius, who as-
sumed the additional name of .\l.i'.XAM)l'.K, from
a desire of assimilating himself to the illustrious hero
of Macedon. was a younger son of Robert Bovd
of Pinkell in .\yrshire, wiio was great-grandson
to Robert lioyd, CJreal C'hainlK-rlain of ."Scotland.
Mark Boyd was bi>rn (Ui the I3tli of January, 1562.
His father having died while he was a child, lie was
educated under the care of his uncle, James Bi.>yd of

Trochrig, titular Archbishop of Glasgow. His head-
strong temper showed itself in early youth in quarrels
with his instructors, and l>efore he had finished his
academical course, he left the care of his friends, and
endeavoured to obtain some notice at court. It
affords a dreadful ])icture of the character of Boyd,
that, even in a scene ruled by such a spirit as Stuart,
Karl of Arran, he was found too violent: one duel
and numberless broils in which he became engaged
rendered it necessary that he should try his fortune
elsewhere. By the advice of his friends, who seem
to have given up all ho])e of his coming to any good
in his own country, he travelled to France, in order
to assume the profession of arms. While lingering
at Paris he lost his little stock of money at dice.
This seems to have revived better feelings in his breast.
He began to study under various teachers at Paris;
then went to the university of Orleans, and took
lessons in civil law from Robertus; lastly, he removed
to Bourges, where he was received with kindness by
the celebrated Cujacius. This great civilian hapiien-
ing to have a crazy fondness for the writings of the
early Latin poets, Boyd gained his entire favour by
writing a few poems in the barbarous style of Lnnius.
The plague breaking out at Bourges, he was obliged
to flee to Lyons, whence he was driven Ijy the same
pestilence into Italy. After spending some time in
this country, he returned to Fiance, and is suppo>ed
to have there acted for some time as private tut(jr to
a young gentleman named Dauconet. In 1587 com-
menced the famous wars of the League. lioyd,
though a Protestant, or afterwards professing to lie
so, joined with the Catholic J^arty, in company with
his ]5upil, and for some time led the life of a .soldier
of fortune. His share in the mishaps of war con-
sisted of a wound in the ankle. In 1 588, the Ger-
mans and .Swiss being driven out of France, the
campaign terminated, and Boyd retired to Toulouse,
where he recommenced the study of civil law. His
studies were here interrupted by a popular insurrec-
tion in favour of the Catholic interest, but in which
he took no part. Having fallen under some suspi-
cion, probably on account of his country-, he was
seized by the insurgents, and thrown into ]irisnn.
By the intercession of some of his learned friends he
was relieved from this peril, and ]iermitted to make
his escape to Bordeaux. He has left a most ani-
mated account of the insurrection, from w hich it may
be gathered that the expedients assumed in more
recent periods of French history for protecting cities
by barricades, chains, and other devices, were equally
familiar in the reign of Henry the Great. For several
years Boyd lived a parti-coloured life, alternating
between study and war. He had a sincere pas.-ion
for arms, and entertained a notion that to live en-
tirely without the knowledge and practice of niilitar)"
affairs was only to be half a fuait. It is to be re-
gretted tliat his exertions as a soldier were entirely on
tlie side adverse to his own and liis country's faith —
a fact which proves how little he was actuated by
princijile. In the midst of all the bn^iK ot tl.e
League, he had advanced con>ideral)Iy in ilie ]re-
jiaration of a series of lectures on the ei\il L".\\ : 1 ut
he never found an opportunity of lieliveniii; tlKtii.
He also composed a consider.ible inmilier ot Latin
]ioems. which were jnibli.-hed in one \''.'i;me ."t
.\ntwer]i, in 1592. Having \v>\\ lurne i lr.> :li"U-l,ts
homewards, he endeavoured in \\v.- v. < :k i" a'.iiatt
the favourable attention of Janie- W.. by ,i vciy
flattering dedication, liut it '1 >e~ n..i >ecni t" I'.ave
had anyefiect. lie does imt ap; ear ti. h.ave reti;n;ed
to his n.ative country f'r .-omeyear- alter tl;;.- i-erind.
In 1595, when hi> 'elder br.ither died, lie %\a> -till
j in France. Reiurniiig soon :.iw\\ he i? ^aid to have

I70

ROBERT BOVD.

undertaken the duty of travelling preceptor to John,
Earl of Cassillis; and when his task was accomplished,
he returned once more. He died of a slow fever,
April loth, i6oi, and was buried in the church of
Daily.

Mark Alexander Boyd left several compositions
behind him, of which a few have been pui)lisiied.
The most a<imired are his Rpistolu Jfcrouium, and
his Ilymni, which are inserted in the Dduhr JWl-
ariim Scotorutit, published at Amsterdam, in 1637.
His style in Latin poetry is shown by Lord Ilailes
to be far from correct, and his ideas are often impure
and coarse. Vet when regarded as the effusions of
a soaring genius, which seems to have looked upon
every onlinary walk of human exertion as beneath
it, we may admire the general excellence, while we
overlook mean defects. "The Tears of Venus on
the Death of .\donis," which has been often extracted
from his Epistolu, is sometimes regarded as a beautiful
specimen of Latin versification, and in imj^assioned
feeling almost rivalling Pope's Kloisc. An exact
list of the remainder of his compositions, wiiich still
lie in manuscript in the Advocates' Libraiy, is given
in his life l)y Lord Hailes, which was one of the few
tcfitiimina contributed by that great antiquary towards
a Scotlisk Biop-aphical Dictionary. Lord Hailes
represents the vanity of Boyd as having been very
great; but it is obvious that he could offer as high
incense to others as to himself He has tiic har-
dihood to compliment the peaceful James VL as
superior to I'allas or Mars: in another jiiace, he
speaks of tliat mi>;iarch as having distinguislied him-
self at battles and sieges. It is well known that
neither t!ie ])raise nor tlie facts were true; and we
can only account for sucli inordinate llattery, by
supposing, wliat there is really much reason to
bL'lieve, that panegj'ric in those days was a matter
of course, and not expected to contain any truth,
or even T'nii.h-inblaiicc. This theory receives some
co\intenance from a circumstance mentioned by Lord
Hailes. The dedication, it seems, in wliich King
James was sjioken of as a hardy warrior, was ori-
ginally written for a real warrior; l)ut t!ie name being
afterwards clianged, it was not thouglit necessary to
alter the ]iraise; and so the Scottish Solomon, wiio is
-•nid to have shrunk from the very sight of cold iron,
stands fortii a-, a second Agamemnon.

BOYD, RiiBERT, of Troclirig, an eminent divine
of the sev.-nteL-nth century, was born at Glasgow in
157S. He was the son of James Boyd, "tulchan-
arehlii-.hop" of (jiasgow, and Margaret, daughter
of James Ciialmers of (iaitgirth, chief of that name.
')n tile deatli of his father, wliich happened when
he wn^ only three years <A<\. his mother retireil to
the family residence in Ayrshire, and I'oyd, along
with Thomas, his younger broth'.-r, was in due time
s;nt to the grammar->ciiool of the county town.
I-'rom tiience he was removed to the univer'-itv of
Ivlinburgh, where he studied i)liilo-ophy under .Mr.
Charles Lerme (or Fairholm), one of the regents,
and afterwardi divinity under the celebrated is.olHTt
Kollock. In compliance with the cu>tom of the
tim.'s, he then went abroad fjr llie ])iirj)ose of
pursuing his studies, and I-'rance was rle^tined to be
the fir^t --jihere of his usefulness. He tauL;ht various
departments of literature in thcchools of Tours and
Montaubrin, at the fir>t of which [ilaces he became
ac'iuainled with the famous Dr. Kiv(;t. In 16. 14
he was ordained ]iastor of the church at \erteuil.
and in 1606 he was ajipointed one of the ])rofe~^oi-,
in the university of .Saumur, which had been founded
in 1593 by the amiable I'hili]) de Mornay, better
kn(jwn by the title of Du I'les^is. Bo\d also dis-

charged the duties of a pastor in the church at the
same town, and, soon after, became professor of
divinity. As he had now the intention of remaining
for some years abroad, he bethought himself of enter-
ing into the married state, and having met with "an
honest virgin of the family of jMalivern," says Wod-
row, "he sought her parents for their consent, who,
having received a satisfactory testimonial of the
nobility of his birth, and the competency of his
estate, they easily yielded; and so he took her to
wife, with the good liking of the church and the uni-
versity, who hoped that by this means he would be
fixed among them, so as never to entertain thoughts
of returning to .Scotland to settle there." But in
this they were soon disappointed, for King James
having heard through several noblemen, relations
of Mr. Boyd, of his worth and talents, offered him
the principalship of the university of Glasgow.

The duties of principal in that college were, by
the charter of this monarch, not confined even to
those connected with that institution. He was re-
quired to teach theology on one day, and Hebrew
and Syriac the next, alternately; but this was not
all. The temporalities of the rectory and vicarage
of Govan had been annexed to it, under the condi-
tion that the principal should preach on .Sunday in
the church of that jmrish. Under these circumstances,
it could not be expected that Mr. Boyd could have
much leisure to premeditate his lectures. Wodrow
informs us that he did not read them, "but uttered
all in a continued discourse, without any hesitation,
and with as much ease and freedom of speech as the
most elocpient divine is wont to deliver his sermons
in his mother tongue." It will be remembered
that the prelections were then delivered in Latin,
and Principal Baillie, who studied under Mr. Boyd,
mentions that, at a distance of thirty years, the
tears, the solemn vows, and the ardour of the desires
]5roduced by the principal's Latin prayers, were still
fresh in his memory.'

I'^rom the assimilation wliich was then rapidly
taking place to the Episcopalian form of church
government, Mr. Boyd felt his situation peculiarly
unpleasant. He could not acquiesce in the deci-
sions of the Perth Assembly, and it could not be
expected that he would be allowed to retain his
office under any other condition than that of com-
])liance. He therefore preferred voluntarily resign-
ing his office, and retiring to liis country residence.
.Soon after this period he was ajipointed principal
of the university of Edinburgh, and one of the
ministers of that city; but there he was not long
allowed to remain. His majesty in>isted upon his
compliance with the Perth articles, and nn intima-
tion to -that effect having been made to him, he
refused, and, to use the (juaint expression of the
historian, "swa took his leave of them." He was
now ordered to confine himself within the bounds of
Carrick. His last appointment was to Paisley, but
a ([uarrel soon occurred with the widow of the ICarl
of .Miercorn, who had lately turned Papist, and this
was a source of new distress to him. Naturally of
a weakly constitution, and worn down by a series of
misfortunes, he now laboured under a coniplicaticm
of diseases, which led to his death at I'dinburgli,
whither he had gone to consult the ]diysicians, on
the 5tli of January, 1627, in the 49th year f>f his age.

< )f his works, few f)f which are jirinted, the largest
and liest known is his Pi-ic/cYtivtii's hi I-'.pislolam ad
l-'.phi-::ios. h'rfnn tlie circumstances which occurred
in the latter part of his life, he was jirevented getting
it ]irinte-d as he intended. After his death a cojiy

' l\''iu r>ii:Uxtio7u-s in J'/ist. ad I'.f'hcs. Prufai. ad Lcctorcjn.

ZACIIARY BOYD.

171

of the MS. was sent to Dr. Rivet, who agreed with
Chouet of Geneva for the printing, but when return-
ing to that place witii the .MS. in his possession, the
ship was taken by the Dunkirkers, and the work
was seized hy some Jesuits, who would part with it
"nee prece nee pretio." Fortunately the original
still remained, and it was, after many delays, printed
'•Impensis Societatis Stationariorum," in 1652, folio.
To the work is prefixed a memoir of the author, by
Dr. Rivet; but as their acquaintance did not com-
mence till 1598 or 1599, there are several errors in
his account of the earlier part of Boyd's life, all of
which Wodrow has with great industry and accuracy
corrected. The only other prose work of .Mr. Boyd
ever published, is his Monita Je Filii sui Primogeniti
/nstittilione, ex Author is MSS. Auto:^raphts per
A'{o/>er/ttm) S(M,i/J}, A/./)., eJtta, Svo.'ijoi. The
style of this work, according to Wodrow, is pure,
t!ie system perspicuous; and prudence, observation,
and piety appear throughout. Besides these, the
Hccatomhe ad Christum, the ode to Dr. Sibbald, and
the laudatory poem on King James, are in print.
The two first are j^rinted in the Deliciu- Poetarum
Scotortim. The ILratombe has been reprintetl at
Edinburgh in 1 701, and subsequently in the Podarum
Scotorutn AIiiscz Sacm. The verses to King James
have been printed in Adamson's Muses' Welcome;
and it is remarkable that it seems to have been
altogether overlooked Ijy Wodrow. All these poems
justify the opinion tiiat, had Boyd devoted more of
his attention to the composition of Latin poetry, he
might have excelled in that elegant accomplishment.
In the time of Wodrow several M.SS. still rc-
niiined in the possession of the family of Trochrig,
consisting of Sermons in Etii^lish and French, his
Philotheca, a kind of obituary, extracts from which
have lately been printed in the second part of the
MisceUiinv of the Bannatyne Club. His life has
been written at great length by the venerable historian
of the suiTerings of the Scottish Church, already
frequently quoted. Those who wish to know more
of this learned man than the limits of our work will
pjrmit, are referred to the very interesting series of
the Wodrow biographies in the library of the uni-
versity of Glasgow — article "Boyd."

BOYD, Zacuary, an eminent divine and religious
writer of the seventeenth century, was born before
liie year 1590, and was descended from the family
(jf the Boyds of Pinkell, in Carrick (.\yrshire). He
was cousin to Mr. .\ndrew Boyil, Bishop of Argyle.
and Mr. Roliert Boyd of Trochrig, the subject of
the preceding memoir. He received the rudiments
of his education at the scliool of Kilmarnock, and
]>a-so'l through an academical course in the college
of (ila-ig.nv. About the year 1607 he had finished
hi-< studie-; in his native country. He then went
abroad, and studied at the college of Saumur in
France, under his relation Robert Boyd. He was
aji;i.)inted a regent in this university, in 1611, and is
>aid to have been offered the principalship, which
he declined. According to his own statement, he
spent sixteen years in France, during four of which
he was a preacher of the gos]iel. In consequence
ol the jiersecution of the Protestants he was obliged,
in 1621, 1 1 return to his native countrv. He re-
lates, in one of his >crmons, the f illowing anecd<:ite
of the v.iyage: — "In the time of the French perse-
cution I came by >ea to Flanilers, and as I was
sailing from I-'landers to Scotland a fearful tempest
arose, which made our mariners reele to and fro, and
-stagger like drunken men. In the meantime, there
was a Scots Papist who lay near mee. While t!:e
sliip gave a great shake, 1 oi)-erved tlie raan, ar.J

after the Lord had sent a calmc, I said to him, 'Sir,
now ye see the weaknesse of your religion; as long
as yee are in pros])eritie, yee cry to this sainct and
that sainct: in our great danger I heard yee cry
often, Lord, Lord; but not a word yee spake of our
Lady.'" On his reaching Scotland, he further
infonns us that he "remained a space a jirivate man
at Edinburgh, with Doctor Sibbald, the glory and
honour of all the physitians of our land." After-
wards he lived successively under the protection of
Sir William Scott of Elie', and of the Marquis of
Hamilton and his lady at Kinneil; it being then the
fashion for pious persons of quality in Scotland to
retain one clergyman at least, as a member of the r
household. In 1623 he was apjiointed minister of
the large district in the suburbs of (dasgow, styled
the Barony parish, for which the crypts lH,neath' the
cathedral church then served as a place of worship;
a scene well fitted by its sepulchral gloom to add to
the impressiveness of his Calvinistic eloquence. In
this charge he continued all the remainder of his
life. In the years 1634-35 ^"'1 45 l^c filled the
office of rector of the university of Glasgow — an
office which appears from its constituency to have
then been very honourable.

In 1629 Mr. Zachar)- — to use the common mo'le
of designating a clergyman in that age — published
his principal prose work, ''''The Last Battell of tlic
Soule in Death; whereby are shown the diverse
skirmishes that are between the soule of man on his
death-bed, and the enemies of our salvation, care-
fully digested for the comfort of the sicke, by iJcc.
Printed at Edinburgh for the heires of Andro Hart."
This is one of the few pious works, not of a contro-
versial nature, produced by the Scottish church
before a very recent period; and it is by no means
the meanest in the list. It is of a dramatic, or, at
least, a conversational form ; and the drainatis
f-ersontr, such as, "Pastour, Sicke Man, Siiirituall
Friend, Carnal Friend, Sathan, Michael," iS;c., sus-
tain their parts with such spirit as to show, in con-
nection with his other works of the like nature, that
he might have excelled in a department of profane
literature, for which, no doubt, he entertained the
greatest horror, namely, writing for the stage. The
first volume of the work is dclicated, in an I-higli>h
address, to King Charles I., and then in a French
one, to his consort Henrietta Maria. It says much
for the dexterity of Mr. Zachar}-, that he inscribes a
religious work to a Catholic princess, without any
painful reference to her own unpojuilar faith. He
dedicates the second volume to the electrcss pala-
tine, daughter of James VL, and adds a short piece,
which he styles her Lajuentations for the dea'.h of
her Son, who was drowned while crossing in a ferry-
boat to Amsterdam. Tl-.e extravagant grief ^\!i!c!l
he describes in this little work is higlily nnii:--irg.
It strikes him that the electress mu>t have conceive!
a violent anti]iathy to water, in consequence "( the
mode of her son's death, and he therefore makes her
conclude her lamentations in the following siiain: —

"O cursed water.-.' O waters of Marah, fi:!! bitter
are yee to mel O element which nf all oilier- ~]]:':l
be most detestable to my soule, / s'':i:./ nc-er :.,.•.':■
n:ine hands icith thee, i'ut I shall rerrni'er :. '!,;/ .- . :i
hast done to my I'estd'elTed sonne. the .iniiiig ■ :" niy
soul: I shall'for erer he a fnend t.' !r:r:\ r ''■■ h .'.-
ikv , greatest foe. .\ way river-! away -^.:-.' let ir.e
see vou no more. It yee %\ere -e:;-;; .e cre.',ti::\ -,
my dear brother Charles. 1 rirce o! t:.e li: i'] vr.n
seas, -hould -cour-e you witli h;- r-v.-l sh;!-; :.::■!
his thuKiler:!!.^ eauKons 1:0 S':.:i.-' ,'.:''"ei' ■...•< to t'.e
bottom.

"O seas of sorrov..s. ( 1 {■,zr:v.'.l y. ie-. ' > \ .■.:\b-

ZACHARY BOYD.

ling tempests, O wilfull waves, O swelling surges,
O wicked waters, O ciooleful deepes, O peartest
pooles, O botchful butcher boates, was there no
mercy anion^ you for such an hopefuU prince? O
tliat I could refraine from teares, and t/ui/ hvaiist-
they are salt like yourselves T^ &:c.

Childish as this language is in spirit, it is perhaps
in as good taste as most of the elegies j>roduced
either by this or by a later age.

Mr. Zachary apjiears to have been naturally a
high loyalist. In 1633. when Charles I. visited his
native dominions to go through the ceremony of
his coronation, Mr. Zachary met him, the day after
tliat solemnity, in the porch of Ilolyrood I'alace,
and addressed him in a Latin oration, couched in
the mjst exalted strains of panegyric and affection.
lie afterwards testified this feeling under circum-
stances more a])t to test its sincerity. When the
attempt to impose tlie Episcopal mode of worship
upon .Scotland caused the majority of the people to
unite in a covenant for tlie purpose of maintaining
the former system, all who were connected witli
Glasgow College, together with .Mr. Zacliary, set
t'.iemselves against the document, because, altliough
well meant and urgently necessary, it was feared that it
might become a stumbling-block in the subsequent
proceedings of the country. Tliese divines resolved
rather to yield a little to tlie wishes of their sovereign,
tiian fly into ojjcn rebellion against him. Air.
Robert Haillie ]iaid them a visit to induce them to
subscribe the covenant, but was not successful; "we
left them," says he, "resolved to celebrate the com-
munion on I'asch in the High Church, kneelin^^."
This must have been about a montli after the sub-
scription of the covenant had commenced. Soon
afterwards, most of tliese recusants, including Mr.
Zachary, found it necessary to conform to the national
movement. Haillie says, in a subsequent letter:
"At our townsmen's desire, Mr. Andrew Cant and
Mr. J. Kutlierford were sent by tlie nobles to preach
in the High Kirk, and receive the oatlis of that
people to the covenant. Loixl EgliiUoune was
apjjointed to be a witness tliere. With many a sigh
and tear, by all that people the oath was made.
I'rovost, bailies, council, all exce])t three men, held
up their hands; Mr. Zacharias, and Mr. John Bell,
younger, has put to tlieir hands. The C(jllege, it is
thought, will subscribe, and almost all who refused
bel'ore."

Though Boyd was henceforth a faithful adherent
of this famous bond, he did not take the same active
share with some of his brelliren in the military ]iro-
ceedings by wliich it was su]ip'jrle(l. Wliile Baillie
ancl otiicrs f flowed the army, "as the fasliion was,
with a sword and ])air of Dutch ])ist(>ls at tlieir
saddles,"' he remained at home in the ])eaceful exer-
cise of his calling, and was content to synipalhi/.e in
their successes by hearsay. He celebrated the fight
at Newljurnford, .August 2S, 1640, by which the
Scottish covenanting army gained ])ossession of New-
castle, in a ])ocm <jf sixteen 8vo images, wliich is
written, however, in such a homely style of \ersifica-
tion, that we would sui)])0se it to be among the very
earliest of his jioetical efforts. It ojiens with a
panegyric on the victorious Leslie, and tlien proceeds
to describe the battle.

"Ihc Scots cinnon". nowlcr an'i ln!l I'i'! ".pew,
Which with terror tlic C.iiit'Tl)iirl;ins ■~V:v;.
TlaU rushed at raiulom, whii li most fearfully
Menaced to break the portals of the sky.

In this conflict, which w.as tmth sowre and surly,
I'oncs, blood, and braines went in a hurly-buriy.
All «as made kfld):f-pm1i;c" ^'cc.

The pistol-bullets were almost as bad as the cannon-
balls. They—

- in squadrons came, like fire and thunder,

' liaillie'S Le/tcrs, i. 174.

Men's hearts and heads both for to pierce and plunder;
Their errand w.-is (when it was understood).
To bathe men's bosoms in a scarlet flood."

At last comes the wail for the fallen^

" In this conflict, which was a great pitie,
We lost the son of Sir Patrick Makgie."

In 1643 he published a more useful work in his
Crosses, Comforts, and Couiicels, needfull to he con-
sidered and carefully to be laid up in the Hearts of the
Godly, in these Boysterous Broilcs, and Bloody 7imcs.
We also find from the titles of many of his manuscript
discourses, that, ^\■ith a diligent and affectionate zeal
for the spiritual edification of the people under his
charge, he had improved the remarkable events of
the time as they successively occurred.

That the reluctance of Mr. Zachary to join the
Covenanters did not arise from timidity of nature,
seems to be proved by an incident which occurred
at a later period of his life. After the death of
Charles I. it is well known that the Scottish Presby-
terians made a gallant effort to sustain the royal
authority against the triumphant party of Indepen-
dents. They invited home the son of the late king,
and rendered him at least the limited monarch of
Scotland. Cromwell, having crossed the Tweed
with an army, overthrew the Scottish forces at
Dunbar, September 3, 1650; ancl gained possession
of the southern portion of the country. Glasgow
was, of course, exposed to a visit from this unscrupu-
lous adversary. "Cromwell," says Baillie, "with the
wliole body of his army, comes peaceably to Glasgow.
The magistrates and ministers all fled away; 1 got
to the Isle of Cumray, with my Lady Monlgomeiy,
but left all my family and goods to Cromwell's
courtesy, which indeed was great, for he took such
measures with the soldiers, that they did less dis-
pleasure at Glasgow than if they had been at London,
though Air. Zachary Boyd railed on them all to their
very face in the High Church." This ^\•as on the
13th of October, and we learn from a manuscript
note upon the preacher's own Bible, that the chajiter
which he expounded on this occasion was Dan. viii.
In this is detailed the vision of the ram with two
horns, which is at first powerful, but at length over-
come and tram]iled down by a he-goat; being an
allegory of the destruction of the kings of Media and
Persia by Alexander of Macedon. It is evident that
Mr. Zachary endeavoured to extend the jiarable to
existing circumstances, and of course made out
Cromwell to be the he-goat. The preacher further
chose for a text the following passage in the Psalms:
- — "But I as a deaf man heard not; and I was as a
dumb man that openeth not his mouth. Thus I was
as a man that hearelh not, and in ^\■hose mouth are
no re]iroofs. l'"or in thee, () LonI, do I hope: thou
wilt hear, O Lord my (iod" (Ps. xxxviii. 13 15).
This sermon was probably by no means faithful to
its text, for certainly Mr. Zachary was not the man
to kee]) a mouth clear of reproofs when he saw ccca-
sion for blame. The exposition, at least, was so lull
of bitter allusions to the sectarian general, that one
of his officers is reported to have wliis]iere<l into his
ear for i)ermission "to pistol the scoundrel." Crom-
well had more humanity and good sense than to
accede to such a request. "No, no," said he; "we
\\\\\ manage him in another way." He aske 1 Mr.
Zachary to dine with him, ami gained his re-
spect by the fervour of the devotions in whith he
sj.ent the evening. It is said that they did not

ZACHARY BOYD.

173

finish their mutual exercise till three in the mom-

Mr. Zachar\' did not long sur\'ive this incident.
He died alwu't the end of the year 1653, or the
be^^inning of 1654, when the famous Mr. Donald
Carj,dll was appointed his successor. "In the con-
scientious disciiarjje of his duty as a preacher of God's
word, which lie had at the same time exercised with
humility, he seems, whether in danger or out of it, to
have been animated with a heroic firmness. In a
mind such as his, so richly stored with the noble
examples furnished by sacred history, and with such
a deep sense of the responsibility attached to his
office, we are j^repared to ex])ect the same consis-
tency of principle, and decision of conduct in ad-
monishing men, even of the most exalted rank.

. . We have every reason to suppose that the
tenor of his conduct in life became the high office of
which he made profession. From the sternness with
which he censures manners and customs prevalent in
society, the confjrming to many of which could incur
no moral guilt, it is to be presumed that he was of
the most rigid and austere class of divines.
We are ignorant of any of the circumstances attend-
ing his last moments, a time peculiarly interesting in
the life of every man; but from what we know of
him, we may venture to say, without the hazard of
an erroneous conclusion, that his state of mind at
the trying hour was that of a firm and cheerful ex-
pectation in the belief in the great doctrines of Chris-
tianity which he had so earnestly inculcated, both
from the pulpit and the press, with the additional
comfort anil support of a long and laborious life in
his Master's service. About twenty-five years before
his death, he was so near the verge of the grave,
that his friends had made the necessary preparation
for his winding-sheet, which he afterwards found
among his books. He seems to have recovered from
the disease with a renewed determination to employ
the remainder of his life in the cause to which he had
been previously devoted: he pursued perseveringly
to near its termination this happy course, and just
lived to complete an extensive manuscript work,
bearing for its title TJie Notable Places of the Scrip-
ture Expounded, at the end of w^hich he acids, in a
tremulous and indistinct handwriting, "Ileere the
author was neere his end, and was able to do no
more, March 3d, 1653."-

Mr. Zachary had been twice married, first to
Elizalieth Fleming, of whom no memorial is pre-
served, and secondly, to Margaret Mure, third
daughter of William Mure of Glanderston (near
Neilston, Renfrewshire). By neither of his wives
had lie any offspring. The second wife, surviving him,
marrie 1 for her second husband the celebrated Dur-
ham, author of the Com/nentary on the Revelation —
to wh )m, it would appear, she had betrayed some
p.iniality even in b.er lirst husband's lifetime. There
is a traditional anecdote, that, when Mr. Zachary
was ilictatiug his last will, his spouse matle one
nioilc>t requot, namely, that he would bequeath
something to Mr. Durham. He answered, v.ith a
sarcastic reference to herself, "I'll lea' him what I
caniia keep trae him."' lie seems to have possessed

1 The .iccur.ue edit <x nf .1 now c.lition (if The Last Battclt
cf t/'w Si'iite ^;l.^s^•.)^v, iS-,i , fr >ni whii>e niemoir cf Mr.
Zicliary mist of thci^^- f\ct^ ,irc t,-iken. t)I.Tmos Mr. Iniillie, in
my (ipini'Mi unj'.;-.'l\-. fir h.ivitii; ticl on this decision, while
Mr. /ich.irv hi 1 t!;'- superior cuir.iije to remain. It should
he recollected th it Mr. 1! liHie h.id p.irticul.ir reason to ijreavl
the venije.inco of Cromwell and his army, haviii>; Iven one i>f
t!ie principal indivi'iuals concerned in the iiruiviiivj; h-nne of
the king, and con^C'iuently in the provocation of the present
war.

- r.ifc prcfi.\eJ to new edition of 'f/u- Last Battcit 0/ tr.c
Soulf.

an astonishingquantityof worldly goods for a Scottish
clergyman of that period. He had lent li,cxx)merks
to Mure of Kowallan, 5000 to the Farl of Glencairn,
and 6000 to the Farl of Loudon; which sums, with
various others, swelled his whole property in money
to ;i^4527. This, after the deduction of certain
expenses, was divided, in terms of his will, Ixtween
his relict and the college <jf Gla.sgow. Alxmt
,;i/;'20,cxx) .Scots is said to have l)een the sum realized
by the college, besides his library and manuscript
compositions; but it is a mistake that he made any
.stipulation as to the j)ublication of his writings, or
any part of them. To this splendid legacy we
appear to be chiefly indeljted for the present elegant
buildings of the college, which were mostly erected
under the care of I'rincijJal Gillespie during the
period of the Commonwealth. In gratitude for the
munificent gift of Mr. Zachary, a bust of his figure
was erected over the gateway within the court, with
an appropriate inscription. There is also a portrait
of him in the divinity hall of the college. Nineteen
works, chiefly devotional and religious, and none of
them of great extent, were published by Mr. Zachary
during his lifetime; but these bore a small proportion
to his manuscript writings, which are no less than
eighty-six in number, chiefly comprised within thir-
teen quarto volumes, written in a very close hand,
a])parently for the press. Besides those contained in
tlie thirteen volumes, are three others — Zion''s Flau-ers,
or Christian Poems for Spiritual Edification, 2 vols.
4to; The English Academic, containnv^ Precepts and
Purpose for the Weal both of Soul and Body, i vol.
i2mo; and 7 he Four Eva niseis in English l\rse.

"Mr. Boyd appears to have been a scholar of very
considerable learning. He composed in Latin, and
his qualifications in that language may be deemed
respectable. Flis works also bear the evidence of
his having been possessed of a critical knowledge of
the Greek, Hebrew, and otiier languages. As a
prose writer, he will bear comparison with any of
the .Scottish divines of the same age. He is superior
to Rutherford, and, in general, more grammatically
correct than even Baillie himself, who was justly
esteemed a very learned man. His style may he
considered excellent for the period. Uf his char-
acteristics as a writer, his originality of thought is
particularly striking. He discusses many of his
subjects with spirit and ingenuity, and there is much
whicli must be acknowledged as flowing from a
vigorous intellect, and a fervid and poetical imagina-
tion. . . . We have now to notice Mr. Bcyd
in the character in which he has hitherto been be^t
known to the world, namely, in that of a poet. (,)r.e
of his most popular attempts to render hini>cl!
serviceable to his country was in preparing a poetical
version of the l)onk of Psalms for the use oi tiie
church. It had been previous to 1646 tliat lie
engaged in this, as the Assembly of 1647, wl'.cn
a]>pointing a committee to examine l\.ou> > vei>o>i\
which hatl been transmitted to them h\ the As^cn^^'y
at Westminster, 'recommended them to avail tl'.cr.i-
selves of the psalter of Rowallan, and o( Mr. Zacl.ary
Boyd, and of any other poetical writei-. It :s
further ]iarticularly recommended to Mr. Zacl.avy
Boyd to translate the other Scriptural ^o!.-~ \\\ mc'.re.
and to report his travails therein to the coninii— ; -!!_
of that Assembly: that after their examination tlicic-t
they may send the same to t:;c i'ic-;in ui;c> to i ■_•
there con>idered imtil t!;e v.v
[Assem/'ly Acts, Aug. 2S, 10.:
]died with this reo,uest. a~ tli
1648, 'reconimend> to Mr. ]•
Thomas (,'rawfurd to rcvi-c
Zachary Boyd upon the oti;er b

(.cncral A^
1 Mr. I'.-'

A"cm:d;.

, .\u-. 10.

1 .\dani>'

:i and Mr.

!;e lah.'U

■, of Mr.

bcri; lure

.0:.-, and

1/4

ZACHARY BOVD.

to prepare a report thereof to the said com'iiission
for public affairs,' who, it is probable, had never
given in any 'report of their labours.' Of his
version Baillie had not entertained a high opinion,
as he says, 'Our good friend, Mr. Zachary Boyd,
has put himself to a great deal of pains and charges
to make a ps:ilter. but I ever warned him his ho]ies
were groundless to get it received in our churches,
yet the llatteries of his unadvised neighbours makes
him insist in his fruitless design.' There seems to
have been a party who did not undervalue Mr.
Boyd's labours quite so much as Baillie, and who,
if possible, were determined to carry their point, as,
according to Baillie's statement, 'the Psalms were
often revised, and sent to |iresbyteries,' and, 'had
it not been for some who had more regard than
needed to Mr. Zachary Boyd's jisalter, I think they
(A'lV/j'j -■crsion) had passed through in the end of
last Assembly; but these, with almost all the refer-
ences from the former Assemblies, were remitted to
the next.' On 23d November, 1649, Rous's version,
revised and imjiroved, was sanctioned ])y the com-
mission with authority of ti>e Oeneral Assembly, and
any other discharged from being used in the churches,
or its families. Mr. Boyd was thus deprived of the
honour to which he asj^ired with some degree of zeal,
and it must have been to himself and friends a source
of considerable disappointment.

"Among other works, he produced two volumes,
under the title of Ztotis FUm^-rs, or Christian Poems
for Spiritual lu/.jioation, and it is these which are
usually shown as his luMc, and have received that
designation. These volumes consist of a collection
of poems on select subjects in Scripture history, such
as that of 'Josiah,' 'fephtha,' 'David and Goliath,'
<i:c., rendered into the liramatic form, in which vari-
ous 'speakers' are introduced, and where the pro-
minent facts of the Scripture narrative are brought
forward, and amplified. We have a pretty close
parallel to these pc^ems in the Aticicjit Mysteries of
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and in the
sacred dramas of some modern writers."

The preceding criticism and facts which we have
taken the lil)erty to borrow from Mr. Neil,' form an
able and judicious defence of the memory cjf this dis-
tinguishefl man. As some curiosity, however, may
rea>onal>Iy be entertained respecting comjjositions
which excited so much vulgar and ridiculous mis-
representation, we shall make no a]iology fur intro-
ducing some specimens of Mr. Boyd's ])oetry — both
of that kind wliich seems to have l)een (iictated when
liis I'ega-us was careering tiirough "the highest
heaven of invention," and of that other sort which
would api)ear to have been onceived while the
sicred charger was cantering upon the mean scjil of
this nether world, wliich it sonietinies did, I must
confe->s. Very much after the manner of the most
onlinar.- be:i>t of bunleii. The foMowiiig "Morning
Hymn fir Christ," selected fioin liis woik entitled
The l-.i!^!::h Aeiu!emu\ will scarcely fail to convey
a respectf\il improsion of the writer: —

" t) I).iys[jriin; frnm on \\v^\,
C.iuv'.- pa-.-, .'r.v.iy ''Ur tii.;!;t;
Clu.ir first our niorniiit; ^1. y,
Aii'l .-iflcr sliiric ill. 11 i.n^h.t.

■■r)f li-tits th'.u art th«! I.i,;!it,
Of ri.jhtL-.usn.j-., \\v: Sun;
'I'hy licarns t!i';y .irr i;iost l»ri.;ht,
■Jhrouxh all tho w^.rl 1 tlicy run.

"Th? (lay tlvv.i ha^t \,'-iv.x\
TliKU wilt it cIcar'-T make;
\Vr lu.jx; to s'l'j thi-. Swn
IIii;h in our zo'liak.

' Li f'- r^f Zachary /inrd. prcfi.vcd to the new eJiti.iii of
/.usi UattcU o/l/te Saute.

"O m.ike thy morning dew
To f.ill without all cease;
Do thou such favour show
As unto Gideon's fleece.

"O do thou never cease

To make that dew to fall —
The dew of grace and peace,
And joys celestial.

"This morning we do call
Upon thy name divine,
That thou among us all
Cause thine Aurora shine.

" Let shadows all decline.
And wholly p.ass away,
That light which is divine,
May bring to us our day:

" A day to shine for aye,

A day that is most bright,
A day that never may
V,c fotto'cucd with a night.

"O. of all lights the light,

The Light that is most true,
Now banish thou our night,
And still our light renew.

" Thy face now to us show
O Son of God most dear;
O Morning-star, most true,
Make thou our darkness clear.

"Nothing at all is here,

That with thee may compare;
O unto us draw near,
And us thy children spare!

"Thy mercies they are rare,
If they were understood;
Wrath due to us thou bare.
And for us shed thy blood.

" Like beasts they are most rude,
Whom reason cannot move —
Thou most perfytcly good,
Entirely for to love.

"Us make mind things above,
Even things that most excel;
Of thine untainted love,
Give us the sacred seal.

"O that we light could see
Tliat shinelh in thy face!
So at the last should we
From glory go to grace.

"Within thy sacred place
Is only true content,
When God's seen face to face,
Above the firmament.

"O that our hours were spent
Among the sons of men,
To praise tlie Omnipotent,
Amen, yea, and Amen I"

The ludicrous passages are not many in number.
The following is one which Pennant first presented
to the world; being the soliloquy of Jonali within
the whale's belly ; taken from 'J7ic Fiozoers of
Zion: —

"Here apprehended I in prison ly;
What goods will nuisom my cajitivity?
What house is this, where's neither coal nor candle,
Where I nothing but guts of fishes handle?
1 and my table are both here within.
Where day iieere dawned, where simne did never shine:
The like of this 011 earth man never saw,
A living man within a monster's maw.
I'uried under mounlains which are higli and steep,
Plunged under waters hundreth fathoms dec]).
Not so was Noah in his house of tree,
For through .a window he the light did sec;
Hee sailed above the highest waves; -a wonder,
1 and my lioat are all the waters under;
Jlee in his ark might goe and also come,
Hut I sit still ill such ;i straitened roome
As is most uncouth, he.ad and feet together,
Among such grease as would a thousand smotlier.
I find no way now for my shrinking hence,
I'.iit heere to lie and die for mine onVncc.
Kiglit l)ri^oncrs were in Noah's hulk together,
( onifortable they were, each one to other:
In all the e:irth like unto mee is none,
l-'ar from all living, 1 heere lye alone,
Where I entombed in melancholy sink,
Cho.ikt, sulTocat," &c.

SIR THOMAS MACDOUGALL BRISBANE.

175

And it is stran_:;e tliat, immediately after this gro-
tesque descriptiDii of his situation, Pegasus again
ascends, and Jonaii b jgins a prayer to God, conceived
in a fine strain of devotion.

BRISBANE, General Sir Thomas Mac-
vovc.M.L, Bart., G.C.B., &c. This gallant soldier
and talented astronomer was bom, we believe, in 1773.
His ancestors were the Brisbanes of Bishopton, a
family of note in their day, whose possessions extended
in the fourteenth century from Krskine P'erry, on the
Clyde, to Largs; and one of them, William 15risbane,
according to Lord Ilailes, held in 1332 the high
office of chancellor of the kingdom of Scotland.
In 1789, Sir Thomas entered the army with the
rank of ensign, in the 38th infantry, then stationed
in Ireland, and on joining his regiment he was so
fortunate as to form an intimate acquaintance with
the future Duke of Wellington, at that time unknown
to fame, and a young lieutenant in a regiment of
cavalry. When the war broke out in 1793, Sir
Thomas raised an independent company in Glasgow,
with whicli he joined the 53d at Edinburgh, with
the rank of captain; and as this regiment formed
part of the army of the Uuke of York, .Sir Thomas
shared in all tlie battles, reverses, and hardships of
that distinguished campaign. This was especially
the case at the engagement of Lille, where he was
not only himself severely wounded, but had twenty-
two men killed and wounded out of the thirty-three
composing his company.

In the spring of 1795 Sir Thomas Brisbane re-
turned to England witli his regiment, in wiiich he
had obtained a majority by purchase, and embarked
in the expedition to the West Indies under .Sir Ralph
Al)ercrombie. Among the other gallant exploits of
the young ni.ajor in the West India campaign of 1796,
one of them is particularly commemorated. Being
ordered to attack a fort which was generally supposed
to be all but impregnable, he was met on his march
by a brotlier officer, who, on learning the nature
of his expedition, bewailed its rashness, and repre-
sented that the fort could not be taken. " It ran be
taken," replied the otiier hopefully; " for I have tlie
order in my pocket." However veterans might
smile at this confidence and the cause that inspired
it, .Sir Thomas was successful, and the fort was
captured. He was also at the reduction of .St.
Lucia, the siege of Morne- Fortune, the encounters
of Chalcot, Castries, and Vigie; and in the reduc-
tion of the island of St. Vincent, and during the
whole of tlie Caribean warfare.

His health having suffered from the West India
climate, the friends of Sir Thomas purchased for him
tlie colonelcy of the 69th regiment, which had just
returned from the West Indies; but on arriving in
England, in 1799, he found th.at the regiment had
been unexpectedly sent back to its old quarters.
Having recruited his health as hastily as he could,
he returned to Jamaica; and, taught by his own ex-
perience, he paitl there such attention to the health
of his men, that on the return of the regiment to
England in 1S02, only one invalid was let"t behind.
On the regiment being ordered to India, .sir
Thomas, in cnn>eqnence of a severe liver complaint,
endeavoured to obtain an exchange into the guards
or the cavalry, l)ut being iinal)le to effect it, he was
ol)liged fir a time to retire ujxon half-pay. In
iSlO he was appointel a--i-tant adjutant-general
to the staff at Canterhuiy, until he wa^ promoted to
tlie commancl of a briga.ie under the Duke of Wel-
lington, whom he joined at Coimhra in 1S12. He
accompanied tlie army during the whole of the event-
ful war in the Peninsula, and a^ his brigade formed

a part of Picton's fighting division, Sir Thomas
found no lack of military service or personal danger
during the whole campaign. His gallant services,
however, in its memorable engagements, were
crowned with clasps of distinction and parliamentary
thanks, and when the war was removed into France,
he was present at the battles of Orthesand Toulouse.
After the abdication of Napoleon, Sir Thomas was
sent to North America, and at the unfortunate affair
on Lake Champignon he was ordered to cover the
retreat, whicii he effectually accomjdished without
loss, by the destruction of the bridge across the Dead
Creek. The value of his services in this disastrous
campaign in North America was atteste<l by the
grand cross of the Bath, which was conferred upon
him by government.

The escape of Napoleon from Elba occasioned
the recall of Sir Thomas and his brigade from
America, and he arrived off the coast of France with
twelve regiments, comprising about lo.cxx) men; but
they were too late to participate in the glories of
Waterloo. The appearance of such a powerful con-
tingent, on being reviewed before the Duke of Wel-
lington, drew from him the exclamation, "Had I
had these regiments at Waterloo, I should not have
wanted the Prussians." Sir Thomas remained in
France with the army of occupation until lSl8, and
his scientific attainments being appreciated, he was
during this sojourn in Paris unanimously elected a
corresponding member of the Institute of France.
On his return, he in 1S19 married Anna Maria, only
daughter of .Sir Henry Hay Macdougall, the repre-
sentative of a very ancient .Scottish family, on whose
death he succeeded, in right of his wife, to valuable
estates, and assumed the name of Macdougall pre-
fixed to his own surname. In 1S20 he was ap-
pointed to the staff in Ireland, where he commanded
the Munster district until the following year, when,
by the recommendation of the Duke of Wellington,
he was ap]3ointed governor of New South Wales.

The period of his soldier-life was ended, but a
new and more difficult one had commenced. He
was now the governor of a penal settlement contain-
ing a population of about 38,000 souls bond and
free, but in which the convict population rather ]ire-
dominated, and where, from the nature of such a
people, all the vices of an impaired state of society
were to be found, with few of its redeeming virtue?.
To such materials our militar)- olTicers \\ere ac-
customed, where their regiments were chieily com-
posed of the dissolutely idle and the emptying? 1 f
our prisons; and government, that saw how >uch un-
promising materials were manufactured into brave,
obedient, and orderly soldiers, hoped fur a similar
result in their selection of militars- governors to n;le
the convict colony. But they forgot that tliis could
only be accomjdished by placing tlie pojnilati' n
umler martial law, and in vesting the governor w/.h
an arbitrary and irresponsible militan.- p...wer to
reward and punish. The bond and free, tnor.gb. al-
ways at war with each otlier, were at one in lir.t:;' ,'
andopjiosing their ruler; and from t he. l/..\7;<,' -('/.-.•'•.', .-
ism which was jiermitted to New Soulli \\ a'.es. i:-.
governors were charged with all th<^~e ev:!> \\..xh
tiiey had neither the niear.s nor autliority to le ;r^— .
It was thus tliat Sir Thonia- Dri-'oai'.e f. ;:;;,! .\u^-
tralia at the close of 1S21, wlien lie ep.leied i:;'"r. i.i-
antipodean government: ever\:Ii::'g \\a- ~o !-e\er-.- !,
liotli ]:ihy>ieally an^I nientaily. thr.t I' -ee then. r.r;^:.t
he mu-t have >Kjod upon his b.ead. ( 'fe r.r-e. hi- :vl-
mini-tratioii wa- complained o:'. I.v.i ti-.i- ua- '.r.evit-
al.le. and he o:,ly ad led one nan^e ni ve t • the li-t
of New South Wale^ g. .ver^:-. w].-, l.ai <;ee^ ->ive!y
!>een worried, calumniated, ar; i wearied e^ut. 1".

176

JAMES BROWN JOHN BROWN.

was much, however, that he was, upon the whole,
the least unpopular of all who had held the oflice,
and that his departure from the colony was witnessed
with re.^et. Who at that time would have con-
jectured, or even have dreamed, that only forty years
after the population of Australia would be increased
more than fiftyfoUi, and that it would be one of the
wealthiest, as well as most populous, of all colonies?

In spite of these great impediments, the adminis-
tration of Sir Thomas Brisbane during the four years
of his rule in New South Wales was neither inert
nor unprotluctive; anil of his labours as governor the
following brief summary is given by his biographer: —
" He imjiroveil the condition of the convicts, substi-
tuted useful labour for the treadmill, and above all
gave them the blessing of hope by offering tickets
of leave for good conduct. At his own cxjiense he
introduced into the colony gootl breeds of horses, as
well as the cultivation of the vine, the sugar-cane,
cotton, and tobacco." These industrial arts and im-
provements were what the colony especially needed,
and as much perhaps as his limited commission could
overt.ike in a society so constituted. But an act by
which he especially distinguished himself will endear
him to every lover of science. .\ vailing himself of
the bright pure sky of Australia to prosecute his
favourite study of astronomy, he established a large
observatory at his residence at I'aramatta, which
was afterwards continued by government; and there,
by his careful observations, fixed the positions of, and
catalogued, 73S5 stars hitherto scarcely known to
astronomers. For this splendid work. The Brisbane
Ciitiilo.^ue of Stars, he was honoured with the Copley
medal from the Royal .Society, a reward which he
preferred to all his military distinctions. Tlie degree
of D.C.L. was also conferred upon him by the
universities of Oxford and Cambridge.

Sir Thomas Brisbane returned from Australia at
the close of 1825, and established his residence
chietly at Makerstoun, the property of Lady Brisbane.
Here lie estai)Iished both an astronomical and a
magnetic observatory, and witli the aid of a staff of
very able observers, he compiled three large volumes
of observations, whicli were published in the Trans-
actions o( \.\\(t Royal .Society of Kdinljurgh. Military
honours still C(jntinued to flow upon him. In 1826
government conferred uj^on him tlie colonelcy of tlie
34th r.;giment; he was olTered tlie command of the
troojis in Canada, and soon afterwards the chief
Command in India; but from the counsels of his
me lical advisers he was induced to decline both of
these iionourable appointments. In 1S35 he was
created a baronet; in 1S37 he received tlie (irand
Cross of the order of the Hath; and in 1S41 he was
ma le a general in the anny. On tlie death of .Sir
Walter Scott he was elected president of the Rcjyal
.Socijty, Edinburgh. He al -o founded two gold
medals as rewards for scientitic merit -(jue for tiie
Royal Society, and the other for the Sm iety of .Arts.
After a I'Mig life spent in distinction and usefulness,
the first part as a gallant soldier, and tlie la^t as a
man of science. Sir Thomas Macdougall I'risljane
died at Brisbane House, on January 31, 1S60, at the
age of eighty-seven; and as he left no ciiildreii he
was succeeded by his nephew, the son of .V(hniral
BrishanL-.

BROWN, Jamf.s, a traveller and scholar of some
eminence, was the son of James lirown, .M.I)., who
pui)l;slied a translation of two Orations 0/ /-oi rat, s,
witliout his name, and who died in 1733. The
subject of this article was born at Kelso, May 23,
1 709, and was educated at Westminster sihool,
where he made great proficiency in the Latin and

Greek classics. In the year 1722, when less thar\
fourteen years of age, he accompanied his father to
Constantinople, where, having naturally an aptitude
for theacquisition of languages, he made himself a pro-
ficient in Turkish, modern Greek, and Italian. On
his return in 1725 he atlded the Spanish to the other
languages which he had already mastered. About
1 732 he was the means of commencing the publication
of the London Directory, a work of vast utility in the
mercantile world, and which has since been imitated
in almost every considerable town in the empire.
After having laid the foundation of this undertaking,
he transferred his interest in it to Mr. Henry Kent,
a printer in Finch Lane, Conihill, who carried it on
for many years, and eventually, through its means,
accpiired a fortune and an estate. In 1 741 Brown
entered into an engagement with twenty-four of the
principal merchants in London, to act as their chief
agent in carrsing on a trade, through Russia, with
Persia. Having travelled to that country by the
Wolga and the Caspian Sea, he established a factory
at Reshd, where he continued nearly four years.
During this time he travelled in state to the camp
of the famous Kouli Khan, with a letter which had
been transmitted to him by George II. for that
monarch. He also rendered himself such a pro-
ficient in the Persic language, as to be able, on his
return, to compile a copious dictionaiy and grammar,
with many curious specimens of Persic literature,
which, however, was never published. A sense of
the dangerous situation of the settlement, and his
dissatisfaction with some of his employers, were the
causes of his return; and his remonstrances on these
subjects were speedily found to be just, by the factory
being plundered of property to the amount of
£,%o,QfX), and a period being put to the Persian
trade. From his return in 1746 to his death, which
took place in his house at Stoke-Newington, Novem-
ber 30, 1788, he appears to have lived in retirement
upon his fortune. In the obituary of the Gcnileinan''s
Magazine he is characterized as a person of strict
integrity, unaffected piety, and exalted but unosten-
tatious benevolence.

BROWN, John, author of the Self-Interfrcting
Bible, and many popular religious works, was born
in the year 1722 at Carpow, a village in the parish
of Abeniethy and county of Perth. In consequence
of the circumstances of his parents, he was able to
spend but a very limited time at school in acquiring
the elements of reading, writing, and arithmetic.
"One month," he has himself told us, "witliout his
parents' allowance, he bestowed upon Latin." His
thirst for knowledge was intense, ard excited him,
even at this early ])eriod, to extraoidinary diligence
in all dejiartments of study, but particularly to
religious culture. Al)out the eleventh year of his
age he was deprived by death of his father, and soon
after of his mother, and was himself reduced, by four
successive attacks of fever, to a state which made it
jirobable that he was about sjieedily to join his
])arents in the grave. But having recovered from
this illness, he had the good fortune to liiid a friend
and protector in John Ogilvie, a she})hcrd venerable
for age and eminent for piety, yet so destitute of
education as to be unable even to read. To suj^i^ly
his own deficiency, Ogilvie, was glad to engage
young Pjrown to assist him in\tending his Hock, and
read to him during the intervals of his occupatifin.
To screen tliemselves from the storm and the heat,
they built a little lodge among the hills, and to this
their moinitain tabernacle (long after pointed or.t
under tliis name by the peasants) they frequently
repaired to cekljrate their pastoral devotions.

JOHN BROWN.

177

Ogilvie having; soon retired from his occupation
as a shepherd, and settled in the town of Abemethy,
young Brown entered the service of a neighbouring
farmer, who maintained a more numerous establish-
ment than his former friend. This step he laments
as having been followed by a sensible decline of
religious attainments, and a general lukewarmness
in religious duty, although his external character
was remarkably distinguished by many virtues, and
especially by the rare and truly Chri^,tian grace of
meekness. In the year 1733 four ministers of the
Church of Scotland, among whom was Mr. Moncrieff
of Abemethy, declared a secession from its judica-
tures, alleging as their reasons for taking this step the
following list of grievances: — "The sufferance of error
without adequate censure; the infringement of the
rights of the Christian people in the choice and
settlement of ministers under the law of patronage;
the neglect or relaxation of discipline; the restraint
of ministerial freedom in opposing maladministra-
tion, and the refusal of the prevailing party to be
reclaimed." To this body our young shepherd early
attached himself, and ventured to conceive the idea
of one day becoming a shepherd of souls in that
connection. lie accordingly prosecuted his studies
with increasing ardour, and began to attain con-
siderable knowledge of Latin and Greek. These
acquisitions he made entirely without aid from
others, except at an occasional hour when he sought
a solution of such difficulties as his unaided efforts
could not master, from two neighbouring clcrg)-mcn
^the one Mr. Moncrieff of Abemethy, who has just
been mentioned as one of the founders of the seces-
sion, and the otJier Mr. Johnston of Arngask, father
of the late venerable Dr. Johnston of North Leith;
both of whom were very obliging and communica-
tive, and took great interest in promoting the progress
of the studious shepherd-boy. An anecdote has
been preserved of this part of his life and studies
which deserves to be mentioned. lie had now
acquired so much knowledge of Greek as encouraged
him to hope that he might be able to read the New
Testament in its original language. Full of this hope,
he became anxious to possess a copy of the invaluable
volume, and for this purpose set out on a midnight
journey to St. Andrew's, a distance of twenty-four
miles. Having reached his destination in the morn-
ing, he repaired to the nearest bookseller, and asked
for a copy of the Greek New Testament. The
master of the shop, astonished by such an application
from so unlikely a person, was rather disposed to
taunt him with its presumption. Meanwhile a party
of gentlemen, said to have been professors in the
university, entered the shoj:), and having understood
the matter, cpiestioned the lad about his employment
and studies. After hearing his tale, one of them
ordered tlic volume to be brought, and throwing it
down upon tlie table, "Boy," said he, "read that
hook, and you sliall have it for notliing." Young
Brown acquitted himself to the admiration of his
judges, carried off his cheaply-purchased Testament
in Iriutnph. and. ere the evening arrived, was studv-
ing it in tlie midst of his flock upon the hills of
Abernetliy.

I lis extr.Tirdiiiary acquisitions about tliis time
subjected him to a >us]iicion that he received a
secret aid from the enemy of man, ujion the ple<lge
of his own soul. It was probably in consequence of
this annoyance that he abandoned the occupation of
a shepherd, and undertook tliat of pedlar or travel-
ling-merchant. Thi> mode of life was once of much
greater inq^ortance ami higher esteem in .'Scotland
than at ]ire---ent. wiien tlie facilities of coninuinication
have been multijilied to ^uch a liegree, aiij w.as often

\OL. I.

pursued by persons of great intelligence and respec-
tability. Its peculiar tendency to imbue the mind
with a love of nature, and form it to a knowledge of
the world, have been finely illustrated by a great
poet of our day: nor is the Scottish pedlar of the
Exairsiott, though certainly somewhat too meta-
physical, the unnatural character which it has been
represented. It will n(jt, however, be considered
very surprising that young Brown did not shine in
his new profession. I)uring his mercantile pere-
grinations, which lay chiefly in the interior parts of
Fife and Kinrosshire, he made it a mle to call at no
house of which the family had not the character of
being religious and given to reading. When he was
received into any such dwelling, his fir.-,t care was to
have all the books it could furnish collected together,
among which, if he did but light u])on a new one,
he fell to the literary feast, losing in the appetite of
the soul the hunger of the body, and forgetting the
merchandise of pedlar's wares. It is related, that
the contents of his pack, on his return to head-
quarters, used to present a lively image of chaos,
and that he was verv' glad to exj^ress his obligations
to any neat-handed housewife who would take the
arrangement of them upon herself Many a time
and oft was he pnidently reminded of the propriety
of attending more to his business, and not wasting
his time on what did not concern him — till his
monitors at last gave up the case, and wisely shaking
their heads, pronounced him "good for nothing but
to be a scholar."

Soon after the close of the rebellion of 1745,
during wdiich he serv'ed as a volunteer in the regi-
ment of militia raised by the county of Fife, in
behalf of the govemment, he resolved to undertake
the more dignified duties of schoolmaster. He
established himself in 1747 at Gaimey Bridge, a
village in the neighbourhood of Kinross, and there
laid the foundation of a school which subsisted for
a considerable time, and, fifteen years after, was
taught by another individual whose name has al.-o
become favourably known to the world — the tender
and interesting young poet, Michael Bruce. During
Mr. Brown's incumbency, which lasted for two years,
this school was remarkably successful, and attracted
scholars from a considerable distance. He alter-
wards taught for a year and a half another school at
Spittal, in the congregation of Linton, under Mr.
James Mair. The practical character of his talents,
the accuracy of his learning, the intimate experience
which, as a self-taught scholar, he must have had of
elementary difficulties and the best mode of solving
them, must have peculiarly qualified him for the
discharge of his present duties. Nor did he relax
the while in the jirosecution of his own. On the
contrarv, his ardour seems to have led him into im-
prudent extremes of exertion. He would commit to
memory fifteen cha]>ters of the Bilile as an evening
exercise after the labours of the day, and aiter ^l•.ell
killing efforts, allow himself but four hour.- <'t re] > '>e.
To this excess of effort he was probably stimulated
by the near ajiproach of the jK'riod to wliieh lie h.ad
long looked forward with trembling hope— the ■ '.:y
which was to reward the toils and trial- of his \r.r;ed
youth, by inve-ting him with the solemn lur.e:;' n oi^
an amba.-^ador of Cliri-t. l>nring tlie ^■.^c^,! ki.- ot
his school he was now engaged in tlie reL;u..-.r >tu<ly
of philoso]ihy and divinity under tlie ii,-j ect;on ( t
ihe Associate Svnod, and the -r.periiiteii.'.er.ce "i ilie
Rev. l-dienezcr i'.rskine. andjanie- I'i-lur. two of the
original foiuulers, and juinc;; al l;..,lit-. ot t:.e >ece--
sio'n church. .\t length, m the >t.:i 175'- hav;r.g
conqileted hi- iirei^arat. .ry e- i;r~e < -! -•a'.'iy. an.l ap-
ru-oved.him.-el for. trial befj:e-.l.e.\;-oc;.:le rre>i.y!ery

12

178

JOHN BROWX.

of Edinburgh, he was licensed by that reverend body,
at Dalkeith, to preach the gospel in their society.
He had not been long a probationer when he re-
ceived two nearly simultaneous calls to the settled
discharge of ministerial duty; one from the congrega-
tion of Stow, a village in the shire of Edinburgh,
and the other from that of Haddington, the principal
town in the county of that name. The presbytery
of Edinburgh, within whose lx)unds both congrega-
tions were includeil, and which had therefore, ac-
cording to the I'resbyterian constitution, the right of
deciding between their competing claims, submitted
the matter to his own discretion. His choice was
determined to Haddington, and over this congrega-
tion therefore he was finally ordained pastor in the
month of June, 1751. It deserves to be mentioned,
however, that he continued regularly to visit and
examine the congregation of Stow until it was
supplied with a regular minister.

To the duties of the sacred office he devoted him-
self with the most zealous and laborious industry.
The sniallness of his congregation enabled him at
once to undertake the widest range of ministerial
duty, and to execute it with the greatest minuteness
and accuracy. Besides regularly preaching four dis-
courses every Sunday during the summer, and three
during winter in his own place of worship, and
occasionally in the country during the week, he
visited all his people annually in his pastoral capa-
city, and carried them twice in the same period
through a course of public catechetical examinations.
He was very assiduous in his visits to the sick and
the afflicted, and that not merely to those of his own
congregation, but to all of every denomination who
desired his services. The peculiar characteristic of
his manner of address on all these occasions, public
and private, was an intense solemnity and earnest-
ness, which extorted attention even from thescorner,
and was obviously the genuine expression of his own
overwhelming sense of the reality and importance of
the message. "His grave aiijiearance," says a late
English divine who had attended his ministry for
some time, "his solemn, weighty, and energetic
manner of speaking used to affect me very much.
Certainly his preaching was close, and his address
to the conscience ])ungent. Eike his Lord and
Master, he spoke witli authority and hallowed pathos,
having tasted the sweetness and felt the power of
what he delivered." To the same effect the cele-
brated David Hume, having been led to hear him
jireach on one occasion at North Berwick, remarked,
"That old man preaches as if Christ were at his
elbow." Except f )r his overawing seriousness, and
occasionally a melting sweetness in his voice, it does
not appear tliat his delivery was by any means at-
tractive. "It was my mercy," he says, with charac-
teristic mo<lesty, that "ilie Lord, who had given me
some other talents, withheld from me a ]jo])ular de-
livery, so that, though my discourses were not dis-
relished by the serious, so far as I heard, yet they
were not so agreeable to many hearts as those of my
brethren, which it was a jileasure to me to sue pos-
sessed of that talent which the Lord, to restrain my
pride, had denied to me." His labours were not in
vain, and the members of his congregation, thesmall-
ness of which he often sjioke of a> a mercy, seem to
have been enabled to walk, in a great measure, suit-
able to their profession and their privileges. In ec-
clesiastical policy he was a staunch I'resbyterian and
.Seceder in the original sense of the term, as denoting
one separated, not from the constitution of the I'^stah-
lished church, either as a church or as an establish-
ment, but from the policy and control of the pre-
dominant party in lier judicatures. A; the unh.Ti'iiy

division of the Secession church in 1745, commonly
known by the name of the breach, on the question of
making refusal of the burgess oath a term of com-
munion, though personally doubtful of the propriety of
a Seceder's swearing the oath in question, he attached
himself to that party, who, from declining peremp-
torily to jironounce it unlawful, obtained the popular
ap]iellation of Burghers, — justly considering that a
difference of opinion on this point was by no means
sufficient to break the sacred bond of Christian
fellowship. His public prayers were liberal and
catholic, and he always showed the strongest affec-
tion for gospel ministers and true Christians of
every name. In an unpublished letter to a noble
lady of the Episcopal communion, he expresses his
hope "that it will afford her a delightful satisfaction
to observe how extensive and important the agree-
ment, and how small the difference of religious senti-
ments, between a professedly staunch Presbyterian
and a truly conscientious Episcopalian, if they both
cordially believe the doctrine of God's free grace
reigning to men's eternal life, through the imputed
righteousness of Jesus Christ our Lord." He made
a point of regularly attending and acting in the church
courts, though he avoided taking any leading part
in the management of ecclesiastical business. The
uniformity and universality of his habits of personal
devotion were remarkable. Of him it might well
be said that he walked with God, and that in God
he, as it were, to his own consciousness, lived, and
moved, and had his being. The extent of his pecu-
niary liberality was surprising. He considered it a
binding duty on every individual to devote at least a
tenth part of his revenue to pious uses; and out of
an income which, during the greater part of his life,
amounted to only forty pounds a year, and never
exceeded fifty, and from which he had a numerous
family to support, he generally exceeded that pro-
portion. He distributed his benevolence with strict
attention to the Saviour's command, "Let not thy
left hand know what thy right hand doeth."

He was aware of the importance of conversation
among the various means of doing good, and, though
he laments his own "sinful weakness and unskilful-
ness in pushing religious discourse," he was too con-
scientious to neglect the opportunities which pre-
sented themselves of promoting, in this way, the
glory of God and the best interests of men. It is
related that, having accidentally met Ferguson the
poet walking in Haddington churchyard, and being
struck with his pensive ajipearance, he modestly
addressed him, and offered him certain serious ad-
vices, which deeply affected him at the time, and
doubtless had their share in exciting and promoting
those terrible convictions which latterly overwhelmed
the poet's mind, and which it may perhaps be hoped
there was something better than "the sorrow that
worketh death." He knew, however, that there was
a certain discretion to be used in such cases, and a
selection to be made of the "'mot/ia tcmporn fandi,''''
the seasons when words are "fitly sjioken." Of
this the following anecdote is an example: — Having
occasion to cross the ferry between Leith and King-
horn, with a Highland gentleman as his fellow-
l^asscngcr, he was much grieved to hear his com-
panion frequently take the name of God in vain, but
restrained himself from taking any notice of it in the
presence of the rest of the com]5any. On reaching
land, however, observing the same gentleman walk-
ing alone upon the beach, he stepped up, and
calmly reminded him of the offence he hatl been
guilty of, and the law of God which forlnds and
condemns it. The gentleman received the reproof
with expressions of thanks, and declared his resolu-

JOHN BROWN.

179

tion to attend to it in future. "But," added the
choleric Celt, "had you spoken to me so in the boat,
I believe I should have run you through."

It will not be supposed that, after having studied
with such ardour in circumstances of comparative
disadvantage, he neglected the more favourable
opportunities he now enjoyed of extending and con-
solidating his knowledge. By a diligent improve-
ment of the morning hours, and economy of time
throughout the day, he rarely spent fewer than twelve
hours of the twenty-four in his study. No degree
of toil in the way of reading, or even of writing,
seemed to daunt or to fatigue him. He transcribed
most of his works several times with his own hand;
and even without a view to the press, he more than
once undertook the same fatigue for the convenience
of private individuals. In this way, at the request
of the Countess of Huntingdon, he copied out his
System of Divinity, before its publication, for the
use of her ladyship's theological seminary in Wales.
He had remarkable facility in the acquisition of lan-
guages; and of this species of knowledge he possessed
an extraordinary amount. Besides the three com-
monly called the learned tongues, he was acquainted
with Arabic, Syriac, Persic, and Ethiopic; and of
the modem languages, with the French, Spanish,
Italian, Dutch, and German. In the various depart-
ments of real as distinguished from ve7-bal know-
ledge, his reading was very wide in range and various
in subject. His favourite pursuits were history and
divinity ; but every subject which more nearly or re-
motely bore on the literature of his profession, he con-
sidered worthy of his attention. He afterwards saw
reason to repent of the wideness of his aims in this
respect, and to regret "the precious time and talents,"
to use his own words, "he had vainly squandered
in the mad attempt to become a universal scholar."
His reading, though thus extensive, was at the same
time very exact and accurate. In order to render it
so, he in many cases adopted the tedious and labori-
ous method of compiling regular abridgments of
important and voluminous books. Among the
works he thus epitomized, were Judge Blackstone's
Commentaries and the Ancient Universal History.

In the month of September, 1753, about two years
after his ordination, ^Ir. Brown married Miss Janet
Thomson, daughter of Mr. John Thomson, merchant
at Musselburgh. For eighteen years he enjoyed in
her a "help meet" for him in his Christian course,
and at the end of that period he surrendered her,
as he himself expresses it, "to her first and better
Husband." They had several children, of whom
only two survived their mother — John and Ebenezer,
both of whom their father had the satisfaction, be-
fore his death, of introducing as ministers into the
church of Christ, the former at Whitburn, and the
latter at Inverkeithing. Two years after the death
of his first wife, which took place in 1771, he was
married a second time to Miss Violet Crombie,
daughtcrof Mr. William Crombie, merchant, Stenton,
East Lothian, who survived him for more than thirty
years, and hs wliom he left at his death four son's
and two daugliters. In his domestic economy and
discipline, Mr. Brown laljourcd after a strict fidelity
to his ordination vow, l:>y which he promised to
rule well in his own house. His notions in regard
to the authority of a liusband and a father were
very high, and all the power whicli as such he
thought himself to possess, was faitlifully employed
in maintaining both the form and tlie power of
godliness.

In the year 175S Mr. Brown, for the fir>t time,
appeared as an author. His fir>t ]^uhlication was
entitled ".-/;/ Help for Ir.c I^ucrjut, bL-iiig an Ejs.ny

towards an Easy Explication of the Westminster
Confession of P'aith and Catechisms, compiled for
the use of the Young Ones of his own Congregation."
In addition to this he published, six years after, two
short catechisms — one intro<luctory to, the other
explanatory of the Shorter Catechism. All these
publications have been very extensively useful. In

1765 he published what was at the time by far the
most popular and successful of his works, entitled
The Christian Journal, or Common Incidents Spiri-
tual Instructors. This work, though it has some of
the literary defects which, on such a subject, might
have been expected from an author so circumstanced,
such as the occasional indulgence of unrefined
images, the excess of detail in tracing the analogies,
and a certain monotonous rhythm of style in many
cases scarcely distinguishable from blank verse —
nevertheless displays an extraordinary richness and
ingenuity of fancy, and in many instances rises into
a most impressive and heart-warming eloquence. In

1766 he published a History of the A'ise and Progress
of the Secession, and the year following, a series of
Letters on the Constitution, Discipline, and Goz'ernment
of the Christian Church. These tracts were followed
by his Sacred Tropology, the first of a series of works
which he designed for the purj^ose of giving a clear,
comprehensive, and regular view of the figures,
types, and predictions of Scripture. The second
and third parts were published in 1781.

In the year 1768, in consequence of the death
of the Rev. John .Swanston of Kinross, professor
of divinity under the Associate Synod, Mr. Brown
was elected to the vacant chair. The duties of this
important office he discharged with great ability and
exemplary diligence and success. His public pre-
lections were directed to the two main objects, first,
of instructing his pupils in the science of Christianity,
and secondly, of impressing their hearts with its
power. The system of divinity which he was led,
in the course of his professional duty, to compile,
and which was afterwards published, is perhaps the
one of all his works which exhibits most striking
proofs of precision, discrimination, and enlargement
of thought; and is altogether one of the most dense,
and at the same time perspicuous, views which has
yet been given of the theolog}- of the Westminster
Confession. He likewise, A.D. 1768, gave to the
world one of the most elaborate, and certainly one
of the most valuable of all his writings. The Dic-
tionary of the Holy Bible. For popular use it is
unquestionably the most suitable work of the kind
which yet exists, containing the results of most ex-
tensive and various reading both in the science and
in the literature of Christianity, given without pre-
tension or parade, and with a uniform reference to
jiractical utility. In 1 771 the Honourable and
Reverend Mr. Shirley, liy command of the Countess
of Pluntingdon, applied to Mr. Brown for his opinion>
on the grand subject of justification, in view of .i
conference to be held on this question with Mr.
Wesley and his preachers. This application gave
occasion to a long and animated corre>]joniier.ce
with that noble lady, and to a series of article- tRmi
his pen on the doctrine of justification, which ni-
peared from time to time in tlie Go.f:' J/,,',..'.-.;/
and Theological Miscdlatiy, lietwecTi t!ie year- 177c)
and 1776. In the same year he was led. by a cie-ire
to contrilnite to the yet bettor in^tnIctiMn cf his
students, to form the (!esi.,m of c^'mjio-in,; a maiir.a!
of church hi>t()ry on a general and cimprelieri-ive
plan. It was to' consist of three ] art.-, "'tlie tir>t
comprehending a general vje\\' cf tran-action- relat-
ing to the cliurch from the 1 :r;]; of ni'.r Saviour
to the pre=ent time; tiie -eco::.! Co;ua:;;:ng more

i8o

JOHN BROWN JOHN BROWN, -M.D.

fully the histories of the reformed British churches
in England, Scotland, Ireland, and America; the
third to comprehend the histories of the Waldenses
and the Protestant churches of Switzerland, France,
Holland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Poland,
and Hungary." Of these he comjileted the two
foiTner, his General Ilislon' having been published
in 1 77 1, and his History of the British Churches in
the beginning of 1784. These form very useful
popular compends, though clestitute of higli historical
autiiority. The History of the British Churches, as
a work of original research, is mucii superior to the
more general compilation, which is little more than
an abridgment of ]NIosheim, written in a more fervid
spirit than the latter is accustomed to display. Mr.
Brown's next publication appeared in 1775, and was
an edition of the metrical Psalms, 'with Xotcs ex-
kihitiir:; the Connection, explaining the Hense, and for
directing and animating the Deiotion. In 177'^ '^^
gave to the world the great work on which his re-
putation is ciiiefly founded, The Self Interpreting
Bible, the object of which is to condense, within
a manageable compass, all the information which
an ordinar\' reader may fnul necessary for attaining
an intelligent and practical knowledge of the sacred
oracles. The first j)ublication of this work was
attended with considerable difficulties, in consequence
of tlie claim of the king's printers to the exclusive
right of printing the authorized version of the Scrip-
tures, whether accompanied or not with illustrative
matter. This claim, however, having been set
aside, the work was at lengtli given to the world
in 177S, and received with a iiigh and gradually
increasing and still unexhausted approbation. The
.same year he publisiied a small tract entitled The
Oracles of Christ Abominations of Antichrist, and
four years after, his Letters on Toleration: strenuously
maintaining the unlawfuhiess of tolerating by autho-
rity a false religion in a professedly Christian country.
These publications originated in tlie universal senti-
ment of alarm entertained by the evangelical Presl^y-
terians of Scotland, both within and without the
Establishment, in consequence of the proposed
abolition of the penal code against the Roman
Catholics.

In 1 781, besides his works on tlie types and pro-
phecies formerly referred to, he published a sermon
on tlie Duty of Raising up Spiritual Children unto
Christ, preached partly at Whitburn, and partly
after his son El)enezer's ordination at Inverkcilhing.
He likewise, in the course of the same year, wrote
a pamphlet in defence of the re-exhil)ilion of the
te>timo!iy, and a collection of the l)iogra])hies of
eminent divines, under the name of the Christian
Student and J'astor. This was the fust of a series
of similar compilations intended as illustrations and
examples f>f practical religion, and was fullowed in
1781 by the Young Christian, and in 1783 by the
Li^es of thirteen J-'.minent Private Christians. In
1783 he published a small Conconlanrc to the Bible.
The year fillowing he received an invitation fifun
the reformed Dutch church in .\merica, to become
their professor of divinity, which he declined, and
modestly kept secret. .And, in 17S5, he conchided
his career as an author, by a ])ani])lil( t against the
travelling of the mail dii the I.ordV-day a day for
the observance- f)f which, in the stricte-t degree of
.sanctity, he always showed himself ])eculiarly iealous,
not only ab>taining hini-.elf, but ])roliibiting his
family, from speaking on that day on any worldlv
affair, even on such as relate<l Xo what may lie callnl
the secularities of religion and the chunh. 'I'he
tracts published by him in periodical work^, along
with his Letters on Gospel Preaching and the Ticliai--

iour of Ministers, were collected after his death, and
published under the title of Remains.

Throughout his writings Mr. Brown's unilbmi
aim was general utility; personal emolument formed
no part of his object, and certainly very little of his
attainment, as the whole profit accruing to himself
from his voluminous, and in many cases successful,
works, amounted to only £ip. Without possessing
much original genius, but on the other hand too
readv, it may be, to submit the freedom of his mind
to system and authority, he was endowed with a
strong aptitude for acquisition, and great power of
arrangement, a sound and generally sober judgment,
and a rich and vivid fancy, though united with a
defective, or rather, perhaps, an uncultivated taste.
The selection of subjects, and general conception
of almost every one of them, are very happy, and
in many cases the execution proves his high endow-
ments for the task he undertook.

The time now drew near that he should die. For
some years previous he had been greatly annoyed
with a gradual failure, at once in the bodily power
of digestion and the mental faculty of memory — the
syin])toms of a constitution fairly worn out by the
intense and incessant labours to which it had been
subjected. In the beginning of 1787 his complaints
increased in such an alarming degree, accompanied
by a general and extreme debility, that he found it
necessary to abandon the pulpit. During the months
of spring, he lived in a continual state of earnest and
active preparation for the great change he was about
to undergo. He expired on the 19th June, and on
the 24th his remains were followed to their place
of repose in Haddington churchyard by nearly the
whole inhabitants of the town, and a large concourse
of his friends and brethren from a distance. At the
first meeting of the Associate Synod after his decease,
"the Synod," as their minute bears, "unanimously
agreed to take this opportunity of testifying their
respect to the memory of the Rev. John Brown,
their late professor, whose eminent piety, fervent
zeal, extensive charity, and unwearied diligence in
promoting the interests of religion, will be long
remembered by this court, especially by those mem-
bers of it who had the happiness of studying divinity
under his insi^ection."

BROWN, Jo II \, M.D., founder ofwhat is termed
the Brunonian system in medicine, and one of the
most eccentric and extraordinary men of his time,
was a native of the parisli of Bunkle, in Berwickshire,
where he was born in the year 1735, or, as others
assert, in 1737. Though only the son of a day-
labourer, he contrived to obtain an excellent classical
education at the school of Dunse, which was then
taught by Mr. William Cruickshank, one of the
most celebrated teachers that Scotland has produced.
The genius and application of Brown were alike so
great, that, at an age when the most of children are
only beginning their letters, he was far advanced in
a knowledge of Latin. His studies, after some
time, were broken off in consequence of the inability
of his father to maintain him at school. He Mas
bound ap])rentice to the gloomy and monotonous
craft of a weaver, which must have been ])ecidiarly
unsuital)le to his lively faculties. However, he
seems to have afterwards been enabled, by the kind-
ness (jf liis teacher, to renew his studies; and it
is known that for this ]iur])ose lie had emiiloyed
himself on the harvest-field. His ]iroficiency in
Latin recommended liim, first to the situation of
uglier in the school, and afterwards to that of tutor
in a iieigld)i)uring family, ^\'hen about twenty
i years of a''c he removed to Edinburc;h, and, enter-

JOHN BROWX.

iSl

ing the university, advanced so far in the study of
divinity, as to deliver a discourse preparatory to
commencing his trials before the presbytery. Brown,
however, was not destined to be a member of the
clerical profession. Owing to some unexplained
freak of feeling, he turned back from the very thresh-
old, and for some years supported himself in the
humble capacity of a grinder in the university. His
services in this capacity to the medical students
introduced him to a knowledge of medicine, which
he suddenly resolved to prosecute as a profession.
His natural ardour of mind enabled him very speedily
to master the necessary studies, in which he was
greatly assisted by the particular kindness and atten-
tion of Dr. Cullen, then professor of medicine in the
university. At one period he acted as Latin secre-
tary to this great man, with whom he afterwards
quarrelled in the most violent manner. In 1765 he
married, and set up a house for the purpose of
receiving medical students as boarders. JJut his
irregular and improvident conduct reduced him to
bankruptcy in the short space of two years. A
vacancy occurring in the high-school, he became a
candidate; but being too proud of his real qualifica-
tions to think any other recommendation necessary,
he was overlooked in favour of some child of ])atron-
age. It is said that, when his name, and his name
alone, was presented to the eyes of tiie magistrates,
they derisively asked who he was; to which Cullen,
then separated in affection from his former pupil, is
stated to have answered, with some real or affected
hesitation — " Why, sure, this can never be our Jock I"
Brown met witli a similar repulse on apj^ilying for
the chair of theoretical medicine in the university.
Yet, notwithstanding every discouragement from the
great men of his own profession, this eccentric genius
was pressing on towards the completion of that pe-
culiar system by which his name has been distin-
guished. His views were given to the world, in
1780, under the title EUmcnta McdiciiiiT; and he
illustrated them further by lectures, wliich were at-
tended, as a supernumerary course, by many of the
regular students of the university. The Brunonian
system simply consisted in the administration of a
course of stimulants, instead of the so-called anti-
jihlogistic remedies, as a means of producing that
change in the system which is necessary to work a
cure. The idea was perhaps suggested by his own
habits of life, which were unfortunately so very dis-
solute as to deprive him of all personal respect. lie
was, perhaps, the only great drinker who ever
exulted in that degrading vice, as justified by philo-
sophical principles. So far from concealing his
practices, he used to keep a bottle of whisky, and
another of laudanum, upon the table before him;
and, throughout the course of the lecture, he seldom
took fewer than three or four doses from each. In
truth, Brown lived at a time when men of genius
di 1 not conceive it to be appropriate to their repu-
tation as such, to conduct themselves with decency.
Thus, a man wlio might have adorned the highest
walks of society by hi> many iirilliant ([ualities, was
only tit for the comi)any of the lowest and most de-
spicalile characters. He was a devout free-mason,
bat more for the sake of tlie conviviality to which
it affords so fatal an excuse, than fjr the more re-
condite and mysterious attractions (if any such exi>t)
of the fraternity. lie was the foiuider of a peculiar
lodge in Edinburgh, called the "Roman I'.agle,"
where no language but Latin was allowed to be
spoken. One of his friends remarked with astonish-
ment the readiness with which he could translate
the technicalities and slang of masonn.- into thi> lan-
guage, which, howe'.er, he at all times sjioke with

the same fluency as his vernacular .Scotch. It affords
a lamentable view of the state of literary society in
Edinburgh between the years 1780 and 1790, that
this learned lodge was perhaps characterized by a
deeper system of debauch than any other. In 1786
Brown removed to London, in order to push his
fortune as a lecturer on his own system of medicine,
which had already accjuired no little fame. But the
irregularity of his conduct, and the irascibility of his
temperament, rendered all his hopes fruitless. He
died at London, October 7, 1788, of a fit of apoplexy,
being then little more than fifty years of age. His
works have been collected and published by his son;
but, like the system which they explain, they are
now forgotten.

BROWN, John, an ingenious artist, was the son
of Samuel Brown, goldsmith and watchmaker at
Edinburgh, where he was born in 1752. He re-
ceived an excellent education, after the fashion of
Scotland, and was early destined to take u]> the
profession of a painter. Having formed a school
friendship of no ordinary warmth with Mr. David
Erskine, son of Thomas Erskine of Cambo, he
travelled with that young gentleman in 1774 into
Italy, where he was kindly received by Charles
Erskine of the Rota, an eminent lawyer and prelate,
the cousin of his companion. He immediately at-
tached himself to the academy, with a resolution to
devote himself entirely to the arts. During the
course of ten years' residence in Italy, the pencil
and crayon were ever in his hand, and the sublime
thoughts of Rajdiael and Michael Angelo ever in his
imagination. By continual practice he obtained an
elegance and correctness of contour never equalled
by any British artist; but he unfortunately neglected
the mechanism of the pallet till his taste was so re-
fined, that Titian, and Morillo, and Corregio made
his heart sink within him whenever he touched the
canvas. When he attempted to lay in his colours,
the admirable correctness of his contour was lost,
and he had never self-sufficiency to persevere till it
should be recovered in that tender evanescent out-
line which is so difficult to be attained even by the
most eminent painters. He wished everything im-
portant to be made out, and when it was made out,
he found his work hard and disagreeable, like the
first pictures painted by Raphael, and by all that
preceded that wonderful artist. Brown, besides his
genius for painting, possessed a high taste for music.
His evenings in Italy were spent at the opera, and
he penetrated deeply into the study of music as a
science.

At Rome Brown met with Sir William Young
and Mr. Townley, who, ])leased with some of his
]-)en-and-ink sketches, engaged him to accompany
them to .Sicily as a draughtsman. Of the antiquities
of this island he took several very fine views in pen
and ink, exquisitely finished, yet still preserving the
character and spirit of the buildings he intended to
re]'resent.

It was the belief of one of Brown's Scotii-h
patrons, that if he had gone to Berlin. I'.e W'luld
liave obtained the favour of Frederick the dreat,
on account of his extraordinary talents and rtinxd
personal character. A pious re;^aiii. Iv.weVer. I'.r
ins parents, induced him to return to liis native tity,
where, thou;;h universally beloved and aihnired. he
f lund no proper field for the exertion ^f h;> abilities.
-Amongst the few perM.ns .if ta>te \\\v' ] at:, .r.i.'ed
him was Lord Monboddo. who. wiili tl.at I;i orality
by which he wa.-. di>tinguidK-d. gave liim a L;eneral
invitation to his ekv;ant a;;d c-nvivial taMe. and
empkiyed luni in niakin,; ^e^ ci.ai j e:.e.!-i.;r..'.\ .i.gs.

JOHN BROWN, D.D.

He was also employed to draw pencil-heads of fifty
of the more distinguished members of the Scottish
Society of Antiquaries, then just established; of
which he finished about twenty. Among other
works which he produced at Edinburgh, were heads
of Dr. Blair, Sir Alexander Dick of I'restonfield,
Runciman, his friend and brother artist, Drs. Cullen
and Black, all of which were done in the most happy
and char.icteristic manner. His talent in this line is
described as having been very great. Amidst the
collection which he had brought home to lulinburgh,
was a portrait of the celebrated Piranese, who, being
unable to sit two moments in one posture, reduced
his painter to the necessity of shooting him Hying
like a bat or snipe. This raia az'is was brought
down by Brown at the first shot.

In 17S6 Brown w.os induced to remove to London
in order to prosecute, on a larger fiekl, his profession
as a portrait-draughtsman in black lead. He was
here occasionally employed by Mr. Townley in
drawing from his collection of Greek statues, a
branch of art in which Brown is allowed to liave
greatly excelled. After some time spent in unre-
mitting application, his health gave way, and he was
recommended to try the benefit of a visit to his
native countrj-, by sea. On his passage from London
to Leith, he was somehow neglected as he lay sick
in his hammock, and, on his arrival, he was found
at the point of death. With much difficulty he was
brought up to town, and laid on the bed of his friend
Runciman, who had died not long before in the
same place. Here he exiiired, .September 5, 1787,
having only attained the age of thirty-five.

BROWN, Rev. John, D.D. This learned and
profound expositor of theology and eloc[uent preacher,
was the son of the Rev. John Brown, .Secession
minister of Whitburn, and grandson of the distin-
guished John Brown, Secession minister of Hadding-
ton, of whom a notice has been already given. The
subject of the present memoir was born in the parish
of Whitburn, county of Linlithgow, on the 12th of
July, 1784. Even when a boy his devout disposi-
tion, his love of rea'ling and contemplation, and the
<listinction which his father, and still more his
grandfather, had obtained as clergymen, had their
natural influence in his choice of a ])rofession; and
having deci<led for the church, John, after the usual
education at the parish school of Whitburn, was sent,
at the age of thirteen, to the university of Edinburgh,
where he underwent the usual ciirriatlum to qualify
himself for the ministry. It was an early age at
which to follow out the necessary studies of litera-
ture and phil'jso])hy; but that he was already com-
petent f)r such an attenqit was thus attested by the
learned Principal Lee, sixty years afterwards: — "I
had the happiness of becoming acquainted with Dr.
Brown in the ye.ir 1800. By that time I believe he
was sixteen years of age, aii<l iiad been three years
at college. I had been six years a student, an<l had
not the re;)Utation of being idle; but well do I re-
member how strongly I was impressed with the
proofs which he exhibited of great maturity of in-
tellect, and remarkable jiower of giving exjiressifMi
to his thoughts in clear and felicitous language, more
attractive to my somewhat fastidious taste than even
the kind enchantment of his wiiming smile, an<l the
lustre fii his speaking eyes. Pleasing as his aspect
was, and cheerful as was his conversation, it required
no great amount of penetration to perceive that the
amenity of his manner, and his other engaging
accomplishments, were all subordinate to the love
of truth and soberness, the earnest pursuit of solid
and spiritual knowletlgc, the admiiation of things

superlatively excellent, and the ascendency of Chris-
tian principle exercised in labours of love."

Having finished his course of languages and philo-
sophy at the university, John Brown, in 1800, after
an examination by the Burgher presbyteiy of Perth,
as to his character and attainments, commenced the
study of theology in the divinity hall of the Secession
church, under the care of its professor, the Rev. Dr.
Lawson of .Selkirk. These courses of instruction,
which lasted only a few weeks during each session,
he attended until 1804; the rest of his time was
occupied in teaching a school in the village of Elie,
Eifeshire, where he continued three years. It was
a partial and defective mode of theological instruction,
that could do little more than point out to the pupil
what it was necessary for him to learn, and how to
set about it, while all beyond was left to his own
diligence and conscientiousness. The chances, also,
of diligent theological study were still fewer, if to
these were added the laborious and monotonous
daily duties of a schoolmaster, which afford so little
opportunity or inclination for long-sustained study.
Thus it happened that although Brown's proficiency
in the several branches of divinity were above the
general average, his superiority for the present chiefly
consisted in his knowledge of general literature and
poetry, those departments that require less applica-
tion, and are more easily mastered by desultory
efforts. It was oidy when he became a minister, and
had commenced the work of his sacred calling in
earnest, that he was in training to become what the
church finally acknowledged him to be — a most able
theological commentator and expositor.

Having finished the prescribed course of study,
the subject of this memoir was licensed as a preacher
on the 1 2th of February, 1805, although he had
not as yet completed his twenty-first year; and only
a few weeks after, he had calls from two congrega-
tions to be their minister. The one was in the town
of Stirling, the other in the obscure village of Biggar;
but to the latter and more humble field he wisely
gave the preference, by which he secured those
opportunities for study and self-improvement which
had hitherto been too circumscribed. On the 6lh of
February, 1806, he was ordained minister of the
Secession church of Biggar, which contained a con-
gregation of 300 members, and in this lowly sphere
he commenced those elaborate and eloquent sermons
which in future years were to be so greatly admired
in the Scottish metropolis. His whole heart, as
well as his closest study, during the seventeen years
of his stay in this charge, were as fully occupied as if
his preparations had been made for the pulpit of a
cathedral, while his studies went onward until they
had extended over the entire field of theology. In
this way the young poetical and sentimental student
became a jiainstaking, systematic, and erudite theo-
logian antl divine. Nor were the popular graces of
his oratory of small account in his .Sabbath public
ministrations. His figure was graceful, and his
countenance so handsome that it might have been
termed feminine, but for its intellectual brow, and
classical statuesque features; and while his voice was
clear, musical, and distinct, so that every syllable
fell into the ears of his auditory, his impassioned
manner, when he had reached the height of his argu-
ment, compelled them to symjiathize in his earnest-
ness, and commit themselves to his guidance. These
qualities could not but tell, even in an obscure nook
of the upjier ward of Lanarkshire. His little con-
gregation was increased Ijy hearers from the neigh-
bouring parishes, until the church was too small to
hold them, so that another had to be erected. Many
of his audience also consisted, not of dissenters, but

JOHN BROWN, D.D.

183

members of the E.stal)lishment, who became his
regular hearers, but without joining his church as
communicants. And not limiting himself to the
usual round of public duties, Mr. Brown preached
not only on .Sabjjalh evenings, but also during the
week, and in barns, in school-rooms, and, when the
weather permitted, in the open-air; using on such
occasions not loosely studied or extemporaneous
addresses, but the choicest of his composed sermons.
Such a proceeding, and the crowds which these
ministrations collected, roused the indignation of the
moderate clergy of the Establishment; and loud was
their outcry that he was a recruiting sergeant beating
up for recruits to the Secession. It was, however,
a groundless charge, for with a liberality rare at
that time among our Scottish dissenters, he did not
insist that memliers of the Establishment should for-
sake their church, as a condition of their sitting down
at the sacramental tal)le with his own people. On
this occasion he carried out the long-forgotten prin-
ciples of free communion so liberally expressed in
the Westminster standards. While Mr. Brown was
thus zealously employed as a minister, catechist, and
evangelist, and by a course of patient laborious study
improving not only his peo])le but himself also, and
becoming not merely a distinguished and useful
minister and preacher, but also a profound scholar in
theology, his sphere of exertion was always continu-
ing to widen with his increasing power of action.
The missionary spirit, which was still languid in
Scotland, he succeeded in stimulating among his
fiock at Biggar, so that their contributions for mis-
sions at length arose to ;^iOO per annum — a liberality
at that time unwonted in a rural congregation.
-Vnother scheme he started which was wholly new
in the Secession, was the establishment of a minis-
ter's library, designed to be the property of the con-
gregation, Ijut under the charge of the minister, and
subservient to his improvement. The advantage,
and even the necessity, of such an institution, will
be perceived by those wiio consider the scanty stipend
of country ministers in the Secession, and their re-
moteness from the means of intellectual improve-
ment. This lilirary, commenced in the congregation
of Biggar, was adopted so cordially, that in the
course of eight years the collection accumulated to
143 volumes, many of them expensive quartos and
folios, w'lich the funds of the minister alone could
never have reached. A plan so happy, however,
was confined to this country congregation until 1S52,
when its usefulness being fully appreciated, it was
adopted by other churches of the Secession, until
150 ministers' libraries had been established upon
rules similar to those of the parent institution of
Biggar. .Vmidst such training, it would have been
singul.ir if his pen had continued to be confined to
the i^rcparations for a country pulpit, which was so
well fitted for a wider and more ambitious sphere;
and that Mr. Brown should become an author was
nothing more tiian a natural consequence. I'he
occasion arrived in 1S14, when the Unitarian con-
troversy w.iN at it> hciglit in Glasgow, Ijetween Mr.
\'ates an 1 1 )r. \\'arillaw, and when the former had
published his reply to the latter under the title of
A l'/;i(/.\dfu'i! of i'nitariatiism. Mr. Brown had
been engaged to review this vindicatii:)n in \\\q. Edin-
burgh Christian histrnctor; but finding the article
too copious for insertion in tlie magazine, Dr. Andrew
Thomson, its (listingui>hed e(iitor, advised Mr. I5rown
to publi-li his criticpie a> a separate work. This the
latter did in a panqildet of >eventy octavo ])ages,
under the title of Stncli<rcs ou J/r^ }'<7,',j'j- I'lujiai-
tioii 0/ C'liiuiriauijin. I Ia[^pily these Sinrtun's were
almost wholly uiK'.eccssary, as the controversy itself

died out, with the speedy decline of Unitarianism in
Scotland, but not until the controversial learning,
trenchant logic, and clear impressive forcible style
of Brown's pamphlet had l>een recognized and
acknowledge<l. On the following year (18 16) he
l>ecame editor of a new periodical. The Christiiin
Repository and Religious Rei^ister, intended to defend
the principles of dissent, and of this periodical Mr.
Brown held the editorshij) for five years, until it was
united with The Christian Monitor, a new periodical
conducted by the Antiburgher Secession. Of this
last periodical Mr. Brown also continued editor
until 1826. As such an office, however, was too
limited for his intellectual energies, he continued to
issue se])arate writings from the ])ress, of which the
following is a brief summar)-: — In 1816 he published
a volume of discourses suited to the tlispensation of
the Lord's supper, discussing the nature of that
sacred ordinance in its doctrinal and practical aspects.
A year afterwards, he republished two of his articles
contributetl to the Christian Repository on the plans
and publications of Robert Owen of New Lanark,
upon which he brought such an amount of moral
and ])olitical philosophy to bear, as might have
sufficed to cnish the system, and convince the
originator of his errors, had that wayward genius
been in any way open to conviction. In 1818 he
republished in a separate and improved form, three
discourses which he had originally contributed to
the Edinburgh Christian Iftstriietor, on "The Char-
acter, Duty, and Danger of those who Forget God."
A far more important work which he published
during the same year, was On Religion and the
Means of its Attainment. In this little treatise he
endeavoured to emancipate the subject from the
artificial language of systems, and explain it in terms
sufficiently intelligible. The contents of the work
are thus briefly summed up by his biographer: —
"Religion is defined to be right thinking, right feel-
ing, and right action towards God; and this scheme,
adapted to the most elementary divisions of the
powers of human nature, is shown to include tlie
whole of religion in general, and of Christian l">iety
in particular. The grand means necessarv-, and yet
effectual, of becoming thus religious, is faith; and
this is neither more nor less than the belief — in the
ordinary sense of the word — of the contents of re-
velation, since this secures right thinking, and by a
necessary law of dependence, right feeling and action.
Faith again is produced by the study of the meaning
and the evidence of the truth which is set forth to be
believed; and the inveterate disinclination of man to
enter on and pursue this study, which is the only
hindrance to religion, is overcome by the intluence
of the Holy Spirit." While the authoi^hip of Mr.
Brown was employed upon these sulijects ol general
religious interest, he did not forget the claims of
missionary enterprise, and these sermons whicli ho
jireached in sup])ort of foreign and home missions
apjieared at intervals from the press. '1 he fir.-t
was On the Danger of Opposing CJinstianiiy. c-.d
the Certainty of its Final 'J'riiimpk. The <eC"i!'i \\.ts
On the Duty if Pecuniary Contribution for K-.iigious
Purposes. The thinl, which had o^iecird re:,-ard
to the evangelization of the Ilighlau'Is. wn- eiitalel,
On the State of Scotland in Reference to t'.e :>P.:i:s
of Religious Inslru tion.

It was impossible that sucli an oiKCVire locality
as Biggar could long ret.iin a niini>ter wl.o w.t-- r>'.r.g
to di>tinction in the Sece— -on e'r.'.rcii. It ".^s
seen that such talents were fif.e.l f r a \\\'x\ >\\\^xc
of usefulne.-s, and acconiir..;ly, in 1S17. Mr. Krown
received a call from a newly. iormei c<>\\zrc^xc.'A\ in
North Leilli to become their minister, with which,

lS4

JOIIX BROWN, D.D.

however, he did not judge it fit to comply. Another
call in 1822, from a congregation in Rose Street,
Edinburgh, was more successful, and to this impor-
tant ministerial charge he was translated after parting
from his old flock with affectionate regret. The
change came at the right time, as he was now in the
thirty-eighth year of his age, in the full vigour of his
intellectual faculties, and the field into which he
entered was well fitted to task his previous training
and experience to the uttermost. Not only the
metropolitan puljiit, but the bar, possessed such
eloquence and talent as no former period had wit-
nessed; and no secondary excellence was needful to
enable a dissenting minister to rise to distinction, or
even to hold his own amidst such a formidable com-
petition. But Mr. Brown stood the test and was
successful; his weighty, well-studied sermons were
winged with an eloquence and fervour that carried
them to the hearts not only of general hearers, but
of the learned and accomplished; and Rose Street
church, wiiich was a large building little more tlian
half filled, was soon crowded to overflowing. And
it was no mere ei>hemeral po]:)u]arity which thus
welcomed his entrance into Edinburgh, but a lasting
esteem that continued to the close, and the following
description, given by one of his hearers, will apply to
every .Sabbath of his pulpit appearances: — "I can
well remember with hundreds then children, but
now advancing in life, that though not able to com-
prehend the exact meaning of Mr. Brown's dis-
courses, we used to walk in company, with the
sanction of our parents, to a considerable distance,
when it was known that Mr. Brown of Biggar was
to preach in some country meeting-house, to enjoy
the great luxurj- of at least seeing that never-to-be-
forgotten face, and hearing the musical tones of his
voice. Erom the time tliat he preached his in-
duction sermon in Rose .Street church, to the hour
of his death, it was my unspeakal)le delight to sit
under his ministr}-, and enjoy much of his personal
friendshiji. The cliaractcr of tlie attendance, from
first to last, both at home and abroad, botli in his
early and later years, was such as to testify the high
estimate formed of his pulpit services, and carries
the mind back to kindred scenes witnessed in the
early history of our church. On a .Sabl)ath-day,
between sermons, I have seen groups of intelligent
working people speaking earnestly together of the
impressive truths uttered jjy him in the morning, and
waiting anxiously for the afternoon or evening ser-
vice; and then the crowds were so dense, that he
was frequently led from the session-house to tlie
jiulpit. liand to hand across llie tops of the pews."

While such was the character, and such tlie
efil'cts, of Mr. Brown's preaching, his Saljljatii min-
istrations were accompanied witii an amount and
variety of every-day duties, which of tliemselves
wf)uld have been suflicient for any ordinary man.
They were, however, diligently ])erronne(l, while
additional tasks of a more indirect and fortuitous
character, but perhajw not less necessary and useful,
were cheerfully undertaken and succes>fully carried
through. Theie chiefly referred to home anil foreign
religious missions, the gratuitous instruction of young
students in training for the ministry, and the defence
of Christian truth against its numerous assailants
whether within the church or without. The Scottish
church, in all its forms, especially demands a work-
ing clergy, and it is in EdinburL;h that their work is
most abundant. But amidst all this nniltiplicity of
toil, Mr. Brown continued to be a diligent stiulent:
in manhood anrl old age, and on\\ard to the clo-e of
life, he was always seeking to perfect what he hnd
already learned, or acquire something new, while

every fresh attainment was made subservient to his
favourite investigations in theology. In 1829 he was
transferred from his church in Rose Street to that of
Broughton Place, and while the change filled this
large building with a regular audience, the number
of members, which at first was 600, rose to 1200. In
the autumn of 1S30 he had the degree of D.D. con-
ferred upon him by Jefferson College, Pennsylvania.
In 1834 he was elected to the chair of exegetical
theology in the Secession church, and thus, in
addition to his pastoral duties, the training of
students for the ministry was devolved upon him.
The importance of such a charge may be surmised
from the fact, that during the twenty-four annual
sessions, over which his tenure of office extended,
not much less than a thousand students had passed
under his hands. How well he was qualified for
the office, the nature of his library, and his mastery
of its contents, was one of many proofs. It contained
several thousand volumes, many of them being rare
and valuable, and all of them select and useful — the
accumulation of a life-time, and purchased from a
scanty revenue — and with these he was so well
acquainted, that he could give an analysis of every
book in the collection. When the Voluntary Con-
troversy commenced. Dr. Brown, as might be ex-
pected, coincided with his dissenting brethren; and
when the Disruption occurred, by which the Church
of Scotland was rent, and a new secession established
still greater than the first, Dr. Brown watched every
step of the movement with deep interest. Another
subject of interest, which involved him in controversy,
was the Edinburgh annuity tax for the support of
the city clergy of the Establishment. This impost,
in common with many of the Edinburgh dissenters,
he refused to pay upon the plea of conscience; and
to justify his refusal, he published two lectures on
the subject, which by subsequent additions were ex-
panded into a goodly volume. Independently of
the popularity of this work among dissenters in
general, its abstract merits were so great, that Lord
Brougham thus wrote of it: "I have never seen the
subject of civil obedience and resistance so clearly
and satisfactorily discussed." But not content with
a simple protest, Dr. Brown was ready to endure
those legal penalties with which non-payment of the
tax was visited; and once and again his household
goods were distrained and sold by the civic autliorities,
in consecpience of his refiisal to ])ay the tax. It was
a painful predicament in which to stand, which
fortunately, however, did not long continue, for in
consequence of domestic changes, unconnected with
this impost, he found it necessary to remove beyond
the boundaries of the royalty of Edinburgh, where
the annuity tax had no hold. But a more painful
subject was the "atonement controversy," which
arose in the Secession itself, into which 1 >r. Brown
was com]ielled to enter, and that lasted during five
years of keen and vexatious debate, in the course of
which he was charged by the opposite party with
having advocated heterodox and unscrijitural senti-
ments. The doctor appealed to the .Synod and de-
manded a trial, the rcsidt of which was a conqiletc
accjuittal, while his congregation expressed their con-
fidence in liim as a teacher of soimd doctrine by a
gift of ;^200, and other tokens of affection, \\hen the
trial had ended.

A colleague having been apjiointed to him in 1842,
and the vexatious atonement controversy having
closed in 184^, Dr. lirown had leisure for a return
to that kind of theological authorshi]> by \shieh his
re]iutation, as well as uscfiilness, was the most ])er-
niniK-ntly insured. In 1848 he published, in three
volumes, his J:xJvsitory Discourses on titc First

JOHN BROWN, D.D. ROBERT BROWN.

185

Epistle of the Apostle Peter. These discourses had
been prcacliod to his congregation, at intervals,
during a period of sixteen years, and were now puh-
lishecl at their urgent request. Being delivered in
the form of lectures, fashioned upon the old Scottish
model, they may be properly considered as a com-
mentary, where the critical and analytical learning is
subordinated to the popular intelligence .and practi-
cal bearing of the expositions. The work was
favoural)ly received both in Britain and America, and
in scholarship alone 't rivalled the best commentaries
of the (ierman school of theology, with a more sound
and practical character than they can generally lay
claim to. His next work of importance, also in three
volumes, having for its title. Discourses and Sayings
of our Lord Jesus Christ, Illustrated in a Series of
Expositions, appeared in 1850. His chief aim in
this publication, for the illustration of wliich hundreds
of volumes in various languages had been consulted,
was to show the pre-eminent place which the person
of Jesus holds in the Christian faith, as opposed to
the rationalists of the age. "A personal deity," he
writes, "is the soul of natural religion; a personal
Saviour, the real living Christ, is the soul of revealed
religion. How strange that it should not be im-
possible— how sad, that through a perverted ingenuity
it should not be uncommon — in reference to both of
these, to convert that into a veil wliich was meant
to be a revelation." As a sequel to his Discourses
and Sayings of our Lord, Dr. Brown, in 1850, pub-
lished .•/;/ Exposition of our Lord^s Intercessory
Prayer, in one volume. His next work, which
appeared in 185 1, was entitled " The Resurrection of
Life, being an exposition in one volume of i Cor. xv."
In 1852 he puljlished his work called 7'he Sufferings
and Glories of the Messiah, and in 1S53 appeared his
Exposition of the Epistle to the Galatians. This \\-ork,
dedicated to the ministers, preachers, and students
wiio had studied exegetical theology under his care,
although comprised in a single unpretending volume,
was one of the most carefully laboured of his writings,
114 critical and hermeneutical treatises having been
consulted in the course of its preparation.

As the preceding works, although comprising ten
volumes, had been published within little more than
five years, it was time that their author should rest,
and accordingly three years elapsed before he resumed
his jien. He then, towards the close of 1S56, and
when he was seventy-two years old, published his
work entitled Parting Counsels, being an exposition
of 2 Pet. i., to which were added some other dis-
courses of public interest. In the following year, he
published his Analytical Exposition of the Epistle of
Paul to the Romans, a subject which had exercised
his mind for more than forty years, and upon which
a vast amount of learning was concentrated. He
intended to have produced upon this portion of
Scripture an extensive commentary, but feeling the
effects of old age, and the approach of death, was
conqielled to forego his design. In stating this, he
.adds, "Vet I am unwilling to go hence, without
leaving some traces of the labour I have bestowed
on this master-work of the apostle; without contri-
buting some assistance, however limited, toward the
production of what, whenever jiroduced, will mark
an era in the history of Scrijitural exegois, — a com-
plete exjiosition of the l''i>isiie to the Romans. For-
bicKlen to inuld the tenqile, I would yet tlo what I
can to furnish materials to him who shall be honoured
to raise it." His c<MUril)ution in this case was a
valuable volume of more than 600 pages. ( )ne work
)'et remained, an Exposition of the Epistle to the
ILl>re:os. which he had prepared fur the press, but
did not live to publish.

While the last years of Dr. Brown were tlms spent
in a round of ceaseless activity, in which the duties
of minister, professor, and author were so faithfully
discharged, the esteem which he had won from the
world at large was emjihatically expressed when the
fiftieth anniversary of his ministry had arrived.
This was on the 6th of February, 1856, and on the
8th of April the event was celebrated as a religious
jubilee in his church of Broughton I'lace, and in the
evening in Tanfield hall. The addresses delivered
by the chief ministers of his own and other religious
denominations bore striking testimony to his worth
and the high appreciation of his character, while not
the least eloquent was a gift of /610 presented to him
by his congregation as a token of their esteem and
gratitude. Although Dr. Brown had never at any
time been rich, he devoted the whole of this sum,
with an additional donation of ^^50 from his own
pocket, towards the formation of a fund for the relief
of aged and impoverished ministers. In 1857 his
increasing debility obliged him to resign his pro-
fessorship, and in the following year his ministerial
charge, after which he patiently awaited that solemn
change from time to eternity for which his w hole life
had been a preparation. On the 13th of October,
1858, he passed away so gently that it seemed the
tranquil act of falling asleep, after he had expressed
his joyful hopes of immortality, and bid his sorrow-
ing friends farewell. A week after, his remains were
interred in the Ne\v Calton bur}ing-ground; and the
funeral, which was attended by ministers of various
denominations, and a concourse of mourners as such
an occasion had never collected in Edinburgh,
showed the public sense of such a bereavement.

The character of Dr. Brown — his acquirements
and accomplishments as a minister, professor, scholar,
and Christian expositor — can be but faintly under-
stood from this brief sketch of his history. His
eloquence survives, but only in the memory of the
living, while his authorship was of a kind that re-
quires whole years fully to appreciate. But it will
stand the test, and on that account will only be the
more lasting. It is only necessary to add to this
memoir, that Dr. Brown was twice married. His
first wife v.as Miss Jane Ximmo of Glasgow, who
died in May, 1816. His second wife was Margaret
Fisher Cnnn, daughter of Alexander Crum, Esq.,
of Thornliebank, near Glasgow, whom he married
after a widowhood of nineteen years, and \\lio died
in 1 84 1.

BROWN, Robert, D.C.L. This eminent bo-
tanist, whom his friend Baron Humboldt character-
ized as the "botaniconnn facile juinceps,"' was the
son of a .Scottish Episcopalian minister, and \\a-
born at Montrose on the 2lst of Decemljcr, 1773.
His education was prosecuted first at the Marisclial
College, .-\berdeen, and subsequently at the univer-
sity of Edinbuigh, where he finished his course ol
medical study in 1795, in which year he acconqir.ni!..'
a fencible regiment to Ireland, in the ilouMc c;-1'.il;*\
of ensign and assistant-surgeon. Near the cL'se oi
the eighteenth centuiy he had returned to Eiliy.l'Uii^h.
where he juiblished his first scientific jiajxr on tin-
-■Vsclepiade.^ in the I'ransaclious rf t'u- 11 iiiir'-iii::
Society, and on the 20th of Xoveinbcr. \~<,>^. lie
was elected an associate of the l.iniuvan .'^■■eie'v k<\
Eondon.

The remarkal)le aptitude <if Robert l!:. wn 1'. r
botany, and his proficiency in ibe -t ieiue, L.^.d now
secured for him the lasting frien'i-l'.:;.' "f >;r Jo-e] h
Banks, at who-e recommeP.'i.K;. -n he was att.iched in
kSoi as naturali-t to Hi- M.\ics;>'~ -\\:\^ //.:■■...'./ .'A;-,
t!;en commissioned under the cmr.iar. i of Captain

ROBERT BROWN-

THOMAS BROWN.

Flinders to make a survey of the co,ast of Australia.
Relinquishing his medical and military commissions,
Brown eagerly embarked in an enterprise where his
favourite stutly would find such scope; and in the
long exploration of the Ittvcslii^alitr on the extensive
coast of Australia, and its rocks, coral reefs, and
shifting sandbanks, he zealously j)rosecuted his dis-
coveries among the flora of this new continent, with
the growing fame of which his name will henceforth
be indelibly associated. lie did not return to Eng-
land until the end of 1 805, bringing with him nearly
4000 species of plants, many of which had hitherto
been unknown in botanical science, and an inex-
haustible store of new ideas in relation to the char-
acters, ilistribution, and affinities of the smgular
vegetation which distinguishes the continent of
Australia from ever\- other region. To arrange these
specimens, to study them in tiicir generalization and
detail, and to publisli the results of these labours,
forni;.'d to Brown the work of his future years. But
it was a labour of love, which he prosecuted with en-
thusiasm, and the world was com])elled to recognize
his superiority. Hitherto the system in natural science
of Jussieu liad been little known in England, or in-
deed in any country except France; but its adoption
by Robert Brown — who was now accounted the fust
botanist of the age — and the modifications and im-
provements he introduced in it, made it be regarded
as far superior to the Linnivan method, which it
generally superseded.

On the return of Brown from his exploration, laden
with the botanical treasures of .\ustralia, his labours
were rewarded by his being appointed librarian to
the Linnxan Society. After the death of Dryander
ill 1 8 10 he received the charge of the nolile library
and splendid collections of his friend, .Sir Joseph
Banks, who bequeathed to him their enjoyment for
life, with the house in which these collections were
contained, and an annuity of between ;i^200 and
_;{^300 a year. At a later period these scientific trea-
sures were transferred, with 15rown's consent, to the
British Museum, in which he was apj^ointed keeper
of botany. Tlie public distinctions that were succes-
sively conferred upon him showed how highly his
contributions to science were valued, and himself
esteemed. In 18 10 he was elected a Fellow of the
Royal Society. lie was a meml^er of the Institute
of France, and also of the Imperial L. C. Academy
of Germany, and was enrolled as an honorary memijer
in almost every minor society in ail parts of the old
and new world. He received during the adminis-
tration of Sir Robert Beel a j)ension of ;[{^200 per
annum in recognition of his merits and pui)lic services.
From the university of Oxfjrd, in 1832, he received
the honorary degree of D.C.L., in company with
Brewster, Dalton, and Farraday. In 1849 he l)ecamc
presi<lent to tiie Linna-an Society; and lie was invested
by the king of Prussia with tlie decoration of tlie
highest Prussian civil order, pour Ic incrite, of which
Humboldt wxs the chancellor.

As an autiior, Roliert Brown did not produce bulky
volumes; on the contrary, witli two excepticjiis, tliey
are independent C(jmmunications pul)Iislied in tlie
transactions of vari<jus societies, or in tiie a])pen(lix
to narratives of scientific expeditions. \\\ tliis firm
they would have been somewliat inaccessilile to the
general scientific jiublic, had they not, u]) to the year
1834, lieen carefully collected liy the late Dr. Xecs
von Essenlieck, president of tlie Inijierial Leoj).
Carol, .\cademy of Germany, who pulilishcd them in
five octavo volumes, under the title of Kohcrl Jiro-ti'it's
Vcrmischti; Schriflen. The excellence of this collec-
tion, and the ricii knowledge contained in the articles,
will make every lover of botanical science regret that

the collection was not continued still farther onward,
and made more complete. The mere headings of
these articles suffice to show the universality of
Brown's botanical knowledge. His first separate
publication after his return to England, which ap-
peared in 1 810, was the first volume of his Prodonius
I'Yone A'i.>zue Ilollaiidiix ct Iiistilcc Van Dienicn; but
some unlucky critical remarks in the Edinburgh Re-
•i'iciu upon the classicality of his Latin made him
withdraw the volume, so that it is chiefly known in
Von Essenbeck's collection. In 1830, however,
Brown seemed to think better of it, and issued a sup-
plement to the Prodoinus, the only one that ever ap-
peared. His second great work, the PlcDitic Javaii-
!(-,c Paricvt's, was published in conjunction with
Ur. Horsfield and Mr. J. J. Bennett, and was com-
pleted within the years 1838 and 1852.

Thus silently, in contrast to his merits and the hon-
ourable recognition of those who could estimate them,
the life of Robert Brown passed onward to the close.
He was modest and shy of distinctions, so that he was
eminently one of those who "have honour thrust upon
them." But he had friends who understood and loved
him well, and one of them, a distinguished contempo-
rary, has thus delineated his personal worth: "Those
who were admitted to the privilegeof his intimacy, and
who knew him as a man, will bear unanimous testi-
mony to the unvarying simplicity, truthfulness, and
benevolence of his character. With an appearance
of shyness and reserve in the presence of strangers,
he combined an open-heartedness in relation to his
familiar friends, and a fund of agreeable humour,
never bitter or caustic, but always appropriate to the
occasion, the outpourings of which it was delightful
to witness. But what distinguished him above all
other traits was the singular uprightness of his judg-
ment, which rendered him on all difficult occasions
an invaluable counsellor to those who had the privi-
lege of seeking his advice. How profoundly these
admirable qualities had endeared him to the hearts
of his friends was unmistakably manifested by the
sympathetic tenderness with \\hicli his last hours
were watched and soothed. With his faculties un-
clouded to the last, he died on the lOth instant [June,
1858], surrounded by his collections in the room
which had formerly been the library of Sir Jose]ih
Banks. 'It was in the year l8iO,'says one of his
distinguished friends, who contriliutetl greatly to
relieve the sufferings of his last illness, 'that I first
became acquainted with Mr. Ih-own, within three
feet of the same place, in the same room where I saw
him so nearly drawing his last breath tliree days ago.
He was the same simple-minded, kind-hearted man
in November 1810 as he was in June 1S58 — nothing
changed but as time changes us all.'"

BROWN, TiroMAS, a distinguished modern philo-
sojihical writer, the son of the Rev. Samuel Brown,
minister of tlie jiarish of Kirkm.abreck in the stewarty
of Kirkcudliright, was born at the manse of that
parish, January 9, 1778. Deprived of his father
when between one and two years old, Thomas
Brown was removed to Edinburgh, where for some
years he lived luider the charge of his widowed
mother, l.y her he was taught the elements of
learning, at a singularly early age, accpiiring the
wlicile aljihabet, it is said, by one effort, or to use
other words, in one lesson, and everything else with
the same amazing facility. When between f lur and
five years of age, he was able to read the Scri])tures,
and also, it would ajipear, partly to understand
them. One day, at that peri<i(l of his life, he was
found sitting on the floor of his mother's ]iar!our,
with a large family Bible on his knee, which he was

THOMAS BROWN.

187

dividing into different parts with his hand: being
asked jocularly if he intended to preach, and was
now choosing a text, he said, "No, I am only wish-
ing to see what the evangelists differ in; for they do
not all give the same account of Christ." From the
kindly tutelage of his mother he was removed in the
seventh year of his age, and placed by his maternal
uncle, Captain Smith, in a school at Camberwell,
from which in a short time he was transferred to one
at Chiswick, where he continued for some years.
In these ami two other academies he spent the years
between seven and fourteen, and acquired a perfect
classical education. In 1792 he returned to the
maternal roof at Edinburgh, and commenced a course
of attendance at the university. At this period of
his life he was deeply read in Englisli belles-lettres,
and had even collected a considerable library, which,
however, was lost at sea in its passage from England
to Scotland. Having gone to Liverpool to spend the
vacation of 1793 ^^'i^h some friends, he became, boy
as he was, the intimate friend of Dr. Currie, the
amiable biograplier of Burns, who is believed to
have been the earliest cause of his directing his mind
to metaphysical studies, by placing in his hands the
first volumes of Professor Dugald Stewart's Elei)ieitts
of the Philosophy of the Hitman Mind, then just pub-
lished. The impressions he received from this work
were deepened next winter, when he attended its
author's prelections in the moral philosophy class at
Edinburgh College. Yet, much as he admired Pro-
fessor Stewart, he did not fail, even at the early age
of sixteen, to detect that deficiency of analysis which
often lurks under the majestically flowing veil of his
language and imagery. According to the late Dr.
Welsh, whose very pleasing memoir of Dr. Brown
is here folliiweil, the sciiolar took an early oppor-
tunity of presenting to his master a few remarks
which he had thrown together in reference to one of
his theories. "Those who remember the dignified
demeanour of Mr. .Stewart in his class, which was
calculated to convey the idea of one of those great
and gifted men who were seen among the groves of
tiie academy, will duly apjireciate the boldness of
our young philosopher. With great modesty he
read his observations; to which Sir. Stewart, with
a candour that was to be expected from a philo-
sopher, but wliich not the less on that account did
him infinite honour, listened patiently, and then,
with a smile of wonder and admiration, read to him
a letter which he had received from tlie distinguished
M. Prevost of Geneva, containing the same argu-
ment which Dr. Brown had stated." This delighlfiil
incident was the commencement of an acquaintance
between the master and the pupil, which led to
more intimate relations, and only ended with the
death of Dr. Brown. The varied and profound ac-
quirements of this extraordinary young man, soon
attracted to him the attention and friendship of many
otlier persiin.iges, distinguislied by academic rank and
literary reputation, especially Professors Robison,
Playfair, and Black, and Messrs. Horner, Leyden,
Reddie. and Erskine. Ere he had completed his
twentieth year, he was led, by the spirit of philoso-
phical inquiry, to write Ol'Sir-'ations iipot Dr.
Darwin s /.x^noinia. in a pamjihlet that far surpassed
the work v.liich liad called it forth. It appeared in
179S, and, while it excited a^toni>h!nent in those
wlio knew the year> nf the author, was received in
other rpiartors a^ tlie work "fa vi'teran in ])hiloso])hv.
Dr. Welsh justly cli irac'orizes it a^ one of the mo>t
remarkable excnq^lihcations of ]iremature intellect
which has ever been exhibited, an<l states that,
though unfortunate in its object, and the exjiosure
of an unworthy production, it is I'ound to contain the

germ of all Dr. Brown's subsequent discoveries as to
mind, and of those principles of philosophizing by
which he was guided in his future inquiries. Dr.
Brown at this time belonged to an association of
young men, which, whether from its peculiar object,
the celebrity since acquired by several of its members,
or one remarkable result of its existence, must be
acknowledged as possessing no ordinary claims to
attention. It was called the Academy of Physics,
and its object is described in the minutes of its' first
meeting to have been, "the investigation of nature,
the laws by which her phenomena are regulated, and
the history of opinions concerning these laws." The
first members were Messrs. Brougham, Er,-,kine,
Reddie, Brown, Rogerson, P.irbeck, Logan, and
Leyden ; to whom were afterwards joined Lord
Webb Seymour, the Rev. Sydney Smith, and Messrs.
Horner, Jeffrey, and Gillespie. The Academy pro-
secuted its investigations with great assiduity and
success for about three years; like many other clubs,
the sjiirit in which it originated began to change
with the changed years and altered views of its
members; it flagged, failed, and was finally broken
up. The remarkable result of its existence, above
alluded to, was the establishment of the Edinbitri^h
Kez'iciv. The first writers in this work were Jeffrey,
Brougham, Sydney Smith, Homer, and Brown.
The leading article of the second number upon
Kant's Philosophy, v.'as by the last of these gentle-
men. Mr. Brown, however, did not long continue
to contribute; a misunderstanding with the gentle-
man who superintended the publication of the third
number regarding some liberties taken with one of
his articles, was the cause of his retirement.

Brown's first ideas as to a profession led him to
choose the bar, and for a twelvemonth he prosecuted
the dry studies of the law. An insurmountable
repugnance, however, to this pursuit caused him
afterwards to study medicine. He obtained his
degree of M.D. in 1803, on which occasion he was
honoured with the highest commendations from Dr.
Gregory, not only for his proficiency in medical
learning, but for the amazingly fluent and eUgant
style of his Latinity, of which no one could judge
better than that learned professor, himself acknow-
ledged to be the best Latinist of his time in Scot-
land. Previous to this period, camely in iSoo,
when he was only twenty-two years of age, his
friends had, unsuccessfully, endeavoured to obtain
for him the chair of rhetoric; but a system by which
the clergy of the university seat were almo>t in-
variably jireferred to the vacant chairs, bla-ted his
hopes on this occasion. This disa]:>pointment, with
his antipathy to the courtly party of the church, by
which it was patronized, seems to have insjiireii him
with a vehement aversion to a system which can
only be jialliated by a consideration of the narrow
stipends then enjoyed by the clerg}-, and the pro-
priety of enriching, by this oblique means, the jro-
spects which were to induce men of abilitic> 1" ciitcr
the church. U]ion the promotion of Mr. Playf.iir t"
the chair of natural philosophy, Mr. I.t-lie cnq ctcd
for the vacant chair of mathematics \\':\\\ a clt.i\L;y-
man whose attainments in that stu'ly. tli"'.;.:h ni^re
than ropcctable, certainly could ii'it 1'l- ]Incc'ii'n
an equality with thu-e nf tlie 0|i]>< -i';..; L,ii'.<;;'..'ite.
The church party, knowing that they c.uM ixt
make out any su]>eri'ir qualil'icntii i> in tluir cm-
didate on the score "f inathematic-. cn'.-avn-.ri-'l to
produce the >anie effect by ik-preci.-.t;r.__; Mr. 1.c~!.l- >
qualifications on the sore "\ rcIi^'i'Ti. liicir ] r""f
lay in a note to Mr. I.e-lie"s e-ay mii heat, o-ntairi-
ing an ex]u-es>icin of ajqT'lati' a; re-; rctin^' Humes
doctrine of causation. Tlic car.v.v-, whxli lay i:i the

iSS

THOMAS BROWN.

town-council, was the cause of great excitement in
the literary world, and for some time absorbed every
other topic of discourse in Edinburgh. Dr. Brown
was tempted by his feelings on this subject to come
forward with an c>say, ilisproving the inferences
which were drawn from Mr. Leslie's note; an essay
which, in a subsequent edition, he expanded into
a complete treatise on cause and effect. Through
the influence of this powerful appeal, and other
similar expressions of public feeling, the patrons of
the chair were sh.imed for once out of their usual
practice, and Mr. Leslie received the appointment.

Dr. Brown had before this period publishetl two
volumes of miscellaneous poems, which, thougii they
did not meet with brilliant success, are yet to be
admired as the effusions of an ingenious and graceful
mind. In 1S03, immediately after receiving his
diploma, he beg.m to practise as a physician, and he
hatl hitherto met with considerable success. He
was now (1S06) taken into partnership by Dr.
CJregory, and for some time his attention was occu-
]iied more exclusively by his jirofession than was at
all .agreeable to one disposed like him to give up
worldly advantages for the sake of a darling study.
The prospect of an occupation more germane to his
mind opened up to him in the winter of 180S-9,
when the state of Mr. Stewart's health induced him
to request the services of Mr. Brown as his temporary
substitute. The lectures which he delivered in this
capacity attracted much attention, on account of
their marvellous display of jirofound and original
thought, of co]iious reading, of matchless ingenuity,
and of the most admiraljle elocution; this last ac-
complishment having been acipiired by Dr. Brown
in the ordinary course f>f his school studies. "The
Moral Philosophy Cla^s at this periotl presented a
very striking a>pect. It was not a crowd of youthful
students led into transports of admiration by the
ignorant enthusiasm of the moment; distinguished
members of tlie bench, of the bar, and of the pulpit,
were daily present to witness the powers of this
rising philosopher. Some of the most eminent of
the professors were to be seen mixing willi the
students, and Mr. I'layfair, in jiarticular, was present
at every lecture. Tiie originality, and depth, and
clo(|uence of tlie lectures, had a very marked effect
upon the young men attending the university, in lead-
ing them to metaphysical si)ecuiations." — (llWs/i^s
J/c-mcir. ) The elTect of lhe>e exhibitions was so
great, that when .Mr. Stewart, two years after, cx-
j)ressed a wish to have Dr. Brown oft'icially conjoined
to him in the chair of moral philosophy, the usual
influence in favour of the clergy was overcome with
little difficulty. From the commencement of the
session of iSlo-ll, he .acted as the substitute of Mr.
Stewart, who now retired to the country; and, what
is certainly very wonderful, he wrote tlie %\holc of
his first cour>e of lectures during the evenings wliich
preceded the days on which they were delivered.
After the first and most diffieult step had been got
over. Dr. Brown obtained a little leisure to cultivate
that poetical vein which had ail alutig bLcn one of
his own favourite exercises of thought; and accord-
ingly, in 1814, he published his largest versified
Wfjrk, entitled '/'/u' ]\ira,iisc- of Co/kUls. As this
poem appeared anonymously, its success, wliicli was
considerable, must have given him high gratifieatinn.
He was, therefore, tem]>ted next year to bring firth
another under the title of V'/u- ll'iiiti/i'/rr iii .Vo-t'iry.

The health of Dr. Brown had never lieengiMid;
and it was now the annual custom of this amiable
and gifted being to retire during the summer vacation
to some sequestered and beautiful nook of his
romantic native land, in order to enjoy the country

air and exercise. Sometimes he would plant himself
in some Swiss-like spot, hanging between Highland
and Lowland, such as the village of Logic in Glen-
devon. At other times he would lose himself in the
woody solitudes of Dunkeld. He had all his life a
fondness for romantic and rugged scenery, amidst
which he would occasionally expose himself to con-
siderable risks. Walking was his favourite exercise,
as he was thus able to pause and admire a rock, a
wiKl flower, a brook, or whatever else of the beautiful
jiresented itself. To his gentle and affectionate dis-
position, one object always appealed with irresistible
power — namely, a cottage smoking amidst trees: he
never could pass a scene of that kind without pausing
to ruminate upon the inexplicable sympathy which
it seems to find in almost every breast. Though
possessing a heart as open as daylight, the weakly
health of Dr. Brown, and the abstraction of his
studies, seem to have checked that exuberant feeling
which assumes the form called love; it is the impres-
sion of one of his surviving friends that he never ex-
perienced that sensation, at least to any extent worthy
of the name. His affections were devoted to his
mother, his sisters, nature, books, studies, literary
fame. He seemed to have none for "the sex." In

181 7 his feelings sustained a dreadful .shock in the
death of the former relative, who had been his first
instructress, and to whom he bore an affection border-
ing upon reverence. Her remains were first placed
in a vault in Edinburgh; and at the end of the
winter-session moved to the family burying-ground
in the old churchyard of Kirkmabreck. This romantic
and secluded spot Dr. Brown had always viewed
with great interest. A few years before, in visiting
his father's grave, he had been altogether overcome,
and when he saw the earth closing in upon all that
remained of a mother that was so dear to him, "and
the long grassy mantle cover all," his distress was
such as to affect every person who saw him. In

1818 Dr. Brown published a poetical tale, entitled
Agues. But his reputation in this walk of literature
was not on the increase. His mind by no means
wanted poetical feeling and imagery; but he never
could prevent the philosopher from intruding upon
his warmest visions, and accordingly there is a
decided tameness in all his verses. It may be said,
that, if he had not been a great philosopher, he
would have been a greater jioet; and, on the other
hand, if he had not attempted poetry, at least his
living reputation as a philosopher would have been
soinewhat enhanced.

Towards the end of 1S19 the ill health of Dr.
Brown began to assume an alarming aspect, anti
early in the ensuing year he found himself so weak
as to be obliged to apjioint a substitute to deliver his
lectures. This substitute was Mr. John Stewart,
another of the devotees of science, and, like himself,
destined soon to sink prematurely beneath the weight
of intellectual exertion. Of Brown it might truly be
saifl, that an active s]iirit had worn out the slender
and attenuated frame in which it was enshrined. At
the recommendation of his ]ihysicians, he took a
voy.age to London, and establislied himself at P>r(jmp-
ton, tJien a healthy village \n the vicinity, but now
involved in the spreading masses of the great city.
Here he gradually grew weaker and weaker, until
the 2(1 of .April, when he gently breathed his last.

"Dr. Brown," says his reverend biographer, "was
in height rather above the micUlle size, abiuit five
feet nine inclurs; his chest bro.ad and round; his hair
brown; his features regular; his forehead large and
prominent; his eyes dark gray, well formed, with
vei-y long eye-lashes, which g.ave them a ^■e^y soft
and pleasing expression; his nose might be saitl to be

THOMAS BROWN WILLIAM LAWRENCE BROWN.

189

a mixture of the Roman and Grecian, and his mouth
and chin bore a striking resemblance to those of the
Buonajiarte family. The expression of his counten-
ance altogether was that of calm reflection. . . .
Ills temper was remarkably good; so perfect was the
command he had over it, that he was scarcely ever
heard to say an unkind word. Whatever provoca-
tion he received, he always consulted the dignity of
his own character, and never gave way to anger. Yet
he never allowed any one to treat him with disre-
spect; and his pupils must remember the efTect of a
single look in producing, instantaneously, the most
perfect silence in his class. . . . At a very
early period, Dr. Brown formed those opinions in
regard to government to which he adiiercd to the
end of his life. Though he was not led to take any
active part in politics, he felt the liveliest interest in
the great questions of the day, and his zeal for the
diffusion of knowledge and of liberal opinion, was
not greater than his indignation at every attempt to
impede it. The most perfect toleration of all liberal
opinions, and an unshackled liberty of the press,
were the two subjects in which he seemed to take
the most interest, and which he seemed to consicler
as most essential to national happiness and pro-
sperity. In his judgment upon every political ques-
tion, he was determined solely by its bearings upon
the welfare of the human race; and he was very far
from uniformly approving of the measures of the
j^arty to which he was generally understood to be-
long. Indeed, he often said that liberty, in Scot-
land at least, suffered more from the Whigs than tlie
Tories — in allusion to the departure he conceived to
be sometimes made from professed princijjles with a
view to present advantage. . . . He was inti-
mately acquainted with the principles of almost all
the fine arts, and in many of them showed that prac-
tice only was wanting to insure perfection in his
powers of execution. His acquaintance with lan-
guages was great: French, Italian, and German he
read with the same ease as English. He read also
.Spanish and Portuguese, though not so fluently.
Among the more prominent features of Dr.
Brown's character, may be enumerated the greatest
gentleness, antl kindness, and delicacy of mind, united
with the noblest independence of spirit; a generous
admiration of everything affectionate or exalted in
character; a manly contempt for everything mean;
a detestation for everything that even bortlered on
tyranny and oppression; a tndy British love of
li'.^erty, and the most ardent desire for the diffusion
of knowledge, and happiness, and virtue, among
mankind. In private life he was possessed of almost
every cpiality which renders society delightful, and
was indeed remarkable for nothing more than for
the love of home and the happiness he shed around
him there. It was ever his strongest wish to make
every one who was with him happy; his exquisite
delicacy of perception gave him a quick fore-feeling
of whatever niigiu be hurtful to any one; and his
wit, his varied information, his classical ta>te, and,
a!ii)ve all, hi-^ mild and gentlemanly manners, and
his truly philosophic evenness of tem]-)er, diffused
around hint the purest and most refined enjoyment.
Of almost universal knowledge, accpiired by the
most extensive reading, and by wide intercourse with
the world, there was no topic of conversation to which
he seemed a stranger. ... In tlie ]ihiIo>o]>hic
love of truth, and in the jiatient investigation of it,
Dr. Brown may he pronounced as at lea>t equal,
and in subtlety of intellect and jiower of analysis, as
superior to any metajihysician that ever c\i>icd.
The predominating (juality in his intellectual char-
acter was unquestionably hi.-, power of a!ia!y.ring, the

most necessary of all qualities to a metaphysician.
It is impossible, indeed, to turn to any page in his
writings that dues not contain some feat of in-
genuity. .States of mind that had been looked upon
for ages as reduced to the last degree of simjilicity,
and as belonging to those facts in our constitution
which the most sce[)tical could not doubt, and the
most subtle could not explain, he brought to the
crucible, and evolved from their simpler elements.
For the most complicated and jmzzling questions
that our mysterious and almost inscrutable nature
presents, he found a quick and easy solution. The
knot that thousands had left in despair, as too com-
plicated for mortal hand to undo, and which others
more presumptuous had cut in twain, he unloosed
with unrivalled dexterity. The enigmas which a
false philosophy had so long propounded, and which,
because they were not solved, had made victims of
many of the finest and most highly gifted men of our
race, he at last succeeded inunriddling." Dr. Bn^wn's
lectures were published after his death, in 4 vcdumes,
8vo, and have deservedly obtained a high reputation.
An account of his life and writings has been ])ub-
lished in one volume 8vo, by the late Rev. Dr.
David Welsh.

BROWN, William Lawrence, D.D., an emi-
nent theological and miscellaneous writer, was bom
January 7, 1755, at Utrecht, where his father, the
Reverend William Brown, wasministerto the English
congregation. In 1757 his father removed with his
family to St. Andrews, in order to undertake the
duties of professor of ecclesiastical historv"; and the
subject of our memoir, having commenced his educa-
tion under his father's care, was placed successively
at the grammar-school and university of that city,
entering the latter at the early age of twelve. His
native abilities, favoured by the fostering care of his
father, enabled him, notwithstanding his immature
years, to pass through his academical course with
distinction; classical literature, logic, and ethics,
being the branches of study to which he chiefly
devoted his attention. After studying divinity for
two years at .St. Andrews, he removed to Utrecht,
where he prosecuted the same study, and also that
of civil law. In 177S, having previously been
licensed by the presbytery of St. Andrews, he suc-
ceeded his uncle as minister of the English church
at Utrecht; a field of exertion too narrow for his
abilities, but which he, nevertheless, cultivated with
the same zeal and application which a conscientious
clergyman might be expected to bestow u]">on one
more extensive. Such spare time as his liuties left
to him he employed in attention to a few jiupils
whom he received into his house. He at the same
time enlarged his range of study, and occasionally
made excursions int() France, (lermany, and Sv. i'/ei-
land. In 17S6 he married his cousin, Aniie fji/a-
beth Brown, by whom he had five sons and l.'V.r
daughters.

The first literaiy cftort of Mr. Brown wr.s r.n
essay on the origin of evil, written tor a ] ri.;e ( ':eri.d
by the curators of the Ilolpian le:,r.cy r.t L ire Jit,
and which was adjudged the second h-.m' ur .Tnv>ng
the essays of twenty-five conijK-titois. tl..;; -t l>c;:;g
])ublishe<l at the expense iif the tn;-t. S.^n alter
this, namely, in 17S4, the university n; .">;. Ai'orev. s
conferred ujion him the degree ot I >. lei' r ir. 1 •iN'ir.ity.
Dr. Ihown was successful in several otlur ] ri.x-
e-savs, two of which were ]i;; IL-Iiei! under ti.e tr.lc-
of .'/;; /■:ss.7v ,■>: //Iv /! .Vr r'' S.y'/:c: r>:. l.oii.ion,
17SS: and .!'>: /^ssdvrr: /■},•. \::/.vr,;.' l..::u::::y.fM^,!,
ICdinhiirgh, 1703. Tlie hr/.-.r !■ -k a more S'lbcr
view of the subject th.^n w.;- generally adoj ted at

190

WILLIAM LAWRENXE BROWX JAMES BRUCE.

the time of its publication; and it accordingly be-
came the means of introducing Dr. Brown to the
notice of the British government. Previously to the
armed interposition of the Prussians in 1788, Dr.
Brown was exposed to so much annoyance on ac-
count of his attachment to the dynasty of Nassau,
that he found it necessary to proceed to London, in
quest of another situation. The event alluded to
not only enabled him to retain his former otTice, but
caused his elevation to a professorship, newly erected
in the university of his native city, for moral philo-
sophy and ecclesiastical history. He unfortunately
was not allowed sufficient time to prei)are the two
elaborate courses of lectures required in this new
situation; and, by his extraordinary exertions to
accomplish what was expected of him, laid the
foundation of ailments, from which he never after-
wards recovered. His inaugural discourse was
puhlishetl under the title of Onilio de Rclii^ionis ct
Pkilosophia: SocidaU et Concordia maxiine Saliitari.
Two years afterwards he was nominated rector of
the university; and on depositing his temporary
dignity, he jironounccd an Oratio dc Imai^iiiatioite
in l'ii,r Iiisiituttouc rc^ciida, which was published in
1790. Though offered the Cheek professorship at
St. Andrews, he continued in Utreclit till the inva-
sion of Holland by the French, in the beginning of
1795, when he was obliged to leave the country in
an open boat, with his wife and five children, be-
sides some other relations. Xot\\ithstanding the
severity of the season, the roughness of the weather,
and the frail nature of the bark to which so many
lives were committed, he reached the English coast
in safety. In London, to which he immediately
proceeded, he met with a friendly reception from
Lord Auckland, to whom he had become known
during his lordship's residence as ambassador at the
Hague, and who now exerted himself so warmly in
his favour, that he was, in the course of a few months,
appointed to succeed Dr. Campbell as professor of
divinity in the Marischal College, Aberdeen; to
which honoura!)Ie api^ointmcnt was soon after added
that of ]irincipal of the same college.

We are informed by the writer of the life of Dr.
Brown in tb.e Encyclopedia Britannica, that "this
new i)rofessorship imposed upon him a very serious
task, that of composing a course of theological
lectures, extending over five sessions. After a re-
view of the different systems of religion which lay
claim to a divine origin, he discussed most amply
tlie evidences and doctrines of natural religion. He
then jiroceeded to the evidences of revealed religion,
of which he gave a very full and learned view. The
Christian scheme farmed the next subject of an in-
quiry, in which the peculiar doctrines of Christianity
were very extensively unfolded. Christian ethics
were also explained; and it formed jiart of his
original plan, to treat of all the great controversies
that have agitated tlie religious world. This i)ortion
of the course was not, however, completed." Besides
attentling to the duties of his chair and ()f his ])rin-
cipality, Dr. Brown officiated as one of the ministers
of the West Church in Aberdeen. A volume of his
sermons appeared in 1803. He also occasionally
attended the General Assembly, where his manly
eloquence aiifl impressive mode of speaking caused
him to be li.^tened to with great respect, though he
never arrived at the character of a leader. While
discharging every public duty with zeal and efficacy,
he did not neglect his favourite pursuits of literature.
In 1809 he puljlished Philemon, or the Progress of
Virtue, a poem, Edinburgh, 2 vols, octavo; and in
1S16 ajipeared his greatest literary effort. An l-'.ssay
on the Existence of a Supreme Creator, Aberdeen,

2 vols, octavo. The latter was the successful com-
l)cting essay, among fifty, for Burnet's first prize of
^^1250; the second, of ^400, being awarded to Dr.
Sumner, afterwards Bishop of Chester. Dr. Brown
also wrote a few pamphlets upon passing occurrences,
political and otherwise; and one or two articles in
Latin, relating to formalities in the university over
which he presided. His last considerable work was
.•/ Comparative Vieru of Christianity, and of the other
P\)rms of Religion which have existed, and still exist,
in the World, particularly -with regard to their Moral
Tendency, Edinburgh, 2 vols, octavo, 1826.

In addition to the preferments already mentioned.
Dr. Brown was honoured, in 1 800, with the appoint-
ment of chaplain in ordinary to the king; and, in
1804, was nominated dean of the chapel-royal, and
of the order of the Thistle. He was, last of all, in
1825, appointed to read the Gordon course of lectures
on practical religion, in the Marischal College.
Though thus bearing such a multiplicity of offices,
Dr. Brown was, upon principle, opposed to plural-
ities, and was, perhaps, only tempted to transgress
the rule in his own case, by the want of adequate
endowments for his two chief offices, those of divinity
professor and of principal.

Dr. Brown died. May 11, 1830, in the seventy-
sixth year of his age. Besides his great talents and
acquirements, he was characterized by many excel-
lent personal qualities. His mind was altogether of
a manly cast; and, though honoured with the regards
of a court, he was incapable of cowering to mere
rank and station. With some warmth of temper,
he was open, sincere, and generous, and entertained
sentiments of unbounded liberality towards his fellow-
creatures of all ranks, and of all countries.

BRUCE, James, a celebrated traveller, bom on
the 14th of December, 1 730, at Kinnaird, in the
county of Stirling. Bruce was by birth a gentleman,
and might even be considered as nobly descended.
He was the eldest son of David Bruce, Es(|. of
Kinnaird, who was in turn the son of David Hay of
Woodcockdale in IJnlithgowshire (descended from
an old and respectable branch of the Hays of Errol),
and of Helen Bruce, the heiress of Kinnaird, who
traced her pedigree to that noble Norman fainih',
which, in the fourteenth century, gave a king to
Scotland. It will thus be observed that the travel-
ler's paternal name had been changed from Hay to
Bnice, for the sake of succession to Kinnaird. The
traveller was extremely vain of his alliance to
the hero of Bannockburn, insomuch as to tell his
engraver, on one occasion, that he conceived him-
self entitled to use royal livci"y! He took it very ill
to be reminded, as he frequently was, that, in reality,
he was not a Bruce, but a Hay, and though the heir
f)f line, not the heir male of even that branch of the
family which he rei)resented. In truth the real
Bruces of Kinnaird, his grandmother's ancestors,
were but descended from a cadet of a cadet of tlie
royal family of Bruce, and, as it will be observed,
sprung off before the family became royal, though
not before it had intermarried with royalty. His
mother Mas the daughter of James Graham, I'sq. if
Airth, dean of the faculty of advocates, and judge (>'(
the high court of admiralty in Scotland — a man dis-
tinguisiicd by his abilities and respected for liis
]niblic and jjrivatc virtues. Unfortunately, the
traveller lost his mother at the early age of three
years — almost the only worldly loss which cannot be
fully compensated. His father marrying a second
time, had an additional family of six sons and two
dangliters.

In his earliest years, instead of the robust frame

'-^-r^irf

JAMES BRUCE.

191

and bold disposition which he possessed in manhood,
Bruce was of weakly heaUh and gentle temperament.
At the .ige of eight years a desire of giving his heir-
ai)parent the best possible education, and perhaps
also the pain of seeing one motherless child amidst
the more fortunate offspring of a second union, in-
duced his father to send him to London, to be
placed under the friendly care of his uncle. Coun-
sellor Hamilton. In that agreeable situation he
spent the years between eight and twelve, when he
was transferred to the public school at Harrow, then
conducted by Dr. Cox. Here he won the esteem of
his instnictors, as well as of many other individuals,
by the extraordinary aptitude with which he ac-
quired a knowledge of classic literature, and the
singularly sweet and amiable dispositions which he
always manifested. To this reputation his weakly
health, and the fear that he was destined, like his
mother, to an early grave, seems to have given a
hue of tenderness, which is seldom manifested for
merely clever scholars. The gentleness of his char-
acter, the result solely of bad health, led him at this
early period of his life to contemplate the profession
of a clergj'man; a choice in which he might, more-
over, be further satisfie<l, from a recollection of his
ancestor, Robert Bruce of Kinnaird, who was the
leading divine in Scotland little more than a century
before. So completely, however, do the minds of
men take colour from their physical constitution,
that on his health becoming confirmed with ad-
vancing manhood, this tame choice was abandoned
for something of a bolder character; wliich, in its
turn, appears to have given way, in still further
increased strength, for something bolder still. He
left Harrow with the character of a first-rate scholar,
in May, 1746, and, after spending another year at
an academy in the study of French, arithmetic, and
geometry, returned, May, 1747, to Kiimaird, where
he spent some months in the sports of the field, for
which he suddenly contracted a deep and lasting
attachment. It was now determined that he should
prepare himself for tlie profession of an advocate; a
road to distinction, which, as it was almost the only
one left to Scotland by the Union, was then, and at
a much later period, assumed by an immense pro-
portion of the young Scottish gentry. He entered,
in the winter of 1747, as a student in the college of
Edinburgh, and attended the lectures on civil law,
Scottish law, and universal history. But the study
was not congenial to his mind, and he probably
thought it a happy event that a return of bad health
relieved him from this bondage. He was remanded
to Kinnaird for exercise and air; and for several
years he remained undetermined as to his future
course of life. Be it remarked, there might have
been no necessity for his leaving the paternal home
in search of fortune, had not the number of his
father's second family diminished his prospects of
wealth from that source.

Having at length resolved upon going to India, at
that time a more adventurous field than it has since
bjconie, Bruce left Scotland, July, 1753, in the
twenty-third yearof lii.-, age, and arriving in London,
was received in the kindest manner by those friends
with whom he had f irmerly resided. While wailing
for the permissiim of the l-'.a-.t India directors to si.'ttle
there as a free trader, he was introduced to Adriana
Allan, the beautiful and most amiable daughter of a
wealthy wine-merchant deceased. An attachment
to this young lady, which M>on jiroved nnitual, once
more changed his destination in life. On making
known his feelings to the surviving jiarent of his
mistress, it was sr.ggosled tliat, in marrying her, he
mi^ht also wed hira-clf to t!ie excellent Inisiness le.'"t

by her father. Love easily overcame every scruple
he might entertain regarding this scheme; and ac-
cordingly, on the 3d February, 1754, he was
married to Miss Allan. For some months Bruce
enjoyed the society of this excellent creature, and
during that time he applied himself to business with
an enthusiasm Ixjrrowed from love. But, unfor-
tunately, the health of his partner began to decline.
It was found necessary that she .should visit the
south of France for a milder climate. Bruce ac-
companied her on this melancholy journey. Con-
sumption outstripped the speed with which they
travelled. She was unable to move beyond Paris.
There, after a week's suffering, she died in his arms.
By this event the destiny of Hnice was once more
altered. The tie which bound him to trade — almost
to existence, was broken. He seems to have now
thought it necessary that he should spend a life of
travel. Abandoning the cares of business to his
partner, and resolving to take an early opportunitv
of giving up his share altogether, he applied himself
to the study of the .Spanish and Portuguese languages,
and also improved his skill in drawing, under a
master of the name of Bonneau, recommended to
him Ijy Mr. (afterwards Sir Robert) Strange. Before
this time he had chiefly cultivated that part of draw-
ing which relates to the science of fortification, in
hopes that he might, on some emergency, find it of
use in military ser\'ice. But views of a more exten-
sive kind now induced him to study drawing in
general, and to obtain a correct taste in painting.
This notice of his application to the study of drawing
we have given in the M-ords of his biographer (Dr.
Murray), because it was long and confidently re-
ported by those who wished to lessen his reputation,
that he was totally and incorrigibly ignorant of the
art.

In July, 1757, he sailed for Portugal, landed at
Corunna, and soon reached Lisbon. He was much
struck by the ways of the Portuguese, many of which
are directly opposite to those of all other nations.
A Portuguese gentleman, showing out a friend, walks
before him to the door; a Portuguese boatman row-
with his face to the front of the vessel, and land-
stern foremost; when a man and woman ride on
horseback, the woman is foremost, and sits with her
face to the right side of the animal. And what, in
Bruce's opinion, accounted for all this contrariety,
the children are rocked in cradles which move from
head to foot. P'rom Portugal, after four months'
stay, Bruce travelled into Spain, where he also spent
a considerable time. The sight of the remains of
Moorish grandeur here insjiired him with the wish of
writing an account of the domination of that people
in .Sjiain ; but he found the materials inaccessible
through the jealousy of the government. Leaving
Spain, he traversed France, visited Brussels, ar.'!.
passing through Holland into Ciermany, there wit-
nessed the battle of Crevelt. Returning l)y Rotter-
dam, he received intelligence of the dentli ot li;-
father, by which event he became laird of Kir.nair'.
The property he thus acquired was soon after co:i-
siderahly increased by the establishment of tlie Cam ai
company, which was supj^lietl witli coal from h;~
mines. He now enqdoyed Irnr.-elf in -tini} ing tl;e
Arabic language, a branch of knowlclge tlien li'.tle
regarded in Biitain. I:; 1761 h.e with-Irew eiitiieh-
from the wine trade. .Vh^ut this time I'.ir.ce t'Tmel
an acquaintance with Mr. I'itt (tiie eiieii, tlieii .",:
the head of affairs, to whom lie jnoju-e 1 a -elienie
for making a descent nj-'n S)\;::i. a^'.ur.st wlrcli
countiT Britain was expcctei! to lieelr.re war.
Tb.ough tliis project came t> n-lliir.g. L-r.! Halifax
had marked the'entervri-::- - L'eniio of tliis Scottish

192

JAMES BRUCE.

gentleman, and proposed to him to signalize the
commencement of the new reign by making dis-
coveries in Africa. It was not part of this proposal
that he should attempt to reach the source of the
Nile; that prodigious exploit, whicli had baffled the
genius of the civilized world for thousands of years,
seemed to Lord Halifax to be reserved for some
more experienced person; his lordship now only
Spoke of discoveries on the coast of Barbary, which
had then been surveyed, and that imiierfectly, by
only one British traveller. Dr. Shaw. For this end
Bruce was appointed to be consul at Algiers. In an
interview with George III., with which he was hon-
oured before setting out, his majesty requested iiim
to take drawings of the niins of ancient architecture
which he should discover in the course of his travels.
It having been provided tliat he sht)uKl spend some
time by the way in Italy, he set out for that countr}-
in June, 1762. He visited Rome, Naples, and
Florence, and fitted himself i)y surveying the works
of ancient art, for the observations he was to make
upon kindred objects in Africa. Here he formed
an acquaintance with a native of Bologna, named
Fuigi Balugani, whom he eng.aged to attend him in
his travels, in tlie capacity of an artist. He at length
sailed from Leghorn to Algiers, which he reached in
March, 1763. Ali I'acha, who then acted as dey in
this barbarous state, was a savage character, not
unlike the celebrated personage of the same name,
whom Lord Byron introduce. 1 to European notice.
An injudicious yielding to his will, on the part of
the English government, who changed a consul at
his request, had .just given an additional shade of
ins )lence and temerity to his character; and he ex-
pected to tyrannize over Bruce as over one of his
own officers. The intrepidity of the new consul, it
may be im.igined, was, under such circumstances,
called into frequent action. He several times
bearded this lion in his very den, always a])parently
indebted for his safety to the very audacity which
might have been expected to provoke his ruin. A
good idea of tiie true British fortitucle which he
exerted under such circumstances, may be gained
from a letter to Lord Halifax, in which, after re-
commending forcible measures, which would have
Ixsen highly dangerous to his own personal security,
he says, — •' I myself have received from a friend some
l)rivate intimations to consult my own safety and
escape. The advice is imjiracticable, nor would I
take it were it not so. Your lordship may depend
upon it, that till I have the king's orders, or find
tha* I can ie of no further service here, nothing
will make me leave .\lgiers but force. One brother
has already, this war, had the honour to lose his life
in the service of his country. Tw(i others, besitUs
myself, are still in it, and if any accident should
hapjien to me, as is most probable from these lawless
butchers, all I beg of his majesty is that he will
graciously ])lease to extend his favour to the sur-
vivors, if de->erving, and that he will make this city
an example to others, how they violate ])ublic faith
and the law of nati(ms." It is this constancy and
firmness in postponing the consideration of danger
to the consideration of duty, which has mainly temiel
to exalt the British character above those of other
nations. Bruce weathered every danger till .\ugust,
1765, when, being relieved by the arrival of another
c<jnsul, he left this piratical stronghoM, an<l began
to prosecute his researches along the coast of Africa.
Landing at Bona, he jiaid a visit to Utica, "out of
respect to the memory of Cato," and then, with a
|iroper retinue for his protection, penetrated into
the interior of the kingdoms of Algiers and Tunis.
On the borders of these states he found a tribe named

the Welled Sidi Boogannim, who are exempted from
taxes on condition of their living exclusively upon
lions; a means of keeping down those enemies of the
public. Dr. Shaw, the only British predecessor of
Bruce in this line of research, had been much laughed
at, and even openly scouted, for having hinted at the
existence of such a custom. His friends at Oxford
thought it a subversion of the established order of
things, that a man should eat a lion, when it had
long passed as almost the peculiar province of the
lion to eat the man. Bruce was exactly the man to
go the more boldly forward when such a lion was in
the way.

After having traversed the whole of these states,
and taken drawings of every antiquity which he
esteemed worthy of notice, he moved further west to
Tripoli, where he was received with great kindness
by Mr. Eraser of Lovat, British consul at that place.
From Tripoli he despatched the greater part of his
drawings to Smyrna, by which precaution they were
saved from the destruction which must have other-
wise been their fate. Crossing the Gulf of Sidra,
which makes a considerable sweep into the northern
coast of Africa, Bruce now reached Bengazi — -the
ancient Berenice built by Ptolemy Philadelphus.
From this place he travelled to Ptolemata, where,
finding the plague raging, he was obliged to embark
hastily in a Greek vessel which he hired to carry him
to Crete. This was perhaps the most unlucky step
he took during the whole of his career. The vessel
was not properly provided with ballast; the sails
defied the management of the ignorant man who
professed to steer it; it had not therefore got far
from shore when a storm drove it to leeward, and
it struck upon a rock near the harbour of Bengazi.
Bruce took to the boat, along with a great number
of the other passengers; but finding that it could not
survive, and fearing lest he should be overwhelmed
by a multitude of drowning wretches, he saw it
necessary to commit himself at once to the sea, and
endeavour to swim ashore. In this attempt, after
suffering much from the violence of the surf, he was
at last successful. He had only, however, become
exposed to greater dangers. A plundering party of
Arabs came to make prey of the wrecked vessel, and
his Turkish clothing excited their worst feelings.
After much suffering he got back to Bengazi, but
with the loss of all his baggage, including many
valuable instruments and drawings. Fortunately,
the master of a French sloop, to whom he had ren-
dered a kindness at Algiers, happened to be lying in
that port. Thrtnigh tlie grateful service of this ])cr-
son he was carried to Crete. An ague, however, had
fixed itself u]"ion his constitution in consetpience of
his exertions in the sea of Ptolemata: it attacked him
violently in C'rete, and he lay for some days danger-
ously ill. On recovering a little, he proceeded to
Rhodes, and from thence to Asia Minor, where he
inspected the ruiiis of Baalbec and Palmyra. By the
time he got back to Sidon he found that his letters
to Europe aniujuncing the loss of his instruments
were answered by the transmission of a new set, in-
cluding a (piadranl from Louis XV., wdio had been
told by ('oiuU Buffon (jf the unhappy affair of ISen-
gazi. In June, 176S, he sailed fnnn Sidon to Alex-
andria, resolved no longer to delay that ])erilous
e.vjiedition which had taken possession of his fancy.
"Previcjus to his first introduction to the \\ateis of
the Nile," says Captain Head, "it may ikjI be ini-
projier, for a moment, calmly and (lis])assionaleIy to
consider how far he was (jualified for the attempt
which he was about to undertake. Being thirty-
eii^lit years of age, he was at that jierioil of life in
which both the mind and body of man are capable

JAMES BRUCE.

193

of their greatest possible exertions. During his
travels ami residence in Euroi>e, Africa, and Asia,
he had become practically acquainted with the reli-
gion, manners, and prejudices of many countries
different from his own; and he had learned to speak
the French, Italian, Spanish, modem Greek, Moor-
ish, and Arai)ic languages. Full of enterprise, en-
thusiastically devoted to the object he had in view,
accustomed to hardship, inured to climate as well as
to fatigue, he was a man of undoubted courage; in
stature six feet four, and with this imposing appear-
ance possessing great personal strength; and lastly,
in every proper sense of the word, he was a gentle-
man; and no man about to travel can give to his
country a better pledge for veracity than when, like
Ikuce, his mind is ever retrospectively viewing the
noble conduct of his ancestors — tiuis showing that he
considers he has a stake in society which, by the
meanness of falsehood or exaggeration, he would be
unable to transmit unsullied to posterity."

From Alexandria he proceeded to Cairo, where he
was received with distinction by the bey, under the
character of a dervish, or soothsayer, which his ac-
quaintance with eastern manners enabled him to as-
sume with great success. It happened — fortunately
for his design — that in the neighbourhood of Cairo
resided a Greek patriarch who had lived some time
under his roof at Algiers, and taught him the
modern Greek language. This person gave him
letters to many Greeks who held high situations in
Abyssinia, besiiles a bull, or general recommendation,
claiming protection for him from the numerous per-
sons of that nation residing in the countr}-. Bruce
had previously actpiired considerable knowledge of
the medical art, as part of that preparatory educa-
tion witli which he had fittetl himself for his great
task. The bey fortunately took ill: Bruce cured
him. His highness, in gratitude, furnished him
with recommendatory letters to a great number of
ruling personages throughout Egypt and along both
shores of the Red Sea. Bruce, thus well provided,
commenced his voyage up the Nile, December 12,
176S, in a large canja or boat, which was to carry
him to Furshoot, the residence of Amner, the sheikh
of Upper Egypt. For two or three weeks he enjoyed
the jileasure of coasting at ease and in safety along
the wonder-studded banks of tliis splendid river, only
going on shore occasionally to give the more remark-
able objects a narrower inspection. He was at Fur-
shoot on the 7th of January, 1769. Advancing hence
to .Sheikh Amner, the encampment of a tribe of
.Arabs, whose dominion extended almost to the coast
of the Red Sea, he was fortunate enough to acquire
the friendship of the sheikh, or head of the race, by
curing him of a dangerous disorder. This secured
him tlie moans of prosecuting his journey in a peace-
able manner. Under the protection of this tribe he
soon rcache.l Co>seir — a fort on the Red Sea — having
previou-Iy, however, sent all his journals and draw-
ings, hitherto completed, to the care of some friends
at Cairo. Bruce sailed from Cosseir on the 5th of
April, and fnr several months he employed himself
in making geographical observations upon the coasts
of this im]virtant sea. On the 19th of -September,
after having f )r the lir>t time determined the latitmle
and longitude of many places, which have since been
found wonderfully correct, he landed at Massuah.
the port of Al)ys-,inia. Here he encountered great
danger and dirfKulty. from tlie savage character of
the ihiyb: or governor of Ma-^uah, who, not regard-
ing the letters carried by Bruce from the Bey of
Cairo, had very nearly taken his life. By the kind-
ness of Acfmiet, a nephew of the naybe, whom
Bruce rescued from a deadly sickness, he was
VOL. I.

enabled to surmount the obstacles presented against
him in this place, and on the 15th November
began to penetrate the country of Abyssinia. In
crossing the hill of Tarenta, a mountainous ridge
which skirts the shore, the traveller encountered
hardships under which any ordinary spirit would
have sunk. Advancing by Dixan, Adowa, and
Axum, he found himself greatly indebted for safety
and accommodation to the letters which he carried for
the Greeks, who formed the civilized class amongst
that rude ])eople. It was in the neighlKJurhood of
Axum that he saw the unfortunate sight (the slicing
of steaks from the rump of a live cow) which was
the chief cause of his being afterwards generally dis-
credited in his own country. On the 14th of Februar^',
after a journey of ninety-hve days fr(jm .Massuah, he
reached (jondar, the capital of Abyssinia, a town
containing about lO.ooo families. The kirjg and his
chief minister Ras Michael, to both of wIkjhi Bruce
had letters of introduction, were now absent with the
army, putting down a rebellion which had been rai'^cd
by Fasil, a turbulent governor of a province. But
Bruce was favourably received by one Ayto Aylo,
a Greek, and chamberlain of the palace. It happened
that the favourite child of Ras Michael was at this
time ill with the small-pox at the country palace of
Koscani. Ozoro Esther, the beautiful young wife
of Ras Michael, and the mother of this child, watched
over the sick-bed with intense anxiety. Bruce, by
the good offices of Ayto Aylo, was introduced to t!ie
distracted mother as a skilful physician; and after
some preliminary civilities, he undertook to cure the
child, in which task he very soon succeeded.

Having thus at once secured favour in a very hiqh
quarter, he waited patiently for two or three weeks,
when the king and Ras Michael, having gained a
victor)-, returned to Gondar, and Bruce was then
presented to them. Ras Michael, at the first inter-
view, acknowledged the powerful nature of Bnice's
recommendations, but explained to him that, owing
to the present convulsed state of the countiy, it
would be difficult to afford him all the protection
that might be wished. It appeared to Michael that
the best way of insuring personal safety and respect
for him throughout the country would be to give \\\\\\
a high ofiice in the king's househoUl. Bruce con-
sented fnmi the conviction that in becoming baalo-
maal, and commander of the Koccob horse, he was
doing his best towards facilitating his jouniey. While
acting in the capacity of baaloniaal — which seems
to have been somewhat like the Ihitihh oft'ice of lord
of the betl-chamber — he secured the kini^'s favour
and admiration by the common school-boy trick <A
shooting a small candle through a dense >ub~ta!ice.
He was now appointed to be governor of a l;;ige
Mahometan province wliich lay on the way lie tie-
signed to take in returning h.ome: this duty, how-
ever, he could perform by dejuity. In May the army
set out from (Jondar to meet the rebel Fa-il. aid
Bruce took that share in the fatigues and perils of il <■
canq^aign which h;> oince reniiereil ncce--ary. Hi.-
was of great ^e. vice in inqiroving tlie di^cqlir.e ol i!..-
army, and was looked upon as a tini>l:ed uarri' r.
.\fter a good deal of marching and counter-n:arJ. :;-_■,
the n.jyal forces gained a ccmqikte \iciory c \er l;;>.i,
whowasconseciuentlyoliiiged to make hi- >i;: 'nr.->;or..
This rebel now liveil on aniicahie term- with tli-,;
king and his ofiicers, and Bri:ce. recoil', etii!-,- the ir.-
tert-sting site of his goverr.nier.t. Ira.-'ied h:n -el; in
performing meclical >er\ii.e- t" 1.:- ; iir.eq ai 1 tiieer-.
Wlien the king came t- a-k r.;;;ee what reward he
would have lor hi- -liare in i'..e eani] aign. th.e en-
t!ni-'a-tic traveller an-wered t!-.a; l.e o;dy wi-hul two
favour.-, — the proixrlv of th.- v;::a^e of Gee~h, with

13

194

JAMES BRUCE.

the spot in its neighbourhood where he understood
the Nile to arise, and a royal mandate obliging Fasil
to facilitate his journey to that place. The king,
smiling at the humility of his desires, granted the re-
quest, only regretting that Vagoube (such was the
name assumed by Bnice in his travels) could not be
induced to ask something ten times more jjrecious.
The attention of the sovereign and his minister were
now distracted by the news of another insurrection in
the western parts of the kingdom; and it was neces-
sary to move the army in that direction. Bruce
made the excuse of his health (which was really bad)
to avoid attendance in this campaign; and at length,
with some dilTiculty, he obtained the king's permis-
sion to set out for Geesh, which he was now resolved
on, notwithstanding that the breaking out of another
rebellion foreboded ill for the continued submis-
sion of Fasil, and consequently for the safety of the
traveller. Bruce set out upon this last great stage
of his journey on the 2Sth of October, 1770, and he
was introduced to the presence of Fasil at a place
called Bamba. Fasil, partly through the representa-
tions of those otTicers to wh(^m Bruce had recom-
mended hmiself, was in reality favourably disposed
to him; but he at first thought proper to afreet a con-
trary sentiment, and represented the design as im-
practicable. In the course of the wrangling which
took place between the two on this subject, Bruce
was so much incensed that his nose spontaneously
gushed with blood, and his servant had to lead him
from the tent. Fasil expressed sorrow at this inci-
dent, and immediately made amends by taking mea-
sures to facilitate Ikuce's journey. He furnished
him with a guide called Woldo, as also seven savage
chieftains of the country for a giuuil, and furthermore
added, what was of greater avail than all the rest —
a horse of his own, richly ca]5arisoned, which was to
go before the travelling party as a symbol of his pro-
tection, in order to insure the respect of the natives.
By way of giving a feasible ajipearance to the jour-
ney, Bruce was invested by Fasil with the property
and governorship of the district of Geesh, in which
the Nile rises; so that this strangely disguised native
of .Stirlingshire, in the kingdom of .Scotland, looked
entirely like an .'Vbyssinian chief going to take pos-
session of an estate in the highlands of that remote
and tropical country.

Bruce left Fasil's house on tlie 31st of October,
and as he travelled onward for a few days through
this rude territory, the i)eo])le, instead of giving him
any annoyance, everywhere fled at his approach,
thinking, from the ajjpearancc of Fasil's horse, that
the expedition was one of taxation and contribution.
Those few whom Bruce came in contact with, he
found to have a religious veneration for the Nile, the
remains of that jiagan worshi]i which was originally
paid to it, and which was liic sole religion (jf the
country before the introduction of Christianity. Even
the savages who formed his guard, would have been
apt, as he found, to destroy him, if he had crossed
the river on horseback, or employed its waters in
washing any jiart of his dress. He also learned
that there was still a kind of priest of this worship,
who dwelt at the fountain of the Nile, and was
called "the servant of the river." It thus a]ipenre(i
that, as in the ruder jiarts of Bnice's native countrv,
the aboriginal religion had partly survived the ordi-
nances of a new and purer worship for many cen-
turies. It was early in the afternoon of Xovember
3fl, that Bruce surmounted a ridge of hills which
separated him from the fountain <if the Nile, and for
the first time cast his I'".uropean eyes on that object
— the first, and, we believe, the only European eyes
that have ever beheld it. It was pointed out to him

by Woldo, his guide, as a hillock of green sod in the
middle of a marshy spot at the bottom of the hill on
which he was standing. To quote his own account of
so remarkable a point in his life — "Half undressed as
I was, by the loss of my sash, and throwing off my
shoes [a necessary preliminary to satisfy the pagan
feelings of the people], I ran down the hill, towards
the hillock of green sod, which was about 200 yards
distant; the whole side of the hill was thick grown
with flowers, the large bulbous roots of which ap-
pearing above the surface of the ground, and their
skins coming off on my treading upon them, occa-
sioned me two very severe falls before I reached the
brink of the marsh. I after this came to the altar
of green turf, which was apparently the work of art,
and I stood in rapture above the principal fountain,
which rises in the middle of it. It is easier to guess
than to describe the situation of my mind at that
moment — standing in that spot which had baffled
the genius, industry, and in([uiry of both ancients
and moderns for the course of near 3000 years.
Kings had attempted this discovery at the head of
armies, and each expedition was distinguished from
the last only by the difference of numbers which had
perished, and agreed alone in the disappointment
which had uniformly and without exception followed
them all. Fame, riches, and honour had been held
out for a series of ages to every individual of those
myriads these princes commanded, without having
produced one man capable of gratifying the curiosity
of his sovereign, or wiping off this stain upon the
enterprise and abilities of mankind, or adding this
desideratum for the encouragement of geography.
Though a mere private Briton, I triumphed here, in
my own mind, over kings and their armies ! and
every comparison was leading nearer and nearer to
presumption, when the place itself where I stood,
the object of my vainglory, suggested what depressed
my short-lived triumph. I was but a few minutes
arrived at the sources of the Nile, through number-
less dangers and sufferings, the least of which, would
have overwhelmed me but for the continual good-
ness and protection of Providence: I was, however,
but then half through my journey and all those
dangers through which I had already ]3assed awaited
me on my return; — I found a desjjondency gaining
ground fast, and blasting the crown of laurels I had
too rashly woven for myself" In this paragraph —
one of the most deeply touching ever written — we
find the Herculean mind of Bruce giving way, imder
the influence of success, to sensations which had
scarcely ever affected him during the whole course of
his journey, while as yet the desire of going onward
and the necessity of providing the means of doing sf)
with safety, possessed and amused his mind. There
might also mingle with the varied tide of his sensa-
tions a reluctantly acknowledged sense of the futility
of all his exertions, and perils, and sufferings, since
they had only obtained for him the sight of a pagan
altar from which proceeded one of the feeders, not
certainly known to be the principal one, of the
mighty Nile: to what good could this sight conduce,
since, after all, it was only a sight? the object hav-
ing been all along ]n-oved to exist, by the mere laws
of nature. The traveller relates that his despondency
continued for some time; and that, as he could not
reason it away, he resolved to direct it till he might
be able, on more solid reflection, to overcome its
jirogress. Calling to .Strates, a faithful Greek, who
had accompanied him throughout all his Abyssinian
travels, he said, "Strates, faithful squire ! come and
trium])h with your Don Quixote at that island of
Barataria, to which we have most wisely and fortu-
nately brought ourselves ! Come and triumph with

JAMES BRUCE.

195

me over all the kings of the earth, all their armies,
all their philosophers, and all their heroes!' 'Sir,'
says Strates, 'I do not understand a word of what
you say, and as little of what you mean: you very
well know I am no scholar.' 'Come,' said I, 'take
a drauj,'ht of this excellent water, and drink with me
a health to his .M.ijesty George III., and a long line
of princes.' I had in my hand a large cup, made
of a cocoa-nut shell, which I procured in Arabia,
and which was brimful." [This cup was brought
home by liruce, and his representatives at Kinnaird
still use it every day when they entertain company
at dinner.] "He drank to the king speedily and
cheerfully, with the addition of 'confusion to his
enemies,' and tossed up his cap with a loud huzza.
'Now friend,' said I, 'here is to a more humble, but
still a sacred name — here is to Maria!'" This was
a Scottish lady, we believe, a Miss Murray of Pol-
maise, to whom Bruce had formed an attachment
before leaving his native country. Tiiese ceremonies
being completed, he entered the village of Gecsh,
and assumed for four days the sovereignty to which
Fasil had given him a title. During this brief space
he made forty observations as to the exact geographi-
cal site of the fountain, and found it to be in north
latitude 10" 59' 25', and 36° 55' 30" east longitude,
while its position was supposecl from the barometer
to be two miles above the level of the sea. Bruce
left Geesh upon his return on the loth of November,
and he arrived at Gondar, without any remarkable
adventure, on the 17th. Here he found that Fasil
had set a new insurrection on foot, and had been
again unsuccessful. For some time great numbers
of his adherents, or rather the adherents of a mock
king wiiom he had set up, were daily sacrificed.
Bruce was at first somewhat uneasy in this disagree-
able scene, and the maxim of the .\byssinians, never
to permit a stranger to quit the countr\', came full
upon his mind. Early, however, in January 1771,
he obtained the king's permission, on the plea of his
health, to return home, though not without a pro-
mise that he would come back wlien his health was
re-established, bringing with him as many of his
familyas possible, with horses, muskets, and bayonets.
Ere he could take advantage of this permission, fresh
civil wars broke out, large provinces became dis-
turbed, and Bruce found that, as he had had to take
part in the national military operations in order to
])ave the w.ay for reaching tlie head of the Nile, so
was it now necessary that he should do his best for
the suppression of the disturbances, that he might
clear his way towards home. During the whole of
the year 177 1 he was engaged with the army, and
he distinguished himself so highly as a warrior, that
the king [iresented him with a massive gold chain,
consisting of 184 links, each of them weighing 3^',j
dwts. It was not till the 26th of December, thirteen
months after his return from the source of the Nile,
that he set out on his way towards Europe; nor even
then was the country reduced to a peacealile condi-
tion. I le was acccmipanietl by three Greeks, an old
Turkish Jani->ary, a captain, and some common
muleteers; the Italian artist Balugani having died at
Gondar. On account of the dangers which he had
experienced at Mas>uah from the barbarous naybe,
he had resolved to return through the great deserts
of Nubia into I'-gypt, a tract by which he could trace
the Nile in the greater jiart of its course.

On the 23d of March, after a series of dreadful
hardships, he reached Teawa, the capital of .\bbara,
and was introduced to the sheikli, wlio, it seemed,
was unwell, though not so much so as to have lost any
part of his ferocious disposition. Bruce here met
with an adventure, which, as it displays his matchless

presence of mind in a very brilliant light, may be
here related. He had undertaken to administer
medicine to the sheikh, who was in the alcove of a
spacious room, sitting on a sofa surrounded by cur-
tains. On the entrance of Bruce, he took two whiffs
of his pipe, and when the slave had left the room
said, "Are you prepared? Have you brought the
money along with you?" Bruce replied, "My
servants are at the other door, and have the vomit
you wanted." "Curse you and the vomit too," cried
the sheikh in great passion, "I want money and
not poison. Where are your piastres?" "I am a
bad person," replied Bruce, "to furnish you wUh
either; I have neither money nor poison; but I advise
you to drink a little warm water to clear your
stomach, cool your head, and then lie down and
compose yourself; I will see you to-morrow morning."
Bruce was retiring when the sheikh exclaimed,
"Hakim [physician], infidel, or devil, or whatever is
your name, hearken to what I say. Consider where
you are; this is the room where Mek Baady, a king,
was slain by the hand of my father: look at his
blood, where it has stained the floor, and can never
be washed out. I am informed you have 20,000
piastres in gold with you; either give me 2000 before
you go out of this chamber, or you shall die; I shall
put you to death with my own hand." Upon this
he took up his sword, which was lying at the head
of his sofa, and drawing it with a bravado, threw the
scabbard into the middle of the room, and, tucking
the sleeve of his shirt above the elbow, like a butcher,
he said, "I wait your answer." Bruce stepped one
pace backwards, and laid his hand upon a little
l)lunderbuss, without taking it off the belt. In a
firm tone of voice he replied, "This is my answer:
I am not a man to die like a beast by the hand of a
drunkard; on your life, I charge you, stir not from
your sofa. I had no need," says Bruce, "to give
this injunction; he heard the noise which the closing
of the joint in the stock of the blunderbuss made,
and thought I had cocked it, and was instantly to
fire. He let his sword drop, and threw himself on
his back, upon the sofa, crying, 'For God's sake,
hakim, I was but jesting.'" Bruce turned from the
cowed bully, and coolly wished him a good night.
.\fter being detained three weeks at this place, he
set out for Sennaar, the capital of Nubia, which he
reached at the end of .April. He was here received
kindly by the king, but the barbarous maxims of the
country caused his detention for upwards of four
months, during which the exhaustion of his funds
caused him to sell the whole of his gold chain excejit
a few links. At length, on the fifth of .Sei)ternber,
he commenced his journey across the great desert of
Nubia, and then only, it might be said, began the
true harilshijis of his expedition. .As he advanced
upon the sandy and burning plain, his provisions be-
came exhausted, his camels and even his men perished
by fatigue, and he was in the greatest danger, almost
ever)' day, of being swallowed up by tlie moving
sands which loaded the breath of the deadly -iinoc an.
For weeks and months the miseralile j'arty tailed
through the desert, enduring hardships oi w hich no
denizen of a civilized state can form tlie Ic.i-t iili-a.
.At last, on the 29th of December, ju-t r.s he had
given his men the last meal which reniaiiici tn tlicni,
and when all, of course, had given thcniM.I\ c- i:;i tor
lo>t, they came within heaiing of the Lalar.i^ts nf
the Nile,' and reached the town <<t Syciie '.r A^xiuan,
where ^-uccour in its amplest firm> awaiteii tliem.
Twelve dreadful weeks Bruce liad spent ujion the
desert: his journey I'mm tiie cijiital (..f .Abyssinia to
this point hail altogether occr.j'ied eleven months.
It was now exactlv lour veai's since he had left civil-

196

JAMES BRUCE.

ized society at Cairo; during all which time he had
conversed only with barbarous tribes of people, from
whose passions no man possessed of less varied
accomplishment, less daring, and less address, could
have possibly escaped. He sailed down the Nile to
Cairo, which he reached on the loth of January,
1773. He then sailed for Alexandria, whence he
easily obtaineil a passage to Europe. Arriving at
Marseilles in March, he was immeiliately visited and
congratulated by a number of the French sa~'a>ts, at
the head of whom was his former friend. Count de
Buffon. For some time however, he was not suffi-
ciently recovered from the debilitating efiects of his
journey to enjoy the polished society to which he was
restored. A mental distress, moreover, had awaited
his arrival in Europe. His Maria, whose health he
had only postponed to that of his sovereign in drink-
ing from the fountain of the Nile, despairing of his
return, had given her hand to an Italian Marchese.
Bruce witheretl under this disappointment more than
under the sun of \uhia. In a transport of indigna-
tion he travelled to Rome, and in a style of rodo-
montade, only to be excused by a kind consideration
of his impetuous and ingenuous character, called the
Marchese to account for a transaction in which it
was evident that only the lady could be to blame.
The Marchese with Bruce's sword almost at his
throat, disclaimed having married Maria with any
knowledge of a previous engagement on her part:
and with this Bruce had to rest satisfied. A/eiite
alta reposcit; his only resource was to bury his re-
grets in his own proud bosom, and despise the love
which could permit a question of time or space to
affect it.

In the summer of 1774 he returned to England,
from which he had now been absent twelve years.
His fame having gone Ijefore him, he was received
with the highest distinction. He was introduced at
court, where he presented to George III. those draw-
ings of Palmyra, Baalbec, and tiie African cities,
which his majesty had requested him to execute
before his departure from the country. The triumphs
of this enterprising traveller were, however, soon
tlashed and eml>ittered by the mean conduct of a
people and age altogether unworthy of him. Bruce,
wherever he went, was required to speak of what he
had seen and suffered in the course of his travels.
He related anecdotes of the .Abyssinian and Nul)ian
trilies, and gave descriptions of localities and natural
objects, which certainly appeared wonderful to a
civdized people, though only because they were
novel: he related nothing either morally or physically
impossible. Unfortunately, however, the stories of
Bruce were at the very first set down for imagi-
nary tales, furnished forth l)y iiis own fancy. Tliis
view of the case was warmly taken u]) l)y a diijiic of
literary men, who, with')Ut science themselves, and
unchecked by science in others, then swayed the
puliiic mind. I-lven the country gentlemen in Scot-
land could sneer nt tiie "//<'i'" of Bruce. His mind
shrunk from the meanness f)f his fellows; and he
retired, indignant and disapjiointed, to Kinnaird,
where, for S(Jine time, he busied himself in rebuilding
his house, and arranging the concerns of his estate,
wliicli had become confused during his long absence.
In .March, 1776, he ])rovided adfiitional means of
happiness and repose, by marrying, for his second
wife, Mary Dundas, daughter of Tiiomas Diuidas,
Esf|., of Fingask, and of Lady Janet Maitland,
daughter of the Earl of Lauderdale. This amiable
and accomjdished ]ierson was much younger than
Bruce, and it is rather a singular coincidence, remarks
Captain Head, that she was born in the same year
in which his first wife had died. For nine years

Bruce enjoyed too much domestic happiness to admit
of his making a rapid progress in the preparation of
his journals for the press. But after the death of his
wife, in 1785, he applied to this task with more
eagerness, as a means of diverting his melancholy.
We have heard that in the composition of his book,
he employed the assistance of a professional littera-
teur, who first transcribed his journals into a con-
tinuous narrative, and then wrote them over again,
involving all the alterations, improvements, and
additional remarks, which the traveller was pleased
to suggest. The work appeared in 1790, seventeen
years after his return to Europe. It consisted of five
large quarto volumes, besides a volume of drawings,
and was entitled Travels to Discover the Sources of the
Nile, in the years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and
11121, '^y Jiimes Bruce, of Kinnaird, Esq., F.R.S.
It was dedicated to the king; and it is but justice to
the memory of that sovereign to state that, while
society in general raised against it the ciy of envy,
jealousy, and ignorant incredulity, his majesty stood
boldly up in its favour, and contended that it was a
very great work. The king used to say, that, had
it not been for the indecorous nature of certain
passages, he could have wished to find it in the
hands of all his subjects, and he would himself have
placed a copy of it in every one of his palaces. The
taste of this monarch did not perhaps lead him to
expend great sums in patronizing the arts of the
lighter branches of literature, but he certainly was
qualified to appreciate, and also disposed to en-
courage, any exertion on the part of his subjects
whicli had a direct utility, and was consistent with
honour and virtue. The tiiagnitm opus of Bruce was
bought up by the public at its very first appearance;
it required the whole of the impression to satisfy the
first burst of public curiosity. It was, in the same
year, translated into German and French.

Bruce, in his latter years, lost much of his capa-
bilities of enjoying life liy his prodigious corpulence,
which at last was indirectly the cause of his death.
On the evening of the 27th of April, 1794, after he
had entertained a large party at dinner, he was hur-
rying to escort an old lady down stairs to her car-
riage, when his foot — that foot which had carried
him through so many dangers — slipped upon the
steps; he tumbled down the stair, pitched upon his
head, and was taken up speechless, with several of
his fingers broken. He expired the same night, anil
was buried in the churchyard of his native parish
of Larljert, where a monument indicates his last
resting-place. To quote the character which has
been written for him by Cajitain Head, "liruce be-
longed to that useful class of men who arc ever ready
'to set their life upon a cast, and stand the hazard
of the die.' He was merely a traveller — a knight-
errant in search of new regions of the world; yet the
steady courage witli which he encountered danger —
his ])atience and fortitude in adversity — his good sense
in pros]ierity — the tact and judgment with which he
steered his h^nely course through some of the most
barren and barljarous countries in the world, bending
even the ignorance, jiassions, and jirejudices of the
])eople he visited to his own advantage — the graphic
trutli with which he described the strange scenes
wliich lie liad witnessed, and the inflexible fortitude
witli whicli he maintained his assertions against the
l)ari)arous incredulity of his age, place him at the to])
of his own class, while he at least stands second to no
man.''' IJruce understood French, Italian, S]iaiiish,
and I'ortuguese — the two former he could write and
s])cak with facility. Besides (ireek and Latin, ^\llich
he read well, but not critically, he knew the Hebrew,
Chaldce, and Syriac, and in the latter part of his life

JAMES BRUCE MICHAEL BRUCE.

»97

compared several portions of the Scripture in those re-
lated dialects. He read and spoke with ease Arabic,
Ethiopia, and Amharic, which had proved of the
greatest service to him in his travels. It is said that
the faults of his character were inordinate family
pride, and a want of that power to accommodate
one's self to the weaknesses of others, which is so
important a qualification in a man of the world.
But amidst the splendours of such a history, and such
an intellect, a few trivial weaknesses — even allowing
those to be so — are as motes in the meridian sun. A
second editionof/yrwr^'j Travel swdiS published in 1805
by Dr. Alexander Murray, from a copy which the
traveller himself had prepared to put to press. The
first volume of this edition contains a biographical
account of the author by Dr. Murray, whose learning
well fitted him for so peculiar a task as that of re-
vising Bruce s Travels.

BRUCE, James. See Elgin, Earl of.

BRUCE, MiciiALL, with whose name is associ-
ated every regret that can be inspired by the early
extinction of genius of a high order, still farther
elevated by purity of life, was bom at Kinnesswood,
in the parish of Portmoak, Kinrosshire, on the 27th
of March, 1746. His father, Alexander Bruce, a
weaver, and his mother, whose name was also Bruce,
were honest and pious Burghers; they had eight chil-
dren, Michael being the fifth. Manifesting from his
earliest years much delicacy of frame and quickness
of jiarts, it was resolved to train him for the church;
and after acquiring the elements of education at the
school of his native parish and of Kinross, he was
sent to the college of Edinburgh in 1762. Here he
remained four years, devoting himself during the
three first to those branches of learning pursued by
what are called students of philosophy, and in the
last applying also to the study of divinity.

Before quitting Kinrosshire, he had given proofs
of his predilection for poetry, which was encouraged
by his friendship with Mr. Arnot, a farmer on the
banks of Lochleven, who, to the piety and good
sense common among those of his profession, added
classical scholarship and an acquaintance with elegant
literature. He directed Bruce to the perusal of
Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton, supplied him with
the books, and became a judicious adviser in regard
to his youthful essays in the poetic art. Mr. David
Pearson, a man who read much with advantage, had
also the taste to relish what Bruce had the talents to
produce, and enjoyed his intimacy. .A.fter removing
to Edinburgh, lie lived in habits of close intercourse
with Mr. George Henderson and Mr. William Dry-
burgh, who opened to him their stores of books and
information as they did their affections, and with
Logan, whose congenial turn of mind made him the
friend of Bruce in his lifetime, and his warm eulogist
and editor of his works when he was no more. No
one deserved better the attachment of those with
whom he associated. "No less amiable as a man,"
says Logan, "than valuable as a writer; endued with
g(jod nature and good sense; humane, friendly, be-
nevolent; he loved his friends, and was Ijelovcd by
them with a degree of ardour that is only experienced
in the era of youth and innocence." The prominent
place he has given in his poems to those from whose
society he had derived delight, shows how sincere
was the regard he cherished for them. As if that
none of the ties bv which life is endeared should be
wanting to him, ISruce hail fixed his alTections on
.a young woman, mociot and beautihil, with whose
parents he resided while teaching a school at (iairny
iiridge. He has celebrated her under the name of
Eumelia, in his pastoral of .-luxis. and she was also

the heroine of the only two songs he is known to
have written.

It appears that the parents of the poet entertained
peculiarly rigid notions in regard to religion, and
would have been seriously displeased if they had
known that any part of their son's attention was oc-
cupied by subjects apart from his theological studies.
Bruce anxiously avoided giving these prejudices any
cause of offence, and, when about to return home
from college in 1765, took the j>recaution of trans-
mitting to his friend Arnot those volumes of which
he knew his father would disajiprove. "I ask your
pardon," says his letter on this occa.sion, "for the
trouble I have put you to by these books I have sent.
The fear of a discovery made me choose this method.
I have sent Shakspeare's works, 8 vols.. Pope's
works, 4 vols., and YonXcneWiii, Tlttrali/y 0/ ll'orlch.^^

Bruce acknowledges that he felt his poverty deeply
when he saw books which he ardently desired to
possess exposed to sale, and had not money to lay
out in the purchase. The same regret has been ex-
perienced by many a poor scholar; but few jierhap-;
terminate their complaints in the same train of jiious
reflection. "How well," he says, "should my
librar}' be furnished, *nisi obstat res angusta domil'

".My lot forbids; nor circumscribes alone
My growing virtues, but my crimes confines."

Whether any virtues should have accompanied me in
a more elevated station is uncertain; but that a number
of vices of which my sphere is incapable would have
been its attendants is unquestionable. The .'Supreme
Wisdom has seen this meet; and Supreme \\'isdom
cannot err."

Even when prosecuting his favourite studies, Bruce
is said to have been liable to that depression which
is frequently the attendant of genius indeed, but in his
case was also the precursor of a fatal disease. In
December 1 764 he wrote to his friend Arnot, — "I am
in health, excepting a kind of settled melancholy,
for which I cannot account, that has seized on my
spirits." Such seems to have been the first imperfect
announcement of his consciousness that all was not
well with him. It would be a mournful task, if it
were possible, to trace the gradations by which his
apprehensions strengthened and grew into that cer-
tainty which only two years after this produced the
Elegy, in which so pathetically, yet so calmly, he
anticipates his own death. In these years are under-
stood to have been written the greater part of his
poems which have been given to the public. He
spent the winters at college, and the summer in
earning a small pittance by teaching a school, first at
Gairny Bridge, and afterwards at Forrest Mill, near
Alloa. In this latter place he had hoped to be
happy, but was not — having, he confesses, been too
sanguine in his expectations. He wrote here Lcch-
hi-en, the longest of his poems, which closes \\\\\\
these affecting lines: —

"Thus sung the youth, .nniid uiifortile wilds
And nameless deserts, unpoetic ffroumi!
Kar from his friends he stmy'd. rociTdiii; tl.us
The de.ir remembr.ince of his iia:i\e tich.^.
Tci cheer tlie tedious night, \ihilc sl'u ,:i-t.i-e
Prev'd on his pining vitals, ami the 1 '.a-;~
(_)f dark December ".shook hi^ h;;:r.i:c e t."

.\ letter to Mr. Pearson, written in tlie same iivnth
in which he finished thi- jiocni, atV. .kI- a still Lln-c-r
and more touching view of tlie stni--lc \\Iiich he
now maintained against gr^iwii-g liisca-c, the want
of comforts and I'lf fiirr,>ily c .!im lati. n;. --l lca<i
a melancholy kind of lilc." lu' -a}-, "in ihi- ] lace.
I am not fond of cunij-anv. l-vd i: i- r."t g<'>'ii th.-.t
a man be still alone: and hcic I ca;i liavc no com-

igS

MICHAEL BRUCE.

pany but what is worse than solitude. If I had not
a lively imagination, I believe 1 should fall into
a state of stupidity and delirium. I have some
evening scholars; the attending on whom, though
few, so fatigues me, that the rest of the night I am
quite dull and low-spirited. Vet I have some lucid
intervals, in the time of which I can stuily pretty
well."

"In the autumn of 1766," says Dr. Anderson,
"his constitution — which was ill calculated to en-
counter the austerities of his native climate, the ex-
ertions of daily labour, and the rigid frugality of
humble life — began visibly to decline. Towards the
end of the year, his ill health, aggravated by the in-
digence of his situation, and the want of those com-
forts and conveniences wliich might have fostered
a delicate frame to maturity and length of days,
terminated in a deep consum])tion. During the
winter he quitted his employment at Forrest Mill,
and with it all hopes of life, and returned to his
native village to receive those attentions and consola-
tions which his situation required, from the anxiety
of parental affection and the sympatliy of friendship.
Convinced of the hopeless nature of his disease, and
feeling himself every day dechning, he contemplated
the approaches of death with calmness and resigna-
tion, and continued at intervals to compose verses
and to correspond with his friends."'

Bnice lingered througli the winter, and m spring
wrote that eleg)-, "the latter part of wliich," says
Logan, "is wrought up into the most passionate
strains of the true pathetic, and is not perhaps in-
ferior to any poetry in any language." How truly
this is said there are few tliat do not know; but tliey
who have read it often will not be fatigued by read-
ing it again.

" Now Spring returns; but not to nie returns
The vernal j )y my bettor years have known:
iJim in my breast life's dying taper burns,
.And all the joys of life with health are flown.

"Starting .ind shivering in th' inconstant wind,
.Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I wa.s,
Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined.
And count the silent moments as they pass:

''The winged moments, whose unstaying speed
No art can stop or in their course arrest;
Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead,
.And lay me down in peace with them that rest.

''Oft morning dre.ams presage approaching fate;
And morning dreams, as poets tell, arc true:
Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate,
And bid the realms of light and life adieu.

" 1 hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe;
1 see the muddy wave, the dreary shore.
The sluggish streams that slowly creep below.
Which morLals visit and return no more.

"Farewell, ye blooming fields' ye cheerful plain-'
Knough for me the churchyard's lonely mound,
Where melancholy with still silenc e reigns,

.And the r.ank grass wave> o'er the cheerless ground.

"There let me wander at the close of eve.

When sleep sits dewy on the labourer's eyes.
The world and its busy follies leave.

And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis lies.

"There let me sleep forgotten in the cl.iy.

When death shall shut the-e weary aching eyes.
Rest in the hope of an eternal day.

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn ari-.c-."

These were the last verses finished by the author.
His strength was wasted gradually away, and he
died on tlie 6th of July, 1767, in the twenty-fir>.t
year of his age. What he might have accomplisiieil
had longer years Vx-en assigned to liim, it were need-
less to conjecture; but of all the sons of genius cut
off by an early death, there is none whose fate excites
so tender a regret. His claims to admiration

are great without any counteracting circumstance.
"Nothing," says Lord Craig, after a brief allusion
to the leading facts of Bruce's life — "Nothing,
methinks, has more the power of awakening bene-
volence than the consideration of genius thus de-
pressed by situation, suffered to pine in obscurity,
and sometimes, as in the case of this unfortunate
young man, to perish, it may be, for want of those
comforts and conveniences which might have fostered
a delicacy, of frame or of mind ill calculated to bear
the hardships which poverty lays on both. For my
own part, I never pass the place (a little hamlet
skirted with old ash-trees, about two miles on this
side of Kinross) where Michael Bnice resided — I
never look on his dwelling (a small thatched house
distinguished from tlie cottages of the other inhabit-
ants only by a sashed window at the end, instead of
a lattice, fringed with a honeysuckle plant which the
poor youth had trained around it) — I never find
myself in that spot but I stop my horse involun-
tarily, and looking on the window, which the honey-
suckle has now almost covered, in the dream of the
moment, I picture out a figure for the gentle tenant
of tlie mansion. I wish — and my heart swells while
I do so — that he v/ere alive, and that I were a great
man to have the luxury of visiting him there, and of
bidding him be happy."

Three years after Bruce's death his poems were
given to the world by Logan, who unfortunately
mingled with them some of his own, and never gave
any explanation by which these might be distin-
guished. This led to a controversy between their
respective friends in regard to the authorship of a
few pieces, into which it would be unprofitable to
enter here, as the fame of Bruce is no way affected
whichever way the dispute be decided. The atten-
tion of the public having been called to the volume
by Lord Craig, in the thirty-sixth number of the
AIirro)\ in 1779, a second edition was publislied in
1784; Dr. Anderson gave Bruce's works a place in
his Collectioi of British Poets, and prefixed to them
a memoir from whicli are derived the materials of
the present sketch; and finally tlie unwearied bene-
volence of Principal Baird brought forward an edition
in 1807 by subscri]5tion, for the benefit of the poet's
mother. He could not restore her son to be the
sup])ort of her old age, but made all that remained
of him contribute to that end — one of the numberless
deeds which now reflect honour upon his memory.

Perhaps Bruce's fame as a poet has been injured
by the sympathy which his ]M-emature death excited,
and by the benevolent purpose which recommended
the latest edition of his works to jniblic patronage.
Pity and benevolence are strong emotions; and the
mind is commonly content with one strong emotion
at a time; he who purchased a book, that he might
promote the comfort of the author's mother jirocured
for himself, in the mere payment of the price, a
])leasure more substantial than could be derived from
the contemplation (jf agreeable ideas; and he would
eitiier be satisfied with it and go no farther, or carry
it with him into the perusal of the book, the beauties
of whicli would fail to produce the same effect as if
they had found his mind unoccupied. But these
]>oems, nevertheless, display talents of the first (jnier.
Logan says of them that, "if images of nature that
are beautiful and new; if sentiments warm from the
lieart, interesting and pathetic; if a style chaste with
ornament, and elegant with sinqilicity; if these, and
many other beauties of nature and of art, are allowed
to Constitute true jioetic merit, tliey will stand high
in the judgment of men of taste." There is no part
of tliis eulogy overstrained; but perhaps the most
remarkable points in the compositions of Bruce,

ROBERT BRUCE.

199

considering; his extreme youth, are the grace of his
expression and melody of his verses. Flashes of
brilliant thought we may look for in opening genius,
but we rarely meet with a sustained polish. The
reader who glances but casually into these poems
will be surprised to find how many of those familiar
phrases recommen Jed to universal use by their beauty
of thought and felicitous diction which every one
quotes, while no one knows whence they are taken—
we owe to Michael Bruce. As to his larger merits
the reader may judge from the union of majesty with
tenderness which characterizes the elegy already
<juoted. The poem of Lochlevcn affords many
l)assages worthy of higher names. We know not in
the compass of English poetry a more beautiful
image than is presented in the following lines: —

" Behold the village rise
In rural pride, 'inong intermingled trees!
Above whose aged tops the joyful swains,
At eventide descending from the hill.
With eye enamour'd mark the many wreaths
Of pillar'd smoke, high curling to the clouds."

BRUCE, Robert, Earl of Carrick, afterwards
King of Scots, and the most heroic as well as the
most patriotic monarch which Scotland ever pro-
duced, was born on the 2ist of March, 1274. He
was the grandson of Robert Bruce, lord of Annan-
dale, who in 1 29 1 contested the right to the crown
with John Baliol. The events which followed upon
the decision of that momentous question are else-
where detailed to the reader (in the preceding life of
John Baliol, and the subsequent one of William
Wallace); it is therefore unnecessary to advert to
them in this place, unless in so far as they have
reference to the family of Bruce, and in particular to
the illustrious individual now under notice.

Upon the decision of Edward L in favour of
Baliol, the grandfather of King Robert, being pos-
sessed of extensive estates in the north of England,
resigned the lordship of Annandale to his eldest son,
on purpose, it may be supposed, to evade the humi-
liating necessity of doing homage to his successful
rival. No other particular regarding him is known:
he died at the family residence of Lochmaben, not
long after, at the advanced age of eighty-five.

Robert Bruce, the son of the competitor and father
of King Robert, became possessed, by this last event,
of the English as well as of the Scottish estates be-
longing to his family. lie had also acquired, in
right of his wife, the heiress of Carrick, the earldom
of that name,' and, in every respect, might justly be

• The circumstances attending this alliance, related by Mr.
Tytler, were of a romantic and singular description. "It
appears that a short time after his return from the crusade,
Bruce w.as riding through the beautiful domains of Turnberry
Castle, the property of the widowed Countess of Carrick; who,
in consequence of the death of her husband, had become a
ward of the crown. The noble baron, however, if we may
believe an ancient historian, cannot be accused of having
visited Turnberry with any design of throwing himself in the
way of the heiress of Carrick; and indeed any such idea in
those days of je.ilous wardship would have been highly dan-
gerous. It happened, however, that the lady herself, whose
ardent and impetuous temper was not much m love with the
seclusion of a feud.al castle, had come out to take the diversion
of the ch.ase, accompanied by her women, huntsmen, and
filconers; and this gay cavalcacfe came suddenly upon Bruce,
as he pursued his way through the forest, alone and unarmed.
The knight would have spurred his horse forward, and avoided
the encounter, but he found himself surrounded by the atten-
dants; and the counters herself ruling up. and with gentle
violence taking hold of his hor^e's reiii'i. reproached him in so
sweet a tone for his want of gallantry in tlying from a ladv's
castle, that Bruce, cnimoured of her beauty, forgot the risk
which he run. and sutTored himself to be led away ui a kind of
trmmph to Turnberry. He here remained f t fifteen days,
and the adventure concluded, as mijht have been anticipated,
by his privately espousing the youthful C'>untess without having
obtained the concurrence of the king, or of any of her relations."

considered one of the most powerful barons in the
kingdom. Either from disinclination, or, as some
have suspected, from motives of policy, Robert
Bruce, the second of the name, early avoided taking
any share in the affairs of Scotland. When his son
was yet a minor, he made resignation to him of the
earldom of Carrick, and .shortly thereafter, retiring
into England, left the administration of his ancient
patrimony of Annandale in the same hands. During
the ill-concerted and disastrous revolt of Baliol in
1296, the Bruces maintained their allegiance to the
English king. The lordshi]) of Annandale was, in
consequence, hastily declared forfeited, and the rich
inheritance bestowed by Baliol upon John Comyn,
Earl of Buchan, who immediately seized upon and
occupied the castle of Eochmabcn; an injury which,
there is reason to believe, the young Earl of Carrick,
long after, but too well rememlx;red, and fatally
repaid.

It is asserted that Edward, in order to gain securely
the fidelity and assistance of the lord of Annandale
and his son, had promised to bestow upon the former
the kingdom of which Baliol was now to be dis-
possessed. It is not probable that the English
monarch ever seriously entertained such an intention,
and still less likely, if he did, that in the flu.sh of
successful conquest he should be capable of ])utting
it in execution. After the decisive battle of Dunbar,
Bruce reminded Edward of his promi.se: "Have I
no other business," was the contemptuous reply,
"but to conquer kingdoms for you?" The elder
Bnice once more retired to his estate in England,
where he passed the remainder of his days; and the
Earl of Carrick was commissioned to receive in the
name of the English king the homage of his own
and his father's vassals. So unpromising were, in
their commencement, the fortunes of him upon whom
the fortunes of Scotland were finally to dejiend.

In the .Scots parliament which Edward assembled
at Berwick for the settlement of his new conquest,
he received the homage of great numbers of the clergy
and laity, and among the rest of the Earl of Carrick,
who probably dared not incur even the suspicion of
the English king. His large estates extending be-
tween the firths of Clyde and Solway, and bordering
upon England; the number of his connections and
dependants, rendered still more fonnidable by the
discomfiture and depression of the rival family; to
say nothing of the personal talents of the young earl
himself, must have rendered him liable to the jealous
scrutiny of so politic a sovereign as Edward. On the
other hand, the residence of the elder Bruce in Eng-
land, and the great property possessed by the family
in that kingdom, were an actual guarantee in the
hands of Edward of the Bruces' loyalty; nor is it
unlikely that he would be swayed by a wise jiolicy
in attaching to himself that party in the state from
whom he had most to fear. Forbearance on the <jne
side, and submissiveness on the other, were jirobably
dictated to each by opposite though equally strong
convictions of expediency.

During the noble stand of Wall.ice a.:.;a!r.-t the
national defection, the Earl i.if Carrick. th'.u-h he
remained inactive, was not overliKikc<l by tlie jcalnus
eye of the English government. '1 he li;shLi]> of
Carlisle and other barons, to whom th- ] e.icc nt the
western districts was conimiticd, btvamc >u-i'icioiis
of his fidelity, and summoned him to api-cir lielore
them, when he made oath on the sucrcd ho>t and
the sword of St. Thoma-, to be taiihlul and vigilant
in the service of Iviwarl. To evince hi> sincerity,
he immediately after I.ii 1 w.i^ie tlie I.m.N of ^ir
William I)ou-'la>, c."rry;r..:; tlie wiie and t.imily ol
that knight prisoners into Annaniiale. I'robab'.y

ROBERT BRUCE.

this enterprise was merely a pretext for assembling
his military retainers; for he had no sooner collected
them than he abandoned the English interests, and
joined the army of the Scots; alleging, in vindication
of his conduct, that his late solemn oath had been
extorted from him by force, and that the po|)e would,
he doubted not, absolve him from its observance.
Bruce did not remain long faithful to his new allies.
A few months after, at the capitulation of Irvine, he
made his peace with Edward, giving what sureties
Avere required for his future loyalty.

The signal success achieved by the Scots at Stir-
ling, induced Bruce once more to join the national
cause; but the Comyns, now the princii)al rivals of
his family for the vacant throne, being at the same
time opposed to Edward, he seems to have prudently
avoidetl taking any active share in the contest.
Refusing to join the army, he shut himself up in
Ayr castle, by this means ostensibly preserving the
communication o])en between Clalloway and the
western Higlilands. On the approach of Edward
into the west, after the battle of Falkirk, the earl,
after destroying the fortress, found it necessary to
retire. Displeased as the English king had reason
to be with the vacillating contluct of Bruce at this
juncture, he did not chastise it otiierwise than by
taking temporary possession of Lochmaben castle,
the fortified patrimonial iniieritance of the family.
Among the confiscatii)ns of property which followed,
Annandale and Carrick remained unalienated, a
favour which the younger Bruce probably owed to
the fidelity and services of his father in the English
cause.

In the year 1299, not long after tiie fatal issue of the
battle of Falkirk, we find the Earl of Carrick asso-
ciated with John Comyn, the younger of Badenoch,
in the regency of .'^cotland. The motives of Bruce in
thus leaguing himself with a rival, with wliom he never
hitherto had acted in concert, have been variously
represented, and the fact itself has even been called
in question. The consciousness of having lost the
confidence of the English king, and a desire, mutually
entertained, to destroy the authority of Wallace,
which but too well succeeded, could not but influ-
ence powerfully the conduct of both j^arties. This
object accom])lished, Bruce seems to have once more
resumed his inactive course of policy, relinquishing
to the, perhajis, less wary Comyn, the direction of
the hazardous power whicli he seemed so willing to
wield. In the fjllouing year lildward again invaded
Scotland, laid waste the di;,tricts of Annandale and
Carrick, and once more jios^essed himself of the
castle of Eochmaben. Bruce, though on this occa-
sion he was ahiK^st the only suftercr, cautiously
avoided, by any act of retaliation or effective co-o])era-
tion with Comyn, to widen irremediably tiie breach
with Edward; an! we find, that prior to the advan-
tage gained by his cf>a(ijutor at Ros^lyn, he had
returned once more to the interests of tile Englisli
party. Tlie victorious camj^aign of Ivlward, which,
in 1304, enrled in a more conqilete subjugation (^f
Scotland than he had hitherto been able to effect,
justified the prudent foresight, though it tarnished
the (latriotic finie, of the ICarl of Carrick. 1 li-, hike-
warmness in the cau>e of the regeiity, and timely
defalcati<m from it, pnjcured hi> ]iariion u]jon ca>y
terms, and seemed to restore to him, in a great
measure, the confidence of Edward, w'nh whicli he
had so repeatedly dared to trille. His father, tlie
lord of Annandale <lying at this critical time, the
young Bruce was allowed to inherit the whole exten-
sive estates of his family in both kingdoms; and so
unequivocally, indeed, had he recovered the favour
of the English monarch, that he was held worthy of

advising and aiding in the settlement of Scotland as
a province under the rule of England. Comyn, who
had acted throughout with smcerity and constancy
in the trust reposed in him, and whose submission
had been a matter of necessity, was .subjected to a
heavy fine, and fell, in proportion to his rival's eleva-
tion, in the confidence and estimation of the king.

The versatility of Bruce's conduct during these
various changes and reverses, has been variously
commented upon by historians, as they have been led
to consider it in a moral or political point of view;
and, indeed, in whatever way it may be explained,
it forms a singular contrast to the honourable, bold,
and undeviating career of his after-life. In extenua-
tion of such obvious derelictions from principle and
consistency, we must take into account the effects of
peculiar circumstances upon a mind that has been
irresistibly devoted to the attainment of some great
and engrossing object. That natural irresoluteness,
too, by which the boldest sj^iirit may be beset, while
meditating the decisive plunge into a hazardous
enterprise, may cause a seeming vacillation of pur-
pose, arising more from a deep sense of the import-
ance of the venture, than from fear of the conse-
quences. That Bruce should early entertain a per-
suasion that his family were justly entitled to the
throne was every way natural, and we have already
noticed, that hopes of their actually attaining to it
were held out by Edward himself to the lord of
Annandale. Nurtured and strengthened in such feel-
ing, the young aspirant to royalty could not be ex-
pected to entertain attachment to the house of Baliol;
and must have regarded with still greater aversion
the sovereignty usurped by England over the rights
and pretensions of all his race. During the struggle,
therefore, of those contending interests — the indepen-
dence of Scotland under Baliol, or its subjugation
under Edward — he necessarily remained more in the
situation of a neutral, than an active partisan; the
success of either party involving in an almost in-
different degree the high claims, and, it might be,
the existing fortunes of his house.

Taking these considerations into account, there is
little difficulty in reconciling to itself the line of con-
duct which Bruce had hitherto pursued, lly joining
heartily with neither party, he jMudcntly avoided
committing the fortunes of his family to the hazard
of ulter destruction, and his right and influence could
give, upon any emergency, a necessary and required
])reponderance to either side. Me nnist have foreseen,
too, with secret satisfaction, the consequences which
would result to his own advantage from a contest in
which the strength and resources of his rivals were
mutually wasted, whilst his own energies remained
entire, and ready on any favourable opportunity to
be called decisively into action. That these were
not exerted sooner, the existence of his father down to
this peri(jd, and his submission to the English govern-
ment, may suggest a sufficient reason; and his own
accession to the regency, in the name of the deposed
Baliol, was a circumstance which could not but affect
unfavourably, during its continuance, the assertion
of his pretensions.

Meantime, while Bruce outwardly maintained the
semblance of loyalty to Ivlward, he was not idle in
secretly advancing the objects of his own ambition;
and when actually engaged in assisting Edward in
tlie settlement of tlie Scottish government, he entered
into a secret bond of association with Eambcrton,
liisho)) of St. Andrews, whereliy the ]iarties l)ecanie
bound to aid each other against all jiersons whatever,
;in(l not to undertake any business of moment unless
by mutual advice. Xo measure on the jjart of Bruce
could be more politic than that of enlisting the

ROBERT BRUCE.

church in his cause, and the reader may afterwards
have occasion to remark that he owed his success
more to tiie firm adherence of churchmen than to
all the efforts of the nobility. Lamberton and his
colleagues were more alarmed at the prospect of
being subjected to the spiritual supremacy of York
or Cantcrl)ury, than concerned for the temporal sub-
jugation of their country; and thus, in the minds of
the national clergy, the independency of the church
became intimately associated with the more general
cause of popular freedom. In addition to the
spiritual power of Lamberton, the aid which he could
furnish by calling out the military retainers upon the
church lands was far from inconsiderable. Though
we are not informed of any other similar contract to
the above having been entered into between Bruce
and his partisans, there can be little doubt that this
was not the only one, and that he neglected no ex-
pedient to promote his enterprise. Notwithstanding,
however, all the caution displayed in these pre-
paratory measures, the better genius of Bruce seems
to have deserted him when its guidance was most
required.

Before entering upon this important event, it will
be necessaiy to state the relative position of the
two great parties in the kingdom as opposed to each
other. John Baliol, supposing his title to have
been well founded, had repeatedly renounced all
pretensions to the crown of Scotland, and had for
several years remained a voluntary exile in France.
He was to be considered, therefore, as having not
only formally, but virtually, forfeited all claim to the
kingdom. His son Edward was at that time a
minor and a captive. John Comyn, commonly called
the Red Comyn, was the son of Marjory, the sister
of Baliol, and, setting Baliol aside, was the heir of the
pretensions of their common ancestor. As regent of
Scotland and leader of her armies, Comyn had main-
tained for many years the unequal contest with
Edward; and he had been the last to lay down his
arms and accept conditions of peace. Though the
terms of his submission had been rigorous, he was
yet left in possession of large estates, a numerous
vassalage, and, what in that warlike age was of con-
sequence, an approved character for courage and
conduct in the field.

Plausible as were Comyn's claims to the crown,
and powerfully as these might have been supported
against England, there was little likelihood, that in
a competition with Bruce, they could ever finally
have prevailed. That family, according to the
ancient usage of the kingdom, ought to have been
preferred originally to that of Baliol; and this fact,
generally known and acknowledged as it could not
fail to be, would, had they chosen to take advantage
of it, have rendered their cause, at anytime, a popu-
lar one. The award of Edward, from the conse-
cpiences that fallowed it, had become odious to the
nation; and the pusillanimity and misfortunes of the
abdicated king would leave, however undeservedly,
their stigma upon his race. It was a curious enough
illustration ot the deep-rooted existence of such a
feeling, that, nearly a century afterwards, a King of
.Scotland who happened to possess the same uni'or-
tunate name of John, saw fit upon his coronation
to change it f)r another, less ominous of evil in the
recollections of his sr.l)jccts. We have seen that
Bruce at this cri.^is w.is possessed of tho>e advan-
tages unimpareii, of wliicli the other, in the late
struggle, had Ijecn, in a great mea.sure. deprived;
and there is reason to believe that (..'omyn. whose
conduct had been consistent antl honourable, felt
himself injured and indiL^nant at a preference which
he might sujipose his rival had unworthily earned.

Thus, under impressions of wrong, and filled with
jealous apprehensions, the Red Comyn might lie pre-
sumed willing, upon any inviting occasion, to treat
Bruce as an enemy whom it was his interest to cir-
cumvent or destroy.

The league into which Bruce had entered with
Lamberton, and perhaps other transactions of a
similar nature, were n(jt so secretly managed, as to
be unsuspected; and this is said to have led loan
important conference between these rivals on the
subject of their mutual pretensions. At this meeting,
Bruce, after describing the miserable effects of the
enmity between their different families, by which
they themselves were not only deprived of station,
but their country of freedom, proj^osed, as the Ix;st
means of remedy, that they should henceforward
enter into a good understanding with each other.
".Support my title to the crown," he is represented
to have said, "and I will give you my lands; or, give
me your lands and I will support your claim."
Comyn agreed to waive his right, and accei)t the
lands; and the conditions having l)een drawn up in
form of indenture, were sealed by both jiarties, and
confirmed by their mutual oaths of fidelity and
secrecy.

Bruce shortly afterwards repaired to the English
court, and whilst there, Comyn, probably from the
design of ruining a rival whom he secretly feared and
detested, revealed the conspiracy to Edward. The
king, upon receiving this infonnation, thought fit to
dissemble his belief in its veracity. \Vith a shrewd-
ness and decision, however, peculiar to his character,
he frankly questioned Bruce upon the truth of
Comyn's accusation, adducing at the same lime. the
letters and documents which he had received as
evidences of the fact. The earl, much as he might
feel staggered at the sudden disclosure of Comyn's
treachery, had recollection enough to penetrate the
immediate object of the king, and presence of mind
to baffle it. Though taken so completely by sur-
prise, he betrayed no outward signs of guilt, and suc-
ceeded by his judicious answers in re-establi.--hing to
all appearance the confidence of the crafty monarch.
who had, indeed, his reasons for this seeming re-
liance, but who all along was too suspicious to be
convinced. He had, in fact, determined upon the
earl's niin; and, having one evening drank freely,
was indiscreet enough to disclose his intentions.
The Earl of Gloucester, a kinsman of Bruce,
chanced either to be present, or to have early notice
of his friend's danger, and, anxious to save him, yet
not daring to compromise his own safety, he sent to
him a pair of gilded spurs and a few pieces of money,
as if he had borrowed them from him the (iay before.
Danger is an acute interpreter, and Bruce divined
that the counsel thus symbolically communicaud
warned him to instant flight. Taking his measures,
therefore, with much privacy, and accompanied by
his secretary and one groom, he set out for Scotland.
On approaching the western marches, tlicy cr.ci>i'.r.-
tered a messenger on foot, whose deportment .-'lI-ulk
them as suspicious. He was searched, and ];rii\ci!
to be an emissaiy sent liy Comyn with letters to ilie
King of England. The man was killed v.yn the
spot; and Bruce, with these [jruots ot ti.e ; eitidy ci
his rival, pressed forward to his castle oJ I.' a hm.tlien.
which he is reported to have reached on tlie hltn
day after his ]ireci]^itate fliglu from l,on.;on.

These events occurred in the r.ioy.th .■{ februarv-.^
1306; at which time, according to ,i re-ui.Viion 01
the new government, certain Lc'.i-ii ;'.;';,-:e- uere
holding their courts at Ih'.nifrie-. Tii.ti.er Bruce
immediately rejiaired. and findin^- Comyn in the
town, rcfjuested a private interview with linn, which

ROBERT BRUCE.

was accorded; but, either from some inward doubts
on the one side, or a desire to give assurance of
safety on the other, the meeting took place near
the high ahar in the convent of the Minorite Friars.
Bruce is said to have here passionately rejiroached
Comyn for his treacher)-, to which the other answered
by flatly giving him the lie. The words were
scarcely uttered, when the earl, giving vent to the
fury which he had hitherto restrained, ilrew his
dagger and stabbed, but not mortally, his unguarded
opponent. Instantly hastening from the church, he
called to his attendants for his horse. Lindsay and
Kirkpatrick, by whom he had been accompanied,
seeing him pale an<i agitated, anxiously inquired the
cause. "1 doubt I have slain Comyn," re])lied the
earl. " Vou doubt" cried Kirkpatrick fiercely, " I'se
mak sitrkc'r" and rushing into the sanctuary, he found
Comyn still alive, but helpless and bleeding, upon
the steps of the high altar. The dying victim was
ruthlessly des]>atched on the sacred spot; and, almost
at the same moment. Sir Robert Comyn, the uncle,
entering the convent upon the noise and alarm of
the sculfle, shared his fate. The tumult had now
become general throughout the town; and the judges
who held their court in a hall of the castle, not
knowing what to fear, but believing their lives to
be in danger, hastily barricaded the doors. Bruce,
assembling his followers, surrounded the castle, and
threatening to force an entrance with fire, obliged
those within to surrender, and permitted them to
depart in safety from Scotland.

That this fatal event fell out in the reckless passion
of the moment, there can be no doubt. Goaded as
he had been to desperation by the ruin impending
over him, and even insulted personally by the man
who had placed him in such jeopardy, Bruce dared
hardly, in that age of superstition, to have com-
mitted an act of sacrilegious murder. In the imper-
fectly arranged state of his designs, without concert
among his friends, or preparation for defence, the
assassination of the first noble in the land, even
without its peculiar aggravations, could not but have
threatened the fortune of his cause with a brief and
fatal issue. lie knew, himself, that the die of his
future life was now cast; and that his only alternative
was to be a fugitive or a king. Without hesitation,
he at once determined to assert his claim to the
Scottish crown.

When Bruce thus adojAcd a desperate chance of
cxtricaticm an<i future hcjnour, he had not a single
fortres-. at his command besides those two patri-
monial rines of Lochmaben and Kildrummie; the
latter situated in .Xherdeenshire, at too great a
distance from the scene of action to jirove of service.
He had prepared no system of fjffcnsive warfare, nor
did it seem that, in the beginning, he should be even
able to maintain liimself on tlie defensive. Three
earls oiil)-, tii()--e (f l.enn(jx, l-'.rrol. and .Xthole, joined
liis stan'lard; Kandoljih, the ne])he\v of liruce, who
afterwards became the renowned ICarl of Moray;
Christopher of Seton, his brother-in-law; .Sir James
Douglas, who-,e fate became afterwards so interest-
ingly associated with that of his ma>ter; ami about
ten other barons then of little note, but who were
destined to lay the foundations of some of the most
honourable families in the kingdom, to'istituled, with
the brothers of the royal adventurer, liie ahno->t sole
]>ower against which such fearful odds v/ere presentlv
to be directed — the revenge of the wi Kly-connccted
house of Comyn, the overwiiehning force of b.ngland,
and the fulminations of the church. \\'ith<nil utlier
resi:)urce than his own undaunted rc.>f)lution, and
the untried fidelity and cour.age of his little hand,
Bruce ascended the throne of his ancestors, at Scone,

on the 27lh day of March, 1306. The coronation
was performed with what state the exigency of the
moment permitted. The Bishop of Glasgow supplied
from his own wardrobe the robes in which Robert
was arrayed on the occasion; and a slight coronet of
gold was made to serve in absence of the heredi-
tary crown, which, along with the other symbols
of royalty, had been carried off by Edward into
iMigland. A banner, wrought with the arms of
Baliol, was delivered by the Bishop of Glasgow to
the new king, beneath which he received the homage
of the earls and knights by whom he was attended.
The Earls of Fife, from a remote antiquity, had
possessed the privilege of crowning the kings of
Scotland; but at this time, Duncan, the representa-
tive of that family, favoured the English interest.
His sister, however, the Countess of IBuchan, with
a boldness characteristic of the days of chivalry,
secretly repaired to Scone, and asserted the ])reten-
sions of her ancestors. It is not unlikely that this
circumstance added to the popular interest felt for
the young sovereign. The crown was a second time
placed on the head of Bruce by the hands of the
countess; who was afterwards doomed to suffer,
through a long series of insult and oppression, for
the patriotic act which has preserved her name to
posterity.

Edward resided with his court at Winchester
when tidings of the murder of Comyn and the
revolt of Bruce reached his ears. That monarch,
whose long career of successful conquest was once
again to be endangered, had reached that period of
life when peace and tranquillity even to the most
indomitable become not only desirable but coveted
lilessings. The great natural strength of his con-
stitution had, besides, ill withstood the demands
which long military service and the violent cravings
of ambition had made upon it. He was become
of unwieldy bulk, and so infirm in his limbs as to be
unable to mount on horseback. Yet the spirit which
had so strongly actuated the victor on former occa-
sions did not now desert him. He immediately
despatched a message to the pope, demanding, in aid
of his own temporal efforts, the assistant thunder of
the holy see, a requisition with which Clement V.,
who had formerly been the subject of Edward, readily
complied. The sentence of excommunication was
denounced against Bruce and all his adherents, and
their possessions placed under the dreaded ban of
interdict. The garrison towns of lierwick and
Carlisle were strengthened; and the Ivirl of Pem-
broke, who was api)ointed guardian, was ordered to
]5rocced against the rebels in .Scotland, at the head
of a small army, hastily collected, for the occa-
sion. Those were but preparatory measures. U]X)n
Edward's arrival in London, he conferred knight-
hood wyion his son the Prince of Wales, and nearly
three hundred young men selected from families of
rank throughout the kingdom; and conducted the
ceremony with a jxnn]) well calculated to rouse the
martial ardour of his subjects. At a sjjlendid banquet
to which his nobility and the new-made knights were
invited, the aged king is recorded to have made
a solemn vow to the God of heaven, that he would
execute severe vengeance upon Bruce for his daring
outrage against God and his church; declaring, that
when he liad jierformed this duly, he would never
more unsjieath iiis sword against a Cln-istian enemy;
but should devote the rest of his da)s to waging war
against tlie Saracens for the recf)very of the Holy
Land, thence never to return. Addressing his son,
he made him ]iromisc, that, should he die before
the accom]ilishnient of his revenge, he should carry
his body with the army, and not commit it to the

ROBERT BRUCE.

203

earth, until a complete victory over his enemies
should be obtained.

Pembroke, the English guardian, marching his
small army u])on Perth, a walled and strongly forti-
fied town, established there his head-quarters. Bruce,
during the short interval since his coronation, had
not been aUogethcr unsuccessful in recruiting the
numbers of liis followers; nor did he think it prudent
to delay engaging this portion of the English forces,
greatly superior as they were, in every respect, to his
own. On drawing near Perth, he sent a challenge,
according to the chivalrous practice of the age, defy-
mg the linglish commander to battle in the open
field. Pembroke returned for answer, that the day
was too far spent, but that he would be ready to
join battle on the morrow. Satisfied with this
assurance, Robert drew off his army to the neighbour-
ing wood of Methven, where he encamped for the
night; parties were dispersed in search of provi-
sions, and the others, throwing aside their armour,
made the necessary arrangements for repose. By
a very culpal)le neglect, or a most unwarrantable
reliance on the promise of the English earl, the
customary watches against surprise were either al-
together omitted, or very careless in their duty.
Pembroke being made aware of the negligent posture
of the Scottish troops, drew out his forces from
Perth, and gaining the unguarded encampment,
succeeded in throwing the whole body into irre-
mediable confusion. The .Scots made but a feeble
resistance, and were soon routed and dispersed.
Philip de Mowbray is said to have unhorsed Bruce,
whom he seized, calling aloud that he had got the
new-made king; when Robert was gallantly rescued
from his perilous situation by Sir Christopher Seton,
his brother-in-law. Another account alTimis that
Ri^bert was thrice unhorsed in the conflict, and
thrice remounted by .Sir Simon Frazer. So des-
perate, indeed, were the personal risks of the king
on that disastrous night, that, for a time, being
totally unsupported, he was made prisoner by John
de Ualiburton, a .Scotsman in the English army, but
who set him at liberty on discovering who he was.

To have sustained even a slight defeat at the
present juncture would have proved of incalculable
injury to Bruce's cause: the miserable overthrow at
Methven seemed to have terminated it for ever.
Several of his truest and bravest friends were made
prisoner-;, among whom were Haye, Barclay, Frazer,
Inchmartin, Sommerville, and Randolph. With
about 500 men, all that he was able to muster
from the bmken remains of his army, Bruce pene-
trated into the mountainous country of Athole. In
this small, but attached band, he still numbered the
Earls of .\thole and Errol, Sir James Douglas, Sir
Neil Campbell, antl his own brave brothers, Edward
and Nigel. Reduced to the condition of proscribed
and hunted outlaws, they endured the extremity of
harilship-; among the barren fastnesses to which they
retreated fur >heltcr. The season, it being then the
middle of summer, rendered such a life, for a time,
])Ossible; but as the weather became less favourable,
and their wants increased, they were constrained to
descend into the low country of Al^erdeenshire.
Here Robert met with his queen and many other
ladies who had tied ihither for safety; and who,
with an affectionate fortitude, resolved, in the com-
pany of their fathers and husbands, to brave the
same evils with which they found them encomjiassed.
The respite which the royal jiarty here enjoyed was
of brief durati')n. Learning that a superior body of
English was advancing upon them, they wore forced
to leave the low country and take refuge in the
mountainous district of Breadalbane. To these

savage retreats they were accompanied by tlie (jueen
and the other ladies, and again had the royalists to
sustain, under yet more distressing circumstances,
the rigorous severity of tlieir lot. Hunting and fish-
ing were the precarious, though almost their only
means of sustaining life; and the g(K>d Sir James
Douglas is particularly noticed by the minute
Barbour for his success in these pursuits, and his
devoted zeal in procuring every possible comfort for
his forlorn and heljdess companions.

While the royalists thus avoided immediate peril
from one quarter, by abiding in those natural strong-
holds, they almost inevitably came in contact with
another. The lord of Lorn, upon the borders of
whose territories they lay, was nearly connected by
marriage with the family of the murdered Comyn;
and, as might be expected, entertained an implacable
hatred towards the Scottish king. Having early
intelligence of the vicinity, numbers, and destitution
of the fugitive royalists, this powerful V)aron collected
a botly of nearly a thousand men well acquainted
with the country, and besetting the passes, obliged
the king to come to battle in a narrow defile where
the horse of the party were rather a hinclrance than
a help. ConsideraV)le loss was sustained on the
king's side, and Sir James LJouglas and De la Haye
were both wounded. Bruce, dreading the total de-
struction of his followers, ordered a retreat; and
himself taking post in the rear, by desperate courage,
strength, and activity, succeeded in checking the
fury of the pursuers, and in extricating his party.
The place of this memorable contest is still pointed
out, and remembered by the name of Dair}-, or the
king's field.

The almost incredible displays of personal prowess
and address which Robert made on this occasion,
are reported to have drawn forth the admiration even
of his deadly enemies. In one of those repeated
assaults which he was obliged to make in order to
check the assailants, he was beset, all at once, by
three armed antagonists. This occurred in a pass,
formed by a loch on the one side, and a precipitous
bank on the other, and so narrow as scarcely to
allow two horses to ride abreast. One seized the
king's horse by the bridle, but by a blow, which
lopjK'd off his arm, was almo>t instantly disabled.
Another got hold of the rider's foot within the
stirrup-iron with the purpose of unhorsing him; but
the king, standing up in the stirru]\ and urging
his steed forward, dragged the unfortunate assailant
to the ground. The third person leaped u]-) behind
him in hope of pinioning his arms and making him
])risoner, or of despatching him with his dagger; but'
turning round, and exerting his utmost strength,
Robert forced him forwards upon the horse's neck
and slew him; after which he killed the helpless
wretch who still dragged at his side. Ikirbour, tl.e
ancient authority by whom this deed ol desperate
valour is recorded, has contrived, whether intention-
ally or not, to throw an air of probability over it.
The laird of Macnaughton, a follower ol' Lorn. %\c
are told, was bold enough, in the j^rcsence ot h:->
chief, to express a generous admiration '.f :l-.e con-
duct of the king. Being ujibraided fir a liiH-rr.iity
which seemed to imply a want of cr'Hsideration tor
the lives and honour of his own men, he rej hn",
"that he who h.ad won tl.e [-ri/e o\ cliivalry,
whether friend or foe, deservel t>.i be s; okeii ol
with respect."

The danger which the royalM party h-'l thy.- for
the time escaped, the near aj ; r 'atii ^ ■! u;nter. '!i;r;ng
which the means of sui'port coi:M not be ] rociMed.
.and their almo-t certam de-truci.on .-h'.r.M they
descend into the kvel cour.tiv, ir.duceJ the kirg to

204

ROBERT BRUCE.

give up all thoughts of keeping the field in the
face of so many difficulties. Tiie queen and ladies
were put under the escort of the remaining cavalry;
and the charge of conducting them to the strong
castle of Kildrummie, committed to Nigel, the
king's second brother, and the Earl of Athole.
The parting was sorrowful on both sides; and
Robert here took the last leave of his brother
Nigel, who not long after fell a victim to the in-
exorable Edward.

Robert now resolved, with his few remaining fol-
lowers, amounting to about 200 men, to force a
jiassage into Cantyre, that thence he might cross over
into the north of Ireland. At the banks of Loch-
lomonil the progress of the party was interrupted.
They dared not travel round the lower end of the
lake, lest they should encounter the forces of Argyle;
and until they should reach the friendly country of
the Ear! of Lennox, they could not, for a moment,
consider themselves safe from tlie enemies who hung
upon their rear. Douglas, after a long search for
some means of conveyance, was fortunate enough
to discover a small boat capable of carrying three
persons, but so leaky and decayed, that there would
l>e much danger in trusting to it. In this, which
was their only resource, the king and Sir James were
ferried over the lake. .Some accom|ilished the
passage by swimming; and the little boat went and
returned until all the others were safely transported.
The royalists, forlorn as their circumstances were,
here fell themselves relieved from the disquietudes
which had attended their late marches; and the
king, while they were refreshing themselves, is said
to have recited for their entertainment the story of
the siege of Egrymor, from the romance of Ferembras.

It was here, while traversing the woods in search
of food, that the king accidentally fell in with the
liar! of Lennox, ignorant till then of the fate of his
sovereign, of whom he hatl received no intelligence
since the defeat at .Methven. The meeting is said to
have affected both, even to tears. By the earl's
exertions the royal party were amply supplied with
provisions, and were shortly after enabled to reach
in safety the castle of Duiiaverty in Cantyre, where
they were hospitably received by Angus of Isla.
Bruce remained no longer in this j)lace than was
necessary to recruit the strengtli and spirits of his
companions. Sir Neil Campbell having provided a
number of small vessels, the fugitive and now self-
exiled king, accompanied by a few of his most
f.iithful followers, ])assed over to the small island of
Kaclirin, on the north coast of Ireland, wliere they
remained during tlie ensuing winter.

A miserable destiny awaited the friends and par-
tisans whom Bruce had left in Scotland. Imme-
diately after the rout at Methven, I'^dward issued a
proclamation fur a search after all those who had
been in arms against the English government, and
ordering tliem to be delivered up dead or alive.
It was ordained that all who were at the slaughter
of Comyn, or who had harboured the guilty jiersons
or their accomplices, should be drawn and jianged:
that all who were already taken, or niiL^ht hereafter
be taken in arms, and all who harboured them,
shouhl be hanged or bchea-led; that thi)-e who had
voluntarily surrendered themselves, should be im-
])risoned during the king's pleasure: and that all
persons, whether of the ecclesiastical order or lav-
men, who had willingly espoused the cause of
Bruce, or who had ]5rocured or exhorted the i)eoplc
of .Scotland to rise in rebellion, '-hould, upon con-
viction, be also imprisoned. \Vith regard to the
common people, a discretionary |)ower of fming and
ransoming them was committed to the guardian.

This ordinance was enforced with a rigour cor-
responding to its spirit, and the dread of Edward's
vengeance became general throughout the kingdom.
The castle of Kildrummie being threatened by the
English forces in the north, Elizabeth, Bruce's queen,
and Marjory his daughter, with the other ladies who
had there taken refuge, to escape the hardships and
dangers of a siege, fled to the sanctuary of St.
Dulhac at Tain in Ross-shire. The Earl of Ross
violated the sanctuary, and making them prisoners,
sent them into England. Certain knights and
squires by whom they had been escorted, being
taken at the same time, were put to death. The
queen and her daughter, though doomed to ex-
perience a long cai)tivity, appear to have been
invariably treated with becoming respect. Isabella,
Countess of Buchan, who had signalized her patrio-
tism on the occasion of Robert's coronation, had a
fate somewhat different. Unwilling to inflict a
capital punishment, the English king had recourse
to an ingenious exjiedient l)y which to satisfy his
vengeance. She was ordered to be confined in a
cage constructed in one of the towers of Berwick
Castle; the cage bearing in shape the reseml lar.ci
of a crown; and the countess was actually kept
in this miserable durance for the remainder of her
life. Mary, one of Bruce's sisters, was committed
to a similar custody in one of the towers of Rox-
burgh Castle; and Christina, another sister, was
confined in a convent. Lainberton, Bishop of St.
Andrews, Wisheart, Bishop of Glasgow, and the
abbot of Scone, who had openly assisted Robert's
cause, owed their lives solely to the inviolability
of the clerical character. Lamberton and the abbot
of Scone were committed to close custody in
England. ^Visheart having been seized in armour,
was, in that uncanonical garb, carried a prisoner
to the castle of Nottingham, where he is said to have
been confined in irons. Edward earnestly solicited
the pope to have these rebellious ecclesiastics
deposed — a request with which his holiness does not
seem to have complied.

The castle of Kildrummie was besieged by the
Earls of Lancaster and Hereford. Being a place (>(
consideralde strength, it might have defied the
English army for a length of time, had not the
treachery of one of the garrison, who set fire to the
magazine of grain and provisions, constrained it to
surrender at discretion. Nigel Bruce, by whom the
castle had been defended, was carried jirisoner to
Berwick; where, being tried by a special commissif)n,
he was condemned, hanged, and afterwards lieheaded.
This miserable fate of the king's brother excited
a deep and universal detestation among the Scots
towards the unrelenting cruelty of Edward. Chris-
topher .Seton, the brother-in-law of Bruce, and
Alexander .Seton, suffered under a similar sentence,
the one at I )uinfries, and the other at Newcastle.
The Earl of Athole, in attemjiting to make his
escape by sea, was discovered and conducted to
London; where he underw-ent the complicated ];un-
ishment then commonly inflicted on traitors, being
hange<l till onlv half dead, beheaded, disembowelled,
"and the trunk of his body Ijurned to ashes before
his own face." /A- 7C'i7s not drawit, that jxjint of
])i;nishment being remitted. Lxlward, we are told,
although then grievously sick, endured the pains of
his disease with greater ])atience after licaring (jf
the cnjiturc of the Earl of Athole. Simon Era/er
of Olivar Castle, the friend and companion in arms
of Wallace, being also taken at this time, suffered
cajiitally at London, and his head being jilaced on
the ])oint of a lance, was set near t(j that of his old
friend and leader. Alon" with this brave man was

ROBERT BRUCE.

likewise executed Herbert de Norham. Among so
many persons of note, others of inferior distinction
did not escape; and Edward miglit, indeed, be said
by his tyranny to have even now provoked that
popular reaction which would suffice for his own
defeat. To complete the measure of Robert's mis-
fortunes, he and all his adherents were solemnly
excommunicated by the pope's legate at Carlisle.
The lord>Iiip of Annandale was bestowed on the
Earl of Hereford, the earldom of Carrick on Henry
de Percy, and his English estates were disposed of
in like manner. During this period Bruce was
fortunately out of the reach and knowledge of his
enemies in the solitary island of Rachrin. Eordun
relates that a' sort of ribald proclamation was made
after him through the churches of Scotland, as lost,
stolen, or strayed.

The approach of spring, and a seasonable supply
of money from Christina of the Isles, again roused
the activity of Robert. Sir James Douglas, with the
permission of his master, first passed over to Arran;
where, shortly after his landing, he surprised a party
belonging to Brodick Castle, in the act of convey-
ing provisions, arms, and clothing to that garrison.
Here he was in a few days joined by the king, who
arrived from Rachrin with a small fleet of thirty-
three galleys. Having no intelligence of the enemy,
a trusty person named Cuthbert was despatched by
the king to the opposite shore of Carrick, with in-
structions to sound the dispositions of the people;
and, if the occasion seemed favourable for a descent
among them, to make a signal, at a day appointed,
by lighting a fire upon an eminence near the castle
of Turnberry. The countr}-, as the messenger found,
was fully possessed by the English; the castle of
Turnberry in the hands of Percy, and occupied by a
garrison of near three hundred men; tiie old vassals
of Bruce disjiirited or indifferent, and many of them
hostile. Appearances seemed altogether so un-
favourable, that Cuthl)crt resolved to return without
making the signal agreed upon. Robert watched
anxiou>ly the opposite coast of Carrick, at the i)oint
from which it should become visible; and when noon
had already passed, a fire was plainly discerned on
the rising ground above Turnberry. Assured that
this could be no other than the concerted signal, the
king gave orders for the instant embarkation of his
men, who amounted to about three hundred. It is
reported that, while he was walking on the l)each,
during the preparations for putting to sea, the woman
at whose house he had lodged requested an audience
of him. Pretending to a knowledge of future events,
she confidently predicted that he should soon be
king of Scotland, but that he must expect to en-
counter many difTiculties and dangers in the course
of tlie war; and, confiding in the truth of her pre-
diction, she sent her two sons along with him.

Towards evening they put to sea; and when night
closed ujion them, they were enabled to direct their
course across the firth by the light of the beacon,
which ^till continued to bunion the heights of Turn-
bjrry. ( )n landing they were met by the messenger
Cuthbert, ^^•ith the unwelcome intelligence that
there was no hi)]ie <>f a-sjstance from the people of
Carrick. "Traitor," cried Bruce, "why made you
then the fire?' "I made no signal," replied the
man, "hut ohserving a fire u]ion the hill, I feared
th.at it might deceive you, and I hasted hither to
warn you from the cn.ist. ' In such a jK'rilous
dilemma, Bruce hesitated upon the course he should
adopt; but. urged l)y the precijiitate >ii;rit of his
brother Edward, and yielding at length to the
dictates of his own more con--i'lerate valour, he
resolved to persevere in the enter; ri>e.

The greater part of the English troops under Percy
were carelessly cantoned in the town, situated at
some little distance from the castle of Turnberry.
Before morning their f|uarters were surprised, and
nearly the whole body, amounting to about two
hundred men, put to the sword. Percy and his
garrison heard from the castle the uproar of the
night attack; but, ignorant alike of the enemy and
their numbers, they dared not attempt a rescue.
Bruce made prize of a rich Iwoty, amongst which
were his own war-horses and houscdiold jilate.
When the news of this bold and successful enter-
prise became known, a detachment of at>ove looo
men, under the command of Roger St. John,
were despatched from Ayr to the relief of Tumberr\ ;
and Robert, unable to oppose such a force, thought
proper to retire into the mountainous parts of
Carrick.

The king's brothers, Thomas and .Mexander, had
been, previously to Rolxirt's departure from Rach-
rin, sent over into Ireland to procure assir>tance;
and having succeeded in collecting about 700
men, they endeavoured to effect a landing at Loch-
rj-an in Galloway, intending from thence to march
into the neighbouring district of Carrick. .Mac-
dowal, a powerful chieftain of Galloway, having
hastily collected his vassals, attacked and routed the
invading party; the two brothers of tiie king anrl
.Sir Reginald Crawfurd, all of them wounded, were
made prisoners; and Malcolm Mackail, lord of Ken-
tir, antl two Irish reguli or chieftains, were slain.
Macdowal cut off the heads of the principal persons
who had fallen; and along with these bloody tokens
of his trium])h, presented his prisoners to King
Edward, then residing at Carlisle. The two brothers
and their associate, supposed by some to have been
a near relation of Wallace, were ordered to im-
mediate execution. This disaster, coupled as it was
with the insured enmity of the Gallovidians, and
the near approach of the English, rendered for a
time the cause of Bruce entirely hopeless. His
jiartisans either fell off or were allowed to dis]ierse
themselves, while he himself often wandered alone.
or but slightly accom])anied, among woods and
morasses, relying on his own great personal prowc><,
or his intimate knowledge of that wild district, in
which he had been brought up, or on the fidelity of
some attached vassal of his family. .Mmost all the
incidents relating to Bruce, at this ])criod of his for-
tunes, partake strongly of the romantic; and were it
not that the authority from which they are derived
has been found to be generally correct, some o!
them might well be deemed fabulous, or gm-s!)-
exaggerated. The perilous circumstances in ^^■hich
he was placed, and his undaunted courage, furnislie'I
of themselves ample sco]ie for the realization lii
marv'ellous adventure; and these, because marvell' iu~
or exaggerated, ought not, on that accomit, to lie
altogether or too hastily rejected. One of tl-.(^s--
adventures, said to have betallen the king r.t t.'i'..--
time, is so extraordinary that we cannot omit it.

While Robert was wandering among tlie rj-!Me--cs
of Carrick, after the defeat of his Iri-!i av.\:!:.'r:es
at Lochryan, his small army so re''.i;ce>i r.^ ii't to
amount to sixty men, the Galloviiiiai> cliar.ced to
gain such intelligence of his situation .1- iivir.cc'i tl'.ein
to .ittempt his surpri>al. They mi-ed. (■ r !li;-- \\i:-
pose, a bodv of more tlian 205 ir.en. a:id jrov^iel
themselves with blooilh.'Un.l- to tr.iLk tlie lu.,'i-i\e-.
Notwithstanding the ]M-ivacy of tb.e^r arrai'.geine::;-.
I'.ruce ha<l notice of his ('..{i^-er. I'.^tkr.ew^ not .-t
what time to exjiect tb.eir .-;tM.. k. Tov.r.rU nigl::
he withdrew h;s bn;vi to a ] -•.■:":i ]'r-:evtei !>y a
morass on the one ^ide, .i:vl iv a rivu'.ct on the

206

ROBERT BRUCE.

other, which had only one narrow ford, over which
the enemy must pass. Here, leaving his followers
to their rest, the king, accompanied by two atten-
dants, returned to the ford, and after listening for
some time, he could at length distinguish the distant
sound of a hound's questing, or that eager yell which
the animal is known to make when urged on in the
pursuit of its prey. Unwilling for this cause alone
to disturb the repose of his fatigued followers, Robert
determined, as it was a clear moonlight night, to
ascertain more exactly the reality of the danger. He
soon heard the voices of men urging the hound for-
ward, and no longer doubtful, he despatched his two
attendants to warn his men of the danger. The
blood-hounds, true to their instinct, led the body of
Gallovidians directly to the ford where the king
stood, who then boldly determined, till succour
should arrive, to defend the passage of the ford,
which was the more possible, as, from its narrow-
ness, only one assailant could pass over at a time.
Seeing only a solitary individual posted on the
opposite side to dispute their way, the foremost of
the enemy rode boldly into the water: but in attempt-
ing to land, Bruce, with a thrust of his spear, laid him
dead on the spot. The same fate awaited four of
his companions, whose bodies became a sort of ram-
part of defence against the others, who fell back
in some confusion. Ashamed that so many sliould
be baftled by one man, they returned to tlie attack;
but were so valiantly opposed, that the post was
still maintained, when the loud shout of Robert's
followers advancing to his rescue, warned the Gallo-
vidians to retire, after sustaining in this unexampled
combat the loss of fourteen men. The danger to
which the king had exposed himself, and tlie great
bravery he had manifested, roused the spirits of his
party, who now began, with increasing numbers, to
flock to his standard. Douglas, who had been
successfully employed against the English in his
own district of Douglasdale, also about this time
joined the king with a reinforcement from the vassals
of his fimily.

Pembroke the guardian, at the head of a consider-
able body, now took the field against Robert; and
was joined by John of Lorn, with 800 Highlanders,
men well calculated for that irregular kind of war-
fare which Bruce was obliged to adopt. Torn is
said to have had along with him a blood-hound
whic'ii had once belonged to the king, and was so
strongly attached to its old master, and familiar with
his scent, that if once it got upon his track it would
never part from it. These two bodies advanced
separately, Pembroke carefully keeping to the low
and open country, where his cavalry could act with
effect; wiiile Lorn by a circuitous route endeavoured
to gain the rear of tiie king's party. The Highland
chieftain so well succeeded in this manonivre, that
before Robert was aware of his danger, he found him-
self environeil by the two hostile bodies of troo]is,
either of which was greatly superior to his own. In
this emergency the king, having a])])oiiited a ])lace
of rendezvous, divided his men into three companies,
and ordered them to retreat by different routes, that
they might have the better chance of esca])e. Lorn,
arriving at the place where the .Scottish army had
separated, set loose the blood-hound, which, falling
upon the king's scent, led the pursuers immedi-
ately on his track. The king finding himself
j)ursued, again subdivided his remaining party into
three, but without effect, for the hound still kept
true to the track of its former master. Tlie case
now appearing desj^erate, Robert ordered the re-
mainder of his followers to disperse themselves;
and, accompanied by oniy one person, endeavoured

by this last means to frustrate the pursuit. In this he
was of course unsuccessful ; and Lorn, who now saw
the hound choose that direction which only two men
had taken, knew certainly that one of these must be the
king; and despatched five of his swiftest men after
them with orders either to slay them, or delay their
flight. Robert finding these men gaining hotly upon
him, faced about, and with the aid of his companion
slew them all. Lorn's men were now so close upon
him that the king could perceive they were led on by
a blood-hound. Fortunately, he and his companion
had reached the near covert of a wood, situated in
a valley through which ran a brook or rivulet.
Taking advantage of this circumstance, Bruce and
his attendant, before turning into any of the sur-
rounding thickets, travelled in the stream so far
as was necessary to destroy the strong scent upon
which the hound had proceeded. The Highland
chieftain, on arriving at the rivulet, here found that
the hound had lost its scent; and aware of the
difficulty of a further search, was compelled to quit
the chase. By another account the escape of Bnice
from the blood-hound is told thus: An archer who
had kept near to the king in his flight, having dis-
covered that by means of the hound Robert's course
had been invariably tracked, stole into a thicket,
and from thence despatched the animal with an
arrow.

Bruce reached in safety the rendezvous of his party,
after having narrowly escaped from the treachery of
three men, by whom, however, his faithful companion
was slain. The English, under the impression
that the .Scottish army was totally dispersed, ne-
glected the necessary precautions ; and the king,
aware of their security, succeeded in surprising a
body of 200, carelessly cantoned at some little dis-
tance from the main army, and put the greater part
of them to the sword. Pembroke soon after i-etired
towards the borders of England, but was not long
in gaining such information as led him to hope
the surprisal of the king. Approaching with great
secrecy a certain wood in Glentruel, where Robert
then lay, he was on the point of accomplishing
his purjwse, when the .Scots, happily discovering
their danger, rushed forth unexpectedly upon their
assailants and put them to flight. Pembroke, upon
this defeat, retreated with his army to Carlisle.

Robert, encouraged by these successes, now ven-
tured down upon the low country, and soon reduced
the districts of Kyle, Carrick, and Cunningham tf)
his obedience. .Sir Philip Mowbray having been
despatched with looo men to make head against this
rapid ])rogress, was attacked at advantage by Doug-
las with so much s])irit, that, after a loss of sixty
men, his force was routed, himself narrowly escaping.
Pembroke again determined to take the field in per-
son, and with a strong body of cavalry advanced
into Ayrshire, and came up with the army of Bruce
on Loudon Hill. The Scottish king, though his
forces were still greatly inferior in number, and con-
sisted entirely of infantry, determined to give battle
to the lOnglish on the spot. He had carefully selected
his gr(nind, and by strongly intrenching the flanks
of his ])osition, was a match for the numbers and
cavalry of the enemy. His force amounted in all to
about Coo spearmen; that of Pembroke was not
less than 3000 well mounted and armed soldiery,
(lis])laying an imposing contrast to the small but
luiyielding mass opposed to them. Pembroke,
dividing his army into two lines or divisions, ordered
the attack to be commenced; and the van, with
lances couched, advanced at full gallop to the charge.
The .Scots sustained the shock, a desjierate conflict
ensued, and the English van was at length driven

ROBERT BRUCE.

2C7

back upon the rear or second division. This decided
the fortune of the day. The Scots were now the
assailants, and the rear of the English, panic-struck
and disheartened, jjave way, and finally retreated.
The rout became {general; Pembroke's whole army
was put to flight, a considerable number beinj^ slain
in the battle and pursuit, and many made prisoners.
The loss on the part of the Scots is said to have
been extremely small.

Three days after the battle of Loudon Hill Rnice
encountered antl defeated Monthemiur, and ol)liged
him to take refuge in the castle of .Ayr. lie for
some time blockaded this place, but retired at the
•approach of succours from England. These successes,
though in themselves limited, proved of the utmc^st
importance to Robert's cause, and gave it that
stability which hitherto it hacl never attained. The
death of ICdward I. at this period was another event
which could not but favourably affect the fortunes of
Scotland, at the very moment when the whole force
of England was collected for its invasion. That
great monarch's resentment towards Hruce and his
patriotic followers did not die with him. With his
last breath he gave orders that his dead body should
accompany the army into .Scotland, and remain
unburied until that country was totally subdued.
Edward II. disregarded this injunction, and had
the body of his father more becomingly disposed of
in the royal sepulchre at Westminster.

Edward II., by his weak antl obstinate disposition,
was incapable of appreciating, far less of acting up
to the dying injunctions of his heroic father. His
utter disregard for these was, indeed, manifested in
the very first act of his reign — that of recalling his
unworthy favourite I'iers Gaveston from exile, who
with other minions of his own cast was from that
moment to take the place of all the faithful and
experienced ministers of the late king, and by this
measure he laid an early foundation for the disgust
and alienation of his English subjects. His manage-
ment in regard to .Scotland was equally unpropitious.
After wasting much valuable time at Dumfries and
Roxburgh in receiving the homage of tlie Scottish
barons, he advanced as far as Cumnock in Ayrshire,
from whence, witiiout striking a blow, he retreated
into England. A campaign so inglorious, after all
the mighty jireparation spent upon it, could not but
have a happy effect upon the rising fortunes of the
.Scottish patriots, while it disheartened ail in Scotland
who from whatever cause favoured the English in-
terest.

The Englisji king had no sooner retired than
Bruce invaded Galloway, and, wherever opposctl,
wasted tile country with fire and sword. The fate
of his two Ijrothers, who had here fallen into the
hands of tlie cliieftain Macdowal, most probably in-
Ihienced the king in this act of severe retribution.
Tiie Earl of Riciimond, wliom Edward had newly
created guardian, was sent to oppose his progress,
upon whicii Rotiert retired into the north of Scot-
land, leaving Sir James Douglas in the south for the
jiurpose of reducing the forests of Selkirk and Jed-
l)urgh to obedience. 'I'iie king, without encounter-
ing almost any resistance, overran great ]iart of the
north, seizing, in his progress, tlie castle of Inverness
and many otiier fortified i>laces, wliich he ordered to
be entirely dcniolishcd. Returning southward, he
was met by the l-".,irl of IJuclian at tlie hcacl of a tu-
multuary body of Scot> and lOnglish, whom, at the
first cliarge, he put to thghl. In the course of this
expedition the king became affected witii a grievous
illness, whicli reduced Iii-> bodily and mental strength
to that d-gree, that little hopes were entertained of
his recjvc.'v. Ancient historians have attributed this

malady to the effects of the cold, famine, poor lotlg-
ing, and hardships, to which he had been subjected
ever since the defeat at Methven.

Buchan, encouraged by the king's illness, again
assembled his numerous followers, and being joined
by .Mowbray, an English commander, came up with
the king's forces, then strongly posted near Slaines,
on the east coast of Aberdeenshire. The royalists
avoided battle; and beginning to Imj straitened for
provisions, retired in good order, first to Strathbogie,
and afterwards to Inverury. I5y this time the violence
of the king's disorder had abated, and he began In-
slow degrees to recover strength. I'uchan, wlio still
watched for an opportunity, advanced to (Jld .Me!-
dnim; and Sir David Brechin, who had joined him-
self to his party, came upon Inverury suddenly with
a detachment of troops, cut off several of the royalists
in the outskirts of the town, and retired without loss.
This military bravado instantly roused the king; and,
though too weak to mount on horseback without as-
sistance, and supported by two men on each side
of his saddle, he took the direction of his troops,
and encountering the forces of Buchan, thougli
much superior to his own, put them to flight. Th'_-
agitation of spirits which Robert underwent on this
occasion is said to have restored him to health.

About this time the castle of Abertleen was sur-
prised by the citizens, the garrison put to the sword,
and the fortifications razed to the grf)und. A Ijody
of English having been collected for the purpose of
chastising this bold exploit, they were spiritedly met
on their march by the inhabitants, routed, and a con-
siderable number taken juisoners, who were after-
wards, says Boece, hanged upon gibbets around the
town, as a terror to their companions. A person
named I'hilip, the forester of Platane, having col-
lected a small body of patriots, succeeded, about the
same period, in taking the strong castle of Eorfar by
escalade. The English garrison were put to the
sword, and the fortifications, by order of the king,
destroyed. Many persons of note who had hitherto
o]iposed Bruce, or who from pnidential considera-
tions had submitted to the domination of England,
now openly espoused the cause of their countr)-.
Among the rest, .Sir David Brechin, the king'-
nephew, upon the overthrow at Inverury, submitted
himself to his uncle.

While Robert was thus successfully engaged in the
north, his brother Eilward invaded Cialloway. Ik-
was opposed by Sir Ingram Umphraville and .Sir
John de .St. John with about 1200 men. A bloody
battle ensued at the Water of Cree, in which the
I-^iiglish, after severe loss, were constrained to flee.
Cireat slaughter was made in the pursuit, and the two
commanders escaped with difliculty to the castle C'i
Butel, on the sea-coast. .Sir John retired into
England, where, raising a f^rce of 1500 men, l-.e
returned into Calloway in the hope of finding 1.;-
victorious enemy unprepared. Edward Bruce, how-
ever, hatl notice of his movement^, and w'.iU hi-
characteristic valour or temerity, resolved to over-
reach the enemy in their own stratagem. Ir.t reach-
ing his infantry in a strong jio-ition in. llie lii;e id
march of the assailants, he himself, witii tiily iMr-e-
men well harnessed, succeeded in gaining their nar,
with the intent of filling unexpecteiily r] >n t!;em
so soon as his intrenched camp sl^ '-.ild le ri->.i:led.
l-'.dward w.as favoured in this lm/anh>-.:s r.i.-iiiM uvi •
by a mi.-t so thick that no object cul 1 be .i:-cernL 1
at the distance of a howdiot: but. before b.:s dt-ign
could be brought to b.-:ir. tl-.c v.ii • .I'.r- -uddtnlv
clearing awav, let't hi-> sinail ] .-.ity ;;;I!y d;-coverc'l
to the Englidi. Retreat \v.:'i nny e!i.-rce of_-afety
was impossible, and to the reckle-> cjurnge ul their

20S

ROBERT BRUCE.

leader no thought of retreat occurred. His fifty
horsemen no sooner became visible to their astonished
foes than tiiey rushed furiously to the attack, and
put them to rout. Thus successful in the field,
Eilward expelled the English garrisons, and reducetl
the whole district to the authority of his brother.

Douglas, after achieving many advantages in the
south, among which the successive captures of his
own castle in Douglasdale were the most remarkable,
about this time surprised and made prisoners Alex-
ander Stewart of Bonkil, and Thomas Randolpli, the
king's nejihew. When RandoI])li, wlio, from tlie
defeat at Methven, had ailheretl faithfully to the
English interest, was brouglit before his sovereign,
the king is reported to have said, "Nephew, you
have been an apostate for a season; you must now
be reconciled." " i\>u require penance of /«<•.'" re-
plied Randolph fiercely; "yourself rather ought to do
jienance. Since you challenged the King of England
to war, you ouglit to have asserted your title in the
open field, and not to have betaken yourself to
cowardly ambuscades." " 7'/i(7( may be hereafter,
antl perchance ere long," the king calmly replied;
"meanwhile, it is fitting that your proud words re-
ceive due chastisement, and that you be taught to
know my right and your own duty." After this re-
buke Randolph was oriiered for a time into close con-
finement. This singxdar interview may have been
preconcerted between the parties for the purpose of
cloaking under a show of restraint Randolph's true
feelings in joining the cause of his royal relative.
Certain it is, his confinement was of brief duration;
anil in all the after acts of his life he showed with
how hearty a devotion he had entered on his new and
more honourable field of enterprise.

Shortly after the rejunction of Douglas, Bruce
carried his arms into the territory of Lorn, being
now able to take vengeance on the proud chieftain
who, after the defeat at Methven, had so nearly
accomplished his destniction. To oppose this inva-
sion the Lord of Lorn collected about 2000 men,
whom he posted in ambuscade in a defile, having
the high mountain of Ben Cruachan on the one side,
and a ])rccii>ice overhanging Loch Awe on the other.
This pass was so narrow in some places as not to admit
of two horsemen passing abreast. Robert, who had
timely information of the manner in which this road
was beset through which he must necessarily pass,
detached one-half of his army, consisting entirely of
light-armed troops and archers, under Douglas, with
orders to make a circuit of the mountain, and so gain
the high ground in the rear and flank of the enemy's
l^osition. He himself, with the rest of his troops,
entered the pass, where they were soon attacked by
the ambusjmient. This lasted not long; for the party
of Di)Ug!a> appearing on the heights immediately
above them and in their rear, descended the mountain
and fell upon them swf)r<l in hand, the king, at the
same time, pressing upon them from the ])ass. The
men of Lorn were (lefeated with great slaughter; and
their chief, whohad planned thisunsuccessful ambush,
after witnessing its miscarriage, soon after ]nit to sea,
and retired into England. Robert laid waste the
whole di-itrict of Lorn; and gaining possession of
Dunstaffiiage, garrisoned it strongly with his own
soldiers.

While Bruce and his ])arti>ans were tlius suc-
cessfully emancipating .Scotland, and subduing the
refractory spirit of sonic of their own nobility, cvery-
tliing was feeldc and fluctuating in the councils of
their enemies. In less than a year I'.dward changed
or re-ap[)ointed the governors of Scotland six differenl
times. Through the mediation of Philip, King of
Erancc, a short truce was finally agreed upon betw-jrn

Edward and Robert; but infractions having been
made on both sides, Bruce laid siege to the castle of
Rutherglen. In Eebruary, 1310, a truce was once
more agreed upon, notwithstanding wdiich John de
Segrave was appointed to the guardianship of Scot-
land on both sides of the F'orth, and hail the warlike
jiower of the north of England placed at his disposal.
It was early in the same year that the clergy of Scot-
land assembled in a provincial council, and issued
a declaration to all the faithful, bearing that the
Scottish nation, seeing the kingdom betrayed and
enslaved, had assumed Robert Bruce for their king,
and that the clergy had willingly done homage to
him in that character.

During these negotiations hostilities were never
entirely laid aside. The advantages of the warfare,
however, were invariably on the side of Bruce, who
was now preparing to attack Perth, at that time
esteemed the capital of Scotland; and roused to
activity by this danger, Edward made prejiarations
for its immediate defence. The whole military array
of England was ordered to meet the king at Berwick;
but the English nobles, disgusted with his govern-
ment, and detesting his favourite Gaveston, repaired
unwillingly to the royal standard. Towards the end
of autumn the English commenced their march, and
directing their course through the forest of .Selkirk
to Biggar, are said to have thence penetrated as far
as Renfrew. Not finding the enemy, in any body,
to oppose their progress, and unable from the season
of the year, aggravated as it was by a severe famine,
to procure forage and provisions, the army retreated
by the way of Linlithgow and the Lothians to Ber-
wick, where Edward remained inactive for eight
months. Bruce, during this invasion, cautiously
avoided an open engagement, contenting himself
with sending detached parties to hang upon the rear
of the English.

About this time the castle of Linlithgow — a place
of great importance to the English, as being midway
between Stirling and Edinljurgh — was surprised by
a poor peasant named William Binnock. This man,
having been employed to lead hay into the fort,
placed a party of armed friends in ambush as near
as possible to the gate; and concealing under his
seeming load of hay eiglit armed men, advanced to
the castle, himself walking carelessly by the side of
the wain, while a servant led the cattle in front.
WHien the carriage was fairly in the gateway, so that
neither the gates of the castle could be closed, nor
the portcullis let down, the person in front wdio had
charge of the oxen cut the soam or withy rope by
which the animals were attached to the wain, \\hich
thus instantly became stationary. Binnock, making
a concerted signal, his armed friends leaped from
under the hay and mastered the sentinels; and being
immediately joined by the other party in ambush,
the garrison, almost without resistance, were put to
the sword, and the place taken.

Robert, finding his authority well established at
home, and Edward almost entirely engrossed l)y the
dissensions of his own subjects, resolved, by an inva-
sion of I'ingland, to retaliate the miseries with w hich
that country had so long afflicted his kingdom. As-
sembling a considerable army, he advanced into the
bishopric of Durham, laying waste the country with
fire and sword, and giving up the wdiole district to
the reckless license of the soldiery. "Thus," says
Fordun, "by the blessing of (jod, and by a just
riiributionof providence, were the]KM-fidious English,
wlio had desi)oilcd and slaughtered many, in their
turn subjected to punishment." lulwanl II. made
a heavy complaint to the pope of the "horril)le
ravages, depredations, burnings, and murders" com-

ROBERT BRUCE.

209

mitted by "Robert Bruce and his accomplices"
in this inroad, in which "neither age nor sex were
spared, nor even the immunities of ecclesiastical
liberty respected." The papal thunder had, how-
ever, already descended harmless on the Scottish
king and his party; and the time had arrived when
the nation eagerly hoped, and the English might
well dread, tlie coming of that storm which should
avenge the injuries inflicted on Scotland.

Soon after his return from England, Robert laid
siege to Perth, a place in those days so strongly
forlified, that, with a sufficient garrison, it might
bid defiance to any open force. Ilaving lain before
the town for six weeks, the king raised the siege,
and retired to some distance, as if he had desisted
from the enterprise. He had gained intelligence,
however, that the ditch which surrounded the town
was fordable in one i:)lace; and having provided
scaling-ladders of a sufficient length, he, with a
chosen body of infantry, returned after an absence
of eight days, and approached the works. The
self-security of the garrison, who thought he was
at a distance, and the darkness of the night,
favoured his enterprise. Himself carrying a ladder,
he was the foremost to enter the ditch, the water
of which reached breast-high, and the second
to mount the walls when the ladders were applied.
.'V French knight, serving under the Scottish king,
having witnessed such a gallant example, is reported
to have e.\claimed with enthusiasm, "What sliall we
say of our lords of France, that with dainty living,
wassail, and revelry pass their time, when so worthy
a kniglit, through his great chivalry, puts his life into
so great hazard to win a wretched hamlet." Saying
this, he, with the lively valour of his nation, tlirew
himself into the fosse, and shared in the danger and
glory of the enterprise. The walls were scaled, and
the town taken almost without resistance. By the
king's orelers quarter was given to all wiio laid down
their arms; and in accordance with the policy he
had hitiierto pursued, the fortifications of the place
were entirely demolished.

Edward once more made advances for a truce
with the .Scottish king; but Robert, who well knew
the importance of following up his success, rejected
the proposals, and again invaded England. In
this incursion the Scottish army ravaged and plun-
dered the county of Northumberland and bishopric
of Durham. The towns of Hexham and (Jor-
bridge, and great part of the city of Durham, were
burned. The army, in returning, were bold enough,
by a forced m.irch, to attempt the surprisal of
Berwick, where the English king then lay; but
tlieir design being discovered, they were obliged to
retire. So great was the terror of these predatory
visitations in the districts exposed to them, that the
inhabitants of the county of Durham, and afterwards
those of Northumberland, Cumberland, and West-
moreland, conlri!)uted each a sum of ^2000 to be
spared in future from such spoliations. In the same
year the king as-aulted and took the castles of IJutel,
Dumfries, and D.il^winton. The strong and impor-
tant fortress of l\o\hurgh, also, at this time fell into
his liands by the stratagem and braverv of ."^ir lames
Douglas. .\11 of these places were, by the king's
orilers, destroyed, that they might on no future occa-
sion become serviceable to the enemy.

The surprisal of l-",dinl)urgh Ca>tle by Randolph, the
king's nepiiew, ought not, among the stirring events of i
this time, to be passed over. That brave knight had for j
some time strictly l)lockaded the cxstlc; but the ]ilace
being one of great naturnl strength, strongly fortil'ied,
and well stored with men and iirovisions, there seemed
little hope of its cajiture. The garrison were aLo

VOL. I.

completely upon the alert. Having had reason to
suspect the fidelity of Lcland, their governor, they
hail put him under confinement, and elected another
commander. Matters stood thus when a singular
disclosure, made to Randolph by a man named
William Frank, suggested the possibility of taking
the almost impregnable fortress by escalade. This
man, in his youth, had resided in the castle as one
of the garrison; and having an amorous intrigue in
the city, he had been wont to descend the wall in the
night by means of a rope-ladder, and through a steep
and intricate path to arrive at the foot of the rock.
By the same precipitous road he had always regained
the castle without discovery; and so familiar had all
its windings become to him, that he confidently en-
gaged to guide a party by the same track to the
bottom of the walls. Randolph resolved to under-
take the enterprise. Ilaving provided a suitable
ladder, he, with thirty chosen men, put himself under
tiie guidance of Frank, who, towards the middle of
a dark night, safely conducted the party to the bottom
of the precipitous ascent. After clambering with
great difficulty about half-way up the rock, the ad-
venturous party reached a broad projection or shelf,
on which they rested to recover breath. While in
this position, they heard above them the guard or
check-watch of the garrison making their rounds, and
could distinguish that they paused a little on that
j)art of the ramparts immediately over them. One
of the watch, throwing a stone from the wall, cried
out, "Away, I see you well." The stone flew over
the heads of the ambuscading party, who happily re-
mained unmoved, as they really were unseen. The
guard, hearing no stir to follow, passed on. Having
waited till they had gone to a distance, the assailants
again got up, and at the peril of their lives succeeded
in clambering up the remaining part of the rock to
the foot of the wall, to which they affixed their ladder.
I'rank, the guide, was first to mount the walls; .Sir
Andrew Gray was the next; Randolph himself was
the third. Before the whole could reach the summit
of the wall, the alarm was given, and the garrison
ruslied to arms. A fierce encounter took place; bi:t
the governor having been slain, the luiglish sur-
rendered. The fortifications of the castle were dis-
mantled; and Leland, the former governor, having
been released from his confinement, entered the Scot-
tish service.

Tiie Earl of Athole, who had long adhered to the
English faction, and who had recently obtained as
a reward for his fidelity a grant of lands in England,
now joined the rising fortunes of his lawful sovereign.
Tiirough the mediation of France, conferences ft>r a
truce were renewed; but, notwithstanding of these,
Robert invaded Cumberland, wasting the ciuntry to
a great extent. The Cumbrians earnestly besought
succour from Edward: but that prince being aij )ut
to depart for France, did nothing but extol tlieir
fidelity, desiring them to defend themselves until his
return. I>y invading Cumberland at this lime, I'ruce
jirobably intended to draw the attention of the I'.ng-
lish from the more serious design which he coiuein-
plated of making a descent upon the I^le ol Man.
He had scarcely, therefore, returned from his jireda-
tory expedition into England, than, enib.irking his
forces, he landed unexpectedly uihui thra_ iMand,
overthrew the governor, took the ca-tle '■( Rutiin,
and possessed himself of the i-i.md. Tlio .Manx
governor on this occasion i<. with grrat j'T' >babdily,
conjectured to have been the same Ca'.loviiiian clr.et-
tain who tlefeated and made ]iri-''iicrs at I.ochryan
the two brothers of the Scuiti-h king.

On his return i'vnn France. Iviward was met by
comnii--sioners sent to him bv such Scots .a> stiil

14

ROBERT BRUCE.

remained faithful in their allegiance to England.
These made bitter complaint of the miserable condi-
tion to which they had been reduced, both from the
increasing power of Bruce, and from the oppression
which they suffered under the government of the
English ministers. P^dward, deserted and despised
by his nobility, who at this time not only refused to
attend his army, but even to assemble in parliament
upon his summons, could merely answer these com-
plaints by promises which he was unable to jier-
form. ^Ieanwhile the arms of the jiatriots continued
to prosper. Eilward Brace took antl destroycil the
castle of Rutherglen, and the town and castle of
Dundee, lie next laid siege to the castle of Stirling,
then held by Philip de Mowl)ray, an English com-
mander of bravery and reputation; but was here less
successful. Unable, by any mode of attack known
in those days, to make impression on a fortress of so
great strength, Edward consented to a treaty witli the
governor that the place should be surrendered, if not
succoured by tiie King of England before St. John's
day in the ensuing midsummer. Brace was much
displeased with his brotlier for having granted such
a truce, yet lie consented to ratify it. Tlie sjwce of
time agreed upon allowed ample leisure to the Eng-
lish king to collect his forces for the relief of the
castle — the almost only remaining stronghold which
he now possessed in Scotland; and Robert felt that
he must either oppose him in battle with a greatly
inferior army, or, by retreating in such circumstances,
lessen the great fame and advantages which he had
accpiired.

The English king having effected a temporary re-
conciliation with his refractory nobility, lost no time
in making ])reparations, not only to relieve the castle
of .Stirling, but to recover the revolted kingdom to
his authority. lie summoned the whole power of
the English barons to meet him in arms at Berwick
on the I Ith of June; invited to his aid l-2th O'Connor,
chiefofthe native Irish of Connaught, and twenty-six
other Irish chieftains; summoned liis I-higlish suljjects
in Ireland to atten<l his standard, and put both them
and the Irish auxiliaries under the command of the
Earl of Ulster. ".So vast," says Barbour, "was the
army which was now collected, that nothing nearly
so numerous had ever before been arrayed by luigland,
and no force that Scotland could produce might
po>sibly have been able to withstand it in the open
field." A considerable number of ships were also
ordered for the invasion of .Scotland by sea, and for
transporting ])rovisions and warlike stores for the
use of the army.

The Scottish king, meanwhile, used every effort
to meet the apjiroaching contest, and a])pointed a
general rende/VDUs of his forces at the Torwood,
between Falkirk and Stirling. I lis fighting men
somewhat exceeded 30,f)Ooin inmibcr, besides about
15,000 unarmed and undisciplined followers of the
camp, acc(;rding to the mode in those times. Two
days before the battle he took uj) his jiosition in a
field not far from .Stirling, then known by the name
of New i'ark, which had the ca-.tle on the left, and
the brook of IJannock on the right. The banks of
the rivulet were steej) and rugged, and the ground
between it and Stirling, being jiart of a ])ark or chase,
was partly open, and jiartly broken by co])se-wood
and marshy ground. The place was naturally well
ada])ted for opposing the attacks of cavalry, and to
strengthen it yet more those places whereby horsemen
might have access were covered with concealed ])it-
falls, so numerous anrl close together, that, according
to one ancient authority, they might be likened to
a honey-comb. They were a foot in width, and
between two and three feet deep, many rows being

placed one behind the other, the whole being slightly
covered with sods and brushwood, so as not to be
obvious to an imiietuous enemy. The king divided
his regidar forces into four divisions. Three of these
occupied the intended line of battle, from the brook
of Bannock, which covered his right flank, to the
village of St. Ninians, where their left must have re-
mained somewhat exposed to the garrison of Stirling
in their rear; Bruce, jierhaps, trusting in this dispo-
sition partly to the honour of Mowbray, who by the
terms of the treaty was precluded from making any
attack, but probably more to his real inability of
giving any eiTectual annoyance. Edward Bruce com-
manded the right wing of these three divisions, which
was strengthened by a strong body of cavalry under
Keith, the maresehal of Scotland, to whom was
committed the charge of attacking the English
archers; .Sir James Douglas and the young Stewart
of Scotland led the central division, and Thomas
Randolph, now I'larl of Moray, the left. The king
himself commanded the fourth or reserve division,
composed of the men of Argyle, the islanders, and
his own vassals of Carrick. The unarmed followers
of the camp were placed in a valley at some distance
in the rear, separated from the field by an eminence,
since denominated, it is supposed, from this circum-
stance, the Gillies' (that is, the Servants') Hill. These
dispositions were made upon the 22d of June, 1314;
and next day, being Sunday, the alarm reached the
Scottish camp of the approach of the enemy. Sir
James Douglas and the maresehal were despatched
with a body of cavalry to reconnoitre the English
army, then in full march from Falkirk towards Stir-
ling. They soon returned, and, in private, informed
the king of the formidable state of the enemy, but
gave out publicly that the English, though indeed
a numerous host, seemed ill commanded and dis-
orderly. The hurried march of Edward into Scot-
land might give some colour of truth to this infor-
mation; but no sight, we are told by the ancient
authors, could in reality be more glorious and ani-
mating than the advance of that great army, in which
were concentrated the whole available chivaliy, and
all the martial pomp which the power and riches of
the English monarch could command.

Robert was jiarticularly anxious that no succours
from the ICnglish army should reach the garrison in
Stirling Castle, and enjoined Randolph, who com-
manded his left wing, to be vigilant against any such
attempt. This ])recaution was not unsuccessful; for,
as the F",nglish forces drew near, a body of 800 horse-
men were detached under the command of Clifford,
who, making a circuit by the low grounds to the
east and north of .St. Ninians, attempted to pass the
front of the .Scottish army and a])]ni)ach the castle.
They were jierceived by the king, who, coming
hastily up to Randolph, exclaimed, "Thoughtless
man ! you have suffered the enemy to jiass your
]-)ost: a rose has fallen from jour chai)lell" On
receiving this sharp reproof, Randoljdi hurried with
500 spearmen t<; redeem his negligence, or jierish
in the atteni])t. The English ca\alry, jierceiving
his advance, wheeled round to attack him. Randol])h
drew up his small ]iarty into a comjiaet form, jire-
seiiting a front of s]icars extending outwards on all
sides, and awaited the charge. In this jiorcupine-
like firm \\ere they assailed on every side by
Clifford's cavalry, but without effect. At the first
onset a considerable number of the Ijiglish were
unhorsed, and Sir \Villiam Daynccouit, an officer of
rank, was slain. Fjivironed, however, as he was,
there seemed no chance for Randoljih; and Douglas,
v.ho v.itnessed the ieo])ardy of his friend, rer[ueste(l
permission of the king to go and succour him.

ROBERT BRUCE.

"You shall not move from your ground," said Robert ;
"let Randolph extricate himself as he best may;
I will not for him break purpose." "In truth," re-
plied Douglas, after a pause, "I cannot stand by and
see Randolph perish; and, with your leave, I must
aid him." The king unwillingly consented, and
Douglas hastened to the rescue. The generous sup-
port of the good knight was not required; for he
had not advanced far when he perceived the F^nglish
to waver, and fall into confusion. Ordering his
followers to halt, "those brave men," said he, "have
repulsed the enemy; let us not diminish their glory
by sharing it." The assailants had indeed begun to
flag in their efforts, when Randolph, who watched
well his opportunity, ordering, in his turn, a sudden
and furious charge among them, put the whole body
to flight, sustaining on his own side a loss so small
as to seem almost incredible.

While this spirited combat was going on in one
part of the field, another, of a still more extraordinary
character, was destined to arrest the attention of both
armies. The English, who had slowly advanced in
order of battle, had at length, before evening, ap-
proached so near, that the two opposing vanguards
came distinctly into view of each other. Robert was
then riding leisurely along the front of the .Scottish
line, meanly mounted on a small palfrey, having a
battle-axe in his hand, and distinguished from his
knights by a circlet of gold over his helmet. Henry
de Bohun, an English knight, completely armed,
chanced to ride somewhat in advance of his com-
panions, when, recognizing the Scottish king alone,
and at such disadvantage, he rode furiously towards
him with his spear couched, trusting to have unhorsed
or slain him on the spot. Robert awaited the en-
counter, avoided the spear of his adversary, and
rising in the stirru]5s, struck Bohun, as he passed,
with such a blow of his battle-axe as to cleave the
steel helmet of the knight, and break the handle of
the axe into two. The Scots, animated by this
exploit of their leader, advanced upon the English
vanguard, wlio immetliately fell Iwck in some con-
fusion upon their main body. When the .Scottish
army had again recovered order, some of its leaders
kindly rebuked Robert for his nnprudence. The
king, conscious of the justice of their remarks, said
that he was sorry for the loss of his good battle-axe.
These two incidents falling out so opportunely upon
the eve of battle greatly animated the courage of the
patriot army, while, in a like degree, they abashed
and dispirited the enemy.

On Monday the 24th of June, at break of day, the
two armies mustered in order of battle. The van of
I he luiglish, consisting of archers and lancemen, was
commanded by the Earl of Gloucester, nephew of
King Edward, and the Earl of Hereford, constable
of England. Tlie main body, comprising nine great
divisions, was led l)y the king in person, attended by
the Earl of I'embroke and .Sir Giles d'Argentine,
a knigiu of Rhodes, and a chosen body of 500 well-
armed horse as his body-guards. The nature of the
ground did not permit the extension of this vast force,
the van division alone occupying the whole front of
battle, s ) that to the Scots they apjieared as compos-
ing one great com]iact columii. The .Scots drew up
in the order whicli we have already described.
Maurice, abl)ot of Inchaffroy, placing himself on an
eminence in view of tiie whole .Scottish army, cele-
brated high mas^; tlicn passing along the line bare-
footed, and bearing a crucitix in his hand, he ex-
horted the Scots in few and forcible words to combat
for their rights and their lil)crty. upon which the
whole armv knelt down and received his benediction.
When King Edward observed the small and unpre-

tending army of his enemies, he seemed suq>rised,
and turning himself to Sir Ingram Umphraville, ex-
claimed," "What ! will yon Scotsmen fight?" "Yea,
sickerly," replied the knight, who even went the
length of advising the king that, instead of making
an open attack under so great disddvantages of
position, he should feign a retreat, pledging himself,
from his own experience, that by such means only
could he break the firm array of the Scots and over-
whelm them. The king disdained this counsel; and
chancing then to observe the whole body of the
Scots kneel themselves to the ground — "See," said
he, "yon folk kneel to ask mercy." "You say
truly," Sir Ingram replied; "they ask mercy, but it
is not of you, but of God. '\'on men will win the
field or die." "Be it so then," said the king, and
immediately gave order to sound the charge.

At the signal of attack, the van of the English
galloped on to charge the right wing of the .Scots,
commanded by Edward, the king's brother, and
were received with unshaken firmness. This ad-
vance allowed part of the main body of the
English to come up, who, moving obliquely to the
right of their own van, were soon engaged with the
centre and left flank of the .Scottish army. The
conflict thus soon became general along the whole
.Scottish line. Repeated and desperate attempts
were made by the Engish cavalrj' to break the firm,
or as they seemed immovable, phalanxes of the enemy,
but with no effect. Straitened and harassed by the
nature of the ground, they with difiiculty maintained
order; and but that they were pressed on by the mass
in their rear, the front lines of the English would
have been repulsed. Bruce perceiving that his troops
were grievously annoyed by the English archers, de-
tached a small but chosen band of cavalry under Sir
Robert Keith, who, making a circuit by the right
extremity of the Scottish line, fell furiously upon the
unprotected archers in flank, and put them to flight.
This body of men, whose importance in an English
army was so often exemplified, were so effectually
scattered, as to be of no after use in the battle.
Robert with his body of reserve now joined battle;
and though the furj- on both sides was not relaxed,
the English forces were ever)' moment falling more
and more into disorder. Matters were in this criti-
cal state, when a singular accident or device, for it
never has been ascertained which, decided the fortune
of the (lav. As before stated, the .Scottish camp
was attended by about fifteen thousand followers;
and these, along withthecamp bagg.oge, were stationed
by Bruce to the rear of a little eminence called Gillies'
Hill. These men, either instrticted for the purpose,
or, wh^t seems more likely, perceiving that the
English amiy began to give way, resolved with what
weapons chance aflbrded, to fall down into the rear
of their countrymen, so that they might share in the
honour and plunder of the victoiy. They drew up
into a sort of martial order, some mounted on the
baggage horses and others on foot, having >}iects
fastened upon tent-poles and spears, in.-tcad of
banners. The sudden spectacle of what secnud to
the English a new army, completed their contu.-ion;
the .Scots felt their advantage, and raising a >Ii(ait,
pressed forward on their enemies witli a fi;iy which
became irresistible. Discipline and union weie lost.
and the rout of the Engli>h was comiileie.

I'end)roke, when he snw tint the day was lost.
seized Iviward's liorse by the l)ri'llc. and constrained
him to leave tlie field. Wlun Sir ( ".ilcs d'Argentine.
the brave kniglit of Rhode-. w.-.> informed of the
king's flight, and ]irc-<c<l t' ncconijiany h;ni. "It
never was my wont to ily." >aid he, and jaitting
spurs to Ids horse, he ru-hcd into the l>alilc and met

212

ROBERT BRUCE.

his death. It was a \nilgar opinion, that the
three greatest warriors of that age were Henry
of Luxemburg emperor of Germany, Robert king
of Scotland and Sir Giles d' Argentine. Sir James
Douglas, with sixty horsemen, followed hard in pur-
suit of the English king. At the Torwood he was
met by Sir Lawrence Abernethy with twenty horse
hastening to the English rendezvous, but who, as
soon as he understood that the Scots were victorious,
joined the party of Douglas in the jnirsuit. Edward
rode on without halting to Linlithgow; and had
scarcely refreshed himself there, when the alarm that
the Scots were approaching, forced him to resume
his flight. Douglas and Abernethy followed so
close upon his route, that many of the king's guards,
who chanced to fall behind their companions, were
slain. This pertinacious chase continued as far as
Tranent, a distance of about forty miles from the
field of battle, and was only given up when the
horses could proceed no further. Edward at length
reached the castle of Dunbar, where he was received
by the Earl of March, and shortly afterwards con-
voyed by a little fishing skiff to Bamborough, in
England.

Thirty thousand of the English are estimated to
have fallen upon the fiekl of Bannockburn. Of
barons and bannerets there were slain twenty-seven,
and twenty-two were taken prisoners; of knights the
number killed was forty-two, while sixty were made
prisoners. Barbour affirms that 200 pairs of gilt
spurs were taken from the heels of slain knights.
According to English historians the most distin-
guished among those who fell were the Earl of
Gloucester, .Sir (iiles d'Argentine, Robert Clifford,
Payen Tybelot, William le .Mareschal, and Edmund
de .NLiuley, seneschal of England. .Seven hundred
esquires are also reckoned among the slain. The
spoil of the English camp was great, and large sums
must have accrued from the ransom of so many noble
prisoners. If we may believe the statement of the
Monk of Malmesbury, a contemporary English
writer, the cost sustained by his countrymen on this
occasion did not amount to less than ;^20o,ooo; a
sum equal in value to upwards of _;/'3, 000,000 of our
present currency. The loss of the Scots is allowed
on all hands to have been very inconsiderable; and
the only persons of note slain were Sir William
Vipont and Sir Walter Ro>s. The last-named was
the particular friend of Edward Bruce, who, when
informed of his death, passionately exclaimed, "Oh
that tliis day's work was undone, so Ross had not
died." On the day after the battle, Mowbray sur-
rendered the castle of Stirling, according to the terms
of the truce, and thenceforward entered into the
service of the King of Scotland.

Such was the victory obtained by Robert at Ban-
nockburn, tlian which none more important was ever
fought, before or since, between tlie so long hostile
nationsof England and Scotland. It lirokc effectually
and for ever the mastery, moral anfl ])hysical, which
the one had so nearly established over the oilier; and,
while it once more confirmed tiie liberties of Scot-
land, restored that passion for independence among
her people which no after reverses couM subthie.
"We have only," as a late historian' has well
observed, "to fix our eyes f)n the present condition of
Irelanrl in order to feel the jircsent reality of all that
we owe to the victory at Bannockburn, and to the
memory of such men as Bruce, Randoljih, and
Douglas."

We have hitherto thought i< proper to enter with
considerable, and even historical, minuteness into

1 Tytlcr, i. p. 320.

the details of this life; both as comprising events of
much interest to the general reader, and as introduc-
ing what may be justly called the first great epoch
in the modern history of Scotland. The rise, pro-
gress, and establishment of Bruce, were intimately
connected with the elevation, progression, and settled
estate of his people, who as they never before had
attained to a national importance so decided and
unquestionable, so they never afterwards fell much
short in the maintaining of it. It is not our intention,
how'ever, to record with equal minuteness the remain-
ing events of King Robert's reign; which, as they,
in a great measure, refer to the ordering and consoli-
dating of the power which he had acquired, the
framing of laws, and negotiating of treaties, fall much
more properly within the province of the historian
to discuss, than that of the biographer.

The Earl of Hereford, who had retreated after the
battle to the castle of Bothwell, was there besieged
and soon brought to surrender. For this prisoner
alone, the wife, sister, and daughter of Bruce were
exchanged by the English, along with Wisheart
Bishop of Glasgow, and the young Earl of Mar.
Edward Bruce and Douglas, leaving the English no
time to recover from their disastrous defeat, almost
immediately invaded the eastern marches, wasted
Northumberland, and laid the bishopric of Durham
under contribution. Proceeding westward, they
burned Appleby and other towns, and returned
home loaded with spoil. "So bereaved," says an
English historian, "were the English, at this time,
of their wonted intrepidity, that a hundred of that
nation would have fled from two or three Scotsmen."
While the fortunes of Edward were in this state of
depression, Bruce made advances towards the nego-
tiating of a peace, but this war, now so ruinous on
the part of the English, was yet far from a termina-
tion. Robert, however desirous he might be to attain
such an object, was incapable of granting unworthy
concessions; and Edward was not yet sufficiently
abased by his ill-fortune in war, or borne down by
factions at home, to yield that which, in his hands,
had become but a nominal possession. England
was again invaded within the year; and, during the
winter, the .Scots continued to infest and threaten
the borders with predatory incursions.

In the spring of the ensuing year, 1315, M'liile the
English king vainly endeavoured to assemble an
army, the .Scots again broke into England, pene-
trated to the bishopric of Durham, and jilundered
the seaport town of Hartlepool. An attempt was
shortly afterwards made to gain possession of Carlisle,
but it was defeated by the vigorous efforts of the in-
habitants. A scheme to carry Berwick by surprise
also failed. This year was remarkable for an act of
the estates settling the succession to the crown; and
the marriage of the king's daughter, Marjory, to
Walter the .Stewart of Scotland, from whom after-
wards descended the royal family of the .Stuarts.

The Irish of Ulster, who had long been discon-
tented with the rule of lingland, now implored the
assistance of the Scottish king, oflering, shoulil they
be relieved, to elect lulward Bruce as their sovereign.
The king closed with their proposals; and his brother,
on the 25th May, 1315, landed at Carrickfcrgus in the
north of Ireland with an army of 6000 men. He
was accompanied in the expedition by the I'larl of
Moray, .Sir Philip Mowbray, .Sir John Soulis, Fergus
f)f Ardrossan, and Ramsay of Ochterhouse. \^'ith
the aid of the Irish chieftains who flocked to his
standard, he committed great ravages on the posses-
sions of the English settlers in the north, and overran
great part of the country. I^dward Bruce met, how-
i ever, with considerable difficulties in the prosecution

ROBERT BRUCE.

213

of his enterprise, and had several times to send for re-
inforcements from Scotland, notwithstanding which
he was solemnly crowned King of Ireland on the 2d
May, 1316. King Kol)ert, hearing of his difficulties,
magnanimously resolved, with what succours he could
afford, to go to the relief of his brother in person.
Intrusting, therefore, the government of the kingdom,
in his absence, to the .Stewart and Douglas, he em-
embarked at Lochryan, in Galloway, and landed at
Carrickfergus. The castle of that place was at the
time besieged by the forces of Edward Bruce, and
was soon brought to surrender after his junction with
his brother. The united armies then entered, by
forced marches, the province of Leinster, with in-
tent to seize upon Dublin, on the fate of which the
existence of the English government in Ireland de-
pended; but the hostile spirit and intrepidity of the
inhabitants of that city rendered this effort abortive.
Thence they marched to Cullen, in Kilkenny, and
continued their devastating progress as far as Limer-
ick; but being there threatened with the greatly
superior forces collected by the English under Roger,
Lord Mortimer, and experiencing great extremities
from want, they were forced to terminate the expedi-
tion by a retreat into the province of Ulster, in the
spring of 13 1 7.

Theparticularhistoryof the two Bruce's campaigns
in Ireland seems to have been imperfectly known,
and is very obscurely treated of by most contem-
porary writers. Barbour, however, to whom the
historians who treat of this period are so much in-
debted, has given the relation with much circumstan-
tiality and apparent correctness. We cannot omit
quoting one exploit, which this author has recorded
in a manner at once lively and characteristical. The
Scottish army, in its march into the province of
Leinster, was marshalled into two divisions, one of
which, the van, was commanded by Edward Bruce;
while the rear was led by Robert in person, assisted
by the Earl of Moray. The Earl of Ulster, on the
alert to oppose their progress, had collected an army
of 40,000 men, which he posted in an extensive
forest through which the Scottish line of march led,
proposing from this concealment, to attack the rear
division of the enemy, after the van should have
passed the defile. Edward, naturally impetuous and
unguarded, hurried onward in his march, neglecting
even the ordinary precautions of keeping up a com-
munication with the rear body, or of reconnoitring
the ground through which he passed. Robert ad-
vanced more slowly and with circumspection, at some
tlistance in the rear, with his division, which amounted
in all to no more that 5000 men. As he approached
the ambushment of the enemy, small parties of
archers appeared from among the thickets, who
began to molest his soldiers in their march. See-
ing their boldness, the king judged rightly that
they mu>t have support at no great distance, and
imnie liatcly he issued strict commands to his men
to march in exact order of battle, and on no pretence
to quit their ranks. It happened that two of these
.archers discharged their arrows near to the person
of Sir Colin (.'ampl)ell, the king's nephew, who,
neglecting the king's injunctions, rode off at full
s])eed to avenge the insult. Robert, highly incensed,
followed after him, and struck his ne])hew so violent
a blow with his truncheon that he was nearly beaten
from his horse. "Such breach of orders," said he,
"might have brought us all into jeopardy. I wot
well, we shall have work to do ere long." The
numbers of the ho>tile archers increased as the .Scots
advanced; till, arriving at a large opening or glade
of the forest, they docried the forces of the Earl of
Ulster drawn up in four divi^ions ready to dispute

their passage. The king's prudent foresight was
justified; and, so much confidence had the soldiers
in his sagacity, that, undaunted either by the sudden
appearance or overwhelming numWrs of the enemy,
they were the first to commence the attack. After
an obstinate resistance the Scots prevailed, and
the ill-assorted Anglo-Irish army was, with much
slaughter, driven from the field. Edward Bruce,
soon after the defeat, rejoined his brother, regretting
bitterly that he should have been absent on such an
emergency. "It was owing to your own folly,"
said the king, "for you ought to have remembered
that the van always should protect the rear."

King Robert, after the retreat of his brother's force
upon Carrickfergus, was necessitated by his own
affairs to return to Scotland. That we may have
no occasion to revert to the subject afterwards, we
shall state briefly in this place the catastrophe which,
in the following year, closed the career of Scottish
sovereignty in Ireland. Eor some time the gallant
but rash Edward maintained a precarious authority
in Ulster. In the month of Octolx;r, 1318, he lay
encamped at Fagher, near Dundalk, with an army
amounting to about 2000 men, exclusive of the native
Irish, who, though numerous, were not much to be
depended on. The Anglo-Irish approached his
position under the command of Lord John Berming-
ham. Their force was strong in cavalry, and out-
numbered the Scots by nearly ten to one. Contrary
to the counsel of his officers, Edward engaged with
the enemy and was slain almost at the first onset; an
event which was speedily followed by the total dis-
comfiture of his army. John Maupas, by whose
hand Edward fell, was found, after the battle,
stretched dead over the body of the prince. Edward
of England, like all kings who are weak and obsti-
nate, could also, when he dared, be wicked. Affect-
ing to consider the gallant enemy who now had
fallen in the light of a traitor or rebellious subject,
the corpse was subjected to the ignominies conse-
quent upon the punishment of such, being quartered
and exposed to view in four different quarters of the
island. The head v.as carried over to England, and
presented to Edward by Bermingham himself, who
obtained the dignity of Earl of Lowth for his services.

During the absence of King Robert in Ireland,
the English made various attempts to disturb the
tranquillity of Scotland, which all happily proved
abortive. The Earl of .Arundel, with a numerous
force, invaded the forest of Jedburgh; but falling
into an ambush prepared for him by Douglas, he
was defeated. Edmund de Cailand, the governor
of Berwick, having made an inroad into Teviotdale,
was attacked by the same victorious commander,
and himself and many of his followers slain. The
same fate befell Rol)ert Neville, a knight, then resi-
dent at Berwick, who had boastingly declared that
he would encounter Douglas so soon as he dared
to display his banner in that neighbourhood. 'I'he
English also invaded .'Scotland with a con>idera!>!e
force by sea, coming to anchor off the town ot Iiivcr-
kcithing in the Firth of Forth. The panic i.ra:-ed
by the unexpected appearance of thi> annaineiit wa-;
great; and only 500 men under the comm.-uid "I the
Earl of Fife, and sheriff of the county, were ii.;>'.e!'jd
to oppose their landing. When tl'.e lMi..;l>h ea>t
anchor, so much terror did tl'.ey ;r.-]'ire. tli.it the
force drawn up again-t them lia>t;ly retre.ited.
They h.ad scarcely, however, tin:- CMniniitied tl;em-
selves, when they were met I'V \\ ;r.;.-.;n .Sinclair,
l')i--.hop of Dunkeid, at the heail i.i" a l;ody ..f >;xty
hor-c. .advancing in all ha-te t') n->i~t in re] eii-.ng
the invaders. "Whillur in ^■.'.ch l;a>te.'' >a;d he
to the disordered rout; "y>:: iie--eive to !-.a\e your

214

ROBERT BRUCE.

gilt spurs hacked off." Putting himself then at the
head of the little troop, and seizing a spear, the
bold e. -lesiastic continued — "Who loves his king,
or his country, turn with me!" The spirit of this
challenge rallied the fugitives; the English, who had
not yet completed their landing, were panic-struck
in turn, and driven back to their ships with great
loss. Five hundred, it is asserted, were killed upon
the strand, and many drowned by the swamping of
an overloaded boat. When King Robert was in-
formed of this gallant exploit, he said, "Sinclair
shall always after be my own bishoji;" and long after
was the prelate honourably remembered by the title
of the kin^s bishop.

Baffled in these attempts, and under serious ap-
prehensions for the safety of his own borders, the
English king contrived, about this time, to employ
in his favour the spiritual weajions of Rome; and
John XXII., the then pope, issued a bull command-
ing a truce for two years between the two hostile
kingdoms, under pain of excommunication. Two
cardinals, privately instructed to denounce the pon-
tifical censures, should they see fit, upon Bruce and
"whomsoever else," were despatchetl to make known
these commands to the two kings. The cardinals
arrived in England, and in prosecution of their
errand sent two messengers, the Bishop of Corbeil
and Master .\umery, into Scotland with the letters
and instructions intended for the Scottish king.
Robert listened to the message delivered by these
nuncios with attention, and heard read the open
letters from the pope; but when those sealed and
addressed "Robert Bruce, governor of Scotland,"
were produced, he firmly declined receiving them.
"Among my barons," said he, "there are many of
the name of Robert Bruce, who share in the govern-
ment of .Scotland. These letters may possibly be
addressed to one of them; but they are not addressed
to me, who am king of Scotland." The messengers
attempted to apologize for tliis omission, by saying
that "the holy church was not wont, during the
dependence of a controversy, to say or do aught
which might prejudice the claims of either contend-
ing party." "Since then," replied the king, "my
spiritual father and my h(jly mother would not pre-
judice the cause of my adversary by bestowing on
me the title of king during the dependence of the
controversy, they ought not to have prejudiced my
cause by withdrawing that title from me. It seems
th-at my parents are partial to their English son.
Had you," added he, with restjlute but calm dignity,
"jire^umed to present letters with such an address
to any other sovereign i)rince, you might perhaps
have been answered more harshly; but I reverence
you as the messengers of the holy see." In conse-
quence of the failure of this negotiation, the cardinals
resolved to proceed witii their further instructions,
and proclaim the ])apal truce in Scotland. In an
enterprise so hazardous, the Roman legates were at
some loss how to proceed; but at length they fell
upon a devoted monk of the name of Adam Newton,
who was willing to ri>k himself in the service.
Newton being fully charged witii his commission,
and intrusted with letters to sfime of the .Sccjttish
clergy, proceeded forthwith iii)on his j(juriicy. He
found the .Scottish king encamped with ills army in
a w(}od near Old Camlnis, busily engaged in making
preparations for the assault of I'erwick. He was
denied admission to the royal ]iresence, but <inicred, at
the same time, to deliver what letters or messages he
might have to the king's seneschal or clerk. These
were quickly returned to him, unopened, with the
brief verbal answer, "I will listen to no hulls uiUil
I am treated as King of Scotland, and have made

myself master of Berwick." The poor monk, en-
vironed, as he himself expresses it, with danger, and
troubled how to preserve his papers and his own
mortal life, entreated that he might have a safe-con-
duct to pass further into Scotland, or at least that
he might return without peril to Berwick; but both
requests were denied him, and he was ordered to
leave the country without delay. On his road to
Berwick he was encountered by four armed ruffians,
who stripped him of all his papers and effects, and
even of the greater part of his clothes. Thus ended
this memorable transaction with the papal court, in
a manner very unusual for that age; but the weak-
ness and injustice of Edward, and the injustice and
serviliiy of Rome, were so obvious in it, that Robert,
secure otherwise in the affections of his subjects,
both clerical and laical, could safely deride and defy
the effects of both.

While Robert, for some reason or other which
has not been explained, had given over his prepara-
tions for the siege of Berwick, the treachery of one
of the inhabitants, of the name of Spalding, who
had been harshly treated by the governor, occurred
to render the attainment of his object both easy and
sure. This person wrote a letter to the Earl of
March, to whom he was distantly connected by
marriage, offering to betray, on a certain night, that
post on the wall where he kept guard. The noble-
man, not daring of himself to engage in such an
enterprise, communicated the intelligence to the
king. "You have done well," said Robert, "in
making me your confident; for, if you had told this
to either Randolph or Douglas, you would have
offended the one whom you did not trust. You
shall now, however, have the aid of both." By the
king's directions, the Earl of March assembled his
troops at a certain place, where, on an appointed
day and hour, he was joined by the forces of Ran-
dolph and Douglas. Thus cautiously assembled,
the army by a night march approached the town.
Having reached the appointed part of the walls, near
to that place still known by the name of the Cow-
port, they, with the assistance of .Spalding, scaled
the walls, and were, in a few hours, masters of the
town. The castle, after a brief siege, in which the
king assisted in person, was forced to surrender.
Scotland, by this event, was at length wholly re-
gained to its ancient sovereignty; and, though the
town was in an after reign retaken by the English,
so pertinaciously was the old right to it maintained
at the union of the two kingdoms, that, as a com-
promise, it was legislatively allowed to belong to
neither kingdom, and it still forms a distinct and in-
dependent portion of the British dominions.

The Scottish ar;ny, after the reduction of Berwick,
invaded England by Northumberland; took by siege
the castles of Werk and llarbolth, and that of Mit-
ford by surprise. These events occurred in the
spring of 1318. In May of the same year, the Scots
penetrated into Yorksliirc, burned the towns of
Northallerton, Boroughbridge, Scarborough, and
.Skipton, and returned home loaded with sj^oil, and,
saysan l'"nglish author, "driving theirprisoners before
them like flocks of sheep." Bruce was at this time
solemnly, excommunicated by the j)ope's legate in
England; but so little was this sentence regarded,
that, in a parliament which was assembled at .Scone,
the whole clergy and laity of the kingdom renewed
their allegiance to the king; and by a memorable
mode of expression, by which, doubtless, they meant
to include the pope as well as the King of England,
solemnly engaged to protect the rights and liberties
of Scotland against all mortals, hcm'r.'t'r criiiiuiit tli:y
may be m /'cncer, authorily, and dignity.

ROBERT BRUCE.

215

By a temporary reconciliation of the factions of
his kingdom, Kdward was enabled, in the succeeding
year, to attempt the recapture of Berwick. The
place had been left by Robert under the command
of the Stewart, with a strong garrison, and was
plentifully stored with provisions. To prevent the
approach of succours, the English drew lines of
countervallation round it; and confident in their
numbers, commenced a general and vigorous assault.
.After a long and desperate contest they were re-
pulseil. They next made their attacks more syste-
matically on various places, and often simultaneously,
aided by engines and contrivances which are curiously
and minutely described by ancient historians; but
these attempts, admirably conducted as they were,
according to the engineering science of that day,
provetl abortive. One of those engines used by the
English was called a s<ru>. As nearly as can be
ascertained, it was a huge fabric, reaching in height
above tiie top of the wall, and composed of beams
of timber, well roofed, having stages within it. It
moved upon wheels, and was calculated for the
double purpose of conducting miners to the foot of
the wall, and armed men for scaling it. To oppose
this and other such machines, the Scots, under the
direction of one John Crab, a Fleming, had provided
themselves with movable engines called cranes,
similar to the catapults of the ancients, capable of
throwing large stones with great projectile force.
.\s the sow advanced, however, the besieged were
dismayed. The engineer by whom the monstrous
edit'icc had been constructed had, meantime, be-
come a prisoner to the Scots, who, actuated by
a very unju»t revenge upon the man's ingenuity
and their own fears, brouglit him to that part of
the wall against which tlie engine was directed,
threatening him with instant death should he be
slack in its destruction. Thus prompted, he
caused one of the cranes formerly mentioned to be
placed directly opposite the a]iproaching machine,
and prepared to work it wiili all his art. The first
stone, launched with prodigious force, flew beyond
the object aimed at; the second, discharged with
diminished power, fell within the mark. Tiiere was
time only for a third trial, upon the success of which
all seemed to depend, as the engine was coming
close to the walls. The third great stone passed in
an oblique and nearly perpendicular line, high into
the air, making a loud whizzing noise as it rose, and
whether owing to chance or art, it fell with a dread-
ful crash upon the devoted machine now so nearly
within reach of its destination. The terrified men
within instantly rushed from beneath their cover;
ami the besieged upon the walls, raising a loud shout,
called out to them, "that their great sow had far-
rowed." Grappling irons were quickly fastened
u]>on the shattered apparatus, and it was set on fire.
While all this was transacting upon the land side of
Berwick, its worn-out garrison had to sustain an
.assault no loss desperate from the estuary, where,
by means of vosels having falling-bridges mid-m.ast
high, by which to reach the top of tiie walls, the
city was vigoruusly and almost successfully stormed.
These antl various other desperate attempts seemed
in no way to exhau-,t the ardour of the besiegers; and
tiiey did not les-en, though they tempered, the con-
fidence of the he-.ieged.

King Roliert, unable from the strength and fortified
p<>sition of the laiglish army, to break u]) the siege,
at the same time saw that if the Stewart were
not rclieve<l he must soon surrender. In this
emergency he res.ilved, by a destructive invasion of
England, to make a diversion in his favmir, and if
possible draw oil the forces of Edward. This expedi-

tion was committed to the charge of Randolph and
Douglas, who, entering England by the western
marches, penetrated into Yorkshire. It is asserted,
that they entertained some scheme of carrying off the
wife of Edward from her residence near York. Dis-
appointed in this, they wasted that rich province
with fire and sword. The archbishop hastily col-
lected a numerous but ill-assorted army, great part
of which is said to have been composed of ecclesi-
astics, and ])lacing himself at their head, determined
to check the invaders. The Scots then lay encamped
at Mitton near l^oroughbridge, in the north riding
of Yorkshire. The English, on coming up with
that hardy, disciplined, and successful army, were
charged with such fury, that, scarcely waiting to
strike a blow, they gave way, and three thousand
are reported to have been slain in the rout. From
the number of churchmen who fell in this battle, it
was afterwards popularly named l/ie Clutj-tcr of
Mittoii. The effects which Bruce expected from this
invasion of England were not miscalculated. The
news of the devastations and successes of the Scots
no sooner reached Berwick, than a retreat was re-
solved upon, and it would seem judiciously, as, had
the now unopposed career of the Scots continued
many days longer, the damage to England must have
been immeasurably great. On retiring from before
Berwick, Edward attempted, unsuccessfully, to in-
tercept Douglas and Randolph on their return. After
some brief negotiations, a truce of two years was con-
cluded between the two nations.

The following year {1320) was remarkable for a
bold and spirited manifesto from the estates of Scot-
land to the pope. His holiness is told, in one part
of this singular document, that Robert, "like another
Joshua, or a Judas Maccabeus, gladly endured toils,
distresses, the extremities of want, and every peril,
to rescue his people and inheritance out of the hands
of the enemy. Our due and unanimous consent,"
say they, "has made him our chief and king. To
him in defence of our liberty we are bound to adhere,
.as well of right as by reason of his deserts, and to
him we will in all things adhere; for through him
salvation has been wrought unto our people. Should
he abandon our cause, or aim at reducing us and our
kingdom under the dominion of the English, we will
instantly strive to expel him as a public enemy, and
the subverter of our rights and his own, and we will
choose another king to nde and protect us; for.
while there exist an hundred of us, we will never
submit to England. We fight not for glory, wealth,
or honour, but for that liberty which no virtuous
man will survive."' After descrilMng with much
animation the English king's ambition and injustice,
and praying the interjiosition of his holiness, the
manifesto proceeds: — "Should you, however, give
a too credulous ear to the reports of our enemies, dis-
trust the smcerity of our professions, and persist in
favouring the English, to our destruction, we hold
you guilty in the sight of the most high (iod. of the
loss of lives, the perdition of souls, ami nil the other
miserable consequences which may ensue ix^nw war
between the two contending nations." The pi'pe,
however much he may have been incensed at th:s
boldness, ap;iears also to have been al;irn'.ea. In a
bull which he shortly afterward- sent to IMv.ard. he
strongly recommends pacific niea-ure-. ar.'l Ixstows
u]ion Bruce the ambiguous title ol " Kcgciit ol the
kingdom of Scotland."

The parliament which I'.i-tingui-lK-'l it-elf by this
spirited and honouraMe nua-;'.ic wa-. in the course
of its sitting, engaged in one of a more unp'iea-ing
character. Tlii- wa- the invc-ngation of a con-piracy
in which some of the li;g!iesl men :n tl'.e k:ngdom

2l6

ROBERT BRUCE.

were implicated. The afTair is now, from the loss
of records, but indistinctly understood. After a trial
of the conspirators, Soulis and the Countess of
Strathem were condemned to perpetual imprison-
ment. Gilbert de Malerb and John de Logic, both
knights, and Richard Brown, an esquire, were found
guilty of treason, and suffered accordingly. Roger
de Mowbray died before sentence; yet, according to
a practice long retained in Scottish law in cases of
treason, judgment was pronounced upon the dead
body. The king, however, was pleaseil to mitigate
this rigour, and the corpse was allowed the honours of
sepulture. The fate of David de Brechin, the king's
nephew, who suffered on this occasion, excited uni-
versal and deep compassion. His crime alone lay in
the concealing of the treason, which was communi-
cated to him under an oath of secrecy. He had
neither approved of nor participated in it; yet not-
withstanding these alleviations, and his near relation-
ship to the king, he was made an example of rigorous
though impartial justice. This parliament was, in
reference to this transaction, long remembered popu-
larly under the appellation o{ t/w black parliainciil.

During the inactive period of the truce, various
methods were used towards effecting a peace between
England and Scotland, but without effect. The pope
as well as the French king offered their services for
this purpose; but the exultation of Edward, from
having successfully cmshed the Lancasterian faction
which had so long disturbed his rule, made him deaf
to moderate counsels. "Give yourself," says he to
the pope, "no further solicitude about a truce with
the Scots. The exigencies of my affairs inclined me
formerly to listen to such proposals; but now I am
resolved to establish peace by force of arms." While
he was engaged in these preparations, the Scots
penetrated by the western marches into Lancashire,
committing their wonted devastations, and returned
home loaded with spoil. The King of .Scots, who
at this time found no occasion for a general engage-
ment with his greatly superior enemy, fell upon a
simple and effectual expedient to render such an
event unlikely, if not impossible. All the cattle and
provisions of the.Merse, Teviotdale, and the Lothians,
he ordered to be removed into inaccessible or secure
places; an order which was so exactly executed, that,
according to tradition, the only prey which fell into
the hands of the luiglish was one solitary bull at
Tranent, which, from lameness, had been unable to
travel along with the other cattle. "Is that all ye
have g<jt?" said the Earl Warenne to the spoilers as
they returned to the camp; "I never saw so dear
a beast." Edward advanced without opposition to
the neighl)ourhood of Edinljurgh, where, having in
vain waited for some time for sui)i)lics from his fleet,
he was necessitated, from absoluie famine, to retire.
In their countermarch into England, the soldiers
committed whatever outrages were possible in so
desolate a route. Their license even got the better
of their superstition. Monks, who l)elieved that the
sanctity of their character would have ])rotected
them, were wantonly murdered, and their monasteries
and abbeys plundered and burned. When this un-
fortunate army got once mcjre into the ])lenty of their
own country, it was little better with them; for, in
proportion as their privations had been extreme,
their indulgences were excessive; and an I'jiglish
historian has left it on record, that almo-,1 one-half
of the great army whicli lldward had Icil into
Scotland was destroyed either by hunger or intemper-
ance.

The remains of the English army had scarcely once
more been restored to order, when the .Scots, who had
followed closely upon their rear, entered England,

and laid siege to the castle of Norham. Edward
himself then lay at the abbey of Biland in York-
shire, the main body of his troops being encamped
in a strong position in the neighbourhood, supposed
to be accessible only by one narrow pass. The Scots,
commanded by Robert in person, suddenly raising
the siege, marched onward in the hope of finding
the English unprepared, or, as some say, of seizing
the person of Edward, by the aid of some of that
monarch's treacherous attendants. This latter design,
if at all entertained, which is not improbable, must
have been found too difficult to execute. Douglas
resolved to force the defde within which the English
had entrenched themselves; and Randolph, leaving
his own peculiar command in the army, determined
to join his friend in the enterprise. The defence
was obstinate; and the men of Douglas must have
been obliged to retire, had not an unexpected aid
come to their relief. The King of Scots, who
commanded the main body of his army on the
]:)lain, perceiving the difficulty, if not impractica-
bility, of the adventure of his two brave generals, fell
upon the only means of extrication and success.
Between the two armies lay a long craggy hill of
very difficult access, except through the narrow pass
of which we have made mention, and which the
body of men under Douglas were vainly endeavour-
ing to force. A party of Highlanders from Argyle
and the Isles, admirably suited for the service, were
ordered, at some little distance, to scale the emi-
nences, and so gain command of the pass from the
ground above, where they might, with signal effect,
annoy the English underneath and in flank. The
manaiuvre was successfully executed, the pass
carried, and the whole English army shortly after
put to complete rout. They were pursued by the
Stewart to the gates of York, and Edward himself
escaped to the same place with the greatest difficulty,
abandoning all his baggage and treasure, and leaving
behind him even the privy seal of his kingdom. This
was the last battle in which this undeserving and
equally unfortunate prince engaged the Scots; and it
may be curious to remark how, in its result, it bore
some resemblance to the disaster and shame of the
first. The Scots, after committing extensive devas-
tations on the unjirotected and dispirited country,
returned home, carrying along with them many
prisoners and an immense booty.

From this period to the accession of Edward III.
to the throne of England in 1327, there occurred
little which can properly come within our province
to relate. A truce for fifteen years was with much
willingness acceded to by the English king, who
could never, however, be induced to relinquish his
claim of sovereignty over Scotland. The pope was
much jiressed, jjarticularly in an embassy conducted
by Randolph, to permit the reconciliation of Robert
with the church; but the King of Scots, as yet, pos-
sessed too little interest in that venal court to obtain
such a concession. The pontiff, however, showed
all the favour he could, consistent with such a denial;
and though pressed by Edward, under various pre-
tences, to renew the jiublication of his former
censures, would by no means comply. The King of
France was more honourable and just, though pr(j-
bably, at the same time, politic, and concluded, in
1326, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive,
with Scotland.

(_)n the accession of Edward 111. hostilities
almost immediately re-commenced between the two
kingdoms. That these originated on the side of the
Scfits seems generally allowed; but the motives
wliicli led to them are now only matter of conjecture.
One historian assigns as the cause, that the Scots

ROBERT BRUCE

REV. ROBERT BRUCE.

217

had detected the jjeneral bad faith of the English.
According to Barbour, tlie ships of that nation had
seized upon several Scottish ships bound for the Low
Countries, slain the mariners, and refused to give
satisfaction. That the King of Scotland during the
then weak state of the counsels of England, had
iletermincd to insist upon the full recognition of his
title, seems to have been, from the decisiveness of
his preparations, the true, or more important, motive
of the war. The campaign which followed, though,
perhaps, as curious and interesting as any which
occurred during these long wars, cannot be entered
upon in this place, at length sufficient to render it
instructive; and it mucli more properly falls to be
described in the lives of those two great generals,
Randolph and Douglas, by whom it was conducted.
The enterprise, on the part of England, was pro-
ductive of enormous expense to that kingdom; and
it terminated not only without advantage, but with-
out honour. The so long desired jieace between the
two kingdoms was now near at hand. To attain this
had been the grand and constant aim of all King
Robert's policy; and the court of England seemed
at length persuaded of the immediate necessity of the
measure. A negotiation was therefore entered into,
and brought to a happy issue in a parliament held
at Northampton in April, 1328. Tiie i)rincipal
articles were the recognition of King Robert's titles;
the independent sovereignty of the kingdom; and
the marriage of Johanna, King Edward's sister, to
David, the son and heir of the King of Sc<^ts.

Robert survived not long this consummation of his
political life. He had for some time laboured under
an inveterate distemiier, in those clays called a leprosy;
a consecpience of the fatigues, hardships, and suffer-
ings which, to such an unparalleled degree, he had
endured in the early part of his career. It was pro-
bably the same disease as that with which he was
atHicted prior to the battle of Inverury; but though,
at that time, the ardour of youth and enterprise, and
a naturally powerful constitution, had triumphed over
its malignity, Robert seemed now fully aware that
it must prove mortal. The two last years of his life
were spent in comparative seclusion, in a castle at
Cardross, situated on the northern shore of the Firth
of Clyde; where, from documents still extant, Robert
passed these few peaceful, though embittered days
of his life, in a style of munificence everyway be-
coming his higii station. Much of his time was
devoted to the construction of ships; and whether
he himself joined personally in such amusements or
not, the expense of aquatic and fishing excursions,
hawking, and other sports, appears to have formed
a considerable item of his domestic disbursements.
From the same authentic source it is pleasing to
observe that his charities to the poor were regular
and befitting.

Robert the First of Scotland died in this retirement,
on the 7th ilay of June, 1329, in the fifty-fifth year
of his age and twenty-third year of his reign. Prior
to this event a remarkable and affecting scene is
recorded to have taken place l)etween the dving
monarch and ^everal of his esteemed counsellors
and ci)inpaiii')n> inarms. Having spoke to these,
generally, ujjon matters coimected with the ordering
aiul well-being of his kingdom, Robert called Sir
James Douglas ti) his couch, and addressed him in
somewhat the following manner: — -"Sir James, my
dear and gallant friend, vnu know well the many
troubles and severe hard>hips I have undergone in
recovering and defending the rights of my crown and
people, for yon have siiared in them all. When
I was hardest beset of all, I made a vow, that if I
ever overcame mv dittkulties, I would assume the

cross, and devote the remainder of my days to
warring against the enemies of our Lord and .Saviour.
But it has pleased Providence, by this heavy malady,
to take from me all hope of accomplishing what, in
my heart and soul, I have earnestly desired. There-
fore, my dear and faithful com[)anion, knowing no
knight more valiant, or i)etter fitted than yourself for
such a ser\ice, my earnest desire is, that when I am
dead, you take my heart with you to Jerusalem, and
deposit it in the holy sepulchre, that my soul may be
so acquitted from the vow which my body is unable
to fulfil." All present shed tears at this discourse.
"My gallant and noble king," said Douglas, "1 have
greatly to thank you for the many and large bounties
which you have bestowed upon me; but chiefly, and
above all, I am thankful, that you consider me
worthy to be intrusted with this precious charge of
your heart, which has ever been full of prowess and
goodness; and I shall most loyally perform this last
service, if (jod grant me life and power." The king
tenderly thanked him for his love and fidelity, saying,
"I shall now die in peace." Immediately after
Robert's decease, his heart was taken out, as he had
enjoined, and the body deposited under a rich marblc
monument, in the choir of the Abbey church of
Dunfermline.

So died that heroic, and no less patriotic monarch,
to whom the people of .Scotland, in succeeding ages,
have looked back with a degree of national pride
and affection, which it has been the lot of few men
in any age or country to inspire. From a state of
profligate degeneracy and lawless barbarity, origi-
nating in, and aggravated by, a foreign dominion
and oppression, he raised the poor kingdom of Scot-
land to a greater degree of power and security than
it had ever before attained; and by a wise system of
laws and regulations, forming, in fact, the constitu-
tion of the popular rights and liberties, secured to
posterity the benefit of all the great blessings which
his arms and policy had achieved.

BRUCE, RoiiERT, an eminent divine of the six-
teenth century, a collateral relation of the sovereign
who bore the same name, and ancestor, at the sixth
remove, of the illustrious Abyssinian traveller, was
bom about the year 1554, being the second son of
.Sir Alexander Bruce of Airlh in ."Stirlingshire, by
Janet, daughter of Alexander, fifth Lord Livingston,
and Agnes, daughter of the second Earl of Morton.
We learn from Birrel's dian.-, a curious chronicle of
the sixteenth century, that Sir Alexander, the fatb.er
of this jiious divine, was one of those powerlul
Scottish barons who used to be always attended by
a retinue of armed servants, and did not scruple.
even in the streets of the capital, to attack any
equally powerful baron with whom they were at
feud, and whom they might chance to meet. Birrel
tells us, for instance, that on "the 24tii of Xovem-
ber, 1567, at two in the afternoon, the laird of Airth;
and the laird of Weeims [ancestor of the Farl ol
Wemyss] mett upon the heigh gait of L'Iir;l)ur_;liL-
[the High Street], and they and tliair folI-Avers
faught a T'tvvi' bloiidy skirvusJi, wher iIkt \\e~ n;a"c_v
hurte on both sydes by shote of ]v;>tole." Tl^c iVahi r
of the subiect of this memoir was <le.-ce:i''.L'i \X"V,\ a
cadet of the IJruces of Clackmannan. w'W'k in the
reign of James I. of Scotland. !:ad niririiL-: t!.L- ulit.-:
daughter of William de Airthc. ar.'i >-.:cccL'.icd to
the inheritance. The Bruces ol ('_\:x^^y::::V.v.~.\\. ironi
whom, we believe, all tlie I'.rucc- "i >":ri;:\L;>hire.
Clackmannanshire, Kinro,-s, cV^'. ' ir.c.u ;;Kg ilic L.irl
of Elgin), are descended, sprur.g :';•■ r.i a yoi::,ger >o!i
of Ro'.iert de I'.rr.Cv, the coinjijti-,' r u;-.!i \;:<:.'.'\ f.r
the Scotti>h tr.ror.e, a::d ti'.v'.c'.vie \\:.-~.\^ to Kii'.g

REV. ROBERT BRUCE.

Robert. The reader may perhaps remember the
proud saying of the last lady of Clackmannan, who,
on being complimented by Robert Burns as belong-
ing to the fomily of the Scottish hero, informed the
poet, that King Robert belonged to her family: it
will be seen from our present statement that the old
lady made a slight mistake.

While the eldest son of Sir Alexander Bruce was
designei.1 to inherit the property of Airth, a compara-
tively small appanage, consisting of the lands of
Kinnaird, was appropriated to Robert; but to eke
out his iirovislon for life, he was devoted, like many
other cadets of Scottish families, to the profession of
the law. With a view to cjualify him for the bar he
was sent to Paris, where he studied tiie principles
of Ronian jurisprudence under the most approved
masters. Afterwards returning to his native country,
he completed his studies at Edinburgh, and began
to conduct his father's business before the Court of
.Session. That court was then, like the other parts
of government, corrupt and disordered; tiie judges
were court partisans; and justice was too often dis-
jiensed upon the principles of an auction. Young
Bruce, whose mind was already tinctured with an
ardent sentiment of religion, slirunk ajiiialled from a
course of life which involved such moral enormities,
and, without regarding the prospect of speedily
becoming a judge, which his father, according to the
iniquitous ]iractice of the time, had secured for him
bv patent! he iletermined on tlevoting himself to the
church. His parents, to whom the moral status of
a clergyman in those days was as notliing compared
with the nominal rank of a judge, combated this re-
solution by all the means in their ]->o\ver, nf)t except-
ing the threatened withdrawal of his inheritance.
But Bruce, who felt what he considered a spiritual
call towards his new j^rofession, resigned his pre-
tensions to tlie estate without a sigh, and, throwing
off the embroidered scarlet dress which he had worn
as a courtier, exchanged his residence at Edinburgh
for the academical solitude of St. Andrews, where
he conimenced the study of theology.

At this period .\ndrew Melville, the divinity pro-
fessor of St. .\ndrews, was undergoing banishment
on account of his opposition to the court; but l^eing
permitted to resume his duties in 1586, Bruce enjoyed
the advantage of his prelections for the ensuing
winter, and appears to have become deeply imbued
with his peculiar s]>irit. In the summer of 1 587 he
was brought to Ivliuburgli by Melville, and re-
commended to the (ieneral -Vssembly as a fit suc-
cessor Id the deceased .Mr. Lawson, who, in his turn,
ha'l been the successor of Knox. Tills charge, how-
ever, I'rucc scrupled to undertake, lest he should
be found unfit for its im])ortant duties; he would
only consent to jireach till the next synod, by way
of trying his abilities. It appears th.at he filled the
pulpit for some months, though not an ordained
clergyman; whicli certainly conveys a strange im-
pression of the rules i;f the churcii at that i)erio<i.
lie was even ))eriuaded, on an emergency, to under-
take the ta^k of <li>p(.-n>ing the comnuuiion — wliich
must be acknowledged as a still more remarkalile
breach of eccle-ia^tical rule. He was soon alter
called by the unanimou-, voice of the jjeojde to be-
come their ])astr)r; but partly perha])s froiu a con-
scientious aversion to ordination, and partly fioni a
respect to his former exertions, he would never sub-
mit to any ceremonial, such as is considered neces-
sary bv all C"hri>tian churches in giving conmii^sion
to a new member. He judged the call of the i)e()])le
anrl the ap[irobation of the ministry to be sulficient
warrant for his undertaking this sacred profe>sion.

So rapidly did the reputation of Bruce advance

among his brethren, that, in six months after this
j^eriod, at an extraordinary meeting of the General
Assembly, which was called to consider the means
of defence against the Spanish Armada, he was
chosen moderator. A charge was preferred to this
court against a preacher named Gibson, who had
uttered disrespectful language in his pulpit regarding
King James. The accused party was charged to
ajipear, and, failing to do so, was suspended for con-
tumacy. There can be no doubt that the church was
most reluctant to proceed to such an extremity with
one of its members on a court charge; and its readi-
ness to do so can only be accounted for, as necessi-
tated in some measure, by the avowed constitution
of the church itself, which repeatedly set forth that
it did not claim an exemption for its members from
ordinary law, but only desired that an impeached
individual should first be tried by his brethren.
.'Vccordingly we find the conscience of the moderator
immediately accusing him in a strange way for having
yielded a brother to lay vengeance; for, on that night,
he thought he heard a voice saying to him, in the
Latin language, "Why hast thou been present at
the condemnation of my servant ?" When the
destniction of the Spanish Armada was known in
Scotland, ]3ruce preached two thanksgiving sermons,
which were published in 1 591, and display a strength
of sentiinent and language fully sufficient to vindicate
the contemporary reputation of the author to pos-
terity.

Master Robert Bruce,* as he was styled in com-
pliance with the common fashion of the time, figured
conspicuously in the turbulent proceedings which, for
some years after this period, characterized the eccle-
siastical history of Scotland. By King James he
seems to have been regarded with a mixture of re-
spect, jealousy, and fear, the result of his powerful
abilities, his uncompromising hostility to undue regal
power, and the freedom with which he censured the
follies and vices of the court. It was by no means
in contradiction to these feelings that, when James
sailed for Denmark in 1589 to bring home his queen,
he raised Master Robert to the privy council, and
invested him with a non-commissioned power of
supervision over the behaviour of the people during
his absence; telling him, at the same time, that he had
more confidence in him and the other ministers of
Edinburgh, than in the whole of his nobles. The
king knew well enough that if he did not secure the
exertions of the clergy on the side of the government
iluring his absence tliey would certainly act against
it. As might have been expected from the iniluence
of the clergy, the usual disorders of the realm
ceased entirely during the sujiremacy of this system
of theocracy; and the chief hoiunir of course fell upon
Bruce. The turbulent Earl of Bothwell, who was
the nominal head of the government, projiosed,
during James's absence, to make a ])ublic repentance
for a life of juvenile ])rolligacy. The strange scene,
which exhiluted the fir.4 man in the kingdom humbled
for sin befijre an ordinary Cluislian cf)ngregation,
took place on the 9th of Novend)er in the High
C'luirch. On this occasion Bruce jireached a sermon
from 2 Ti. ii. 22 26, which was printed among
others in 1591, and abouiuls in good sense, and in
]iointed and elegant language. When the sermon
was ended the Earl of Bothwell iqion his knees con-
fessed his dissolute and licenli<nis life, and with tears
in his eyes uttered the following words — "I wald to
(iod, that I might mak sic a repentance as mine

1 'Ihr: affix Mast,-r appi^ars to have been first usetl in
Srotlaiul as ij.irt (if tlic stylo of the clerj^y. 'ri'.rmi:.^Iii)iit the
whole of the seventeenth century it is not observed to have
I ecn ai plied to any other class of men.

REV. ROBERT BruCE.

219

heart craveth; and I desire you all to pray for it."
But it was the reijcntance of Esau, and soon effaced
by {greater enormities.

On tlic return of King James with his queen, in
May, 1590, Bruce received the cordial thanks of his
majesty for iiis zeal in composing differences during
his absence, and his care in tutoring the people to
behave decently before the queen and her Danisii
attendants. He was also honoured with the duty of
placing ti)e cnnvn upon the queen's head at her cor-
onation; which was considered a great triumph on
the part of the Presbyterian churcii over the titu-
lar bishops. In the ensuing June Bnice was him-
self married to Margaret, daughter of Douglas of
Farkhead, a considerable baron, who some years
after rendered himself conspicuous by slaying James
Stuart, Earl of .\rran, wlio had been the favourite
of King James, and the arch-enemy of tlie Presby-
terian polity. The parents of Bruce appear to have
been now reconciled to him, for, on the occasion of
his marriage, they gave him back his inheritance of
Kinnaird.

The Protestant Church of Scotland had been so
highly exasj^erated against the Cath<jlics at the Re-
formation, and was now so imminently threatened
by them, that its conduct in regard to that body at
this period hears very much the aspect of persecu-
tion. Tliree Catholic earls, Iluntly, Angus.and Errol,
had entered into the views which Spain for some
years entertained against both divisions of Britain;
and they were now justly lialile to the extreme
vengeance of their sovereign for treason. James,
however, never could be brought to put the laws fully
in force against them, from a fear lest the Catholic
party in general might thereby be jirovoked to oppose
his succession to Elizabeth. The backwardness of
James, and the forwardness of the clergy, in this
cause, naturally brought them into violent collision,
and as Bruce, next to Melville, was now the leader
of the clergy, he became exceedingly odious to his
sovereign. The following anecdote, related by an
Episco|)alian pamphleteer of a succeeding age, will
illustrate their relative positions better than anything
else. "It is to this day remembered," says Maxwell,
Bishop of Ross, in The Burden of Issachar, printed
1646, "that when Master Robert Bnice came from
his visitation in the east, returning to Edinburgh,
an;l entering by the Canongate, King James, look-
ing out at his window in the palace of Ilolyrood
House, with indignation (which extorted from him
an oath), said, '.Master Robert Bruce, I am sure,
intends to be king, and declare himself heir to King
Robert de Bruce.' .\t another time, wishing to recall
the three banislied lords, Angus, Iluntly, and Errol,
James attempted to gain the consent of Master
Robert, who possessed more power in Edinburgh,
through his command of consciences, than the
sovereign himself. Being ushered into the king's
bed-chamber, James opened unto him his views uiion
the Eiigli>h crown, and his fears lest the Papists in
Scotland, of whom these lords were the chief, should
contrive t>> join wi'Ii their brethren in England, and
raise obstacles to his succession. He continued,
'Do you not think it fit, Master Robert, that I give
them a pardon, re>t<M-e them to their honour and lands,
and by doing >o gain them, that thus I may save the
effusion of Cliri>tian blood?' To this demand, so
piously made, the an>wer was, 'Sir, you may pardon
.\ngus and I\rrol. .md recall them; but it is not fit,
nor will you ever o'litain my con>ent, to pardon or
recall Iluntly." To tliis the mo.>t gracious king
sweetly replied, 'Ma>tcr Rot)ert, it were belter for
me to pardon and recall him without the other two,
than the other twj witlvjut him: f!r>t, because you

know he haih a greater commanti, and is more
powerful than ihe other two; secondly, you know I
am more assured of his affection to me, for he hath
married my near and dear kinswoman the Duke of
Eennox his sister.' His rcj.jinder was, 'Sir, I tan-
not agree to it.' The king desiring him to consider
it, dismissed him; but when sent U,x once more, Mr.
Robert still continued inexorable: '1 agree with all
my heart,' said he, 'that you recall Angu> and Errol;
but for Iluntly it cannot be.' The king resumed,
and repeated his reasons before mentioned, and
added some more; but he ob:,tinately opposed and
contradicted it. . . . King James desired his
reasons; he gave none, but s])oke majestically. Then
the king told him downright, 'Master Kolx;rt, I have
told you my purpose; you see how nearly it concerneth
me; I have given you my reasons for my res<dulions;
you give me your opinion, but you strengthen it net
with reasons. Therefore, I will hold my resolution,
and do as I first spoke to you.' To which, with
Christian and subject-like reverence, Bruce returned
this reply, 'Well, sir, you may do as you li>t; but
choose you, you shall not have me and the Earl of
Huntly both for you.'" Though this tale is told by
an enemy, it bears too many characteristic marks to
be altogether false; and certainly it presents a most
expressive picture of the comparative importance of
the leader of the .Scottish church and the leader of
the Scottish state. Maxwell insinuates interested
and unworthy motives for Bruce's conduct on this
occasion; but the whole tenor of the man's life dis-
proves their reality. There can be no iloubt that
he was actuated solely by a fear for the effect which
Huntly's great territorial influence might have upon
the .Scottish church. To show that his conduct on
this occasion was by no means of an uncommon
kind, we may relate another anecdote. On the 6th
of June, 1592, the king came to the Little Kirk, to
hear Bruce's sermon. In his discourse Bruce moveil
the question, "What could the great disobedience
of the land mean now, while the king was present .■"
seeing some reverence was borne to his shadow while-
absent." To this he himself answered, that it was
the iDiii-crsal contentpt of liis subjtcls. He, therefore,
exhorted the king "to call to God, before he either
ate or drank, that the Lord would give him a re>olu-
tion to execute justice on malefactors, although it
should be with the hazard of his life: which, if he
would enterprise courageously, the Lord would raise
enough to assist, and all his impediments would
vanish away. Otherwi.-e," said he, in conclusion,
"you will not be suffered to enjoy your crown alone,
but iiery man will have one." When we find the
king obliged to submit to such rebukes as this before
his subjects, can we woniler at his finding it a diffi-
cult task to exact obedience from thu:5e iubjects
either to himself or the laws?

The extraordinary power of the Scottish church
came at length to a period. During a violent con-
tention between the church and court in 1506. ;h ■
partisans of the former were betrayed by t!ie:r /e.i
into a kind of riot, which was con>lrued by !he king
into an attack upon his person. The r«c::"ii > ^^::-
sionetl by this event, and the increa-ed \ ow^r \vh:cli
he now ]if)ssessed in virtue of his ner.r .1; j ro.uh to
'the English throne, enabled him t" ta!;e Ir.l! advai.-
t.Tge of their imprudence in inipo~;n,g cert.v.n restric-
tions upon the church of an lipi-coj.il tendeiuy.
Bruce, \\ho preached the sermon uhiLii ; receiicd tl.e
riot, found it nece— ary. tli. r,^!i t-.' t .iheiwi-e c r-
cerned. ti) llee to E.ngl.ind. lie '!:d r.-t j r vure ; er-
mi.-sion to rciurn f 'rxar.e nioi.il;-. an 1 even tlien l.c
was not allowed to rr~r.ine h;> l-,;n.et;or.> r.s a i^.-ri-!!
niiniriter. Eur ^ur.ie time I'.e >. f:;ci:-ted priva'.e.y lu

REV. ROBERT BRUCE.

the houses of his friends. Nor was it till after a long
course of disagreeable contentions with the court that
he was received back into one of the parochial pulpits
of Edinburgh.

This was but the beginning of a series of troubles
which descended upon the latter half i)f Bruce's life.
In August, 1600, the king met with the strange
.adventure known by the name of the Clowrie con-
spiracy. When he al'terwards requested tiie ministers
of Edinburgh to give an account of this affair to their
congregations, and offer up tiianks for his deliverance,
Bruce happened to be one of a considerable ]>arty
who could not bring themselves to believe that James
had been conspired against by the two young Ruth-
vens, but rather were of opinion tliat the whole affair
was a conspiracy of his own to rid himself of two
men whom he had reason to hate. To King James,
who wished to impress the nation with a sense of his
wonderful deliverance, this scepticism wasexceedingly
annoying, for more reasons than one; and accorilingly
it was not surprising that he should have been dis-
posed to take the sharjiest measures with a recusant
of so much popular inlluence as Bruce. "\'e have
heard me, ye have heard my minister, ye have heard
my council, ye have heard the Earl of Mar," ex-
claimed the enraged monarch; yet all would not do.
The chancellor then ])ronounced a sentence dictated
by the council, prohibiting Bruce and three of his
brethren to jireach in the kingdom under pain of
death.

Bruce was not the man to be daunted or driven
from his purpose when the liberties of his church
and the maintenance of a gotxl conscience were con-
cerned. He had made up his mind to withstand, at
all hazards, the now undisguised machinations of his
infatuated monarch to crush the Presbyterian cause.
In 1596, when the privy council was prosecuting
David Black, minister of St. Andrew's, for certain
expressions he had uttered in the pulpit, Bruce
headed a deputation of ministers to the king, to
endeavour to bring about an accomnioclation. He
declared with solemn earnestness, on behalfof him-
self and his .associates, "that if the matter concerned
only the life of Mr. Black, or that of a dozen otiiers,
they would have thought it of comparatively trifling
importance; but as it was the liberty of the gospel,
and the spiritual sovereignty of the Lord Jesus, that
was assailed, they could not submit, but must oppose
all such proceedings, to the extreme hazard of their
lives." Tiiis declaration moved the king at the time,
and wrung tears from his eyes; but the relentings of
his better nature were soon overcome by his courtiers.
He was but too anxious to get so formidable an
opponent as Bruce out of the way, and the pres'ent
occasion aff.>rdecl him a favourable ojjportunity.
Bruce, after s[)ending some time as a |nisoner in
Airth, his ])aternal seat, embarked at t^ueensfcrry on
the 5ih of . November, 1600, (or Diepjie, in Normandy,
which he reached in five days. Next year he was
allowed to return to his native country, altliough not
to reside in Edinliurgh. He liad two interviews witii
James, one of them at the very moment wiien his
majesty mounted horse on his journey to 1-^ngland.
But the minions of tiie court and friends of the
Episcopal religion contrived to [prevent his offers of
sulnnission from having their due weight. He was
fi;)rinally deposed in 1605, and sent t(j Inverness, which
was then a frcfjuent place of banishment f(jr obnoxious
clergymen. 'I'here lie remained for eight years, only
exercising his gifts in a private way, but still with
the liest effect upon the rude jieoplewlio heard him.
In 1613 his son procured permission for his return to
Kinnaird, upon the condition that he would confine
himself to that place. There, however, he soon

found himself verj' painfully situated on account of
the comparatively dissolute manners of the neigh-
bouring clergy, who are said to have persecuted him
in return for the freedom he used in censuring their
behaviour. He obtained leave from the privy
council to retire to a more sequestered house at
Monkland, near Bothwell, where, however, he soon
attracted the notice of the Bishop of Glasgow on
account of the crowds which flocked to hear him.
He was obliged to return to Kinnaird. In 1621 the
Scottish parliament was about to pass the famed
articles of Berth, in order to bring back something
like uniformity with England in the national system
of worship. Bruce could not restrain his curiosity
to witness this awful infliction upon the church; he
took advantage of some pressing piece of private
business to come to Edinburgh. Tlie bishops watched
the motions of their powerful enemy with vigilance,
and he was soon observed. They entered a petition
and complaint before the council, and he was com-
mitted to Edinburgh Castle for several months, after
which he was again banished to Inverness. Some of
the lords of the council who were his friends wrote to
court, in order to have the place of confinement fixed
at his family seat; but James had heard of the effect
of his preachings at that place, and returned for answer
— "It is not for the love of him that ye have written,
l)ut to entertain a schism in the kirk; we will have no
more popish pilgrimages to Kinnaird (in allusion to
the frequent intercourse between Bruce and the pious
jieople of the surrounding country); he shall go to
Inverness." The king never forgave his scepticism
of the Gowrie conspiracy, although this v.as the
occasion rather than the cause of the persecution
which tracked him in his latter years. He remained
at Inverness till the death of James, in 1625, when he
obtained jierniission once more to reside at his own
house. He was even allowed, for some time after
this, to preach in several of the parish cliurches
around Edinburgh, whither large crowds flocked to
hear him. At length, in 1629, Charles wrote to the
council, requesting that he might again be confined
to Kinnaird, or the space of two miles around it.
The church of Laibert having been neglected by the
bishops, and left in ruins without either minister or
stipend, he had repaired it at his own expense; and
now finding it within the limits of his confinement,
he preached there every .Sunday to a numerous and
eager audience. .\t one of his sermons, either in
that church or in the neighljourhood, he gained a
proselyte who vindicated his cause, and that of I'res-
Ijyterians in general, a few years after. This was
the celebrated Alexander Henderson, minister at
Leuchars, in Eife. whom he was the means of con-
verting, by preaching horn the first verse of the
tenth chapter of St. John's Gospel.

Brucehad nowlived tosee the.Scottish Presbyterian
church altered for an imperfect Episcopacy, and as
he ])rei)ared for the fate which threescore and ten
years had long marked out for him, he must have
felt convinced that what remained of his favourite
system could not long survive him. The revival of
the I'resbyteriau jiolity, in all its pristine glory, ^\•as
reserved in its ])ri)])er time for his jnipil Henderson.
Exhausted witli tlie infirmities of age, he was for
some time almost confined to his chamber; yet, as
he laljoured under no active disease, his end advanced
shnvly. (,)n the 13th of August, 1631, having
breakfasted with his family in the usual manner, he
felt (leatii aiijjrcjaching, and warned his children
that his .Master called him. With these words he
desired a Bilile to be brought, and finding that his
sight was gone, he refpiested his daughter to ])!nee
his hand on the two last verses of chap. viii. of the

REV, ROBERT BRUCE

MRS. MARY BRUNTON.

Romans. These were highly expressive of his life,
his resolution, and his hopes. When his hand was
fixed on the words, he remained for a few mo-
ments satisfied and silent. He had only strength
to add, "Now God be with you, my children; I
have breakfasted with you, and shall sup to-night
with the Lord Jesus Christ." He then closed his
eyes and peacefully expired.

Such was the end of the long and varied life of
Robert Hruce. His bold and comprehensive mind,
his stern independence, and stainless integrity, are
qualities which, under every disadvantage, procure
the respect of mankind, and indicate superior char-
acter. Less violent than Melville, more enlightened
than Knox, he viewed with a brighter and milder
eye the united interests of the church and nation.
Had he chosen to accommodate himself to the tem-
porizing spirit of the age, he might have stood high
in royal favour, and become, in point of political
influence, the first man of the age. But the true
greatness of his character as a Christian minister and
a patriot, which shone brightest in adversity, would
never have appeared; nor would the services have
been rendered to his church and country which con-
tributed to secure to them those blessings of national
freedom and liberty of conscience which have de-
scended to our own times, and which it should be
our study to preserve and transmit to future genera-
tions. James VI. found in men like Bruce, and in
the church of which he was an ornament, formidable
obstacles to the civil and spiritual despotism which
he had destined for his .Scottish subjects; hence his
fear of both was equal to his dislike. Lnpartial
history indorses not the later but the earlier judg-
ment of the king, wlio was so sensible of the valuable
services of the church in preserving public tran-
quillity during his absence in Denmark on the occa-
sion of his marriage, that in his letters to Bruce he
declared that he was "worth the quarter of his
kingdom."

The person of Robert Bruce was tall and dignified.
His countenance was majestic, and his appearance
in the pulpit grave, and expressive of much authority.
His manner of delivery was, in the words of a Pres-
byterian historian, "an eartliqtiake to his hearers,
and he rarely preached but to a weeping auditory."
It- is told, as an instance of the effect of his sermons,
that a poor Highlander one day came to him after he
had concluded, and offered to him his whole wealth
(two cows), on condition that he would make God
his friend. Accustomed to continual prayer and
intense meditation on religious subjects, his ardent
imagination at times appears to have lost itself in
visions of the divine favour; a specious but natural
illusion, by wliich the most virtuous minds have
been deceived and supported when reason and
philosophy have been summoned in vain. His
knowledge of the Scriptures was extensive, and
accurate beyond the attainment of his age. His
skill in the languages, and the sciences of those
times, not to mention his acquaintance with the
laws and constitution of the kingdom, a branch of
knowledge possessed by few of his brethren, was
equal, if not superior, to that of any of the -Scottisli
reformers. His sermons, of wliich sixteen were
printe<l in his lifetime, display a boldness of expres-
sion, regularity of style, and force of argument,
seldom to l)e found in the .Scottish writers of the
sixteenth century. A translation of their rich idiom-
atic .Scottish into the ICnglish tongue was printed in
1617, and is that which is now most common in
Scotland.

This great man was buried within the church of
Larbcrt, in which he had often preachcti during the

latter part of his life. People assembled from all
quarters to attend his funeral; and, according to
Calderwood, Wtween four and five thousand persons
followed his corpse to the grave. It is impossible to
conclude this narrative of his life, without remarking
how much of his person and character revived in the
Abyssinian Bruce, his descendant in the sixth degree,
whose person was also majestic, and whose mind,
while diminished a little in utility by hasty passion
and a want of .accommodation to circumstances, was
also of the most powerful cast, and calculated to
produce a great impression upon those arounj it.

BRUNTON, Mrs. Mary, an eminent moral
novelist of the present century, was bom in the
island of Burra, in Orkney, November i, 1778.
Her father was Colonel Thomas Balfour of Llwick,
a cadet of one of the most respectal)le families in the
county of Orkney. Her mother was Frances Ligonier,
only daughter of Colonel Ligonier of the 13th
dragoons, and niece of the Earl of Ligonier, under
whose care she was educated. Previous to her
sixteenth year, Mary Balfour had received some in-
structions in music, and in French and Italian, from
her mother, and her education was completed by a
short residence at a boarding-school in Edinburgh.
At the early age mentioned, she had to undertake
the charge of her father's household, from which she
was removed in her twentieth year, to be the wife
of the Rev. Alex. Brunton, minister of the parish of
Bolton in Flast Lothian. In the retirement and mo-
derate elegance of a .Scottish manse, Mrs. Brunton
was only at first conspicuous for her attention to her
household duties. Afterwards, however, the tastes
of her husband led her gradually into habits of study,
and she went, with his direction and assistance,
through a course of reading in history, philosoph}-.
criticism, and the belles lettres. The promotion of
her husband to a ministerial charge at Edinburgh,
which took place six years after her marriage, was
favourable to the expansion and improvement of
her intellect, by introducing her into a circle of
society more enlightened than any in which she hafl
hitherto moved. The native powers of her mind
were slowly developed; she ripened from the simple
housewife into the clear-minded and intelligent
si77'i7/t/c. Yet for many years she was only known
as a well-informed but perfectly unpretending female.
So far from displaying any disposition to active
literature, she felt the composition of a letter to be
burdensome. A trivial circumstance is said to have
operatetl, with several other causes, in inducing her
to attempt a regular work. She had often urged
her husband to undertake some literar)- production,
and once she appealed to an intimate Iriend, who
was present, whether he would not publi^h it. Tin-.
tliird party expressed a ready consent, but said he
wouI(.l at least as willingly publish a book of licr (nvn
writing. This seemed at the time to strike her \\;;ii
a sense of her powers hitherto not entertained, avA
she asked more than once whether he was in enrnc>t.
.She then appears to have commenced her novel en-
titled Sc!/- Control, of which she had fmi-hcd a con-
sideral)le part of the first volume before ni.ikirg i. von
her husban<l privy to her design. In iSii tI;e\\'oi',c
was published at Edinburgh, in two vr,!v.ir,es. a:;.l
the impression which it niade upon the ] i;;i!;c ua^
immediate and decisive. It was a<jki;owIf.!^t.-'; tl;.';t
tliere were faults of a n-;(;ic.-.I and nio.-t unt'-ri:i:Krrj
kind— such as the perpetual danger to whiJi th.e
honour of the heroine was cxp<i-cd lan iiitolcr.ii le
subject of fictitious writii^.g'i, but every <vr.c ?:\ ] rc-
ciated the beatUy and corrctti-.c-s of tb.e st}Ie, and
the acuteness of obscrvati'iu ;i:vl l-jitiric^-. 01 senti-

MRS. MARY BRUNTON ALEXANDER BRYCE.

ment which pervaded the whole. The modesty of
Mrs. Brunton, which was almost fantastic, induced
her to give this composition to the world without her
name. Four years afterwards she published a second
novel in three volumes, entitled Discipline, which
was only admired in a degree inferior to tlie first.
She afterwards commenced a third tale under the
title Eiinneliue, which she did not live to finish.

Mrs. Brunton had been married twenty years with-
out being blessed with any offspring. In the summer
of l8i8, when a prospect of that blessing occurred,
she became impressed with a belief that she should
not survive. With a tranquillity, therefore, which
could only be the result of great strength of mind,
joined to the purest sentiments of religion and virtue,
she made every preparation for death, exactly as if
she had been about to leave her home u]ion a journey.
The clothes in which she was to be laid in the grave
were selected by herself; she herself had chosen and
labelled some tokens of remembrance for her more
intimate friends; and she even prepared, with her
own hand, a list ()f the individuals to whom she
wished intimations of her death to be sent. Yet
these anticipations, though so deeply fi.xed, neither
shook her fortitude nor tliminished her cheerfulness.
They neither altered her wish to live, nor the ardour
with which she ]irepared to meet the duties of return-
ing health, if returning health were to be her portion.

To the inexpressible grief of her husband and
friends, and, it may be said, of the literary world
at large, the unfortunate lady's anticipations proved
true. On the "th of December she gave birth to a
still-born son, and for some days recovered with a
rapidity beyond the hopes of her medical attendants.
A fever, however, took place, and, advancing with
fatal violence, terminated her valuable life on the
igtli, in the 41st year of her age.

The whole mind and character of Mrs. Brunton
was "one pure and perfect chrysolite" of excellence.
We are so agreeably anticipated in an estimate of
lier worth by an obituary tribute paid to her memory
by Mrs. Joanna liaillie, that we shall make no
scruple for laying it before the reader: —

" N'o more shall bed-nd pauper watch
The gentle rising of the latch,
And as she enters shift his place,
To hear her voice and sec her face.
The helpless vagrant, oft relieved.
From her hath his last dole received.
'I'he circle, social and enlightened.
Whose evening hours her converse brightened,
Have seen her (|uil the friendly door.
Whose threshold she shall cross no more.
And he, by holy ties endear'd,
Whose life her love so sweetly cheer'd,
Of her cold clay, the mind's void cell,
Hath tac'n .a sf/Cechless last farewell.
Yea. those who never saw her face,
Now did on blue hor.zf>n trace
One nionntain of lier native land,
Nor turn that leaf with eager hand,
On which ap[>cars the unfiiiish'd page,
Ctf her whose works diil oft engage
Lntir'd attention, interest deep,
While searching, healthfnl thonglits would creep
To the heart's core, like balmy air,
To leave a kindly feeling there, —
And gaze, till st.ain of fallen tears
Upon the snowy blank appears.
Now all who di<i her friendship claim
With altered voice pronoimcc tier name,
And <|iiickly turn, with wistful car.
Her [jraise from stranger's lip to hear.
And hoard, .xs saintly relics gain'd.
Aught that to her hath e'er pertain'd."

The last beautiful allusion is to the unfinished tale
of linumlmc, which was ])ublished by her husband,
Dr. Brunton (late professor of oriental languages
in the university of Edinburgh), along with a brief,
but most elegant and touching memoir of her life.

BRYCE, The Rev. At,exander, an eminent
geometrician, was born in the year 1713, at Borland
in the parish of Kincardine, and received the first
rudiinents of learning at the school of Downe, Perth-
shire. He studied afterwards at the university of
Edinburgh, where his proficiency in mathematics
and practical astronomy early attracted the notice,
and secured for him the patronage, of Professor
Maclaurin. At the particular request of that cele-
brated man, he went to Caithness, in May, 1740, as
tutor to a gentleman's son, but chiefly to construct a
map of the northern coast; the number of shipwrecks
rendering this, at the time, an object of considerable
national importance. During a residence of three
years, and in defiance of many threats from the
peasantry (which made it necessary for hiin to go
always armed), who did not relish so accurate an
examination of their coast, from motives of dis-
loyalty, or because they were afraid it would deprive
them of two principal sources of incorne — smuggling
and plunder from the shipwrecks — he accomplished,
at his oTvn expense, the geometrical survey, and
furnished "A Map of the North Coast of Britain,
from Raw Stoir of Assynt, to Wick, in Caithness,
with the Harbours and Rocks, and an Account of
the Tides in the Pentland Firth." This map was
afterwards published by the Philosophical, now the
Royal, Society of Edinburgh in 1744. Mr. Arrow-
smith, it maybe inentioned, pronounced it to be very
accurate, after a minute examination, while preparing
materials for his large inap of Scotland.

On his return to Edinburgh, in 1743, Mr. Bryce
gave very efficient aid, with his friend the Rev.
Air. Wallace of Haddo's Hole church, in verifying
the necessary calculations subinitted to them by Dr.
Webster, previous to the institution, by act of parlia-
ment, of the fund for a provision for the widows of
the Scottish clerg}'; the regular increase of which
since, and its present flourisliing state, form the best
encomium of those who laboured forits establishment.

In June, 1744, he was licensed to preach by the
reverend presbytery of Dunblane; and having re-
ceived a ])rescntation by James, I^arl of Morton, to
the church and jiarish of Kirkncwton, within the
presbytery of lidinburgh, he was ordained to serve
that cure, in August, 1745. From his knowledge of
the inland geography of Scotland, and line of the
roads, he was enabled, this year, to furnish the
(]uartermaster-general of the army of the Duke of
Cuml)erland with im]iortant infcMination regarding
tlie march of the forces in subduing the rebellion.
In the winter of 1745, and spring of 1746, he taught
the mathematical classes in the university of Edin-
burgli, at the desire, and during the last illness, of
Professor Maclaurin, who died in June following.
Mr. Bryce expressed his sorrow for the loss of his
friend, in versc, of which the following is a specimen; —

"Yon angel guards that wait his soul,
Amaz'd at aught from earth so bright,
Find nothing new, from pole to pole,
'Jo show him in a clearer light.

"Joyful he bears glad news^ on high,

y\nd tells them through celestial space
See Newton hastens down the sky,
'I'o meet him with .a warm embrace!

' A few days before liis friend's death, he saw him institute
a calculation for ascertaining the proportion that existed
between the axis tif the earth and the diameter of its ecjuator.
It proceede<l on data sent him by the l^^arl of iNIorton, jiresi-
dent of the Royal Society, consisting of observations made in
Peru by the French mathematicians, and communicated at
London by Don Antonio, who was taken prisoner at Cape
llreton. 'I'he proportion ascertained was very nearly that
which Sir Isaac Newton hmX frciiictrti; being as 2-.:\ : 222, and
afforcletl particuhir gratification. These are the news he is
supposed to bear.

ALEXANDER BRYCE.

"The list'ning choirs around them throng,
Their love and wonder fond to show;
On golden harps they tune the song
Of Nature's laws in worlds below.

"O Forbes, Koulks, loved Morton, mourn;
Kdina, London, Paris, sigh;
With tears be<tew his costly um.
And pray — Earth light upon him lie."

In the year 1750, having occasion to visit Stirling,
and knowing that, by an act of the Scottish parHa-
inent, this borough had the keeping of the pint jug,
the standard, by si)ecia! statute, for weight and for
liquid and dry measure in Scotland, he requested a
sight of it from the magistrates. I laving been re-
ferred to the council house, a prwUr pi>t( Jtig\\\\\c\\
had been kept suspended from the roof of the apart-
ment, was taken down and given to him. After min-
utely examining it, he was convinced that it could
not be the standard. The discovery was in vain
communicated to the magistrates, who were ill able
to appreciate their loss. It excited very different
feelings in the mind of an antiquary and a mathema-
tician; and resolved, if possible, to recover this valu-
able antique, he immediately instituted a search,
which, though conducted with much patient industry
during part of this and the following year, proved
unavailing. In the spring of 1752 it occurred to
him that this standard might have been borrowed
by some of tlie braziers or coppersmiths, for tlie
purpose of making legal measures for the citizens;
and having learned that a person of this description,
called Urquhart, had joined the rebel forces in 1745;
that his furniture and shop utensils had been brought
to public sale on his not returning; and that various
articles which had not been sold were thrown into a
garret as useless, he obtained permission to inspect
them; and. to his great satisfaction, discovered, under
a mass of lumber, the precious object of his long re-
search. Tluis was recovered the only legal standard
of weight and measure in Scotland, after it had been
offered, in ignorance, for public sale, and thrown
aside unsold as trash, and long after it had been
considered by its constitutional guardians as irre-
trievably lost.

The standard Stirling pint jug is made of brass,
in the form of a hollow truncated cone, and weighs
14 pounds, 10 ounces, i drop, and 18 grains, Scotch
troy. The mean diameter of the mouth is 4'I7
inches. The mean diameter of the bottom 5 '25
inches, and the mean depth 6 inches English. On
the front, near the moutli, in alto-relievo, is a shield
and lion rampant, the arms of Scotland; and near
the bottom ani:'iher shield, and an ape, passant
gardant, wiili the letter S below, supposed to have
been intended as the arms of Stirling. The arms at
present are a wolf The ape must have been put on
therefore inadvertently by the maker, or the town
must have clianged its arms at a period subsequent
to tlie time when the standard was ordered to be
made. The handle is fixed with two brass nails;
the whole is of rude workmanshiji, and indicates
great antiquity.

I5y an act nf the Scottisli p.irliament, Edinburgh
had the keeping of the standard ell, Perth the reel,
Lanark the pound, Linlithgow the firlot, and .Stir-
ling \\\c pint jii^, an arrangement made by the legis-
lature, in the view of inqiroving the internal com-
merce of the coiHitry, by checking the frauds which
the traffickers of a rude age may be supposed to
have often attempted, and because the commodities
to which these ditTcrcnt standards referred, were
known to have been siip])licd in greater abundance
by the districts and ti_)wn- to whose care they were
respectively committed. Hence it maybe inl'errcd
that Lanark was then tite princijjal market for wool,

Perth for yam, Edinburgh for cloth, Linlithgow for
grain, and Stirling for distilled and fermented liquors.
The .Stirling jug is mentioned in acts of parliament
as being in the town before the reign of James II. in
'437; anfl the last mention made of it is in the reign
ol James VL, in an "act of parliament, 19 Feb-
ruary, 1618, anent .settling the measures and weights
of Scotland." No accurate exi)criments appear to
have been afterwards made with it for fixing the
legal quantity of these measures and weights, till
the following by Mr. Bryce, in 1762-3, a ])eriod of
about 135 years!

Having been permitted, after recovering the stan-
dard jug, to carry it with him to Edinburgh, his first
object was to ascertain precisely, by means of it, the
number of cubic inches, and parts of a cubic inch, in
the true Scotch pint.

For this purpose the mouth of the jug was made
exactly horizontal, by applying to it a ^,])irit level; a
minute silver wire of the thickness of a hair, with a
plummet attached to each end, was laid acrcjss the
mouth, and water poured gently in till, with a
magnifying glass, it was seen just to touch the wire:
the water was then carefully weighed in a balance,
the beam of which would turn with a single grain
when 96 ounces were in each scale. After seventeen
trials with clear spring and river water, several of
which were made in presence of the magistrates of
Edinburgh, the content of the jug was found to
weigh, at a medium of the trials, 54 ounces, 8 drops.
20 grains, or 26,180 grains, English troy.

Mis next object was to determine accurately how
many of these grains were contained in a cubic inch
of water. With this view, a cylindrical brass vessel
was made with great accuracy, by a scale of Bird,
the celebrated mathematical instrument-maker of
London, to contain 100 cubic inches. This vessel
was filled several times with the same water as in the
trials with the jug, and its content was found to
weigh 25,318 grains, English troy. This number,
divided by 100, gives 2~)l^-^rj grains as the weight of

a cubic inch of water: therefore, '. — io::-Vl*-

the exact number of cubic inches, and parts of a
cubic inch, in the standard -Scotch pint: SiVr.'Vrr cul)ic
inches in the chopin: 25-i^,/v,V cubic inclics in the
mutchkin; and so on proportionally in the other
smaller Scotch measures.

Mr. Bryce next applied the standard jug to fix the
legal size of the different measures for grain; wliicli
he com]iared with some of the English dry mtas-
ures. By act of parliament, February 19, 1618,
formerly mentioned, it is ordained that the 7i'i:eat
and pease firlot shall contain 2l| pints; and the hear
and oat fiirlot 31 pints of the ju.st .Stirling jug.
Therefore, since there are lO^^^'-*:^ cubic inches in
the standard Scotch pint, there will be 2197-,',-,'.:^,-
cubic inches in the wheat and jiease firlut; 549i'',.';Vv
in the peck; and i37/7;Wu in the lip]iie — in tlie \>i::\n
and oat firlot, 3205 /',-;--*? cubic inches; Soi^V,'- ii:
the peck; and 200j''^Vo '''' ''i<^ li]ip:e. The exce>~
of a boll of liear above a boll of wheat wn- lov.i^il tc
be jirecisely 5 pecks bear mea>ure, and i niutclikin.
without the difference of a single gill: '<'', a li".! ot
bear is more than a boll of wheat by 7 j cck-: l^
lippie, wheat mea>ure, wanting I gill.

The English corn bu>hel cor/i.-.ir.i 217S cul>ic
inches, which is le-s tli.in the Scm-_Ji wl.tr.t i"iil< :
by I9'355 inches or three i;il'.-: ->' that 7 hrl"t~ of
wheat will make 7 K:\l;1!.-1i Ir.i-l.cN .tii 1 I lij'pie.
The Engli^h corn hu-liel i- le^^ t!;an tlie b.irley l^rl.it
bv I jieck 3.1 lippies iie.irn'.

'The legal" English bushel l^y whi.li ga;:-er^ art-
ordered to make their return- ■. t" ir.alt, cci-.taiu;

224

ALEXANDER BRYCE.

2 1 50 '42 cubic inches, which is less than the wheat
firlot by 46'9I5 cubic inches, or I chopin, wanting ^
gill; and less than the bear firlot by 1055 "104 cubic
inclies, or 2 bear pecks, wanting 7 gills.

A Scotch barley boll contains 5 bushels, 3 pecks,
2 lippies, and a little more, according to the Win-
chester gallon.

A Scotch barley boll, according to the legal
measure, contains 6 busliels, wanting a little more
than \ lippie.

A Scotch chalder {16 bolls of barley) is equal to
1 1 quarters, 6 bushels, and 3 lippies, Winchester
measure.

A Scotch chalder of wheat is equal to 8 quarters,
2 pecks, and I lippie, Winchester measure.

A wheat firlot made according to the dimensions
mentioned in the Scotch act of ])arliament, 1618,
viz. igi inches diameter at top and bottom, and 7j
inches in heiglit, Scotch measure, would be less than
the true wheat firlot (or 2il^ pints of tlie standard
jug) by a .Scotch chopin: a chalder of wheat mea-
sured with this firlot would fall short of llie true
quantity I firlot 2 pecks, or nearly 2^ per cent.

A barley firlot made according to the dimensions
in the said act, viz. having tlie same diameter at top
and bottom as the wheat firlot, and loi inclies in
height, Scotch measure, would be less than the true
firlot (or 31 pints of the standard jug) by 5 mutch-
kins: and a chalder of bear, measured with such a
firlot, would fill short of the just quantity 2 firlots,
2 ])ecks, and nearly 2 lippies, or 4 per cent.

These very remarkable mistakes must have pro-
ceeded from the ignorance or inaccuracy of the
persons authorized by parliament to make the calcu-
lations, and to determine the exact dimensions of the
firlot measure. For, suppose a firlot were made of
the following dimensions, viz. 20 inches diameter,
English measure, at top and bottom, and 7 inclies in
depth, it would contain 21 .\ pints (the true wheat and
pease firlot) and only i of a gill more.

A firlot of the same diameter as above, at top and
bottom, and lo^ inches in depth, would contain 31
pints (the true hear and oat firlot) and only 2 gills
more: l)Ut if, instead of lOj, it be made 10^ inches
in depth, it will be less than 31 pints (llie true
standard measure), only \ of a single gill.

By the greater of these firlots were to be measured
bear, oats, and malt; by the less wheat, rye, beans,
j)ease, and salt.

According to the act of parliament in 1618, to
which reference has been made, the Scotch pint con-
tains of the clear running water of ]>eith three [pounds
and seven ounces, French troy weight, and this is
ordained to be the weight of Scotland; therefore, in
the Scotch pound there are 7616 troy grains; and in
the .Scotch ounce 476 troy grains, and so on pro-
portionally with regard to the other .Scotch weiglits.

In this way, by tlie recovery of the standard .Stir-
ling pint jug, canons of easy application resulted for
determining the just quantity of the measures, liquid
and dry, and al.^o of the weights in Scotland, and
therefore of great public utility, by settling disjuites
and preventing litigati<jn in that jjart of the emjiire.

After having obtained the above results by means
of the standard jug, Mr. Hrycc superintended, at the
desire of the magistrates of Ivlinburgli, the adjust-
ment of the weights and measures kept by the Dean
of (/uild; and "/i'r his ,i;ood sct~'iccs to the city,'' was
made a burgess and guild brother in January, 1754.

.Several detached articles by Mr. I'ryce were
published l)y the Royal .Society of London, par-
ticularly An Account of a Comet ohsc}~^ed by him in
176G; A Xi-w Method of Meamrini^ the I'eloeity
of the Wind; An Ex/ertmcnt to ascertain to wliat

Quantity of Water a fall of Snow on the EartJi's
Surface is equal. His observations on the transits
of Venus, 6th June, 1761, and 3d June, 1769, were
considered by astronomers as important in solving
the grand problem. Li May, 1767, he was con-
sulted by the trustees for procuring surveys of the
lines proposed for the canal between the Forth and
Clyde, and received their thanks for his remarks,
afterw^ards communicated to them in writing, on Mr.
.Smeaton's first printed report. About this time he
was introduced to .Stuart jNlackenzie, lord privy-seal
of .Scotland, who, as a lover of the arts and sciences,
highly respecting his genius and acquirements, ob-
tained for him soon after the office of one of his
majesty's chaplains in ordinary; and, during the
remainder of his life, honoured him with his friend-
ship and patronage.

lie planned for that gentleman the elegant obser-
vatory at Belmont Castle, where also are still to be
seen an instrument contrived by him for ascertaining
the magnifying powers of telescopes, and a horizontal
marble dial, made with great precision, to indicate
the hour, the minute, and every ten seconds. In
1770, his lordship having communicated an account
of a phenomenon observed by Lord Charles Caven-
dish, Dr. Ilabberden, and himself, viz. "that a
less quantity of rain (by a difference which was con-
siderable) fell into the rain-gauges placed on the top
of Westminster Abbey and an adjoining house than
into those placed below," and for which they found
it difficult to account, Mr. Bryce sent to his lordship,
on the 14th December, an ingenious solution of the
fact. In 1772 he wrote Remarks on the Barometer
for Measuring Altitudes; showing the uncertainty
and limited use of the instrument as then commonly
used for that purpose, and the means by which it
might be rendered more perfect and greater preci-
sion attained. These remarks were sent to lord
privy-seal in January, 1773. In a map of the Three
Lothians, engraved by Kitchen of London, and
published in 1773 by Andrew and Mostyn Ann-
strong, "the scales of longitude and latitude are
laid down agreeably to the observations of the Rev.
Mr. Brj'ce at Kirknewton manse." In A])ril, 1774,
in consequence of certain apparently insurmountable
difficulties, he was consulted by the magistrates of
.Stirling on the subject of supj^lying the town with,
water: these tlifficulties he removetl by taking ac-
curately all the different levels; making the calcula-
tions for the size of the leaden pipes and the reser-
voir, and fixing the situation for its being placed.
For this service he had the freedom of the town con-
ferred on him. In 1776 he made all the requisite
calculations for an epitome of the solar system on a
large scale, afterwards erected by the Larl of Buchan
at his seat at Kirkhill. In case of disputes about
the extent of fields exchanged by neighbouring pro-
prietors, or the line of their inarches, he was generally
chosen sole arbiter, and from his knowledge in lanii-
surveying, and the confidence reposed in him, had it
often in his ])owcr to render them essential service.
-Mr. Bryce used to send various meteorological obser-
vations and other detached notices to Ruddiman's
Weekly Ma-azuie.

I'Vom the time of his ordination, in 1745, till his
death on the 1st January, 1786, he discliarged with
great fidelity all the duties of his ]5asloral office, and
excelled jiarticularly in that species of didactic dis-
course known in Sctjtland under the name of lecture.
His lectures, however, were never fully written, but
s])oken from ii(;tes; and he left no seriiions fur pub-
lication.

In early life he composed several songs, adapted
to some of the most favourite Scottish airs, and his

PATRICK BRYDONE

ALEXANDER BRYSON.

225

stanzas, in The Dirks of Invermay, have been long
before the world. For about three years before his
death his greatest amusement was in writing poetry,
chiefly of a serious and devotional cast; whicii,
though not composed for the public eye, is read
with satisfaction by his friends, and valued by them
as an additional proof of his genius, and a transcript
of that enlightened piety, uprightness of mind, and
unshaken trust in his Creator, which characterized
him through the whole of life.

BRYDONE, Patrick, F.R.S., the well-known
auth(jr of A Tour in Sicily and Malta, one of the
most entertaining works in the language, was the son
of the parish minister of Coldingham, Berwickshire,
and was born at Coldingham in 1741. Having
received an excellent university education, which
qualified him for the duties of a travelling preceptor,
he was engaged in that capacity, first by Mr. Beck-
ford, of Somerly in .Suffolk, and afterwards Mr.
Fullarton, who was known in after-life as com-
mander of a large body of troops in India, and finally
as one of the three commissioners for the government
of Trinidad. His excursion with the former gentle-
man took place in 1 767-8; the latter in 1770. In
the second tour he visited Sicily and Malta, which
were then almost unknown to the English. Having
written an account of this journey in a series of
letters to Mr. Beckford, he was induced, by a con-
sideration of the uninformed state of the British
public upon this subject, to publish his work in 1773,
under the title of A Tour through Sicily and Malta.
This work is not only a most original and amusing
narrative, but it contains a great deal of scientific
knowledge, especially regarding the temperature of
the air, which was the object of Mr. Brydone's par-
ticular study. For the purpose of carrying on his
scientific obser\'ations, he travelled with an apparatus
as perfect as could then be procured, or as it was
possil)le to carry in the luggage of a traveller.
Having returned to England in 1 77 1, he obtained a
respectable appointment under government, and
after the publication of his travels, which procured
for him no common share of reputation and respect,
was nominated a member of several learned societies,
particularly of the Royal .Society, London. In the
Transactions of this learned body are several papers
of Mr. Brydone, chiefly on the subject of electricity,
of which he was a profound student, and a close and
anxious observer. He spent the latter part of his
life in retirement at Lennel House, near Coldstream,
where he was visited by the most distinguished per-
sons in literature and public life. The author of
Marmion has introduced into that work the follow-
ing episode respecting Mr. Br)'done: —

"Where Lennel's convent closed their march:
Tlicre now Is left but one frail arch,

\'et motim thou not its cells;
Our time .a f;iir exchange has made;
Hard by. in hospitable shade,

A reverend pilgrim dwells.
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood,
That e'er wore sand.al, froclc, or hood."

Patrick Brydone died at Lennel in iSiS, at an
advanced age.

BRYSON, AirxANDF.R. This talented Edin-
burgh citizen, who. though employed in a mechanical
profc-.->ion, won for himself a distinguished scientific
reputation, was the eldest son of R(5bert Bryson,
who founded the well-known firm of watchmakers
in the Scotti^li capital. .Alexander was horn at No.
5 South Bridge, on the 14th October, iSl6. .\fter
the usual course of educ.ition at the high-school,
being destined to follow his father's occupation, he

VOL. I.

was apprenticed to a watchmaker at Musselburgh;
and at the expiration of his indenture, he went to
London, to perfect himself in the art of watch and
clock making. He was not, however, contented
with the mere mechanical details of his trade, or
the sujierior correctness of his time-keepers — and
perhaps it was the very nature of these that
strengthened his original aptitude for scientific in-
quiry, and fitted him for the pursuits of physical
science. At all events, the i>atience and exactitude
so essential in the art of watchmaking he transferred
to his scientific pursuits; and on his return to Edin-
burgh, where he entered into partnership with his
brother, he also enrolled himself as a student at the
university, and attended the classes of chemistrv and
natural philosophy taught by Professors Hope and
Forbes. He became a regular attender of the School
of Arts, in founding which his father and Mr.
Leonard Homer had taken a very active part; and
from a student, Alexander Bryson rose to the rank
of a fellowship in the society, and finally to the
president's chair. He also became president of
the Royal Physical Society. Besides holding an
honoured place in these scientific a.ssociations, Mr.
Bryson was a fellow of the Royal Society of E<iin-
burgh, and of the Geological .Society of London.
His great attainments in science also procured him
the esteem of some of the most distinguished scientific
men of the day. With that eminent naturalist, Dr.
Fleming, of Aberdeen college, and after^vards of the
new college, Edinburgh, Mr. Bryson was on terms
of close intimacy for many years. He joined the
professor in his geological excursions, and was a
strenuous defender of his opinions; and when Fleming
died, the excellent memoir that appeared of him in
the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh
was from the pen of Br)son. He was also on terms
of intimate friendship with the late Sir Thomas
Macdougall Brisbane, of whom he published an in-
teresting memoir in the 7'ransacttotis of the Royal
.Society, of which Sir Thomas was for many years
the president. But the most substantial proof of the
esteem in which he was held by men who could
appreciate his attainments, was given by the late
Mr. Nicol, the inventor of the well-known prism
which bears his name. AVith him in early life Mr.
Bryson formed a close friendship, the natural con-
sefjuence of mutual sympathy in their studies and
pursuits; and when N'icol died, he bequeathed to his
young friend not only his fine librar)- and collection
of minerals, but also his property. By this hand-
some bequest Bpison was independent of his profes-
sional business, and enabled more closely to devote
himself to his favourite studies in after-life.

It was perhaps in consequence of his dcvotedncss
to natural science in general, instead of res'ricting
himself to one particular branch of it, that Brvsou
published no separate work: to do this, he must have
been exclusively or especially a geologi>t, or .":
mineralogist, or a zoologist, instead of being all the
three combined. Over these departments ol science.
however, his pen ranged in the form of almost thirty
jiapers, which were published in the Trim^ii li^ns
of the various societies with which lie wa- c >;;iu-cl-..d.
In 1S62 he m.ade a trip to Icehiiul. ar.d ] i;l)!i>he(i
a short description of his journey, in \\h:i.I: he C'>;'.-
clusively settled the important fact, tb.at the tem-
])erature half-way down the tuhe of ilic Oreat (/!.■}■ mt
w.is 270' Fahr.. 'whil>t at the vcrv l)ottom it \va> not
more than 240' Fahr. In 1S04 he rea<l to the
Scottish Society of .\rts an acc^uiU of a new nie'.hod
of detecting the jirc-ence aiii ]• -;t;on ol icebergs at
sea, which was reckoned of -o ir.r.eh iinjiortance,
that the Ileiiburn vxiic wa^ awarded to it. In the

15

226

EARL OF BUCHAN

ELSPITH BUCHAX.

meantime, his fellow-citizens were not insensible to
his distinguished merits, and he was in 1 86 1 elected
a member of the Town Council for Newington Ward,
an office which he was obliged to resign in November,
1865, on account of failing health, but during that
interval he took an active part in introducing the
telegraphic communications between the various
police stations in the city. In 1865 the city council
evinced their sense of his scientific acquirements by
appointing him one of the curators for the election
of prol'essors for the university of Edinburgh, the
chairs of which are subject to their appointment.
In the spring of the following year, wliile engaged
in experiments to test the applicability of the electric
light in the capture offish, for which he had obtained
a patent, he contracted a severe cold, which was
speedily followed by an attack of jaundice, under
which he lingered through the summer and autumn,
and gradually became weaker, when bronchitis
supervened, under which he gradually sank. He
died at Hawkhill, Edinburgh, on the 7th of Decem-
ber, 1866. At the next meeting of tlie Society of
Arts, the event was thus announced by the president:
— "Before commencing the business of this evening,
it is my melancholy duty to refer to the loss which
this society, in common with many others in Edin-
burgh, has sustained from the death of Mr. Alexander
Bryson. Mr. Bryson was elected a fellow of this
society in 1836, and he was a valuable and valued
member of our body. He was also elected president
some years ago. His death has been so sudden
and so recent, it is not my intention to refer to or
enumerate at any lengtli, or indeed at all, the various
improvements and the various acquisitions he has
made in scientific pursuits; and among so many of
his friends — and I see friends here with some of
whom he was very familiar — it is quite unnecessary
to refer to his kind heart, his frank and genial
manner, and the keenness with which he entered
into all the scientific pursuits which he took an
interest in. The death of Mr. Alexander Bryson
makes a sad blank in this scientific society. I liave,
therefore, to move tliat some record of the respect
we have for liis memory should be registered in our
minutes, and that our extract should be sent to his
family, in the hope that their affliction may to some
extent be lightened by the knowledge that we, as a
society, sympathize with them in their great loss."

BUCHAN, E.A.RL OK. Sc-e Erskine, D.wid S.

BUCHAN, Ei.si'iTii, tlie leader of a small sect
of fanatics now extinct, was tlie dauglUer of John
.Simpson, wlio kept an inn between Banff and I'ort-
soy. She was born in 1738, and educated in the
Scottish Episcopal communion. Having been sent
when a girl to (llasgow, in order to enter into service,
she married Robert Huchan, a workman inlhcpoiterv
belonging to her master, with whom ^lie lived for
.several years, and had several ciiildren. Having
changed her original profession of faith for tliat of
her husband, who was a Burgher-secedcr, her mind
seems to have become per]jlexed with religious
fancies, as is too often the case with tho^c wlio aher
their creeii. She fell into a habit of intci]>rctiiig the
Scriptures literally, and began tcj promulgate certain
strange doctrines, which she flerived in this manner
from holy writ. Having now removed to Irvine, she
drew over to her own way of thinking, Mr. Hugh
Whyte, a Relief clergyman, who consequently ai)-
dicated his charge, and became her chief apostle.
The sect was joined by persons of a rank of life in
which no such susceptibility was to be expected.
Mr. Hunter, a writer, and several trading [people in
good circumstances, were among the converts.

After having indulged their absurd fancies for several
years at Irvine, the mass of the people at length rose
in April, 1784, and assembled in a threatening and
tumultuous manner around Mr. Whyte's house,
which had become the tabernacle of the new re-
ligion, and of which they broke all the windows.
The Buchanites felt this insult so keenly, that they
left the town to the number of forty-six persons, and,
proceeding through Mauchline, Cumnock, Sanquhar,
and Thornhill, did not halt till they arrived at a
farmhouse, two miles south from the latter place,
and thirteen from Dumfries, where they hired the
outhouses for their habitation, in the hope of being
permitted, in that lonely scene, to exercise their
religion without further molestation. Mrs. Buchan
continued to be the great mistress of the ceremonies,
and Mr. Whyte to be the chief officiating priest.
They possessed considerable property, which all
enjoyed alike, and though several men were accom-
panied by their wives, all the responsibilities of the
married state were given up. Some of them wrought
gratuitously at their trades, for the benefit of those
who employed them; but they professed only to
consent to this, that they might have opportunities
of bringing over others to their own views. They
scrupulously abjured all worldly considerations what-
soever, wishing only to lead a quiet and holy life,
till the commencement of the millennium, or the day
of judgment, which they believed to be at hand.
"Observing," they said, "how the young ravens are
fed, and how the lilies grow, we assure ourselves that
God will feed and clothe us." Mrs. Buchan, who
was said to have given herself out to be the Virgin
Mary, at first denied that she was so. Instead of
being the mother of Christ, she said, after the flesh,
she was his daughter after the spirit. The little
republic existed for some time without anything
occurring to mar their happiness, except the occa-
sional rudeness of unbelieving neighbours. At
length, as hope sickened, worldly feelings appear
to have returned upon some of the meml:)ers; and,
notwithstanding all the efforts which Mrs. Buchan
could make to keep her flock together, a few re-
turned to Irvine. It would seem that as the faith of
her followers declined, she greatly increased the ex-
travagance of her pretensions, and the rigour of her
discijjline. It is said that when any person was
suspected of an intention to leave the society, .she
ordered him to be locked up, and ducked every day
in cold water, so that it required some little address
in any one to get out of her clutches. In the year
1786 the following facts were reported by some of
the seceding members on their return to the west: —
"The distribution of provisions she kept in her own
hand, and took special care that they should not
jmmper their bodies with too much food, and every
one behoved to be entirely directed by her. The
society being once scarce of money, she told them
she had a revelation, informing her they should have
a supply of cash from heaven: accordingly, she took
one of the members out with her, and caused him to
hold two corners of a sheet, while she held the other
two. Having continued for a considerable time
without any shower of money falling ujion it, the
man at last tired, and left Mrs. Buchan to hold the
sheet herself. Mrs. Buchan, in a .short time after,
came in with five pounds sterling, and upbraided the
man for his unbelief, which she said was the only
cause that prevented it from coming sooner. Many
of the members, however, easily accounted for this
pretended miracle, and shrewdly sus])ecled that the
money came from her own hoard. That she had a
considerable purse was not to be doubted, for she
fell on many ways to rob the members of everything

WILLIAM BUCHAN.

227

they had of vahie. Among other things, she in-
formed them one evening, that they were all to
ascend to heaven next morning; therefore it was only
necessary they should lay aside all their vanities and
ornaments, ordering them, at the same time, to throw
their rings, watches, &c., into the ash-hole, which
many were foolish enough to do, while others more
prudently hid everything of this kind that belonged
to them. Next morning she took out all the people
for their promised flight. After they had waited till
they were tired, none found themselves any lighter
than they were the day before, but remained with as
firm a footing on earth as ever. She again blamed
their unbelief— said that want of faith alone pre-
vented their ascension, and complained of the hard-
ship she was under, in being obliged, on account of
their unbelief, to continue with them in this world.
She at last fell upon an expedient to make them light
enough to ascend: nothing less was found requisite
than to fast for forty days and forty nights. The
experiment was immediately put in practice, and
several found themselves at death's door in a very
short time. She was then obliged to allow them
some spirits and water; but many resolved no longer
to submit to such regimen, and went off altogether.
We know not," thus concludes the statement, "if
the forty days be ended; but a few experiments of
this kind will leave her in the end sole proprietor
of the society's funds."

What adds to the curiosity of this strange tale of
fanaticism, is, that Mrs. Buchan's husband was still
living in pursuit of his ordinary trade, and a faithful
adiierent of the Burgher-seceders. One of her child-
ren, a boy of twelve or fourteen, lived with the
father; two girls of more advanced age were among
her own followers. Notwithstanding her increased
absurdity, and, we may add, the increased tyranny
of her Ijchaviour, she continued to have a few fol-
lowers in 1 791, when she approached her last scene.
Among these was her first apostle, Mr. Whyte.
Finding that she was about to go the way of all the
earth, she called her disciples together, and exhorted
them to continue steadfast and unanimous in their
adherence to the doctrine which they had received
from her. She told tliem she had onp secret to
communicate — a last desperate effort at imposition —
that she was in reality the Virgin Mary, and mother
of our Lord; that she was the same woman men-
tioned in the Revelations as being clothed with the
sun, and who was driven into the wilderness; that
she had been wandering in tlie world ever since our
.Saviour's days, and only for some time past had
sojourned in Scotland: that though she might appear
to (lie, tiiey needed not be discouraged, for slie would
only sleep a little, and in a short time would visit
tliem again, and conduct them to the New Jerusalem.
After her death, which took place, May, 1791, it was
a long time before her votaries would straighten or
dre>s the corpse; nor would they coftln her, until
obliged by the smell; and after that they would not
bury hc-r. but built up the coffin in a comer of the
banv, always expecting that she would rise again
from the dead, according to her promise. At last
the neighbouring country people, shocked with these
proceedings, went to a justice of peace, and got an
order that she sliould l)e buried; so that the famous
Mrs. Buchan was at length reduced to a level with
all the dead generations of her kind.

BUCHAN, William, M.D., a popular medical
writer of great celebrity, was t)orn in 1729, at
.\ncrum in Roxburghshire. His grandfather had
been obliged for some time to reside with his family
in Holland, on account of the religious troubles

which preceded the Revolution. His father pos-
sessed a small estate, in addition to which he rented
a farm from the Duke of Roxburgh. His genius for
medicine was displayed before he could have received
any adequate instruction; and even when a school-
boy, he was at once the physician and surgeon of
the village. Nevertheless, being destined by his
friends for the church, he repaired to Edinburgh, to
study divinity. At the university he spent the un-
usual time of nine years, studying anything rather
than theology. At this period of his life mathe-
matics and botany were among his favourite pursuits.
Finally, he devoted himself wholly to medicine. He
enjoyed at this time the friendship of the illustrious
(Gregory, whose liberal maxims are believed to have
had great influence over his future life. Before
taking his degree, he was induced, by the invitation
of a fellow-student, to settle in practice for some
time in Yorkshire. While established in that dis-
trict, he became a candidate for the situation of
physician to the Foundling Hospital, then supported
by parliament at Ackworth, and, after a fair trial of
skill with ten professional men, was successful. In
this situation he laid the foundation of that know-
ledge of the diseases of children which afterwards
appeared so conspicuous in his writings. Having
returned to Edinburgh to take out his degree, he
became acquainted with a well-connected lady of the
name of Peter, whom he soon after married. He
continued to be physician to the Ackworth Found-
ling Hospital, till parliament, becoming convinced
of the bad effects of such an institution, withdrew
the annual grant of /'6o,coo, upon which it had
hitherto been supported. He then removed to
Sheffield, where for some time he enjoyed extensive
practice. He appears to have spent the years be-
tween 1762 and 1766 in this town. He then com-
menced practice at Edinburgh, and for several years
was very well employed, though it was allowed that
he might have enjoyed much more business, if his
convivial habits had not distracted so much of his
attention. He was not, however, anxious for an
extensive practice. Having for a considerable time
directed his attention to a digest of popular medical
knowledge, he published, in 1769, his work entitled
'■^Domestic Mi-dicinc; or, the Family Physician — being
an attempt to render the medical art more generally
useful, by showing people what is in their own jiowcr,
both with respect to the prevention and cure of
diseases: chiefly calculated to recommend a proper
attention to regimen and simple medicines." This
work, which had been much indebted, in respect of
its composition, to the ingenious William Smellie,
was published by Balfour, an eminent bookseller at
Edinburgh, at the price of six shillings; antl such
was its success, that "the first edition," .-ays the
author, "of 5CXX) copies, was entirely sold oft m a
lOriicr of Britain, before another couM be got ready.
The second edition appeared in 1772, "with con-
siderable additions." The Domestic Mcaicmc i-
con.structcd on a j^lan similar to that aiUjj'teil b_\-
Tissot in his A-.'is au Pcitflc. It aiipeak<i t'l the
wants and wishes of so large a class oi th.c Luni-
munity, that, considering it to h.ive lieen i!;e tir>t
work of the kind published in Britain, tl'.cre i> no
wonder that it should have attained Mich >ucce>>.
Before the death of the author, in 1S05, nineteen
large editions liad been sold, by which tlie_]H;l.!i-her>
were supposed to realize annual!)' alx.iut ^.700. being
exactly the sum which they are >aid to h.'.\e L;;ven at
first for the copyright. The learned 1 >r.i lanil^ of
Paris, physician to the Count d'Artoi> (Charlo X.i,
published' an elegant translation in five volume^
with some excellent r.ote>. w h;^h rendered the work

228

DUGALD BUCHANAN.

so popular on the Continent, that in a short time no
language in Christendom, not even the Russian,
wanted its translation. It would almost appear that
the work met with more undivided applause on the
Continent than in Britain. AVhile rriany English
and Scottish physicians conceived that it was as apt
to generate as to cure or prevent diseases, by in-
spiring the minds of readers with hypochondriacal
notions, those of other countries entertainetl no such
suspicions. Among the testimonies of approbation
which Dr. Buchan received from abroad, was a huge
gold medallion, sent by the Empress Catherine of
Russia, with a complimentary letter. The work is
said to have become more popular in America and
the West Indies than in the elder hemisphere.
The reputation which the author thus acquired
induced him to remove to London, where for many
years he enjoyed a lucrative practice, though not so
great as it might have been made by a more jsrudent
man. It was his custom to resort daily to the
Chapter coffee-house, near .St. Paul's, where lie
partly spent his time in conversation witli literary
and eminent men, and j^artly in giving advice to
patients, who here resorted to him in great numbers,
exactly as if it had l)een his own house. At one
time he delivered lectures on natural philosophy,
which he iUustrated by an excellent apparatus, the
property of his deceased friend, James Ferguson.
And in this capacity he is said to liavc manifested as
respectable abdities as in his character of a phy-
sician.'

Dr. Buchan was a man of pleasing exterior, most
agreeable manners, and great practical Ijenevolence.
He cherished no species of antijiatliy, except one
against apothecaries, whom he liclieved to be a set
of rogues, actuated by no jirinciple except a wisli to
sell their own dnigs, at wliatever hazard to their
patients. His conversation was much courted on
account of his lively spirits, and a fund of anecdote
which seemed to be perfectly exhaustless. He en-
joyed a good constitution, which did not give way
till the 25th of February, 1805, wlicn he died in a
moment, at his own house, while walking between
his sofa and his bed. The disorder was water in the
chest, which had been advancing upon him for some
time, but was, up to the last moment, so little alarm-
ing, that immediately before rising from the sofa he
had been talking in his usual manner. The doctor
left a son and daughter — the former a man of respect-
able gifts, and a fellow of the London Royal College
of Physicians. His remains were interred in tiie
cloisters of Westminster Abljey, next to those of the
celebrated Jebl).

BUCHANAN, DrcAi.i., a Highland jwet of
eminent merit, was born in the early part of the
eighteenth century, in the parish of Bahjuhidder,
Perthshire. In e.irly youth lie is said to li.ive l)een
of a dissolute character; but little is known of him
till he was found keeping a small seho'il in a hamlet
of his native country, and in i)<>ssessii)i) of nuich local
fame as a writer of devotional and jiiinis verses.
.Some respectable persons, struck by his talents, in-
terested themselves in his fate, and obtained for iiim
the suiierior situation of schoolmaster and catechist
at Kannoch, on the establishment of the Societv f^r
Propagating Christian Knowledge. When he tirst
went to reside in that remote (hstrict, the |ico])lc
were so nide, from the want of religious instruction,

' Two other works were published by the doctor: -i. .-I
Treatise on Gonorrhcea; 2. An AriTue to Mothers on thr
subject of their o^Mtt Health, and on tlie means 0/ J'roinot^ni,'
the Health, Stren^tk, and Beauty 0/ their Offspring. Each
in one volume, 8vo.

that they hardly recognized the sacred nature of the
Sabbath. They were in the habit of meeting at
difTerent places on that day to amuse themselves
with foot-ball and other sports. The parish clergy-
man visited them once every three weeks; but, from
the extent of the parish, he seems to have been
unable to exercise any proper control over them.
Buchanan, it is said, invited them all to come and
enjoy their Sunday recreations with him, and when
they arrived, began to perform divine worship, which
he seasoned with a lecture on the sin of Sabbath-
breaking. Though many were disgusted at first, all
of them became at length convinced of their error,
■ and Buchanan in time brought them into a state of
high religious culture, the effects of which are said to
be visible at this day in Rannoch. The education
of this poor scholar was not of the best order; yet he
was acquainted with divinity, natural philosophy, and
history, and possessed a most felicitous gift of poetry,
which he almost exclusively employed for sacred
purposes. His writings, which are unknown to
English readers, and never can be adequately trans-
lated, resemble those of Cowper. An effort was
made to obtain for him a license as a preacher of the
Scottish church, but without success. He was of
much service to the Rev. James Stewart of Killin in
translating the New Testament into Gaelic. Having
accompanied that gentleman to Edinburgh, in order
to aid him in superintending the press, he took the
opportunity of improving himself by attendance on
the classes for natural philosophy and anatomy in
the college. He was at the same time introduced
to David Hume, who maintained, in conversation
with him, that although the Bible was an excellent
book, it was surpassed in beauty and sublimity of
language by many profane authors. In support of
his assertion, he quoted the lines — •

"The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces.
The solemn temples, the great globe itself.
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve.
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision.
Leave not a wreck behind."

The devout bard admitted the beauty and sublimity
of these lines, but said that he could furnish a passage
from the New Testament still more sublime, and
recited the following verses: "And I saw a great
white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose
face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there
was found no jilacc for them. And I saw the dead,
small and great, stand before God; and the books
were opened: and another book was opened, which
was the book of life. And the sea gave up the dead
which were in it; and death and hell delivered up
the dead which were in them: and they were judged
every man according to their works" (Re. xx. 1 1-13).
Buchanan was very tender-hearted, insomuch that,
when he heard a pathetic tale recounted, he coukl
not abstain from weeping. He was equally subject
to shed tears when his bosom was excited with joy,
gratitude, and admiration. In his conversation he
was modest, mild, and unassuming, and distinguished
by great affaljility — always the best and truest marks
of a man of poetical genius. His poems and hymns,
which have been rci)eatedly printed, are allowed to
be efjual to any in the Gaelic language for style,
matter, and harmony of versification. The jneces
entitled La a' B/ireit/icmiais, and A>t Clai^^ioiiii, are
the most celebrated, and are read with perfect en-
thusiasm by all Highlanders. Though the circum-
stances of this ingenious poet were of the humblest
descrijition, he was most religiously cheerful and
contented under his lot. He died on the 2d of July,
I'd'^. under very ]iainful circumstances. On return-
ing home from a long journey he found two of his

CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN.

229

children lying sick of a fever. Shortly after six more
of them were seized by it, together with himself and
two of his servants. While his family lay in this
sad condition, his wife could prevail upon no one to
enjjage in her service, and being herself in a peculiarly
delicate condition, she was unable to do much for
their comfort. The poor poet soon became delirious,
and, in a few days, he and all his family were swept
off, leaving only his wife to lament his fate and her
own melancholy condition.*

BUCHANAN, Claudius, D.D. Few persons
have engaged with greater zeal, or met with greater
success, in the business of the civilization of India, in
spreading the knowledge of the Christian religion
through the eastern world, and in making Europeans
better acquainted with that interesting country, than
the Rev. Dr. Buchanan, who was born at Cambus-
lang, onthe 12th March, 1766. His father, Alexander
Buchanan, followed the honourable profession of a
schoolmaster; and if we may judge from his success
in life, he appears to have been a man of some
abilities, and better qualified than ordinary teachers
for the discharge of the peculiar duties of his office.
Before his death he was rector of the grammar-school

of Falkirk. His mother's name was .Somers,

daugiiter of Mr. Claudius Somers, who was an elder
in the parish of Cambuslang. He is represented as
having been one of those who received their first im-
pressions of religion under the ministry of the Rev.
.Mr. M'Culloch, the parish minister, and which were
confirmed afterwards by the celebrated Mr. George
Whitfield. A certain class of Scottish dissenters
jjublicly declared that all such imiiressions were a
delusion of the devil, and in the most abusive lan-
guage revileti Whitfield and all who defended his
cause. But be this as it may, Mr. Somers and a
good many others became reformed characters; and
during the course of a long life gave undeniable
evidence that they were better moral men and better
members of society.

In 1773 Dr. Buchanan was sent to Inverary, in the
shire of Argyle, where he remained under the care of
his father's relations till 1779. He was early sent to
school; and besides being taught to read English, to
write, and cast accounts, he was initiated into a
knowledge of Latin. When only fourteen years of
age he was engaged to be tutor to the two sons of
Campbell of DunstafTnage. It is by no means an
iinconimon case in .Scotland for young men to be
employed, at that tender age, as domestic tutors in
remote parts of the country, and at a distance
from any school. He continued in this situation
f )r two years, and then repaired to the university of
Glasgow in 1782. Here his funds permitted him
to remain only for two sessions. In 1784 he went
to the island of Islay, and was tutor in the family of
Mr. Campbell of Knockmelly. In the following
year he removed to Carradell, in Kintyre, as tutor to
Mr. Campbell of Carradell. In 1 7S6'he returned to
Clasgow College, with the intention of prosecuting
his studies there, ])reparatory to his commencing the
study of (iiviiiit)-; fur it had always been his intention
to be a clergyman of the ('hurch of Scotland. At
the end of the session, however, he was struck with
the strange and romantic idea of making a tour of
Europe on foot. He seems to have been highlv de-
lighted with Dr. Goldsmith's pcictry, antl particularlv
with his y'rci7'i.'ili-r. Having jXTused some accounts
of Goldsmith's adventures, he became inspired with

' For the greater p.irt of the inforni.^tion cont.iined in this
article I ,-im indebted to A';M"//»ri<» S.rt,y-C>-/t:i-cj. an Acct^uiit
of all tlu Books -f/iiri't Jiai'C h:--ii f'l-.tiicd in tiu- CaclU Lan-
guage. Hy Juhn Keid. Gla-a'^*' '-j--

a wish to attempt something of the same kind. He
could not, like the poet of Auburn, play on the flute,
but he was a tolerable performer on the fiddle, and
he foolisiily imagined that, with its assistance, he
might be able to accomplish what he had so much at
heart.

He accordingly left Edinburgh in the month of
August, 1787. lie had carefully concealed his de ign
from his parents, lest it should be the occasion of
giving them pain, for he seems to have been well
aware in what light his imprudence would be viewed
by others. What road he took, or how long he was
on his journey between Edinburgh anrl Newcastle,
is not known. But he arrived there, as it would
seem, sufficiently disgusted with his undertaking;
for, instead of directing his course to the capital by
land, he embarked in a collier at North .Shields, and
sailed for the metropolis, where he arrived on the
2d of .September. Here he was as much, if not more,
at a loss, than ever. At last, seeing an advertise-
ment in a paper, that a clerk was wanted, after
having suffi;red incredibly from hunger and cold, he
applied and obtained this paltry appointment. By
habits of industry, and attention to business, he re-
commended himself to his employer, and after various
incidents he at last engaged in the service of a soli-
citor, with whom he remained for nearly three years.
This employment, though exceedingly trifling, was
sufficient to supply him with food and clothes. He
describes himself, at this period, as having little or
no sense of religion upon his mind. He did not at-
tend church regularly; and the Sunday was generally
spent in idleness, though at no time of his life was
he given to habits of dissipation. About this time
he got acquainted with the Rev. John Newton of .St.
Mary's Woolnoth, London, the friend of Cowper,
who introduced him to the celebrated Henrj- Thorn-
ton. This latter person, whose heart and fortune
were alike bounteous, was the chief occasion of his
being aftervvards so successful and distinguished in
life. As Mr. Buchanan had now formed the resolu-
tion of becoming a clergyman, though he could not
regularly enter the Church of England, for want of
a university education, Mr. Thornton offered him
the chaplaincy of the Sierra Leone Company, in
which association he bore a leading part. The ap-
l)ointment was accepted by Mr. Buchanan, Ijut. for
some unknown reason, was not acteii upon. Mr.
Thornton, however, generously resolved not to leave
his wanl destitute or unprovided. He sent him to
Queen's College, Cambridge, which was then con-
ducted by his friend Dr. Milner, Dean of Carlisle.
Mr. Buchanan was admitted into this society in 1 791,
and in the twenty-fifth year of his age. It has been
mentioned that he was two sessions at the university
of Glasgow, but it may be doubted whether this was
of essential service to him, so different are the
regulations, customs, and habits of the two c^taMi-h-
ments. He was disjiosed to enter as a sr.ar, iliat
is, a scholar of the lowest rank, the same as s-:n itor
at Oxford; but it was arranged that he slu.r.ld lie
ailmitted as a pensioner, or a scholar w'm") ] ays for
his commons. He distingxiished himsdi at n/.lege
by great assiduity, and though his mind dots nut
appear to have had any ]">articular briit t" the science
of quantity, he devoted some aiieiit;":i to t!ie favour-
ite jnirsuit of the university, tlie lii^'licr Lranches of
mathematics. Having got a tlieir.e or suliitct to
write upon in Latin, he succccicl so wdl as to gain
the most marked comnien^iatio;! i,f !ii> sii; criors;
and he was a]i]iointed to ikclaini in Latin nj'on the
5th of N(ivcml)er, uliich is always esteemed !>y the
students as a singular lioiiov.r — tills day living one of
the most solemn tcstivais of tile vcar. He wa.s also

230

CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN

FRANCIS BUCHANAN.

appointed, about the same time, librarian to the
college, an office of which the duties were more
honourable than severe; and he was the senior
wrangler of his year.

His education being now complete, he was, in
September, 1795, regularly ordained deacon of
the Church of England by Bishop Porteous. He
was immediately admitted curate to Mr. Newton,
which was his first appointment. On the 30th
March, 1796, he was appointed chaplain to the East
India Company, through the interest of the director,
Mr. Charles Grant, who continued to patronize him
through life. Dr. Milner and others now recom-
mended him a second time to the Bishop of London,
from whom he received priest's orders, so that he was
qualified to accept of any situation in the English
establishment. In the month of May he went to
Scotland, in order to take leave of his relations
before setting out for India. He immediately re-
turned to England, and left Portsmouth for Bengal,
Ilth August, 1796. Landing at Calcutta, he was
soon sent into the interior to Barrackpore, where he
resided for some time. India was to him a scene
perfectly new: at this period hardly any decency
was observed in the outward relations of life. There
was no divine service at Barrackpore, and horse-
racing was practised on .Sunday. Of course it was
an excellent field for the exertions of a Christian
minister. Mr. Buchanan having been appointed
third chaplain to the presidency in Calcutta, by
Lord Mornington, preached so much to the satisfac-
tion of hLs audience, that he received thanks from
the governor-general in council. The plan of a
collegiate institution had been for some time under
the consideration of his lordship. In 1800 it was
formally established by a minute in council, and
vested in a provost and vice-provost, with three other
officers. There were also to be established professor-
ships in the languages spoken in India, in Hindoo
and ^Lahometan laws, in the negotiations and laws
enacted at the several presidencies for the civil govern-
ment of the British territories — in political economy,
commercial institutions and interests of the J-^ast
India Com]>any, and in various branches of literature
and science. Some of the learned natives attached
to the college were employed in teaching the
students, others in making translations, and others
in composing original works in the oriental tongues.
This institution, which has been of immense service
to British India, was called the College of Fort
William. .Mr. Buchanan was professor of the Greek,
Latin, and English classics. The translati(jn of the
original .Scriptures from the originals into modern
languages had always been with him a favourite
scheme. To effect a similar purpose, he ])roposed
prizes to be competed for by the universities, and
S'jme of the public schools in the United Kingdom.
These were afterwards more fully exi)laincd in a
memoir by him in 1S05. A translation of the Bible
into the Chinese language was also ]iatr<jnized by
him. In the course of the same year he wrote an
account of the College of ¥i>n NVilliani; and the
universitv of Glasgow conferred upon hini the degree
of D.l).'

In May, 1806, he undertook a journey to the coast
of Malabar, and returneil to Calcutta in iSuy. He
j)aid a second visit to Malabar, and jiowerfully
assist.-d in procuring a version of the .Scriptures into
Malayalim. In March, 1808, he undertook a vnyage
to Europe. Second prizes of /CS^^ each were offered
by him to Oxford and Cambriflge; and in jjursuance
of his proposals, sermons were preached at b(Hh
universities.

In September, 1S08, Dr. Buchanan undertook a

journey into Scotland, where he had the gratifica-
tion of finding his mother in good health. He
preached in the episcopal chapel at Glasgow, and
mentions that the people came in crowds to hear
him, "notwithstanding the organ." He observed
a more tolerant spirit among the different orders of
religion in Scotland than what formerly prevailed.
On his return he preached, at Bristol, his celebrated
sermon, "The Star in the East," which was the first of
that series of able and well-directed efforts by which,
in pursuance of a resolution formed in India, he
endeavoured to cherish and extend the interest he
had already excited for the promotion of Christianity
in the East. In spring, 1809, he spent some days at
Oxford, collating oriental versions of the Bible. He
next paid a visit to Cambridge, where he deposited
some valuable Biblical manuscripts, which he had
collected in India. The university honoured him
with the degree of D.D. About this period he
preached regularly for some time in Wilbeck Chapel,
London, after which he retired to Kirby Hall, in
Yorkshire, the seat of his father-in-law, Henry
Thompson, Esq. His health now began to decline,
and as he was advised by his physicians to study
less unremittingly, he formed the idea of uniting the
recovery of his health, and some share of continued
usefulness, by travelling to the Holy Land, and
endeavouring to re-establish the gospel on its native
ground. I'his design, however, he never executed.
Various paralytic affections, which, one after another,
fell upon his frame, admonished him that his day of
active exertion was past. He was nevertheless able,
within the course of a few years, to publish the
following works: I, Three Jubilee Sermotis; 2,
Animal Missionary Sermon, before the Church Mis-
sioiiaiy Society, yune 12, 1810; 3, Commcnconent
Sermons at Cambridge; 4, Christian Researches in
Asia; 5, Sketch of an Ecclesiastical Establishment for
British India; 6, Colonial Ecclesiastical Establish-
ment.

He had been twice married, but survived both of
his spouses. He ultimately went to reside at Chesh-
unt in Hertfordshire, to superintend a Syriac edition
of the New Testament. Here he died, February 9,
1815, while his task was still incomplete, at the early
age of forty-eight. The exertions of tliis amiable and
exemplary man in propagating the Christian religion
in India, will long keep liis name in grateful remem-
brance, among all to whom the interests of religion
are in the least endeared.

BUCHANAN, Franxis, M.D., author of Travels
in the Mysore, A Hi story of A'epaul, &c., was born
at Branziet, in .Stirlingshire, February 15th, 1762.
He was the third son of Dr. Thomas Buchanan of
.Spital, who afterwards succeeded as heir of entail to
the estate of Leney in Perthshire; and Elizabeth
Hamilton, heiress of Bardowie, near Glasgow. As
a younger brother he was, of course, destined to
a profession. He cluxse that of his father; and after
finishing the elementary ]iarts of his classical educa-
tion with considerable credit, at the grammar-school
of Glasgow, he commenced his medical studies at
the university, where he remained till he had received
his di]iloma. (ilasgow (College has always enjoyed
a high re]nilation for literature and ethics; but, with
the exce])tion, perhajis, of the department of anatomy,
its fame as a medical school has never ecjualled
that of Edmburgh. During the latter part of the
eighteenth century es])ecially, the cajiital enjoyed
a reputation for medical science scarcely inferi(jr to
that of any medical school in ICuropc. I'uchanan
was anxious to secure for himself the advantage of
pursuing his professional studies under the eminent

FRANCIS BUCHANAN.

231

professors who, at that time, more than sustained
the high reputation which Kdinburgh College had
already acquired. Here he remained till he received
his degree in 1783. He soon after was appointed
assistant-surgeon on board a man-of-war, a situation
from which lie was afterwards obliged to retire on
account of ill-health. He now spent some years at
home, in the country, his health being so bad as to
disqualify him for all active exertion, till 1794, when
he received an appointment as surgeon in the East
India Company's service, on the Bengal establish-
ment. 'I'he voyage to India completely restored his
health, and on his arrival he was sent with Captain
Symes on his mission to the court of Ava. In the
course of his medical studies, Dr. Buchanan had paid
jjarticular attention to botany, and its cognate
branches of natural science; and during his present
visit to the Birman Empire, he had an opportunity
of making some valuable collections of the plants
of Pegu, Ava, and the Andaman Islands, which,
together with several interesting drawings, he trans-
mitted to the court of directors, by whom they were
presented to Sir Joseph Banks. On his return from
Ava, he was stationed at Euckipoor, near the mouth
of the Burrampooter, where he remained two years,
])rincipally occupied in describing the fishes found
in the neiglibourhood.

In 179S he was employed by the Board of Trade
at Calcutta, on the recommentlation of Dr. Rox-
burgh, superintenilent of the botanical garden, to
visit the district of Cliatigang and its neigliliourhood,
forming the chief part of tlie ancient kingdom of
Tripura. The extensive and well-watered districts
of India Inyond the dingcs afforded him a wide and
rich field for pursuing his favourite study. The
numerous specimens which he collected in this in-
teresting countr}- were also transmitted to Sir Joseph
Banks, and added to his collection. Part of the
following year Dr. Buchanan spent in describing the
lishes of the Ganges, of whicii he afterwards pub-
lished an account.

In 1800 he was employed by Marquis Wellesley,
then Governor-general of India, to examine the state
of the country which the Company's forces had lately
conquered from Tippoo Sultan, together with tiie
l)rovincc of Malabar. The results of his inquiries in
the Carnatic and Mysore he afterwards, on his return
to England, in 1807, published under the patronage
of the court of directors. This work, Travels in the
Mysore, e~v., extending to three large quarto
volumes, illustrated with maps and drawings, con-
tains much valuable information concerning the
agriculture, laws, customs, religious sects, history,
\-c., of India generally, and particularly of the
interior dei)endencies of Madras. In criticizing the
work the Kdinhuroh Review obser\-es, "Those wiio
will take the trouble to peruse Dr. Buchanan's book,
will certainly obtain a far more accurate and correct
notion of the actual condition and appearance of
India, and of its exi>tnig arts, us.ages, and manners,
than could be ilcrived from all the other books relat-
ing to it in existence."' The reviewer adds still more
valuable [irai^e — a praise not always deserved by
traveller-s in countries comparatively little known—-
when he acknowledges that "everything the author
has seen is de>cril>ed ]>erspicuou>ly, unalfectedly,
and, beyond all '[uestion, witli the strictest veracilv."
Jidinhurgh Re:-ieu\ vol. xiii. ()ct. iSoS.

.Soon after Dr. Buchanan hail fini>heil his survev
of the Mysore country, he changed tlie scene of his
labours from the ^outh to the north-ea>t of Ilindoo-
stan, being aiijiointed, in 1802, to accom|xany the
embassy to Xepaul, conducted by Captain Knox. In
the course of this journey, and lila subsequent resid-

ence in Nepaul, he made large additions to his
f<jrmer collections of rare plants; which, with de-
scriptions and numerous drawings, he transmitted to
Mr. J. E. Smith. It was during this pericKl also
that he collected the greater part of the materials for
his History of A'e/<aiii, which he j)ublished in 1818,
some years after he had retired from the Company's
service. On his return from Nepaul he was appointed
surgeon to the governor-general, and he employed
such leisure time as he had for the study of natural
history, in superintending the menagerie founded by
the Marquis Wellesley, and in describing the animals
which it contained. In 1S05 Dr. Buchanan ac-
companied his noble patron to England; and, in the
following year, was again sent to India by the court
of directors for the ])ur])ose of making a statistical
survey of the territory under the presidency of Port
William, which comprehends Bengal proi)er and
several of the adjoining districts. With thi-> laborious
undertaking he was occupied for upwards of seven
years, after which he returned to Calcutta; and, on
the death of Dr. Roxburgh in 1S14, succeeded him
as superintendent of the botanical garden, having
been appointed successor to that respectal;le botanist
liy the court of directors so early as 1807. But
he was now exhausted with long-continued exer-
tion: his services had been liberally rewarded by
the East India Company; and he naturally wished
to enjoy the close of a busy life, free from the re-
s])onsibility and inquietudes of puljlic service, in
some peaceful retirement in his native land. While
he was jireparing for his voyage home he was de-
prived, by the Marquis of Hastings, of all the
botanical drawings which had been made under his
inspection during his last stay in India, and which
he intended to have deposited with his other collec-
tions in the librarj' of the India I louse. This circum-
stance he greatly regretted, as he feared that the
drawings would thus be totally lost to the public.
" To me," says Dr. Buchanan, in a paper which was
published among the 7'ransaetions of tlie Royal
.Society of Eilinburgh, "to me, as an individual, they
were of no value, as I preserve no collection, and as
I have no occasion to convert them into money."

On his arrival in England in 1815, he ]>resented
to the court of directors his collection of plants and
minerals, some papers on the geograidiy of Ava,
several genealogical tables, nine hundred Indian
coins, gold and silver, a collection of Indian drugs,
his notes on natural history, a few drawings, and
about twenty curious Hindoo MS.S. He then pro-
ceeded to Scotland, where he hoped to enjoy the
fruits of his toil in quiet. On his arrival he found
his elder brother. Colonel Hamilton, involved in
pecuniary difficulties, from which he couM only be
partially relieved by the sale of sucli j'-art-- of tlie
family estates as had not been entailed. I'r.
Ikiclianan, who was himself next heir, Colonel
Hamilton having no children, agreed to ]ay his
brother's deiits, which amounted ahogeiiier to
upwards of ^15,000. His brullier soon alter died
abroad, whither he had gone in the lioj-'e of recover-
ing his health, and Dr. liuchanaii. succceiing him
in his estates. .ado|-.te(l his mother's family r..ime oi
Hamilton. He now fixed his residence at Ler.ey.
where he amused himself witli a'iiiing to tl,e n.itural
beauties of one of tlie lovelie-t sp.its in I'ertl'.-iiire,
such improvements as a cu;ti\aied t.;-;e ai;d an
ample f/rtune enabled him t" ~i;;M/ly. In th:- -weel
retirement he still fiund jilea-v.rc m prosecuting the
studies and scientific jiur-uits wiiiell had eiign.sscd
the bu-ier jiart of his hie. His garlen OLCU]iied
much of his attenti.m; !vj intro.iuce i int.) his gnAind-s
ni.^-tiy curiou- plant-, sI.iuIa-, and iluwers; he con-

232

FRANCIS BUCHANAN

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

tribut'ed largely to the scientific journals of the day,
particularly the Edinburi;h Philosophical yournal,
the Edinburgh yournal of Science, the Transactions of
the Linnaan Society of London, the Memoirs of the
Hibernian A'atural History Society, and the Transac-
tions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Also in
the Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society are
several papers taken from his statistical survey of
the provinces under the presidency of Fort William,
deposited in the library of the East India Company:
these papers, at the instance of Dr. Buchanan, were
liberally communicated to the society, accompanied
with explanations by Henry Thomas Colebrooke,
Esq., one of the directors. In 1819 he published
his History of the Kingdom of A'epaul, already men-
tioned; and in the same year a Genealogy of the
Hindoo Gods, which he had drawn up some years
before with the assistance of an intelligent Brahmin.
In 1822 appeared his Account of the Eishes of the
Ganges, with plates.

Dr Buchanan was connected with several distin-
guished literary and scientific societies. He was
a member of the Asiatic Society of Calcutta — a
fellow of the Royal Society, the Linnccan Society,
and Society of Antiquaries of London — an ordinary
member of (he Society of Scottish Antiquaries — a
fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh — a member
of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and
Ireland, &c. &c. In 1826 he was appointed a
deputy-lieutenant for Perthshire, and took a warm
interest in the politics of the day. His own prin-
ciples were Tory, and he was not a little apt to be
violent and overbearing in discussion with men of
the opposite party. But althouj^h hasty in his tem-
per and violent in his politics. Dr. Buchanan was of
a generous and liberal disposition; he was extremely
charitable to the poor, warm in his personal attach-
ments, and just and honoural>le in liis public capacity
of magistrate. He married late in life, and fondness
for the society of his children, joined with studious
habits, left him little leisure or inclination for mixing
in the gayeties of the fashionable world. He lived,
however, on terms of good understanding and easy
intercourse with his neighbours. His own high
attainments and extensive information eminently
qualified him for enjoying the conversation and
appearing to advantage in the society of men of
liberal education; and to such his house was always
open. His intimate acquaintance with oriental
manners, geogra])hy, anc^ history, made his conver-
sation interesting and instructive; his unobtrusive
manners, his sober habits, his unostentatious and
unaffected hospitality, made him an agreeal)le com-
panion and a goij<l neighbour; while the warmth
and steadiness of his attachments rendered his friend-
ship valuable. The following high estimate of his
character we find in Dr. Robertson's statistical
account of the parish of Callander, so early as the
year 1793: "The most learned ]icrson who is known
to have belonged to this jiari^h is Dr. Francis
Buchanan, at present in the Fa.^l Indies. In classical
and medical knowledge he has few equals, and he is
well acquainted with the whole system (if nature."
Dr. Buchanan carried on an extensive ci)rres]:)oi>(l(.-nce
with men of eminence in the literary and scientific
world; he repeatedly received the public thanks of
the court of directors, and of the governor-general
in council, for his useful collections and his informa-
tion on Indian affairs; and when his f»rmcr ])atron,
Marquis Wellesley, wx-nt as lord-lieutenant to
Ireland he was solicited to ac';f)mpany him in an
official capacity — an offer which his declining health
and love of domestic quiet induced him to decline.
Dr. Buchanan died June 15, liJsy, aged 67.

BUCHANAN, George, one of the most dis-
tinguished reformers, political and religious, of the
sixteenth centur>', and the best Latin poet which
modern Europe has produced, was bom in the parish
of Killearn, Stirlingshire, in February, 1506, "of a
family," to use his own words, "more ancient than
wealthy." His father, Thomas, was the second son
of Thomas Buchanan of Dnimikill, from whom he
inherited the farm of Moss, on the western bank of
the water of Blane, the house where, though it has
been several times rebuilt, still, in honour of the
subject of this memoir, preserves its original shape
and dimensions, with a considerable portion of its
original materials. His mother was Agnes Heriot,
of the family of Tabroun in East Lothian. The
Buchanans of Drumikill were highly respectable,
being a branch of the family of Buchanan of Buchanan,
which place they held by charter as far back as the
reign of Malcolm HI. Antiquity of descent, how-
ever, is no preservative against poverty, of which
our poet's family had their full share, for the bank-
ruptcy of his grandfather, the laird of Dnmiikill, and
the death of his father while in the flower of his age,
left George Buchanan, when yet a child, with four
brothers and three sisters, with no ])rovision for their
future subsistence but their mother's industry. She
appears, however, to have been a woman of excellent
qualities; and by the pradent management of the
farm, which she retained in her own hands, brought
up her family in a respectable manner, and had the
satisfaction of seeing them all comfortably settled.
George, the third son, received the rudiments of his
education in the school of his native village, which
was at that time one of the most celebrated in Scot-
land; and having at an early period given indications
of genius, his maternal uncle, James Heriot, was
induced to undertake the care and expense of his
education; and, in order to give him ever}' possible
advantage, sent him in 1520, when fifteen years
of age, to prosecute his studies in the university of
Paris. Plere he studied with the greatest ddigence,
and impelled, as he has himself told us, partly by his
inclination, and partly by the necessity of performing
the exercises of his class, put forth the first blossom
of a poetical genius that was afterwards to bear the
rich fruits of immortality. Scarcely, however, had
his bright morning dawned when it became suddenly
overcast. Before he had completed his second year,
his uncle died, leaving him in a foreign land, exposed
to all the miseries of poverty, aggravated by bodily
infirmity, occasioned most j^robably by the severity
of his studies; for, at the same time that he was in
public competing with the best students of the
several nations of Europe, who, as to a common
fountain, were asseml:>led at this far-famed centre of
learning, he was teaching himself Greek, in which
he was latterly a great proficient. He was now
obliged to return home, and for upwards of a twelve-
month was incapable of applying to any business.
In 1523 he joined the auxiliaries brought over from
France Ijy Albany, then regent of .Scotland; and
served as a private soldier in one campaign against
the lunglish. He tells us that betook this step from
a desire to learn the art of war; but perhaps neces-
sity was as strong a prompter as military ardour.
Whatever were his motives, he marched with the
army commanded by the regent in person, who
entered England and laid siege to the castle of
Wtik, m tiie end of October, 1523. Repulsed in
all his attempts on the place, Albany soon found
himself under the necessity of recrossing the Tweed;
and being overtaken by a severe snow-storm in a
night-march toward l.auder, lost a great ]iart of his
army; Buchanan escaped, but was confined the rc;..t

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

233

of the winter to his bed. In the ensuing spring,
being considerably recovered, and having completed
his eighteenth year, he was sent to the university of
St. Andrews, to attend the prelections of John Mair,
or Major, who at that time, according to his cele-
brated pupil, "taught logic, or, more properly, the
art of soiihistry," in St. Salvator's College. Bu-
chanan's eldest brother, Patrick, was matriculated
at the same time. Having continued one session at
St. Andrews, where he took the degree of Bachelor
of Arts, on the 3d of October, 1525, being then, as
appears from the college registers, a pauper or
exhibitioner, he accompanied Major to France
the following summer. Mackenzie says that, on
account of his great merits and at the same time his
great poverty, Alajor sent for him, in 1524, anil took
him into his house as a servant, in which capacity
it was that Buchanan went with him to Paris, and
remained with him two years; but this has been re-
garded by the vindicators of Buchanan as a story set
forth for the purpose of fixing a charge of ingratitude
upon the poet, for an epigram which he wrote upon
one of Major's productions, and in which his old in-
structor is termed "solo cognomine major."

On returning to France, Buchanan became a
student in the Scots college of Paris, and in March
was incorporated a Bachelor of Arts — the degree of
Master of Arts he received in April, 1528. In June
the following year he was elected procurator for the
German nation, one of the fiur classes into wliich
the students were divided, and which included those
from Scotland. The prmciples of the Reformation
were by this time widely extended on the Continent,
and everywhere excited the most eager discussion.
Upon Buchanan's ardent and generous mind they
made a jiowerful impression, and it was not in his
nature to conceal it. Yet he seems to have acted
with considerable caution, and was in no haste to
renounce the established forms of worship, whence
we conclude that the reported mortifications he is
said to have met with at this time and on that ac-
count are without foundation. At the end of two
years he was elected a professor in the college of St.
Barbe, where he taught grammar three years; and,
by his own account, his remuneration was such as to
render his circumstances at least comparatively com-
fortable. It appears to have been in 1529 that tliis
office was conferred upon him; he was consequently
only in his twenty-thirii year. Soon after entering
on his professorship, Buchanan attracted the notice
of Gill)ert Kenneily, Earl of Cassillis, then residing
in I'aris, whither he had been sent to prosecute his
studies, as the .Scottish nobility at that period gene-
rally were; and at the end of three years Buchanan
was engaged to devote his time entirely to the care
of the young earl's education. With this nobleman
lie resided as a preceptor for five years; and to him,
as "a youth of promising talents and excellent dis-
position," he inscribed his first published work, a
translation of I.iiiacre's rudiments of Latin grammar,
which was jjrinted by tlie learned Robert .Stephens,

i" I533-

In 1536 James V. macle a matrimonial excur-
sion to France, wliere he found the Earl of Cassillis,
who had just hnislicd his education. James having.
on tlie 1st of January, 1537, marrietl Magdalene,
daughter of Francis I., returned to Scotland in May,
bringing witli him Cassillis and Cieorge Buchanan.
This accounts for the fiiture intimacy between the
latter person and t'ae king, which in the end was
like to have had a tragical termination. Tiie con-
nection lietween Huchannn and the earl seems, how-
ever, not to have l)een immediately dissolved; for it
was while re^iding at llie liou^e of his i>upil, that

the poet composed Somnium or tfu Dream, ap-
parently an imitation of a pf>em of Dunbar's, entitled
How Dunbar was desyrcd to be ane Frier, and a bitter
satire upon the impudence and hypocrisy of the
Franciscans. This piece of raillery excited such
resentment that Buchanan had determined to retire
to Paris, where he hojjed to l>e able to resume his
former situation in the college of St. Barl>e. James V.,
however, took him under his protection, and re-
tained him as preceptor to his natural son, James
Stuart, not the prior of St. Andrews, but one of the
same baptismal name who held the abbacies of
Melrose and Kelso. James, who about this time
was not satisfied with the conduct of the clergv, sent
for Buchanan, and not aware that he had already
rendered himself obnoxious to the I ranciscans,
commanded him to write a satire against them.
Wishing to gratify the king, and yet give as little
additional ground of offence to the friars as possible,
Buchanan wrote his Palinodia in two parts, a covert
satire, which he hoped might afford no ground of
open complaint to those against whom it was
directed. The king, himself a poet, coarse and
licentious, did not at all relish this delicate kind of
irony, and it wounded the ecclesiastics still more
painfully than its predecessor the SoDuiium. Find-
ing it impossible to propitiate the friars, and the
king still insisting upon their vices being fully and
fairly exposed, he at last gave full scope to his in-
dignation at the impudence, ignorance, impiety, and
sensuality that distinguished the whole order, almost
without an individual exception, in his poem en-
titled Franciscanus, one of the most pungent satires
to be found in any language. In this composition
Buchanan had little occasion to exercise his fancy,
facts were so abundant. He had but to embotly in
llowing language what was jiassing before all men's
eyes, for the clergy, besides being rol>bers of the poor,
lived, the far greater part of them, in the open and
avowed practice of the most loathsome debauchery.
Still they were the most powerful body in the state;
and after the death of Magdalene, who had been
bred under her aunt, the Queen of Navane, a Pro-
testant, and was friendly to the cause, they gair.ed
an entire ascendency over the too facile king, who
had not the grace to protect the tutor of his son from
the effects of their rage, occasioned by poems that had
been written at his own express command. Tow ards
the end of the year 153S, measures were taken for
the total suppression of the new opinions, and in
February following, five persons were committed to
the flames; nine saved their lives by burning their
bills, as it was called, or in other words recantiiig.
Among the rest George Buchanan was on tliis occa-
sion seized, and, to secure ample vengeance up( n
him, Cardinal Beaton offered the king a >uin it
money for his life; a piece of supererogatory wicked-
ness for which there was not the sniallot occa.-ii'i'.,
as the prejudices of his judges would intallil'ly have
secured his condemnation, had he been liri>UL:l;:
before any of their tribunals; but. aware nl tl.e
mortal enmity of his accu>ers. he tied into 1 .r.^lar.il.
By the way he happily escaped a ]ie>tiler.i;.d dis-
temper, which was at that time ile-^lating t!;e noitli
of England, and, when he arrived in 1 .i'ii-ii",i. e\-
perienceil the protection nf an F.rgli-li ki.i^iu. Mr
John RainsfiH-d, who li.itii -up;'!ie'i hi- imuiei'.iate
necessities, and pnaceied him tp'in tiie fuiy i.t the
Papists, to whom he wa> ii. iw everywhere o!)!.<'\i'>ii-.
On this occasion it wa> that he a-i'iiL— ed h;m>elt to
Henry \TII. and to hi- niini-ter Cn'mweil. l)"th of
wh<im treated him witii ne,;iect. Several of hi-
little piece> written at tlii- t;nie atte-t the >trait> to
wliich ho was reduced. England at tliat period had

234

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

few attractions for a Scotsman; and it must have
been peculiarly galling to the lofty spirit of Buchanan,
after stooping to solicit patronage among the natural
enemies of his country, to find his efforts despised,
and his necessities disregarded.

Meeting with so little encouragement there, he
jiassed over to Paris, where he was well known, and
had many acquaintances. But here, to his dismay, he
found Cardinal Beaton resident as ambassador from
the Scottish court. This circumstance rendered it
extremely unsafe for him to remain; happily he was
invited to Bordeaux by Andrew Govea, a Portuguese,
)>rincipal of the college of Guienne, lately founded
in that city, through whose interest he was appointed
professor of humanity in that afterwards highly-famed
seminary. Here Buchanan remained for three years,
during which he completed four tragedies, besides
composing a number of poems on miscellaneous
subjects. He was all this while the ol)ject of tlie
unwearied enmity of Cardinal Beaton and the Fran-
ciscans, who still threatened his life. The cardinal
at one time wrote to the Bishop of Bordeaux,
commanding him to secure the person of the here-
tical poet, which might j^erhaps have been done;
but the letter lalling into the hands of one of the
]>oet's friends, was detained till the appearance of a
pestilence in Guienne absorl^ed every lesser concern.
The death of James V. following soon after, with
the distractions consequent on that event, gave the
cardinal more than enough to do at home without
taking cognizance of heretics al)road. Among his
])ui)ils at Bordeaux, Buchanan numbered the cele-
brated Michael de Montague, who was an actor in
every one of his dramas; and among his friends were
not only his fellow-professors, but all the men of
literature and science in the city and neighbourhood.
One of the most illustrious of tiiese was the elder
.Scaliger, who resided and jiractised as a physician at
.\gin; at his house Buchanan and the other professors
used to spend part of their vacations. Here they
were hospitably entertained, and in their society
.Scaliger seems not only to have forgot, as he himself
acknowledges, the tortures of the gout; but, what
was more extraordinary, his natural talent for con-
tradict!'m. The many excellent ([ualities of this
eminent scholar, and the grateful recollection of his
conversational talents, Buchanan has preserved in
an elegant Latin epigram, ai)parently written at the
time when he was about to quit this seat of the
muses, to enter upon new scenes of difficulty and
danger. The younger Scaliger was but a boy when
liuchanan visited at his father's house; but he in-
lierited all his father's admiration of the Scottish
poet, whom he declared to be decidedly suj^erior to
all the Latin poets of those times. After having
resided three years at Bordeaux, and conferred lustre
upon its university by the splendour of his talents,
Buchanan removed, for reasons which we are not
acquainted with, to Paris; and in 1544 we find him
one of the regents in the college of C'ardinal le
Moire, which statitm beseems to have held till 1547.
There he had for his associates, among other highly
respectable names, the celebrated Turnebus and
Muretus. By a I-atin elegy addressed to his late
colleagues, Tastfcus and Tevius, we learn that about
this period he had a severe attack of the gout, and
that he had been under the medical care of C'arolus
.Stephanus, who was a doctor of physic of the faculty
of Paris, and, like several of his relations, was ec]ually
distinguished as a scholar and as a jirinter. In the
same elegy Buchanan commemorates the kindness
of his colleagues, particularly of (jelida, an amiable
and learned Spaniard, less eminent for talents than
ijuchanan's other colleagues Turnebus and .Muretus,

but as a man of true moral worth and excellence,
at least equal to the former and vastly superior to
the latter, who, though a man of splendid talents,
was worthless in the extreme. To Muretus, Bu-
chanan addressed a copy of verses on a tragedy
written by him in his youth, entitled Julius Casar;
but Muretus had not as yet put forth those mon-
strosities of character, that ought long ago to have
buried his name in oblivion.^

In the year 1547 Buchanan again shifted his place,
and, along with his Portuguese friend Andrew
Govea, passed into Portugal. Govea, with two
brothers, had been sent for his education into France
by John HL of Portugal, who, having now founded
the university of Coimbra, recalled him to take the
principal superintendence of the infant establishment.
Aware, at the same time, that his whole kingdom
could not furnish a sufficiency of learned men to fill the
various chairs, his majesty commissioned Govea to
bring a number of learned men with him for that
purpose. The persons selected were George Bu-
chanan, his elder brother Patrick, Gruchius, Gerun-
tajus, Tevius, and Vinetus, all of whom had already
distinguished themselves by the publication of
learned works. Arnoldus Fabricius, John Costa,
and Anthony Mendez — the two latter, natives of
Portugal — completed the establishment, and all of
them, Patrick Buchanan and Fabricius excepted,
had under Govea been teachers in the college of
Guienne. P" ranee at this period threatened to be
the scene of great convulsions, and Buchanan re-
garded this retirement to Portugal as an exceedingly
fortunate circumstance; and for a short time his
expectations were fully realized. Govea, however,
died in less than a twelvemonth, and, deprived of
his protection, the poor professors soon found them-
selves exposed to the jealousy of the natives on
account of being foreigners, and to the unrelenting
bigotry of the priests because they were scholars.
Three of their number were very soon immured in
the dungeons of the Inquisition, and, after a tedious
confinement, brought before that tribunal, which,
unable to convict them of any crime, overwhelmed
them with re])roaches, and remanded them to their
dungeons, without permitting them so much as to
know who were their accusers. Ijuchanaii did not
escape his share of this persecution. Franciscanus
was again revived against him, tliough the inquisitors
knew nothing of that ]:)oem; for he had never parted
with a copy, save that which he gave to his own
king, James V., and he had taken care to have the
whole affair ])ro])erly explained to the Portuguese
monarch before lie set foot in his dominions. He
was also charged with eating flesh in Lent, a practice
quite common in Portugal at that time, and with
having asserted that Augustine's opinion of the
eucharist coincided with the Protestant rather than
with the Romish views on the subject; and two
witnesses were found to declare that he was an enemy
to the Roman faith. More merciful than on many
other occasions, the Inquisition, after dealing witli
I'uchanan for uj^wards of a year and a half, sentenced
him to be confined in a monastery for some months,
that he might by the inmates be better instructed in
the ])rinci]desand practice of religion. J"'oitunntely,
the mfinks to whose care I'uchanan was thus con-
signed were not without humanity, though he found
them utterly ignorant of religion; and he consoled

' Of Muretus's impious book, De Trihus Iiiifiostorihiis, pr
the three impo>t()rs, .Moses, Jesus, and Mahomet, .t late bio-
Krapher of Buchanan has saifl, "It is extremely evident that
such a book never existed." We are inf<irmed, however, that
a copy exists in the MS. collection of the university of
Glas;; jw.

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

235

himself by planning, and in part executing, his un-
rivalled paraphrase of the Psalms of David, which
placed him immeasurably above all modem Latin
poets, and will transmit his name with honour and
admiration to the latest posterity. That this was a
task imposed upon him by his ghostly guardians, is
an idle talc totally devoid of foundation. The pro-
bability is that the poor monks were incapable of
appreciating his labours; but he seems to have
gained tlicir good-will, for he was restored to his
liberty, and soliciting the king's permission to return
to France, was requested to remain, and presented
with a small sum of money for subsistence till a
situation worthy of his talents should be found.

After having suffered so much from the Inquisi-
tion, Buchanan could not be very ambitious of Por-
tuguese preferment, and the promise of the king not
being likely to be hastily fulfilled, he embarked in a
Greek vessel at Lisbon and sailed for England. To
England, however, he certainly had no partiality;
and though Edward VL was now on the throne,
and doing all he could to advance the work of re-
formation, and though some very advantageous offers
were made to induce him to settle in that country,
he proceeded direct to France, where he arrived in
the beginning of 1553. It was at this time that
Buchanan wrote his poem Adventiis in Galliam, in
which his contempt and resentment of the Portu-
guese, and the treatment he had received, together
with his affection for the French nation, are strongly
expressed. Perhaps it would be too much to say
that the French nation was attached to Buchanan;
but many individuals of it certainly were, and im-
mediately on his arrival in Paris he was appointed
to a regency in the college of Boncourt. In this
station he remained till 1555, when he was engaged
by the celebrated Comte de Brissac, to act as
domestic tutor to his son, Timoleon de Cosse. To
this nol)leman he had addressed a poetical tribute
after the capture of V'ercelli, an event which occurred
in September, 1553; and to him also he dedicated his
tragedy of yiphthes in the summer of 1554. The
Comte, who seems not to have been insensible to
this species of flattery, next year called the poet into
Italy, where he himself presided over the French
dominions, and charged him with the education of
his son. Though much of his time had been spent
amidst the tumults of war, the Marshal de Brissac
was a man of a liberal mind, who, living in a state
of princely magnificence, cultivated an acquaintance
with the most eminent scliolars. During his cam-
l^aigns he liad often been accompanied by men of
learning, and had the discernment to discover in the
preceptor of his son powers of mind equal to any
station in society. lie therefore treated him with
tlie utmost deference, often placing him at the coun-
cil biard among his principal olticers, and on the
most important occasions thought it no discredit to
take tlie benefu of his superior sagacity. Wlien
committed to the tuition of Buchanan, Timoleon de
Cosse was only twelve years of age, and he parted
with him at the age of seventeen. He was after-
wards distinguished for his bravery, for his acrpiaint-
ance with military science; and his literary' attain-
ments were such as reflected honour on a young
nobleman destined for the profession of arms. His
short but brilliant career terminated at the siege of
Mucidan, where he fell by a musket-ball, aged only
twenty-six years. During the five years of his
connection with this illu.-trious family, Buchanan's
residence was alternately in France and Italy, and
as his pupil was destined to the profession of arms,
and had different masters to attend him. he found
leisure for prosecutin;^ his peietical studies, and

formed the design, and composed part of his philo-
sophical poem De Sphera, which he addressed to his
pupil. His future avocations prevented him from
completing this poem. He likewise publishe<l the
first specimen of his version of the Psalms, and his
translation of the AlcesUs of Euripides, which he
inscribed to Margaret, daughter of Francis I., a
munificent princess, afterwards married to the Duke
of Savoy. His ode on the surrender of Calais was
also composed while in Brissac's family. But much
of his spare time was employed in a manner still
more important — in examining the grounds of his
religious belief, and settling to his own satisfaction
the great question (that has ever since, more or less,
agitated Europe) between the Romish and the re-
formed churches. That he had all along inclined to
the side of the reformed is indisputable; but he had
never relinquished his connection with the ancient
church, which he had probably thought still right in
the main, though disfigured and disgraced by the
figments and the follies of an ignorant and corrupt
priesthood. The result of this examination, however,
was a perfect conviction that many of the Romish
doctrines were erroneous, that the worship was idola-
trous, and the discipline utterly depraved and per-
verted ; and, consequently, that the necessity of
separation from this church was imperative upon all
who had any regard to the word of God and the
salvation of their own souls: and no sooner did he
arrive in Scotland than he acted accordingly.

As Buchanan's connection with the Slarshal de
Brissac terminated in 1560, when the civil wars in
France had already Ix-gim, he probably returned
immediately to Scotland, though the exact period
has not been ascertained. He had courted, while
he resided in France, the notice of Mar\-, by an
epithalamium on her marriage with the dauphm;
and in Januarv', 1561-2, we find Randolph, the
English ambassador, writing thus from Edinburgh
to his employers: "Ther is with the queue [Man.]
one called George Bowhanan a Scottishe man very
well learned, that was schollemaster unto Mods'"-
de Brissack's son, very godlye and honest.'' And in
a subsequent letter, dated from .St. Andrews, he says,
"The queue readeth daylie after her dinner, m-
structed by a learned man, Mr. George Bowhanan,
somewhat of Livy." Mary had been sent to France
in the sixth year of her age, and her education had
in some respects been carefully attended to. .'>he
spoke Scottish and French, as if both had been her
vernacular tongue, which in some degree they might
be said to be. ^Vith Italian and ."spanish she was
familiar, and she was so much a ma>ter of Latin
as to compose and pronounce in that language, be-
fore a sj)lendid auditory, a declamation against the
opinion of those who would debar the sex from the
liberal pursuits of science and literature. Thi>
oratitm she afterwards translated into French, l.ui
neither the translation nor the original has been
published. Mary was at this time in the full Men 'in
of youth and beauty, and to have such a ]n:pil mu-t
have been highly gratifying to Buchanan, who. \\i;h
all the leaders of the Reformation in ."^cotlar.d, wa- at
first much attached to her. This attacl'.r.ier.t he iui.k
occasion to cxjiress in a highly fini.-hed c] y mi I.atiii
verses, prefixed to his translation of the I'sa'ni-.
which he had just fini-hed, and sent tn the i're>- "i
his friend Henry Stephens. 'I'Ik- exae* ■laie "t the
first full edition of this importar.t wnrk i- \vA kiio\v:i,
no date being on the title: br.t a -cc>>n'l edition wa-
printed in 1566. in which wa^ iiicltiled the .Tath.or^
tragedy o{ Jiphtlus. ( )n the title-i'age <.f hot); the^c
impressions, I'uchanan i-^ st\Ied }\\:ldru7u i:c;tri
suTiuIi jhciL- fi-iiicr/'--, and t!ie paraphra--e was re-

236

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

commended by copies of Greek verses by the printer,
Henry Stephens, one of the first scholars of the age,
by Franciscus Portus, and Fredrlcus Jamotius, and
in Latin verses by Henry Stephens and Castlevetro.
Mary must have been highly pleased by a compli-
ment which carried her fame over all Europe; and,
as a reward for his services, bestowed upon her
preceptor and poet, in 1564, the temporalities of the
abbey of Crossraguell, vacant by the death of Quintin
Kennedy, brother to Buchanan's former pupil the
Earl of Cassillis. These temporalities were valued
at £S'^ Scots a year, and the poet seems to have
held them till the day of his death. Mary's love of
power, and her attachment to Popery, soon, however,
alienated the affections of her friends; and, aware
that he held her favour by a precarious tenure,
Buchanan sedulously cultivated the friendship of the
leaders of the Reformation, which was now become
the first object of his solicitude. In the same year
in which he was promoted to the temporalities of
Crossraguell, he prepared for the press a collection
of satires, Fraires Fratcrr-itni, in which the fooleries
and impurities of the Popish church were treated
with the keenest irony, and assailed with the most
vehement invective, lie also now put the finishing
hand to his Franciscauiis, which he published, witli
a dedication to his friend and patron the Eaii of
Murray. Through the interest of this nobleman,
Buchanan was nominated to be principal of St.
Leonard's College, St. Andrews, in 1566. In
November this year liis name appears as one of the
auditors of the faculty questor's accounts in the
university of St. Andrews, where he had now fixed
his residence. The chamber which he occupied, as
principal of St. Leonard's, is now part of a private
dwelling-house, and is supposed to have undergone
scarcely any transformation. The following inven-
tory of its furniture in 1544 has been preserved: —
"Twa standard beds, the foreside of aik and the
northside and the fuits of fir — Item ane feather bed
and ane white plaid of four ells and ane covering
woven o'er with images — Item another auld bed of
harden filled with straw with ane covering of green
— Item ane cod — Item ane inrower of buckram of
five breeds part green part red to zaillow — Item ane
liunters counter of the middlin kind — Item ane little
l)uird for the studzie — Item ane furm of fir and ane
little letterin of aik on the side of the bed with ane
image of .St. Jerom — Item ane stool of elm with ane
other chair of little pine — Item ane chimney weigh-
ing . . . — Item ane chandler weighing . . ." In
1566, and the two ensuing years, lie was one of the
four electors of the rector, and by each of the three
officers who were successively chosen was nominated
a pro-rector; and in the public register he is denomi-
nated by the honourable title which, in publishing
his Psalms, .Stephaiuis had bestowed on him. As
principal of the college, he delivered occasional pre-
lections on theology, as well as at the weekly meet-
ings of the clergy and other learned men of the
district, held for expounding the .Scriptures, then
styled the exercise of prophesying, and in the general
assembly of the Scottish church he sat as a doctor
from the year 1563 to 1567, in which last year he
had the honour of being chosen moderator. This
same year he published another collection, consist-
ing of lilegiii' Si/vcc Hcndccasyllahi, t(j which was
])refixed an epistle to his friend Peter Daniel, the
learned editor of Virgil, with the commentaiy of
Servius, in which he gives several notices respecting
his avocations, and especially respecting his jjoetical
works. "Between the occupations of a court, and
tlie annoyance of disease, I have hardly," he remarks,
"been able to steal any jjortion of time which I could

devote to my friends or to myself, and I have there-
fore been prevented from maintaining a frequent
correspondence with them, and from collecting my
poems which lie so widely dispersed. For my own
part I was not extremely solicitous to recall them
from perdition, for the subjects are generally of a
trivial nature, and such as at this period of life are
at once calculated to inspire me with disgust and
shame. But as Pierre Montaure, and some other
friends, to whom I neither can nor ought to refuse
any request, demanded them with such earnestness,
I have employed some of my leisure hours in col-
lecting a portion, and placing it in a state of arrange-
ment. With this specimen, which consists of one
book of elegies, another of miscellanies, and a third
of hendecasyllables, I in the meantime present you.
When it shall suit your convenience, I beg you will
communicate them to Montaure, Des Mesmes, and
other philological friends, without whose advice I
trust you will not adopt any measure relative to
their publication. In a short time I propose sending
a book of iambics, another of epigrams, another of
odes, and perhaps some other pieces of a similar
description. All these I wish to be at the disposal
of my friends, as I have finally determined to rely
more on their judgment than on my own. In my
paraphrase of the Psalms, I have corrected many
typographical errors, and have likewise made various
alterations. I must therefore request you to advise
our friend Steplianus not to publish a new edition
without my knowledge. Hitherto I have not found
leisure to finish the second book of my poem De
Sphcra, and therefore I have not made a transcript
of the first. As soon as the former are completed,
I shall transmit them to you. Salute in my name
all our friends at Orleans, and such others as it may
be convenient. Farewell. Edinburgh, July the
twenty-fourth, 1566." The work, of course, met
with his friend's approbation, and was printed in
Paris by Robert .Stephens in 1567, i2ino. We have
already noticed that the poem Dc Sphcra was never
completed. From the above letter it appears that
it was Buchanan's intention to return to it when he
should have finished some others that were in a
greater state of forwardness, and did not require such
a full command of his time as a work of greater
magnitude. Circumstances, however, soon put a
period to these peaceful and jileasing pursuits.

The marriage of Mary and Darnley, the murders
of Rizzio and Darnley, the union between the queen
and Bothwell, the flight of the latter, Mary's surrender
to the confederated lords, her imprisonment in Loch-
leven Castle and her escajse from it, the defeat of
her army at Langside, and her escape into England,
are the events best known of any in .Scottish history,
and it is needless here to enlarge upon them. When
IHizabeth thought fit to appoint commissioners, and
call witnesses from .Scotland for the purpose of sub-
stantiating the charges upon which Mary had been
ex]ielled from the throne, the main burden of the
jnoof was devolved upon Buchanan, who had ac-
cepted favours from the queen indeed, but did not
on that account either decline the task of becoming
her accuser, or perform it with the less severity.
He accordingly accompanied the Regent Murray
into England upon that occasion, having conqjosed
in Latin a Detection of Mid-Vs Actions, which was
laid before the commissioners at Westminster, and
was afterwards most industriously circulated by the
ICnglish court. To the same pen has also been
ascribed the Actio contra Alariam Scotorum Kcf^inani,
a coarse and scurrilous invective, which was printed
in ICngland along with the Detection, but of which
no man capable of reading Buchanan's works will

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

237

believe that he ever composed one line. "The Detec-
tion,^^ says an eminent iiistorian, "is a concise his-
torical deduction of facts, a rapid narrative written
with that chaste and classical precision of thought
and language by which each sentence acquires an
appropriate idea distinct from the preceding, neither
anticipated, repeated, nor intermixed with others;
and the style is so strictly historical that the work is
incorporated in Buchanan's history almost without
alteration. But the Action against Mary is a dull
declamation and a malignant invective, written in
professed imitation of the ancient orators, whom
Buchanan has never imitated, without arrangement
of jjarts, coherence, or a regular train of ideas, and
without a single passage which Buchanan in his
history has deigned to transcribe." The assassina-
tion of the Regent Murray soon after his return from
England, threw the nation into a still deeper ferment,
and Buchanan, strongly suspicious of the selfish
policy of the Ilamiltons, which he regarded as the
principal source of the calamities that now afflicted
the nation, addressed " Ane Admonition direct to the
true lordis maintainirs of the kingis graces authorite,"
in which he earnestly adjured them to protect the
young king and the children of the late regent from
the perils that seemed to impend over them. The
same year he composed a satirical delineation of
the character of the secretary Lethington, entitled
Chameleon, which, througli the vigilance of the
secretary, was prevented from being published at
the time. A copy, however, was preserved among
the Cotton M.SS., dated 1570, and it was printed at
London ia 1 7 10, in the Miscellanea Scotica. It has
been often reprinted since. These two pieces appear
to be all that he ever composed in his vernacular
tongue, and they are of such excellence as to make
it matter of regret that he did not turn his attention
oftener to the cultivation of his native language.
As the hopes of the Protestant party were entirely
centred in King James, Buchanan was in 1570
selected by the lords of the privy council, and others
of the nobility, assembled on occasion of the slaughter
of the Regent Murray, to take the superintendence
of that important matter, the education of the royal
youth. On this occasion he "compeared personally
in presence of the said lords of the council, nobility,
and others of the estates, and at their desire, and of
his own free will and proper motive, demittcd and
gave over his charge and place of master of the said
college (St. Leonard's), in the favours of his weil-
boloved master, Patrick Adamson, and no other-
wise."'

I?uchanan commenced his new duties with ardour;
and the very respectable scholarship which his pupil
exhibited in after-life shows that so far he executed
his ta>k with great success. James had been com-
mitted, during his infancy, to the charge of the Earl
of Mar— anol)lcm.inofthemost unl)lemished integrity
— and lie was now in the fourth year of Ills age. His
governor was Sir .Vlexander Krskine, brother to the
Earl of .Mar— "a gallant, well-natured gentleman,
loved and honoured by all men." The preceptors
associated with Buclianan were Mr. Peter Vouni',
and the abbots of Cainbuskenncth and Drvbur"h,
botli of them related to the familv of Mar. Vount:

1 This is supposed to li.ivc Uccn Mr. Patrick .Adamson.
afterwards .Archblshiip of St. Andrews, Init It docs not apfw.ar
from tho records of the nnivcrslty that he ever entered upon
his new functii>ns. If we may credit Dr. .Maclceiule. .-Xdanison
was .at this time, or at least shortly after it. in France, whence
he did not return till after the Bartholomew massacre. This
nomination, theref ire, w.as pr >l)ahly made in his absence: and
before he coidd order his .iff.iirs abroad and he ready to enter
upon his olfice, other arrangements mijjht have beomc ne-
cessary.

wa.s a man of a mild disposition, respectable both for
his talents and leaniing; and he discharged his office
with a prudent attention to his future interests. Re-
collecting that his pujjil was soon to l>e the sole dis-
penser of puldic favour, he was careful to secure his
good graces, and of course was afterwards emi)loyed
in several political transactions of considerable im-
portance, obtained the honour of knighthoo<l, and an
annual pension of consideral^le amount. The two
abbots, also, were wise and modest, according to Sir
James Melville; but the lady Mar was wise and
sharp, and held the king in great awe, and so did
Mr. George Buchanan. "But Mr. George," -Melville
adds, "was a stoic philosopher, who looked not far
beforehand; a man of notaliie endowments for his
learning and knowledge of Latin poesy; much hon-
oured in other countries; pleasant in conversation,
rehearsing at all occasions moralities short and in-
structive, whereof he had abundance, inventing when
he wanted." The austere spirit of Buchanan wa.i
not to be swayed by considerations of self-interest.
Called in his old age to the discharge of this task,
he seems to have performed it with an entire dis-
regard of personal consequences. The result was,
as we have said, that he certainly succeeded in beat-
ing a respectable degree of scholarship into his royal
pupil, but left James's mind untinged with any re-
spect or affection for his instructor. On the con-
trary, the king long remembered him with a feeling
of horror, and used to say of one of his English cour-
tiers, in the latter part of his life, that he never could
help trembling at his approach, he reminded him so
strongly of his pedagogue. Concerning Buchanan's
treatment of his royal pupil there are preserved more
anecdotes than in reference to any other period of
his life; which, if we are to believe them, show that
he neither spared castigation nor rej^roach. The
master of Erskine, who was the prince's playmate,
had a tame sparrow, the possession of wliich was
coveted by James, and ineffectually entreated from
the owner. James had recourse to violence in order
to obtain what he desired, and the one boy pulled
and the other held till the poor sparrow was killed in
the struggle. The loss of his little favourite caused
the master of Erskine to shed tears, and make, as is
usual in such cases, a lusty outcry. This brouglu
the matter under the notice of Buchanan, wlio,
Mackenzie says, "gave the king a box on the ear,
and told him that what he had done was like a true
bird of the bloody ne.st of which he had come."
A more pleasing anecdote is thus related by l>r.
Irving: — "One of the earliesti propensities wliich he
[James] discovered, was an exce.-sive attachment to
favourites; and this weakness, which ought to have
been abandoned with the other characteri.--tics oi'
childhood, continued to retain its ascentiency iluriiig
every stage of his life. I lis facility in complying
with every reipiest alarmed the prophetic sagacity of
15uchanan. On the authority (.if the poet's nephew,
Chytmjus has recorded a lutiicrous ex])etlient wliicli
he adopted for the purpose of correcting liis ] u] il's
conduct. He presented the young king with xwo
papers which he rerpiested him to sign; and James,
after having slightly interr.igated him ci'i'.ccrr.ing
their contents, re.a<lily appended his signatr.ie t'l each,
without the ]->recaution of even a cur.-oiy pcru-a!.
One of them was a formal tmnsfcrence id tiie regal
authority for tlie term of fifteen (i.-;\s. Having
quitted the royal ]irescnce. one of tin- cininier^
.accosted him with liis u>uai salutatio;-: l-iit to tl.i-
astonished nobleman iie annouiK'C'i liini-eii in ilie
new character of a .sovereign: and with tiiat ha]^]iy
urbanity of humour for whieli he was s.i tii-tinguislied,
he began to assume the !ii 'h denieauour ol ro\altv.

238

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

He afterwards preserved the same deportment to-
wards the king himself; and when James expressed
his amazement at such extraordinary conduct, Bu-
chanan admonished him of his having resigned the
crown. This reply did not tend to lessen the mon-
arch's surprise, for he now began to suspect his pre-
ceptor of mental derangement. Buchanan then
produced the instrument by which he was formally
invested; and, withtheauthority of a tutor, proceeded
to remind him of the absurdity of assenting to petitions
in so rash a manner."

When nominated the king's preceptor, Buchanan
was also appointed director of the chancery; but this
he does not appear to have long held. The same
year he was made keeper of the privy-seal, in the
room of John, afterwards Lord Maitland, who was
deprived for his adherence to the queen. This office,
both honourable and lucrative, and which entitled
him to a seat in parliament, he held for several years.
In April, 1578, he nominally resigned it in favour of
his nephew, Thomas, son of Alexander Buchanan of
Sleat; but this seems to have been done only to
secure the reversion; for in the following June and
July he continued to vote in parliament, and, so late
as 1580, was addressed by his foreign correspondents
as preceptor and counsellor to King James. In the
management of public affairs Buchanan seems to
have taken a lively interest, and to have been equally
consulted as a politician and a scholar. Accordingly,
in 1578, we find him forming one of a numerous com-
mission, among whom was another poet and scholar.
Archbishop Adamson, appointed to examine and
digest the existing laws — a most desirable object —
but one that from its difficulty was never carried fully
into effect. He was also included in two commis-
sions for the improvement of education. The first
was to rectify an inconvenience arising from the use
of different grammars in the schools. Of the com-
mittee appointed for this purpose Buchanan was
president, and the other members were Messrs. Peter
Young, Andrew Sympson, and James Carmichael.
They met in .Stirling Palace, and were entertained
during the continuance of their labours at the charge
of the king. Having declared all the grammars in
use defective, they resolved that three of their
number should compile a new one. To Sympson
were assigned the rudiments; to Carmichael what is
improperly termed etymolog)'; and to Buchanan the
department of prosody. Their respective tracts were
committed to the press, and authorized by an order
of the king and council; but they continued to be
standards of instruction for a very short time, and
have long been utterly forgotten. The second com-
mission to which we have referred was appointed by
the parliament of 1578 to visit the colleges, to reform
such things astended to Popery, to displaceunqualified
persons, and to estal)lisli such persons therein as they
should judge fit for the education of youth. The
university of St. Andrews was thesul)jcct of tlie first
experiment. Having found many tilings to alter and
redress, the commissioners prepared a scheme of
reformation, which was ratified by parliament. This
document, written in the Scottish tongue l)y Oeorge
Buchanan, is still preserved. The plan of improve-
ment is skilfully delineated, and evidently pre-
supposes that there was no want of learned men in
the nation; but it was never carried into effect.

With the regents Murray, Lennox, and Mar, Bu-
chanan was cordially united; but Morton in the end
forfeited his good-will by the plans of self-aggran-
dizement which he so sedulously pursued;' and it was

' Sir James Melville assigns adirfercnt, and perhaps eqvially
powerful, reason for Buchanan's disagreement with Morion:
"He [jecame l!ie Earl of Morton's great enemy, for that a nag

principally by his advice and that of Sir Alexander
Erskine that Morton was deposed, and the reins of
government put into the king's hands, though he was
yet only in his twelfth year. He was of course a
member of the privy-council appointed for the young
monarch, but seems to have been displaced on Morton's
return to power; and we are uncertain if he ever again
held any political office. It is probably to this short
period of political influence that we are to ascribe the
following anecdote of Buchanan, related by Dr.
Gilbert Stuart in his Observations concerning tlie
Public Law and the Constitutioncil History of Scotland:
— "In feudal times," that writer observes, "when
the sovereign upon his advancement to the royalty
was to swear fidelity to his subjects, and to pay
homage to the laws, he delivered his naked sword
into the hands of the high constable. ' Use this in
my defence,' said he, 'while I support the interests
of my people; use it to my destruction when I forsake
them.' In allusion to this form, Buchanan made a
naked sword to be represented on the money coined
in the minority of James VI., with these words. Fro
nie; si mereor, i7t me.''''

A list of twenty-four Scotsmen has been preserved,
whom, on the king's assuming the reins of govern-
ment, Elizabeth thought it necessary to attach to her
interest by pensions, and among these Buchanan stands
at ;{^ioo per year — no contemptible sum in those days
— and the same that was assigned to some of the first
nobles of the land. There is no evidence that he
ever received this gratuity, or that it was offered to
him. Mackenzie, however, states it as a certainty,
and adds that the composition of his De Jure Regni
apud Scotos was the grateful service he performed in
return — an assertion not likely, considering that the
doctrines of this book were not very consonant to the
views of that high-minded princess. The De Jure
was composed principally with a view to instruct his
royal pupil in what belonged to his office.

In 1576 he prepared his Baptistcs, and dedicated
it to the young king, with a freedom of sentiment
bordering upon disrespect, which is to be regretted,
because, if his lessons had been conveyed in a less
dictatorial manner, there would have been more
likelihood of their being attended with advantage.
"This trifle may seem," he says, "to have a more
important reference to you, because it clearly discloses
the punishment of tyrants, and the misery which
awaits them even when their prosperity is at the
highest. .Such knowledge I consider it not only
expedient but necessary that you should acquire, in
order that you may early begin to hate what you
ought always to shun: and I wish this work to remain
as a witness to posterity that, if impelled by evil
counsellors, or suffering the licentiousness of royalty
to prevail over a virtuous education, you should here-
after be guilty of any improper conduct, the fault
may be imputed not to your preceptors, but to you
who have not obeyed their salutary admonitions."
Tiiree years after, in 1579, he published the above-
mentioned compendium of political philosophy, the
professed object of which is to delineate the rigjits of
the Scottish crown. The origin of the work, which
is sufficiently remote from that assigned by Mackenzie,
is fully detailed in the dedication to the king, which
is of so peculiar a character, that it would be un]iar-
donable to pass it over. ".Several years ago," he
begins, "when our affairs were in a most turbulent

of his chanced to be taken from his servant during the civil
troubles, and w.as bought by the regent, who had no will to
part with the said horse, because he w.as sure-footed and easy;
but because he would not part with him, from being the
regent's great friend, he became his mortal enemy, and from
that time forth spoke evil of him at all limes and upon all
occabions,"

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

239

condition, I composed a dialogue on the prerogatives
of the Scottish crown, in which I endeavoured to
explain, from their very cradle, if I may adopt that
expression, the reciprocal rights and privileges of
kings and their subjects. Although the work seemed
to be of some immediate utility by silencing certain
individuals, who, with importunate clamours, rather
inveighed against the existing state of things than
examined what was conformable to the stand.ird of
reason, yet in consequence of returning tranquillity,
I willingly consecrated my arms to public concord.
But having lately met with this disputation among
my papers, and supposed it to contain many precepts
necessary for your tender age (especially as it is so
conspicuously elevated in the scale of human affairs),
I have deemed its publication expedient, that it may
at once testify my zeal fur your service, and admonish
you of your duty to the community. Many circum-
stances tend to convince me that my present exer-
tions will not prove fruitless, especially your age yet
uncorrupted by perverse opinions, a disposition above
your years spontaneously urging you to every noble
pursuit; a facility in obeying not only your precep-
tors, but all prudent monitors — a judgment and dex-
terity in disquisition which prevents you from paying
much regard to authority, unless it be confirmed by
solid argument. I likewise perceive that by a kind
of natural instinct you so abhor flattery — the nurse of
tyranny, and the most grievous pest of a legitimate
monarchy — that you as heartily hate the courtly sole-
cisms and barbarisms as they are relished and affected
by those who consider themselves as the arbiters of
every elegance, and who, by way of seasoning their
conversation, are perpetually sprinkling it with
majesties, lordships, excellencies, and, if possible,
with expressions still more putid. Although the
bounty of nature and the instruction of your governors
may at present secure you against this error, yet am
I compelled to entertain some slight degree of suspi-
cion, lest evil communication — the alluring nurse of
the vices — should lend an unhappy impulse to your
still tender mind, especially as I am not ignorant
with what facility the external senses yield to seduc-
tion. I have therefore sent you this treatise, not
only as a monitor, but even as an importunate and
sometimes impudent dun, wlio in this turn of life
may convey you beyond the rocks of adulation, and
may not merely offer you advice, but confine you to
the path which you have entered; and if you should
chance to deviate, may reprehend you, and recall
your steps. If you obey this monitor, you will insure
tranquillity to yourself and to your subjects, and will
transmit a brilliant reputation to the most remote
posterity." The eagerness w-ith which this work was
sought after by those of Buchanan's own principles
on the Continent is manifested by a letter from one
of his correspondents. "Your dialogue Dc Jure
Rc:;)n," says this epistle, "which you transmitted to
meljyZolcher, the letter-carrierof ourfriendSturmius,
I have received — a present which would be extremely
agreeable to me if the importunate entreaties of some
persons did not prevent me from enjoying it; for the
moment it was delivered into my hand Dr. \ViIson
requested the loan of it; he yielded it to the impor-
tunity of the chancellor, from whom the treasurer
procured a perusal of it, and has nf)t yet returned it ;
so that, to this day, it has never been in my custody."
-A.midst multiplied labours Buchanan was now
borne down with the load of years, aggravated by
the encroachments of disease. His poetical studies
seem now to have been entirely suspended, Init his
history of Scotland was uiiftni>licd, and was jiro-
bably still receiving short additions or finishing
touches. His life, too, at the request of his friend-,

he compiled when he had reached his seventy-fourth
year, and his epistolary correspondence, which was at
one time very extensive, was still continued with some
of the friends of his earlier days. He had been
long in the habit of writing annually, by some of the
Bordeaux merchants, to his old friend and colleague
Vinetus, and one of these letters, written in March,
1581, the year before his death, gives a not unpleas-
ing picture of his state of feeling. " Upon receiving
accounts of you," he says, "by the merchants who
return from your courts, I am filled with delight,
and seem to enjoy a kind of second youth, for I am
there apprised that some remnants of the Portu-
guese peregrinations still exist. As I have now
attained to the seventy-fifth year of my age, I some-
times call to remembrance through what l(jils and in-
quietudes I have sailed past all those objects which
men commonly regard as pleasing, and have at
length struck upon that rock beyond which, as the
ninetieth psalm very truly avers, nothing remains
but labour and sorrow. The only consolation that
now awaits me, is to pause with delight on the
recollection of my coeval friends, of whom you are
almost the only one who still survives. Although
you are not, as I presume, inferior to me in years,
you are yet capable of benefiting your country- by
your exertion and counsel, and even of prolonging,
by your learned compositions, your life to a future
age. But I have long bade adieu to letters. It is
now the only object of my solicitude, that I may
remove with as little noise as possible from the
society of my ill-assorted companions — that I who
am already dead, may relinquish the fellowship of
the living. In the meantime I transmit to you the
youngest of my literary offspring, in order that
when you discover it to be the drivelling chikl
of age, you may be less anxious about its brothers.
I understand that Henry Wardlaw, a young man
of our nation, and the descendant of a good family,
is prosecuting his studies in your seminary with x\u
inconsiderable application. Although I am aware
of your habitual politeness, and you are not ignorajit
that foreigners are peculiarly entitled to your atten-
tion, yet I am desirous he should find that cur
ancient familiarity recommends him to your favour."
Thuanus, who had seen this epistle in the possession
of the venerable old man to whom it was addressed,
says it was written with a tremulous hand, but in a
generous style.

The last of Buchanan's productions was his history
of Scotland, which it is doubtful whether he lived
to see ushered fairly into the world or not. By the
following letter to Mr. Randolph, dated at .Stirling
in the month of August, 1577, it would apjiear that
this work was then in a state of great forwardness:
"Maister, I haif resavit diverse letters from you, and
yit I haif ansourit to naine of thayme, of the quhylke
albiet I haif mony excu^is, as age, forgetfuhu--.
besines, and desease, yit I wyl use nane as r.^ 'W
except my sweirness and your gentilness. and geil
ye thynk nane of theise sufficient, content }ini w i;h
ane confession of the fait wtout fear of jiunnitiou in
follow on my onkindness. As for the jire>ent. 1 nm
occupiit in wrytiiig of our historic, being .'->-'.;r:t tn
content few and to displease mony tharilir' i\v. A--
to the end of it, yf ye gett it not or thy- winter l)e
passit, lippen not for it, nor nane cjther w rityi,;,'-
from me. The re<t of my occujxr.i' m i- v.y.h ti.e
gout, quhylk haldis me bu-y h.rJi day and nyt.
.•\nd quhair ye say ye b.aif not lang to lyii. I tnii-t
to God to go before y.iu. albeit I be on fu: ?.\\ 1 ye
ryd the post [Randolph was { . i-t-nia-ter to tl;e
queen's grace oi Kngland] ]T.iyin yoii a's n.n to
dii^post my host at X-.-werk, ]'>\\c of Kilsterne.

240

GEORGE BUCHANAN.

Thys I pray you, partly for his awyne sake, quhame
I thot aue gude fellow, and partly at request of syk
as I dare not refuse, and thus I take my leif shortly
at you now, and my lang leif quhen God pleasis,
committing you to the protection of the Almyty."
By this letter it is evident that he expected to publish
his history immediately. A long delay, however,
took place; for when, in September, 1581, he was
visited by Andrew Melville, James Melville, and
his cousin Thomas Buchanan, the work was only
then printing. Of this visit, James Melville has left
a most interesting account. "That September in
tyme of vacans, my uncle Mr. Andro, Mr. Thomas
Buchanan, and I, heiring yt Mr. George Buchanan
was weak, and his historic under ye press, past ower
to Edinbro annes earand to visit him and sie ye
wark. When we cam to his chalmer we fand him
sitting in his charre teatching his young man that
servit him in his chalmer to spel a, b, al); e, b, eb,
&c. After salutation, Mr. Andro says, 'I sie, sir,
ye are not ydle.' 'Better,' quoth he, 'than stelling
sheep or sitting ydle, whilk is als ill.' Yrefter he
shew ws the epistle dedicatorie to the king, tlie
quhylk when Mr. Andro had read, he told him that
it was obscure in some places, and wanted certain
wordis to porfyt the sentence. Sayes he, 'I may
do na mair f)r thinking on another matter.' 'What
is that,' says Mr. Andro. 'To die,' quoth he; 'but
I leave that an mony ma things to you to help.'
We went from him to the printer's wark hous, whom
we faml at the end of the 17 bulk of his chronicle,
at a jilace qhuilk we thought verie hard for the tyme,
qhuilk might be an occasion of steying the hail wark,
anent the burial of Davie [David Rizzio]. There-
fore steying the printer from proceeding, we cam to
Mr. Cieorge again, and fand him bedfast by [contrary
to] his custome, and asking him whow he did, 'Even
going the way of weilfare,' sayes he. Mr. Thomas,
his cousin, sliaws him of the hardness of that part
of his story, yt the king wald be oOendit wt it, and
it might stey all the wark. 'Tell me, man,' sayes
he, 'if I have told the truth.' 'Yes,' says IVIr.
Thomas, 'I think sa.' 'I will byd his feide and all
his kin's, then,' quoth he. 'Pray, pray to God for
me, and let him direct all.' Sa be the printing of
his chronicle was endit, that maist learned, wyse,
and godlie man endit this mortal lyff."

The printing of the history must have gone on
very slowly, for though it was printed as above, up
to tlie seventeenth book, it was not finished till
nearly a year after, the dedication to the king being
dated .August 29, 1582, only thirty days before
the death of the author, which happened on Friday
the 28th of September following, when he had
reached the age of seventy-six years and ciglit
month-;. He died in much peace, expressing
his full reliance on the blood of Christ. He was
buried in the Grcyfriars churchyard, a great multi-
tude attending his funeral. A throughstonc, with
an inscri[)tion, is said to have marked iiis grave; but
the inscription has long been invisible, and the ex-
istence of the stone itself ajipeais to be more than
doulitful. An obelisk has, l)y the gratitude of pos-
terity, been reared to his memory in liis native village,
Killearn. His deatli, like that of all men who live
out tlie full term of human life, excited less emotion
than might have been expected. Andrew Melville,
who had often celebrated him while alive, discliarged
the last debt of lettercl friendship in an eU'gant
Latin poem; Joseph Scaliger also wrote an e])ita])h
for him in terms of liberal and ajipropriale prai-c.

Buchanan was never married, and left, <>( cnur-c,
no children to perpetuate his memorj-; and tiinuL;h I
he held latterly one of the great offices of state, and ]

possessed other considerable sources of emolument,
he acquired no great estates, and his whole property
at his death consisted of ;^loo, arrears due upon his
pension of Crossraguell.

A story is told, upon the authority of the Earl of
Cromarty, who had it from his grandfather Eord
Invertyle, that Buchanan, on his death-bed, finding
the money he had about him insufficient to defray
the expenses of his funeral, sent his servant to divide
it among the poor; adding, that if the city, meaning
its authorities, did not choose to bury him, they
might let him lie where he was, or throw his corpse
where they pleased. This anecdote has been by
some rejected as apocr)'phal; but there is no proof
of its untruth, and it certainly does not startle us on
account of any incongruity with Buchanan's char-
acter, which was severe, even to moroseness. He
had passed through almost every vicissitude of human
life, and, stern and inflexible, perhaps he had less
sympathy with human frailty than the weaknesses
of most men require. He was subject to that irri-
tability of feeling which frequently attends exalted
genius, but manifested at all times a noble generosity
of spirit, which made him be regarded by his friends
with a warmth of affection which mere intellectual
eminence, though it were that of an archangel, could
never inspire. By the general voice of the civilized
world he held a pre-eminence in literature that
seemed to render competition hopeless; but his
estimate of his own attainments was consistent with
the most perfect modesty, and no man was more
ready to discover and acknowledge genuine merit
in others. His brilliant wit and unaffected humour
rendered his society highly acceptable to persons of
tlie most opposite tastes and dispositions.

In 1584, only two years after the publication of
the history, it was condemned along with £>d yiire
Rcgiii by the parliament of Scotland, and every
person possessed of copies commanded to surrender
them within forty days, in order that they might be
purged of the offensive and extraordinary matters
which they contained.

We shall close this sketch of .Buchanan's life with
the concluding reflections of his learned biographer
Dr. Irving. "In his numerous writings," says the
doctor, "he discovers a vigorous and mature com-
bination of talents which have seldom been found
united in equal perfection. According to the com-
mon opinion, intellectual superiority is almost in-
variably circumscribed by one of the two grand
partitions which philosophers have delineated; it
is either founded on the predominancy of those
capabilities which constitute what is termed the
imagination, or of those which, in contradistinction,
are denominated the understanding. 'I'hese different
]-)Owers of exertion, though certainly not incom-
]iatible with each other, are but rarely found to
coalesce in equal maturity. Buchanan has, how-
ever, displayed them in the same high degree of
perfection. To an imagination excursive and bril-
liant he unites an undeviating rectitude of jmlgment.
His learning was at once elegant, various, and pro-
found. Turnebus, who was associated with him
in the same college, and whose decisions will not
be rashly contrtjverted, has characterized him as a
man of consummate erudition. Most of the ancient
writers had limited their asi)iring hopes to one de-
]iartment of literature; and even to excel in one
demands the haj^py ])erseverance of a cuJtivatid
genius. Plato desjiaired of securing a r('])utation
l)y his ]ioetry. The poetical attcni])ts of ('icero,
tJiougli less contemptible perhajis than they arc
commonly represented, would not have been suffi-
cient to transmit an illustrious name to future ages.

GEORGE BUCHANAN

SIR ALEXANDER BURNES.

241

Buchanan has not only attained to excellence in
each species of composition, but in each species has
displayed a variety uf excellence. In philosophical
dialogic an<l iiislorical narrative, in lyric and didactic
poetry, in eleyy, epijjrain, and satire, he has never
been equalled in modern, and hardly surpassed in
ancient times. A few Roman poets of the purest
age have excelled him in their several provinces,
but none of them has evinced the same capability
of universal attainment. Horace and l.ivy wrote in
the language they had learned from their mothers,
but its very acquisition was to Buchanan the result
of much youthful labour. Yet he writes with the
purity and elegance of an ancient Roman. Unfet-
tered by the classical restraints which shrivel the
powers of an ordinary mind, he expatiates with all
the characteristic energy of strong and original sen-
timent; he produces new coml)inations of fancy, and
invests them with language equally polished and ap-
propriate. His diction uniformly displays a happy
vein of elegant and masculine simplicity, and is
distinguisiieci by that propriety and perspicuity
which can only be attained by a man perfectly
master of his ideas and of the language in which
he writes. The variety of his poetical measures is
immense, and to each species he imparts its peculiar
grace antl harmony. The style of his prose exhibits
correspondent beauties; nor is it chequered by phra-
seologies unsuitable in that mode of composition.
His diction, whether in j^rose or verse, is not a tissue
of centos; he imitates the ancients as the ancients
imitated each other. No Latin poet of modern
times has united the same originality and elegance;
no historian has so completely imbibed the genius
of antiquity, without being betrayed into servile and
pedantic imitation. But his works may legitimately
claim a higher order of merit — they have added no
inconsiderable influx to the general stream of human
knowlctlge. The wit, the pungency, the vehemence
of his ecclesiastical satires, must have tended to
foment the general flame of reformation; and his
political speculations are evidently those of a man
who had soared beyond the narrow limits of his
age." All these remarks tiie reader will observe
refer to the original Latin in which all the works
of Buchanan, with the exception of the two which
we have particularized, are written. The Dialo.;iie
has been frequently rc]irinted, and several times
translated. Of liie J/istory, which was printed bv
.\lexander Arbiithnot at Edinburgh, 1582, there
have been published seventeen editions. It was
translated into the .'Scottish language by John Reid.
who, according to Calderwood's ^IS., was servitor
to Mr. (jeorge Buchanan. A MS. of this unpub-
lished version is in tiie library of the university
of (Glasgow. .\n<nlicr unpublished version is in the
Briti>h .Museum. In 1690, an English translation,
with a portrait of the aiuhor, was printed in folio.
This version has gone through five or six editions,
and is to be frc([uently met with. It is a clumsv
performance, and gives some such idea of Buchanan
as a l)lock from tlic quarry gives of the highly tin-
ished statue. .\ much belter translation has recently
appeared, from t!)c pen of James .\ikman, Es<[.,
forming the tir-t part iA .liJcrii.ni's Iftsli^ry of Siot-
lau({. It is AW h'lutuir yet awaiting some future
scholar, to give to liis unlettered countrymen to feel
somewhat of the grace and >trength that characterize
the performances ■■1 (.ieorge Buchanan.

BURNES. Sir AirwNniR. This distin-
guished otiicer. wh'-e wiried talents were so avail-
able in the adniinistratiort of the l'>riti-h gcjvernment
in India, and whose premature and violent death 1
VuL. 1.

was so deeply deplored, was bom in the town of
.Montrose, on the l6th of May, 1805. His father, a
magistrate of Eorfarshire, had held the chief ofiicial
situations of the burgh of Montrose, while his
grandfather was brother to William Bumes, the
parent of our illustrious national poet. It is well
known to the readers of the life of Robert Bums,
that the family name had always been spelled
Bumes, and that his father was the first who
dropped the letter e in its signature. Alexander was
educated at -Montrose academy, and having obtained
a cadetship when he left scho(<l at the age of sixteen,
he set sail for India, and arrived at Bombay on
October 31, 1 82 1. So successful had been his
studies for his new sphere of active duty, that at the
close of the year after that of his arrival in India, he
was appointed interpreter in Hindostanee to the
first extra battalion at Surat. His jjroficiency in
the Persian tongue had also been so rapid as to
secure the confidence of the judges of the Sudder
Adawlut, so that he was appointed translator of the
Persian documents of that court, without any soli-
citation of his own. His talents for civil occupation
were soon so conspicuous as to secure him ra])id
propiotion in that Indo-British government, whose
very existence depends upon the superiority of in-
tellect alone, and after having filled the offices of
ensign and quartermaster of brigade, he was con-
firmed in the office of deputy-assistant quartermaster-
general at the age of twenty-one, at which period,
also, he drew up an elaborate report on the statistics
of Wagur, a paper for which he received the thanks
of the governor and members of the council of
Bombay. In 1828 he was honoured by a similar
testimony for a memoir on the eastern mouth of the
Indus; and in September, 1829, he was appointed
assistant to the political agent in Cutch, for the pur-
pose of effecting a survey of the north-west border
of that province. Burnes, who had been there four
years previous, as ensign of the 21st Bombay Native
Infantp*- during the disturbances of that quarter,
returned in his new capacity, and discharged his
task with his wonted ability and success. His ac-
count of this survey is contained in the 7'ratisactwns
of the Koyal (itV;^rcT/-/iical Socuiy for 1S34.

The talents of Burnes as an oriental linguist and
statist, having thus been tested, were sunnnoncd to
higher exertion. In the growth of our Indo-Brit;>h
empire, it was necessary that the Indus should be
thrown open to our ships, but, at the same time,
without exciting the jealousy of those wild tribes
who regarded the river as the ]>ledge of their national
freedom. It was accordingly resolved that this
object should be covertly accom]ilished, by means of
a jiolitical mission ostensibly directed t(j a difll-rei.t
purpose. .\ present of five splendid horses, accom-
panied by a letter from the sovereign of (iie.Ti
Britain, were to be consigned to Ruiijeet .^ingh, th'-
celebrated Maliarajah of the Punjaub; an<i on tl:e
way to Lahore for tiiat ]"iurpose. Lieutenant I'.r.nies.
liy whom the mission was to tie conducte<l. \s.".s to
travel by the circuitous route of SciT.iie. He ^'■."■■s
provided with letters to the chieftains oltlie jT'ivince.
and to conceal the real ]nirpo-e of hi> j..i;r!iey. i.c
was accompanieil by a guard of \\\\\ lice!'" 'i,he<-~.
instead of a troop of liriti^h sohliers. ul>'-e ,'.j ; e.'ir-
ance woidd have raised su-j.ici"n. Tii;;- ji.vi'lei!,
l!;;nies reached the mouth of \\w_ \vA\:- .m ihe 2S-:i
of January. lS3i. He h;i'l n^'W a ii;ff:ct:lt '\\\ \->:w?Aw
task to ] erfinn, f-r tlie .Xir.eers of Senide had
taken tlie alarm, and every i:ii; c !:nunt wa-- thrown
in the way of hi> I'unher ]iro:^-rc-s. Thi~. h'Wever,
was nothing more than what h^.- v.>hed; f ^r. durmg
tile delav of their fei.'ned ncg"t;ai:or.s. he l;ad made

16

SIR ALEXANDER BURNES.

a complete sun'ey of the mouths of the river, and
constructed a map of the lower part of its course; he
also obtained their full permission to continue his
journey on the Indus, instead of travelling by land,
and their assent that thenceforth it should be left
open to the transit of British merchandise. Pro-
ceeding along the river by water, and visiting every
place of interest upon his way, he at length reached
Lahore on the 1 8th of July. As the real part of his
journey was already accomplished, all that remained
was little more than a mere political visit of ceremony,
graced with all the showy forms of an oriental embassy,
and an amusing account of which he has given us
in the third volume of his Travels in Bokhara.
Splendid retinues, with abundance of trumpeting
and cannon-firing, welcomed him into the ca])ital of
the modern Timour; and on entering the palace, he
suddenly found himself locked in the embrace of a
diminutive old man, who was no other tlian Runjeet
Singh himself, eager to do him honour, and who
had advanced thus far to welcome him. After
sojourning till the middle of August at the court
of Runjeet Singh, Burnes left Lahore, crossed the
Sutledge, and proceeded to Loodiana, where he
became acquainted with Shah Zeman and Shah
Soojah, who had formerly been kings of Cabool,
but were now discrowned, and living under British
protection. At Simla, he met Lord William Bentinck,
the governor-general, who forthwith proceeded to
avail himself of Burnes' mission, by negotiations for
opening the navigation of the Indus.

After this successful expedition, Burnes proposed
to undertake an exploratory journey into Central
Asia, and the Indian government having sanctioned
the proposal, he commenced this new and adven-
turous journey in January, 1832. As yet, much of
the interior of our vast Indian empire was liut little
known, and even the charts of many districts that
had been penetrated by Britisli travellers were still
incorrect or defective. One important advantage of
tills journey of Burnes was an addition to the map of
Arrowsmith, the most valuable of our Indian charts,
to which he supplied some of its best improvements.
As it was necessary to pxss througli Scinde in his
route, he had previously olitained ])ermission to that
effect from his powerful friend the maharajah. lie
therefore once more entered Lahore, at which he
arrived on the 17th of January, and was cordially
welcomed by Runjeet Singh; and after a stay there
till the nth of February, he crossed the Ravee, and
having halted one night in a house beside the monu-
ment of Jehangur, he prepared for tlie dangerous
jiart of his journey. It was neces>ary for this purpose
that he should be comjiletely disguised, and there-
fore he assumed the dress and hal)its, and as much
as possil)le the apj)earance, (jf an Afghan. He had
for tlie companion of his journey, Mr. James Gerard,
surgeon of the Bengal army, who clothed himself
with a similar costume; and, after leaving behind
them every article of tlieir luggage that might indicate
their country or purpose, the travellers commenced
their pilgrimage of peril, escorted by a body of
troops provided by the maharajah. They were thus
accom]ianied to t!ie frontier of Runjeet's dominions,
a short distance on tlie further side of the Attock,
where they met the Afghans, by whom they wen;
esc<jrted to Acora. They afterwards successively
reached I'eshawur, Jellalabad, and Cabool ; scaled tlie
lofty passes of Oonna and Hageegak, on tlie latter of
which, 12,400 feet in height at its highest point, the
frost was so intense that the snow bore the weight
of tlieir horses, and the thermometer fell to 4" of
Fahrenheit. On attempting subsequently to sur-
niujut llij pass of Knho, which is a thousand feet

higher, they found it so blocked up with snow as to
be impassable, and were compelled to choose another
route, by wdiich they reached Ghoolgoola, that city,
or rather valley of ruins, famed for its two colossal
statues, the largest of which is 120 feet in height,
and for the hills that inclose the valley, which are
absolutely honey-combed with excavations. They
then crossed the pass of Acrobat; and descending
from the mountains of the Indian Caucasus, they
entered the vast plains of Tartary. At Khooloom,
the frontier town of Moiad Beg, chief of Khoondooz,
the bold travellers were met by a startling message
from that potentate, requiring Burnes to wait upon
him at Kaumabad, a village about fifty miles off.
Obedience was unavoidable; and therefore, leaving
Mr. Gerard at Khooloom, Burnes repaired to
Kaumabad, and presented himself before the chief
in tattered and threadbare garments, under the
character of a poor Armenian watchmaker travelling
from Lucknow to Bokhara. A moment's timidity
on his part, or suspicion on that of the Asiatic lord,
might have cost the traveller his life; but, fortunately,
his statement was believed, so that he received a
safe-conduct to continue his journey, and he left
Kaumabad in the company of a small caravan of nine
or ten tea-merchants.

This danger being thus happily got over, Burnes
rejoined Mr. Gerard at Khooloom. Their route
was continued, and they arrived at Balkh, that
wondrous city of history and romance, with M'hich
our childhood and youth were made so familiar.
Now a heap of mins in the midst of a glory that has
passed away, but still covering an extent of twenty
miles with its fragments; it is a fitting monument of
the many empires to which it has belonged; for here
the Greek, Persian, Arabian, Tartar, and Afghan
have successively ruled. Strange, therefore, have
been the changes it has witnessed since the time that
it was the Bactra of Alexander the Great! After
halting for three days in this interesting compend of
ancient and modern history, Burnes and Gerard
entered the desert on the I4tli of June, and, two
days after, they reached the banks of the Oxus, that
most important of Asiatic rivers, which bounded the
conquests of Cyrus, and all but terminated those of
Alexander. At that part which our travellers crossed,
the river was about 800 yards wide, and twenty feet
deep, where the transit was made in boats neither
impelled by sail nor oar, but drawn by a couple of
stout horses that swam across. Continuing their
course, they reached on the 27th of June the city of
Bokhara, the cajMtal of the country of that name;
a city whose remaining colleges still justify its an-
cient renown for learning and civilization, and the
high encomiums which eastern poets heaped upon
it. After waiting in the neighbourhood of the city of
Kara-kool till the i6tli of August, Burnes and Gerard
resumed their journey in the company of a caravan
consistingof 150 persons and<eighty camels, the former
travelling in very simple fashion, some on horses,
some on asses, and several in panniers slung across
the Ijacks of camels. With this escort our travellers
jiassed the great desert by Merve, and on the 17th
of .September reached the strong fortress of Koochan,
where they ]:>arted, Cierard intending to jiroceed ti)
1 lerat and Candahar, and afterwards return to
Cabool. Burnes continued his journey in tlie com-
pany of 300 persons, chiefly Khoords, I'ersians, and
Turcomans — three of the eleven races with \\hich
the jjrovince of Bokhara is peo]iled — until he had
])assed Hoojnoord, when he continued liis journey
ahjne to the town of Astrabad. He then crosseil an
arm of the Caspian, and proceeded to Teheran, the
modern capital of Persia, where he had the lionoiir

SIR ALEXANDER BURXES GILBERT BURNET.

243

of being presented to the shah. Such is a brief
outline of one of the perilous and laborious journeys
in which a chivalrous love of science enables the
modern traveller to dare and endure the utmost that
knight-errantry has recorded of its ancient votaries.

The object of this expedition having been success-
fully attained, Humes was eager to return by tiie
shortest and safest route to head-quarters, and report
his proceedings. He therefore embarked at Bushire
for Bombay, which he reached on the i8lh of
January, after a year's absence. The information
he had gathered during this adventurous journey,
and which he hastened to lay before the government,
was so valuable in the statistical and geographical
history of these countries with which India is so
closely connected, that he received the especial
thanks of the governor-general, and was honoured
besides with the commission of carrying his own
despatches to England. He accordingly set sail for
London, where his services were so highly appreci-
ated, that he not only met with the most flattering
reception at the India House, but was honoured
with the especial thanks of his sovereign. Fresh
distinctions crowded upon him as soon as the results
of his labours were known to the public. The
narrative of his journey was immediately translated
into French and German; he was elected a member
of the Royal Asiatic Society, and of the Royal
Geographical .Society; and presented with the gold
medal, and royal premium of fifty guineas, for The
Xavii^ation of the Indus, and a yourncy by Balkh and
Bokhara across Central Asia. Nor were these ac-
knowledgments of his services in behalf of science,
literature, and humanity, confined to his own country;
for, on paying a short visit to Paris, he was wel-
comed with general enthusiasm as one of the most
talented and adventurous of modern travellers, and
jiresented with the silver medal of the French Geo-
grajihical Society.

The stay of Burnes at home after so long a
residence in India, was only for eighteen months,
after which he left England on April 5, 1835, and
proceeding by tlie south of France, Eg}-pt, and the
Red Sea, he reached Bombay on the 1st of June,
and joined Colonel Pottinger, the British resident
at Cutch, as his assistant. Only a few months after,
he was sent upon a mission to Hyderabad, to prevent
the necessity of a war with Scinde, in which he was
successful. While thus occupied in that country,
a more important <luty was intrusted to him; this
was, to negotiate a commercial treaty with Do=;t
Mohammccl, sovereign of Afghanistan, and also with
the Indian chiefs of the western provinces. He
reached Caliool on tlie 20th of Sejitember, 1S37.
Here, however, he found that his mission was use-
k-.-^s. from the danger that menaced our Indian
empire through the movements and intrigues of
Persia and Russia, and the likelihood of their uniting
with the Afi^hans, wliile Dost Mohammed, instigated
by the Ru^^ian agent at his court, gave Burnes an
order of dismissal. On his return to head-fiuarters,
it was resolved l)y oar Indian government to replace
their pensionary. Siiah Soojah, upon the throne of
Cabool, a> a ni ore jieaceahle or compliant ally than
Dost .Mohamme 1; and Barnes was sent to the army
to make arrangements in the commissariat depart-
ment, ]iroiiaratory to the invasion of Afghanistan.
While thus occujiied. lie was gratified to learn that
his valuable services had not been forgotten at home,
f )r at Sliikarj^oor he received a copy of the Loudon
Gazette, annotmcing liis ]iromoiion to tlie honour
of knightliood and the rank of lieutenant-colonel.
Before the commencement of military operations.
Sir .Me.xander Burnes was sent or. a political mission

from Scinde to Beeloochistan, that failed, upon
which he regained the British invading army, that
had already advanced, through many difficulties, as
far as the fertile valley of Quettah. Here he had
hard military service in the shajie of a toilsome
march, accompanied with danger and privation of
every kind, as well as in the storming of Ghuznee,
which was only wrested from the Afghans after a
close and desperate hand-to-hand fight of three
hours. After this important city was won, Hyder
Khan, its governor, one of the sons of Dost
Mohammed, who had surrendered himself to the
British, was placed under the care of Sir Alexander
Burnes. Soon after. Dost Mohammed fled from
the kingdom, Shah Soojah was replaced in the
sovereignty, and such was the ajipearance of sub-
mission on the part of the Afghans, that Sir William
M 'Naughten was left as British envoy at the court
of Cabool, with Sir .-Mexander Burnes for his assist-
ant. But, unfortunately, this season of calm was
soon overcast. The impatient Afghans resumed
their insurrectionarj^ spirit, and on several occasions
broke forth into revolts that were suppressed with
difficulty. .Still, however, neither M 'Naughten nor
Burnes seem to have anticipated any immediate
danger, notwithstanding the warnings of Major
Pottinger, for 14,000 British soldiers were stationeti
in Afghanistan, independent of the troops of the new
shah. But, on the 2d November, 1841, the storm
suddenly burst out. At nme o'clock in the morning,
the house of Burnes in Cabool was attacked and
set on fire by the insurgent multitude, and himself,
his brother Lieutenant Charles Burnes, Lieutenant
Broadfoot, and every man, woman, and child in the
building, were murdered. It was the commencement
of a fearful tragedy, of which a disastrous retreat,
and the destruction of 26,000 individuals by exhaus-
tion and the sabres of the pursuing Afghans were the
mournful termination.

Sir Alexander was never married, and was sur\ivcd
by his parents and three brothers. Besides his
Travels in Bokhara, and several papers in tlie
yoitrnal of the Royal Geographical Society of Loudon.
he was author of a work entitled Cabool; Ihini^ a
Xarrative of a yoiirney to and Residence in that City,
in the years 1 836-7-8, wliich was published after
his death.

BURNET, Gilbert, Bishop of Salisbury, and
an historian of great eminence, was born at Edin-
burgh on the iSth of Seincniber, 1643. His father
was a younger brother of a family possessing con-
siderable interest in the shire of .Aberdeen, and was
bred to the law, which he followed with great suc-
cess. He was eminent for his probity, and his
generosity was such that he never took a fee from
the poor, nor from any c!erg\-man, when he sued in
the right of his church. In his morals he was strict.
and his pi ty procured him the reproach of being a
puritan; yet he was episcopal in his judgment, and
adhered to the bishops and the rights of tlie crown
with great constancy, and three several tinie> lie kl:
the kingdom to avoid taking the covenant. < 'r. one
of these occasions he was an exile for >evcral yi.,Ms.
and though his return was latterly connivei! r.t. he
was not permitted t<.) resume the |iract:ce of i!ie l.iw.
btit lived in retirement upon hi> estate in t!ie coun.try
till the Restoration, when he was iinar.otc.l to ke a
lord of session. The nvtlier .'f our author was not_
less conspicuous tiian his fatlier, I'eing a si,ter ot
I.onl WaVriston, an-l. like linn, a great a'im'.rer of
the l'resl)yterian discipline.

In consequence <,f]iis scckisi'in fr en k.-.sin.css. Mr.
Burnet took the cdujafi-jn of h'is -jn in the early part

244

GILBERT BURNET.

of it wholly upon himself, and he conducted it so
successfully, that at the age often years, Gilbert was
sufficiently acquainted with the Latin tongue, as to
be entered a student in the college of Aberdeen,
where he perfected himself in Greek, went through
the common methods of the Aristotelian logic and
philosophy, and took his degree of \L A. before he
was fourteen. After this, much to the regret of his
father, who had all along intended him for the
church, he commenced the study of the law, both
civil and feudal, in which he made very considerable
pn)gress. In the course of a year, however, he
altered his resolution, and, agreeably to the will
of jiis father, devoted himself wholly to the study
of divinity, in which, with indefatigalile diligence,
studying commonly fourteen hours a day, he made
a rapid progress, having gone through tlie Old and
New Testaments, with all the commentaries then in
repute, as well as some of the most approved systems
of school divinity, before he was eighteen years of
age; when, having passed the usual routine of pre-
vious e.Kercises, which at that time were nearly the
same in the Presbyterian and Episcopalian churches,
he was licensed as a probationer or preacher of the
gospel. His father was about this time appointed a
lord of session, and his cousin-german, Sir Alexander
Burnet, gave him the presentation to an excellent
benefice, which lay in the very centre of all his re-
lations, lie refused to accept of it, however, on
account of his youth, notwithstanding the impor-
tunities of all his friends, his father excepted, who
left him entirely to his own discretion. His father
dying shortly after this, and one of his brothers,
Robert, having become famous at the bar, his mo-
ther's relations eagerly desired him to return to his
former studies, the law, in which they assured him
of the most flattering encouragement; but he was
immovably fixed in his purpose of devoting his life
to the service of the church. In this resolution he
was greatly confirmed by the Rev. Mr. Nairn, who
at that time filled the Abbey church of Edinburgh,
and took a deep interest in him. Mr. Nairn was
reckoned one of the most eloquent of the Scottish
preachers, and afterwards became well known in the
west of Scotland as one of " Archbisho]! Leighton's
Evangelists." He was remarkable in his discourses
for accuracy of style, strength of reasoning, and lofty
flights of imagination; yet he always preached ex-
tempore, considering the task of writing his dis-
cour>e> as a loss of time. Young Burnet was his
great admirer, and learned from him to jireach
extemporaneously, which he did all his life with
great case, by allotting a part of every day to medi-
tation on all sorts of subjects, s]ieaking all his
thoughts aloud, and studying to render his exjires-
sions fluent and correct. To Mr. Nairn, also, he
was indebted for his acquaintance with various cele-
brated works, jiarticularly l)r. Mores works, the
writings of Plato, and Hooker's Kcclcsiastical Polity,
l)y the iirinci])les of which he professed to be guided
through life. In 1662 he became acfjuainted with
15isliop Leighton, who, conceiving a great affection
for him, took a j)articular delight in overlooking his
studies. Through this amial)le divine, he Ijecame
acquainted with the primitive writers, going through
all tlie ajjologies of the fathers of the three fir>t cen-
turies, and Binnius' ColUrtioits of Conitnls, down
to the second council of Nice. He had the good
fortune, about this same time, to contract an in-
timacy with Mr. Laurence Charteris. a man of great
worth and gravity, who was not only a solid divine,
but an eminent master of history, both ancient and
morlern, well acquainted with geography, and a
]3rofound mathematician, and who also took a deep

interest in finishing the education of his young friend,
which had been so happily begun, and so success-
fully carried on.

In 1663 Burnet made an excursion into England,
taking Cambridge and Oxford in his way. At the
first of these, he had the pleasure of being introduced
to Drs. Cudworth, Pearson, Burnet (author of the
Theory 0/ the Earth), and More. At the latter place
he met with great attention, particularly from Drs.
Fell and Pocock, on account of his ready knowledge of
the fathers and ancient councils. Here he improved
his mathematics by the instnictions of Dr. Wallis,
who gave him a letter of introduction to that great
]5hilosopher and Christian, Mr. Robert Boyle, at
London. In London he was introduced to all the
eminent divines of that period, Tillotson, -Stilling-
fleet, Patrick Lloyd, Whitchcot, and Wilkins, all of
whose characters he lived to draw in his history.
Here also he had the advantage of the conversation
of .Sir Robert Murray, who introduced him into the
first circles of society, acting at the same time the
part of a faithful monitor, in pointing out to him
those errors and indiscretions into which he was in
danger of falling from his youth and inexperience.

After spending six months in this agreeable man-
ner, he returned to his native country, where he was
again pressed to enter into orders, and to accept of
a charge in the west, which he could not be pre-
vailed on to do. Hearing of his great fame. Sir
Robert Fletcher of Salton, who had been acquainted
with, and had received many obligations from, his
father at Paris, sent for him at this time to his
country-seat, and after hearing him preach, offered
him that parish, the minister having just been
nominated to one of the bishoprics. Burnet would
have excused himself, as he intended travelling to
the Continent, and solicited the place for his friend
Nairn; but Sir Robert would take no denial, being
resolved to keep the place vacant till his return.

In 1664 the subject of this memoir went over to
Holland, and after seeing what w-as most remarkable
in the Seven Provinces, fixed his residence at Am-
sterdam, where, under the care of a learned rabbi,
he perfected himself in the Hebrew language. He
also became acquainted here with the leading men
of many different sects, among all of whom he de-
clared he found so much real piety and virtue, that
he became fixed in a strong ])rinciple of universal
charity, and conceived an invincible abhorrence of
all severities on account of differences in the profes-
sion or forms of religion. I'rom Holland, by the
way of the Netherlands, he passed into France,
where, at Paris, he had the jjleasure of conversing
frequently with Daille and Moras, the two Protestant
ministers of Charenton, the former renowned for his
learning and judgment, the latter for shining abilities
and unrivalled eiixpience. His stay in France was
prolonged on account of the kindness with which he
was treated by Lord liollis, then ambassador at the
l''rench court. Towards the end of the year, how-
ever, he I'cturned to Scotland by tlie way of London,
where, by the ])iesident, .Sir Robert Murray, he ^\■as
introduced as a member of the Royal Society. ( )n
arriving at I'klinburgh, he was waited upon by Sir
Robert I'letcher, who carried him down to Saitt)n,
and ))rcsented him to the ]iarish, which he declined
taking absolutely, till he should have the joint re(|uest
of all the parishioners. This he very soon obtaineil
without one single exception, and was ordained a
jirie^t by the ]5ishop of Iklinburgh in the year 1665.
At Salton he remained for five years, a bright
exam])le of what ]iarish ministers ought to be. He
lireached twice every .Sabbath, and once through the
week. He catechized three limes a week, so as to

GILBERT BURNET.

245

examine every parishioner, old and younjij, three
times in the compass of the year. He went round
his ])arish, from house to house, instructing, re-
proving, or comforting the inmates, as occasion
required. The sick he visited often twice a day.
The sacrament he dispensed four times a year, and
he personally instructed all such as gave notice tliat
they intended to receive it. Of his stipend,' all that
remained abave his own necessary subsistence, he
gave away in charity. On one occasion, a parish-
ioner who had been in execution for debt, asked him
for a little to help his present exigency; he inquired
how much it would take to set him up again in his
business, and on being told, ordered his servant to
go and give him the money. "Sir," said his ser-
vant, probably piqued at his. generosity, "it is all
the money we have in the house." "It is well,"
was the reply; "go and ])ay it to the poor man.
You do not know the pleasure there is in making a
man glad." We need not wonder that such a man
had the affections of his whole parish, even of the
Presbyterians, though he was then the only minister
in Scotland who made use of the prayers in the
liturgy of the Church of England. No worth and
no diligence on the part of individuals, however, can
atone for or make up the defects of a, wretched
system; on the contrary, they often render these
defects more apparent, and their consequences more
pernicious. Few parishes in Scotland were filled in
the manner that Salton was. Ignorant and profane
]>ersons had almost everywhere, through political
mterest, thrust themselves into the cure of souls,
whicli, of course, they totally neglected, to the great
offence of good men like Burnet, who drew up a
memorial of the many abuses he observed among
his brethren, which was highly resented by his
superiors. In consequence of tliis, lest his conduct
might be attributed to ambitious views, he seques-
trated himself almost entirely from the public, and
by hard study and too abstemious living, threw him-
self into a fever, which had nearly proved fatal.
He was soon after interrupted in his pious labours,
by being called upon, by the new administration
that was appointed in l668, in which his friend .Sir
Robert Murray had a j^rincipal share, to give his
advice for remedying the public disorders, wliich
bad been occasioned by the overthrow of the Pres-
byterian constitution, and, along with it, the civil
rights of the people. At his suggestion the ex-
pedient of an indulgence to the Presbyterians, under
certain limitations, was adopted in the year 1669,
by which it was hoped they would by degrees be
brought to sulnnit to the new order of tilings. He
was at the same time employed to assist Leighton,
now made .-Vrchbishop of Glasgow, in bringing ibr-
ward liis scheme for an accommodation between the
conflicting churches. In the course of his journey-
ings to the we>t, he was introduced to Anne, Duchess
<if Hamilton, a very excellent woman, with a strong
bias towards the Presbyterians, which enabled hcV
to influence in some degree the leaders of that bodv,
and rendcreil her somewhat of a public character.
At her Imr.se the managers of ihe college of (dasgow
had occasion to meet with the niini>ter of Salton.
and, the divinity chair b.-ing then vacant, he was
unanimously elected to fill it. .Ml this was un-
known to Hurnet till it was over, and he was again
thrown into much ditlicultv, his friends insistintr

1 As miiii-.ter <if Silt^m. I'uriict rcceivoci in stijien<I from th

I ilrd of S.ilt'n. in i^-y^. /;,J7. !>"■. .si.-nts ciiiial tn £ \^,, 2s. ':,)
>tcrlin^ . ti);jc[hcr uitii ii iuliv. 2 pock-, j lippic-. of wheal: j

II bolls. 2 pecks. 2 litipics. of hc.ir: nml 22 b.'lls, i firlMt, j
1 peck, ■! lipplcs. meal. -A'i'.r;//, MSS. .-lit'--. L;b. siyucd i
''GiLBEKT BlKNEIT." I

upon him to accept the invitation, and his parish-
ioners that he should lefusc it. Leighton, however,
laid his commands upon him, which he considered
as law, and he therefore removed to Glasgow in the
year 1669.

(Jwing to the deplorable state of the church and
nation, he encountered much trouble and many in-
conveniences in his new situation. His principal
care, however, was to improve his pupils, to whom
he seems to have devoted almost his whole time and
attention. On the Mondays he made each of the
students in his turn explain a head of divinity in
Latin and propound a thesis from it, which he was to
defend against his fellow-students, the prc^fessor con-
cluding the exercise by deciding the point in a Latin
oration. On Tuesdays he prelected in Latin, pur-
posing in eight years to embrace a complete system
of divinity. On Wednesdays he gave a lecture of an
hour upon the Gospel of Matthew. On Thursdays
the exercise was alternate: one Thursday he ex-
pounded a Hebrew psalm, comparing it with the
Septuagint, the Vulgate, and the English version;
on the other he explained some portion of the ritual
and constitution of the primitive church. On Pridavs
he made each of his pupils, in course, preach a short
sermon upon a text assigned, upon which he gave his
own remarks in conclusion. This was the labour of
the mornings. In the evenings, after prayers, he
every day read them a portion of the Scriptures, on
which he made a short discourse, after which he ex-
amined into the progress of their several studies, ex-
horting, encouraging, and directing them, as he found
necessary. In order to keep up all these exercises,
he was under the necessity of rising ever\^ morning
at four o'clock, and it was ten before his preparations
were completed for the labours of the day. During
his vacations he made frequent visits to Hamilton,
where he was engaged by the duchess to examine
and put in order the papers of her father and uncle,
which led him to compile the jMemoirs of the Dukes
of Hamilton. The Duke of Lauderdale hearing he
was employed upon this work, wrote for him to come
up to London, promising him such information con-
cerning the transactions of these times as he could
furnish. He went to London, accordingly, and was
received by Lauderdale with much kindness. Put
the impious manners of this nobleman were not
agreeable to him; and he made no use of the confid-
ence reposed in him, except to reconcile his grace
to the Duke of Hamilton, who had assignations given
him on the revenues of the crown, in satisfaction of
some old claims for which vouchers had been found
by Burnet among the papers intrusted to his care;
and in return the Duke of Hamilton engaged to con-
cur \\'\\\\ the measures of the court in the ensuing
parliament.

Four of the Scottish bishoprics were at tliis time
vacant, of which Burnet was offered his choice: lir.t
he foresaw that they would entangle him in ditVieul-
ties, with little prospect of his being able to cllect
anything good; so he utterly refused to accc;! any
of them. In 1672 he ]n-eventeil a breacli be-.wern
Lauderdale and the Duke of llamiltiaii. t.-r\\h:ch his
country certainly owed him little thank-. Ali^-.-.t this
time he published his vindication ."f the ai;i!,< >rity.
constitution, and laws of the ehiiicli aini -•.ate nt
Scotland, wherein he strenuim-ly maintained tlie
cause of Iljiiscopacy, and the illcgn'.iiN ol re-.-tance
merelv on account o{ religion. I hi- uas i'}- the
court reckoned a iiio-t accej);a:)!e service. lIeN\as
again courted to accept of a hi-lio] inc. \\\\\\ tlie jiro-
mise of the first archbi-liov.ric tiiat s!;ould !>ecome
vacant; l)ut he still jx-r-'i-tcd in refu-iiig. In 1673
he went a'-ain to London, in order to c-btain a license

246

GILBERT BURNET.

for publishing his Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton.
He also entertained a resolution to have nothing
further to do with the affairs of state, being satisfied
that Popery was now the prevailing interest at court,
and that the sacramental test by which York, Clifford,
and other Papists, had been excluded, was a mere
artifice of Charles to obtain money to prosecute the
Dutch war. On this occasion he used much freedom
both with the Duke and Duchess of Lauderdale,
pointing out to them in strong terms the errors they
had fallen into, and the fatal effects that would accrue
to themselves and to the whole nation. This, with
his known intimacy with Duke Hamilton, who was
at the time a kind of feeble oppositionist, brought
him into high credit, as possessed of great influence
in Scotland, in consequence of whicli he was fre-
quently consulted both by the king and the Duke
of York, to the latter of whom he introduced Dr.
Stillingfleet, and proposed a conference, in presence
of his royal highness, with some of the Catholic
priests, on the chief points of controversy between
the Romanists and the Protestants, which must have
been highly offensive to that bigoted prince. With
the king he made no other use of the freedom allowed
him than to attempt awakening him out of that
lethargy of indolence and vice in which he seemed to
be wholly entranced, and to revive in him some sense
of religion — an aim in which his self-esteem must have
been very strong if he had any hopes of succeeding.
The king made him a compliment, however, by
naming him one of his chaplains. Having obtained
a license for his Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton,
which was delayed that the king and some of his
ministers might have the pleasure of reading them in
M.S., he returned to Scotland, and finding the ani-
mosity between the dukes of Lauderdale and Hamil-
ton no longer repressible, he retired to his station at
Glasgow. The favour shown him at London awak-
ened the jealousy and exposed him to the rage of a
numerous class of courtiers. The schemes of the
court having been in some instances thwarted by the
parliament, Lauderdale threw the whole blame upon
Burnet, whom he represented as the underhand in-
strument of all the opposition he had met witli.
This accusation drew him again to court in 1674.
The king received him coldly, and ordered his name
to be struck off the list of chaplains. Yet, at the en-
treaty of the Duke of York, his majesty admitted him
to an audience, to say what he could in his own de-
fence, which having heard, he seemed satisfied, and
ordered him home to Glasgow. From this the
Duke of York dissuaded him till his peace should be
entirely made; otherwise, he assured him, he could
be thrown into prison, where he might be detained
as long as the jiresent jjarty was in power. His
royal highness at the same time exerteil himself to
have him reconciled with Lauderdale, Ijut witlioul
effect. Dr. Burnet had now no alternative but to re-
sign his professorial chair, and seek a settlement in
England, or by going Ijack t<j .Scotland, put himself
in the power of his enemies. He did not long hesi-
tate, and would have found at once a fjuiet settle-
ment in London, had not the electors of the church
he had in view been deterred from choosing liim by
a sharp message from the king. This, though at the
time it h.ad the aspect of a misfortune, he ever after
spoke of as one of the happiest incidents of Iiis life,
as it at once set him free from the entanglements of
a corrupt court, whose services he had been so far
engaged in, that, without sfinie such accident, he
might never have escaped from them.

He had now an offer of tlie living (jf .St. Ciiles'
Cripplegate, from the dean and chapter of .St. Paul's.
As he, however, had learned that it was originally

their intention to bestow the living upon Dr. Fuller,
afterwards Bishop of Gloucester, he thanked them
for the ofTer, but declared himself not at liberty to
accept it. Through the recommendation of Lord
Hollis he was next year appointed preacher to a
chapel by Sir Harbottle Grimston, master of the
rolls, though the court sent first a bishop, and after-
wards Secretary Williamson, to inform Harbottle that
he was a preacher highly unacceptable to the king.
In this chapel he remained nine years, during which
time he was elected a lecturer at St. Clement's, and
was one of the most admired preachers in town. In
1676 he printed an account of a conference which
himself and Dr. Stillingfieet held with Coleman and
the principal of the Romish priests; and in 1679 ap-
peared the first volume of his History of the Reforma-
tion, which procured him a vote of thanks from both
houses of parliament, with a request that he would
prosecute the work to its completion, without loss of
time. Two years after this he published the second
volume, which met with the same general approba-
tion as the first. Having at this time no parochial
cure, Dr. Burnet was not in the practice of visiting
the sick as a part of his regular calling; but he was
always ready to attend those who requested his visits.
Among these happened to be a lady who had been
criminally connected with John Wilmot, Earl of
Rochester; and the manner in which the doctor
conducted himself towards her excited a strong de-
sire in his lordship to see and converse with him.
This led to a weekly meeting of Dr. Burnet and
Lord Rochester for a whole winter, which ended
first in the conviction, and latterly, it is to be hoped,
the conversion of that singular libertine. An account
of the whole affair was published by Dr. Burnet in
1 68 1, which, Dr. Johnson says, "the critic ought to
read for its elegance, the philosopher for its argu-
ments, and the saint for its piety." During the time
of the inquiry into the Popish plot Charles seems to
have been softened down considerably, and often sent
for Dr. Burnet and consulted with him on the state of
the nation. His majesty made also another attempt
to bring him over by offering him the bishopric of
Chichester, at that time vacant, provided he would
come entirely into his interests. Burnet, with an
honesty that we fear is but too seldom practised, told
the king he knew the oaths that in such a case he
must take: these he would observe religiously, but
must be excused from giving any other engagements.
He of course was not installed in the bishopric; but
he embraced the opportunity of writing a letter to
the king, which does him more real honour than if
he had held in his single person all the bishoprics in
i^ngland. This letter, so full, so free, so faithful,
and so affectionate, we regret that our limits forbid
us to insert. We must also leave it to general his-
tory to detail the endeavours lie made to save the
lives of Staley and the Lord .Stafford on the occasioia
of the Po])ish plot. I5y his conduct with regard to
the exclusion of the Duke of York, and the scheme
of a prince regent in lieu of that exclusion, he lost
the favour of both i)arties, perhaps not undeservedly.
Yet, in 1682, wlien the administration was \\holly in
favour of tlie Duke of York, a jiromise was obtained
from the king to liestow upon him the mastership of
the Tcnqjle, which was likely to be immediately
vacant; u])on whicli he was again sent for by the
king, an'l treated with extraordinary kindness.
Hurnet himself, however, waived the promise that
had been made hitn when he found that he was ex-
pected, in return for the place, to break up corres-
jiondeiice with all those wlio had been his l)est
Iriends. He fell himself at this time upon such d.an-
gerous ground, that he was afraid of all communica-

GILBERT BURNET.

247

tion with either of the parties that at this time were
agitating the public mind; and as an excuse for
privacy, built a laboratory, and for a whole year
amused himself with performing experiments in
chemistry, lie was at this time offered a living of
;;^3CX) a year by the Earl of Essex, upon condition
that he would continue to reside in London. In case
of having the cure of souls, however, Burnet thought
residence with them an indispensable obligation, and
the benefice was given to another. In 1683 he
narrowly escaped being brought by his friends into
trouble about the Ryehouse plot; and by his conduct-
ing the trial and attending on Lord William Russel in
l)rison and on the scaffold, and particularly by de-
fending his memory before the council, he incurred
the odium of the court, which, from a certain know-
ledge of his integrity, could not fail at this time to be
greatly afraid of him. In the course of this year,
probably to be out of the way of his enemies, he
went over to Paris, where he was treated with great
deference, by the express orders of Louis XIV'.
Here his friends, apprehensive of danger to him at
home, wished him to remain; but as no consideration
could induce him to be long absent from his charge,
he of course returned in a short time. That same
year, however, he was discharged from his lecture
at St. Clement's by a mandate from the king, and in
March, 1684, he was forbade to preach any more in
the chapel at the Rolls. Being thus happily dis-
engaged from all his employments at the death of
Charles II., upon the accession of James VII. he
requested and obtained leave to quit the kingdom,
and went to Paris, where he lived in great retire-
ment, to avoid being involved in the conspiracies
which the Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of
.\rgyle were then forming against the government.
When that business was at an end, he, in company
with an officer, a Protestant in the French service,
made the tour of Italy, and in 1684 came to Utrecht,
where he found letters from some of the principal
ministers of state at the Hague, requesting him to
wait upon the Prince and Princess of Orange. As
the revolution in England was already in contempla-
tion, Dr. Burnet met from these personages a most
gracious reception, and was soon admitted to an
entire confidence. When Dyckvelt was sent over
ambassador to England, with a view particularly
to sound the inclinations of the people, his secret
instnictions were drawn up by Dr. Burnet, of which
the rough draught in his own handwriting is still
preserved. James, in t!ie meantime, was highly
incensed against him for the reflections he had made
on the richness of the Catholic countries through
which he had passed, in an account of his travels
recently pulilished, which, it was su])posed, had had
a sensible effect upon the people of England. His
majesty accordingly wrote two severe letters against
him to the Princess of Orange, and forbade his
envoy at the Hague to transact any business with
that court till Dr. Burnet was forbidden to appear
there. This, to humour James, was done; but
Hallewyn, I'ogel, and the rot of the Dutch ministers
consulted with him privately every day. A prosecu-
tion for treason was now commenced against iJr.
Burnet in .Scotland; hut before this coukl be notified
to the States, he had been naturalized with a view to
his marriage with a Dutch lady; and in a letter in
answer to t lie charges jireferred again>t him, directed
to the Earl of Middleton, he stated that being now
naturalized in llnliand, his allegiance, (hiring his
stay there, uas tr.m-fcrred from hi-i niaie>ty to the
States. This expression was at once laid hold of,
and dropjiing tlie firmer yirosecution, they ]iroceeded
against him for these words, as guilty of high treason, |

and passed against him a sentence of outlawry. It
was then demanded of the States to deliver him up,
or to banish him; but as he had I)een naturalized,
the States refused to proceed against him unless he
were legally convicted of some crime, which, if his
majesty found himself capable of doing, they would
punish him according to their law. To narrate the
important part he performed in the revolution would
be to write the historj' of that great event. By the
Prince of Orange, as well as by the friends of lil>erty
in England, he was treated with unreserved confid-
ence. He had a principal hand in drawing up the
prince's declarations as well as the other public
papers written at the time to justify the undertaking.
But for a particular account of these we must refer
our readers to the history of England. At the revolu-
tion, Dr. Crew, Bishop of Durham, having been
on the high commission created by King James,
offered to resign his bishopric to Dr. Burnet, trusting
to his generosity for one thousand a year for lite
out of the episcopal revenue, and sent the Earl of
Montague to the Prince of Orange with the pro-
posal; but when mentioned to Burnet, he refused
absolutely to have anything to do with it on these
terms, as he considered them highly criminal. He
was shortly after promoted to the see of Salisbur)-.
At the close of the session of parliament, 1689, Dr.
Burnet went down to his diocese, when he entered
upon the duties of his episcopal office with that
conscientious ardour which distinguished his char-
acter. His first pastoral letter, however, in which,
to save betraying the discrepancies of his political
creed, he founded King William's right to the throne
upon conquest, gave so much offence to both houses
of parliament, that they ordered it to be burned by the
hands of the hangman. He maintained, nevertheless,
unshaken credit with King William and Queen Mary
to the end of their days, and employed that credit in
the most praiseworthy manner. He was by the
king, in preference to all his ministers, appointed to
name the Princess Soj^hia Electress of Brunswick,
next in succession to the Princess of Denmark, and
her issue, in the famous bill for declaring the rights
and liberties of the subject, and settling the succes-
sion to the crown; and when that succession was
explicitly established in 1701, he had the honour of
being chairman of the committee to which the bill
was referred. He had also the pleasure, in 1690, of
being a successful advocate for Lord Clarendon, who
had engaged in a plot against the king, and been one
of the doctor's bitterest enemies, at the time when
Popery and arbitrary power were in favour.

During the life of ^lary, Dr. Burnet being gener-
ally one of her advisers, the affairs of the church
jiassed wholly through his hands. After her dcatii,
in 1694, a commission was granted for that purpose
to the two archbishops and four prelates, ot wi.'im
Dr. Ihirnet was one. A commission of the san.e
kind was granted in 1 700, and the doctor still o n-
tiiiued a member. In 1698 he was ai'iminted pic-
ccjitor to the Duke of Oloucester, and, on th.:t oc-
casion, insisted on giving up his bishopric. Kirig
William, however, would not allow him to (;w ~ >:
but, in order to soothe him, mailc anar.L^cinei.ts '.l..".t
he might be at hand, and still have it m hi- ]"-.\Lr
to pay considerable attention t>'l-.i~ lii-ct—j. In t.us
high tnist the bishoji conducted ii;in--j'.: ^ > r.- t" h.-iNe
the entire apj^roiiation >•( the Prince-- "1 I'ti.n.ark,
\vh<-> ever alter retained a ]>ei;;l;a:- a;:c^:. •;; t^.r h;ni,
of V. hich he had ir.anv sen-:i'Ie !> kei.s alter sl;e caiv.e
to the throne, tho'a:;h i;i her i.-.-t ye.-r- lie v, as in
direct and I'pen o]-.])o.-:!iM:i \n hvv ir.ea-r.res. In \hv
year 1099 h.e puliiislied lii- celei'rati'i /-..v/i . ..'.\ ;/ rj
'tiic 7'/!:rty.n:i!L A>:ui:-, aii'i a si.iit t.r..e L^Iuie his

248

GILBERT BURNET JAMES BURNET.

death a third volume of his History of the Reforma-
tion. In the month of March, 1715, he was attacked
with a pleuritic fever, which carried him off, being
in the seventy-second year of his age. He was
married first to the Lady Margaret Kennedy, daughter
to the Earl of Cassillis, celebrated for her beauty and
her wit. Secondly, to Mrs. Mary Scott, a Dutch
lady of noble extraction and large fortune, by whom
he had three sons. Thirdly, to Mrs. Berkeley, a
widow lady of singular talents and uncommon piety,
by whom he had no issue.

From the brief sketch which we have given of the
principal events of his life, it is evident that Dr.
Burnet possessed a vigorous understanding, and was
a man of great piety and unwearied perseverance.
Early prepossessions, however, which, vigorous as
his understanding was, he evidently could not over-
come, made him the dupe of a system antiscriptural
and superstitious — a system whicli, whatever it may
seem to promise in theory, has in practice Ijcen found
cumbersome and inelhcient — a system wliich, while
it provides for a few of the privileged orders of the
clergy, leaves all the rest, together with the great
body of the people, to want, contempt, and ignorance.
What man as a bishop could do. Dr. Burnet, while
Bishop of .Salisbury, appears to have done; but he
was hampered on all hands by insurmountable abuses,
originally inherent, or growing naturally out of the
legalized order of things. His consistorial court he
found to have become a grievance, both to clergy
and laity, and he attended for years in person to
correct it. But the true foundation of complaint he
found to be the dilatory course of proceedings, and
the exorbitant fees, which he had no authority to
correct. He could not even discharge poor suitors
who were oppressed with vexatious prosecutions
otherwise than by paying their fees out of his own
pocket, which he frequently did, and this was all the
reform he was able to accomplish. In admitting to
orders, he met with so much ignorance and thought-
less levity, tliat, for the i^enefit of the church, he
formed a nursery at Salisbury, under his own eye,
for students of divinity, to the number of ten, to each
of whom he allowed a sum of money out of his own
income for his subsistence, and in this way he reared
up several young men who became eminent in the
church; but this was soon discovered to l)e a designed
affront put u])on the method of education followed
at O.xford, and he was compelled to give it up.
Pluralities he exclaimed against as sacrilegious rob-
bery; and in his first visitation at Salisbury quoted
St. Bernard, who, being consulted l)y a priest
whether he might not accept of two benefices, re-
plied, "And how will ycni be able to serve them?"
"I intend," said the priest, "to officiate in one of
them bydeinity?' "Will your deinity be damned
for you too?" said the saint; "believe me, you may
serve your cure by ])roxy, but you must be damned
in person." This (juotation so affected one of his
hearers, Mr. Kilsey, that he resigned the rectory of
Bemerton, worth i^200 a year, which he held along
with one of still greater value. I'he l)ishop was, at
the same time, from the ])ovcrty of the living, fre-
quently under the neces>ily of joining two of them
together to have them served at all, and sometimes
he found it necessary to helj) the incumbent out (;f
his own pocket into the bargain. These, with other
evils, it must be admitted, the doctor lost no ojijjor-
tunity to attempt having redressed, but alas! they
were and are inherent in the system. He travelled
over his diocese, which he found "ignorant to
scandal," catechizing and confirming with the zeal
of an a])ostle; and when he attended his duty in
parliament, he preached in some of the London

churches every Sabbath morning, and in the evening
lectured in his own house, where a number of persons
of distinction attended. So much conscientious
diligence, confined to a legitimate locality, could
scarcely have failed to produce a rich harvest of
gospel fruits. Scattered as it was over such a wide
surface, there is reason to fear that it was in a great
measure unprofitable.

While Dr. Burnet was a diligent instructor from
the pulpit, he was not less so from the press, having
published in his lifetime fifty-eight single sermons,
thirteen treatises or tracts on divinity, seventeen
upon Popery, twenty-six political and miscellaneous,
and twenty-four historical and biographical, to which
we may add The History of His Own 7)>«t', published
since his death. Some of these, particularly the
Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles, the History of
the Reformation, and of his own times, still are, and
must long continue to be, especially the latter,
standard works. The History of His Own Tijne, it
has been happily observed, has received the best
testimony to its worth from its having given equal
offence to the bigoted and interested of all parties.
Take him all in all, perhaps no juster eulogium has
been passed upon him than that of Wodrow, who,
speaking of him as one of Leighton's preachers, calls
him "Mr. Gilbert Burnet, well known to the world
since first professor of divinity at Glasgow, and
after that persecuted for his appearing against Popery,
and for the cause of liberty, and since the Revolution
the learned and moderate Bishop of Sarum, one of
the great eyesores of the high-fliers and Tories of
England, and a very great ornament to his native
country."

BURNET, James, better known by his judicial
designation of Lord Monboddo, was born at Mon-
boddo, in Kincardineshire, in the year 17 14. He
was eldest surviving son of James Burnet, by
Elizabeth Forbes, only sister to Sir Arthur Forbes of
Craigievar, Baronet. For what reason is not known,
instead of being sent to a public school, he was
educated at home, under the care of Dr. Francis
Skene, afterwards professor of philosophy at the
Marischal College, Aberdeen. This gentleman dis-
charged his duty to his pupil with the utmost faith-
fulness, and succeeded in ins]5iring him with a taste
for ancient literature. Pie was the first that intro-
duced him to an acquaintance with the philosophy
of the ancients, of which Mr. Burnet became so
enthusiastic an admirer. Dr. Skene, being promoted
to a ])rofessorship, was the more immediate cause of
his pupil accom])anying him to Ai:iei"deen, and of
his being educated at the Marischal College in that
city. It is prtjbable that he lodged with his precep-
tor, who of course would direct and superintend his
studies. Dr. Skene was a professor in that seminary
for the long period of forty-one years, and was uni-
versally acknowledged to i)e one of the most diligent
and Laborious teachers that ever held the honourable
ofhce.

What contriltued, in a great degree, to fix Mr.
liurnet's attention upon the literature and philcjsophy
of the Greeks, was not only the instructions he had
received at home from his tutor, but that, when lie
entered tlie university. Principal Blackwell had for
several years l)een professor of Greek. This ])erson
was the great means of reviving the study of this
noble language in the north of Scotland; and one
of his greatest admirers and zealous imitators in the
prosecution of Grecian learning was Mr. iSurnet.
l'-st<,'eming the philosophical works transmitted to
us by the ls.oinans as only copies, or borrowed from
the Greeks, he determined to have recourse to the

JAMES BURNET.

249

fountainhcad. Burnet was naturally a man of very
keen passions, of an independent tone of ihinkin;^,
and whatever opinion he once espoused, he was
neither ashamed nor afraid to avow it openly. He
dreaded no consequences, neither did he regard the
opinions of utiiers. If he had the authority of Plato
or Aristotle, he was (|uite satisfied, and, how para-
doxical soever the sentiment miyht be, or contrary to
what was popular or generally received, he did not
in the least regard. Revolutions of various kinds
were beginning to be introduced into the schools;
but these he either neglected or despised. The
Newtonian philosophy in particular had begim to
attract attention, and public lecturers upon its lead-
ing doctrines had been established in almost all the
British universities; but their very novelty was a suffi-
cient reason for his neglecting them. The laws by
which the material world is regulated were con-
sidered by him as of vastly inferior importance to
what regarded mind, and its diversified operations.
To the contemplation of the latter, therefore, his
chief study was directed.

Having been early ilesigned for the Scottish bar,
he wisely resolved to lay a good foundation, and to
suffer nothing to interfere with what was now to be
the main business of his life. To obtain eminence in
the profession of the law depends less upon contin-
gencies than in any of the other learned professions.
Wealth, splendid connections, and circumstances
merely casual, have Ijrought forward many physicians
and divines, who had nothing else to recommend
them. But though these may be excellent subsidi-
aries, they are not sufficient of themselves to consti-
tute a distinguished lawyer. Besides good natural
abilities, the most severe application, ami uncommon
diligence in the accjuisitiun of extensive legal know-
ledge, are absolutely necessary. At every step the
neophyte is oliliged to make trial of his strengtii
with his opponents, and as the public are seldom
in a mistake for any length of time, where their in-
terests are materially concerned, his station is very
soon fixed. The intimate connection that subsists
between the civil or Roman law, and the law of
Scotland, is well known. The one is founded upon
the other, .\ccording to the custom of Scotland at
that time, Burnet repaired to Holland, where the
best masters in tliis study were then settled. At the
university of tjroningen he remained for three years,
.assiduously attending the lectures on the civil law.
He then returned to his native country so perfectly
accomplished as a civilian, that, during the course
of a long lifi, his opinions on difficult points of this
law were highly respected.

He hapi>eneil to arrive in Edinburgh from Holland
on the night of Porteous mob. His lotlgings were
in the Lawnmarket, in the vicinity of the Tolbooth,
and hearing a great noise in the street, from a motive
of curiosity he sallied forth to witness the scene.
.Some pcrMir,, howcVL-r, had recognized him, and it
was curreiiily reported that he was one of the ring-
leaders, llcwa-. likely to have been ]iut to some
trouble on tlii^ account, had he not been alile to
]irove that he had iu^t arrived from abroad, and
tiierefore could know nothing of what wa^. in agita-
tion. He \va- wont to relate with great spirit the
circumstance^ thai attended this singular transaction.

In 1737 he became a member of the l'"aculty of
Advocates, and in ]>rocc>s ol time came into cf)n-
siderai)le practice. lli^ chief ]>atrons in early lile
wereLord justicc-ciL-rk .Milton, I.ord-proidcnt I-'orl)es,
and Er.skine Lord Tinu.ild or .\lva. The last had
been a profc.-sor in the im;vc!>jty ,it Iviinlnn-gh, and
being an excellent Cireck -cli'lar. kuL-w liow to esti-
mate hi.- talents.

During the rebellion of 1745, Burnet went to
London, and prudently declining to take any j art
in the politics of that troublous period, he spent the
time chiefly in the com|)any and conversation of his
literary friends. Among these were 'ihomson the
poet. Lord Littleton, and Hr. Armstrong. When
peace was restored, he returned to Scotland. About
1760 he married a beautiful and accomplished lady,
Miss Farquharson, a relation of .Marischal Keith, by
whom he had a son and two daughters. What first
brought him into very prominent notice, was the
share he had in conducting the celebrated Louglas'
cause. No question ever came before a court of law
which interested the public to a greater degree. In
Scotland it became in a manner a national (|uestion,
for the whole countrj' was tlivided, and ranged on
one side or the other. Mr. Burnet was counsel for
Mr. Douglas, and went thrice to France to assist in
leading the proof taken there. This he was well
qualified to do, for, during his studies in Holland,
he had acquired the practice of speaking the French
language with great facility. .Such interest did this
cause excite, that the pleadings before the Court of
.Session lasted thirty-one days, and the most eminent
lawyers were engaged. It is a curious historical
fact, that almost all the lawyers on both sides were
afterwards raised to the bench. Mr. Burnet was. in
1764, made sheriff of his native county, and on the
I2lh February, 1767, through the interest of the
Duke of Queensberry, lord justice-general, he suc-
ceeded Lord Milton as a lord of session, under the
title of Lord Monboddo. It is said that lie refused
a justiciary gown, being unwilling that his studies
should be interrupted during the vacation by any
additional engagements.

The first workwhich hepublished wason T/icO>-r^in
and Progress of Laiiguaf^c. The first volume appeared
in 1771, the second in 1773, and the third in 1776.
This treatise attracted a great deal of attention on
account of the singularity of some of the doctrines
which it advanced. In the first part, he gives a very
learned, elaborate, and abstruse account of the origin
of ideas, according to the metajdiysics of Plato and
the commentators on Aristotle, jdiilosoidiers to who^e
writings and theories he was devotedly attached. He
then treats of the origin of human societ) and of lan-
guage, which he considers .is a human ir.vcntii >n. w ith-
out paying the least regard to the scriptural accounts.
He represents men as having originally Ix-Lii.nnil who
continued for many ages to be, no better than lieasts.
and indeed in many respects worse: as ticstitute ot
speech, of reason, of conscience, of social atleetion.
and of everything that can confer dignity upon a
creature, and possessed of nothing but external sei>e
and memory, and a capacity of improvement. Ti.e
sVstem is not a new one, being liorrowed from Lucre-
tius, of whose account of it Ibirace gives an ex.'.i-t
abridgment in these lines: — Cum jirorcpseniDt j rur.:s
animalia terris, nuitum ct turpe peciis," iXic, whicii
Lord Monboddo takes for his motto, and wim.]). Le
said, comprehended in miniature the v.li. !e liisto:y
of man. In regard to facts that make lor !;;- sv-;--.,i
he is amazingly credulous, but blind and -ee: ileal in
regard to everyth.ing of an oppo-itc ten.;- ix_\ . lie
asserts witli tlie utmost gravity and co;.!; ;L;:ce. t':;. t

the orang-outangs are of the luiinan sjeciL llial :n

the Pay of P>engal th.eve exi-ts a r.:v,;-n o:" lr.;;r,;-n
creatures with tails, discovered 130 yt.-.r- itloieiiv
a Swedish skiji])er — that tlie bea\rr- ni>i -..'-lats are
social and political animals. t!io;;-h r...i:i. •>;. h.-.tiire. is
neitlier social nor pohtical. n-Tever. r.;;:o;-,-! rea-o:i,
rellectioii, a seiise of ri^Iil ard u roii^-. --Liet\. j o':cy.
and even th )i!;.;Iit. Lei::^'. in I'le ]i;:iri.i:i s; ecies. r.s
I much the eflect- of art. c^'ll::■i^ ance. .;;id ; -1 ■ exiiri-

JAMES BURNET.

ence, as writing, ship-building, or any other manu-
facture. Notwithstanding that the work contains
these and many other strange and whimsical opinions,
yet it discovers great acuteness of remark.

His greatest work, which he called Ancient Meta-
physics, consists of three volumes 4to, the last of
which was published only a few weeks before the
author's death. It may be considered as an exposi-
tion and defence of the Grecian philosophy, in opj^o-
sition to the philosophical system of Sir Isaac Newton,
and the scepticism of modern metapiiysicians, par-
ticularly Mr. David Hume. His opinions upon
many points coincide with those of Mr. Harris, the
author of H.rmes, who was his intimate friend, and
of whom he was a great admirer. He never seems
to have understood, nor to have entered into, the
spirit of the Newtonian philosophy; and, as to Mr.
Hume, he, without any disguise, accuses him of
atheism, and reprobates in the most severe terms
some of his opinions.

In domestic circumstances Monboddo was particu-
larly unfortunate. His wife, a very beautiful woman,
died in child-bed. His son, a promising boy, in
whose education he took great delight, was likewise
snatched from his affections by a premature death;
and his second daughter, in personal loveliness one
of the first women of the age, was cut off by con-
sumption when only twenty-five years old. Bums,
in an address to Edinburgh, thus celebrates the
beauty and excellence of Miss Burnet: —

''Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn,
Gay as the gilded summer sky,
Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,
Dear as the raptured thrill of joyi

" Fair Burnet strikes the .idoring eye.
Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine;
I see the Sire of love on high,
And own his work indeed divine."

His eldest daughter was married to Kirkpatrick
Williamson, Esq., keeper of the outer house rolls,
who liad been clerk to liis lordship, and was eminent
as a Greek scholar.

.About 1780, he first began to make an annual
journey to London, which he continued for a good
many years, indeed, till he was upwards of eiglity
years of age. .\s a coach was not a vehicle in use
among the ancients, he determined never to enter
and be seated in what he termed a box. He esteemed
it as degrading to the dignity of human nature to
be ilragged at the tails of horses instead of being
mountol on their backs. In his journeys between
I'^dinijurgli and London lie therefore rode on horse-
l>ack, attended by a single servant. On his last
visit, he was taken ill on tlie road, and it was witli
difficuhy tiiat .Sir Hector Monroe prevailed upon him
to come into his carriage. He set out, lunyever,
next day on horseback, an<l arrived safe in lidinburgli
by slow journeys.

Lord Monbiiddo, being in London in 17S5, visited
the King's Bench, when some part of the fixtures of
the place giving way, a great scatter took ]ilace
among the lawyers, and the very judges tliemselvcs
rushed towards the door. .Monfjoddo, somewiiat
near-sighted, and rather dull of hearing, sat still,
and was the only man who did so. I'cing asked
wliy he had not bestirred hiinself to avoid tlie ruin,
he coolly answered, that he "thought it was an annua!
ceremony, with which, being an alien, he had no-
tliing to do."

Wlien in the country lie generally dressed in the
style of a plain farmer; and lived among his tenants
with the utmost familiarity, and treated them with
groat kindness. He usecl much the exercises of
walking in tlie open air and of riding. He had

accustomed himself to the use of the cold bath in
all seasons, and amid every severity of the weather.
It is said that he even made use of the air-bath, or
occasionally walking about for some minutes naked
in a room filled with fresh and cool air. In imita-
tion of the ancients, the practice of anointing; was
not forgotten. The lotion he used was not the oil
of the ancients, but a saponaceous liquid compound
of rose-water, olive-oil, saline aromatic spirit, and
Venice soap, which, when well mixed, resembles
cream. This he applied at bedtime, before a large
fire, after coming from the warm bath.

This learned and ingenious, though somewhat ec-
centric, man died upon the 26th May, 1799, at the
advanced age of eighty-five years.

BURNET, James, landscape painter. Among
the lives of eminent men it often ha])pens that some
individual obtains a place, more on account of the
excellence he indicated than that which he realized;
and whom a premature death extinguishes, just when
a well-spent youth of high promise has commenced
those labours by which the hopes he excited would
in all likelihood be fulfilled. .Such examples we do
not willingly let die, and this must fomi our chief
apology for the introduction of a short memoir of
James Burnet. He was of a family that came
originally from Aberdeen, and was born at Mussel-
burgh, in the year 1788. His father, George Burnet,
of whom he was the fourth son, held the important
office of general surveyor of excise in Scotland; his
mother, Anne Cruikshank, was sister to the distin-
guished anatomist whose name is so honourably
associated with the professional studies of John
Hunter. James Burnet soon evinced his natural bias
towards art, not only by juvenile attempts in draw-
ing, but his frec[uent visits to the studio of Scott, the
landscape engraver, with whom his brother John,
afterwards so eminent as an engraver, was a pupil.
On account of these indications, James was placed
under the care of Liddel, to learn the mystery of
wood-carving, at that time in high request, and pro-
ductive of great profit to those who excelle<l in it;
and as skill in drawing was necessary for acquiring
proficiency in this kind of delineation, he was also
sent to the Trustees' Academy, where he studied
under Graham, the early preceptor of the most dis-
tinguished of our modern Scottish artists. It was
not wonderful that, thus circumstanced, James
Burnet's taste for carving in wood was soon sujier-
seded by the higher departments of art. He quickly
perceived the superiority of a well-finished delinea-
tion u])on canvas or i^aper over the stiff cherubs,
scrolls, and wreaths that were laboriously chiselled
upon side-boards and bed-]5osts, and chose his voca-
tion accordingly: he would be an artist. With this
view, he transmitted to his brother John, who was now
employed as an engraver in London, several speci-
mens of his drawings, expressing also his earnest
desire to commence life as a painter in the great
metro])olis; and without waiting for an answer, he
followed his a])plication in ]ierson, and arrived in
London in iSio. A letter of acquiescence from his
brothc-r, which his hurry had anticiiiated, was already
on the way to lidinburgh, and therefore his arrival in
London, although so sudden and unex]X'cted, was
not unwelcome.

It required no hmg stay in the British ca]iital to
convince the young aspirant that he had much yet to
learn before he could become an artist. But he also
found that London could offer such lessons as Edin-
l)urgli had been unable to furnish. This conviction
first struck him on seeing Wilkie's "Blind Eiddler," f)f
which his brother John was executing the well-known

JAMES BURNET ALLAN BURNS,

and justly-admired engraving. James was arrested
and riveted by the painting, so unlike all he had
hitherto admired and copied: it was, he perceived,
in some such spirit as this that he must select from
nature, and imitate it, if he would succeed in his
daring enterprise. This conviction was further con-
firmed by studying the pro<luctions of the eminent
I )utch masters in the British gallery, where he found
that originality of conception was not only intimately
blended with the truthfulness of nature, but made
subservient to its authority. He must therefore
study nature herself where she was best to be found
— among the fields, and beneath the clear skies,
where the beauty of form and the richness of colour
presented their infinite variety to the artist's choice,
and taught him the best modes of arranging them
upon the canvas. Forth he accordingly went, with
nothing but his note-book and pencil; and among
the fields, in the neighbourhood of London, he
marked with an observant eye the various objects
tliat most struck his fancy, and made short sketches
of these, to be after\vards amplified into paintings.
It was remarked, also, in this collection of hasty
pencillings, tliat instead of seeking to aggrandize tlie
works of nature, he faithfully copied them as he
found them. "He has introduced," says a judicious
critic, sjieaking of one of his paintings, "everything
that could in any way characterize the scene. The
rainbow in the sky, the glittering of the rain upon
the leaves; the dripping pindtry under the hedge,
the reflections of the cattle on the road, and the girl
with the gown over her shoulders, all tend with
equal force to illustrate his subject." Not content,
also, with the mere work of sketching in the fields,
he was accustomed to note down in his book such
o!)5ervations in connection with the sketch as might
be available for the future picture, or those remarks
in reference to liglit and shade that were applicable
to painting in general. The result of this training
was soon perceptible in the increasing excellence of
his successive productions, of which Allan Cunning-
ham, his biographer, well remarks: — "His trees are
finely grouped; his cows are all beautiful; they have
the sense to know where the sweetest grass grows;
his milk-maids have an air of natural elegance about
them, and his cow-boys are not without grace."

Of the paintings of James Burnet, some of which
are in the possession of his relatives, and others
among the costly picture galleries of our nobility, the
following is a list: — I. Cattle going out in the
Morning. 2. Cattle returning Home in a Shower.
3. Key of the Byre. 4. Crossing the Br(jok. 5.
Cow-boys and Cattle. 6. Breaking the Ice. 7.
Milking. 8. Crossing the Bridge. 9. Inside of a
C/w-JMuse. 10. Going to Market. 11. Cattle by
a Pool in Summer. 12. Boy with Cows.

While Burnet was thus pursuing a course of self-
education that drew him onward step by step in im-
jirovement, and promised to conduct him to a very
high rank among pastoral and landscape paiiiters, a
malady had latterly attended him in his wanderings,
that too often selects the young and the sensitive tor
its victims. Tliis was con-.umption, a tlisease which
his lonely habits and so<lentary employment in the
open air were only too apt to aggravate; and,
although a change of scene anil atmosphere was
tried l)y his removal to Lee in Kent, it was soon
evident that his days were numbered. Even then,
however, when scarcely able to walk, he was to be
found lingering among the beautifid scenery of Lee
and Lewisliam, with his ]iencil ami note-book in
hand, and to the last he talked with his friends alxjut
painting, and the bndscajies that he still hoped to
delineate. He died on the 27th July, 1S16. His

dying wish was to l)e buried in the village clmrch of
Lee, in whose picturescjue churchyard he had so
often wandered and musetl during the last days of
his illness; but as sepulture in that privileged place
could not be granted to a stranger, his remains were
interred in the churchyard o{ Lewisham. At his
death he had only readied his twenty-eighth year.

BURNS, Ali..\n. This talented anatomist and
surgical writer, in whom a life of high promise was
too soon arrested, was the son of the Rev. Dr.
Bums, minister of the Barony Church, Glasgow; a
venerable clergyman, who, after bearing for several
years the title of "father of the Church of Scotland,"
on account of his seniority, died in 1839, at the very
advanced age of ninety-six. Allan Burns was born
at Glasgow on the i8th September, 17S1. When
not more than fourteen years old, he entered the
medical classes, where his ddigence and proficiencv
were so remarkable, that only two years afterwards,
he was able to undertake the entire direction of the
dissecting-rooms of Mr. John I'urns, his brother,
who at that time was a lecturer on anatomy and
surgery in the city of Glasgow. In this situation,
his opportunities of extending and perfecting his
knowledge were so carefully employed, that he
attained, even though still a youth, a high reputation
among the practical anatomists of his day. His
views being directed to medical practice in the army,
he went to London, in 1804, for the purpose of ob-
taining a commission; but before his application was
made to that effect, he received an ofter that altered
his intention. It was to repair to St. Petersburg,
and undertake the charge of an hospital which the
empress Catherine was desirous of establishing in
her capital, upon the English plan. Allan Burns
had been recommended to her majesty by Dr.
Creighton, as one ever)'way qualified for this im-
portant charge; and when the olTer was made, it
was with the understanding that he might make
a six months' trial before finally closing with it.
Tempted by so alluring a prospect. Burns left
London for St. Petersburg, and commenced the
duties of his new career. But Russia was not at
that time the country- which it has now become, and
the sensitive mind of the young Scot was suon
sickened by the Asiatic pomp and Scythian barbarism
with which he was surrounded. On this account,
he abandoned the tempting prospects of court favour
and professional advancement that were held out to
him, and returned to Scotland Ix'fore the six months
of pr(jbation had eiuled. At his departure, he was
presented by the empress with a valuable diamond
ring, as a token of the royal ajijiroLation and esteem.

On returning to his native country, which was at
the commencement of 1805, Burns resolved to
occupy tlie place of his brother, who had di<cf)n-
tinued his lectures on surgery antl anatomy. This
he did in the winter of the fjllowing year, ar.'l
quickly won the admiration of hi.- pupil>, by the
C(jrrectness anti extent of his professional kr.uwle<lge,
and great power i)f illustration. Iiuieed, a^- a
lecturer, the most abstruse sulijects in his haiul>
became plain aiul jaljiahle, aii<l the liiiesi sul'jci'.s
full of interest. Still, however. iKitw iili-tan.i.r.g l.>
reputation as a lecturer, hi^ fame wnr.ld !ia\e been
limited and evanescent, liad it not li^-eti tov tiie v,. i.k.s
he published, by which tlie higli adniira:!";! "l ti'.'.se
who knew him was participated in liy tiic \\<.rid at
large. The first of tiie-e pui.iliLaM' •:!-. v'.ixh ai-
peared in 1S09, was er.t;tled C''.^ -•-;.;,'.•..•.' - > /; -\ I'W
i\f the most FrL-quitit and /rarer: :i:t iJ-^iSiS cf tnc
Heart: cr A)u-ur::!)t of t'.c 'Ji::r,: .v./i'V?.- , r /Vv-
tcrnataral J\iiSJt:e/! 1:1 ii:c J:.':'r.j:r,e AV.Vi ;;.■ c:;.'./

JOHN BURNS.

en the Unusual Origin and Distribution of some of
the Large Arteries of the Human Body; illustrated
by cases. The second, which was published in 1812,
was entitled Observations on the Surgical Anatomy
of the Head and N^eck; illustrated by cases. This
was the whole amount of his authorship, with the
exception of two essays, which he contributed to the
Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal; one on
the anatomy of the parts concerned in the operation
for crural hernia; the other on the operation of
lithotomy. The career of professional distinction
which these works had so favourably opened up to
him, was closed before it could be further pursued.
So early as iSio his health had beyun to give way,
and though he continued to lecture for two years
afterwards, it was with great difficulty and pain.
His death occurred on the 22d of June, 181 3.

BURNS, John, M.D., a distinguished medical
writer, and ekler brother of Allan, the subject of the
j)receding notice, was born in Glasgow, in 1774. He
was descended from a family of the name of Burn;
his grandfather, John Burn, was a teacher of Jinglish
in Glasgow, and the author of an English grammar
bearing his name, a work highly popular as a school-
book in the west of Scotland about a century ago.
His father was the Rev. John Ikirns, D.D., who, as
has been already mentioned, was minister for up-
wards of sixty-nine years of the Barony parish of
{jlasgow, and who died in 1839. John, who was
the eldest surviving son of Dr. Burns, was born in
1775. He began his professitMial studies in Glasgow,
antl continued them in Edinburgh. He had just
completed his studies when the Glasgow Royal
Infirmary, in which he was the first surgeon's clerk,
was opened for the reception of patients in 1792.
His favourite department of medical science was
surgical anatomy, in which he made remarkable
jirogress. He soon began to give instructions to
(Others, and was the first private teacher of anatomy
in Glasgow. His lecture-room was originally at the
head of Virginia .Street, at the north-west corner,
behind the [jresent Union Bank. At that period,
and for thirty years afterwards, subjects for dissec-
tion could only be obtained by violating the rejiose
of the dead; a practice most demoralizing to those
immediately engaged in it, and not unfrequcntly pro-
ductive of unpleasant consetjuences to lecturers and
students. An affair of this nature having transpired
in connection with the lecture-room of Mr. JJurns,
])roceedings were instituted against him by the
authorities, but were quashed on his coming under
a promise to discontinue his lectures on anatomy.
His younger brother Allan, however, took u]) the
anatomical lectures, and John jjegan to lecture on
midwifery. The lecture-room f)f the l^rothers was
removed to a tenement built on the site of the old
bridewell, on the north side of ('oUuge Street. They
were both successful as lecturers. Allan's sl\le \vas
monot(;nous an<l unpleasing, but his demonstrations
were admirable. John's manner was the more
agreeable, his knowledge was exact, his views were
])ractical, and his lectures were interspersed with
anecdotes and strokes of humour which rendered
them highly attractive to the students. J)r. Burns
now Ijcgan to exhibit the fruits of his stmlies in
a series of important contril)Utiuiis to tiie literature
<if his profession. His first publication u{ nole was
\\\\i Anato?nv of the (irazid C/erus, which apjieared
in 1799. This was followed, in iSoo, by two volumes
fm Jjiflainmation, in which he was the lirst to describe
a species of cancer which is now known by the
name of fungus hccmatodcs. These tv.o works
stamped their author as an observing, original, and

practical inquirer. They were followed by Observa-
tions on Abortion, in 1806; Observations on Uterine
Jda-inorrhage, in 1807; and by the most popular of
all his medical writings. The Principles of Alidwifery,
in i8og, a book which has been translated into
various languages, and has passed through numerous
etlitions. In 1828-38 appeared the Frituiples of
Surgeiy, in two volumes, a work which cost Dr.
Burns much pains, but did not meet with corre-
sponding success. He likewise published a popular
work on the Treatment of IVomen and Children.

Dr. Burns married, in 1801, the daughter of the
Rev. John Duncan, minister of the parish of Alva,
in Stirlingshire. He continued to lecture on mid-
wifery till 1S15, when the crown instituted a regius
professorship of surgery, in the university of Glasgow,
to which chair he was appointed, and discharged its
duties till the close of his life. In 1810 his wife
died, and he remained a widower during the forty
years that he survived her. By her he had four
children: the youngest, Allan, named after his uncle,
was born in January, 1810.

At an early period in his professional career, Dr.
Burns became surgeon to the Royal Infirmary, and
distinguished himself by the nerve with which he
operated. He subsequently became the partner of
Mr. Muir, and, after that gentleman's death, of Mr.
Alexander Dunlop, a connection which brought him
into excellent family practice. His son, Allan,
followed the medical profession, and having com-
pleted his studies, after a residence of three years
on the Continent, he commenced practice in 1832.
With an intimate knowledge of medical science, and
a strong love of anatomical pursuits, he was rising
fast into eminence, when intermittent fever, caught
in the prosecution of his duties, carried him off alter
a short illness, in November, 1843, '" '•^^'^ thirty-
fourth year of his age. It was not till his son entered
upon public practice that the subject of this memoir
took out liis degree, which he had previously refused
to do. He was shortly afterwards elected physician
to the Royal Infirmary. He had subsetiuentiy con-
siderable jDractice as a consulting physician. Dr.
Burns had, however, been gradually retiring from
the labours of his profession, when the severe afflic-
tion caused by his son's death befell him. He then
gave up everything but his professorial duties, de-
voting much of his time to carrying out the views of
the ])rincipal and ])rofessors of the college as re-
spected the medical school — and, in token of their
gratitude, he was recjuested by the senatus to sit for
his portrait, ^\■hich, having been jiainted by Mr. John
Graham Ciilbert, was placed in the Ilunterian
Museum of the college.

I'^arly in life, and while yet a student in the uni-
versity of Edinburgh, his mind was imbued with
those religious jirinciples which regulated his whole
career, and sustained him amidst many afflictive
bereavements. To the religicjus wtald he IjccaniC
favourabl)- known by a work entitled The J'rinci/les
of Christian J'hiiosophv, which has gone through
several editions, and jiromises to hold a permanent
place in religious literature.

Dr. Bums also published another religious book,
entitled Christian J-'ragmciits. AUhougli brought
u]) in the Church of Scotland, fjf which he was an
elder, he became a member of the Episcopalian
church, and died in its communion. I lis end was
sudden and melancholy. He ])crished in the wreck
of the f^r/i'// steamboat, on her ])assage fr(;m l.iver-
jtool to (ilasgow, on the iSth of June, 1S50. Having
fniished his course and kept the foith, he \\as re-
moved from the world in the attitude and exercise of
prayer. I lehadreachedlhe matureage of seventy -five.

ROBERT BURNS.

233

Dr. John Burns was F.R.y., and a member of the
Institute of France, and of several other scientific
institutions in vari(jus countries. In politics he was
a stanch Conservative. He was of a cheerful dis-
position, was a {jreat favourite with his patients, and
towards his professional brethren he behaved on all
occasions in the most honourable manner. In
person he was under the middle height, with gray
flowing locks, and his dress was scnipulously neat
and anti(|ue. Few individuals in Glasgow were un-
acquainted with his exterior, and thousands who knew
little of his professional attainments were yet familiar
with his appearance as a venerable medical gentle-
man of the old school. His eldest and only surviv-
ing son, Lieutenant-colonel Burns, of the second
queen's regiment, died at the Cape of Good Hope
towards the close of 1853.

BURNS, RoHF.RT. This illustrious bard, the
poet of Scotland, and not only of Scotland, but of
nature at large, was the son of William Burnes, of
whose origin all that is known is, that his father had
been a farmer in the Mearns, on the domains of the
earl marischal, and that he left his native district at
tho age of nineteen. William Burnes (for thus he
spelled his name) first repaired to tlie neighbour-
hood of Edinburgh, where he wrought as a gardener
for several years; afterwards migrated to Ayrshire,
where lie became overseer on a small estate, and
rented a few acres of land; and finally, in 1 757,
married Agnes Brown, an Ayrshire girl, of the same
humble rank as his own. It has been suspected that
William's father as well as himself had been of the
same Jacobite sentiments as their landlord, and had
even been involved in tiie rebellions of 1 715 and
1745, on which account William had found it ne-
cessary to leave his home and commence life anew
among strangers. If this was the case, we can un-
derstand the sympathy of the poet for the Stuart
cause when Jacobitism had become useless, and was
even branded as ridiculous. But William Burnes
possessed a character of his own which would have
procured him respect whatever were his political
leanings. His superior education was attested by
his command of the English language, which he
spoke more fluently and correctly tlian most people
of his own degree. His integrity and manly in-
dependence were equally felt by his employers and
those who worked under him. And in the family
circle, where he was best understood, every member
of it was enlightened by his conversation, directed
by his judgment, and awed by his reproof It is
enough to add, that in the religious clutics of the
houseiiohl he unconsciously sat for the jiicture of
tile father in tlie "Cottar's Saturday Night."

(_1f this upright noide-minded peasant Robert
r.urns was tlie son. In worldly circumstances tlie
birth of tiie jioct was unpromising, for it was in a
little cottage of tiie humblest description in tlie
parish of Alloway, a mile and a half fnjm the town
of Ayr, and in the immediate neighbourhood of the
bridge of I )ooii - a clay-lniilt cottage, which William
Burnes ha 1 erected witli his own liands. Ihit this
edilice is now tlie ehiel mark of many a pilgrimage
to Scotland from lands liowever remote. Here the
future liard, who was to fill the world with his fame,
was born on the 25th of Jainiary. 1759. In his
sixth year Robert was sent to school at .\lloway
Milne, about a mile di-tant; but the teacher having
got a better situation a few niontlis afterward>,
another was engaged in liis stead by \\ illiam burnes
and a few other cottagers, who paid the cost of
teaching by boarding tlie jM-eceptor in tlieir houses
by turns. By tliis plan, which was coninion in

many of the rural districts of Scotland even until
the close of the last century, several students sup-
ported themselves as teachers during their training
for the clerical profession, while education of a
superior kind was insured to the most sechided
localities and children of the humblest ranks. Here
Robert and his younger brother (iillx;rt remained so
long as to learn to read English tolerably and to write
a little; and here also Rol)ert learned the rules and
application of English grammar, which had after-
wards an improving influence both upon his writings
and conversation. As books in such a locality were
not very numerous, while the mind of the young
poet was ravenous for its intellectual sustenance, he
devoured everything in print that fell in his way, and
still hungered for more. It was well, jK-rhaps, that
he was not distracted by that immense varietv aiul
abundance of books which, in our own day, makes
the task of reading such a careless and su]^erficial
process: on the contrary, every page was hecdfidly
conned over until the whole volume was absorbed
into his intellectual existence, and Ijecame a portion
of his growth and strength. In this process of
self-improvement, the first work he read was the
Life of IliUinibal, next to Hector of Troy the dar-
ling hero of young schoolboys. When he was a
few years older, the Life of Sir William Wallace,
in verse, by Henry the Minstrel, but modernized by
Hamilton of Gilbertfield, came in his way, whose
exploits were still more wonderful than those of the
gallant Carlhagenian, as well as more dear to his
enthusiastic Scottish heart. Among the list of books
perused in his youth, and which he either bought,
borrowed, or obtained from book societies, were
SalmoiCs Geo_^raphical Grammar, Derliani's LViysicc-
ami Astro- 7 lieolc;:;y, Rayh Wisdcm of GoJ ni the
Creation, and Staekhoiise\'s LListoiy of the Bible. Some
of these v.'orks were sufficient, by their bulk and
erudition, to daunt a peasant boy; but to Robeit
Burns they had no such terrors: " No bock I" declares
his brother, "was so voluminous as to slacken his
industr}', or so antiquated as to damp his researches."'
His zeal for self-improvement was also attested by
the following incident: — An uncle of his havii.g
gone to purchase in Ayr The L\eady L^eckoiier, iv
J'radesmaits Sure Guide, bought by mistake The
Complete L.etter-'d'riter in its stead. This was a
fortunate blunder for his nephew Robert, whom it
inspired with a zeal to excel in letter-writing; and.
as the collection consi>ted of letters by tlie nio-t
eminent English writers, he persevered in the stinly
until his own epistolary compositions sur])as>cd
the models. The letters of Burns are as wonderful
as liis poems. When he was about thirteen 1 r
fourteen years of age, he advanced to a higher and
more miscellaneous kind of reading; and the boiik>
of this class are specified as Pope's J\eiiis, and I'oj e >
Homer, some jilays of Shakspeare, Toyles Leetin:.',
Locke on the I/i( Ilia n L'nderstaiidiii.;^. ILi-ey< M:d.-
tations, Taylor's Scripture J'^octriiie cf Original S:;:.
and the works of Allan Ramsay and Sniolk-tt. Aii'l
all these works not only read but nia-tcrel b}' .1
jieasant not advanced lievrmd t!ie age ot li. ■\!p'-.I
But the nio.-t influential of them all ^^a- ./ Ciic .': v
(_'/" .Vv/^'-.f. Here he had lighted upon tlie >li:n;:\g
grains on the surface which revciIcd t'^ l;:iii tie
gold-field in whicli he wa> t > dig ar.'l I'cO'V.-x rxh.
"That volume,'" he says ft rve:-.:ly. -'wa- my :..•,.•'■
iiiccum. 1 pored over th'/ni, iiv.r:::g my w. >;k, ( r
walking to laltour, si^tig I'v -^'iig. vcr-e l-y ver-.',
carefully noticing the tn:e, te:vie:'. ^ t suii];n;e. \x><v.\
affectation or fu-tiaii; ar.d I ani convinced 1 owe t'>
this practice nvwi "f my cri!;c cr.-fi ~;Kh r.s it i-. '
In the meantime th.e re-t of hi- -chuul edueati^ai had

254

ROBERT BURNS.

been going on irregularly and by short snatches, dur-
ing which he perfected himself in English grammar,
learned a very little Latin, to which language he was
not partial, and made greater proficiency in French,
which he was able to read with tolerable ease.

But while schools and books were thus training
the peasant youth for his future high destination,
another stem discipline had all the while been at
work, the good and evil effects of which would be
equally difficult to calculate. The poet's father,
notwithstanding his upright character, and more
than ordinary abilities, was one of those persons
whose talents and worth are equally unavailing in
the battle of life; and whose attempts, however
wisely devised and carefully followed out, seem as if
fore-doomed to end in failure. lie took the farm of
Mount Oliphant, of between eighty and ninety
acres, at what was apparently a very moderate
rent, and had a loan of ;i{^ioo to stock it ; but the
soil was ungenial, and did not repay him either for
labour or outlay. Under these circumstances the
family had to submit to privations tliat were unusual
in those days in .Scotland, even in the cottages of the
poorest; and Robert, only half- fed, was obliged in
bDyhood to undergo the work of a man. At thir-
teen he thrashed the crops, with occasional help
from Gilbert, his younger brother; and at fifteen he
held the plough, while Gilbert drove the team.
Such toil and such an unavailing struggle, acting
upon a proud indignant spirit, imparted a scorching
fire and energy to his poetical temperament, which,
under hapjiier circumstances, might never have been
kindled: but where in such a case would have been
that heroic independence, that withering contempt
of the artificial distinctions of society, and those
terrible denunciations of oppression and oppressors
which form so essential a charm of his poetry? And
where would have been those sympathies that were
so beautifully expressed for the bird shivering and
half-starved in its winter's nest, the field-mouse with
its little house destroyed, or even the daisy that lay
crushed beneath his ploughshare? But dearly, on
the other hand, did he pay for such advantages.
"I douljt not," says his brother Gilbert, "but the
hard labour and sorrow of this period of his life was
in a great measure the cause of that depression of
spirits with which Robert was so often afflicted
through his whole life afterwards. At this time he
was almost constantly afflicted in the evenings with
a dull headache, which, at a future period of his life,
was exchanged for a palpitation of the heart, and a
threatening of fainting and suffocation in his bed, in
the night-time." Nor was this the worst. These
sufferings and privations of his early youth laid the
groundwork of that intemperance with which his
after-life was chargeable. It was not wonderful,
however deeply to l)e deplored, that the involuntary
sufferings of the ascetic should be exchanged for the
fierce indulgences of the i)acchaiial, and that the
latter should be enhanced by the recollections of the
former.

But long before this reaction had occurred, anrl
while his mind was still in the {)urity of boyhood, an
event happened, by which his high vocation as the
poet of his country was decided. The outburst of
a ]ioet's first inspiration is generally i)atri')tism, reli-
gion, or love; and, in the case of Robert Hums, it
was the last that broke the seal of the fountain, and
caused its imprisoned wat:;rs to gush forth. His own
account of the circumstance is too interesting to be
either omitted or curtailed. "You know our coun-
try custom," he writes to his I'^nglish biograjiher,
"of coupling a man and woman together as jjartneis
in the labours of harvest. In my fifteenth autumn

my partner was a bewitching creature, a year younger
than myself. My scarcity of English denies me the
power of doing her justice in that language; but you
know the Scottish idiom; she was a boiinie, siueet,
sonsie lass. In short, she altogether, unwittingly to
herself, initiated me in that delicious passion, which,
in spite of acid disappointment, gin-horse pmdence,
and book-worm philosophy, I hold to be the first of
human joys, our dearest blessing here below. How
she caught the contagion I cannot tell; you medical
people talk much of infection from breathing the same
air, the touch, &c. ; but I never expressly said I loved
her. Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked so
much to loiter behind with her, when retuming in
the evening from our labours; why the tones of her
voice made my heart-strings thrill liv.e an yEolian
harp; and particularly why my pulse beat such a
furious ratan, when I looked and fingered over her
little hand to pick out the cruel nettle-stings and
thistles. Among her other love-inspiring qualities,
she sung sweetly; and it was her favourite reel to
which I attempted giving an embodied vehicle in
rhyme. I was not so presumptuous as to ima.gine
that I could make verses like printed ones, compo.sed
by men who had Greek and Latin: but my girl su^ig
a song which was said to be composed by a smai'l
country laird's son, on one of his father's maids, with
whom he was in love; and I saw no reason why I
might not rhyme as well as he; for, excepting that
he could smear sheep, and cast peats, his father
living in the moorlands, he had no more scholar-
craft than myself. Thus with me began love and
poetry."

But with this opening of a new and buoyant exist-
ence, the old was still hanging to it like a millstone.
After residing at the farm of Mount Oliphant for the
space of eleven years, toiling with his family like a
serf, and meeting with continued loss and disappoint-
ment, William Burnes removed to the farm of
Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton. But the change
brought only a fresh train of disasters, so that at the
end of seven years the old man succumbed, and died
with the prospect of utter bankruptcy and a jail
hanging over him. The removal to Lochlea occurred
when our poet was only seventeen years of age; but,
amidst these depressing circumstances, his native
qualities, both moral and intellectual, were develop-
ing themselves in all their strength and luxuriance.
The first difficulty of a ]5oet, the mechanical art of
rhyming, he had already tried and surmounted, and
he was now preluding with those attempts which
were afterwards to carry him into the highest regions
of song. The inspiration, also, that first awoke his
muse, instead of abating, became more fervent than
ever; and when his first boy-love ceased, it was only to
give place to a fresh succession of mistresses, each of
whoni jKjssessed him wholly for the time, though it
might be but for a week or a day. And little did it
matter how these goddesses might apjiear to moral
eyes: his fervent imagination was sufficient to form a
/ 'cnusdc MedicisowX of a very ordinary block of granite.
Hence the rustic astonishment that was excited by
his lays, which ]icopled the whole region round about
with nymphs of surjiassing beauty, whose charms
they had never been able to detect; and the fervour
of their exclamation, when the originals were pointed
out, of "vvliaur were his een!" And well would it
have been for his moral reputation, if he could have
been contented with this poetical idolatry. But the
ethereal in such extremes is too closely allied to the
sensual; and, in too many cases. Burns found that
his goddesses were women, and weak ones tcjo.
These aberrations, however, did not occur until
several years afterwards; and for the present, the

ROBERT BURNS.

255

mind of Burns was involved in a daily struggle
arising from the meanness of his condition, and the
consciousness of his own latent powers. Speak-
ing of this period of his existence, he says,
"The great misfortune of my life was to want an
aim. I had felt early some stirrings of emulation;
but they were the blind gropings of Homer's Cyclops
round the walls of his cave. I saw my father's
situation entailed on me perpetual labour. The only
two openings by which I could enter the temple of
fortune, was the gate of niggardly economy, or the
path of little chicaning bargain-making. The first
is so contracted an aperture I never could squeeze
myself into — the last I always hated — there was
contamination in the very entrance! Thus aban-
doned of aim or view in life, with a strong appetite
for sociability, as well from native hilarity as from
a pride of observation and remark, a constitutional
melancholy or hypochondriasm that made me fly
solitude; add to these incentives to social life, my
reputation for bookish knowledge, a certain wild
logical talent, and a strength of thought, something
like the rudiments of good sense; and it will not
seem surprising that I was generally a welcome guest
where I visited."

When our poet had reached the twenty-third
year of his life, to him it was an eventful period.
With a worn-out father dying under the near prospect
of beggary and a jail, and with tlie cares of the
family, as the eldest of its members, about to devolve
upon him, lie felt it necessary, instead of following
the precarious occupation of farming, to learn a trade.
For this purpose he joined a flax-dresser in the
neighbouring town of Irvine, at whose occupation
he wrought for six months. Here also he estab-
lished tiie Batchelor's Club, and drew out its rules
and regulations. It originally consisted of seven
young men belonging to the parish of Tarbolton,
and was to meet on the evening of every fourth
Monday to discuss a question on any important
subject, disputed points of religion being alone ex-
cepted. The place of meeting was a small public-
house in the village, and not more than threepence
was to be expended by each member in drink.
Tims humble though such a society was, and
established only by young mstics for their intel-
lectual improvement, their meetings could be of
no ordinary kind when they had Robert Burns for
their chief speaker. Here also he matured that
command of language and povver of conversational
discussion which afterwards were to astonish the
most learned and accomplished of Edinburgh. But
there were also other gatherings at Irvine, one of
which was fatal to the poet's project of pursuing
the occupation of a flax-dresser. He had only re-
sided six months in that town when new year's-
day arrived, and such a visit could not at that
time occur in Scotland without being welcomed
by all ranks witli a carousal. A party had been
assembled liy Burns for this purpose; but while the
mirtii and fun grew fast and furious, the combustible
materials of llie >hop were accidentally set on fire
and the shop itself burned to ashes, leaving their
owner, like a true poet, not worth a sixpence.

On the death of old William liunies, in 17S4, the
family removed to the farm of .Mossgiel, in the
neighljouihood of Mauchlir.e, of which they had
previously taken a sub-lease. It consisted of 118
acres, which tlicy lield at a rent of £()Q\ and as
it was a joint-.-^tocl: adventure, each brought to it
the portion he l;ad saved from the general wreck.
The farm b.-iii:^ thus stocked, aUhough in a scanty
fasliion, each mcniher was to rccei\-e victuals and
wa'::es fr^m ;*, t!ie sharj of v.-.i-::^ allotted tu

Robert and Gill)ert being £^ per annum to each.
Upon this limite<l allowance the poet commenced
life in earnest. To use his own words, "I entered
on this farm with a full resolution, 'Come, go to,
I will be wi.se!' I read farming books," he con-
tinues, "I calculated crops, I attended markets;
and in short, in spite of the devil, and the world,
and the flesh, I believe I should have been a wise
man; but the first year, from unfortunately buying
bad seed, the second from a late harvest, we lost
half our crops. This overset all my wisdom, and
I-retumed, 'like the dog to his vomit, and the sow
that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.'"
It is thus that half in mirth, and half in remorseful
sorrow, he briefly sums up the hi.st(;ry of that com-
mencement by which his success in life was to be
made or marred. But while the agriculturist would
pity, and the moralist condemn, such an untoward
experiment and its result, this sojourn at Mossgiel
constitutes the most important of all epochs in the
history of Scottish poetry. For it was in the "auld
clay biggin," dignified with the name of a farm-
house, and when he was resolved to abjure poetrj-
for ever, that he enjoyed the glorious "vision" in
which the Scottish muse welcomed him, cheered
him onward, and placed the crown of holly on his
head. And it was while he was ploughing the cold
sterile soil of Mossgiel, in the attempt to wring
from it a bare subsistence, that he was visited by
the best and brightest of his poetical inspirations.
Although he could find neither wealth nor com-
jjetence, he had found where his real strength lay,
and was revelling in its enjoyment. While holding
the plough some impressive idea would seize him,
which he soon resolved into rhyme, and the verses
thus fonned served as the nucleus of other stanzas
which he gathered round it by after study, until the
whole poem was completed. His common auditor
was his affectionate brother and fellow-labourer
Gilbert, to whom he recited these productions,
when finished, and by v.hom a record has been
left of the circumstances in which they originated.
It is a curious instance of poetical modesty that
Burns, while producing such matchless poem~, was
content with a single hearer; and that v.hile his
talents, knowledge, and conversational powers ob-
tained for him the admiration or envy <-)f his
companions, they little guessed that a jirince of
poetr)' was among them. But so it was, and the
two brothers kept well the secret which tliey shared
between them. Gilbert indeed had begim to sus-
pect that such poems were too good to remain un-
known; and after imparting this idea to Robert, tlie
latter thought of sending one of them to sonic
magazine. But the idea was not followed out;
and perhaps it was better that tl;e whole ct)l!ection
should burst upon the world at once, and take it by
storm — as we know it afterwards Cnd.

In the meantime the life of Burns, before li ■
entered into authorsiiip, continued tol>e a c!;c;i.;'jr'. ■!
one; it was also one that was evidently httir,g h'.v.":
f >r some remarkalile destination, ^iiouKl tlic c-'iir-c
of events be jiropitious. In rcriut.r.ion t'.r talcr.t
he wa^, far beyoncl his comi'.ccr.-, aiv! tl'.cy c<ai-o].,Ml
themselves in their infcrii.)rity wiih the tlioi;,;!-.!.
that he was Init a hare-um scarc-'.;:n 1; r.:u> n'tcr a.;.
\\ho woulil never get on in tiie \vo:M. Hi- ir.lel-
Icctual suiKTiority was even reC":,'n:.L ! by >Ueh o:
the educated as clianced to ineet h:i:i in c ni] aiiy,
and erudite divines jireaciied w:'.:; a certain nerv"i>
uneasiness when Robert burn- wa- among their
hearers. But to tlii> ac'^r. iwle'i^^mert of >r.per:ority,
tliere were al.-o j^'i:;e i -.p.ie -erxu- di,-(iualiticatioi>.
In theolo-'cal b.!:^;" l.e c.ui.i leareelv bj called

ROBERT BURNS.

orthodox, and his freedom in religious discussions
were already procuring for him the character of
being "not sound." His latitudinarian practices
in some cases were but too correspondent to the
flexibility of his creed, and these especially in
matters of chastity and sobriety. He had even
been punished for the sin of incontinence according
to tlie rules of Scottish ecclesiastical discipline,
by being rebuked in open congregation in the
church of Mauchline by the Rev. Mr. Auld, the
minister of the parish. Excluded by these cir-
cumstances from the rigid or ortiiodox party, who
comprised the bulk of the Scottish population,
Burns had no alternative but to ally himself to
their opponents, the moderates, who welcomed
him as a valualjle acquisition; and under their
colours he commenced that bitter war against the
opposite party which vented itself in poetical sar-
casms, such as The Holy Fair, Holy Willie s Prayer,
and other similar productions. And most unjustly
were tliese "priest-skelping turns" recorded against
him as proofs of his irreligious spirit, his profanity,
and general unbelief, wiiile they were nothing more
than the sharp strong utterances of party feeling and
theological antagonism. He held up to ridicule the
severe doctrines, the precise practices, and high
pretentions of the orthodox clergy and their fol-
lowers; and in tliis he only retaliated the charges
with whicli they were wont to condemn the mode-
rates. It was nothing more than a war at outrance,
as all theological conflicts are wont to be. But
Burns had the last word of it, because he had the
word that lasts longest — and hence the intensity
of their dislikes. The antagonism of the two parties
still continues, but the scorching and withermg satire
of the poet is as fresh as ever. No wonder then
tliat the charge of profanity has been continued
against the poet until the present day. Were we
to rake up the pamplflets an<l I)road-sheets of this
controversy, we should find paragraphs as bitter,
and apparently as profane, written by clergymen
on both sides of the question, w-hom the world never
thought of accusing of irreligion, and whose memory,
when their fight was ended, was allowed to rest in
peace.

.\mong the many charmers who liad been succes-
sively the objects of Burns's adoration, Jean Armour
now reigned paramount. She was of a rank scarcely
better than liis own, being the daughter of a master-
mason, in the village of Mauchline, of which locality
she was the reigning belle. Their first meeting was
characteristic of their country and station. ]>urns,
while out shooting by the river side, saw a blacl'C-
eyed, rosy-faced, jim])-waisted lassie about seventeen
year> of age, wa>liing clothes in the Scottisli
fashion by tramping them in a tul), and cheering this
dancing o[ieration by lilting a .Scottish song. His
diig ran over a [portion of tlie clotlies that were spread
o>it u]>on tlie green to dry; she threw a stone at the
animal, to drive it av.-ay; and Burns sportively re-
marked, "If you liked me, you would like my dog."
This introduction led to a mutual acquaintanceship
and fervent liking on both sides, of which tlie con-
secpiences at length became too a])]iarent — the
])<)'jr girl was about to become a mother. In this
dilemma Burns was in no doubt as to what lie ought
to do: honour and justice required that he shouM
anticijiate the consequences by marriage. But his
farming speculations liad Ijeen an utter failure, so
that he was obliged to throw up his hhare of .Mo^s-
giel, of which his tenure had been only nominal ; and
having no home of his ov/n, an immediate marriage
was inij)ossil)Ie. He did however what he could,
by giving her what are called in .Scotland "marriage

lines" — a precontract that constitutes a marriage
according to law, and legitimates the offspring that
would otherwise be branded with shame, independent
of the sanctions of the church, which only visits such
offenders with rebuke and fine before it notifies the
union. With her character thus shielded, Jean was
to remain in the paternal home, while her affianced
husband was to repair to Jamaica, in the hope of
securing such a position as would enable him to
maintain a wife and family. But the discovery of
her state prematurely occurred, and her father was
in a transport of indignation. Even her marriage
lines were of no avail, as he thougjit that his
daughter's marriage with a man of such questionable
character, and in Jamaica, would be worse than
none. He therefore prevailed upon her to destroy
the written documents, and abide the consequences
of her imprudence. Burns was well-nigh distracted
at the cliange, and offered to stay at home and sup-
port his wife and children as he best could, by the
wages of a daily labourer; but the old man would not
relent; and when Jean Armour became the mother
of twins, he sent the sheriff-officers after Burns, to
compel him to find security for the sujqiort of his
children, although well aware that he could not. In
this difficulty the poet was obliged to flee to the
mountains, until he could muster enougli of money
to convey him to Jamaica. He had already obtained
tlie promise of a situation there, as an overseer or
book-keeper, and for the price of his passage he had
been advised to publish a collection of his poems by
subscription. To these strange circumstances his im-
mortal productions were indebted for theirappearance
before the world. Subscription papers were issued,
the printing of his little volume was commenced
in Kilmarnock, and these labours were alternated
with his preparations for the West India voyage.
Only 600 copies of this first edition were published,
and from the sale Burns had just realized enough for
the expenses of his expatriation; his chest had been
forwarded by night to Greenock, for fear of an arrest;
and he had composed the mournful ditty of llic
Gloomy Night is Gathering Juist, in ^\■hich he bade
farewell to his native district in the following mourn-
ful accents: —

" Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and windinj; vales,
The scenes where wretclied fancj' roves,
Pursuing past inihappy hives.
Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace wuh these — my love with those —
'J'he hursting tears my heart declare.
Farewell, tile bonnie banks of Ayr."

But when all was at the darkest the storm was dis-
persed, the sun broke out, and the whole landscape
was gladdened with the singing of birds and the
voice of joyful promise. His [loemshad been read not
merely with approbation, but with rapture and aston-
ishment. The littlei)ul)lication was not merely poetry,
but ])oetry of a new kind, or at least the long-lost an-
cient inspiration recalled to fresh life and utterance.
Among the foremost to recognize its excellence were
the peasantry, whose simple life and anient feelings
it eml)odie(l in tlieir own despised dialect; and
while they read, they wcjndered at the jioetical rich-
ness of their native Doric, and the i;enius of liin^
who had invested it with a power and altracliveness
hitherto unfelt. And rapidly these feelings contimieil
to widen until all classes were pervaded with their
iiifluL-nce. 7he great national jxjet had ajqjcared
nt last, and in the form of a half-educated jjloughman I
In the preface to the first edition of his vohnne, a
preface at once characterized by maidy indejUMKlenee
and modest timidity, Burns had tluis characterized
his attenqit : — "The author certainly looks upon

ROBERT BURNS.

257

himself as possessed of some poetic abilities, other-
wise his publishing in the manner he has done, would
be a man'i'uvre below the worst character, which,
he hopes, his worst enemy will ever give him. Hut
to the genius of a Ramsay, or the glorious dawnings
of the poor unfortunate Ferguson, he with equal un-
affected sincerity declares, that even in his highest
pulse of vanity, he has not the most distant preten-
sions." This he wrote in that humble spirit of self-
appreciation, the characteristic of genius of the
highest order, by which Burns was distinguished to
the close of his career. But the united voice of the
public at once contradicted this lowly estimate, and
|)laced him far above the level of Ferguson and
Ramsay. "When," it was asked, "had these poets
written anything to be compared to The Cottar's
Saturday Nt^ht, Hallinuecn, or Tani O'S/ianter:"

But while the poet's fame was growing with such
rapidity, something more immediate in its action
was necessary to save him from ruin or exile. Still
"the gloomy night was gathering fast," and relief
delayed until to-morrow might come too late. He
had successfully eluded the pursuit of his angry
father-in-law; his luggage was on board at Greenock,
and at the price of nine guineas he had secured a
steerage passage to Jamaica, where, on landing, he
would either be cut off by yellow fever, or committed
to the unpoetical duties of a negro-driver. And
what, under either alternative, would his genius, or
the renown he was winning, avail him? At such a
crisis relief appeared in the form of a blind old man.
This was Dr. Blacklock; and honoured be the man
that saved Burns to Scotland and the world at large!
A copy of the poems of Burns had been sent to him,
and their effect upon him was electric. Himself a
poet, he recognized in them poetry of the very
highest character; and, as free from envy as pure-
hearted childhood, he was impatient to announce his
admiration, and benefit the author. He wrote a
letter so full of encouragement, and inviting Burns so
cordially to try his fortune in the metropolis, that the
poet renounced his purpose of the Jamaica voyage
before it was too late. "I posted," he says, "away to
Edinburgh without a single actpiaintance, or a single
letter of introduction. The baneful star that had so
long shed its blasting influence on my zenith, for
once made a revolution to the nadir."

It was in November, 1786, that Bums for the first
time entered the Scottish capital, as if he had come
into a new world. He might have appeared and
walked among its throngs without notice, and passed
away unremembered, for his outward form was
not such as to separate him from the crowd. All
that met llie common view was a strongly-built
])easant in his best clothes, with a dark physiognomy,
and such a stoop as is generally acquired by hard-
working bodily labour, and no one at first sight
would have thought that this was the Apollo of
Scottish ]ioctry. It was only in company, and in
the glow of conversation, that his homely countenance
was lighted into elo<]uence, and his large black deep-
set eyes were more powerful than words. But as
such distinctive advantages could only be recognized
upon acquaintanceship, it was as well for Burns that,
though he carried no letters of introduction, he was
not unknown to Ivlininirgh. The first week or
two he resided chielly with .\yrshire acquaintances
in a state of o!<^cunty; but his productions in the
meantime were prs.'parii'.g tlie way fir liim, and be-
speaking a cordial welcnnie. .Mready he was known
by fame among sojne of the highest literary characters
in Kdinburgh. A critique wliich appean'd in the
Loun^L-r, giving "An Account of Roiiert Burns, the
Avrsliire I'loughman, witii Kxlracts from his I'oenis,"

VOL. I.

from the elegant pen of the author of the Man of
Fcelin;^, had not only wafted his reputation over
.Scotland, but had carrie<l it into England. These
were introduction enough, and as soon as it was
known that he was in Edinburgh, all classes were
eager to see him, and be admitted into his company.
Besides Dr. Blacklock, he could soon enrol among
his personal acquaintances, the Earl of Glcncairn,
Professor Dugald Stewart, Principal Robertson the
historian. Dr. Blair the eloquent divine. Dr. Gregory,
Frazer Tytler, and the greatest northern celebrities
of the day. It was a different society from that of
Mauchline and Tarbolton; but Burns was equal to
the occasion, and his conversational powers, instead
of lessening, only deepened the impression which
his poetical genius had created. His appearance,
demeanour, and bearing in such distinguished com-
panies are well described by one who was afterwards
to enjoy an intellectual reputation more varied, and
but a little lower than his own. Among Sir Walter
.Scott's interesting reminiscences of Burns are the
following: — "As for Bums, I may truly say, ' Vir-
milium z'idi tantuni.^ I was a lad of fifteen in
1786- 7, when he came first to Edinburgh, but ha<l
sense and feeling enough to be much interested m
his poetrj', and would have given the world to know
him; but I had very little acquaintance with any
literary people, and still less with the gentry of the
west countr}-, the two sets that he most frequented.
. . . As it was, I saw him one day at the late
venerable Professor Henderson's, where there were
several gentlemen of literary reputation, among
whom I remember the celebrated Dugald Stewart.
Of course we youngsters sat silent, looked and
listened. The only thing I remember which was
remarkable in Bums's manner was the effect pro-
duced upon him by a print of Banbury's, represent-
ing a soldier lying dead on the snow, his dog sitting
in misery on the one side, and on the other his
widow with a child in her arms. These lines were
written beneath: —

" Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain,
Perh.aps that parent wc-pt her soldier ^lain;
Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew.
The big drops mingling with the milk he drew.
Gave the sad presage of his future years.
The child of misery baptized in tears."
Bums seemed much affected by the print, or rather
the ideas which it suggested to his mind. He ac-
tually shed tears. He asked whose the lines were.
Init it chanced that nobody but myself remembered
that they occur in a half-forgotten poem of 1-arig-
horne's, called by the unpromising title of tlie
Justice of the Peace. I whispered my infjrma-
tion to a friend present, who mentioned it to Burros,
who rewarded me with a look and a word, which,
though of mere civility, I then received, and ^till
recollect, with very great pleasure."

The great delineator of .Scothmd and its i^coiIl-
then proceeds to the portraiture of the national
])oet : — "His person was strong and robust: hi^
manners rustic, not clownish; a sort i.'l digiiiticd
plainness and simplicity, which receiver part ol its
effect perhaps from onc-"s knowledge o| \\\-. txira-
ordinar)' talents. . . . I would have taken the j i.cr.
had I not known what he was. for a \cry .-a^'ac:ous
farmer of the old Scottish school — i.e. n.>:'.c ot your
modern agriculturists, who kt-cp l.-':'o.rcrs lor their
drudgciy, tint \\\iz douce .;:H:e>n:.i'. \\\\^ l.cM liisown
plough. There was a ;,!ro!!L; i-\;t\--. ^n "! scr.-e
and shrewdness in all hi> linciTnc::;-: tiic (_;.e al^nc,
I thnik, indicated the poctic.il chAra.trr ar.d tem-
perament. It was large, a.-vi (.:" a dark ca-t, a' d
glowc.l (I say litL-raliy ^.'.T, '■..•'1 uh.vn lie spoke w;-h
feeling or ir.l-jrc-t. 1 nevL-r -aw -ucli anuthrr eve

i?

ROBERT BURNS.

in a human head, though I have seen the most dis-
tinguished men in my time. His conversation ex-
])ressed perfect self-confidence, without the slightest
])resumption. Among the men who were the most
learned of their time and country, he expressed him-
self with perfect firmness, but without the least
intrusive for\vardness; and when he differed in
opinion, he did not hesitate to express it firmly, yet
at the same time with modesty."

Mention has been made of Dugald Stewart as
among the distinguished characters with whom Burns
associated in Edinburgh, and to the eye of the emi-
nent and accomplished philosopher the rustic bard
was a subject of intense psychological interest. As
he also associated frequently with Burns, and was
better qualified by matured years and the nature of
his studies to obtain a more complete insight into
the poet's mind than .Sir Walter could enjoy from
his single interview, his account gives features and
colouring to the picture which the former could only
sketch in outline. We select from it the following
extract, as it is too long to be given in detail : —

"His manners were then, as they continued ever
afterwards, simple, manly, and independent; strongly
expressive of conscious genius and worth; but without
anything that indicated forwardness, arrogance, or
vanity. He took his share in conversation, and not
more than belonged to him; and listened with ap-
jiarent attention and deference on subjects where his
want of education deprived him of the means of
information. If there had been a little more of
gentleness and accommodation in his temper, he
would, I think, have been still more interesting; but
he had been accustomed to give law in the circle of
his ordinary acquaintance, and his dread of anything
n.pproaching to meanness or servility rendered his
manner somewhat decided and hard. Nothing,
■perhajjs, was more remarkable among his various
attainments, than the fluency, and precision, and
originality of his language, when he spoke in com-
])any; more particularly as he aimed at purity in his
turn of expression, and avoided more successfully
than most .Scotchmen the peculiarities of .Scottish
■jihraseology. . . . The attentions he received during
his stay in town from all ranks and descriptions
of persons, were such as would have turned any
head but his own. I cannot say that I could per-
ceive any unfavourable effect which they left on his
mind. lie retained the same simplicity of manners
and appearance which had struck me so forcibly when
I first saw him in the countrj'; nor did he seem to
feel any additional self-importance from the number
and rank of his new acquaintance. ... He had a
very strong sense of religion, and expressed deep
regret at the levity with which he had heard it
treated occasionally in some convivial meetings
which he frcfpicnted. ... 1 do not recollect
whether it ap]K'ars or not from any of your letters
tome, that ever you had seen I'.urns. If you have,
it is superfluous for me to add, that the idea %\hich
his conversation conveycfl of the ]>owers of his mind
exceeded, if possible, that which is suggested by his
writings. Among the ])oets whom I have ha])[)ened
to know, I have been struck in more than one in-
stance with the unaccountable disi>arily between
their general talents and the occasional inspirations
<:)f their more favoured moments. But all the facul-
ties of Burns's mind were, as far as I could judge,
equally vigorous; and his predilection for j^oetry
was rather the result of his own entliusiastic and im-
passioned temper than (jf a genius exclusively ada])tcd
to that species of composition. Pnnn his conversa-
tion I should have jironounced him to be fitted to
excel in whatever walk of ambition he had chosen

to exert his abilities. ... I must not omit to
mention, what I have always considered as charac-
teristic in a high degree of true genius, the extreme
facility and good nature of his taste in judging of the
compositions of others, where there was any real
ground for praise. I repeated to him many passages
of English poetry with which he was unacquainted,
and have more than once witnessed the tears of
admiration and rajiture with which he heard them.
In judging of prose, I do not think his taste was
equally sound. . . . The influence of this taste is
very perceptible in his own prose compositions, al-
though their great and various excellencies render
some of them scarcely less objects of wonder than
his poetical performances. The late Dr. Robertson
used to say, that, considering his education, the
former seemed to him the more extraordinary of the
two. "

Such was Burns as he appeared for the first time
before the highest intellects of Edinburgh; and it
will be seen, that while they recognized the wonder-
ful talents and many-sided intellect of the Ayrshire
ploughman, it was with the homage that is due to a
superior genius. By a single stride he had stepped
from obscurity to an intellectual throne, while none
disputed his right to occupy it. And this was at
a time too when there were giants in the land — men
so eminent in every intellectual department that this
period might be called the Augustan era of Scot-
land. Every circle was eager to fete him, and
Bums was the honoured guest of every evening
party of rank and genius in the northern capital.
But more wonderful still than this sudden elevation,
was the equanimity with which he sustained it, so
that after he had passed through the ordeal, he re-
tained the same estimate of himself and of others as
before: such incense had neither impaired his intel-
lect, nor cormpted his heart. And well would it
have been for him had he in like manner escaped
the other contagions with which he was surrounded.
But with all its intellectual reputation, Edinburgh
had not yet thrown aside the besetting vice of the
national character, and at this time it enjoyed the
unenviable distinction of being one of the most
hard-drinking cities in Europe. Affairs of business
in every dejiartment were usually conducted in
taverns, and no evening party, however select, was
comi)lele without an immoderate amount of drinking
from which the most abstinent could not wholly
escape. In such a state of things, to rcmam uncon-
taminated would have been little less than miracu-
lous, more especially when the i^rcvious life of Burns,
and his fervid temperament, are taken into account.
His whole existence had been one of such difficulties
and privations as seldom fall even to the lot of
the peasantry, and his course had hitherto been one
of habitual abstinent sobriety, although checkered
with a few instances of social excess among the
smugglers of the coast of Carrick, or the rustics ol
Mauchline and Tarbolton. liut to find himself
suddenly elevated into the circles of rank, beauty,
and fashion, and playing a high part in the festive
conversations of the learned, the witty, and tin.-
elocjuent, was too much for humanity, or at least
the portion which had fallen to his share; the allure-
ment of the moment overmastered him; and ^\hile
he wiini f^ari fxissii with such attractive com])anions,
it was into paths that charmed him by their novelty,
and with a zest that made his return all the more
difficult. Thus the habit was formed which clouded
his after-life, and which the most enthusiastic of his
admirers .ire compelled to acknowled;;e arid de-
plore.

In coming to Edinburgh, one important object of

ROBERT BURNS.

259

Burns was to publish his poems anew; accordingly
a second edition was published by Creech early in
March, 1787; and as nearly 3000 copies were quickly
sold, his reputation was not only more widely dif-
fused than ever, but such a sum realized as enabled
him to su])port his expenses in Edinburgh, and after-
wards to undertake a tour over some of the most
interesting portions of his native country, and parts
of the ICnglish border. At his return, the greater
part of the winter of 1 787-8 was spent in Edinburgh,
where he was received with as hearty a welcome,
and involved in the same dissipation, as before. But
it was time that he should now settle down into the
occupations of his future life, and for this he was
])rovided with the means, as on settling with his
])ublisher Creech, in February, 1788, he found him-
self possessed of the clear sum of ^5'-'°- ^^^ ^^'
turned to his family, but no longer the same person
who had left it; for he was not only rich according
to peasant estimation, but had achieved an illustrious
reputation, and associated with the most distinguished
men of the land. One of his first acts was to ad-
vance ;if200 to his brother Gilbert, who was still
struggling with difiiculties on the farm of Mossgiel;
with the remainder of his capital, and other profits
that were still accruing from the sale of his poems,
he rented the farm of Ellisland on the Ijanks of the
Nitii, six miles above Dumfries, and entered into
occupation on Whitsunday, 17SS. Ilehad previously
applied to the board of excise, and been put on the
li>t for the office of exciseman, and this profession
he intended to combine with that of a farmer. His
next step was to marry Jean Armour, his betrothed
wife, who had twice made him tlie father of twins,
although only one of the four children she had borne
to him now survived. In such a union there was
no longer any difficulty with her parents, who were
now as eager to have him for their son-in-law as
they had formerly l)een averse to it. On thus enter-
ing into a regular married life, nothing could be
more heroic than the resolutions he formed to avoid
his former deviations, and commence in earnest a
steady, industrious, virtuous career. These resolu-
tions he thus expressed in his common-place book,
on Sunday the 14th of June, 1788: — "This is now the
third day that I have been in this country. 'Lord,
what is man!' ^Vhat a l^ustling little bundle of
passions, appetites, ideas, and fancies; and what
a capricious kind of existence he has here I . . .
I am such a coward in life, so tired of the service,
that I would almost at any time, with Milton's
Adam, gladly lay me in my mother's lap, and be
at peace. But a wife and children bind me to
struggle with the stream, till some sudden squall
shall overset the silly vessel, or, in the listless re-
turn of years, its own craziness reduce it to a wreck.
Farewell now lo those giddy follies, those varni-hed
vice?, which, though half sanctified by the bewitch-
ing levity of wit and humour, are at best but thrift-
less idling with the jirccious current of existence;
nay, oficn poisoning the whole, that, like the plains
of Jericho, the water is naught and the ground
barren, and nothing sliort of a supernaturally
gifted l-^li.-^ha can ever after heal the evils."

Thus repentant of the i)ast, and resolute upon a
course of amendment, IJurns resumed the simple life
of a firmer on settling at Ellisland. But a whole
arrav of dh-taclcs was opposed to the ]->urpo>cd
reformation. The luxuries of licli men'.- tallies had
indisposed him for the simjile ]ieasant fire of his
former lowlv condition. The varied and exciting
life he had led >ince the first inil>lication ot his poems
had unfitted him fir the plodding and ]iersevering
industry without which the work of farming cannot

be successfully carried on. An<l more than all were
the l)acchanalian indulgences in which he had re-
velled among the societies of the learned and dis-
tinguished in Jidinburgh, and which he was now
willing to repeat, although with diminished lustre,
among the bonnet-lairds and farmers of Dumfries-
shire. Ever)' tourist, also, who visited Scotland,
thought his task incomplete without enjoying an
interview with its great poet; and such interviews it
was impossible to hold without what were considered
the due rites of hospitality. Against these strong
temptations he continued to battle, and with such
partial success, that his constitution was as yet un-
broken; and although the allurements of social
excess were generally too much for him, he had not
as yet fallen into the habitual use of ardent spirits.
Under these circumstances, there was still hope of
recover)', and that a better course of life was await-
ing him, when his transition from a farmer to a
ganger decided the momentous question. His ap-
plication to the board of excise had been successful,
and he had been appointed exciseman of his district
with a humble salary of ^^50 per annum. He felt
the degradation of the office, of which he thus wrote
in one of his letters, "I am now a poor rascally
ganger, condemned to gallop two hundred miles
every week, to inspect dirty ponds and yeasty
barrels." But this continual travelling, and variety
of scene and action, he found more attractive than
monotonous occupation in the narrow limits of
Ellisland; so that while the work of the farm was
left to servants, who might waste or mismanage at
pleasure, his days were chiefly sjient on horseback,
and in a chase after smugglers among the hills and
dales of Nithsdale. Such explorations also were
calculated to confirm his irregular habits, and throw
him into society the least distinguished for tem-
perance and regularity. His farming speculations
proving a failure — as how could they otherwise in
such circumstances? — he, at the end of three years
and a half, abandoned Ellisland, and at the close
of 1 79 1 removed with his family to a small house
in the town of Dumfries, having been ap])ointed
exciseman to a new district, the emoluments of
which were about /^"jo per annum. It was there,
alas ! that his irregularities grew into confirmed
habits, which finally hurried him into an untimely
grave. Of tliis period of his life the following
account, given by Heron in his Life of Burns, is too
fully borne out liy general testimony to be contra-
dicted:— "In Dumi^iies his dissipation became still
more deeply habitual. He was here exposed more
than in the country, to be solicited to share the riot
of tlie dissolute and the idle. Foolish young men.
such as writers' ajiprentices, young surgeons, mer-
chants' clerks, and h.is brother excisemen, flocked
eagerly about him, and from time to time ]>re---ed
him to drink with them, that they might enjoy his
wicked wit. The Caledonian Club, too, ami tin.-
Dumfries and (ialloway Hunt, had occasirmal meet-
ings at Dumfries after Burns came to reside iheie.
and the poet was of ci:iur.-e invited to sliare :Ium
hospitality, and hesitated not to acccji'. tiic in.viia-
tion. The morals of the to-.\ n were, :n eor.se-
cpience of its becoming so nuich tlie -cer.e oi
■|iublic amusement, iiot a liilie c- M-n:;''.ed, and.
though a hu.-liand and a failier, \\\\\\\- did \vA escaj c
suffering liy the general coritaniina: ;oii. ::i a ir.anr.er
which I forbear to descrilie. In tlie intervals
between his different fi;> of ir.teni; er.ince. he suf-
fered the keene-t angui-li of reiiiT-e and IiorriMy
ai'tlictive foresight. ll:s Jean Lc'aavcd with a de-
gree oi materr.al n;ii e in;r.-;ai tenderne.-s and
prudence, whicli made Ir.m teel more bitterly the

26o

ROBERT BURNS.

evils of his misconduct, though they could not
reclaim him."

Amidst this desperate struggle between his better
resolutions and his trespasses, in which every lapse
was seen in its true light only when too late, and
followed by the unavailing tortures of self-reproach
and resolutions of reformation that proved ecjually
unavailing, Burns had not abandoned the high voca-
tion by whicli he was set apart from other men. At
Ellisland, indeed, it appears from his letters, that he
wrote little poetry, and for this the nature of his posi-
tion may sufficiently account. He had commenced
the important work of life in earnest, the every-day
realities of which were scarcely favourable to poetical
ideality; and after what he had already achieved, he
might repose for a while upon his laurels. But in 1 792
a call was made upon his muse to which he could not
be inattentive. In that year Mr. George Thomson,
clerk of the honourable board of trustees in Edin-
burgh, and distinguished as a musical amateur, pro-
jected a work entitled ",/ Sdcct Collection of Origi-
nal Scottish Airs for the I'oice: to which are added.
Introductory and Concluding Symphonies and Ac-
companiments for the Piano Forte and Violin, by
Pleyel and Korleuck, with Select and Cliaracteristic
Verses by the most admired Scottish Poets." It was
a patriotic enterprise as well as a labour of love on
the part of Mr. Thomson, who, far from rich, was
yet willing to peril all liiat he had on a costly publi-
cation by which the song-music of his country was
to be i^reserved. But without the aid and co-opera-
tion of Burns, how could sucii a purpose be fulfilled?
It was natural tliat tiie erlitor shcndd api^ly to the
author of the Cottai-'s Saturday A'ight, and he in-
voked him, "forthe honour of Caledonia," to takeup
the pen, and write twenty or twenty-five songs suited
to the particular melodies which he was prepared
to send him — hinting, at the same time, a reason-
able pecuniary remuneration. Burns was already
a large contributor to yohnson''s Musical Museum,
but no sooner did Mr. Tiiomson's application arrive
than he returned a cordial assent. He was ready
to reform the old national songs, as well as to write
new ones. But the idea of payment for his contribu-
tions he peremptorily and indignantly rejected. "As
to any remuneration," he wrote, "you may think
my songs either above or below price; for tliey shall
absolutely be the one or tiic other. In the honest
enliuisiasm with which I embark in your undertak-
ing, to talk of money, wages, fee, liirc, &c., would
be downright ])rostitution of soul! A proof of each
of tlie songs thnt I com[)ose or amend, I shall receive
as a favour." And this from a man with a wife and
family, and only seventy ]iounds a year ! But ])oetry,
in his eyes, was too sacred a commodity to be sold;
and so long as he was free fixim a jad or absolute
starvation, he would give it cheerfully and without
price. Tile result was, that instead of twenty or
twenty-five sf)ngs, the number originally s]iecified, he
contributed to Thomson's collection 150, of which
more than one lialf were wholly original, and the rest
eitlier improvements of f)ld verses, or verses of his
own which had previously a]>])eared in fohiisoiPs
Museum. And could sucli songs bi: written by an
author with the fumes of strong drink in his head, or
whose flelicacy of genius and strength of intellect a
course of habitual intemperance had inquired? l)o
they not rather ]irovc that the excesses of the ])oet
wliile he lived in Dumfries have been overdrawn, and
that his al)errations, however culi>able, were rather
occasional than habitual?

But however j^artial his lapses may have been,
they were now to be visited with their natural retri-
bution. T!ie early hypochondriacal tendencies of his

constitution had admonished him of the dangers of
intemperance in vain, and the temporary cure which
he sought in stimulants and exciting society had
confirmed the disease beyond remedy. More than
a year before his death, there was a decline in his
personal appearance, and from October, 1795, to the
January following a severe rheumatism confined him
to the house. He had scarcely recovered, and was
still in a state of debility, when he imprudently joined
a party at a tavern dinner, where the merriment
was kept up till about three in the morning. The
weather was severe, and Burns, who was intoxicated,
is said to have fallen asleep upon the snow in his
way home. On the following morning his rheuma-
tism returned upon him with redoubled violence, and
after languishing under it till the middle of summer,
he repaired to Brow in Annandale, on the shore of
the Solway Firth, hoping to effect a recovery by
sea-bathing. But he soon felt that his days were
numbered. Mrs. Riddell of Glenriddel, a beautiful
and accomplished lady, and a friend of the poet,
happened at that time to be residing in the neighbour-
hood, and her interview with him, of which she has
left a full account, gives us a distinct idea of the last
days of Burns. The stamp of death was on his
features, and with that playfulness which is often
more expressive of sadness than mirth, he said, on
entering the room, "Well, madam, have you any
commands for the other world?" In the conversa-
tion that followed, he spoke of his approaching death
with firmness, but also with feeling, and his princi])al
sorrow was for his four young children who would
be left unprotected, and for his wife, who was hourly
expected to be delivered of a fifth. He then passed
to the subject of his poems, and especially the publi-
cation of his posthumous works, and regretted that
every scrap he had written would be revived and
printed to the injury of his future reputation, when he
was no longer at hand to vindicate it. He also re-
gretted the epigrams he had penned on persons aganist
whom he entertained no enmity, and his indifferent
poetical pieces, which, after his death, would be thrust
upon the world with all their imperfections on their
head; and expressed his sorrow for having delayed
to put his pa]iers into a proper state of arrangement,
as it was now too late. "I have seldom," adds Mrs.
Riddell, "seen his mind greater or more collected.
There was frequently a considerable degree of vivacity
in his sallies, and they would probably have had a
greater share, had not the concern and dejection I
could not disguise damped the spirit of ]>lcasantry
he seemed not unwilling to indulge. We parted
about sunset on the evening of thnt day (the 5th of
July, 1795); the next day 1 saw him again, and we
jiarted to meet no more."

l-"inding no relief from bathing, and having a fresh
attack of fever. Burns on the l8th of July was brought
back to Dumfries, but so greatly enfeebled, that he
could no |c)nger stand upright. It was known that
his case ^\•as ]")ast all htjpe, and the town was
darkened as with the gloom of a jiublic calamity.
His faults and failings were forgot, all ranks and
classes united in a connnon sympathy, and wherever
two or tliiee townsfolks were assembled in the streets,
their talk was of the ]ioet, of his wonderful genius
and lovea1)Ie qualities, and how greatly their town
and Scotland at large would be a loser by his de-
jiarture. Nor was that event long in following, for
he died on the 2lst of July, the third day after his
return iiome. On the 26th he was buried, and with
such olisen^uies as are not always accorded t'l the
highe>.t rank; f)r besides the volunteers of Dumfries,
the feiicihle infantry of Angus-shire and the cavalry
of the Cir.que Port's, then quartered at Dumfries,

ROBERT BURNS

SIR ROBERT CALDER.

261

who marched at the funeral with their banners and
military music, about ten or twelve thousand persons
followed them in procession, many of whom had
travelled from a great distance to be present at the
solemnity. If anything also could deepen such a
sorrowful scene, it was an event which at that
moment was occurring in the house of mourning, for
Mrs. Burns was at the same time delivered of a
])osthumous son, who died in infancy. Nor did the
l)ublic symjjathy here terminate, for, as the poet died
])oor, an immediate exertion followed in behalf of
his family, for whose support upwards of ;^700 were
collected; and this sum, with the profits of Dr.
Curric's Z//c' and Edition 0/ Burns, formed such
a fund as their father had never possessed while
living, and furnished his children with the means of
an excellent education that fitted them for the
honourable career which was afterwards opened up
to them. The less substantial but more public
honours to his memory succeeded; the street in
which he had lived was thenceforth, by the authority
of the magistrates of Dumfries, named Burns Street;
a mausoleum to his memory was erected in the
churchyard where he lies buried, and another near
the Calton Hill, Edinburgh; and a yearly anniversary
was established, on which day all who value his
writings and revere his worth, in whatever country
of both hemispheres, assemble to talk of our national
poet, and the benefit which his works have conferred
not merely upon Scotland, but upon humanity at
large, and for all future time.

The family of Robert Bums by Jean Armour con-
sisted, from first to last, of five sons and four
daughters; but all the latter died in early youth,
and also two of the former, leaving only three
survivors out of such a numerous family. Of these,
Robert the eldest, a retired clerk of the accountant-
general's department, died at Dumfries; the youngest,
Lieut. -col. James (ilencairn Burns, of the K. I. C.'s
service, died at Cheltenham in 1866; and of the
whole family none now survive but William Nicoi
Burns, also a colonel of the E. I. C, who retiretl
from the service about twenty years ago, at the same
time as his brother James, and lived with him at
Cheltenham. ]5ut no grandson of the poet by the
male line is living, his only grandchildren being two
females, the daughters of Colonel James. Thus
Robert Burns has shared in the mournful distinction
reserved for poets only of the highest order- no
grandson of his by the male line will found a family
that will represent him to future generations. Thus,
in common with Shakspeare, Milton, and Scott, he
must pay the price for such a lasting name, and
renown that will be imperishable. At his death, his
partner, "bonnie Jean," was still young, and fully
deserving of her title; but true to the memory of her
first and only affection, she continued unmarried,
and after living honoured and beloved by all who
knew her, died in March, 1834, in her seventieth
year.

BUTE, E.\RL OF. See Stu.vrt, James.

c.

CALDER, Sir Robert, Bart. It has been
truly remarked l)y Ilallam, that the state trials of
England exhibit the most aj^palling accumulation of
judicial iniquity that can be found in any age or
country. And why? Because, as he adds, the
monarch cannot wreak his vengeance, or the nobles
vent the bitterness of their feuds, except in a law
court, and by a legal process. The trials connected
with the history of the British navy, and the ini-
fiuitous sentences passed upon some of our most
heroic and deserving admirals, attest too fully the
truth of Ilallam's observation. Byng, Matthews,
Cochrane — the first shot, the second cashiered, and
the ll)irtl imprisoned, from no adequate cause, or
without cause whatever — are cases that seem to carry
us back, not to the dark ages, when heroism at least
was fairly appreciated, but to the old Carthaginian
]K'riods, when the bravest generals were crucified as
often as their rivals entered into place and power.
A fourth British admiral, wlio was the victim of an
unjust trial and most undeserved punishment, was
Sir Robert CaKler, the subject of the present notice.
And we iudge it the more necessary to introduce
him with the preceding remarks, as it is only now,
after the lapse of many years, that men are disposed
to reader full justice to his memory and worth.

Koljcrt Calcier was the second son of Sir Thomas
Calder of Muirton, Morayshire, and was born at
Elgin on tlie 2d of July, 1745. .\t the age of four-
teen he entered the navy as m;d>hipnian. At the
age of tweuty-onc he had attained the rank of
lieutenant on board the /.".>.>r.v, commanded by the
Hon. George Ealkner. and served on the West
India station. rroni<iti>)ii, linwc\or. was long in
coming, for it was not until aUer manv vears tliat

he obtained the command of a ship. In 1782 he
was captain of the Diana, which was employed as
a repeating- frigate to Rear-admiral Kempenfelt. At
this period, also, he was an unwilling sharer in one
of those events which the British historian is com-
pelled to record to the shame of our glorious \\z.\\.
The united fleets of Erance and Spain had appeared
upon our coasts; but .Sir Charles Hardy, who com-
manded the English fleet, was ordered not to risk
an engagement, so that he was obliged to retire
between the Wolf-rock and the Main. Such an
inglorious retreat, at a time when the flag of Rodney
was triumphant, so maddened our gallant tars, that
they muftled with their hammocks a figiu'e-head of
George HI., swearing that his majesty should not
be witness of their flight. Captain Calder, who
belonged to the rear-division, so fully sympathized
in their feelings, that, although his vessel was within
a short distance of a large Erench two-decker, tliat
could have blown him out of the water by a single
broadside, he kept his jilace, until he wa> jcieniji-
torily ordered by signal to retire.

On the renewal of war with France. C.-.j'tain ("p.lder
was enijdoyed in various services, Ironi wIklIi little
individual distinction was to be nc(iuirc(l ; Inu in
these he acquitted himself so well ."< to c>'..^.l>;:>!i lii,-
character for naval skill and coura-c. He w a~ t;ria!ly
ajipointed captain of the fleet by Sir Jwlm Jci vi-. and
was present at the nicnvirah'c en^-agcnunt v\ the
I4lh of February. 1707. ot'f Caj^c >:. \'inLcn;. wl.en
the Spanish fleet of twcnty->evcn >ail of tlx- r.ne and
twelve frigates wa^ completely i!e!ca!(.-il by Jorvi^,
with only fit'teeii >hij'> and -:\ fri-ato. ( 1:1 tiiis
great occasion. wIktc .\e',-"n ai;d CuJingwi » k1 were
the heroes of the eiicuur.tcr, Captain Cakler ac-

262

SIR ROBERT CALDER.

quitted himself so ably, that on being sent home
with the despatches, he was honoured with knight-
hood, and afterwards made a baronet. On the 14th
of February, 1799, he rose in the service by seniority
to the rank of rear-admiral; and in 1 801 was sent
with a small squadron in chase of Admiral Gan-
theaume, who was carrying supplies to the French
army in Egj'pt. A short-lived peace followed, and
Sir Robert Calder retired to his residence in Hamp-
shire, from which he was quickly recalled to sea by
the renewal of hostilities with France; and in 1804
he was raised to the rank of Vice-admiral of the
White.

This fresh commencement of war was an event of
more than common importance to Great I5ritain.
Its liberty, its very existence as a nation, were now
at stake; for Bonaparte, hitherto so successful in all
his enterprises, had resolved to invade it, and for
this purpose was making preparations at Boulogne
commensurate with what he meant to be his crown-
ing enterprise. An immense flotilla was constructed
and put in readiness to convey an army of 150,000
veteran soldiers from Boulogne to the shores of Kent,
after which, a march ujion London was deemed an
easy achievement. Still further to insure the facili-
ties of such an invasion, these flat-bottomed tran-
sports were ostentatiously armed, as if they alone
were intended to force a passage across the British
Channel, and thus the attention of our statesmen was
withdrawn from the real point where danger was to
be apprehended. This consisted in the contemplated
junction of the French and .Spanish lleets, which was
to be effected while tlie eyes of England were ex-
clusively fixed upon the land show of preparations
going on at Boulogne. While these warlike boats
were intended for transports, and nothing more.
Napoleon's real design was to collect forty or fifty
ships (jf the line in the liarbour of Martinique, by
operations combined in the harbours of Toulon,
Cadiz, Ferrol, and Brest; tf) bring them suddenly
back to Boulogne; and while thus making himself
f jr fifteen days master of the sea, to have his whole
army transported into England without interruption.

Never, perhaps, since the days of William the
Concjueror, had England been in such imminent
jeopardy. While her statesmen were still tlirown
off their guard, and imagining that the only danger
lay in the flotilla, the vessels preparing in the ports
of P'errol, Cadiz, and Carthagena consisted of thirty-
eight P'rench and thirty Sijanish ships of the line;
and these, if combined, would have been sufficient
U) hold the I'^nglish Channel against all the force
which our nati(jn could muster. To attempt a
blockade of the hostile harbours was the only ex-
pedient tliat occurred to the British government in
this emergency, and the imi)ortant task of blockading
the ports of Ferrol and Corunnawas intrusted to .Sir
Robert Calder. Evlmi yet, however, tiie design of
Bonaparte was so little surmised, that Sir Rol)crt's
force on this occasion was utterly incommensurate
with the greatness of the crisis, for only seven sail
were allowed him, which were afterwards raised to
nine; and with these he was to prevent five French
ships of the line and three frigates, and five Spanish
siiips of the line and four frigates, from leaving the
hostile harbours. Thus the blockade was to be
maintained by a force which was greatly inferior to
that of the enemy. Undismayed by this disparity,
Sir Robert entered his appointed station, and main-
tained it, notwithstanfling the manreuvres of the
Brest squadron to entice him into the o]>en sea.

At length the moment arrived which Bonajiarte
had anticipated. The imperfect blockades of the
British liad been in several cases eluded; the West

Indies had been reached by several hostile squadrons;
and Nelson, who had gone in pursuit without being
able to reach them, only learned at the last moment
that the combined French and Spanish fleets had
set sail from Martinique, and were in full return to
Europe. A swift-sailing vessel, which he sent with
this intelligence, happily outstripped the combined
fleet, and thus, at the last moment, and by an inter-
vention truly providential, the British government
was put upon its guard. The first movement of
the enemy, to which they were directed in conse-
quence of the express command of Bonaparte, was
to raise the blockade of Pyrrol, and that accom-
plished, to proceed with the French and Spanish
ships lying there to the relief of the other ports, by
which their whole combined navy would be collected
in full force in the English Channel. Sir Robert
Calder was thus to abide the first brunt of the onset,
and upon the stoutness of his resistance the issue of
the great trial between P" ranee and England would
mainly depend. Conscious of this, the British
government despatched instant orders to Rear-
admiral .Stirling, who commanded a squadron before
Rochefort, to raise the blockade of that harbour,
join Sir Robert Calder off Ferrol, and cruise with
him off Cape P^inisterre, to intercept the allied fleet
of the enemy on their homeward passage to Brest.

As soon as the junction between the two British
squadrons was effected, Sir Robert Calder stood out
to sea, and quickly reached the station appointed
for his cruise. Although the addition of Stirling's
squadron raised his whole force to nothing more
than fifteen ships of the line, two frigates, a cutter,
and a lugger, he had little fear of the issue, as the
PVench and Spanish fleet was supposed to amount
to only sixteen ships. But as soon as the enemy
hove in sight, looming through a fog that had con-
cealed their approach until they were close at hand,
it was found that they consisted of twenty line-of-
battle ships, a fifty gun-ship, seven frigates, and two
brigs. This was an unexpected and startling dis-
parity; but Sir Robert boldly entered into action,
although the fog that had commenced in the morning
made it necessary for his shi])s, which bore down in
two columns, to tack before they reached the enemy.
A close action of four hours ensued, in %\hich the
British, notwithstanding their inferiority of numbers,
behaved with such gallantry and spirit that a signal
victory would probably have been the consequence,
had it not been for the haze, which became so dense
that Sir Robert was scarcely able to see his ships
either ahead or astern. As it was, he had already
cajitured two large Spanish .shi])s, the Kafad of
eighty-four, and the /v;-wt' of seventy-four guns; and,
judging it inqirudent to continue the fight, he
brought to, for the juirpose of covering his prizes,
and waiting an opportunity to renew the engage-
ment. On the following day the P'rench and .Spanish
fleet, having the advantage of the windward, ad-
vanced within a league and a half of the Britisli.
upon which, -Sir Robert, hauling on the wind, offered
them battle; but Villeneuve, the admiral of the com-
bined fleet, refused the challenge, by hauling to the
wind on the same tack as his adversary. On the
third day Sir Robert once more offerefl battle, but
in vain; and, being now justly ajiprehensive of the
union of the enemy with the Rochefort and Ferrol
squadrons, under whose combined force his own
would have been overwhelmed, he fell back, relying
upon tiie sup])ort of the Channel fleet, or that of
Lord Nelson; while Villeneuve, instead of holding
on in his course, was fain to retire into P'errol. This
meeting, that was fraught with such momentous con-
sequences, occurred in lat. 43^ 30' north, and long.

SIR ROBERT CAI.DER.

263

11" 17' west, or about forty leagues from Ferrol, on
the 22d of July, 1805.

Notliing could exceed the rage and vexation of
Napoleon at this engagement and its result. He
saw that, by this single stroke, all his preparations
at Boulogne were frustrated, and the projected in-
vasion of England rendered hopeless. As soon as
he received the tidings, he summoned Count Daru,
his private secretary, into the apartment, who, on
entering, found the emperor traversing the room
with hurried steps, and exclaiming, "What a navy!
What sacrifices for nothing! What an admiral! All
hope is gone! That V^illcneuve, instead of entering
the Channel, has taken refuge in Ferrol! It is all
over: he will be blockaded there. Dani, sit down
and write." Daru took u\) his pen accordingly, and,
with the rapidity of lightning. Napoleon dictated the
details of the breaking up of the army at Boulogne,
the routes and movements of the different corps, and
all the complicated minutioe of the campaign that
euded so triumphantly at Austeilitz. In this manner
the terrible st(jrm that was to have gathered and
burst over London, was suddenly wafted away to
the shores of the Danube and the devoted palaces of
Vienna. Speaking of his disappointment in after
years, Bonaparte said, "If Admiral Villeneuve,
instead of entering into the harbour of Ferrol, had
contented himself with joining the Spani>h scjuadron,
and instantly made sail for Brest, and joined Admiral
( jantheaume, my army would have embarked, and
it was all over with England."

While sucli was the judgment of Napoleon upon
this event — and certainly no one was so fitted to
foretell its consequences — a veiy different estimation
was made of it in England. There, a long series of
naval victories had so pampered the public vanity,
that the defeat of a Britisii fleet was deemed im-
possible, and anything short of its full success a proof
of the most culpable negligence and shortcoming.
It was the counterjiart of that land-delusion which
made our countrymen imagine that every Briton was
able to beat three Frenchmen, until subsequent
events reduced them to a more reasonal)le calcula-
tion. Of this overweening estimate Sir Robert
Calder was soon to taste the bitter fruits. He had
encountered a fleet, no matter how superior to his
own, and not annihilated it; he had allowed it to
slip through his fingers, and find shelter in a friendly
harbour. In the meantime, the unconscious victim
of such unreasonable oljloquy was congratulating
him.^elf on his services, and anticipating nothing less
than the approbation of his country. With an in-
ferior force he had blocked up the enemy in port for
nearly five months; he had afterwards encountered
and held the combined fleet at bay when their ships
greatly outnumbered his own, and made two valu-
able captures without losing a single vessel. These
advant.ages were so justly appreciated by Lord Corn-
wallis, his superior in command, that on the 17th of
.Vugust, 1S05, Calder was sent back with twenty
ships to Ferrol, from whicli Villeneuve had ventured
out at the express commanil of Napoleon, to join the
French lleet at Brest; but, on hearing of Sir Robert
Calder's ajiproach, instead of pur-~uing his course,
he tacked aliout and made sail for Cadiz, which he
reache<l on tlie 2ist. Tims Calder had the honour
of battling, f)r the second time, an expedition, ujion
which the fate of England was at stake; and Vil-
leneuve, sluit ui^ in Cadi/, was obligeil to remain at
anciiorage there, until all was ready fur the crushing
disaster at Trafalgar.

But the same winds that carried Calder against
his antagonist, and enabled liim once more to battle
the most cherished of Napoleon's objects, also bore

to his ears the murmurs of the admiralty at home,
and brought to him the public prints in which his
courage as a British sailor, and his loyalty as a
British subject, were equally called in question.
Indignant at these aspersions, and the eagerness
with which they were received, he resolved to right
himself by a public trial. He therefore demanded
from the lords of the admiralty the sitting of a court-
martial upon his conduct, notwithstanding the earnest
entreaties of Nelson that he should remain on the
station, and await the expected engagement, in which
his reputation woukl be fully cleared. On finding,
however, that his brother-admiral was impatient of
an hour's delay until his character was vindicated,
the hero of the Nile sent him home in the J'rince
of WaUs, his own ship of ninety gmns, to do Calder
the greater honour, although such a diminution from
the fleet could be ill spared at that i)eriod. (Jn the
arrival of the vessel at .Spithead, the court-martial
was held on board on the 23d of December, 1805.
.•\fter the witnesses had been examined. Sir Robert
entered upon his defence. He cjuoted several recent
cases in which our best naval commanders hafl re-
frained from the renewal of an encounter without
any impeachment of the propriety of their forbear-
ance. He stated that the Rochefort and Ferrol
squadrons, to the number of twenty sail of the line,
were supposed to be at sea when the battle of the
22d of July occurred; and that had he waited for
their junction with the enemy, whose force already
so greatly exceeded his own, he must have been
utterly overpowered. Even had he been only dis-
abled in the encounter, these united squadrons might
have pressed onward for Ireland, or even fir England,
and thus have facilitated the long-threatened inva-
sion of our countr)-. In this case, it was necessar\'
to preser\^e his fleet for ulterior operations instead of
risking a renewal of the action, and the mf)re espe-
cially, that on the morning after the battle, he fouu'i
himself eight or nine miles to leeward, while some
of his ships were so greatly disabled, that they couM
not carry sufficient sail to windward, and others were
wholly out of sight. Matters being such, and lie-
lieving that the design of the enemy was to reach
Ferrol, and there unite with the blockaded squadron.
he had done what he could: he had thrown himseb"
between the port of Ferrol and the coml)ined fleet
for two days under an easy press of sail, neither offer-
ing nor shunning an encounter; and as often as the
enemy menaced a renewal of action, he had accepted
the challenge by hauling up his wind. All this he
stated at large, and with the most convincing per-
spicuity; and at the close he burst forth with indig-
nant elociuence upon the wrong with which hini-cli
and his brave companions had been treated, and the
manner in which his despatches had been mutilated,
and some important parts of them suppre.--e(i. Bu'.
his arguments and his elocjuence were in vain; a
scape-goat was needetl to carry off upon its inr.occi.t
head the manifold blunder- of the admiralty, and >ir
Robert Calder hail been>clected for this I'lfice. H:>
defence accordingly was overruicl, and nn t!ic ^''tii
the following sentence was jn-unuar.CL'l : — '" 1 !;••-•
court is of opinion, that the cliarge d r. 't I.av;r.;
done his utmn-t to rciiL-w tiic cnL^r.gt-iiur.t. ar.w i"
take and de>troy every >li-p .>f ihe cnLni'.-. !..;> been
proved again>t llie said \'icc-admi:.i! >ir R^'bcr:
Calder; that it ajiiK-ars that hi- cindua h.:> n^.t been
actuated either by cowardice ^r d.-ilrcct; ';i. 1 t;t i-.n-
arisen solely I'mni error in jr.'l.:;r.v:i". .t:; i i- tugh!/
censurable, and duth ad'u :.;■-■ ii::n !•> I'e SL-veiv'.y
rej^rimanded; and the .-ai i \'; .r-a>".;;i:r.il >ir RuiR-:r
Cald.er is herel)y -L-vcrcly il ; : -n.-ir. ini .icl' inlnig]}-.
It would be ridiculoi:-, m the jTes^iu day. wl.v'.i

264

DAVID CALDERWOOD.

the conduct of this gallant admiral is so well un-
derstood, and the greatness of his services so
thoroughly appreciated, to allude to the injustice of
such a sentence. It stands solitary and aloof, with
the brand upon its forehead, and can only now con-
demn none but its authors. In the defence of Sir
Robert Calder, we perceive that he had made an
indignant allusion to the mutilation and curtailment
of his despatches. This serious charge unfortunately
was too true, and the admiralty itself was guilty of
the crime. In their published account, the following
passage of Sir Robert was retained: — "The enemy
are now in sight to windward; and when I have
secured the captured ships, and put the squadron to
rights, I shall endeavour to avail myself of any fur-
ther opportunity that may offer to give you a further
account of these combined squadrons." In con-
sequence of this announcement, a meeting between
the hostile fleets for the renewal of the contest was
anticipated; and as the hours went onward, the
public ear in London was on the alert for the firing
of the Tower guns, to announce a glorious victory.
But the following passage, which would have abated
this ardour, was omitted: — "At the same time, it
will beliove me to be on my guard against the com-
l)ined squadrons in Ferrol, as I am led to believe
that they have sent off one or two of their crippled
ships last night for that port; therefore, possibly I
inay find it necessary to make a junction with you
immediately off Ushant with the whole squadron."
Had the admiralty publislied tliis part of Sir Robert's
despatch, as they ought to have done, the nation
would have seen at once that it was impossiljle, with
only fourteen ships ready for action, to encounter
the opposite eighteen, should the latter be joined by
the twenty line-of-battle ships whose arrival was
hourly expected. But a sensation was to be pro-
duced, and hope excited, and therefore the chilling
paragraph was fraudulently withheld. And when
no victory ensued, the perpetrators of this deed en-
deavoured to conceal their l)Umder, and avert the
public wrath, by a condemnation tliat ought to have
i'allen, not upon Calder, but upon themselves.

Although the sentence of the court-martial was
expected to soothe the popular disappointment, and
i'or a short time succeeded, yet let no statesman ven-
ture upon such experiments with the British public.
John iiuU is reckoned indeed the very type of gul-
libility, and with good reason; Init the honesty of
heart in which this weakness originates is sure to
recover the ascendancy, and examine the trial anew,
in which case, tlie false witness and unrighteous
judge have equally cause to treml:>lff. Thus it was
in the case of -Sir Robert Calder. The public began
to suspect that lie had lieen unjustly dealt with, and
further inciuiry only strengthened the suspicion. The
same feeling, although more tardily, at length ob-
tained entrance into liead-c|uarters; and in 1810 Mr.
Vorke, then first lord of the admiralty, ventured to
express his conviction that .Sir Rc^bert had deserved
very different treatment. In ]:)arliament, also, the
same sentiment was expressed by the Duke of Nor-
folk and the Earl of Romney. The result of this
n.-turn to a jjroper feeling, was the offer to Sir
Robert, on the ])art of Mr. \'orke, of the important
command of Plymouth, which the former accepted
as a testimony of his acquittal and recognition of his
])ul)lic services and worth. After .Sir Robert Calder
iiad held the appointment for three years, he died at
Holt, near Bishop's Waltham, in Hants, on the 31st
of August, 181 8, in the 74th year of his age.

CALDERWOOD, David, an eminent divine
and eccle.iia.-itical historian. The year of his birth,

the place of his education, and the character of the
family from which he was descended, are all alike
unknown. The earliest ascertained fact of his life
is his settlement, in 1604, as minister of Grading, in
Roxburghshire. Being a zealous supporter of the
principles of presbytery, he set himself with all his
might to oppose the designs of the court, which
aimed at the introduction of a moderate episcopacy.
In 1608, when the Bishop of Glasgow paid an
official visit to the synod of Merse and Teviotdale,
Mr. Calderwood gave in a paper declining his juris-
diction. For this act of contumacy he was confined
for several years to his parish, so as to prevent his
taking any share in the public business of the church.
In the summer of 161 7 King James paid a visit to
Scotland, for the purpose of urging forward his
episcopal innovations. On this occasion, while the
parliament was considering how to intrust powers of
ecclesiastical supremacy to the king, the clergy were
convened to deliberate in a collusive manner, so
that everything might appear to be done with the
consent and approbation of the church. This
assemblage was attended by the bishops, who affected
to consider it an imitation of the convocations of the
English Church. Calderwood, being now permitted
to move about, though still forbidden to attend
synods or presbyteries, appeared at this meeting,
which he did not scruple to proclaim as in no respect
a convocation, but simply a free assembly of the
clergy. Finding himself opposed by some friends of
the bishops, Mr. Calderwood took leave of them in
a short but pithy speech, allusive to the sly attempts
of the king to gain the clergy, by heightening their
stipends: — "It was absurd," he said, "to see men
sitting in silks and satins, crying poverty in the kirk,
while purity was departing." He assisted, however,
at another meeting of the clergy, where it was re-
solved to deliver a protest to parliament against a
particular article, or bill, by which the power of
framing new laws for the church was to be intrusted
to an ecclesiastical council appointed by the king.
This protest was signed by Mr. Archibald Simpson,
as representing all the rest, who, for his justification,
furnished him with a roll containing their own signa-
tures. One copy of the document was intrusted to a
clergyman of the name of Hewat, who, having a seat
in ]3arl lament, undertook to present it. Another re-
mained with Mr. Simpson, in case of accident. Mr.
Ilewat's copy having been torn in a disjnite with
Archbishop Spottiswoode, Mr. Simpson presented
his, and was soon after called before the tyrannical
court of high commission, as a stirrer up of sedition.
Being pressed to give up the roll containing the
names of his abettors, he acknowledged it was now
in the hantls of Mr. David Calderwood, who was
then cited to exhibit the said roll, and, at the same
time, to answer for his seditious and mutinous be-
haviour. The commission court sat at St. Andrews,
and the king having come there himself, had the
curiosity to examine Mr. Calderwood in jjcrson.
.Some of the persons jiresent came up to the peccant
divine, and, in a friendly manner, counselled him to
"come in the king's will," that his majesty might
jiardoii him. liul Mr. Calderwood entertained too
strong a sense of the ^iropriety and imiiortance of
what he had been doing, to yield up the point in
this manner. "Tliat which was d(jne," he said,
"was done with deliberation." In the conversation
which ensued i:)etwixt the king and him, the
reader will be surprised to find many of the most
interesting points of modern liberty asserted with
a firmness and dignity worthy of an ancieiil
Roman.

Kini^. \Vhat moved you to protest?

DAVID CALDERVVOOD,

265

Ciililenvooii. An article concluded among the
laws of the articles.

Kinir. But wiiat fault was there in it ?

CaUenvood. It cuttelh otTour General Assemblies.

KiH:^. (After inquiring how long Mr. Calderwood
had been a minister.) Hear me, Mr. David, I have
been an older keeper of General Assemblies than
you. A General Assembly serveth to jireserve
doctrine in purity from error and heresy, the kirk
from sciiism, to make confessions of faith, to put up
])etitions to the king in parliament. Hut as for
matters of order, rites, and things indifferent in kirk
])olicy, they may be concluded l)y the king, with
advice of bishops and a choice number of ministers.

Caldeni'ood. Sir, a General Assembly should
serve, and our General Assemblies have served tliese
fifty-six years, not only for preserving doctrine from
error and heresy, but also to make canons and con-
stitutions of all rites and orders belonging to the
kirk. As for the second point, as by a competent
number of ministers may be meant a General
Assembly, so also may be meant a fewer number of
ministers than may make up a General Assembly.

The king then challenged hini for some words in
the protestation.

Ca/dencood. Whatsoever was the plirase of speech,
we meant notliing but to protest that we would give
i)assive obedience to his majesty, but could not give
active obedience to any unlawful thing which should
llow from tliat article.

A'iiig. Active and passive obedience !

Caldenvood. That is, we will rather suffer than
practise.

K""!^. I will tell thee, man, what is obedience.
The centurion, wlien he said to his servants, to this
'.nan, go, and he goeth; to that man, come, and he
cometii: tliat is obedience.

Calddi-ii'ood. To suffer, sir, is also obedience;
howbeit, not of that same kind. And tliat obedi-
ence, also, was not absolute, but limited, with
exception of a countermand from a superior power.

Secretary. Mr. David, let alone [civrjt']; confess
your error.

Caldcrn'ood. My lord, I cannot see that I have
committed any fault.

A'lng. Well, Mr. Calderwood, I will let you see
that I am gracious and favourable. Tliat meeting
shall be condemned before ye be condemned; all
that are in the file sliall be fded before ye be fileil,
])rovided ye will conform.

Caldcr-Livod. Sir, I have answered my libel. I
ought to be urged no further.

A'i/!g. It is true, man, ye have answered your
libel; but consider I am here; I may demand of you
when and what I will.

C\i/dt-r7c'ihh/. Surely, sir, I get great wrong, if I
be ci)mpelled to answer here in judgment to any
iiioie than my libel.

A'nig. .■\.n>wer, sir! ye are a refractor: the IJishoji
of tlla>gow, your ordinary, and the ISishop of Caith-
ness, the nioi;!eiati>r ol your presbyleiy, testify ye
have kept no order; ye iiave repaired neither to
presljyteries nor synods, and in no wise conform.

Ciild.->-u'i\'J. Sir, I have been confnied these
eight or nine yerir>; >o my conformity or noncon-
formity, in tiiat I'.iint. C'Uild not be well known.

A'l/.'g. Go>«l faith, tln'U an a very knave. See
these self-same jnuitans; they are ever jilaying witli
equivocations.

Finally, the king a.-ked, '"If ye were relaxed, will
ye obey or not ?'

C\i/d,->",w./. Sir. I am WT.niged, in that I am
forced to answer (jue^iions he>iile the libel; yet.
seeing I nuu-t an>wer, I say, sir, I shall citlier obey

you, or give a reason wherefore I disol)cy; and, if I
disobey, your majesty knows I am to lie under the
danger as I do now.

A^/iif. That is, to obey either actively or passively.

Caldenvood. I can go no further.

He was then removed. Being afterwards called
up, and threatened with deprivation, he declined
the authority of the bishops t<j that effect; for which
contumacy he was first inii)risr)ned in Si. Andrews,
and then banished from the kingdom. When we
read such conversations as the alxjve, we can scarcely
wonder at the civil war which commenced twenty
years afterwards, or that the eff(jrts of the Stuarts to
continue the ancient arbitrary government of England
were finally ineffectual.

Mr. Calderwood continued to reside in Holland
from the year 1619 till after the death of King
James, in 1625. Before leaving his countrv' he
published a book on the Perth assembly, for which
lie would certainly have been visited with some
severe punishment, if he had not been ([uick to con-
vey himself lieyond seas. In 1623 he ])ublir,hed, in
Holland, his celebrated treatise, entitled, AUarc
DainasceituDi, the object of w hicli was to expose the
insidious means by which the polity of the Ihiglish
church had been intruded upon that of Scotland.
King James is said to have been severely slung in
conscience by this work. He was finind very
pensive one day by an English prelate, and being
asked why he was so, answered, that he had just
read the Altar at Damascus. The bishop desired
his majesty not to trouble himself about that book,
for he and his brethren would answer it. "Answer
that, man!"' cried the king sharply; "how can ye?
there is nothing in it but Scripture, rea>on, and the
fathers." An attempt was made, however, to do
something of this kind. A degraded Scottish gentle-
man, named Scott, being anxious to ingratiate him-
self at court, publisheti a recantation as from the ])en
of Mr. Calderwood, who, he believed and alleged.
was just dead. There was only one unfortunate
circumstance against Mr. Scott. Mr. Calderwood
soon let it be known that he was still alive, and of the
same way of thinking as ever. The wretched im-
postor is said to have then gone over to Hollantl and
sought for Mr. Calderwood, in order to render his
work tnie by assassinating him. But this red ink
postscript was never added, for the liivine had just
returned to his native country.

Mr. Calderwood lived in a ]-rivate nianiur at
Edinburgh for many years, chietly engaged, it ;.-
supposed, in the unobtrusive ta>k of compiling a
history of the Church of Scotland, from tlie death of
James V. to that of James W. His materials fir thi>
work lay in Kno\"s Jfislory. Mr. Jame- Melville".-
Ohsci-iii'tious, -Mr. John Davidson's Dir.ry. the aet> of
parliament and assemlily, and other state documents.
The work, in its original form, was long (ieenie(l too
large for publication, ahlunigh maiu;-cri]4 c.j'ie-
were preserved in the archives ot the ehr.reli. * '!.>-,' 'W
university, the .Vdvocate^" Library, and t!.e i.inaiy
of the l!riti.-h Museum, l.ondnii. .\t le:\^".!'.. l;ou-
ever, the co]iy in the la>t-n"ientioiKd [..v.i \\.^^~
])ublished by the Wodrow Society in 1S4;. < »n tl.e
breaking out of the trouble^ in I(\,S. .Mr. (, alier-
wood appeared on the jniMie >eei.e .".- r. \va:"n;
promoter of all the lu.jailar men -■,;:<--. .\t ti;e
Glasgow assembly in that year. ai:ii <•:! ;;i.i:u lutiire
oeeasions, hi> aci|uaintanee \\ iih t!ie rec^is "f tl'.e
church jiroved of nnich >^rviee. He r.-waSo re-
sumed his duty as a ]iari-li m;r.i-ter. 1 e:: g -ettlei! at
Pencaitland, in East l.'ti.i.m. \\\ I'cj; lie \va~
apjiointed one of tl;e e- ':nr.;::iee l^r d:a\\ .:..; t;p the
directory f^.r puiJic w.-;s:i;:'. a;i i 11. I'''4'-' ^^ ^.''-

266

JOHN CALLANDER.

stract of his church history was published under the
care of the General Assembly. At length, in 1651,
while Croni well's army occupied the Lothians, Mr.
Calilerwood retired to Jedburgh, where, in the
immediate neighbourhood of the scene of his earliest
ministrations, he sickened and died at a good old age.

CALLANDER, John, of Craigfortli, an eminent
antiquary, was born in the early part of the eighteenth
century. J le was the descendant of John Callander,
his majesty's master-smith in Scotland, who seems
to have been an industrious money-making person,
and who, tradition says, acquired part of his fortune
from a mistake on the part of government in paying
in pounds sUriiitg an account which had been stated
in Scots money. The estate of Craigfortli, which
originally belonged to Lord Kijihinstone, was in
1684 jHirchased by Mr. Alexander Iliggins, an
advocate, who became embarrassed by the ])urchase,

and conveyed his rigiit to Callander, from

whom he had obtained large advances of money.
From that period tlie estate has remained in the
possession of the family, notwithstanding the strenuous
exertions of Iliggins to regain it; and of this family
the subject of the present memoir was the rejKesen-
tative.' Of his jirivate history, very little has been
collected; nor would it probably have much interest
to our readers.- The next work published by him
was Terra Aiislralis Coi^iiita, or Voyages to the Terra
Austral is, or Southern Hemisphere, during the 1 6th,
17th, and iSth centuries, lulinburgh, 1766; 3 vols.
Svo, a work translated from tiie French of De
Brosses. It was not till tiiirteen years afterwards
that he gave to the world his Essay ta-wards a Literal
English Version 0/ the Xe70 Testament in the Epistle
to the Ephesians, printed in quarto at Glasgow, in
1779. This very singular production proceeds upon
the principle of adiiering rigidly to the order of the
Greek words, and abandoning entirely the English
idiom. As a specimen of the translation, the 31st
verse of chapter v. is here transcribed. "Because
of this shall leave a man, the father of him, and the
mother, and he shall be joined to the wife of him,
and they shall be even the two into one flesh." The
notes to the work are in Greek, "a proof, certainly,"
as has been judiciously remarked, "of Mr. Callander's
learning, but not of iiis wisdom" {Orme^s Bibliotlieca
Biblica, p. 74). After it followed the work by which
Mr. Callander is best known: Two Ancient Scottish
Poems: The Gal'erlunzie Man, and Chrisfs Kirk on
the Green, with notes and observations. Edin. 1782,
Svo. It would seem that he liad for some time
meditated a dictionary of the .Sc<;ttish language, of
which he intended this as a specimen, but which lie
never i)repared for ]nihlication. His ])rinciple, as
an etymologist, wliicli C')n.-,i>ts "in deriving the
words of every language from the radical sounds of
the first or original tongue, as it was spcjken t)y Xoah
and tiie builders of Haljci," is generally considered
fanciful, and sevL-ral instances have l)een given i)y
Clialmersand other>of tlie absurdity of hi^deri vat i(ins.

In April, 1 781, .Mr. (Jallandcr was, without any

' Letters front Bishop I\-rcy, c-^t., to Ceori^e Patoii. I'rc-
facc, p. viii.

- Thouyli a member of the .Sr<itti-.h bar. tlic cnrly part of
his life seems to have been devoted to clas-ical |>ur.Miit^, in
which it is acknowledged he made gre.it jiroticiency. A con-
siderable portion of the results of these stndies was ])resenteij
by him to the Society of .Scottish Anli'inaries, in .Angnst. 1781.
His -MSS., which are entitled .S>/V//(X'-m Aiitiquitntis Grtmc,
siz'e ex I'rteribiis J'oetis Peperdita /■'rni^Dienta, ;ire in fue
volumes, folio. The same researches were afterwards directed
to the illustration of Milton's Paradise Lost, of which a
specimen, containing his annotations on the first book, was
printed at (dasgow, by .Mcs-.rs. Koulis, in 1750 4to, p. I'S; .
()f these notc-5 an account will ;'.fterwards Le j,'iven.

solicitation on his part, elected a fellow of the Society
of Scottish Antiquaries, which had been formed in
the preceding November, by the late Earl of Buchan;
and in the first list of office-bearers his name appears
as secretary for foreign correspondence. Along
witli several other donations, he presented them, in
August of the same year, with the Eragnienta already
mentioned, and with the MS. notes on Paradise
Lost, in nine folio volumes. For more than forty
years these annotations remained unnoticed in the
society's possession, but at length a paper, written, it
is supposed, by the respectal)le biographer of the
Admiral)le Crichton and Sir Tliomas Craig, appeared
in Blackivood''s A/agazine, in which Callander is
charged with having, without acknowledgment,
been indebted for a large proportion of his materials
to the labours of Patrick Hume, a Scotsman who
published a huge folio of 321 pages on the same
sidjject, at London, in 1695. At the suggestion of Mr.
David Laing, a committee was appointed in 1826
to examine the MS.S., and present the result to the
society. From the report^ drawn up by Mr. Laing,
it appears that, although there are some passages in
wiiich tile analogy between Callander's remarks and
those of Hume are so close that no doubt can be
entertained of the one having availed himself of the
notes of the other, yet that the proportion to the
whole mass is so small, that it cannot be affirmed
with truth the general plan or the largest portion of
the materials of the work are derived from that
source. On the other hand, it is candidly admitted
that no acknowledgment of his obligations to his
fellow-countrymen are made by Mr. Callander; but
unfortunately a preface, in which such obligations
are generally noticed, has never been written for, or,
at all events, is not attached to, the work. Accord-
ing to the testimony of Bishop Newton, the work
by Hume contains "gold;" but it is concealed
among "infinite heaps of rubbish:" to separate them
was the design of the learned bishop, and our author
seems to have acted precisely upon the same prin-
ciple. Nor does he confine himself merely to the
commentaries of Hume; he avails himself as often,
and to as great an extent, of the notes of Newtoi;,
and of the other contemporary critics.

Besides the works already mentioned, ]\Ir. Callaii-
der seems to have projected several otiiers. A
specimen of a Bibliotheca Septentrionalis was printed
in folio in 1778. J^roposals/or a Ifistory of the Ancient
Music of Scotland, from the age of the -eencrable Ossian,
to the beginning of the sixteenth century, in quarto,
1781; and a specimen of a Scoto-gothic glossary is
mentioned in a letter to the Earl of Buchan in 1781.
He also wrote ^^ I'lndiciic Miltonian/c, or a refuta-
tion of the charges brought against Alilton by [the
infamous] William I.aiulcr." The ]iublication of
this WDrlc was, however, rendered unnecessary from
tiie ai5[)earance of the well-known vindication by
Dr. Douglas, afterwards Bishop of Salisbury. This
was, jierliaps, fortunate for its author; not aware
of Lauder's cliaracter, he had taken it for granted
that all his ([uolatiiins from Milton's works were
correct, but he soon found that lie had defended
tiie jioet where "lie stood in no need of any apology
to clear his fame." It is probably hardly worth
mentioning, tliat he also projected an eilition of Sir
David Lindsay's Satyre, to be accompanied by a life
of Lindsay from the pen of George I'alon, which he
does not seem to have accomidislied.

"Mr. Callander, "says the editor of Baton's Letters,*

■' .See Trans. ofthcSoc. o/Scot. Aiittq. vol. 3, part i. pp. 84-89.

■1 Letters from Thomas I'ercv, D.IK, afterwards Pishopof
Ih-oDiore, John Callauder. of Crat]i;/orth, /-.'.f./., na7>id Herd,
and others, to (jeo>i;e /'atoii. Edinburgh, ibjo, i:;n:o, p. x.

DONALD CAMERON.

20 7

"was, for many years, particularly distinguished for
his compaiiionaljlc (lualities. He had a taste for
music, and was an excellent performer on the violin.
Latterly he became very retired in his habits, saw
little company, and his mind was deeply affected by
a religious melancholy, which entirely unfitted him
for society. He died at a good old age, upon the
14th September, 17S9. I5y his wife, who was of the
family of Livingston of Westquarter, he had seven-
teen children. His great-grandson is at present in
possession of the estate."

CAMERON, Donald, of Lochiel. This gallant
Highland chief, who united such amiable manners
and attractive accomplishments to tlie proverbial har-
dihood and valour of his race, that his name has de-
scended to us uniler the title of "the gentle Lochiel,"
occupies the most conspicuous place in the history of
the unfortunate rebellion of 1745, and may be con-
sidered as the fairest type of those chivalrous men by
whom such a romantic lustre has been thrown over
Jacobite loyalty aiul devotedness. He was grandson
of that Sir Ewen Cameron, chief of Lochiel, of whom
so many remarkable stories have been told, that he
passes among Lowlanders as the Amadis de Gaul,
or Guy of Warwick of the Highlands. Not the least
remembered of these was his supreme contempt for
Sa.xon effeminacy, so that, in a niglit bivouac among
the snow, he kickctl a snowball from under his simi's
head exclaiming, "What, are you become so luxurious
that you cannot sleep without a pillow?" John
Camert)n of Lochiel, the father of Donald, for the
share he had taken in the rebellion of 171 5, was
obliged to escape to France, and in consequence of
his attainder, the subject of this notice succeeded to
the estates of his ancestors, and chieftainship of the
clan. On account of his father being still alive, he
was commonly called by the Highlanders "Voung
Lochiel," although he was of mature age when he
entered the fiekl; but the precise year of his birth
we are unable to discover.

As the grandfxther and father of Donald had been
steadfast adherents to the cause of the Stuarts, and as
the clan Cameron was both numerous and powerful,
the Chevalier de St. George opened a correspondence
with the present chief, and invested him with full
powers to negotiate in Scotland for the restora-
tion of the exiled dynasty. Such was the state of
affairs when the young Pretender, accompanied by
only seven attendants, landed ujion the western coast,
and sent tidings to all his adherents in the neighbour-
hood of his arrival and its purposes. They were
astoundetl at the intelligence. Had he come at the
he.ad of a strong reinforcement of foreign troops,
and supplied witli money for the expenses of a cam-
jiaign, the whole Highlands might have been armed
in his cause, and the result would scarcely have l>een
doubtful; but, on the present occasion, the Highland
chieftains well knew that the hope of overturning
three king'loms by tiieir own resources was utter
madness, and tliat the attempt would only precipitate
themselves and tlieir followers into certain ilestruc-
tion. l)Ut now the prince was among them, and all
but alone: iio had thrown himself upon their loyalty,
and could they requite it with ingratitude? .Such
was the generous di>intcrested feeling with which
the chiefs eml)arked in this desperate undertaking,
and not fropa overwi.-cning contidence in their own
valour, or hope of the rewards of conque>t. They
saw nothing before them but death on the field or
the scaffold; and although their first success tended
to remove these gloomy f irebodings, tiiey returned
in full streiiLith with the retreat fnun 1 )erb}-, and
were coniirnied upijn the held of Cullodeii.

In all these fears Lochiel fully participated. As
soon, therefore, as he heard of the prince's arrival,
he sent his brother, Dr. .Archibald Cameron, to wani
him of the conse<iuences of the enterprise. This the
Doctor did faithfully and earnestly; he even told the
l^rince that his brother could not and would n(jt join
him under such circumstances. Hut he sjioke to the
son of a doomed race, whom no warnings could en-
lighten. Still, however, Charles felt that without
the co-operation of Lochiel it was useless to advance,
and he therefore sent .Mac<lonald the younger, of
Scothouse, reciuesting a personal interview with the
Cameron at Borodale. Perhaps he was aware of the
marvellous power that acc(jmi)anies the petitions of
a prince. The chief complied with an invitation
which he could not well refuse, but he set out with
a firm resolution to have nothing to do with the
prince's undertaking. This he expressed to his
brother, John Cameron of P'assefern, upon whom he
called on his way. As soon as Fassefern learned thai
Charles had arrived without money, arms, or troops,
he apjjroved of his brother's [nirpose not to join th^;
expedition, and advised him to communicate this !)y
letter; but when Lochiel persisted in continuing his
journey to Borodale, as the best op[)ortunity for
justifying his refusal, F'assefem replied, "Brother,
I know you better than you know yourself If this
prince once sets his eyes upon you, he will make you
do whatever he pleases."

In the interview that followed between the prince
and his chivalrous adherent, this prediction was too
well verified. The latter stated that, as his royal
highness iiad come without the promised supplies in
men and money, the Highland chiefs v.ere released
from their engagements; and he advised Charles to
return to France, and await a more favourable oppor-
tunity. To this the prince replied that no such
opportunity as the present might again occur — that
most of the British troops were abroad, and the few
newly-raised regiments at home would be unalile t'-
withstand the army of Highlanders that could b-
brought into the held, and that a few advantages at
the outset would insure him effectual as>i,--tance both,
at home and from abroad. Unjiersuaded Ijy these
arguments, which were more showy than solid,
Lochiel advised a middle course: this was, that the
prince shcnild dismiss his attendants and his ship, the
Dcutellc, back to France, so that it might be tliouglit
that himself had returned with them, and that, in th<;
meantime, his highness might remain concealed in
the Highlands until the court of France could sen<l
over an armament to their aid. This, however.
Charles rejected, declaring that the court of France
would never believe he had a party in Scotland until
an insurrection had actually commenced. Tlu:^
driven from eveiT point of tlissuasion, Lochiel hr.'l
rec(jui"se to his last inducement, by entreating tlin:
his highness would remain at I'orodale un;:! t!i--
Highland chiefs could be a.-semliled, \\!uii tliey
might deliberate in concert what \\as lie^i to in-
done; but this prudent proposal Charle- a!-o rel;'.-ed.
"In a few days." he exclaimed, '"aiid \\\\\\ t!ie lew
friends that I have, 1 will erect the royrd .-tar. ;ar. I,
and proclaim to the jieople of liritain that (_l'..;iie<
-Stuart is come over to claim the crown ^t h:> ar.ci--
tors — to win it, or to perish in the attem] i: l.o^liiv!,
whom my father has often told me wa- • -ar hrme-".
friend, may >tav at Ivme, and fr^ni the r,e'.\ -paj'e!-.
learn the 'fate 'of his ])ri;Ke." TIi:- t.'aht, whi^ii
touched so keenly the hoi^'ur of tlie hi-ii-nr.i'.iU d
chief, decided hiin at once, and he crie !. •'No I I !1

1 share the fate of my j rir.ce; ar.'i - > -i.ail every man
over wliom nature or t'^rtuno lia^ L:.\''n nie aiy

1 power!" In t!i;-> way "tlu- ^ei/.'.e 1 • '.iiiel "wa>'yVei-.

268

DONALD CAMERON.

thrown and taken captive by what many will reckon
a mere punctilio. In his case, too, it was the more
to be regretted, as not only his own fate and that of
his clan was at stake, but the introduction of a civil
war, which, but for his example, would either not
have happened, or have begun and terminated in a
petty skirmish.

Having gained over a chief so influential, the Pre-
tender thought thathemight proceed at once toaction,
and accordingly he announced his purpose to raise
the royal standard on the 19th of August at Glen-
finnan, where all his Highland adherents were warned
to be in readiness. In the meantime Lochiel went
home to muster his clan for the gathering. When
the period arrived, Charles, who had now been three
weeks in the Highlands without the secret being di-
vulged, embarked from Kinlochmoidart, with twenty-
five attendants in three boats, and reached Glen-
finnan on the morning of the rendezvous. And
dreary was the prospect that welcomed him to his
expected kingdom, for he fouiul himself in a dark
narrow glen, bounded on lioth sides by high rocky
mountains; and instead of the gallant muster of impa-
tient clans by whom he hoped his coming would be
greeted, there were no persons but the inhabitants of
tlie few wretched hovels sprinkled at wide intervals
along the glen, who stood at their doors, or among
the distant precipices, to gaze at the arrival of the
strangers. Dispirited at this appearance of remiss-
ness on the part of his friends, Charles retired to one
of these hovels, where, after two anxious hours of
suspense, his ears were gladdened by the sound of
a distant bagpipe. It was the clan Cameron hasten-
ing to the trysting-place, with Lochiel at their head.
They were from 700 to 800 strong, while in point of
arms, discipline, and ecpiipments, they formed the
elite of that rebel army by which such singular suc-
cesses were obtainetl both in Scotland and England.
The Camerons also did not come to the meeting
empty-handed, for they brouglit with them, as
prisoners, a party of the royalist soldiers who had
been surprised in the neighbourhood of Loch Lochie.
On the arrival of Lochiel and his followers, Charles,
without waiting for the rest of the clans, proclaimed
war in due form against the "Elector of Hanover,"
raised his silk banner of white, blue, and red, and
jiroclaimed his father sovereign of the British em-
])ire. After this ceremony new volunteers arrived,
by which the prince soon found himself at the head
of 1200 men. With such an army, where nearly
one half were very imjierfectly armed, and with only
one guinea in his pocket when he reached the fair
city of IV-rth, the young Chevalier commenced his
daring march for the overthrow of three kingdoms.
It has often been reckoned fjnc of t!ie maddest
freaks in military liistory; but how \\'ould it have
been characterized liad it succeeded, which it almost
did? The wonderful successes of Montrose, with
means as niadcquale, were not yet furgotten in the
Highlands.

The rest of the career of Lochiel is so closely con-
nected with the events of the cainiiaign of 1745, that
a full detail of them woidd necessarily include a
narrative of the whole rebellion. We can, therefore,
only sjiecify a few particulars. The town (jf I'ertli,
which fell into the hands of the insurgents after they
commenced tiieir descent into tiie Lowlands, was
taken by a party of the Camerons. ()n crossing the
Forth the great difficulty was to restrain ihe High-
landers from plundering, as they connnitted mucii
havoc among the sheep, which thuy hunted and shot
as if tliey had been hares, and cooked in their own
rude fashion. A summary act of justice executed
by Lochiel upon one of these marauders is thus

described by Dagald Graham, the Homer of this
eventful rebellion:—

" This did enrage the Camerons' chief,
To see his men so play the thief;
And finding one into the act,
He fired, and shot him through the back;
Then to the rest himself addressed: —
' This is your lot, I do protest,
Who'er amongst you wrongs a man;
Pay what you get, I tell you plain;
For yet we know not friend or foe,
Nor how all things may chance to go.'"

It was a just and humane order, enforced by politic
considerations, and as such it must have greatly
aided in procuring for the wild miscellaneous anny
that character for forbearance by which it was after-
wards distinguished. On reaching Edinburgh, which
had closed its gates and refused to surrender, Charles,
with the army of Sir John Cope at his heels, was
anxious to place his wild followers within the walls
of the ancient capital, l)ut without the bloodshed and
odium of a storm. This resolution, which was so
congenial to the character of Lochiel, tlie gallant
chief undertook to execute; and with a select de-
tachment of 900 men he marched by night to the city
gates, which, however, were too jealously watched
to give him access. While he waited for an oppor-
tunity, a hackney coach, filled with deputies, that
had been sent from the town-council to the prince's
head-qaurters, and were returning home by the
Canongate, suddenly appeared. As soon as the gate
opened to admit them, a party of Highlanders rushed
in, disarmed the guards in a twinkling, and cleared
the way for their fellows. In this way Edinburgh
was captured without shedding a drop of blood, or
even making so much noise as to disturb the sleep
of its inhabitants. Lochiel again appears on the
very foreground of Prestonpans, the victory of which
was chiefly attributed to his clan, by whom the dra-
goons were routed, and the royalist foot left wholly
uncovered. In charging cavalry, which was a new
event in Highland warfare, he ordered his men to
rush forward boldly and strike at the noses of the
horses with their broadswords, without caring about
the riders; and the consequence was, that these
formidable-looking cavaliers were chase<l off the field
by a single onset. In the unsuccessful expedition
into England which followed this victory, the
Camerons were always found at their post, while the
conduct of their chief was distinguished throughout
the advance and retreat by the same combination of
prudence, courage, and clemency. Strangely enough,
however, it hai)])ened that he, the "gentle Lochiel,"
was, on one occasion, mistaken for a cannibal or an
ogre. In iMigland fearful tales had been rei)orted
of the Highlanders, and among others, that tlieyhad
claws instead of hands, and fed upon human flesh.
On that account, one evening, when lie entered the
lodging that had. been assigned to him, the poor
landlady threw herself at his feet, and besought him,
with uplifted hands and weeping eyes, to take her
life, Init spare her two children. Astonished at this,
he asked her what she meant, when she told him
everybody had said that the Highlanders ate children
as their common food. A few kind words sufticed to
disabuse her; and o]iening the door of a jiress, she
cried with a voice of joy, "Come out, children, the
gentleman won't eat you," upon which the two little
jirisoncrs emerged from their concealment and fell at
his feet.

At the winding up of this wild tragedy on Culloden
Moor, Lochiel had his full share of disapj-jointment
and disaster. He was one of the advocates of a night
surprise of the English army, and when the inisuc-
cessful attempt was made, he was one of its principal

DONALD CAMERON

SIR EWEN CAMERON.

269

leaders. In the battle that followed next day the
Camerons were described by eye-witnesses as ad-
vancing to the charge "with their bonnets pulle<l
tightly over their brows, their bodies half-bent, their
shields raised so as to cover the hea<l and vital parts,
and their broadswords quivering in their nervous
gripe: they sprung forward ujion their foes like
crouching tigers, their eyes gleaming with an expres-
sion fierce and terrific to the last degree." The
whole front rank fell; and, in spite of their devoted
efforts to protect their chief, I.ochiel himself received
several severe wounds in the legs, and was carried
off the field. Such was the tennination which his
own pmdence had apprehended from the beginning,
without needing the predictions of " the death-boding
seer," but to which he had committed himself from
a mistaken sense of lionour. After this defeat, by
which all the adherents of the Pretender were scattered
and hunted upon their native mountains, Lochiel,
having skulked for two months in his own district,
at last withdrew to the borders of Rannoch, where
he took up his abode in a miserable hovel on the
side of the mountain Benalder, to l^e cured of his
wounds. Here, on the morning of the 30th of
August, 1746, he and his few attendants were
startled by the unwelcome apparition of a party of
men ailvancing to the dwelling: and thinking that
they were enemies from tlie camp a few miles distant,
who had tracked them to their hiding-place, they
prepared to receive them with a volley of musketry.
Their weapons were pointed for the occasion, and in
another instant would have given fire, when Lochiel
suddenly stopped them : he discovered tliat the
strangers were no other than the prince himself.
Dr. Cameron his brother, and a few guides, who
had heard in tiieir wanderings of his whereabouts,
and were coming to visit him ! One moment more
and Charles might have lain stretched on the heath
by the hand of the best and most devoted of his
followers. On discovering who his visitor was, the
chief, who was lamed in the ancles from his wounds,
limped out to welcome him, and would have knelt
upon the ground, when Charles prevented him with,
"No, my dear Lochiel; we do not know who may
be looking horn the top of yonder hills, and if they
see any such motions, they will immediately conclude
that I am here." .Seldom have prince and subject
met under such circumstances of atlversity. As the
royal wanderer had long been a stranger to a com-
fortable meal, some minced collops were fried for
him with butter in a large saucepan, to which the
luxury of a silver spoon was added; and poor Charles,
after partaking very heartily of these savoury viands,
could not helj) exclaiming, "Now, gentlemen, I live
like a [iiincel"' Turning to Lochiel, he asked,
•'Have }i)U always fared so well during your re-
treat?" "W's, sir," replied the chief, "for nearly
three months pa>t I have been hereabout with my
cou>in Cluiiy; he has provided for me so well, that
I have had plenty of sucli as you see, and I thank
heaven your royal highness has got through so many
dangers to take a i)art."

.Soon after this meeting, two vessels of war. clc-
spatched by the I'reiich government, arri\cd, and
in these Charles and ab.uit lOO of his adlierents,
of whom Lochiel \\a> one, embarked at Loch-
nanu.agh, on the 20th of Se]iteml)er. .Soon after
his arrival in France, Lochiel reeeiveii the commami
of a regiment in the Lrcnch --ervice, to v.hich the
young Clievalier wished a title of l!riii^h noiiility
to be added; but this tiie prince'- father ivk;>ed,
observing very justly, that it would create envy in
the other Ilighlauil cliiet'-, wh.o might exjiect a
similar distinction; a;id that I.ochiel's intercut and

reputation in his own countrj', and his being at the
head of a regiment in Krance, would give him more
consideratiuu there than any empty title he could
bestow. Hy this time, however, the mere fiuestion
of a coronet was of little im])ortance to the brave
and good Lochiel, for he died in his place of e.xile
in 1748. At his death he left two sons, of whom
John, the eldest, succeeded to his father's regiment,
but died in early life. Charles, the youngei, who
succeeded to the family claims of his brother, ob-
tained leases from the 15riti.--h crown of parts of the
family estate upon very easy terms, and received
a commission in the 71st Ilighlamlers, to which
regiment he added a company of clansmen of his
own raising. On the regiment being ordered for
foreign service, his Camerons refused to embark
without him, ujion which, though he was danger-
ously ill in Londc)n, he hurrieii down to Glasgow
to appease them, but found that this had been
successfully done by Colonel Fraser of Lovat, the
commander of the regiment. This violent exertion,
however, was too much for his exhausted strength,
so that he died soon afterwards. Nothing, it is
said, could exceed the enthusiasm with which the
arrival of Charles Cameron was welcomed by the
citizens of Glasgow, for it was their conviction that
his father had prevented their city from being plun-
dered by the rebel army in 1745.

Another member of the Lochiel family still re-
mains to be mentioned; this was Dr. Archibald
Cameron, whose name has already occurred more
than once in the course of this notice. After hav-
ing endured his share of the hardships which befell
the rebel army, and aided the prince in his wander-
ings among the Highlands, he was one of those who
embarked at Lochnanuagh, and reached France in
safety. .Some doubtful causes, however, not suffi-
ciently explained, but which seem to have lieen
altogether unconnected with politics, induced him
to return to .Scotland privately in 1749, and sub-
sequently in 1753; but at his last visit he was ap-
]:>rehended, tried at London, and sentenced to be
hanged at Tybuni, as one of the attainted persons who
had been "out" in 1745. He was the last victim
of the fears or the vengeance of govemment; and
many even of its best friends thought that alter so
long an interval, and on account of his well-known
amiable character, his life ought to have been sjiared.

CAJVIERON, S I R Fwi-.N, of Lochiel. This fierce
and gallant warrior, the grandfather of the "gentle
Lochiel,"' in whom the character of a Highland
chief of the seventeenth century was imperson-
ated, was born at Castle Culehorn, a seat of the
ICarl of Breadalbane, in February. 1629. After
the fashion of the Highlanders, who were v.ont so to
distinguish the members of the same clan and name,
he was called Lwen Dhu, from his liark coniplexion.
When about the age of twelve, the clucation of the
voung chief was undertaken by theMarqr.is ol Argyle.
in whose han(l> he was a hostage f >r the jcaceal .e
behaviour of the Cameron>; but Sir Lwcii-lMwel
more inclination fir hunting, sliooting. ter.cir.g. arid
such exercises, titan fir book- or t!ie -ocieiy ■-:
learned men. .\t the age of fourteen l;e wa> t.-.ke:i
by the manii'.i- to Lr.glaivl. to lie er.teied a- a
student at Oxfird; but hi- lorl-b.i]' -■ 'oii f.v.r.d tl.e
difliculty of managing such a war i. f ^r on reachir.g
Stirling on their jouinex'. the V'tttli. V.rc-] oi tfie C' er-
cion of a coacli, -iijined awa;.- iV-tn Iri- ^jiari'.ian, nu'l
travelled a w lio'ir d.-.y tiir. i:;j:!i tl-.e ti wn and its
neighl)o\irhood, alth- '■.t^li the pe-tileiue was n:
that time it; S;ii!;ng. a;:d ■ ■( a n^.-t ii^tectious ai;d
destructive charajte;'. At Ler.vi.l,. wh.^r-j tiie% ma-ie

SIR EWEN CAMERON.

a long stay, he entered into so many quarrels with
the young gentlemen of the town, upon questions
connected witli the honour of his countrj', as to en-
danger his being knocked on the head; so that the
marcjuis would not allow him to stir out of doors
without two or three of his armed servants as a
guard. The invasion of the Marquis of Montrose
into Scotland, and the events preceding the battle
of Philiphaugh, prevented the buoyant Highlander
from prosecuting his journey and astonishing the
peaceful students of 0.\.ford; and having visited Sir
Robert Spotiswood in prison after the defeat of
Montrose, he was by that able and wily politician
estranged from Argyle and his party and converted
into a royalist.

When the youngchief of the Cameions had reached
the age of eigliteen, he was set free from tiie guardian-
ship of Argyle, and sent back to his own people.
P'rom want of other active occupation, he com-
menced a regular warfare against the wild beasts of
the district, and made fearful destruction of the
wolves and foxes, the last wolf seen in the Highlands
having been slain with his own hand. The ])rospect
of higlier game, to which this was only preparatory,
soon olTcred itself, by the refusal of Macdonald of
Keppoch, chief of a tribe of the Macdonalds, to pay
the annuity of a mortgage held by the chief of the
Camerons upon an estate belonging to the former.
To enforce payment, Lochiel came down into the
territories of his creditor at the head of some hun-
flreds of armed Camerons, and Keppoch was fain to
listen to reason. Anotlier similar quarrel occurred
with Macdonald of Glengarry, who refused to pay
some arrears of feu-duty which he owed to the chief
of the Camerons, as lord-paramount of the territory
of Knoidart, which the other occujiied. Lochiel in
this case used the same figure of persuasion, and
ivith the same result. The attem])t of the ICarl of
('ilencairn, afier the defeat of Charles H. at Worces-
ter, to revive his majesty's cause in the Highlands
was more attractive, however, to Lochiel than such
l^etty feuds about money with his brother chiefs;
and when the earl raised the royal standard in 1652,
he joined him at the head of 700 of his clansmen.
In this cami)aign, the courage of the young Lochiel,
daring even to the extreme of rashness, was so much
in character with the enter]irise as to attract general
notice. After behaving with remarkable gallantry
in the engagement in which Glencairn was defeated,
Lochiel, who had been successful against the ICnglish
soldiers in several important skirmishes, withdrew
his clan in safety to Lochaber. Instead of warring
for the re.-.ti)ration of the king, he was now reduced
to the necessity of acting upf)n the defensive, as
General .M(jnk, after reducing the Lowlands, was
resolved to comi)!ete the concpiest of the whole of
Scotland by also reducing the Highlands to obedience.

This resolution of the luiglish commonwealth was
followed up with a military skill and also with a
j)romptilude which the Highlanders had never wit-
nessed in former invasions of their mountain terri-
tories; and either dismayed by the unexpected ad-
\ance of Monk, or allured by tlie advantages they
might derive from supjiorting the stronger cause, they
litlier remained inactive or favoured the invaders.
.V detachment from the English army had advanced
as far as Aberchalder, where I'Ort Augusius now
stands, and Lochiel, who had mustered his followers
for resistance, depended ujion the co-operation of
Keppoch and Glengarry, who had leagued with
him against the common enemy. l?ut these chiefs
at sucii a crisis were more mindful of their former
feud with Lochiel, than the safety or honour of their
country, and neither of them would give him aid.

Thus left to his own resources, he was obliged to
change the plan of combined warfare into a guerilla
resistance, for which the country was well adapted.
Annoyed by such an enemy. Monk endeavoured to
disarm him by tempting promises. He offered to
bestow upon him two large estates, to pay all his
debts, and invest him with what rank in the army
he pleased; but finding the gallant young chief in-
accessible to such bribes, the English general re-
turned to his previous design of establishing such a
strong garrison at Inverlochy, as would either reduce
the Highlands to his mercy, or compel Lochiel to
retire and confine himself to his own district. Two
thousand of his most effective troops were accord-
ingly conveyed thither by sea, with workmen and
everything necessary for the erection of a fort and
suitable defences.

The establishment of this formidable bridle of the
Highlands was now the chief eyesore of the patriotic
Lochiel; upon it his whole attention was concentrated,
and to prevent or retard its completion became the
chief object of his daring spirit of enterprise. While
he hovered in the neighbourhood upon the watch,
he learned that 300 men of the garrison, accomj^anied
by some workmen, were to be sent across the loch,
to bring in provisions, and cut down trees for timber
in building; and although he had not more than
thirty-eight men at hand, having dismissed the rest
on various commissions, he resolved with his small
handful to attack the party. The arrangements of
the enemy favoured his design, for, dividing them-
selves, they sailed in two vessels to opposite sides of
the loch, so that the vessel which landed on the side
nearest to the Camerons had only 150 soldiers on
board. Even yet, however, so great was the disparity
in point of numbers, that some of the Camerons who
had served with Montrose declared that the great
marfjuis himself had never ventured such an attempt.
Lochiel, however, persisted in his purpose of attack,
and as the clansmen were chiefly apprehensive that
in such an enterprise their chief would jierish along
with them, he tied his younger Ijrothcr Allan to a tree,
to reserve him as the future head of the Camerons:
and being unable to spare a man for the purpose,
he appointed a little boy to attend him. After these
jirejiarations and precautions, the chief marched half
a mile westwartl to the village of Achadalew, v.hich
the English soldiers were at lliat nK)ment in the act
of pillaging, and judging this a favourable oppor-
tunity, he gave the signal of onset. A strange con-
flict immediately followed between the Highlanders,
half of whom were only anneil with bows and
arrows, and the luiglish, wIkj were fully eipiipped
and brave soldiers; but the latter, besides the unex-
])ectedness of the attack, were confounded at the
]ieculiar mode of a Highland assault, against which
their disci])line was rather a hindrance than a hcljx
In the heat of the struggle Lochiel himself was in
danger of being shot by an luiglish musketeer, who
had concealed himself behind a bush; but at this
critical moment his l)rother Allan ajipeared, and
shot the I'jigll^hman while the latter was about to
liull the trigger. This arrival of Allan A\ns owing
to his impatience for the fight, in conseciuence of
which he liad ]irevailed upon the boy who waited
on him to Irjose the cords with which lie was tied to
the tree, after which, although but a mere stripling,
he ])lunged into the thickest of the cnnilict. Gal-
lantly although the Highlanders contended with sucli
odds, they were met with ec|ual bravery, and it
seemed as if discipline would at last j)revail, f ^r no-
thing disheartened them more than to see with what
facility these Saxon enemies rallied when broken,
and the courn^e with which thev renewed the combat

SIR EWEN CAMERON.

271

instead of running away. But the nimbleness and
ferocity of the Celts, and the advantage their strange
mode of attack gave them, were finally successful;
and the English, reduced to thirty-five men, fled in
confusion to their ship, where they surrendered on
the ofTcr of quarter. Only four of the Camerons
were lost in the action, and a fifth, who was Lochiel's
foster-brother, who on observing an English officer
taking aim at his chief started forward, received the
shot in his own bosom, and fell dead at the feet of
his master. But such devotedness was so common
among the Highlanders, that a different conduct
would have formed a subject for their astonishment.
With Highland devotedness we may also quote an
instance of Highland simplicity. They had heard,
and they believed, that the English had certain caudal
appendages projecting from the quarter whence tails
usually grow; and to find these they searched the
dead bodies of the English with a solicitude worthy
of the philosophic Lord Monboddo.

But of all the events of this remarkable skirmish,
none was to be compared to a combat which took
place between Lochiel and one of the enemy. He
had given chase to a party along a by-way that led
to a wood, and struck down two or three of the fugi-
tives, when he was suddenly confronted by the officer
of the party from behind a bush, where he had con-
cealed himself Tliey were both alone, and between
them a deadly conthct at once commenced. The
combat was desperate, as each fought for life; and
the advantages on both sides were so ecjual, that it
was both long and doubtful. The English officer
was superior both in strengtii and stature, but Lochiel
excelled him in activity, so that at last, by a sudden
stroke, he sent the sword out of the other's hand.
On this the Englishman closed with his opponent,
Iiore him to the ground, and fell with him, but
uppermost; and in the close death-struggle they lay,
until they both rolled into the channel of a dry brook,
where Lochiel was almost helpless from the weight
of the other, and the sharp stones upon which he
had fallen. At last the Englishman got his right
hantl free, and drew his dagger; but just when he
had raised his head in the act of dealing a fatal stab,
Lochiel darted at the extended throat with his teeth,
and bit with such bull-dog ferocity, as to tear away
a whole mouthful of the officer's throat. This he
afterwards declared was the sweetest bite that ever
lie had in his lifetime. It is needless, perhaps, to add
that such a wound brought the combat to a close.
Tliis terrible duel Sir Walter Scott has copied in
describing that between Roderick Dhu and Eitz-
James. G reat was now the renown of ' 'the Cameron, "
who was extolled as the first of living heroes; and as
his biograi)her expresses it, "his presence of mind
in delivering hinv>elf from his terrible English an-
tagonist, who had so much the advantage of him
in everything but vigour and courage, by biting out
his throat, was in every person's mouth." The gar-
rison, when they saw the wounds of their dead com-
panions, who-e liniljs were lopped off, and even their
l)odies alniii^t cleft in twain, tremliled at these
evidences i4' the niiglit of the mountain arm, and
wondered what kind of mortals these Higlilanders
were who could deal such dreadful strokes.

In otiier >k!riiii-hes that f )Ilowed Lochiel was so
successful that hi,-, name became a word of terror to
the garrison, so that they wore cautiruis of venturing
beyondthe shehcr('ftheirw,-ill>. lint the royalist cause,
of which he was one of the mo>t distinguished adher-
ents, \\'as weary of the .-tnig^le, and CeiK-ral Middle-
ton, who had succeeded the V.ad of (dencairn as its
representative in .'Scotland, made s'abmission to the
existing government. Lochiel, thu^ finding himself

unsupported, and aware that he could no longer sup-
port such a conflict, in which the resources of the
three kingdoms would be arrayed against him,resolvefl
to obtain an honourable peace. 'I'o accomplish this
he judged it best not to offer himself emjity-handed,
and he accordingly suri)rised three English colonels
at an inn where they happened to reside, made them
prisoners, and carried them off to a little island which
ins biographer calls Locharkike, almost ten miles
north of the garrison, and situated in a fresh-water
loch twelve miles in length, and covered with wockIs
on both sides. Deep were the apprehensions of these
colonels on account of the savages into whose hands
they had fallen, and the ogre who commanded them
— for, except to those who had vi>ited the country in
person, the Highlands was still a fn-ra niio,;iiita Ixjth
to Englishman and Lowlantler. But the kind and
simple manners of the primitive natives, and the
courteous polished behaviour of Lochiel, agreeablv
undeceived them, so that at last they were anxious
to bring such a landlord into good tenns with the
government. This was what the ILghland chief
desired, and accordingly Colonel Campbell, one of
his hostages, and himself a Highlander, was sent to
General Monk with overtures on the part of Lochiel.
which were readily accepted. The past was to be
buried in oblivion; no oaths or assurances beyond
their word of honour was to be required from the
Camerons for their futtire allegiance; and they were
allowed to wear their arms as formerly, as far as was
consistent with a peaceful behaviour. On these
articles being confirmed, the cordiality v.ith which
the garrison and the clan, lately so irreconcilable,
met for the first time, was truly marvellous. 7he
clan Cameron, their chief, and its dhuine-wassails.
attired in their best, and armed as if going to battle,
marched to Inverlochy with jiipes playing and colours
displayed, and formed in two lines opposite the troops
of the garrison, who were drawn up to welcome them ;
the articles of agreement were read v.ith huzzas from
both parties, and while the clan were treated with a
plentiful dinner on the green, as they stood in their
ranks, Lochiel and the gentlemen of his people were
regaled at a banquet by the governor. After th:>
peaceful settlement of his affairs, ].ochiel, \\ ho lia-1
been several years in love with a lady whom hi.- active
and precarious life prevented from marrying, was
now united to her in wedlock in 1657, and the happy
event was solemnized l)y such a wetlding as was long
after remembered for its magnificence. On his re-
turn to Lochaber with his bride, and while all was
happiness around him, an impoverished l>ard, whose
three cows had been taken from him in the late wars,
used the iavourable moment for entreating restitutio!:.
This he did in a way most gratityii-g to High-
landers, for it was in sounding Gaelic verse, in w h.icli
the chief, the princii\al Camerons, and the whole
clan were successively eulogized in the mo>t llatter-
ing style of hyperbole. A translation is given ( t 1;
in the ^ftnions ef Sir F.'lCu Ci7')!rri'/.\ botli in j^i' -t,
an<l verse, from tlte latter of which we venture ;■'
select the following specimen: —

" Immortal chief! with early tru'.ir.j!-.s cr -.vn d.
'I'hy C'luiuct g'.ii ic~, thy curagc .;;'.% 1^- irc '.^ ;;■ .
M:itchlcss the LTuns. the l'i\\> ucihi ivkc.; .■r.; '- '. i.^.
Pointed tlie >haf:.-., l!ie s-uii.i:r~ r^-r'vjr- -tr : .;.
1 'rcadful the sw-r 1^. and \:i; ir> ■_> .-.re ;':.■-■ :...: .-
( )f our well-bodied, tierce, an': n-;:;;u:- '■> 1-;"'-^ "
lianiU. who-.e re^i-tle-.- fury s - -ur- i: - ; '-1 '.
lireedy ef sla;;.;hter. and lu.ki. 'at. : '. ... . '

'■ Hence y'i:r fierce t'amer-n- f r ::..•. ::.:."., c they :c..r
As nia-^Ier^ n::e. and 1 r 1 i: c\ ; r\ \v::^;-.
Kv'n (.f Mich pwcr rujht ---.Mr : :' :-^r ' ~ 'a?;!
Hai^pv when :;u-u-ded : v - > I r >vv ..: - h -::
Ane host, wli.-e lu,,: d.c- :: ;>::c .■ :-'•;;. iei;,
In arn.s to c iuaj. e.' :.i ^tr.:.-,:;. •.'ex,','.. '

SIR EWEN CAMEROX.

After having prepared the way by these and other
such encomiums, the poet indicates the wrong he
had suffered, and craves redress in the following
modest language: —

" If, or your judgment does approve my song,
Or, if my sufferings claim redress of wrong —
Three cows well fed inor more, alas! had Ij
With drink and food sustain'd my poverty;
These I demand, oh I they the victims are
Of lawless ravage and destructive war."

But enough of this. It is more gratifying to state
that Lochiel and the company present not only
gratified the bard by giving him back his three
cows, but also a gratuity of 300 merks in money,
to encourage his poetical vein.

During the rest of the protectorate of Oliver
Cromwell, the chief of the Camerons submitted
to a rule which it was useless to resist; but when
General Monk undertook his memorable march
from Scotland to London for the restoration of
Charles II., he was accompanied, among other ad-
herents of the king, by Lochiel. lie was present
also when Charles entered London. But although
he was received with flattering distinction at court,
and afterwards knighted by the Duke of York at
Edinburgh, this was the only requital he received
for his services; while, on the other hand, he sus-
tained great annoyance as well as considerable loss
both in estates and money, chiefly through the ex-
tortions of Lauderdale, to whom the government
of Scotland was committed. At last Lauderdale
issued a commission of fire and sword against him,
and intrusted its execution to several of the most
powerful nobles both of the Highlands and Low-
lands, who however were not anxious to carry
it into effect. No one except the chief of the
Macintoshes, who was a feudal enemy of Sir Ewen
Cameron, readily undertook it; but as he endeavoured
to accomi^lish it in the genuine Highland fashion,
with a powerful array at his back, his adversary, who
was skilled in such modes of controversy, confronted
him in the same manner, and baffled his attempts.
When this quarrel was composed, the Earl of Argyle,
who at first had been on the side of .Sir Ewen's
enemies, invited the latter to spend a few days with
him at Inverary, an invitation with which the other
so readily comjilied, that he did not wait to denude
himself of a beard of some days' growth. The earl
offered him the services of his own valet-de-chambre,
which were accepted, and the process of lathering
and shaving went on in the room where they had been
conversing. The earl's eye however was caught by
sight of two grim Camerons, attendants of Lochiel,
who stood with tlicir backs planted against the door
of the room, to hinder any one from entering, while
their gaze was fixed, the one on the earl, and the
other on the valet. He mentioned this circumstance
to Locliiel, who protested his entire ignorance of the
matter, and desired the earl to fpiestion the fellows
himself On this being done, one of these life-guards
replied that, knowing the late feud of the earl against
their master, they were apjirehensive that he was
not merely to be shaved but murdered, and that
therefore they were resolved, if their suspicion
proved true, first to desjiatch his lordshi]), and
afterwards his servant. "I!ut," said his lordship,
"what do you think would have become of) ourselves
had you done such a thing?" "That we did not
think upon," replied the Highlander boldly, "we
were only resolved to revenge the murder of our
chief."

The rest of the reign of Charles H. was spent by
Lochiel in political controversies and legal bicker-
ings {<.>r the preservation of his estate — a species of

warfare with which he was unacquainted, and in
which he was certain to be worsted. As a devoted
adherent of the house of Stuart, he was in arms to
resist the invasion of the Earl of Argyle; and after
the abdication of James VII., and from the same
principle of loyalty, he joined Dundee, whose
followers were powerfully reinforced by the clan
Cameron. Erom his intimate knowledge of the
Highlanders, and the best mode of employing their
services in war, his advice was of important use to
the expedition, and when those delays were pro-
posed that would have been fit only for hired or
trained soldiers, he urged the necessity of action,
and the advantage of being the assailants. "He
[Dundee] advised with Lochiel," says the biographer
of the latter, "on eveiy occasion, and always fol-
lowed his opinion; and so much did he confide in
his sufficiency that he often declared that he was the
fittest person in the kingdom to command that army.
They both loved fighting and adventurous actions,
and were never known to differ in any one point;
and Dundee said often that he could never have
managed an army so different in costumes, humour,
and discipline froi:i those with whom he was bred,
if it had not been for the lessons he daily had from
him." Tiie events of the battle of Killiecrankie are
too well known to require repetition; it is enough to
state that at the head of his clan Lochiel, though
now an elderly man of threescore and three years,
showed all the activity and all the intrepid courage
of his youth, while his matured ex])erience and the
wisdom of his suggestions contributed materially to
the victory. During the battle, the chief was
closely attended by the son of his foster-brother,
who waited at his side like a shadow; but soon
after, on looking round, Lochiel missed his faithful
follower. He perceived him however at a short
distance in the agonies of death, and with his breast
transfixed with an arrow. He told his sorrowing
master, that, observing a Highlander in General
Mackay's army taking aim at him with drawn bow,
in the rear of the enemy, he had sprung forward,
and received the shaft in his own bosom, to save the
life of his chief It was the same touching devoted-
ness that had been exhibited by the father of tliis
faithful follower at the desperate skirmish of Acha-
dalew. Although the battle of Killiecrankie was so
decided a victory to the Jacobites, it was more than
counterbalanced by the death of their leader, Viscount
Dundee, and the ind^ecility of his successor. General
Cannon. After the battle .Sir Ewen Cameron re-
tirerl to Lochaber, leaving his men under the com-
mand of Ids eldest son. The resistance of the High-
landers had been maintained ujion the understanding
that an army from Erance was to be sent to their
aid, with the ex-king James at its head; but as these
])romises had not been fulfilled, the Highland chiefs
were assembled to decide whether they should con-
tinue the war by their own resources, or offer their
submission to King William u]ion favouraljle terms.
Tile greater \>art inclined to the latter alternative,
while several of the bolder and more chivalrous
spirits advocated a continued resistance. Among
these, the most distinguished was Sir Ewen, and his
arguments showed the jirinciijles in which llie mar-
vellous strength of Highland Jacobitism was chielly
founded. He declare<l that, whatever miglit be the
sentiments of men who were actuated by no otlier
])nnciple i)Ut that of interest, he was certain that it
was his duty, as a subject who had sworn allegiance
to King James, to serve and obey him as long as he
was able. As James was the lawful suceess(jr of the
most ancient and illustrious race of monarehs in the
^\or!d, so he [Sir Ewen] could not transf-r his alle-

SIR EWEN CAMERON JOHN CAMERON.

273

giance without a direct violation of the laws of God
and man. Tliou^h a successful rebellion niij^ht
change the names of things, yet it could never
alter the nature of truth and justice, nor transform
a violent intrusion to that of a lawful possession;
and that, for his part, he was resolved that the
dictates of his conscience should be the nile of his
actions; and that even though the case were doubt-
ful, yet, as a Highland chief, he thought himself
bounil to King James by the strongest ties of grati-
tude. After these considerations, which had their
force with men like-minded with himself, .Sir Ewen
adverted to the golden promises held out by James
to encourage the Highland resistance to the last —
promises, however, which the fickle and deceitful ex-
king was not likely to implement in the event of his
restoration. "You all know," said Lochiel, "what
that prince has done — or at least was resolved to do
— if ever it pleased God to restore him to the throne
of his ancestors. Nor are the last expressions of
his royal goodness ever to be forgot, which he has
been graciously pleased to transmit to us by the
Earl of Seaforth. Our countrymen are the only
persons he is to trust with the military part of the
government of this kingdom; we are to have his pay
as soldiers, with an indulgence either to live at home
with our commands, or where it shall be most agree-
able; and if any of us have capacities for offices in
the civil government, we have his royal promise for
it that we shall be preferred, according to our merits,
to posts of honour and profit. Our children are to
be educated under the royal eye; our country to be
enriched, and our families aggrandized; so that,
though our duty did not oblige us, the natural ties
of gratitude and generosity ought to prevail over all
other considerations, to make us endeavour in some
measure to reipiite his royal favours." After these
considerations, which were designed for the selfish
and calculating of the party, the disinterested ancient
chief ended his speech with the following character-
istic declaration: "For my own part, gentlemen, I
am resolved to be in my duty while I am able; and
though I am now an old man, weakened by fatigue,
and worn out by continual trouble, yet I am deter-
mined to spend the remainder of my life after my
old manner, among mountains and caves, rather
than give up my conscience and honour by a sub-
mission, let the terms be never so inviting, until I
have my master's permission to do it; and no argu-
ment, or view of interest or safety, shall prevail with
me to change this resolution, whatever may l)e the
event."

This address prevailed, and the voice of the as-
sembled chiefs was still for war. They unanimously
agreed to remain in arms, and open a fresh cam-
paign by a series of skirmishes until they were fully
prepared for general action. But their generals,
Cannon and P.uchan, were sufficient to mar any
entoriirisc. The proliminarj' skirmishes were ill
concerted, and ended in failure; and before these
events could ripen into serious overt acts, bv which
the Highland chiefs would have been committed,
the utter defeat of James at tlie battle of the lioync
set the que>tion, for the iire>ent at least, at rest.
There was no further hope of the jiresence of James
among them, or of reinlyrcements from France or
Ireland; and as the government of William still
kept the door open f)r reconciliation, the Highland
chiefs resolved to embrace the ("iiportunitx-, and
submit on honourable terms. This, however, they
would not do without the express permission of
King James, and having obtained it. the terms of
their surrender were readily accepted by the govern-
ment. But it %\as with reluctance that Lochiel took

VOL. I.

the benefit of the indemnity, and only accepted it
when further resistance would have been worse than
useless. His puljlic career had now ended, and he
disa])peared from the page of history. His !a.st
peaceful years were spent among his clan, and he
died in 1719, at the age of ninety. It is said that,
notwithstanding all his desperate conflicts and hair-
breadth escapes, he never received a wound, or lost
a drop of bl<x)d. He was thrice married, and had
four sons and eleven daughters. In his grandson,
the "gentle Lochiel," we recognize the same gal-
lantry, integrity, and loyalty as those which ani-
mated the heart of Sir Ewen, but softened and re-
fined by those graces of education which Sir Ewen
had not the means of acquiring.

CAMERON, John. Thiswas one of those learned
theologians, the natural offspring of the Reformation,
of whom the latter part of the sixteenth century, and
earlier of the seventeenth, were so prolific. He was
born at Glasgow about the year 1579, of respectable
parents, but of whose jwsition in life no statement ha,
been given. He received his education at the schools,
and finally at the university of his native city, at the
latter of which he regented, and taught the Greek
language. But being seized with the common desire
of the Scottish students of that period to visit foreign
I)arts, either to mature their acquirements, or find
congenial society, John Cameron, after teaching a
year in the college of Glasgow, went to France in
the year 1600. Arriving at Bordeaux, his literary
attainments excited the admiration of the two Protes-
tant clergymen of the city, for, as we are told, "he
spoke Greek with as much fluency and elegance as
others could speak Latin" — a rare superiority in the
scholarship of the period, which procured him the
friendship of the learned Casaubon. Through the
recommendations of the Protestant clergymen of
Bordeaux, Cameron was appointed a regent in tlie
newly founded college of Bergerai, where his oftice
was to teach the classical languages; but soon after he
was promoted to the higher office of professor of
philosophy in the university of Sedan, by the Due de
P>ouillon. In this conspicuous situation his character
for learning was so greatly increa>ed, that the I>jke
offered him the professorship of Clreek in the ^anle
univer^ity, wliich Cameron however re-jicctkiHy de-
clined. He a]ipears indeed to have prjsses^ed a lull
share of that restless disposition and love of change
that miglit lead onwarcl and upward, wdiich were
alreatly noted as characteristics of his countrymen:
and after remaining only two years at .'^edan, he re-
signed his profes-or^hip, visited Paris, and alter^vards
returned to ISordeaux, where he was once more cor-
dially welcomed.

He now had, an opportunity of indulging his err.it!;;
disposition by being ajipointed in 1604 one ot ;r:e
students of divinity who were maintained a! the ex-
pense of the I-'rencli Protestant Church. They were
thus to he prepared for its ministry wlien their ser-
vices should he required, and in tlie n.ieantinie \\e:e
at liberty to study in any Prote.-t.int C' lilege < n- >ci,' ■' 'I.
I'mler this exhibition he became trr.ver.::ig gu;ir iia"
and tutiir to the twosons of the Clianceil- -r o;" Navarre;
and while he held this otnee. Cameron -: er.t wwh
his charge one year at Par;-. t\\o at (itr.eva, aud
nearly a whole year at Ilei ieliicrg. -r.ier::;teiM;ng
the education of his purnl>, e.r.e >•! wV. lu I'.cair.e a^
verv accom|)li.--hed C-reek >cii"!ar. < 'n taie .;"a "t
-April. I(K)S. he gave at the i;n;ve;-~/.y • ''. I Ie-.''.e.ijerg
a public proof of hi- talent- I'V i:;a;t:ta;:'!ng a >er:es ot
the>es/)a/;v'.Va; /):•.' a;^w // "/. ';, /■ / ra. uhiehhave
lieen included in hi- pu:i'.;-!ie'l w^ rk-. During the
,-a;ne vear the death uf one ul the Prote-tar.t ni;n-

18

274

JOHN CAMERON.

isters of Bordeaux occasioned the recall of Cameron,
and he was appointed to fill the vacant charge, where
he had Primrose, a learned man, his countryman
and friend, for his colleague. He was not, however,
to occupy this peaceful office undisturbed. More
than any others, the Protestant church of France
existed by the sufferance of the government, and was
affected by every political change; and the parliament
of Bortleaux was distinguished by its hatred of the
ministers and adherents of the Reformation. This
broke out in l6l6, when the two ministers, Cameron
and Primrose, were visited with prosecution upon
very frivolous pretexts, which, however, was termin-
ated speedily, and without harm. But it was not so
in the following year, when two captains, who pro-
fessed the Protestant creed, were accused of the crime
of piracy, and sentenced to an ignominious death.
An appeal which was presented in liieir behalf against
the justice of the sentence before the parliament of
Bordeaux was arbitrarily rejected, and the accused,
whether guilty or not, were left for execution.
They suffered with such Christian resignation, that
Cameron, who had prepared them for their fate, and
attended them in their last moments, published a tract
entitled Coitstancc, Fo\\ d Rcsolutioit^ a la niort dcs
Capitaiites Blanqitet ct Giiillard. But to publish
such an account of the deaths of two men whom the
parliament had condemned was thouglit little, if
anything, less than high treason, and the pamphlet
was burned by the hands of the common executioner.
From Bordeaux, where he had little prospect of
peace, Cameron was transferred, in l6i8, to the
professorship of divinity in the university of Saumur,
the principal seminary of French Protestantism.
The church of Bordeaux affectionately clung to their
minister, and appealed to the synod against his re-
moval; but the verdict of the latter was, that
'"because of the pressing and urgent necessities of
the said university of Saumur, which is of mighty
concernment to all our churches in general, it doth
now order and decree that Monsieur Cameron shall
continue in tiie said jjrofessorship until the next
national synod, and the church of liordeaux to allow
and approve thereof " At the university of Saumur
he accordingly remained, where he had for his as-
sociate Dr. Duncan, one of those learned Scots who at
this period were so numerous in France. Cameron
was now at the height of his literary renown: his lec-
tures were highly popular, and the celebrated Du
Plessis Mornay was one of his frequent auditors.
lie also enjoyed in 1620 the coveted distinction of
a public intellectual tournament. The formidable
Daniel Tileuus, who had adopted the doctrines of
Arminius, liad expressed a wish to hold a public
controversy with Cameron upon the doctrines of
grace and free-will, to which the otlier readily as-
sented; and tlie encounter was to take ])Iace at the
house (jfa Prote^tarit gentleman in tiie neiglibourhood
of Orleans. The two champions met, and the con-
troversy was continued during four days, a full account
of which was afterwards ]>ublished at Ixyden. At
a time when orthodoxy was a matter of life-and-
death importance, and when an error in belief whicli
would now be consi<Iered trivial, was sufticient to
convulse parliaments, and throw whole nations into
commotion, suspicions had been wiiispered respect-
ing the soundness of some of Cameron's views. .Al-
ready, at the synod of Poitou, he had been charged
with holding the opinion of Piscator touching the
imputed righteousness of Christ, but this charge had
been cleclared groundless by the national synod held
at Alez. A similar accusation, fjuncled upon his
controversy with Tilenu*^, was arlduced against him
by the university of Leyden, where some of his ex-

planations were declared to be unsatisfactory, but
these he justified in a brief reply. He also had upon
his side, as advocate and defender, that great colossus
of theological learning, Bochart, who was at that
time a student of divinity.

The civil disturbances of France in 1620 had the
effect of dis])ersing the students of the university of
Saumur, and Cameron, with his family, took refuge
in England. He commenced lecturing on theology,
but privately, in London, until 1622, when James I.
a])pointed him principal of the university of Glas-
gow, in the room of Robert Boyd, who had held
the office, but was displaced for his devotedness to
Presbyterian principles. Cameron, on the other
hand, had a leaning to Episcopacy, and however
this might recommend him to royal favour, it was
not calculated to endearhimtoCilasgow, which already
had become the stronghold of the anti-prelatic spirit
of Scotland. The high learning and gentle ingratiat-
ing manners of Cameron not only tended to soften
this dislike, but probably to win over adherents to
his party; and Baillie himself acknowledged that
these qualities of the principal and Mr. Struthershad
almost succeeded in confirming him in his inclinations
towards episcopal rule in the church. The stay of
Cameron was short in Glasgow — not longer, indeed,
than a twelvemonth. It is stated by Verneuil, a
French writer of the period, that the reversion of his
sentence of banishment in France, and his longing
towards that country, were the causes of his leaving
Glasgow. Calderwood, however, states that he was
so disliked by the people, that he was forced to quit
that city. Plis ideas of the right divine of kings, and
the sinfulness of resisting their behests, however un-
reasonable, must have been too much for its sturdy
half-republican citizens, who had little sympathy for
the doctrines of passive obedience, and Cameron him-
self, as we have already hinted, was not so rooted in
his attachments to any one place as to be unwilling
to change it for another. At all events, leaving
behind him not only the strict Presbyterianism of his
native country on the one hand, but the favour of its
sovereign on the other, he returned to France, ami
took up his abode once more in Saumur.

If Cameron had thus abandoned his high office in
Glasgow, and left his native country in tlie hope of
being exempt from o[iposition, and leading a life of
peaceful study, he fountl little benefit by the change
of locality. The same causes which were to end in
a civil war in Ivngland were fermenting with still
greater violence in France, so that at .Saumur he was
permitted nothing more than to read his lectures
privately, instead of exercising the rights of a public
teacher. In 1623 the jirovince of Anjou apj^ealed
to the national synod of Charenton for the reinstate-
ment of Cameron in his ])rofessorship; but the king
aimounced his will that neither Cameron nor Prim-
rose should hold any jiublic office or employment in
the churches or uriiversities of France. The op])o-
sition of these clergymen to the Jesuits, and the
successful mamier in which they had exposed the
sophistries antl devices of the order, was the cause of
ihi-. severe restriction: it was the usual ])olicy of the
Jesuits to silence those whom they were unable to
refute. Cameron rejiresented the hardships of his
case t(j the synod. He might have (jblained, he
stated, very advantageous ap])ointments out of the
kingdom, which he had refused ti; accept, from his
love and obligations to the churches of France; and
that now, as he could neither hold office nor ]ier-
f inn ministerial or academical duties, he was witlunit
eiiqilfivnient, and destitute of the means of support.
The synod recognized the justice of this a]i])eal by
voting him a gratuity of a thousand livres. ^Vl length

JOHN CAMERON RICHARD CAMERON.

275

the king also relaxed in his favour, and he was al-
lowed to accept the ]5rofessorship of divinity in the
university of Montauhan, to which he removed near
the end of 1624. IJut whether in PVance or Scot-
land, his political opinions were unsuitable, and him-
self out of his proper element. His doctrines of
kingly right and passive obedience were distasteful
even to his own party, who had been compelled to
extort their privileges from loyalty with an armed
hand; and on one occasion an individual treated him
with such extreme and barbarous violence, that his
health was injured, and his life in peril. Sick and
weary of such a strife which he was unqualified to
confront, he retired for relief to the neighbouring
town of Moissac; but there his health found no re-
covery, so that he returned to .Montauhan, and died
a few days afterwards. This occurred in 1625, when
he was only forty-six years old. He left behind him
a widow and several children, whose maintenance
the French Protestant churches undertook, in conse-
f(uence of the services of Cameron, and the high
esteem in which his learning and character were
held.

Of his personal appearance and character his pupil
Cappel has left a full ilescription, from which Dr.
Irving has composed the following portrait. "With
respect to his person, he was of the middle size,
somewhat inclining to a spare habit, sound, but not
robust in his constitution. His hair was yellow, his
eyes were brilliant, and the expression of his counte-
nance was lively and ])leasant. He appeared to be
always immersed in deep meditation, and was some-
what negligent in his apparel, and careless in his
gait; but in his manners he was very agreeable, and
although he was not without a considerable share of
irritability, his anger was easily appeased, and he
was very ready to acknowledge his own faults. One
writer, of doubtful authority, has represented him as
a person of c )iisummate vanity, as a tedious preacher,
and an endless talker: but this account is evidently
to be received with a considerable degree of caution;
and his distinguished pupil Cappel has exhibited his
character in a most favourable light. According to
his impression, he was a man of eminent integrity
and Jiiety, open, candid, and incapable of guile; faith-
ful to his friends, and not spiteful to his enemies; of
so lib.'ral a turn of mind, tlial his generosity made
some approach to profusion."'

.Such was Cameron in his person and disposition:
of his learning there was but one opinion, however
variously expressed. Sir Thomas Unjuhart tells us
that, in consequence of his universal reading, he ob-
tained ti)e title of "the walking liijrary." Milton
speaks of him in his 'fctyacJiordon as "a late writer,
much applauded, an ingenious writer, and in high
esteem." liishop Hall regarded him as the most
iearnel writer th.it Scotland had produced. Simon,
in hi-, critical history of the principal commentators
on the New rc>iament, bear^ witness to Cameron's
intimate acquaintance with the principles of criticism,
his exact knowledge of the (irjek and Hebrew lan-
guage.>, a!id the skill with which lie had elucidated
the literal ai:d grammatical >en^e of many passages in
the >acred b. )iiks which he ]>riifc--sed to illustrate.
.\n 1 ammg niir in)dorn thcLigians, Dr. I've Smith,
.1 very high autJMrity, con>ider> Canier(;n as entitled
to be clashed aniMug the mo-t It-arned, judicious, ami
moderate interpreters, and declares iliat his annota-
tions "are jieculiarly valuable, and often anticipate
the remarks of later and more cclelirate.! writers."

Alt'.iough he was >n earne-t a >tude:it, he is repre-
sented as having not been f md .if writing; and tliat,
when he took up the i)en. it was eliietly from the
solicitation of hi? fiien^ls. or t!ie provocations of his

adversaries. But when he wrote, it was with rapidity
and ease, and the amount of his writings is remark-
able when we take into account the comparative
shortness of his life. Either his indifference to pos-
thumous fame, or the changes and vicissitudes of a
restless life, prevented him from committing these
productions to the press, and they were collected and
])ublished by his friends, chiefly from such copies as
had been taken by his pu])il>. These, however, have
been so highly valued, and so carefully preserved,
that they have been transmitted to our own day.
Soon after his death, his lectures delivered in the
university of Saumur were j)ublished, underthe follow-
ing title, Joh. Cameronis, S. 7yuoh<:[iae in AcaJemia
Sahnuriciisi iiuper Professoris, J'radictioties tn Sdcc-
tiora quacdiim X. T. Loca, Sahniirii habitir. Sal-
murii, 1626 8, 3 tom. 4to. A collecti<;n of his
theological works was published at (jeneva in one
volume folio in 1642, entitled jfoaiinis Catncrcnis,
Scoto-Brilanni, Theologi cximii, to. cw^o/j.ii'a, she
Opera partiin ab aitctore ipso cdila, partim post tjns
ohitiim 'i'ulgata, partim nusquam hact€>ntspiiblicala, vel
e Gallico idiomalc mine primiim in Lalinam Linguam
Translata:inunumcollecta,ctvariisitidicibiisinslrttcta.

CAMERON, Ricil.VRD, an eminent martyr of
the Scottish church, whose name is still retained
in the popular designation of one of its sects, was
the son of a small shopkeeper at Falkland in Fife.
His first appearance in life was in the capacity of
schoolmaster and precentor of that parish under the
Episcopal clergyman. But, being converted by the
field preachers, he afterwards became an enthusiastic
votarj' of the pure Presbyterian system, and, resign-
ing tho.se offices, went to reside as a precejunr in
the family of Sir ^Valter Scott of Harden. From
this place he was soon compelled to remove, on
account of his refusal to attend the ministrations
of the parish clergyman. He then fell into the com-
pany of the celebrated Mr. John Welch, and was
by him persuaded to acce]H a license as a preacher.
This honour was conferred upon him by Mr. Welch
and another ])ersecuted clergyman in the house of
Haughhead in Roxburghshire; so simple was the
ceremony by which these unfortunate ministers re-
cruited their ranks. Cameron s(jon excited the
hostility of the indulged Presbyterian clergy, by
the freedom with which he asserted the spiritual
independence of the Scottish church. He was, in
1677, reproved for this offence at a meeting of the
Presbyterian clergy at Edinburgh. The indulged
ministers having threatened to deprive hini of his
license, he was induced to promise that he would
be more sparing in his invectives against them; an
engagement which afterwanls burdened liis con-
science so much as to throw him into a deeji melan-
choly. He sought diversion to his grief in Holland.
^^■here his fervid eloquence and decided ehr.rr.e'.er
made a strong inqiressiun upon the banished iirirS-
ters. These men a]i]iear to have become conN;iKe(i
that his exlra^)rdina^v /eal could end only in !;:^
own destruction, as .Mr. Ward, in a-s:si:r.g at li:-
ordination, retained his hand for sonie t;nie v.ion
the voung jireacher's head, and exelainieii. '•liel'.old.
all ye beholders, here i-~ the hea-I of a fa-:tI.iV.I r.iiM^-
ter and servant of JesUs Chri-t, who -Iiall I'-e t!ie
same for his Master's intere-t. a:id it shad be -et \\\>
before the sun and ino.m. i:i the view of t!;e uorld.
Cameron returned to hi- na;i\e eou!.;ry i:; 16S0,
and. although field-]. reaclr.:!.; had iiow been nearly
suppressed by tlie -ever:;y of ;Iv,- gover.-.ment, he
immediatelv reconnnerice i tliat ; rac;;ee. It ;- lie-
ces^ary t<i be oiiserved. lliat ("av.ier-n d; 1 n' t iden-
tify himself ai anv ;-.:ue w.'.li tl;e Piesbvter.a:! clergy

276

RICHARD CAMERON

ALEXANDER CAMPBELL.

in general; while his proceedings, so little squared
by prudence or expediency, were regarded by his
brethren with only a gentler kind of disapprobation
than that which they excited in tl>e government.
The persecutors had now, by dint of mere brute
force, reduced almost all men to a tacit or passive
conformity; and there only held out a small remnant,
as it was termed, who could not be induced to re-
main quiet, and at whose head Mr. Ricliard Cameron
was placed, on account of his enthusiastic and ener-
getic character. On the 20th of June, 1680, in
company with about twenty other persons, well
armed, he entered the little remote burgli of San-
quhar, and in a ceremonious manner ]iroclaimed at
the cross, tliat he and those who adhered to him
renounced their allegiance to the king, on account
of his having abused his government, and also
declared war against him and all who adiiered to
him, at the same time avowing their resolution to
resist the succession of iiis brother tiie Duke of York.
The bulk of the Presbyterians beheld this transaction
with dismay, for they knew that the government
would charge it upon the party in general. The
privy council immediately put a reward of 5000
merks upon Cameron's head, and 3000 upon the
heads of all the rest; and parties were sent out to
waylay them. The little band kept together in
arms for a month, in the mountainous country
between Xithsdale and .Ayrshire. Put at length,
on the 20th of July, wlien they were lying in a
secure place on Airsmoss, l]ruce of Earlsliall ap-
proached them with a party of horse and foot much
superior in numbers. Cameron, who was believed
by his followers to have a gift of prophecy, is said
to have that morning washed his hands with par-
ticular care, in expectation that they were imme-
diately to become a public spectacle. His party,
at sight of the enemy, gathered closely around him,
and he uttered a short prayer, in which he thrice
repeated the expression — "Lord, spare tiie green
and take the ripe" — no doubt, including himself in
the latter description, as conceiving himself to be
among the best prepared for death. He then said
to his i)rother, "Come, let us fight it out to the last;
for this is the day which I have longed for, and tlie
day that I have prayed for, to die fighting against
our Lord's avowed enemies; this is the day tliat we
will get the crown." To all of them, in the event
of falling, he gave assurance that he already saw the
gates of heaven open to receive them. A brief
skirmish took place, in which the insurgents were
allowed, even by their enemies, to liave i)ehaved with
great bravery; but nothing could avail against
sujierior numbers. Mr. Cameron being among the
slain, his head and hands were cut off, and carried
to liilinlnirgh, along with tin- ]irisoners, among
whom was the celebrated Mr. Ilack^toun of Kathil-
let. It happened tliat the father of < 'ameron was at
this time in prisun for nonconformity. Tiie head
was shown to the old man, with the question, " Did
he know to wh'^n it had belonged." lie seized tlie
bloody relics with the eagerness of parental affection,
and, kissing them fervently, exclaimed, "I know, I
know them; they are my son's, my own dear son's:
it is of the Lord; good is the will of the Lord, w Jio
cannot wrong me or mine, but has made goodness
and mercy to follow us all our days." Tlie head
and hands were then fixed ujiori the Netherhow
Port, the fingers pointing upwards, in mockery of
the attitude of prayer. The headless trunk was
buried with the rest of the slain in Airsmoss, \\luic
a plain monument was in better times erected over
them. To this spot, while the persecution was still
raging, Peden, the friend of Cameron, used to re-

sort, not so much, apparently, to lament his fate,
as to wish that he had shared it. "Oh to be wi'
Ritchie !" was the frequent and touching ejaculation
of Peden over the grave of his friend. The name
of Cameron was applied to the small but zealous
sect of Presbyterians which he had led in life, and
has since been erroneously extended to the persecuted
Presbyterians in general. The twenty-sixth regiment,
which was raised at the revolution out of the west-
country people who flocked to Edinburgh, was
styled, on that account, the Cameronian regiment,
which appellation, notwithstanding the obvious error,
it still retains.

CAMPBELL, Ai,EX.\NDER, musician and poet,
was born in 1764, at Tonibea, on the banks of Loch
Lubnaig, above Callendar, and received his educa-
tion at the grammar-school of that town. While
yet a youth, he removed to Edinburgh, and studied
music under the celebrated Tenducci and others.
A decided taste for the art, and especially for the
simple melodies of his native country, induced him
to become a teacher of the harpsichord and of vocal
music in Edinburgh; and as he was a zealous ad-
herent of tile scattered remnant who still espoused
the cause of the unhappy Stuarts, he became at the
same time organist to a nonjuring chapel in the
neighbourhood of Nicolson Street, where the Rev.
Mr. Harper then officiated. While in this situation,
and still possessed of all the keen feelings of youth,
he became acquainted with Robert Burns, who is
said to have highly appreciated his ardent character,
as he must have strongly sympathized in his national
prepo.ssessions. It may also be mentioned that Mr.
Campbell was music-master to Sir Walter Scott,
with whom, however, he never made any progress,
owing, as he used to say, to the total destitution of
that great man in the requisite of an car. Mr.
Campbell was twice married, and on the second
occasion with such prospects of advancement, that
he was induced to abandon his profession, in wliicli
he was rising to eminence, and turn his attention to
the study of medicine, which, however, he never
])ractised on an extended scale, though he was ready
and eager to enqiloy his skill for benevolent purjxises.
The connections of Mr. Canipbell's second wife
were of so elevated a rank in life, that he entertained
hopes of obtaining, through their means, some em-
ployment under government, in his medical capacit)-;
but in this, as in many other things, he was destined
to experience a bitter disappointment. In 1798 he
published his first literary work, namely, A)i Intro-
duction to the History of Poetry in Scotland, Cjuarto;
to which were added, The Sonifs of the Loiciands,
with illustrative engravings by David Allan. The
History of JWtry, though written in a loose st\le,
and (lefornied here and tliere by ojiinions of a soiiie-
wjiat fantastic nature, is a work of considerable
research. It was dedicated to the artist Fuseli. It
i> worth mentioning that a dialogue on Scottisli
music, ]irefixed to the History, was the lirst means
of giving foreign musicians a correct understanding
of tile Scottisii scale, wliicii, it is well known, differs
from tiiat jirevalent on tlie Continent; and it is coii-
sistenl witli our knowledge, tiiat tlie autiior was
iiigiiiy conqiiimented on this suiiject by tlie greatest
Italian and Cernian composers. Aixmt tiiis time
.Mr. Canipiieii ijegan to extend his views from litern-
ture to tile arts; and he attained to a vei)' respectaljle
proficiency as a draughtsman, lii 1S02 apjieared
liis ijcst Work, A Tour from ]idinburi:;Ii throiiifi
7'arioiis I'lirts of Xorth Britain, &-'c., 2 vols, (juarto,
I'lnljeliislied witii a series of iieautifui aciuatiiit draw-
ings ijy liis own hand. Tiiis liook is very entertain-

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

277

ing, and, in some parts (for instance, the account
of Scottish society in the early part of the eighteenth
century), it betrays powers much above the grade
of the author's literary reputation. In 1804 Mr.
Campbell was induced to appear as an original poet,
in a work entitled The Grampians Desolate. If in
tills attempt he was not very successful in the prin-
cipal object, it must at least be allowed, that his
various knowledge, particularly in matters of Scot-
tish antiquity, and the warm zeal with which he ad-
vocates the cause of the exiled Highlanders, give
the work an interest for the j)atriot and the antiquary.
Mr. Campbell finally published, in 1816, two parts
of a collection of native Highland music, under the
title Alhytis Anl/iolo-^y, for which Sir Walter Scott,
Sir Alexander Hoswell, and other eminent literary
men, contributed modern verses. Unliappily, Mr.
Campbell's accpiiremcnts, though such as would
have eminently distinguished an independent gentle-
man in private life, did not reach that point of per-
fection which the public demands of those who ex-
pect to derive bread from their practice of the fine
arts. Even in music, it was the opinion of eminent
judges, that A/h'iis Anthology would have been
more favourably received, if the beautiful original
airs had been left unencumbered with the basses
and sympiionies which the editor himself thought
essential.

Mr. Campljell, in early life, had been possessed
of a handsome person, and a lively and social dis-
pjsition. Gifted, as he then was, with so many of
tliose accomplishments which are calculated to give
a charm to existence, it might have been expected
that his life would have been one of happiness and
prosperity. It was in every respect the reverse.
.Some unhappy misunderstanding with the relations
of his second wife led to a separation between them,
and two individuals, who, united, could have pro-
moted each other's happiness, lived for ever after
apart and miserable. A numerous train of disap-
pointments, not exclusively literary, tended further
to embitter the declining years of this unfortunate
man of genius. Vet his own distresses, and they
were numerous, both from disease and difficulty of
circumstances, could never either break his spirits,
or chill his interest in the happiness of his friends.
If he had the foibles of a keen temper, he was free
from the faults of a sullen and cold disposition.
After experiencing as many of the vicissitudes of life
as fall to the lot of most men, he died of apoplexy
on the 15th of May, 1824, in the sixty-first year of
his age.

CAMPBELL, Archibald, Marquis of Arg>le,
an eniia nt political character of the seventeenth
century, l)orn in 1598, was the son of Archibald,
.seventh I'.arl of .Vrgyle. He was carefully educated
in a manner suitalile to his birth and station. Having
been well grounded in the various branches of classi-
cal knowledge, he added to these an attentive per-
iis.il of the Holy Scriptures, in consequence of which
his mind because at an early period deeply imbued
with a sense of religion, which became stronger and
stronger till his dying day. There had long been a
hereditary feud between his family and the clan of the
Macdonalds, against whom he acfom]>anied his father
on an exi)edition in tlie year 1616, being then onlv
in the eighteenth year k^\ his .Tge; and two years
afterwards, his f.ither having left the kingdom, the
care of the Highlands, and especially of the Protes-
tant interest there, devolved almost entirely upon
him. In 1626 he was >worn of liis ni.ajesty's most
hoiiiiurable privv council, and in 1628 surrendered
ir.to tlie hands of the king, si.i far as lay in his power.

the ofhce of justice-general in Scotland, which had
been hereditary in his family, but reserving to him-
self and his heirs the office of justiciary of Argyle
and the Western Isles, which was confinncd to him
by act of parliament. In 1633 the Karl of Argyle,
having declared himself a Roman Catholic, was com-
manded to make over his estate to his son by the king,
reserving to himself only as much as might supjxjrt
him in a manner suitable to his quality during the
remainder of his life. 1 .ord Lome, thus prematurely
possessed of political and territorial influence, was, in
1634, appointed one of the extraordinary lords of
session, and in the month of .April, 163b', after the
national covenant had lieen framed and sworn by
nearly all the ministers and people of Scotland, he
was summoned up to London, along with Tratptair
the treasurer, and Roxburgh, lord privy-seal, to advise
his majesty under the existing circumstances. They
were all equally aware that the covenant was hateful
to the king; but Argjle alone spoke freely and
honestly, recommending the entire abolition of those
innovations which his majesty had recklessly made
on the forms of the Scottish church, and which had
been solely instrumental in throwing .Scotland into
its present hostile attitude. Traquair advised a tem-
porizing policy, but the Bishops of Galloway, Ross,
and Brechin were for strong measures, and suggested
a plan for raising an army in the north sufficient for
asserting the dignity of the crown, and repressing
the insolence of the Covenanters. This advice was
agreeable to his majesty, and he followed it out with
a blindness alike fatal to himself and the kingdom.
The Earl of Argyle, being at this time at court, a
bigot to the Romish faith, and friendly to the designs
of the king, advised his majesty to detain the Lord
Lome a prisoner at London, assuring him that, if
he was permitted to return to Scotland, he would
certainly do him a mischief. But the king, sup])os-
ing this advice to be the fruit of the old man's irrita-
tion at the loss of his estate, and seeing no feasible
pretext for such a violent step, allowed him to depart
in peace. He returned to Edinburgh on the 20th
of May, and was one of the last of the Scottish no-
bility that signed the national covenant, which he
did not do till he was commanded to do it by the
king. His father dying this same year, he succeeded
to all his honours and the remainder of his proi)erty.
During the time he was in London, Argyle was cer-
tainly informed of the plan that had been already
concerted for an invasion in Scotland by the Ir;>h,
under the Marquis of Antrim, who for the j^arl he
])erformed in that tragical drama, was to lie rewartied
with the whole district of Kintyre, which formed a
principal part of the family patrimony of Argyle. 1 his
arbitrary partitioning of his projierty. and lor a ] ur-
pose so nefarious, must have had no small intlueiiee
in alienating him from the court. He did in't. b.ww-
ever, take any decisive step till the asseniMy u: tiie
church that met at Glasgow, November 2i~t. I"^;S.
under the aus])lces of the Manjuis or 1 lair;;'/.-!!,
as lord high commissioner. When the inarqr.:-. I'v
]irotesting against every movement th.,u «a> '■'■■-'■^
I liy tlie assembly, and fuially bv attenij •::',_; i ■ '-is-
solve it the moment it entered i:po:i i.i>;:;e--. '^i---
covered that he was only ]>layii;g the g.T.iu- .' ii:e
king, Argvle, as well ns >eveia! "the: > t :,;•; n v.i:g
nobility, could no longer lenain iV"].! taki'V.: .y. a.;;ve
part in the work of relornia:i'i;i. < ':i "hr ■,'.-.::. '::a-.v al
of the comnii>.->ioner, all the li'-''.'-' ^'';::;-.. '"■■ '>^'-''
him except .Argyle; and at tlie c'.- -i- -t tiic a-e:i^:'lv,
Mr. Henderson tlie nio.'.era: -r. >e):>;!''e <■; th.e ad-
vantages they had derived tr- t.i b.;- ; i\ -er.ee. e^:i;;'Ii-
mented him in a lian I- 'ir.e -; eecn, \\\ \\:i:^!. lie re-
gretted that \\\> lnr.id:;i. had n..: j.-med vi:h ■iiem

27S

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

sooner, but hoped that God had reserved him for the
best times, and that he would yet highly honour him
in making him instrumental in promoting the best
interests of his church and people. To this his lord-
ship made a suitable reply, declaring it was not
from want of affection to the cause of God and his
country that he had not sooner come forward to their
assistance, but from a fond hope tliat by remaining
with the court, he might have been able to bring
about a redress of their grievances, to the comfort
and satisfaction of both parties. This assembly, so
remarkable for the bold character of its acts, sat
twenty-six days, and in that time accomplislied all
that had been expected from it. The six previous
assemblies, all that had been held since the accession
of James to the English crown, were unanimously
declared unlawful, and by this sentence their proceed-
ings in favour of Episcopacy were cancelled, and
Episcopacy itself overthrown in Scotland. Two
archbishops and six bishops were excommunicated,
four bishops were deposed, anil two, who made
humble submission to the assembly, were simply
suspended, and thus the whole Scottish bench was
at once silenced. The assembly rose in great triumph
on the 20th of December. "We have now," said
the moderator, Henderson, "cast down the walls of
Jericho; let him that rebuildeth them beware of the
curse of Iliel the 15ethelite." Wiiile the assembly
was thus doing its work, the time-serving Marquis
of Hamilton was, according to the instructions of his
master, practising every shift to give the king the
better ground of (juarrel, and allow him time to
collect liis forces. Preparations for an invasion of
.Scotland had for some time been in progress, and in
May, 1639, Charles approached the border with
about 16,000 men, while a large host of Irish Papists
was expected to land in his behalf upon the west
coast, and Hamilton entered the Firlli of Fortii with
a fleet containing a small army.

During this first campaign, while (leneral Leslie
with the main body of the Scottish army marched
for the border witli the view of carrying the war into
England, Montrose, at this time one of the most violent
of the Covenanters, was sent to the north to watch
over Iluntly and the Aberdonians, and .Vrgyle pro-
ceeiled to his own country to watcli the Macdonalds
and the Earl of Antrim, who threatened to lay it
wa-^te. For this purpose he raised not less than 900
of iiis va^^sals, part of whom he stationed in Kintyre
to watch the movements of the L^ish, and part in
Lorn to guard against the Macdonakls, while with
a third part he jjassed over into Arran, which lie
secured by seizing ujjon the castle of Brodick, one
of the strongholds belonging to the Marquis of Hamil
ton; and thus rendered the altenq^t on the part of the
Irish at tlie time nearly inijKjssible. On the pacifi-
cation that U>ok place at Birks, near Berwick, Argyle
was sent for to court; but the Earl of Loudon having
bejii sent up as commissioner from the Scottish estates,
and by his majesty's order been committed to the
Tower, where he was said to have narrowly escaped
a violent death, the Earl of Argyle durst not, at this
time, trust himself in tlie king\ hands. On the re-
sumption of hostilities in 1640, when diaries was
found to have signed the treaty of liirks only 10 gain
time, the care of the west coast, and tiie reduction
of the northern clans, was again intrusted to Argyle.
Committing, on this occasion, the care of Kintyre and
the Islands to their own inliabilnnts, lie traversed,
with a force of about 5000 men attended by a small
train of artillery, the districts of P>adenocli, Athol,
and Marr, levying the taxes imposed by the estates,
and enforcing subjection to tiieir authority. Tlie
Earl of .\thol, havint: made a show of resistance at

the ford of Lyon, was sent prisoner to Stirling; and
his factor, Stuart, younger, of GrantuUy, with twelve
of the leading men in his neighbourhood, were com-
manded by Argyle to enter in ward at Edinburgh till
they found security for their good behaviour, and he
exacted 10,000 pounds Scots in the district, for the
support of his army. Passing thence into Angus,
Argyle demolished the castles of Airly and Forthar,
residences of the Earl of Airly, and returned to
Argyleshire, the greater part of his troops being sent
to the main body in England.

In this campaign the king, finding himself unable
to continue the contest, made another insincere paci-
fication at Ripon, in the month of October, 1640.
Montrose, who had been disgusted with the Cove-
nanters, and gained over by the king, now began to
form a party of loyalists in Scotland; but his designs
were accidentally discovered, and he was put under
arrest. To ruin Argyle, who was the object of his
aversion, Montrose now reported, that at the ford
of Lyon he had said that the Covenanters had
consulted both lawyers and divines anent deposing
the king, and had gotten resolution that it might
be done in three cases — desertion, invasion, and
vendition, and that they had resolved, at the last
sitting of parliament, to accomidish that object next
session. For this malicious falsehood Montrose re-
ferred to a Mr. John .Stuart, commissary of Dunkeld,
who upon being questioned retracted the accusation,
which he owned he had uttered out of pure malice.
Stuart was, of course, prosecuted for leasi7i}^-nniki)ig,
and, though he professed the deepest repentance for
his crime, was executed. The king, though he had
made an agreement with his Scottish subjects, was
getting every day upon worse terms with the English,
and in the summer of 1641 came to Scotland with
the view of engaging the affections of that kingdom,
so that he might oppose the parliament with the more
effect. On this occasion his majesty displayed great
condescension; he a])pointed Henderson to be one
of his chaplains, attended divine service without
either service-book or ceremonies, and was liberal of
his favours to all the leading C'ovenanters. Argyle
was on this occasion particularly attended to, together
with the Manjuis of Hamilton anil his lirother
Lanark, both of whom had become reconciled to
the Covenanters, and admitted to their full share of
]iower. Montrose, in the meantime, was under con-
finement, but was indefatigable in his attempts to
ruin those whom he supposed to stand between him
and the object of Ids ambition, the supreme direction
of jniblic affairs. For the accom])lishment of this
darling purpose he projiosed nothing less than the
assassination of the I'^arls of Argyle and Lanark, with
the Marquis of Hamilton. I'inding that the king
regarded his jiroposals with horror, he conceived
the gentler design of arresting these noliles during
the night, after being called iqion ])retence of
s]K'akiiig with Charles, in his bed-chamber, when
tiiey might be delivered to a body of soldiers pre-
pared under the Earl of Crawford, who was to
carry them on board a vessel in Leith Roads, or to
kill them if they made any resistance; liut at all
events, to detain them till his majesty had gained
a sufficient ascendency in the country to try, con-
demn, and execute them under colour of law. Col-
onel Cociirane was to have marched with his regi-
ment from Mussellnirgh to overawe the city of Edin-
burgh; a vigorous attempt was at the same time to
have been made liy Montrose to obtain ])ossession of
the castle. In aid of this ])lot, an attemjit was made
to obtain a declaration for the king from the English
army, and the Catholics of Ireland were to have made
a rising, which they actually attempted on the same

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

279

day; all evidently undertaken in concert for the pro-
motion of the royal cause — but all of which had the
contrary effect. .Some one, invited to take a part
in the plot against .\rgyle and the llamiltons, com-
municated it to Colonel Hurry, who communicated
it to General Leslie, and he lost not a moment in
warninj,' its intended victims, who took i)recautions
for their security the ensuing night, and, next morning,
after writing an apology to the king for their conduct,
tied to Kiniel House in West Lothian, where the
mother of the two Hamiltons at that lime resided.
'I'he city of Edinburgh was thrown into the utmost
alarm, in consequence of all the leading Covenanters
judging it necessary to have guards ]ilaced ujion
their houses for the protection of their persons. In
the afternoon, the king, going up the main street,
w.as followed by ujiwards of 500 armed men, who
entered the outer hall of the parliament house along
with him, which necessarily increased the confusion.
The house, alarmed by this military array, refused to
proceed to business till the command of all the
troops in tlie city and neighl^ourliood was intrusted
to General Leslie, and every stranger not particularly
known ordered to leave the city. The three noble-
men returned to their post in a few days, were to all
appearance received into their former state of favour,
and the whole matter seemed in Scotland at once
to have ilrojjped into oblivion. Intelligence of the
whole affair was, however, sent up to the English
parliament by their agents, who, under the name of
commissioners, attended as spies upon the king, and
it had a lasting and a most pernicious effect upon his
affairs. This, and the news of the Irish insurrection,
which speedily followed, causeil his majesty to hasten
his dejiarture, after he had feasted the whole body of
the nobility in the great hall of the palace of Holy-
rood, on the 17th of November, 1641, having two
days before created Argyle a .Marquis. Finding on
his return to London that the parliament was getting
more and more intractable, Charles sent down to the
Scottish privy council a rejircsentation of the insults
and injuries he had received from that parliament,
with a recpiisition that they would send up to West-
minster a declaration of the deep sense they enter-
tained of the danger and inju>lice of their ])rescnt
course. A privy council was accordingly summoned,
and a number of the friends of the court, Kinnoul,
Roxburgh, and others, now known by the name of
Banders, having assembled in the capital, strong
suspicions were entertained of a design upon the life
of Argyle. Tiie gentlemen of Fife and the Lothians
hastened to the scene of action, wliere the high
royalists, wiio liad expected to carry matters in the
council against the English parliament, met with so
inucli opposition, that they abandoned their purpose,
and the king signified his pleasure that they siiouitl
not interfere in the business.

Wlien hohtilities had .actually commenced between
the king and the ]iarliament, Argyle was so far jue-
vaiied ujion by the .MaRiuis of Hamilton to trust
the asseverations of his majesty for jieacc, that he
signed, al'jng with Loudon, Warriston, and Hender-
son, the invitation framed by the court ])arty to tiie
queen to return from Holland, to assist in mediat-
ing a peace between his majesty and the two houses
of pailiament. I'lie battle of Fdgehill, however, so
inspiriteii the king, that he rejected the olTer on tlie
liretence that he diir-t nMt ln/ard her jiersun. In
1642, when, at the rcquc-t of the parliament of
England, tmops were raided by the ."Scottish estates
to aid the Protestaats of Ireland, -Vrgyle was nomi-
nated to a colonelcy in one of the regiments, and in
the month of January, 1644. he accompaineii General
Leslie with the Scottish arniv into England as chief

of the committee of parliament, but in a short time
returned with tidings of the defeat of the Marquis of
Newcastle at Newburn. The ultra royalists, highly
offended at the assistance afforded by the estates of
Scotland to the parliament of England, had already
planned and begun t(j execute different movements
in the north, which they intended should either over-
throw the estates ox oblige them to recall their army
from England for their (jwn defence. The Marquis
of Huntly had already commenced hostilities, by
making prisoners of the provost and magistrates of
Aberdeen, and plundering the town of all its arms
and ammunition. He also published a declaration
of hostilities against the Covenanters. Ivarl-maris-
chal, apprised of this, summoned the committees of
Angus and Mearns, and sent a message to Huntly
to dismiss his followers. Huntly, trusting to the
assurances he had obtained from .Montrose, Crawford,
and Nithsdale of assistance from the south, an<l from
Ireland, sent an insulting reply to the committee,
requiring them to disband, and not interrupt the
peace of the country. In the month of .April .\rgyle
was despatched against him, with what troops he
could raise for the occasion, and came unexpectedly
upon him after his followers had plundered and set
on fire the town of Montrose, whence they retreated
to Aberdeen. Thither they were followed by Argyle,
who, learning that the laird of Iladdow, with a
number of his friends, had fortified themselves in the
house of Killie, marched thither, and invested it
with his army. Unwilling, however, to lose time Ijy
a regular siege, he sent a trum])eter offering pardon
to every man in the garrison who should surrender,
the laird of Iladdow excepted. Seeing no means of
escajK', the garrison accepted the temis. Iladdow
was sent to Edinburgh, brought to trial on a charge
of treason, found guilty, and executed. Huntly,
afraid of being sent to his old quarters in Edinburgh
Castle, repaired to the liog of Gight. In the mean-
time about 1200 of the promised Irish auxiliaries,
under Alaster Macdonald, landed on the island ol
Mull, where they captured someof thesmall fortresses,
and sailing for the mainland, they disembarked in
Knoydart, where they attempted to raise some of
the clans. Argyle, to whom this Alaster Macdonald
was a mortal enemy, having sent round some ships
of war from I.eilh, which seized the vessels that had
transported them over, they were unable to leave
the country; and he himself, with a formidable force,
hanging u])on their rear, they were driven into the in-
terior, where they traversed the wilds of Lochaber and
ISadenoch, expecting to meet a royal army under
.Montrose, though in what j'lace they had no knov.--
ledge. Macdonald, in order to reinforce them, had
sent through the fiery cross in various directions,
though with indifferent success, till Montrose at las',
met them, having found his way through the country
in disguise all the way from C'xford, with only or.e ^jx
two attendants. Inlluenced by Montrose, the men of
.\thol, who were generally anti-covenanters, joiiic ;
the royal standard, and he soiui f lund liinisL-'.i .it tb.e
head of a formidable army. His situation wr.s i;ot.
however, promising. Argyle was in Ir.s rear, bcii^g
in pur-uit of the Irish, who had comir.if.ci terni^e
ravages u])on his estates, and there \\ere betoie him
6000 or 7000 men under Lord lilcho -;a;; oiiei at
Perth. Lilcho's troo]i>, however, vete o:iiy raw
militia, and tlieir leader- were di-alTected tot', e cause.
.■\s tiie most jirudeiit niea-;;re, lie did not w.v.t to l-e
attacked, but went to meet .Motitro-e. wiio was
marching ihrougli Strat!ua:n. lilei.o took uj> a
po>ition\ipon tlie plain . :' Tit'; erniv.ir. wliere he was
attacked by .Montio-e. ~.\-.'\ ! 'taliy i^.ute.i in tlie -; ace
ut a few minutes. I'cith leil a: once into the lian-.'.s

28o

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

of the victor, and was plundered of money and what-
ever could be carried away. The stoutest young
men he also impressed into the ranks, and seized
upon all the horses fit for service. Thus strengthened,
he poured down upon Angus, where he received
numerous reinforcements. Dundee he attempted,
but finding there were troops in it sufficient to hold
it out for some days, and dreading the approach of
Argyle, who was still following him, he pushed nortli
to Aberdeen. Here his former covenanting rage had
been bitterly felt, and at his approach the committee
sent otTthe public money and all their most valuable
effects to Dunnottar Castle. They at the same time
threw up some rutle fortifications, anil had 2000 men
])repared to give him a warm reception. Crossing
the Dee by a ford, he at once eluded their fortifica-
tions and deranged tiieir order of battle; and issu-
ing orders for an immediate attack, they were de-
feated, and a scene of butchery followed which has
few parallels in the annals of civilized warfare. In
the fields, the streets, or the houses, armed or un-
armed, no man found mercy: the ragged they killed
and stripped; the well-dressed, for fear of spoiling
their clothes, they stripped and killed.

After four days em]>loyed in this manner, the ap-
])roach of Argyle drove them to the north, where
they intended to take refuge beyond the Spey; but
the boats were all removed to the otiier side, and
the whole force of Moray was assembled to dispute
tlie passage. Nothing remained for Montrose but
to take refuge among the hills, and his rapid move-
ments enabled him to gain the wilds of Badenoch
with the loss only of his artdlery and heavy baggage,
where he bade defiance to the approach of anything
like a regular army. After resting a few days, he
again descended into Athol to recruit, and after-
wards into Angus, where he wasted the estates of
Lortl Couper. and ]iliindered the house of Dun, in
which the inhabitants of Montrose had deposited
their valuables, and which also afforded a sup])ly
of arms and artillery. Arg)le, all this while, fol-
lowed his footsteps with a superior army, but could
never come u[i with him. He, however, proclaimed
him a traitor, and offered a reward of ^20,000 for
his head. Having strengthened his army Ijy forced
levies in Athol, .Montrose again crossed tlie Gram-
pians, and spreading devastation along his line of
march, attemjited once more to raise the Gordons.
In this he was still unsuccessful, and at the castle
of Fyvie, which he had taken, was at last surprised
by .Argyle and the Larl of Lothian, who, with an
army of 3000 horse and foot, were within two miles
of his cam]) when he believed them to be on the
other side of the Grampians. Here, had tliere been
anything like managenit-nt on the part of tlie army
of the estates, hi> career had certainly closed, Init in
military affairs Arg}Ie was neither skilful nor brave.
After sustaining twf) assaults from very superior
numbers, M(jntrose drew off hi^ little army with
scarcely any loss, and by the way of .Strathbugie
])Iunged again into the wilii.-> of Hadenoch, where
he expected Macdonald and the lri.>h with wliat re-
cruits they had been able to raise. .Argyle, whc)>e
army was now greatly weakene<l by de-^ertioii, n;-
turned to Edinburgh and threw up his commission
in disgust. The estates, however, received him in
the most friendly manner, and ]ia>.-.ed an act approv-
ing of his coriduct.

By the parliament, which met this year on the
4th of June, Argyle was named, along with the
chancellor Loudon, Lord Balmerino, Warriiton, and
others, as commissioners, to act in concert with the
I'mgli.sh parliament in their negotiations with the
kin ■; but from the manner in which he was occu-

pied, he must have been able to overtake a very
small part of the duties included in the commis-
sion. Montrose no sooner found that Argyle had
retired, than, to satiate his revenge, he marched into
Glenorchy, belonging to a near relation of Argyle,
and in the depth of winter rendered the whole
country one wide field of blood. Nor was this
destmction confined to Glenorchy; it was extended
through Argyle and Lorn to the very confines of
Lochaber, not a house he was able to surprise being
left unburned, nor a man unslaughtered. Spalding
adds, "He left not a four-footed beast in the haill
countr}-; such as would not drive he houghed and
slew, that they should never make stead." Having
rendered the country a wilderness, he bent his way
for Inverness, when he was informed that Argyle
had collected an army of 3000 men, and had ad-
vanced as far as Inverlochy. Montrose no sooner
learned this than, striking across the almost inac-
cessible wilds of Lochaber, he came, by a march of
about six and thirty hours, upon the camp of Argyle
at Inverlochy, and was within half a mile of it liefore
they knew that there was an enemy within several
days' march of then.. The state of his followers did
not admit of an immediate attack by Montrose; but
everything was ready for it by the dawn of day, and
with the dissolving mists of the morning. On the
2d of February, 1645, Argyle, from his pinnace on
the lake, whither he had retired on account of a
hurt by a fall from his horse, which disabled
him from fighting, beheld the total annihilation
of his army, one half of it being literally cut to
pieces, and the other dissipated among the adjoin-
ing mountains, or driven into the water. Unable to
aid his discomfited troops, he immediately hoisted
sail and made for a place of safety. On the 12th
of the month he appeared before the parliament,
then sitting in Edinburgh, to which he related the
tale of his own and their misfortune, in the best
manner no doubt which the case could admit of.
The circumstances, however, were such as no colour-
ing could hide, and the estates were deeply affected.
But the victory at Inverlochy, though as complete
as victory can well be su]iin)sed, and gained with
the loss of only two or three men, wns perhaps
more jiernicious to the victors than the vantpiished.
The news of it unhappily reached Charles at a time
when he was on the point of accepting the terms of
reconciliation offered to his parliament, which re-
conciliation, if effected, might have closed the war
for ever; and he no sooner heard of this remarkable
victory, than he resolved to reject them, and trust
to continued hostilities for the means of obtaining
a more advantageous treaty. Montrose, also, whose
forces were always reduced after a victor)-, as the
Highlantlers were wont to gc) home to tlejiosit their
s])oils, could take no other advantage (jf "tlie day
of Inverlochy," than to carry on, upon a broader
scale, and with less interruption, the barbarous
system of \\arliiie whicii ])olitical, religious, and
feudal hostility had induced him to adopt. Instead
of niaiching towards the cajiital, where he migjit
have broken up the administration of the estates, he
advanced into the province of ,Morn\', and, issuing
an order for all the men above sixteen and ])elow
sixty to join his standard, jiroceeded to burn the
blouses and destroy the goods u])on the estates of
( oaiigehill, ihoijie, Cowhin, Innes, Ballendalloch,
l''o)ness, and I'itchash. He plundered also the
village of (iarmouth and the lands of Burgle, Lethen,
and Duffiis, and destroyed all the boats and nets
u]>on the Sj)ey. Arg)le having thrown u]) his com-
mission as general of the ami)', which was given to
General Baillie, he was now attached to it only as

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

231

member of a committee appointed by the parliament
to direct its movements, antl in this capacity was
jiresent at the battle of Kilsyth, Auj^ust 15th, 1645,
t!ie most disastrous of all the six victories of Mon-
trose to the Covenanters, upwards of 6cKX) men
beintj slain on the field of battle and in the pursuit.
This, however, was the last of the exjiloits of the
j^reat manpiis. There beiny no more detachments
of militia in the country to oppose to him, General
David Leslie, with some rci^iments of horse, were
recalled from the army in England, who surprised
and defeated him at I'hiliphaugh, annihilating his
little army, and, according to an ordinance of par-
liament, hanging up without distinction all the Irish
prisoners.

In the month of Febniary, 1646, Argyle was sent
over to Ireland to bring home the Scottish troops
that had been sent to that country to assist in re-
])ressing the turt)ulence of the Catholics. He re-
turned to Kdinhurgli in the month of May following.
In the meantime, Alaster Macdonald, the coadjutor
of Montrose, had made another tour through his
country of Argyle, giving to fire and sword what-
ever had escaped tlie former inroads; so that up-
wards of 1200 of the inhabitants, to escape absolute
starvation, were compelled to emigrate into Mcn-
tcith. But scarcely had they made the attempt,
when they were attacked by Inchbrackie, with a
])arty of Athol men, and chased beyond the Forth
near Stirling, where they were joined by the marquis,
who carried them into Lennox. .So deplorably had
his estates been wasted by Montrose and Mac-
donald, that a sum of money was voted for the
sup])ort of himself and family, and for paying annual
rents to some of the more necessitous cretlitors u]ion
Ids estates. A collection was at the same time
ordered througji all the churches of .Scotland, for
the relief of his poor jH-ople who had been jilundered
by the Irish. In July, 1646, when the king had
>urrendered him>clf to the Scottish army, .-Vrgyle
went to Newcastle to wait upon him. On the 3d
of .\ugu>t following, he was sent up to London, to
treat with the parliament of England concerning a
muigation of the articles they had presented to the
king, with some of which he was not at all satisfied.
He was also on this occasion the bearer of a secret
commission from the king, to consult with the Duke
of Richmond and the Marquis of Hertford concern-
ing the ]"iroi)riety of the Scottisli army and parlia-
ment declaring f )r him. Both of these noblemen
disapproved of the scheme, as it would be tlie en-
tire ruin of his interests. In this matter Arg_\le
certainly did not act with perfect integrity; and it
was pr.'hably a cori,>ciousne>s of this that kept
Irni ai)^e;n from any of the committees concerning
tiie king's ]ier-on, or any treaty tor the withdrawal
of the Scottish army, or the payment of its arrears.
Tile opinion of the^e two noblemen, however, he
faillifiUly rei> irted to hi> m.aje>ty, wdio professed to
be -.iti-Ucd, l);;t ^pnke of adopting some otlier plan,
givini; evident prool that his jiretending l'> nccei>t
conditions w.i> a mere jiretence — a ])Ut otY — till he
might Ije able to lay ii ild df ^ome lucky turn in tlie
chajiter of accident-;. It w.i-. jinihaldy frotn a jiain-
ful anticijiati'in of the fatal result of the king">; per-
tinacity, that -Vrgyle. wlien he returned to Ivdini)urgh
and attended tlii; parliament which a.->eml)led on
the 3d of Nuveniber, lieni.mded and ohtair.ed an ex-
plicit ajiproval (.fall tiiat he i;ad tran--acled, as their
accredited C'inim;.-s:.)ner; and it mu.--t nut be li>>t
sight of, ih.it, fir all the ].ui)lic bu-i:ic-< he had
been engaged in, exccp't what wis vnted him in
consequence of his great i>--e~. he never !i;therlo
had received one kinii.n.; ut >ai.i!'..

When the engagement, as it was called, was
entered into by the .Manpiis of Hamilton, and other
.Scottish I'resbyterian royalists, Argyle opposed it,
Ixicause, from what he ha<l Ijeen told by the Duke
of Richmond and the .Marijuis <>( Hertford, when he
had himself been half embarked in a scheme some-
what similar, he believed it would be the total ruin
of his majesty's cause. The event completely justi-
fied his fears. By exasperating the sectaries and re-
publicans, it was the direct and immediate cause of
the death of the king. (Jn the march of the En-
gagers into England, Argyle, Eglinton, Cassilis,
and Lothian marched into IMinburgh at the head
of a multitude whom they had raisecl, before whom
the committee of estates left the city, and the irre-
mediable defeat of the Engagers threw the reins
of government into the hands of .Argyle, Warriston,
Loudon, and others of the more zealous Bre.-byterians.
The flight of the few Engagers who reached their
native land, was followed by Cromwell, who came
all the way to Berwick, with the puqiose apparently
of invading .Scotland. Argyle, in the month of
September or October, 1648, went to Mordington,
where he had an interview with that distingui>hed
individual, whom, along with General Lambert, he
conducted to Edinburgh, where he was received in
a way worthy of his high fame, and everything
between the two nations was amicably settled. It
has been, without the least particle of evitlencc,
asserted that Argyle, in the various interviews he
held with Cromwell at this time, agreed that Charles
should be executed. The losses to which Arg}le
was afterwards subjected, and the hardbhi])s he
endured for adhering to Charles' interests after he
was laid in his grave, should, in the absence of all
evidence to the contrar)-, be a sufficient attestation
of his loyalty, not to speak of the parliament, of
which he was unquestionably the most influential
individual, in the ensuing month of Febniarv- pro-
claiming Charles II. King of Scotland, England,
France, and Ireland, (kc, than which nothing could
be more offensive to the then existing government
of England. In sending over the deputation to
Charles in Holland in the spring of 1649, Arg)le
was heartily concurring, though he had been not a
little disgusted with his associates in the a(hiiinistra-
tion, on account of the executicjn o( his brntlier-in-
law, the Marquis of Iluntly, whnm he in vain tried
to save. It is also said that he refuseil to a-sist at
the trial, or to concur in the sentence passed upon
the Marquis eif Montrose, in the month of May.
1650, declaring that he was to ) nmch a jiarty to be
a judge in that matter. ( If the leading ]iart he per-
formed in the itistallaticin of Charles II., upim whc--
head he j^lace 1 th.e crown at ."^cine on the 1st '>i
January, 165 1, we have not room to give any p.ar-
ticular account. (.•! the high consequence in\\liicii
his services were held at the time, there nee'is ii'.
other jiroof than the rei^urt that tl:e king iii:en''.t 'i

clau:
>m. a

marryuig one of 1
the king and king
well was now ready
committee of cstate^
ertions. Even after
consequent depressii
tercsts. he adhered
zeal and diligence, nf ^^ h
been sen~'.;'le at the tini
it expedient to leal tlie .■^'
in the vani hcpe of rai-ing
Presl>\ter;ar.s in h;~ l.U'
to remain at Ivnie. fr. .K
la-iv. AKer the wh' le !;^
Ijw at Wcice ter, >e; ;^

liters.

:ainst

o march.
ni.Tie tl'.e
le <hAv.V. a

tlie delence .
'f wh'iii Cr>'n
a> hea! -f ti

if the kir.,'- ler-
1:- n;a-v-:\ \i;:h ;
nc!l ( liiirie- - eni-
,e. \\";:en I i::ir!e

t.. hav,

A;,:'.

niitilerate
;-.ed leave
ie~- -f his

were lai'i
l.e retired

:82

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

to Inverary, where he held out against the trium-
phant troops of Cromwell for a whole year, till,
falling sick, he was surprised by General Dean, and
carried to Edinburgh. Having received orders from
Monk to attend a privy council, he was entrapped
to be present at the ceremony of proclaiming Crom-
well lord-protector. A paper was at the same time
tendered him to sign, containing his submission to
the government, as settled without king or house of
lords, which he absolutely refused, though after-
wards, when he was in no condition to struggle
farther, he signed a promise to live peaceably luuler
that government. He was always watched, how-
ever, by tlie ruling powers, and never was regarded
l)y any of the authorities as other than a concealed
loyalist. Wlien Scotland was declared by Cromwell
to be incorporated with England, Argyle exerted
himself, in opposition to the council of state, to
liave Scotsmen alone elected to serve in parliament
for North Britain, of which Monk complained to
Thurlow, in a letter from Dalkeith, dated September
30, 165S. Under Richard he was himself elected
for the county of Aberdeen, and took his seat ac-
cordingly in the house, where he wrougiit most effec-
tually for the service of the king, by making that
breach through which his majesty entered. On the
restoration, Argyle's best friends advised him to
keep out of the way on account of his compliances
with the usurpation; but he judged it more honour-
able and honest to go and congratulate his majesty
upon so hapi^y a turn in Ills aftairs. But when he
arrivetl at Whitehall, July 8, 1660, llie king no
sooner heard his name announced, than, "with an
angry stamp of the foot, he ordered .Sir \Villiam
Fleming to execute his orders," wliich were to carry
him to the Tower. To the Tower he was carried
accordingly, where he lay till tlie month of Dccem-
b-'r, when he was sent down to Leith aboard a man-
of-war, to stand his trial before the high court of
jmrliament. While confinctl in the 'I'ower, the
marfjuis made application to have the alfulavils
of several persons in England taken respecting
some matters of fact before the usurpation, which,
had justice been the object of his persecutors, could
not have been denied. Revenge, however, being
the object, tliese facts miglit have proved incon-
venient, and the request was flatly refused.

Argyle was brought before the Scottish parliament
for trial on the 13th of February, 1661. His indict-
ment, consisting of fourteen articles, comprehended
the history of all the transactions that had taken
])lace in .Scotland since 1638. The whole procedure
on one side of the question, during all that time, had
already been declared rebellion, and each individual
concerned was of course liable to the charge of
treason. .Middleton, lord high-connnissioner to
parliament, eager to pos>ess his estate, of which he
doubted not he would obtain the gift, conducted the
trial in a manner not only inconsistent with justice,
but with dignity and decency. I'Voni the secret
conversations Argyle had held with ("roni\\ell,
Middleton drew the conclusion, that the intenuption
of the treaty of Newjiort and the execution of Charles
had been the fruit of their joint deliberations. The
marquis was defended on this j)oinl by .Sir John
(iilmour, president of the court of session, with such
force of argument as to compel the reluctant parlia-
ment to excul])ate him from all blame in the matter
of the king's death; and, after having exhibited the
utmost contempt for truth, and a total disregard of
character or credit in the ])rosecution, the crown
lawyers were at length obliged to fix on his com-
pliance with the English during the usurpation, as
the only species of treason that could at all be made

to affect him. Upon this point there was not one of
his judges who had not been equally, and some of
them much more, guilty than himself. " How could
I suppose," said the marquis with irresistible effect
in his defence on this point, "that I was acting
criminally, when the learned gentleman who now
acts as his majesty's advocate took the same oaths
to the commonwealth with myself?" He was not
less successful in replying to every iota of his indict-
ment, in addition to which he gave in a signed sup-
jdication and submission to his majesty, which was
regarded just as little as his defences. The modera-
tion, the good sense, and the magnanimity, however,
wdiich he displayed, joined to his innocence of the
crimes charged against him, wrought so strongly
upon the house, that great fears were entertained
that, after all, he would be accjuitted. To counteract
the inlluence of his two sons. Lord Lome and Lord
Neil Campbell, who were both in London, exerting
themselves in his behalf, Glencairn, Rothes, and
Sharpe were sent up to court, where, when it was
found that the proof was thought to be defective,
application was made to General Monk, who fur-
nished them with some of the Marquis of Argyle's
private letters, which were sent down post to Mid-
dleton, who laid them before parliament, and by
this means obtained a sentence of condemnation
against the noble marquis, on Saturday the 25th;
and he was executed accordingly on Monday the
27th of May, 1661.

Than the behaviour of this nobleman during his
trial, and after his receiving sentence of death,
nothing could be more dignified or becoming the
character of a Christian. Conscious of his integrity,
he defended his character and conduct with firmness
and magnanimity, but with great gentleness and the
highest i-espect for authority. After receiving his
sentence, when brought back to the common jail,
his excellent lady was waiting for him, and, em-
bracing him, wept bitterly, exclaiming, "The Lord
will re(|uite it;"' but, calm and composed, he said,
"Forbear; truly, I j)ily them; they know not what
they are doing; they may shut me in where they
please; but they cannot shut out God from me. F'or
my part I am as content to be here as in the castle,
and as content in the castle as in the Tower of
London, and as content there as \\-hen at lil>erty,
and 1 lio])e to be as content on the scaffold as any of
them all." His short time till Monday he spent in
serenity and cheerfulness, and in the iiroper exercises
of a dying Christian. To some of the ministers he
said that they would shortly envy him for having got
before them, for he added, "My skill fails me, if }Ou
who are ministers will not either suffer much, or sin
much; for, though you go along with those men in
part, if y<ni do it not in all things, vou are but where
you were, and so must suffer; and if you go not at all
with them, you shall but suffer." (_)n the morning
of his executi(jn he sjient two hours in subscribing
papers, making conveyances, and forwarding other
matters of business relating to his estate; and while
so employed, he suddenly became so overjwwered
with a feeling of divine goodness, according to con-
temporary authorily, that he was unable to contain
himself, and exclaimed, "1 thought to have con-
cealed the Lord's gooilness, but it will not do: 1 am
now ordering my affairs, and (Jod is sealing my
charter to a better iidieritance, and saving to me,
'Son, be of good cheer; thy sins are forgiven thee.'"
He wrote the same day a most affecting letter to the
king, recommending to his jirotection his wile and
children. " He came to the scaffold," says IJurnet,
"in a very solenni, but undaunted manner, acc(mi-
jjanied with many of the nobility and some ministers.

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL

283

He spoke for half an hour with a great appearance
of serenity. Ciinninj^ham, his physician, tokhnethat
he touched liis pulse, and it did then beat at the
usual rate, calm and strong." It is related, as an-
other i)roL)f of the resolution of Argyle, in the last
trying scene, that, though he had eaten a whole
partridge at dinner, no vestige of it was found in his
stomach after death; if he had been much affected
by the anticipation of death, his digestion, it may be
easily calculated, could not have been so good. His
head was struck off by the instrument called the
maiden, and affixed on the west end of the Tolbooth,
where that of Montrose had been till very lately
perched; a circumstance tliat very sensibly marks
the vicissitudes of a time of civil dissension. His
body was conveyed by his friends to Dunoon, and
buried in the family sepulchre at Kilmun.

Argyle, with (c\v cpialities to cai)tivate tlie fancy,
has always been esteemed by the .Scots as one of the
most consistent and meritorious of their patriots.
For the sake of his exemplary cliaracter, and dis-
tinguished resistance to the measures of Charles I.,
as well as his martyrdom in that cause, they have
overlooked a quality generally brantied with their
contempt — his want of courage in the field — which
caused him, throughout the whole of the transac-
tions of the civil war, to avoid personal contact with
danger, though often at the head of large bodies of
troops. Tile habits of Argyle in private lile were
those of an eminently and sincerely pious man. In
Mr. Wodrow's diary of traditionary collections, it is
related, under May 9, 1 702, upon the credit of a
clergyman, the last survivor of the Cleneral Assembly
of 1651, that his loniship used to rise at five, and
continue in private till eight: besides family worship,
and private prayer, morning ami evening, he prayeti
with his lady morning ami evening, in the jiresence
of his own ,i,'cV///t'W(?// and hcv gciitlc':i'0»iaii ; he never
went abroad, thi)ugh but for one night, without
taking along with him his writing-standish, a Bible,
and .\\"i-iHiiii's CcnicorJancc. Upon the same
authority we relate the following anecdote: — "After
the coronation of King Charles II. at .'^cone, lie
waited a long time for an opportunity of dealing
freely with his majesty on religious matters, and ]iar-
ticularly about his suspected disregard of the coven-
ant, and his encouragement of malignants, and other
sins. One Sabbath night after sujiper he went into
the king's closet, and began to converse with him C)n
these topics. Charles was seemingly sensible, and
they came at length to pray and mourn together till
two or three in the morning. When he came home
to his lady, she was surprised, and told him she never
knew him so untimeous. He said he never had had
such a sweet night in the world, and told her all —
what liberty he had in jirayer, and how much con-
vinced the king was. She said plainly that that
night would cost him his head — which came to pass."
Mr. Wodrow also mentions that, during the Cdasgow
assemlily, Henderson and other ministers spent many
ni;^lits in ])raycr and cont'erence with the .^la^|uis of
Atgsle, and he d.itt'd his conversion, or his know-
ledge of it, from tlio>e times. His lordshiji was
married to M.u-^'ari.-t, secon<l daughter of William,
second I-'.ari of .Morton, and by her left two sous and
three ilaughters.

CAMPBELL. AKcmr.M.i). Ninth Karl of Argyle,
son of the ]>recediiig. \\a^ an equally unfortunate,
though less (|i^tingui^lK•d, iiolitical cliaracter, in the
unliap|iiest era of >cotti--li history. 1 le was educated
under the eve of his father, aiKl, at an early jieriod
of life, was highly di-liTigui--l;ed fir his jiersonal
accomjilishmeiits. .\lier going through tlie schools.

he was sent to travel on tlic Continent, and, during
the years 1647, 1648, and 1649, si)ent the greater
paVt of his time in France and Italy. He apjjears
to have returned to Scotland about the close of 1649,
and we find him in 1650, after Charles H. ha<l arrived
in .Scotland, a])|)ointed colonel of one of the regi-
ments of fjot-guards that were emb(jdied on that
occasion, liolding his commission from the king in-
stead of the parliament. He was jirescnt at the
battle of Dunbar, fought in the month of September,
1650, when he displayed great bravery; and where
his lieutenant-colonel, Wallace, \\ ho afterwards com-
manded the Covenanters at Pent lam 1, was taken
l^risoner. After the battle of Worcester he still
continued in arms, and kept \\\t a jiariy in the High-
lands ready to serve his majesty on any favourable
opportunity. Nor did he hesitate, for this ]iurposc,
to act along with the most deadly enemies of his
house. In 1654 he joined the Larl of (Jlencairn
with a thousaml foot and fifty horse, contrary to the
advice of his father, who saw no jiossibiliiy of any
good being done by that ill-advised armament. After
having remained with these cavaliers for a f')rtnii;lit,
finding his situation neither safe nor comfortable
among so many Murrays, Gordons, and Macdonalds,
he withdrew from them, taking the road for the
barracks of Ruthven, and was pursued by Macdonald
of Gleiigary, who would certainly have slain him,
had he not escaped with his horse, leaving his foot
to shilt for themselves. Glengary, having missed
Lord Lome, would have revenged himself by killing
his jieople, but was prevented by Gleiicairn, who
took from them an oath of fidelity, and. carried them
back to the camp; whence they in a short time found
means to escape in small bodies, till there was not
one of them remaining. On this occasion he held a
commission of lieutenant-general from Charles II.,
which rendered him so obnoxious to Cromwell, that
he excepted him from his act of grace, jjublislied in
the month of April this year. Lord Lome was soon
after obliged to take refuge in one of his remote
islands, with only four or five attendants, and, seeing
no prospect of deliverance, submitted to the conimon-
wealili government. In November of the following
year, 1655, .Monk comiielled him to tiiul security tor
his jieaceable behaviour to the amount of /. 50CO
sterling. He was, notv.ithstanding, constantly
watched, particularly by the Lord liroghiU, wlui
had the meanness to corrupt e^■en his body servants,
antl constitute them spies ujion their master's con-
duct. In the spring of 1657 Monk committed liiiii
to prison, and Broghill was earnest to have hmi
carrieil to Kngland, for the more efiectually jnever.t-
ing his intrigues among the royalists, .shortly alter
the restoration he waited on his maje-ty, Cliaiics 11.,
with a letter from his father, and was received - ■
graciously, that the marciuis was induced to go u',i
to London upon the same errand as his son, 1 i;t w..-
sent to the Tower w ithout an audience. I »i;r;:ig iiie
time that .Middletoii was ])ractising a^ain-t li:- l.r.iiev
the marquis. Lord Lome exerted hini-elt willi gre.Tl
Zeal, ami though he failed in re-ci;iiig lii- l-. .oveo
parent from the toils intowliicli he had !te:i :.i;::te !.
he left a lavourahle im]ires-:on iiii tlie lii.:. i "i
Chailes with reganl to hini-,elf. and. in pl.ue ^'l be-
stowing the estate- of Ar_;\'.e u; i:i M , i' .I.".' 'n. a--
tiiat piothgate fondly exiiectci, lie w.'- ir.-iv.Led t"
re-tore them, as well as tile origin.-:! •,;;'.e ol (,,;i]. ;■■
the ri^htliil heir. Nor w.i- tli> r.i. : ^^:.';l. ;•■ ".:.■,
astonishment of all the \v..rii. he w.;-. i.y ;!ir Se i-
tisli iiarliameiit, condeiinied to de.".'!.. r.n ur tli<
odious statute re-pectin,,; U .t-ir.^'-ir.r/kn.g. he w .; ^
again -a\ed l>y ti.e io_\ .-.i ia\>'Ui', to tile ej:.u;-:on ot
h.s enemies.

2S4

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

For some considerable time after this, tliere is
little to be told of the Earl of Argyle. It was on
the 29th of June, 16S1, that he gave his vote in the
council against Donald Cargill; and the very next
day the parliament sat down which framed, under
the direction of the bigoted James VII., then Duke
of York, and commissioner to the Scottish parlia-
ment, that bundle of absurdities known by the name
of the test, which was imposed without mercy upon
all, especially such as lay under any suspicion of
I'resbyterianism. This absurd oath was refused by
many of the Episcopal ministers, who relinquished
their places rather than debauch their consciences
by swearing contradictions. Some took it witli ex-
planations, among whom was Argyle, who added
the f<.)]lowing: tliat, as the parliament never meant
to impose contradictory oaths, he took it as far as
consistent with itself and the Protestant faith, but
that lie meant not to bind or preclude himself in his
station in a lawful manner from wishing or endeav-
ouring any alteration which he tiiouglit of atlvantage
to the cliurch or state, and not rcjiugnant to the
Protestant religion and his loyally; and this he un-
derstood to be a part of his oath. This explanation
he submitted to the Duke of York, who seemed to
be perfectly satisfied; but he had no sooner put it in
practice than he was indicted for his explanation, as
containing treason, leasing, and perjury, and, by a
jury of his peers, brought in guilty of the two first
charges. Pliis was on the 13th of December,
16S1, and on the night of the 20lh, fearing, as he
had good reason, that his life would be taken, he
made his escape out of the ca.■^tle, disguised as a
])age, and bearing up the train of his step-daughter,
Lady Sophia Lindsay, sister to the Earl of Balcarras.
On the third day alter sentence of death was pro-
nounced ui)on him, Fountainliall says, "There was
a great outcry against tlie criminal judges and their
timorous dislionesty. Tile .Manpiis of .Montrose was
chancellor of this assize. Sir George Lockliart called
it lucrative treason to the advantage of ciiurch and
state; and adnared how a man could be condemned
as a traitor f jr saying he would enileavour all the
amendment he can to the advantage of churcli and
state."' Even those who thought the words deserved
some lesser ])uni:,hment, called it dialjolical alchemy,
to screw ihem into treason. Lord Halifax told
(Jhailes hini-iclf, tiiat he knew not the Scottish law,
but the English law would not have hanged a dog
for such a crime.

On his escajje from the castle, Argyle, by the di-
rection of .Mr. J(jhn Scott, inini-,ter oi Hawick, rode
straigiit to the house of Pringlc of Torwoodlee, wlio
sent his servant along witii liim to the house of Mr.
William \'eitch, wlio C(jnducti.-d hini to Clapwcll,
in Dcrbysiiire; where, becoming afraid from tlie
alarm tliat had been every wiicrc gi\en, Mr. \citcli
tiiouglit it ])rudent to advice wilii Lockycr, an old
(_!romwcliian captain, who generously (jficred his ser-
vices to conduct Argyle >afely to Loiidnii; wjiich he
did, bringing him hr^t to I!atter>ea, f >ur niile> aiiove
London, to Mr. Smilli's, a s!ig;ii-haker's house,
\vhosj wife was a very pious and geiicruus gentle-
woman. They were ricii, and iia-l un children; of
course they were able to do a great deal in the way
of charity, without hurling llieni^elves. Tliev ac-
([uaiiited the lady with the earl\ secret. Iml concealed
it from her husband, and his loril>hi]i ])a-.seil lor an
ordinary Scottish gentleman of the name of llojje.
Tile lady, however, in a day or two sent to one of
her agents in the city to ])rovide two cliaiiiljeis, nl a
good distance from one another, wiiere two l>iend> of
lier's might be quiet and retired for a while; and .\r-
<:vle and \'citch were sent to town bv night to the

house of Mr. Holmes, the lady's agent, to be directed
to their lodgings. None of them knew Holmes; but
the moment Holmes came into the room which they
had been shown, he took Argyle in his arms, saying,
"My dear Lord Argyle, you are most welcome to me."
Argyle, in astonishment, and not without some visible
concern, inquired how he knew him. "I knew you,"
saitl Holmes, "since that day I took you ])risoner in
the Highlands, and brought you to the castle of Edin-
burgh. But now we are on one side, and I will ven-
ture all that is dear to me to save you." So he car-
ried them to their several lodgings; those of Argyle
being known to no one but Mr. V'eitch and Holmes.
As soon as the noise about his escape was over, Mrs.
Smith brought them both out to a new house they
had moved to at Brentford, Argyle passing for a Mr.
Hope, and Veitch for a Captain Fabes. Here there
were frequent meetings of noblemen, gentlemen, and
rich merchants, with a view of devising means for
preventing the nation from falling into slavery; but
the whole ended in the discovery of the Rye-house
Plot, which occasioned the aj^prehending of Mr.
William Carstairs, Mr. Spence, and Baillie of Jervis-
wood — the two fo.'mer of whom were put to the tor-
ture, and the latter executed in the most cruel manner.
Upon the appearance of the plot being discovered,
Argyle went over to Holland; and Mrs. Smith, who
was deep in the jjlot also, [)ersuaded her husband to
emigrate to that country from general motives, for he
was ignorant of the plot; and they continued to live
together, taking up their abode at Utrecht. A eitch,
happily, when the search was made for them in Lon-
don, had departed for Scotland; and, after hiding
for some time in the best manner he could, he also
stole over to Holland. There he met with Monmouth,
Argyle, the Earl of Melville, Lord Polwart, Tor-
woodlee, James Stuart, and many others similarly
situated, who all took a deeji interest in the plan now-
formed for invading both kingdoms at the same time,
Monmouth to lead the attack upon England, and
Argyle that ujion Scotland. "Both of them," says
Veitch, who seems to have been (juite familiar with
the whole plan, "had great promises sent them of
assistance, but it turned to nothing, and no wonder;
for the one part kept not their promises, and the other
followed not the measures contrived and concertetl at
Amsterdam, April the 17th, 16S5." Tlie persons
]n-esent at this meeting were Argyle, and liis son
Charles Campbell, Cochrane of tichiltrcc, Hume of
Polwart, Pringle of Torwoodlee, Denholni of West-
shields, Hume of Bassendean, Cochrane of Waterside,
Mr. (Jeorge Wisheart, William Cleland, JamesStuart,
and Ciilbert Elliot. Mr. \'eitcli says he brought old
President Stairs to the meeting with much jiersuasion ;
and he gave bond for/'iooo to Madam Smith, whose
luisl)and was now dead; and she lent out /^6ooo or
/"jooo more to Arg)le and others f jr carrying on the
enterprise.

Having made all necessary arrangements, so far as
was in tlieir jxnver, and de>]iatched Messrs. Barclay
and \'eitch, Cleland and Torwoodlee, to different
])arts of Scotland to ]ire]:)are for their reception, Ar-
gyle and his com])aiiy \\eiit on board their fleet of
three ships, the .-luiiii, Sophia, and Dai-id, lying off
the Vlie, on the 28tii of Ajiril, and, with a fair wind,
set sail for Scotland, and in three days ap])roaLlied
the Orkneys. At Kirkwall, most unfortunately,
Spence, Argyle's secretary, and Blackadder, liis ]iliy-
sician, went onshore, were instantly ai)]irehendeil by
the bishop and sent up to Ivlinburgh, wliieli alarmed
tlie government, and gave them time t(j ])re[)are f(;r
tlie attack which they liad heard of, Init of which they
\\ere now certain. .Sailing round to Argyle s country,
i his son was landed, who sent through the fiery cross.

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.

2S5

but with no great eflfect. Finding that they were
pursued by a frigate, they put into a creek and landed
their arms and stures at the old castle of Allangreg.
In the meantime the Marquis of Athol came against
them witli a considerable force, by whom they were
drawn away from the castle, leaving only 150 men to
defend it iii case of an attack. Being attackeil, the
small garrison fled, and the whole of their provisions
and stores fell into the hands of the enemy. All this
was discouraging enough; but, what was worse, they
were not agreed among themselves, nor was the
country agreed to take part with them. The suffer-
ing I'resbyterians would have nothing to do with .\r-
gyle, with whom they were highly offended for the
part he had hitherto acted, and the declaration he
emitted did not give them great hopes of that which
was yet to come. In short, it was soon evident that
they would be obliged to separate, and every man to
shift for himself in the best manner he could. Dis-
appointed in the Highlands, it was proposed to try
the Lowlands; but they had wandered in the High-
lands till the government forces, under Athol, Gor-
don, and Duml)arton, had cut off their communica-
tion with the disafTected parts of the country, and
even cut them off from the possi])ility of escape. It
was at last, however, resolved that they should march
upon Glasgow; and they crossed the water of Leven
three miles above Dumbarton, on the night of the
l6th of June. Marching next morning towards Kil-
maronock, in the hope of finding some provisions, of
which they were in absolute want, they discovered a
party of horse, and stootl to their arms, but the party
they had observed being only a small body of horse-
men not sufficiently strong to attack them, they passed
on. On setting their watch the same night, they were
alarmed again by a party of the king's forces. At-
tempting a night march to Glasgow, they wandered
into a m )ss, where they were so l^roken and scattered,
that, in tiie morning there were not above 500 of them
together.

All hope of success was now over. Sir Jojin
Cochrane and Sir Patrick Hume crossetl the Clyde
with about 150 men; and .\rgyle refusing to follow
them, marched to .Muirtlyke, where his troops were
attacked by Lord Ross, whom they repulsed in a
very gallant manner, but were under the necessity of
separating shortly after. Argyle, thus left to himself,
despatched Sir Duncan Campbell and two Duncan-
sons, father and son, to his own country, to attempt
raising new levies, and repaired himself to the house
of an old servant, where he calculated upon a tem-
porary asylum, hut was peremptorily denied entrance.
In couse(iuence of this he crossed the Clyde, atten<ied
only by one companion. .\t the ford of Inchinnaii
they were stopped by a parly of militiamen. I'ul-
larton, the name of Argyle's companion, used every
niean> he could think of to save his general, who was
habited as a plain countryman, and whom he ]iasseil
for hi> guide. Seeing them determined to go after
his guide, as he called him, he offered to surrender
without a l>Iow, j-irovided they did not hurt the poor
man ulio wa> conilucting him. These terms they
accepted, but did not adhere to; t\v(^ of their numl)eV
going after .\r:^yle. who, being on horsrback, grap-
pled with them till one of them and himself came to
the ground. He tlien jiresented hi> pocket-pistol,
when the two retired, hut otlier five ailvancing,
knocked him down with th.'ir swords and >ci/ed him.
When tliey found who it was they had made prisoner
they were exceedingly sorry, but they durst not let
him go. Fullaraton, perceiving the stii>u!at:on on
which he had surrendered broken, snatcheil at the
sword of one of them in order to take vengeance
upon his perh.lious opponents, but, failing in his at-

tempt, he too was overpowered and made prisoner.
Renfrew was the first place that was honoured with
the presence of this noble captive; whence, on the
20th of June, he was led in triumph into Kdinburgh.
The order of the council was particular and peremp-
tory, that he should be led Iwreheaded in the midst
of Graham's guards, with his hands tied lx.-hind his
back, and preceded by the comm(jn hangman; and
the more to expose him to the insults of the mob, it
was specially directed that he should \>e led to the
castle, which was to tx: the place of his confinement,
by a circuitous route. All this, however, only serveil
to display more strongly the heroic dignity, the meek-
ness, the patience, and the uncon<iueral)le fortitude
that animated their unfortunate victim; and it tended
in no small degree to hasten that cata-itrojjhe which
all this studied severity was intended to avert. 'Ihe
Scottish parliament on the llth of June sent an ad-
dress to the king; wherein, after ctjinmending his
majesty in their usual manner for his immeasurable
gifts of prudence, courage, and conduct, and loading
Arg)le, whom they style an hereditary trait<jr, witli
every species of abuse, and with every crime, par-
ticularly that of ingratitude for the favours which he
had received, as well from his majesty as from his
predecessor, they implore his maje>ty to show him
no favour, and that his family, the heritors, the
preachers. Sec, who have joined him, may f^r ever
be declared incapable of mercy, or of bearing any
honour or estate in the kingdom, and all subjects
discharged under the pains of treason, to intercede for
them in any manner of way. Accordingly, the fol-
lowing letter, with the royal signature, and counter-
signed by Lord Milford, secretar\' of state for Scot-
land, was despatched to the council at Edinburgh,
and by them entered and registered on the 29th of
June. "Whereas, the late Karl of Argyle is, l»y th.e
providence of God, fallen into our power, it is our
will and pleasure that you take a// t^'avs to knov.-
from him those things which concern our govern-
ment most; as, his assisters with men, amis, and
money, — his associates and correspondents, — his de-
signs, &c. ; but this must be done so as no time may
be lost in bringing him to condign jninishment. In-
causing him to be denounced as a traitor within the
sjxace of three days after this shall come to your
hantls, an account of which, with what he shall con-
fess, ycHi shall send immediately to our secretaries,
(ov which this shall be your warrant." James, who.
while he was viceroy in Scotland, attended the in-
Ibction of torture upon the unhappy victims of hi,
tyranny, and freejuently called for another touch,
watching, at the same time, the unhappy victim wit'.i
the eager curiosity (jf a philosophical exjjerimenicr.
evidently, by this letter, intended that it shouM b.av-
been applie<l to .\igyle. "It is our will and pka-uro
that you take all ways to know from him." A:c.. seen-
])ositively to enjoin it; and when we rellect tbnt
torture was at the time in connnon r.-e, a:i<l tli.t
the men to whom this order was addies-^ed were ;n
the habit of jiractising it. we might n!ino-t -.'.y :i :-
somewhat of a nn>tery h.Av he oca] ei it. Ci rM.u
it is. however, that he did cscai^e it, 1 v.t !"W w .]':.
m all ]iro!>ahility, ne\er be kii^wn. Ti;.-;! he '.A
not escape it l)y any undue (iiselo^iire^. i> eor.: .^y
certain. That they iiad receive! >-.;J.i '-r:,!- !.ev.,-,-
told. and of their reatiiiu^s !>■ '>]•:■) ;i-.e:n lie ! r.d !• >
many pri)ot'>; \et. when eNr.ni;:'.e ; '.n ir.\ate iy
(^>ueen-.i)err\-. lie ga\e no inuinii.it; 'H w::]i resieL:
to hi> a->oci.ite- ill LnL;!.:iid: he a:>o dinie^l :l.at l.j

j had concerted hi- de-ign wKh ar.

I lairl; but he avowe 1 1' 'M!v. an

I frankness that l:i- !io--- ..;' -u.

I on the cruelty of the aJ:n ::'.r;:.'.l'.

■ I er-o!.^ ni >e".-
[ w;-,li tile iit:r.'-t
-■--= Were fjin-.iied
ill, aivi ^l;eh a dis-

286

ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL-

SIR ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL

position in the people to revolt as he conceived to
be the natural consequence of oppression. He
owned, at the same time, that he had laid too
much weight upon this principle. Writing also
to a friend, just before his examination, he has these
words: "What may have been discovered from any
paper that may have been taken, he knows not.
Otherwise, he has named none to their disadvan-
tage." Perhaps it was to atone for their neglect
with regard to the torture, that the council onlered
his execution on the very next day, although they
had three to choose upon; and, to make the triumph
of injustice complete, it was ordered upon the in-
iquitous sentence of 1682. The warning was short,
but it must have been, in some degree, anticipated;
and he received it with the most perfect composure.
He possessed a faith full of assurance that triumphed
over all his afflictions, and a hope that breathed im-
mortality.

The morning of his execution was spent in religious
exercises and in writing short notices to friends. He
had his dinner before he left the castle, at the usual
hour, at which he discoursed with those that were
along with Mr. Ciiartcris and others with cheerful
and becoming gravity. After dinner he retired, as
was his custom, to his bedchamber, where it is re-
corded he slept quietly for about a quarter of an
hour. While he was in bed one of the members of
the council came and wished to speak with him.
Being told that the earl was asleep, and had left
orders not to be disturbed, he seemed to think that
it was only a shift to avoid further questionings, and
the door being thrown open, he beheld, in a sweet
and tranquil slumber, the man who, by the doom of
himself and his fellows, was to die within the space
of two short hours. Struck with the sight, he left
the castle with tlie utmost j^recipitalion, and entering
the house of a friend that lived near by, threw him-
self on tlie first bed that presented itself. His friend
naturally concluding that he was ill, offered him
some wine, which he refused, saying, "No, no, that
will not help me; I have been at Argyle, and saw
him sleeping as pleasantly as ever man did, but as
for me — ." The name of the person to whom this
anecdote relates is not mentioned, but Wodrow says
he had it from the most unquestionable authority.
After his short repose Argyle was brougiit to the high
council-house, from which is dated the letter to his
wife, and thence to the place of execution. On the
scaflbld he discoursed with Mr. Annand, a minister
a])])ointed by the government to attend him, and
with Mr. Charteris, both of whom he desired to ])ray
for him. He tiien prayed himself witli great fervency.
The speech which he made was everyway worthy of
his character — fidl off)rlilude, mildness, and cliarity.
He offered his jirayers to God for the three kingdoms
of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and that an end
might be si)eeflily jnit to their ])resent trials. Hav-
ing then aiked pardon for his own failings, both of
God and man, he would have concluded, l)Ut Ifcing
reminded that he had said nothing of the royal
family, he prayed that there never might be wanting
one in it to support the Protestant religion; and if
any of them had swerved from the true fai'.li, hi;
]irayed that God might turn their hearts, but at any
rate to save his people from their machinations.
Turning round, he said, "Gentlemen, 1 i)ray you do
not miaconstruct my behavicnir this day. I freely
forgive all men their wrongs and injuries done against
me, as I desire to be forgiven of Ciod." Mr. Aimand
said, "This gentleman dies a Protestant;" when he
stepped forward and said, "I die not only a Protes-
tant, but with a heart-hatred of Popery, I'relacy, and
all superstition whatsomcver." He then embraced

his friends, gave some tokens of remembrance to his
son-in-law. Lord Maitland, for his daughter and
grandchildren, stripped himself of part of his ap-
parel, of which he likewise made presents, and lay-
ing his head upon the block, repeated thrice, "Lord
Jesus, receive my spirit,'' when he gave the signal,
and his head was severed from his body. Thus died
Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argjle, on the 30th of
June, 1685, of whom it has been said, "Let him be
weighed never so scrupulously, and in the nicest
scales, he will not be found in a single instance want-
ing in the charity of a Christian, the firmness and
benevolence of a patriot, nor the integrity and fidelity
of a man of honour."

CAMPBELL, Sir Archibald, Bart., G.C.lx,
&c., was a son of Archibald Campbell, lieutenant in
the army, by his \\-ife, Margaret, daughter of Captain
James Small. Having taken up the military pro-
fession like a family inheritance, Archibald entered
the army in 1787, with the rank of ensign, in con-
sequence of having raised twenty recruits for the
service. Early in the following year he embarked
with his regiment, the 77th, for India, and was em-
ployed in active service in the successful campaign
against Tippoo Snltaun, and upon the coast of
Malabar in 1790. In the following year he rose to
the rank of lieutenant and adjutant, and served in
the campaigns of the Mysore, and the first siege of
Seringapatam. In 1795 he accompanied his regi-
ment in the reduction of the Dutch garrison of
Cochin and its dependencies on the coast of Malabar;
and in 1796 he was employed in the successful enter-
prise that reduced the island of Ceylon. After
various changes connected with these leading events
in our Indian warfare, he served as major of brigade
to the European brigade of the Bombay army in
1799, and was present at the battle of Saduceer
and the capture of Seringapatam. Having procured
during this year, by purchase, the rank of captain
in the 67th regiment, he exchanged into the 88th,
that he might continue upon foreign service, as the
last- mentioned corps had just arrived in India; but
he was disappointed in his purpose by ill health,
which compelled him, in 1801, to return home.

After having been employed in England chiefly
in the recruiting service, and upon the staff of the
southern district as major of brigade, he was subse-
quently appointed major in tlie 6th battalion of re-
serve, and was stationed in Guernsey till 1805, when
he joined the 71st regiment, with which he continued
in Scotland and Ireland until 1808: he then joined
the 1st battalion on its embarkation for Portugal.
Here Major Cam]ibell saw service such as he had
not witnessed in India, having been present in the
l)attles of Kolica and \'inieira, as well as in the dis-
astrous cani])aign in Spain iiiuler Sir John Moore,
and the battle of Corunna. In Eebruary, 1809, lit-
was ])romoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and
ai^pointed to assist Marshal Peresford in organizing
and disciplining the Portuguese army. This was a
service in which Colonel Cam]ibell was associated
with some of the best officers of the Pritish army,
and the ^'alue of their endeavours was well attested
by the high state of efficiency to which the Portuguese
soldiers were brought, ancl the important aid they
rendered daring the Peninsular war. In this auxiliary
army (Aampbcll rose to the rank of full colonel, and
in iSii to that of brigadier-general, and was j)rcscnt
at the battles of Pusaco, Albuera, \'iltoria, the
I'yrenees, the Nivelle, an.d the Nive, and several
sieges, es]iecially that of Paclajoz. After having tliuv
l)assed through the brunt of the war in the Peninsula
and south of France, he was appointed to the rank

SIR ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL

COLIN CAMPBELL.

287

of major-general by llie Prince Regent of Portugal
in 1813, ami to the command of the Lisbon division
of the Portuguese army in 1816. In this capacity he
continued till 1820, when the revolution of Portugal
restored him to the service of his own country, lie
had offered, as soon as the insurrectionary movement
commenced, and during the absence of .Marshal
Bercsford, to march with his division and quell the
rising at Oporto; but in conseijuence of the refusal
of'tiie regency, he gave in his resignation and returned
to England.

General Campl>ell, now a well-tried and war-
worn veteran, might, like many of his brethren of
the Peninsular campaigns, have fought over his
Indian and European battles at a ]ieaceful fireside at
home, and "showed how fields were won" to the
rising generation whom their country was about to
summon into action. But the best and most im-
portant part of his military career was still to come,
and in India, where he had first learned the profes-
sion of arms. Not long after his return to England,
he joined the 38th regiment, of which he was ap-
pointed colonel, at tlie Cape, and proceeded with it
to India, whither it had been ordered. On arriving
in India he was stationed at Berhampore, but was
soon appointed by Sir E. Paget to take tlie com-
mand of the expedition fitted out against the Burmese.
Of all the many nations of India, these peojile were
reckoned among the bravest and most formidable;
and their valour had already been shown in several
severe repulses which tiiey had given to the British
troops Willi whom they had but lately come in
contact. Tiie great aim of the expedition which
(jeneral Campl)ell commanded was to take pos-
session of Rangoon, tiie chief seaport of Bunnah;
and for this cpiarter he set sail, and anchored within
the bar olT the town on the loth of May, 1823.
The landing and capture of Rangoon were effected
in twenty minutes with scarcely any resistance. A
defensive war of stockades on the part of the Burmese
followed, whicli they maintained with mucii spirit,
and occasionally with success, until the close of the
year, when tliey were emboldened to abaiulon their
guerilla warfare, for which their country was highly
iavourable, for the precarious ciiances of a battle.
They accordingly assembled a large army of between
50,000 and 60,000 strong, with 300 pieces of cannon,
and came down upon the British, who did not exceed
6000. This v.-as wiiat Campbell desired; the enemy
were now Ijcfore him in a fair field, instead of being
entrenched behind stockades, or in the jungle, where
they could nni be reached except at great disadvan-
tage. He >aw at once tliat their wings were too fiir
asunder, and lie resolved to encounter tliem separately
and in quick succession. His plan was effectual;
the enemy thus attacked were defeated in detail, and
so comjdetely, ihal they tied in wikl disorder, leav-
ing ijehiiid lliem their artillery and throwing awav
their muskets. ( )n the fullowing day this crowd of
fugitives w:i> raliicd, and incfiqiiirated with a new
I'.urniese army th.U advanced to the scene of action;
I>',u Cami)l)L-ll deU-ated them in a second encnniter
th.it was a> -uccc—ful as t!ie hr.-t. In these two en-
gagements the I!i;niie>e -ii-;aiiiod a hwsof more than
5000 men, while lli.U <>{ liie l'iriti,~li was onlv 30
killed and 230 w.iun<icd. L'ndi-.niayed, however, t)v
sucli di^a-tcr-, tlio enemy rallied I'ov a third attempt,
and this tune were entrenchel to tlie niunher of
20,000 bjjiin 1 a >trnng -;.itk,vle. Here they were
attacked liy CienL-ral C,i;'.iiihcil. and r uitedwith ^uch
slaughter, that tlie war. f )r t!ie time at lea-t. was
terminated l)y tlie sui);!ii--i>n of IJunnnh and the
occupation of Ran,;iiiin. ke'.vi.t dur Indian cam-
paigns were more glorious, if we take into account

the obstacles whicli Campbell had to overcome, the
smallncss of his force as compared with that of the
enemy, and the three decisive victories which he
gained in such rapid succession. A full sense of his
merit was manifested both in India and at home by
the thanks of the governor-general in council and the
two houses of the British Parliament, while the
court of l-iast India director^ vfite<l him a gold
medal and a pension of /'looo ])er annum for life as
the reward of his imj)ortant .services.

At the close of the Burmese war Oeneral Campl)ell
was appointed commander of the forces in the pro-
vinces on the coast of Tena^serim, which the enemy
had ceded, and civil commis>,ioner in the ("omjiany's
affairs in relation to the kingdoms of Burmah and
.Siam. But tlie fatigues of the camjiaign had si>
permanently affected his health, that he was com-
pelled to resign his command and return to England
in 1829. In the spring of 1831 he was app<jinted
lieutenant-governor of New Brunswick, and in this
province he continued nearly six years, conducting
tlie administration of its affairs not only to the satis-
faction of the home government, but that of th(
colonists. In 1839 he was offered the appointment
of commander-in-chief in Bombay, which he acceptefl.
such an office being, of all others, the most congenial
to his wishes; but almost immediately after, a fresh
attack of ill health obliged him to resign it. Afier
a few years of retirement from active life, which the
increasing infirmities of old age rendered necessar)-,
he died at Edinburgh on the 6th of October, 1843.

The value of Sir .-\rchibald Campbell's militr.n.-
services, and especially those in India, were justly
and gratefully appreciated. Besides his merited rise
in the service, which went steadily onward, he was
invested with the Portuguese order of the Tower and
.Sword in 1813; knighted by the prince-regent, and
a]ipointed aide-de-camp to his royal highness in
1814; ajipointed a Knight Commander of the Bath in
1S15, and O.C.B. in 1827; and in 1S31 created a
baronet of the United Kingdom. He was also, at
various times, presented with the free<lom of the
cities of Perth, Straljane, and Cork, .'^ir Arcliibald
Campbell married Miss Helen Macdonalil of Garth.
Perthshire, by w liMiii he had two ^uns and three
daughters.

CAJVIPBELL. Cni.iN (I.nrd Cly^Iek Thisgallant
sohlier and skilful leader, who otaldished for him-
self so high a reinitation in our recerit wars in thr
Crimea ami India, was born in (ilasgow, October
20, 1792. His origin was .-ufikiently humble, hi^
father, Ji^lin M'l.ivcr. a nati\e of Mull, being nothing
more than a working cabinet-maker in tliat city.
While he thus had only a meclianic f >r his lather, i;
was f(;rtiinate for Cdlin th.at his mother was of 7'
better grade; her maiden name was Camjibell. aiT:
she was the daugliter of a >mall jirn; rieior in tlu
i.-land of Klay. She had al-o -i-ter- in g", .d circani-
stances living in (ila-g.nv, win a-~i-tcd in j r 'L.ir.r.g
a >uitalile educalinn for tlie hili
tile higli-school of (ila-gow, and aftcrua
military acadeniv in Go>]Mirt. Tlii- ail';
military life as lii> ])rori.--si(in 1 'V yo;:v.g (.
iiitluenced bv the counsel and ni^i ot !;>
brother, an officer in the ai'niy. wIm i!i tlu' .
of 170^ 04 hid o!)tained i!;e fav-'ar:::'..- !'.■ :
DukJof York. These wci-e cai^cs s-f:, j-
adojitioii of tlie maternal name, ! v v.l.i
M "Liver was transf .rnied iiit' > ( ■ -'.::\ C aiaj :
this change of name had r.o vlVcLt i-.;-';)
gratituiie; and ha\::i:,' !■ '-: ii> ir..''!r.r ivi i.:.r
continual, when he !":canie a!i o!;;ccr. ;-> si:
fithcr out of hi? s^antv ;nv u:;;il th-j latter

hero. i;,>: c:

28S

COLTN CAMPBELL.

Having finished his military educational Gosport,
and shown his eligibility for a commission, Colin
Campbell was gazetted as ensign in the 9th (or East
Norfolk) regiment of foot, in the summer of 180S,
when he had reached the age of sixteen, and his
commencement of the hardships of a military uniform.
Old men can still remember the visions of their
youthful wonderment when soldiers paraded before
them so buckramed, so stiffened and pipe-clayed,
that it seemed impossible they could either march or
fight; and of these gratuitous difficulties of the Prus-
sian school our young ensign was wont in after-years
to make many a humorous complaint. Before his
excoriated limbs, however, had lost their epidermis,
and got the new enduring skin of tlie soldier, he was
sent out on foreign service, and was ]:)resent at the
battle of Vimcira, where for the first time he stood
undjr fire. lie then followed the disastrous fortunes
of tlie army of Sir John Moore both in its advance
and retreat, until the campaign was finished by the
battle of Comnna; but scarcely had he landed in
England, when he was sent off, in iSog, upon the
still more disastrous expedition to ^Vaiclleren. In
this fatal enterprise, after enduring his full share of
service and privations, he was struck down by the
Walcheren fever; and although cured, the disease
was so deeply seated in his system, that until he went
to China, thirty years afterwards, it never failed to
make yearly its ])eriodic return. "Walcheren," he
was wont to say, "was with me every season."
Notiiing but a constitution of iron could have sur-
vived such inflictions, and nothing but an equally in-
domitable will and devoted love of his profession
have retained him in the service.

After this furnace of Walcheren had seasoned those
whom it failed to destroy, Campbell in 1810 re-
turned with his regiment to Spain, under better
auspices than those of the Corunna campaign, and
was present in most of the great actions that distin-
guished the Peninsular war. lie shared in the
battle of Barossa in Marcli, 1811, and the defence of
Tarifi on January 5th, 1812, and during the same
year lie was traiisferretl to a corps of the Si)anish
army under General Ballasteros, with which he was
present in several battles and skirmishes which our
JJritisli historians have not recorded, or only passed
ligluly over. Among these was the expedition for
the relief of Tarragona, which was a disastrous
failure, and the affair for relieving the posts in the
valley of .Malaga. In 1S13 he rejoined the army of
the iJukenf Wellington, and accompanied it through
all the trying actions of that memorable year, dis-
tinguiahiiig himself at everyopportunity by his ardent
courage, and establishing a high character throughout
the army, by his resulution and dee<ls of active
daring. Tiirough the fire of Viltoria, which he en-
tered with his W(jnted intre]>idity, he passed un-
scathed, but was not so fortunate at the siege of .San
Sel)astian, for in leading a for!(jrn hope to the aid of
the neglected stormers, he received in this ])trilnus
service two .severe wounds. At the ]iassage of the
Bidassoa he was again severely wounde<l by a musket
shot, which parsed through his right thigh. In the
meantime his jjromotion had been going on, although
slowly, and in a measure inadequate to his services.
During the first year of his military career he had
risen in the rank of lieutenant, and in 1813 lie became
a cajjtain by brevet, in which rank he remained ten
long years. Having neither fortune, nor family, nor
political interest to promote his advancement, Iiewa>
obliged to depend solely uijon his merits, ailliougli
the-e were so slow in obtaining recognition. Early
in 1S14 he was transferred to the 60th rillc reginieni,
iu which he served in the American war of that

period, and was present in the battles of Bladensburg
and New Orleans. Some years later he was sent to
the West Indies, where' he discharged the duties of
brigade-major, and while he was very active in
quelling the slave insurrection in Demerara he sus-
tained a fresh return of the Walcheren fever, which
still lurked in his constitution, and now broke out
with somewhat of its former virulence. After this
period, Britain being in a state of profound peace.
Major Campbell was employed in an ingloridus
service, which was, to protect by military force the
ejections and sales for the recovery of tithes in
Ireland. He often spoke afterwards of this part of
military duty as the most revolting of all in which
he had been employed.

After some years had been thus spent in Ireland
and elsewhere, in services which history does not
condescend to notice, Colin Camjibell, with the rank
of lieutenant-colonel, to which he had been appointed
ten years earlier, was sent out to China in 1842, in
command of the 98th regiment, and during this
short Chinese war took an active part in the cai^ture
of Chin-kiang-fou, and the subsequent operations of
our forces near Nankin. When this war had termi-
nated, he was sent onward with his regiment to India,
China being but a stepping-stone in its destination;
and in India Colonel Campbell had little active
employment, until the breaking out of the Sikh war
in 1848. It was an occasion to test the military ex-
perience of Campbell accpiired in long service and
important action, especially in the Peninsula; and
as, in consequence of seniority, he commanded the
third division of the army of the Punjab, his worth
was more likely to be seen and appreciated. Through
all the difficulties of this trying campaign, conducted
by the British against the most formidable enemy
they had yet encountered in India, the effective ser-
vices of Campbell, now serving as brigadier-general
under Lord Gough, were conspicuous. This was
especially the case at the battle of Ramnaygur, the
])assage of the Chenab, the affair of Sadoolapore,
and the decisive conflict of Chillianwallah, at which
he was wounded, in directing a most oj^portunc
movement by wliich the British army was probably
saved from destruction. Such Mas tlie testimony cjf
the Duke of Wellington, \\ho declared that the 6ist
regiment, which was imder the ieacliiig of General
Campbell, had performed in this battle one of the
most brilliant exploits that had ever signali/.ed a
British regiment. At the battle of Goojerat, also,
his wortli as a skilfiil leader was so efficient, that he
was created a K.C.B., and received the thanks of
]iarliameiit and of the East India Comj)any. After
the suppression of the Sikhs, and the arrival of Sir
Charles Najiier in India as commander-in-chief,
Cain])l)ell served under that distinguished warrior as
l)rigadier-general, and in 1 85 1 and the following year,
while commander of the Peslmwur district, he was
enqiioyed in constant operations against the hill
tribes, whom he defeated and reduced to subjection.
.\niong these, his princii)al expedition was against
the Ootmankljail and Ranazai tribes, whom, with
3000 bayonets, he comi^letely defeated at Isakote,
akiiougii they were 8000 strong. He was thus
ra])i(lly acfpiiring a military rc])utation only second
to that of Napier himself, when his Indian services
{■>T the time were brtnight abruptly to a close. The
o]icrations in India at this ])eriod were subject to tlie
interference of the jiolitical agents of the governor-
general, who were too prone to dictate the mode in
which a caiii])aign should be carried out, as well as
tlie terms of ])eace should it ]irovc successfiil; and
thus a commander found his movements hampered,
and his authority over the troops controlled by a

COLIN CAMPBELL.

2S9

civilian. Sir Colin Campbell would not permit the
dictation of such men, who perhaps knew little or
nothing of war; and who, in the event of success,
might arrogate the whole glory to themselves, and
in failures throw the whole blame upon the com-
mander; and, finding that his remonstrances on the
subject were ineffectual with the governor-general,
he resigned his command, and returned to England
in the summer of 1853. At his return he was
nothing more than colonel, for his rank in India as
brigadier-general had been only temporary. Thus
slowly had his promotion gone on, notwithstanding
forty-six years of active service, his brilliant deeds,
his sufferings and wounds, and when he had reached
his sixty-second year, at which time the fire and
energy of life, especially in a war-worn soldier, is
generally well-nigh exhausted. But as yet his career
had but commenced, and his long endurance was to
be crowned with success at last. Although thus
late, a reward awaited him that might well compensate
for such a wearying delay, and the scanty measure
in which his services had been requited.

Sir Colin remained unattached for some months
until the war with Russia broke out in 1854, when
he was appointed to the command of the Highland
brigade that was to serve in the Crimea. It was a
happy appointment by which Highlanders were to
be commanded by a Highlander — by one who com-
bined with their native fire and daring an amount
of military experience and skill that could turn their
soUlierly qualities to the best account. This the
soldiers of the brigade felt ; and they obeyed Sir Colin
not merely as their general, but also as their patri-
archal chief: they were ready to follow him to the
death, or to die in his defence. The first of the
Crimean battles in which Sir Colin signalized him-
self, was that of the Alma. On this occasion he was
a conspicuous figure to friend and enemy as he rushed
up with his battalion to the aid of the light divi-
sion on the heights of the .'Mnia; his repeated attacks
ui)on the Russian masses were skilfully and success-
fully delivered; anil at the critical moment, when the
conllict seemed to bedoubtful, he electrified his troops
with new life by the short, pithy saying, "Higii-
landers never retire." Wherever they attacked, tlie
Russian squares were broken and put to the rout; and
in the despatches which Lord Raglan transmitted to
the secretary of war of the battle of the Alma, the
conduct of Major-general Sir Colin Campbell, with
that of other distinguished personages, was recom-
mended to particular notice. At Balaklava .Sir Colin
won additional distinction. His post on this occa-
sion was to protect the earthworks that had been
thrown up for the defence of the British portion of
the allied encampment, and for this purjiose he was
stationed at the entrance of the valley with the
93'i Highlanders. About 3000 Turkish irregulars,
chiclly Tunisians, were added to this small force;
but they were an aid upon which no dependence
coukl be placed. This key to the British position
was so inadequately secured, in consequence of the
necessity of occu])ying the whole valley. I'.ncour-
aged by this circumstance, th.e Russians, on the 25th
ol October, issued out of .Sebastopol, in the hope of
carrying the British encampment by storm. In their
advance they easily dislodgeil the Turks from three
redoubts which they occupied, and, following up their
success, would soon have been in the midst of our
camp, but for the vigilance and courage of .*sir Colin.
He ordered the Qjd Highlanders to draw up in line
two deep in front of the road leading to .Sel).asto])o|,
to oppose a charge of heavy Russian cavalry. The
enemy saw this extended but slender thread of de-
fence, a "thin red streak topped with a line of steel,"'

VOL. I.

and thinking they could break through it as if it were
a cobweb, a body of about 1500 Russian horse came
down upon it with loosened rein. Calmly .Sir Colin
ordered the regiment to "prepare to receive cavalrj',"
and with equal coolness the order was olx'yed. The
coming attack was checked for a moment by a volley
of musketry from the 93d at the distance of 600 yards,
which, however, did little execution. On came the
Russian cavalry again with d<juble confidence, but
not with equal fortune, for, when within about 150
yards, another volley met them with such effect, that
they broke their ranks and took to flight. The
courage manifested in such an arrangement of Sir
Colin, and the success that crowned it, excited the
admiration of the army; and when, after the battle.
Lord Raglan expressed his admiration of the former
receiving a cavalry charge with so thin a line, the
other replied, "I did not think it worth while to
form them four deep."

During the remainder of the Crimean war Sir
Colin Campbell took part in its proceedings, with
the exception of a short period during which he
visited England. The value of his services during
the Russian campaign was so justly appreciated, that
honours and promotions flowed upon him in full tide.
In 1854 he had been gazetted a major-general. In
October of the same year he was appointed colonel
of the 67th regiment. In 1S56 he was promoted
to the rank of lieutenant-general, and during the same
year created a D.C.L. by the university of Oxford.
In addition to these, he had conferred upon him the
Grand Cross of the Bath, the French Order of the
Legion of Honour, the Sardinian Order of Saint
Maurice and Saint Lazarus, and the Turkish Order
of the Medjidie, 1st class, with a medal; the Crimean
medal with clasjis for Alma, Balaklava, and .Sebas-
topol, and the war medal with five clasps, and was
made military aide-de-camp to the queen. Nor were
civic honours wanting, among other distinctions, to
indicate the popular sense of his worth. He was
presented with the freedom of the city of London;
and a splendid sword of the value of 2S0 guineas
was conl'erred upon him by the citizens of Glasgow,
who were now proud of the fame of their fellow-
townsman.

It might have been thought that tlie war-worn
veteran liad by this time earned a right to repose,
and that any further task awaiting him would only
be to figlit all his battles oV-r again in description
amidst the festive society of his friends, or over the
comforts of his fireside. lUit scarcely had he begun
to rest after the excitement of the Crimean war, wlien
a still more inqiortant event summoned him once
more into the field. It was the terrible Indian
mutiny of 1857, by which the loss of our empire in
the East was regaidetl as all but certain. The natives
of its many kingdoms had broke out iiUi) njien w-
hellion; the sep<.)ys, whom we had trained to w.ir.
had bandet! themselves against their instruct<irs; an<!
while (_ienei-al Anson, the commander of the Briti-h
Airces in tlie East, had sunk and died u!i<ii.r difii-
culties too great for him to suniioiin!, cur lii'iMU
generals, witii their armies reduced to coinpar.;c~.
were evervwhere making head against the u'l.viis,.!
tide, anil attempting with scanty mc.-iiis to -r.ij.res-,
or at least to hold in check, the ovcrwlxhiiiiig nia-se,
of the insurgents. In this ditViculty .ill im- at hitr.c
wereturned upon Sir Culin CaiiijbcII: ii \\.'-- lilt tha"
he and he alone was adequate tor ^r.cl; air>!- : ar.^: tl.i-
satisfaction was universal tluu hailed hi- a; ; .'iKtmcn',
by our government to be coinmandi.r-in-il;iit ot the
British armies in India. He rcad.ly re-;- 'a^ied to tlii-
new call of duty, and in les- than tweuiy-tua.r h.or.rs
after his apnoin'tnient he Lad kl'i London on hi- way

19

290

COLIN CAMPBELL.

to the East. Travelling by express, he was in time
for the Indian mail at Marseilles, and arrived in
Calcutta on the 29th of August, only thirty-one days
after he had left London, so that he was the first
to bring the tidings of his own appointment and
arrival.

The great interest of the Indian war had now
concentrated around Lucknow. That important
city was in possession of the rebels, while a small
military force of British soldiers, with a crowd of
civilians, women and children, had taken refuge
within the residency, which the rebels had closely
invested, and would soon have reduced, but for the
opportune arrival of General Havelock, who, after
a series of victories scarcely paralleled in Indian
warfare, had broke through Lucknow, and entered
the residency. But this diversion, instead of raising
the siege, was only sufticient to reinforce the all but
overpowered garrison, and protract the resistance of
the residency under the able superintendence of
Outram and Havelock, who the wliile were cheered
by the arrival of Sir Colin in India, and the prospect
of his coming to their relief This, however, could
not be done without the arrival of reinforcements
from England, so that it was not until the 12th of
November that he could set out upon this critical
enterprise. It was one that demanded consummate
judgment; for a single false step or disaster in the
attempt would have fearfully imperilled the loss of
our only Indian army, and our hold of India.
.Setting out from Cawnpore, where he had concen-
trated his forces, he advanced upon the Alumbagh,
an isolated building with grounds and inclosures,
about three miles from the residency to the south-
cast of Lucknow, which Havelock had captured and
garrisoned in his approach to the city. He reached
the Alumbagh in the evening after a sharp attack of
the rebels upon his vanguard, in which they were
routed with the loss of their guns; after which the
i[uestion was to be settled how he should reach the
residency and raise the siege.

This was a question of no small difficulty, con-
sidering the smallness of his force, and the necessity
of preserving it unbroken for the further necessities
of the campaign. Lucknow, also, a city of great
extent, was held by a numerous army of rebels, who
occupied the whole of it, while every street was
defended, and every h(juse looph(jled and converted
into a fortress, so that to apjiroach the residency
by the direct road througli the city, would have been
to march through a fire in which half of his army
would have been swept away. .Sir Colin wisely
resolved to adopt a more circuitous but safer route,
by making a detour to the right, forcing his way
through the jjark of tlie ancient Dilkoosha palace,
and thr(nigh tlie Martinierc, an establishment for the
i;ilucation of Luro])eans and half-castcs, cn^ssing the
canal on the cast side of Lucknow, and then reach-
ing the residency by a deflection rrjund the north-
east corner of the city. Tiiis ])lan, the perfection of
caution, was executed in all its jiaits with not less
courage and daring. Ordering iii^ soMicrs to march
v.-ithout baggage, and witii three days' ])rovision in
their haversacks, and reinforcing his tro(i])s by fresh
companies from the garrison at the .Aiuniliagh, and
leaving there instead of- them tlie 75tii regiment,
tliat had l^een exhausted by its previous exertions,
he commenced his route for the residency on tlie
14th of November, and advanced upon Hiikoo-ha.
.\s soon as they reached the park, they were met by
a heavy fire and desperate resistance from the rebels;
but, after a fight of two hours, the British drove them
first from the Dilkoosha park, and then from the
Martiniere, and pursued them across the canal.

This was but the first step in the path of difficulty,
and the next was to assail and carry the Secunder
Bagh, a plantation north of the canal, having a high
wall of strong masonry, 120 yards square, occupied
by the rebels in strong force, and loopholed all
round; while only a hundred yards distant was a
village, the houses of which were also loopholed,
and occupied by mutinous sepoys in great numbers.
On the morning of the i6th the British advanced to
the attack; but no sooner had the head of the column
advanced up the lane to the left of the SecunderBagh,
than a quick and heavy fire was opened upon it,
which was continued on both sides for an hour and
a half without intermission. It was at last deter-
mined to carry it by storm through a small breach
that had been made in the wall, and this desperate
service was gallantly performed by the remainder of
the Highlanders, the 53d regiment, the 4th Punjab
infantry, and a battalion of detachments from various
regiments; and the desperate nature of the enemy's
resistance may be estimated by the fact, that more
than 2000 of their slain were found within the walls.
After the storming of the Secunder Bagh, it was
necessary to carry the Shah Nujjeef, a domed mos-
que which the enemy had converted into a strong
fortress by blocking up the entrance to the building
with regular masonry, and piercing the walls with
loopholes, while the defences of the garden were also
filled with soldiers. This formidable position was
stormed after a heavy cannonade of three hours from
the naval brigade conducted by Captain Peel, sup-
ported by the 93d regiment of Highlanders, and a
battalion of detachments under Major Barnston.
However briefly these successes are stated, the
difficulties they presented, and the resistance they
offered, it would not be easy to estimate. The
ground thus won in the onward advance to the resi-
dency was every inch contested with a pertinacity
which Sir Colin, now a gray-haired veteran, and
trained in the wars of the Peninsula, had seldom
witnessed, and he was obliged to bring up the same
men over and over again to fresh attacks before the
sepoys would give way. These sepoys indeed were
rebels who had proved false to their rulers and their
military allegiance, and knowing what they had to
expect if conquered, they fougiit with the despera-
tion of fiends. It was only by the highest kind of
courage and endurance that such resistance could be
overcome; and nobly did this small army of British
soldiers vindicate their established reputali(jn. "The
storming of the Secunder Bagh and the .Shah
Nujjeef," said Campbell in his order of the day,
"has never been surpassed in daring, and the success
of it was most brilliant and com]:iletc." No further
obstacle interposed between the besieged garrison
and their countrymen coining to their aid, except a
mess-house of considerable size defended by a ditch
and a looplioled mud wall; and this was attacked
and stormed on the following day after an hour of
desjierate conflict. And now the communication be-
tween the victorious army and the residency was so
comi)lete, that Outram and Havelock came out to
welcome Sir Colin before the mess-house was carried.
It was a jinnid moment to the latter when he saw
the relief of the garrison accomplished, after so long
a period of agonizing suspense, and so many de-
s]ierate conflicts. W hat would the peojjle in I'^ng-
land say of him after such a wonderful achievement?
Tlie cares of Sir Colin Camiibell, however, were
not ended when he stood as a conqueror within the
walls of the residency. Lucknow was still in the
hands of the rebels, who might at any time return to
tlie attack, and the relief of the garrison could only
be temporary so long as the helpless crowd that

COLIN CAMPBELL.

291

composed so large a portion of it were still immured
in the building. The place must not only be
evacuated, but the women, the children, the sick,
and the wounded removed, and protected upon a
perilous retreat. They must be conveyed away by
easy stages, and sheltered from th6 fire of the
maddened enemy. A retreat of this kind might be
more diftkult and dangerous than the advance itself
had proved. To accomplish such a delicate move-
ment, .Sir Colin opened a vigorous cannonade upon
the Kaiserbagh or king's palace in Lucknow, so that
the rebels in the city might think they were about
to be attacked in earnest, and while their attention
was thus withdrawn, he formed a line of posts on
the left rear of his position sufficiently strong to
resist the enemy's attacks. While the rebels were
thus occupied with the cannonade upon Lucknow,
and preparing to resist an attempt to storm the
city, the ladies, their families, and the invalids were
silently conveyed along the line of posts on the night
of the 22d of November, and after them the garrison,
the retreat being protected by judicious arrangements
of the army — and to close the whole, .Sir Colin him-
self went out with the last line of infantry and guns,
as the body most likely to be attacked, and with
which he intended to crush the enemy if they dared
to follow up his piquets. These precautions were
indeed necessary, as the only line of retreat lay
through a long and crooked line; but, strange to tell,
no interruption was offered: still expecting an attack
on Lucknow, the rebels opened a fire upon the
residency, and continued it for hours after the place
was evacuated. I-ike a well-organized machine,
every part of this retreating army moved according
to appointment, and on the 23d the whole of the
troops and their helpless convoy, comprising about
2000 souls, reached IJilkoosha in safety.

The ultimate destination of this retreat was Cawn-
pore, now in jiossession of the British, and where
the safety of the invalids might in some measure be
secure; but here an unexpected event had occurred
which disturbed Sir Colin's calculations. General
Windham, who occupied its military- cantonments,
had been attacked by an overwhelming force of the
rebels, and driven out of the city into his intrcnch-
ments, where he was closely besieged, and in the
utmost danger. The first intimation which .Sir Colin
received of the danger in his march to Cawnpore,
was from a sound of heavy firing in that direction;
but on continuing his march on the following day,
messenger after messenger came to him with tidings
of Windham's disaster, uyinn which he hastened to
the scene of action. On seeing that Cawnpore was
in possession of the enemy, his first care was for the
woundetl, sick, and non-combatants from the resi-
dency, and these he managed to convey across the
(janges on their way to .Allahabad — a tedious and
dangerous o]ieration which occupied several days,
and was not fully elTecteil until the 3d of December,
lieing thus ligiitened for action, and having com-
pleted his arrangements for an attack, he advanced
on the 6th of Decemlier against the enemy, who were
25,000 strong, and had thirty-six gur.s — and he gave
them such a defeat that they were pursued ncarlv
fourteen miles, leaving bjliind them all their guns
and ammunition.

Afier this the dispositions of ."-^ir Colin fir the
suppression of the rebellion were so judicious, that
at ttie close of the year [i^57J the finril issue could
be no longer doubtful. In the greater jiart of
the country the ISritish ascendency was restored,
and the rebels, iusteail of mustering armies, could
only continue the war in light jiredatory bands,
wliich were cnished as often a^ thev were en-

countered. Sir Colin Camplicll's name was one of
dread to the natives, who trembled at the thought
of his invariable success, and believed him to be
invincible. The great capital and centre of the
rebellion, however, still continued to l)c Lucknow,
and upon this the bands of mutineers were converging
from ever>' quarter, as if a fatality brought them to-
gether that they might be involved in a common
doom.

Nor was that doom long delayed. After repairing
the effects of General Windham's disaster, and estab-
lishing the British authority in Cawnpore, Sir Colin
Campbell made prejxarations for ending the rebellion
by the capture of Lucknow. The troo]js employe<l
over the wide extent of country' in putting down the
rebels were moved to Lucknow as their place of
united action; and on the 2d of March, 1858, the siege
was commenced by the capture of the Lilkoosha pa-
lace. All the fortified places in the suburbs were suc-
cessively attacked, stormed, and occupied, and on the
igtheverything was in readiness foracombined attack
upon the city itself. Here, although the resistance
was terrible, the result could not be doubtful, and in
a short time Lucknow, the queen of Indian cities,
was stormed and given up to plunder, while such of
the rebels as had the good fortune to escape from its
walls, were fleeing in thousands along the neighbour-
ing highways. The punishment of the guilty city,
which had been merited by its crimes, was now com-
plete, as the following short description by an eye-
witness will testify: — "Those stately buildings, which
had never before been entered by Luropean fool
except by a commissioner of Oudh on a state day, were
now open to the common soldier, and to the poorest
camp follower of our army. How their splendours
vanished like snow in sunshine ! The destruction
around one, the shouting, the smashing noises, the
yells of the .Sikhs and natives, were oppressive. 1
was glad to get away just as our mortars began to
thunder away at the enemy's works again. . . .
It was late in the evening when we returned to camp,
through roads thronged with at least 20,000 canqi
followers, all staggering under loads of plunder — the
most extraordinary and indescribaljle spectacle I ever
beheld — Coolies, syces, kitmutgars, dhooly bearers.
.Sikhs, grass-cutters, a flood of men covered w'nh
clothing not their own, carrving on heads and
shoulders looking-glasses, mirrors, pictures, brass-
pots, swords, firelocks, rich shawls, scarfs, ein-
liroidered dresses, all the 'loot' of ransacked palaces.
The noise, the dust, the shouting, the excitement were
almost beyond endurance. Lucknow was borne
away piecemeal to ca;np, and the wild Ghoorkas
and .Sikhs, with open mouths and glaring eyes, burn-
ing with haste to get rich, were contending fiercely
against the current as they sought to get to the
sources of such unexpected wealth.'

After the fall of Lucknow little more remained to
be done except to tread down and extinguisli the
smouldering eml)crs of relK-llion, lest they sluaild
rekindle a new flame, and to this task Sir Colin ad-
dressed himself with his wonted resolution .in<l per-
severance. He therefore again took the tielii "U tlie
2d of Novenil)er for a winter campaign, and ad\ aiiced
against a jungle fort lying midway between the rivers
tiogra and .Sye, and occupied by an ( luiih eiiiet oi
great ]iower and resources; but in-tead I'l re-i>tiiig.
the chief yielded his f..nre- at the lir-t sumni-r.- lo
surrender.' On the I2th Sir C.iliii niarche'i to
.Sluinkerjiore. where there wa^ aii.ither jungle fort
held by an Oudh chiet". liainie Mii.!ho.>. who .eenie<l
disposed to iry the fortune of war; lu;-. on the j'laee
being invested, he stole out at midniglit with ail his
troops, and escaped beyond i'u^-ui^ Otlier encoun-

292

COLIN CAMPBELL-

GEORGE CAMPBELL.

ters followed with the rebellious chiefs of the revolted
province of Oudh, and in every instance Campbell
was successful, while the rebels were either compelled
to surrender or save themselves by flight. It was a
campaign so rapidly conducted and successfully fin-
ished, that before the year had ended Sir Colin was
enabled to announce that the last rallying of the
mutiny in Oudh had been suppressed — that "the re-
sistance of 150,000 armed men had been subdued with
a very moderate loss to her majesty's troops, and the
most merciful forbearance towards the misguided
enemy" — that "the last remnant of the mutineers
and insurgents has been hopelessly driven across the
mountains which form the barrier i)etwecn the
kingdom of Nepaul and her majesty's empire of
Hindostan."

These were joyful tidings for Britain, which they
were not long in reaching, and in proportion to the
dread of losing our empire in tiie East, was the exulta-
tion at its entire recovery. It was also felt that al-
though much was owing to those gallant chiefs who
had borne the first brunt of so unequal an encounter,
and whose victories had raised it to a conflict on
equal terms — yet that it was the rare combination
of prudence and valour possessed by Sir Colin Camp-
bell that had turned the scale, restored our Indian
ascendancy, and established our rule in India more
securely than ever. Nor was it long before these
grateful feelings had an appropriate outlet. The
conqueror of Lucknow and the Indian mutiny was,
in .August 16, 1858, created a peer, and as he had
not a foot of land of liis own on which to rest his
designation, he was invested with the title of Baron
Clyde of Clydesdale, from tlie name of the river on
the banks of which he had been born. During the
same year he was jiromoted to the rank of full general.
In 1859 he received the thanks of botli house-, of
parliament, and had a pension of ;i^2000 assigned to
him. In 1861 he was nominated a Knight of tlie
Star of India, and in November, 1862, on the occa-
sion of the Prince of Wales having attained his
majority, he was promoted to the liighest grade of
his profession, that of a field-marshal of the army.
As there was no further work for him to accomplish,
the veteran retired into ])rivate life universally hon-
oured and beloved. His appearance at his final
return from India is thus described in the leading
journal of the day, and the correctness of the sketch
can still speak to the hearts of the living generation:
"In person Lord Clyde was well knit, symmetrical,
and graceful; but of late years his shoulders bjcame
somewhat bowed, though he lost little of the activity
which was remarkable in sc) old a man. To the last his
teeth remained full and firm in the great square jaws,
and his eye pierced the distance witii ail the force of
his youthful vision. His cris|) gray locks still stood
close anfl thick, curling over the head and above the
wrinkled brow, and there were few external signs of
the decay of nature which was, no doubt, going on
within, acceleratefl by so many wounds, such fevers,
such relentless exacting service. When he so willed
it, he could throw into his manner and conversation
such a wondrous charm of simplicity and vivacity
as fascinated those over whom it was exerted, and
women admired and men were delighted witii the
courteous, polished, gallant old soldier." .After al-
luding to his patriotism, his attachment to the duties
of his profession, and his uncom|)laining <levf)tedness
to these through years of tardy jiromotion or lui-
merited neglect, the same writer thus continues the
portraiture of his moral character; —

"Looking at his whfiie career, Lord Clyde was
a remarkable instance of the way in which sterling
qualities of head and heart may win their way even

in the ranks of the British army. We are accustomed
to pride ourselves on the fact that the highest honours
of the two learned professions are open to the attain-
ment of the humblest Englishman; but there is a
prejudice, not perhaps unfounded, that it is otherwise
in the army, and that money or interest, or both, are
essential to high military rank. Yet Lord Clyde
commenced his service as unassisted by wealth or
friends as the most unknown and penniless barrister
or curate. Nor did he owe his ultimate reputation
and success to the opportunity for any very extra-
ordinary services. He rose by the mere force of
sterling ability, complete knowledge of his profession,
sound sense, high honour, and an honest, industrious,
and laborious performance of duty. These qualities,
alone and unaided, made him a field-marshal, a
member of the most distinguished orders in Europe,
and raised him to the English peerage. He had to
wait long — too long, it is true — and often had reason
for just indignation at undeserved neglect; but his
perfect modesty kept him true to his work, and gave
opportunity for his real value to compel his rise.
Perhaps he owed as much to the qualities of his
heart as to tiiose of his head and his will. The
positions he won are hardly open to equal abilities
if marred by an impracticable or ungenerous nature.
But men will rarely refuse to recognize true talent
when its force is softened by modesty, and its claims
made welcome by unselfishness. A merely personal
ambition in Sir Colin Campbell might have met with
the angry repulse of proud or interested feelings.
But his nature was so retiring, and his modesty so
complete, that he excited no personal envy or jealousy.
His rise was felt to be simply the natural recognition
of talents which the country could not spare; and,
at the same time, his entire generosity prevented his
retaining any grudge at past disa])pointments, and
made him always ready to serve others whenever and
wherever he was wanted."

It was when he had thus ended his work and shown
his worth, and when the admiration and gratitude of
his country were at their height, that Lord Clyde
passed away. His decease occurred in August 14,
1863, wh.en he was in the seventy-first year of his
age, and by his death his title became extinct, as he
had never been married. His remains were interred
in Westminster Abbey, not far from the grave in
which .Sir James Outram, his friend and companion
in arms, had recently been buried; and although,
with the unostentatious simplicity that marked his
character, he had wished that his funeral should be
a private one, it was attended by the carriages of the
royal family, and by a long train of distinguished
mourners, the friends and companions of the de-
ceased.

CAMPBELL, I)k. (wcorgk, an eminent theolo-
gical writer, was born on Christmas day, 1719-
His father was the Rev. Colin Campbell, one of
the ministers of Aberdeen, a man whose simplicity
and integrity of character were well known thrcnigh-
out the country, and the cause of his being held in
general esteem. While the theological sentiments
of this res]K'ctal)!e person were ])erfectly orthodox,
his style of ]ireacliing was very peculiar: it no doubt
jjartook of the fashion of tlie times, but he seems
to have also had a singular taste of his own. Dr.
('ami)bell frefjuently s]ioke of his father; and though
his c<jnnection with so excellent a man afforded him
great ])leasurc, he sometimes amused himself and
his friends by rejieating anecdotes respecting the
oddity of his conceits in preaching. He delighted
much in making the heads and particulars of his
discourses begin with the same letter of the alpha-

GEORGE CAMPBELL.

293

bet. Some very curious examples were in the pos-
session of his son, wiiich he related with great good
humour, and which no one enjoyed more than him-
self, lie had followed the fortunes and adhered
to the principles of the Argyle family. He was
therefore a decided Whig, and was very active in
]iromoting, in 1715, among his parishioners, the
cause of tlic Hanoverian succession, and in opposing
the powerful interest of the numerous Tory families
in .\l)erdcen. This worthy man died suddenly, on
the 27th of August, 1728, leaving a widow, with
three sons and tiiree daugiiters. The subject of this
memoir was the youngest of the sons.

The grammar-school of Aberdeen has long main-
tained a high rank among the Scottish seminaries;
and it now enjoyed more than its usual reputation
from tlie connection of Mr. Alexander Malcolm, the
author of by far the most extensive and philosophical
system of arithmetic in the English language, besides
an excellent treatise on music. Such a man pro-
duces a strong sensation wherever the sphere of
liis exertions hapjiens to be, but in a provincial town
like Aberdeen, wiiere almost all the youth are his
pupils, the impression he makes is naturally much
greater. George Campbell, though saiil to have
been a lively and idle, rather than a studious boy,
made a respectable appearance in this school. He
was afterwards enrolled a member of Marischal
College, antl went through the common course. A
senior brother, whose name was Colin, had been
devoted to tlie church, and George therefore pro-
posed to study law. He was bound apprentice to
Mr. Stronach, W..S., Edinburgh, and regularly
served the stipulated time. But he does not seem
to have entered upon this line of life with any ardour.
Before he had finished his apprenticeship, his re-
solutions were fixed for another profession, and in
1 741 he attended the prelections oi^ Professor Goldie,
\vho then held the theological chair in the Edinburgli
university. The celebrated Dr. Blair began about
this time, as minister of the Canongate, to attract
public attention by his discourses; and Cam])bell be-
came a devoted admirer of the style of that great
divine, with whom he, at the same time, formed an
intimate personal friendsiiip.

At the conclusion of his apprenticesliip, Mr. Camp-
bell returned to Aberdeen, and concluded his educa-
tion as a clergyman in the divinity halls of that uni-
versity. His superior intellect was now marked
among his fellows, and he became the leader of a
debating society which was instituted by them in
1742, under the name of the 77itvio:;iLaI Club.
Being licensed in 1746, he soon attracted attention
by his discourses; yet in 1747 he was an unsuccess-
ful candidate for the church of Fordoun, in the
Mearns. When his reputation h.id acquired more
c )n>istency. he was presented to the church of
Banchory Ternan, a few miles from Aberdeen,
under circum-.tancos of a somewhat extraordinary
nature. Neillicr tiic patron nor those who recom-
mended Campbell were aware of his Christian
name. It therefore happened that Colin, his elder
brother, a man of great worth, but comparativelv
slender abilities, was aiijilieil to, and invited to
]ireach at BanclMry, as a ])reliule to his obtaining
the living. Colin"s public exhibitions did not e(]ual
the expectations whicii hail been formed; and, in the
c<iurse of conversation, tlie sagacity of the patron.
Sir .\lexander Burnett, di>covcred that it was his
lirother whose recomnn-ntlations had been so
ample, (leorge Campbell was afterwards invited,
and the satisfaction which he gave insured succc>s,
iox he was onlaineil minister of that pari>h
Jvme 2, 1746. He w.is not long in tliis situa-

tion when he married a young lady of the name of
Farquharson.

Though Mr. Campbell did not, at this early period
of his life, give token of that jxjwer of intense ap-
plication which he manifested in his later years, it
is supposed that he formed, in the solitude of Ban-
chory, the original ideas of all his great works. He
here composed the most important parts of his
I'htlosopliy of Rlidortc. This admirable and truly
classical work, in which the laws c^f elegant com-
position and just criticism are laid down with sin-
gular taste and perspicuity, originally formed a series
of detached essays, and contains, with a few excep-
tions, the outlines of all the works he ever pul)lislied.
At this time also he began his great work, the
Translation of ike Gospels;'^ though it is probable
that he did not make much progress until his pro-
fessional duties directed his attention more forcibly
to the same subject. His character as a country
clergyman was established in a very short time.
The amial)le simplicity of his manners, the integrity
and propriety of his behaviour, conjoined with his
extensive knowledge, and the general esteem in
which he was held by literary men, very soon
brought him into notice. He was consecpiently
induced to relinquish his charge in the country, and
comply with the invitation of the magistrates of
Aberdeen, to take charge of one of tlie quarters
of that city. Here he derived great advantage from
the society of literary men, and the opportunity of
consulting public libraries. Mr. Camjibell joined
the Literary Society of Aberdeen, which had been
formed in the year 1758, and which comprehended
many men afterwards eminent in literature and
philosojihy. The subjects discussed in this associa-
tion were not confined to those coming strictly within
the category of the belles lettres; all the different
branches of philosophy were included in its com-
prehensive range. Campbell took a very active part
in the business of the society, and delivered in it the
greater part of his Philosophy of Rhetoric.

Principal Pollock of Slarischal College died in
1759, and it was supposed at the time that the chance
of succeeding him was confined to two gentlemen
possessed of all the local influence which in such
cases generally insures success. Mr. Camjibell, who
was ambitious of obtaining tlie situation, resolved to
lay his jiretensions before the Duke of Arg}le, who
for many years had dispensed the government
patronage of .Scotland. It happened that one of
Mr. Campbell's ancestors, his grandfather or great-
grandfather, had held the ba-sket into which the
.Marquis of .-Vrgyle's head fell when he was beheaded.
Mr. Campbell hinted at this in the letter he ad-
dresseil to his grace, and the result was his ajiiioint-
ment to the vacant jslace.

Shortly after this Mr. Caiiqibell received the
degree of Doctor of Divinity from King's (.'ollege.
.Aberdeen; and in 1763 he published his celebrated
Treatise on Miracles, in answer to what was .Tdv.inced
on that subject by David Hume; a work which lias
been justly characterized as one ul" the nu'>! acr.ie
and convincing treatises that ha> ever a]'peaied r.pon
the suliject. A condensed view ct tlie rc^I CLtixe

} \Vl,c:i Mr. .-Mex.iiu'.er F
WoodiMusclco pul>li>hcd hi<
Translation, a correspimdcnc
Cimpbcll, in conj-cquoncf ■ t' i
the ideas contained in the /.".:.r,;
acknowledgment from his 7'r.;>
a short time previoiislv. It w
lishcd by Mr. Tytler. that :
reality the result of cnnciienc!
became thoroughly satisfied, :
between the partieSs

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294

GEORGE CAMPBELL.

arguments of these two philosophers, on one of the
most interesting points connected with revealed
religion, is thus given by the ingenious William
Smellie, in the first edition of the Encyclopedia
Bri/annica, 'under the article "Abridgment:" —

Mr. Hume argues, "Tliat experience, which in
some things is variable, in others uniform, is our
o/i/j' guide in reasoning concerning matters of fact.
A variable experience gives rise to probability only;
a uniform experience amounts to a proof Our
belief of any fact from the testimony of eye-witnesses
is derived from no other principle tiian our experi-
ence in the veracity of human testimony. If the
fact attested be miraculous, here arises a contest of
two opposite experiences, or proof against proof
Now, a miracle is a violation of the laws of nature;
and as a firm and unalterable experience has estab-
lished these laws, the proof against a miracle, from
the very nature of the f;ict, is as complete as any
argument from experience can possibly be imagined;
and, if so, it is an undeniable consequence, that it
cannot be surmounted by any proof whatever de-
rived from human testimony.''

Dr. Campbell, in his answer, aims at showing the
fallacy of Mr. Hume's argument by another single
position. He argues, "That the evidence arising
from human testimony is not solely derived from
experience ; on the contrary, testimony hath a
natural influence on belief, antecedent to experience.
The early and unlimited assent given to testimony
by children gradually contracts as they advance in
life: it is therefore more consonant to truth to say
that our diffidence in testimony is the result of ex-
perience, than that our faith in it has this founda-
tion. Besides, the uniformity of experience in
favour of any fact, is not a proof against its being
reversed in a particular instance. The evidence
arising from the single testimony of a man of known
veracity will go far to establish a belief in its liieing
actually reversed: if his testimony be confirmed by a
few others of the same character, we cannot withhold
our assent to the truth of it. Now, though the
operations of nature are governed by uniform laws,
and though we have not the testimony of our senses
in favour of any violation of them, still, if in par-
ticular instances we have the testimony of thousands
of our fellow-creatures, and those, too, men of strict
integrity, swayed by no motives of ambition or in-
terest, and governed by the principles of common
sense, that they were actual eye-witnesses of these
violations, the constitution of our nature obliges us
to believe them."

I)r. Campbell's essay was speedily translated into
the French, Dutch, and Ccrman languages.

The activity and application of Dr. Campbell
received an impulse in 1771, from his Ijeing ap-
pointed professor of divinity in Marischal College, in
place of Dr. Alexander Gerard, who had* removed
to the corresjjonding chair in King's. These two
eminent men had been colleagues, and j^reached
alternately in the same church. They were now
pitted against each other in a higher walk, and there
can be no doubt, that, as the same students attended
botli, a consideral)le degree of emulation was excited
betwixt them. CJerard was j^erfcclly sensible of the
talents of his new rival. His friends had taken the
freedom of hinting to him that he iiad now some
reason to look to his laurels; in answer to which he
remarked carelessly, that Dr. Campbell was indolent.
An unfortunate misunderstanding had existed be-
tween these two excellent men for many years: it
was now widened by the report of Gerard's trivial
remark, which some busy person carried to Dr.
Camiibell's ears, probably in an exaggerated shape.

This circumstance is said, however, to have had the
beneficial effect of stimulating Dr. Campbell's exer-
tions. The manner in which he discharged his
duties was most exemplary; and the specimens which
he has given in his Preliminary Dissertations to the
Translation of the Gospels, in his lectures on ecclesi-
astical history, and on theology, afford abundant
])roofs of his high qualifications as a public lecturer.
It will be at the same time observed, from the list
of his works immediately to be submitted, that the
vacations of his professional labours were most
sedulously employed for the advantage of the public
and posterity.

Dr. Campbell appears to us to have been one of
the most splendidly gifted men that appeared during
the course of the last century. His body was re-
markably feeble; his stature greatly below that of
ordinary men in this country. His health was ex-
tremely delicate, and required for the long period of
threescore years and ten the utmost care and atten-
tion. Yet his powers of application were above
those of most men, and, what is strange, were exem-
plified chiefly in his later and feebler years. He
was a man of tl^e utmost simplicity of manners and
naivete of character, and remarkably pleasant in
conversation. The works Mhich he has published
prove, in the most indisputable manner, that he was
possessed of true philosophical genius. His powers
of abstraction appear to have been greater than those
of most men of ancient or modern times. The study
of languages was employed by him to the best ad-
vantage; and the accuracy of his disquisitions throws
a light upon the nature of the human mind, while it
discovers a habit of attention to the actings of his own
mind, which has certainly not been surpassed by any
of those who have cultivated the science of morals.

As a minister of religion he was no less eminent
than in any other situation which he ever filled. He
was esteemed by his hearers as an excellent lecturer;
but his lectures were perhaps a little superior to his
ordinary sermons. As the head of his college, he
appeared to the greatest advantage — unassuming,
mild, and disposed to show the greatest kindness
and tenderness to those who were his inferiors, both
in regard to rank or to literary reputation. As pro-
fessor of divinity his fame was unrivalled. Many of
his pupils have expressed in the warmest language
the pleasure they derived from his prelections.
There was a peculiar miction in his manner which
charmed every one. He encouraged those whon\
he conceived to be diffident, and ecpially discoun-
tenanced those who ajipeared to him to be forward
or conceited. In church-courts he never aimed at
shining; but he was sometimes roused to great ex-
temporaneous exertion in that field, and it was
remarked that his replies were generally better than
his introductory speeches. He was a zealous ad-
vocate for lil)erty of conscience, and lent all his
influence to his friend Principal Robertson resjiecl-
ing the l'o]iish bill. His preponderance in the town
of Aberdeen was never great in j^ublic questions; anil
indeed he never aimed at such an object : but in private
society he was always esteemed the life of the com-
pany, and never failed to make a strong imi^ression.^

1 The fdllowing is a. list of his writings:— 7'/r<' Clinraitcr
of a Ministi'r as a Teacher and Pattern; Dissertation on
Miracles; Tlic Spirit of tlic Gosfiet ; T/ie l'/iiloso/>/iy of
Klutoric; The Nature, Extent, and Im/>ortanci- of t/te Duty
of Altcgiance; The Success of the First Pul^lishcrs of tho
Cospet, a Proof of its Trutli; Address to tlie People of Scot-
land on t/te Alarms raised by tlie Hill in lun-our of tlic
Roman Cat/wlics; TIte Happy Injlucnce of Religion on CItH
Society; 'Translation of t/te Gospels, with Preliminary Dis-
sertations and K.rplanatory Notes; Lectiireson Ecclesiastical
History; Lectures on T/ieology.

JOHN CAMPBELL.

Dr. Campbell died April 6, 1796, in the seventy-
seventh year of his age.

CAMPBELL, John, Duke of Argyle and (ireen-
wich, a (listinj^uished soldier and statesman, was tiie
son of Arciul)ald, first Duke of Argyle, by Elizalx;th,
daughter of Sir Lionel Talmas of Helmingham, by
Klizabcth.afterwards Duchessof Lauderdale, daughter
of William Murray, Earl of Dysart. His grace was
born October 10, 1678. On the day in which his
grandfatiier Archibald, Earl of Argyle, fell a sacrifice
to the tyranny of James VH. (some say at the very
moment of his execution), the subject of this narrative,
being then in his seventh year, fell from a window in
the third story of the house of Dunybrissel, then pos-
sessed by his aunt, the Countess of Murray, and, to
the astonishment of the whole household, was taken
up without having suffered any material injury — a
circumstance which his relatives and friends con-
sidered as indicating not only future greatness, but
that he was destined to restore the lustre of the house
of Argyle, which at that moment was under a melan-
choly eclipse. The care of his education was con-
fided to a licentiate of the Scottish church named
Walter Campbell, who for his diligence was after-
wards rewartied by the family with a presentation to
the parish of Dunoon. Under this gentleman he
studied tlie classics, and some branches of philosophy.
But he was distinguished by a restless activity rather
than a fondness for study, and his father, anxious to
place him in a situation where he might have it in
ills power to retrieve the fortunes of the family, took
an early opportunity of presenting him to King Wil-
liam, who, in 1694, bestowed upon the young noble-
man the command of a regiment, he being yet in his
sixteenth year. In this situation he continued till
the death of his father, in the month of December,
1703, when, succeeding to the dukedom, he was
sworn of his majesty's privy-council, and appointed
captain of the Scots horse-guanls, and one of the
extraordinary lords of session. In 1704 the order of
the Thistle being revived in Scotland, his grace was
installed one of the knights, which dignity he subse-
quently exchanged for the order of the Garter.

In 1705' being exceedingly popular among his
countrymen, the Duke of Argyle was appointeil her
majesty's high commissioner to the Scottish parlia-
ment, in order to prepare the way for the treaty of
iHiion which her majesty Queen Anne, in concert
with her English counsellors, had now determined to
carry into effect. For his services in this parliament
he was created an English peer by the titles of Baron
of Chatham and Earl of Greenwich. His grace after
this served four campaigns in Flanders, under the
Duke of Marlborough, where he rose to the rank of
lieutenant-general, and was honourably distinguished
in the battles of Ramilies, Oudinarde, and Malplaquet,
in the last of which he narrowly escaped, having a
number of balls shot through his coat, hat, and peri-
wig. He w.as also employed at the sieges of Ostend,
Menin, Lisle, Cihent, and Tournay.

On the change of ministry in 1710, Argyle veered
with the wind of the court, and having become a de-
claimer again>t the Duke of .Marlborough, was by the
Tories appt)inted generalissimo in ."^pain, where there
were great complaints of mismanagement on the part
of the f)rmer ministry, and where it was now pro-
posed to carry on the war with more than ordinary
vigour. Here, however, his gr.ice w.is completely
overreached, the ministry having no intention of
carrying on the war anywhere. On his arrival in
Spain he found the army in a >tatc ot perfect disor-
ganization, without pay and witliout nece»aries, and
though the jxarliament had voted a large sum for its

29s

subsistence, not one farthing was sent to him. He
was under the necessity of raising money upon his
plate and personal credit for its immediate wants,
and in a short time returned to England, having ac-
complished nothing. This treatment, with a report
that a design had been laid to take him off by poison
while he was on his ill-fated journey, and, alx)ve all,
the superior influence of the Earl of .Mar, who, as
well as himself, aspired to the sole administration of
Scottish affairs, totally alienated him from his new
friends the Tories. He became again a leading
Whig, and a violent declaimer for the Protestant
succession, in consec|uence of which he was deprived
of all his employments. His grace had been a
principal agent in accomplishing the union, by which
his popularity was considerably injured among the
lower orders of his country-men; this he now dexter-
ously retrieved by joining with .Mar and his Jacobite
associates at court for the dissolving of that treaty
which he now pretended had completely disapjiointed
his expectations. A motion for this end was ac-
cordingly made in the House of Lords on the 1st of
June, 1713, by the Earl of Seafield, who also had
been one of the most forward of the original sup-
porters of the measure. The motion was seconded
t)y the Earl of Mar, and urged by Argyle with all the
force of his eloquence. One of his principal argu-
ments, however, being the security of the Protestant
succession, he was led to speak of the Pretender,
which he did with so much acrimony, that several of
the high Jacobites fled the house without waiting for
the vote. This was the means of disappointing the
project, which otherwise had most certainly been
carried, it having been lost after all by no more than
four voices.

On the illness of the queen in the following year,
the zeal of his grace for the Protestant succes.si(jn was
most conspicuous as well as most happy. Nobody
at the time entertained any doubt that Bolingbroke
and his party had an intention at least to attempt the
Pretender's restoration on the death of the queen;
and to prevent any undue advantages being taken of
circumstances, Argyle no sooner was apprised of her
dangerous situation than, along with the Duke of
Somerset, he repaired to the council-board, and yire-
vailed to have all the priv_\ -councillors in and about
London, without any exception, summoned to attend,
which, with the sudden death of the queen, so com-
jiletely disconcerted the Tories, that for the time
there was not the smallest manifestation of one dis-
cordant feeling. The queen was no sooner dead
than the seven lords who had by a previous act of
parliament been appointed to the regency, together
with sixteen additional personages nominated by the
heir-apjiarent, in virtue of the same act of parliament,
proclaimed the Elector of Hanover king of (ireat
Britain. They at the same time took every precau-
tion for preserving tranquillity, anil p.reparing Un his
majesty's being peacefully and honourably receive 1
on his arrival. The services of Argyle on tliis cu-ca-
sion were not overlooked: he was made groum nt the
stole to the prince, when his majesty had r,d\at;ccd
no further than Cireenwich, and two (i.iys aiicrwas
appointed commaneler-in-chief cf hi.- ni.\;o-".y > lorces
for Scotland.

Though by this stran^'e c.)nil)in,-i!i>>n ni L-cr.m-
stances — viz. the sudden denii-c nf tlic ']iilc!1, the c'is-
union of the Jacobites, with tin.- pr"ni.;>; >'.ec:si.in ot
the Whigs. annMig wIkuu ib.c sub'-ct oi tlii- nienioir
was a most efficient leader -llie aci:e--i.>n of the new
dynasty was to all ajipcarance ca-y and peacealile,
tlie battled faction very soon laUiC'i their forces, and
returned to the char.;e \\i;h an energy and a j^crse-
verance worthy of a better cau^e. '1 h-: cry ■ ■! ■"clrarch

296

JOHN CAMPBELL.

in danger" was again raised, and for some weeks
England was one scene of universal riot. Many
j)laces of worship belonging to Dissenters were thrown
tlown, and in several places most atrocious murders
were committed. Through the energy of the govern-
ment, however, open insurrection was for a while
]irevented, and tranquillity in some measure restored.
Still the activity of the Pretender at foreign courts,
and the restlessness of his adherents at home, created
strong suspicions that an invasion on his behalf was
intended, and every preparation that could be thought
of was taken to defeat it. A number of new regiments
were raised, officers of doubtful character were dis-
placed, suspected persons taken into custody, and
lords-lieutenant, with the necessary powers, every-
where appointed. In the meantime Scotland, where
the friends of the exiled family were proportionally
much more numerous than in England, was by a
strange fatality neglected. In the soutliern and
western shires, through the inlluence of the Hano-
verian club, at the head of which was the Earl of
Buchan, the attention of tlie people had been awakened,
and right feeling to a considerable extent excited; yet
even there Jac<5bitism was not a rare thing, and in
the north, through the influence of the Earl of Mar,
it was altogethertriumphant. That nobleman, indeed,
had cajoled into his views almost all the clans, at the
head of whom, to the amount of 12,000 men, he had
taken possession of Perth, and was ready to seize
upon the fords of the Eorth before the government
had observed his manceuvres, or taken any proper
^precautions to counteract them. Sensible at last of
the danger, they proclaimed the law for encouraging
loyalty in Scotland, summoned a long list of suspected
persons to deliver themselves up to the public func-
tionaries; and, to call forth those supplies of men and
money which they had hitlicrto shown a disposition
to forbid rather than to encourage, sent down the
Duke of Argyle, who had already been constituted
commander-in-chief of the forces, with all the neces-
sary powers for that purpose. His grace arrived in
Edinburgh on the 14th of .September, 1715, where
his first care was to inspect the garrison, tlie fortifica-
tions, and the magazines, from the last of which he
ordered thirty cartloads of arms and ammunition to
be sent to Glasgow and Stirling for the use of the in-
habitants. He then proceeded to review the army
which had been assembled at Stirling, General Wight-
man having there formed a camp of all the disposable
forces in .Scotland, which fell short of 2000 men, a
number altogether inader|uate to the arduous duties
they had to j^jcrform. 'fhe first care of his grace
was (jf course, to augment the forces by every pos-
sible means, for which end he wrote to the magis-
trates of Glasgow, and through them to all the well-
affected in the west of .Scotland, to forward such
troops as they might have in readiness, without loss
of time, anrl to have as many more provided against
a sudden emergency as possible. Glasgow, which
had been in expectation of such a cataslrojihe for a
considerable time, immediately forwarded to Stirling
upwards of 700 men, well equipi)ed, under the
command of Provost .\ird, with wlK)m they joined
Colonel John Blackadder, governor of .Stirling Castle.
These 700 were instantly rei>laced at GL'isgow by de-
tachments from Kilmarnock, Irvine, (ireenock, and
Paisley, where, with the exception of detachments
sent out to garrison the houses of Drummakill, (Jar-
tartan, and Cardross, they were allowed to remain
for the convenience of jirovisions, which were rather
scarce at .Stirling. He also ordered levies to fill up
ever}- company in the regular regiments to fifty men,
and to add two fresh companies to each regiment.
Put though he offered a strictly limited term (jf ser-

vice and a liberal bounty for that period {/^2 sterling
for each man), he does not appear to have been suc-
cessful in adding to his numbers. Nor, with all his
earnestness of aj^plication, could he prevail on the
government to spare him from England, where troops
were plentiful, a single man. One regiment of dra-
goons and two of foot from Ireland were the utmost
he could obtain, which, till he should be able to as-
certain the intentions of the Earl of Mar, were also
stationed at Glasgow. While Argj'le was thus strug-
gling with difficulties, and completely hampered in
all his operations. Mar had greater means than he
had genius to employ, and could, without any exer-
tion, keep his opponent in perpetual alarm. He
had already, by a stratagem, nearly possessed himself
of the castle of Edinburgh ere the magistrates of that
city were aware of his being in arms. A detachment
from his army, by a night march, descended upon
Burntisland, where a vessel loaded with arms for the
Earl of Sutherland had been driven in by stress of
weather. This vessel they boarded, carrying off the
arms, with as many more as could be found in the
town. A still bolder project was about the same
time attempted in the north-west, where a numerous
party of the Macdonalds, Macleans, and Camerons,
under the orders of General Gordon, attempted to
surprise the garrison of Inverlochy. They were,
however, repulsed, after having made themselves
masters of two redoubts and taken twenty men.
They then turned south upon Argyleshire for the
purpose of raising men, and General Gordon, who
had the reputation of an excellent officer, threatened
to fall down upon Dumbarton and Glasgow. This
was another source of distraction to Argyle, whose
small army could not well admit of being divided.
Gordon, however, met with little encouragement in
the way of recruiting, and after alarming Inverary,
where the duke had stationed his brother. Lord Hay,
dropped quietly into Mar's camp at Perth, where
nearly the whole strength of the rebels was now con-
centrated.

Though Arg}le was thus circumscribed in his
means, he displayed ceaseless activity and consider-
able address in the application of them, and the
great reputation he had acquired under Marlborough
rendered him, even with his scanty means, formidable
to his opponent, mIio was altogether a novice in the
art military. One talent of a great general too his
grace possessed in considerable perfection; that oi'
finding out the plans and secret jnirposes of his ad-
versary, of all whose movements he had generally
early and complete intelligence: Mar, on the con-
trary, could jirocure no intelligence whatever. He
knew that a simultaneous rising was to take place
under Thomas Poster of Etherstane, member of jiar-
liament for the county of Northumberland, and
another in Niths<lale under \'iscount Kenmure; but
liow they were succeeding, or to what their attention
had been more immediately directed, he was utterly
ignorant. To ascertain these jioints, to stimulate
his friends in their progress, and to open up for him-
self an easier ]>assage to the south, he detached 2500
of his best troops under the laird of Borhim, the
bravest and the most experienced officer perhaps in
his whole army. This detachment was to force its
way across the Pirth below Edinburgh, and through
the I.othians by the way of Kelso, till it should find
Kenmure or Poster u])on the English border. This
romantic ]>roject the old brigadier, as he was calle<i
in the army, accom])lished with great facility, one
boat with forty men being all that in crossing the
Pirth fell into the hands of the enemy. A few, with
the Pari of Slralhmore, were cut off from the rest,
but made their escape into the Isle of May, whence

JOHN CAMPBELL.

297

ia a day or two they found their way back to Perth.
The principal part of the expedition, consisting nearly
of 20CX) men, landed between Tantalon, North Ber-
wick, and Aherlady, and for the first night quartered
in Haddington. Karly next morning, the 13th of
October, the whole body marched directly for Edin-
burgh. This threw the citizens into the utmost con-
sternation, and an express was sent off directly to
Stirling for troops to protect the city: 200 infantry
mounted upon country horses and 300 cavalry arrived
the same evening; but had Borlum persisted in his
original design, they had certainly come too late.
On his arriving, however, within a mile of the city,
and meeting with none of the citizens, a deputation
of whom he had expected to invoke his aid, and
jierhaps secretly dreading the movements of Argyle,
Horlum turned aside to Leith, which he entered, as
he would in all probability have entered Edinburgh,
without the smallest opposition. Here the insur-
gents found and liberated their forty companions who
had been taken the previous day in crossing the Firth.
They also seized upon the custom-house, where they
found considerable quantities of meal, beef, and
brandy, wiiich they at once appropriated to their
own use; and possessing themselves of the citadel,
\vith such materials as they found in the harbour,
they fortified it in the best manner they could for
their security tlirough the night. Next morning
Argyle, wilii his 300 cavalry, 200 infantry, and a few
militia, marclied against Borlum, accomj^anied by
Oenerals livans and Wightman, giving him a sum-
mons under pain of treason to surrender, adding that
if he waited for an attack, he should have no
quarter. 'Ihe laird of Kynnachin, who was spokes-
man for the rebels, haughtily replied, that the word
surrender they did not understand, quarter they would
neither take nor give, and his grace was welcome to
force their position if he could. Sensible that with-
out artillery no attack could be made upon the place,
barricaded as it was, with any prospect of success,
the duke withdrew to prepare the means of more
ciTicient warfare, an<l Borlum, disappointed in his
views upon Edinburgh, and perhaps not at all anxious
for a second interview witii the king's troops, took
the advantage of an ebb-tide and a very dark night
to abandon his position, marching round the pier by
the sands for Seton House, the scat of the Earl of
\Vinton, who was in the south with Kenmure and
his associated rebels. This place, after sundry acci-
dents, they reached in safety about two o'clock in
tiie morning. Here they were joined by a number
of their companions, who, having crossed the Firth
further liown, were unable to come up with lliem on
the preceding day. Forty of their men, wlio had
made too free with the custom-house brandy, some
stragglers who had fallen behind on the march,
willi a small quantity of baggage and ammunition,
fell into the hands of a detachment of the king's
troops. .Argyle, in the meantime, aware of the
^trength of Scton House, sl-iU off an express to
Stirling fir cannon to cli>lo(lg(> its new possessors,
when he was inlornied that Mar was on his march to
firce the jia^^age of the Foiih. Tiiis coinjielled him
to hasten to Muling, where lie fou;i<l that .Mar had
actually cominenced his march, and had himself
ciiine as far sou'Ji as l)unl)lane, whence, hearing of
the arrival of tiie <iuke, he returned to Perth, having
attained his object, wliieh was only a safe retreat fur
his friends from Scton lIou>e.

On his sudiien departure for Stirling, .\rgyle left
the citv of F'linhurgh and Seton ILiuso to tfie care
of Oeneral Wightman and (./olonel Ker. with a few
regidar troops and tlie neighh'iuriiig militia. Fimi-
ing Seton impregnable to any kirce they cuuld

bring against it, they retired from it, to save them-
selves the disgrace of making an unsuccessful attack.
Borlum fmding himself unmolested, and in a c<juntry
where he could command with ea.se all kinds of pro-
vision, proposed nothing less than to establish there
a general magazine for the Pretender, and to enlist
an army from among the Jacobites of Edinburgh
and the adjacent country; hut l>efore he left the
citadel of Leith, he despatched a boat with intelli-
gence to Mar; and, firing after her, the king's ships
took her for one of their own boats, and allowed her
to pass without molestation. In consequence of this
notice. Mar had made a feint to cross the Forth,
merely to allow him to escape; and now he had an
answer at Seton House, with express orders to pro-
ceed south, and to put himself under the orders of
Kenmure or Foster, without a moment's delay. He
accordingly proceeded next day towards Kelso,
where he met with Foster and Kenmure on the
22d of October, when, after all the desertion they
had ex]5erienced by the way, which was very con-
siderable, the whole formed an army of 1400 foot,
and 600 horse. Here they were threatened with an
attack from General Carpenter, who was within a
day's march of them, and became violently divided
in opinion respecting the course they ought to jiursuc.
Foster and his Northumbrian friends were anxious
to transfer the scene of their operations to England,
where they promised themselves a prodigious in-
crease of numliers. The Highlanders, on the con-
trary, were anxious to return and join the clans,
taking the towns of iJumfries and Cilasgow in their
way. The contention was so hot that it had almost
come to blows, and it ended in 500 Highlanders
adopting the latter plan, who, separating fr'im their
companions, and taking their route for the heads of
the Forth, were either famished, killetl, or taken
])risoners by the way. The remainder followed the
former, and proceeded as far as Preston, where on
the 13th of November, the very day on which the
main armies met on the Sheriff-muir, they were all
made prisoners and delivered over, some to the exe-
cutioner, and the remainder to be slaves in the
plantations.

.\rgyle all this while continued at Stirling, and
Mar at Perth, carrying on an insignificant war of
manifestoes, ecpially unprofitable to both iiarties;
and perhaps etjually harassing to the country. On
tlie 23d of October, however, the duke, having
learnetl that a detachment of rebels was ]-)assiiig by
Castle Campbell, towards Dunfermline, sent out a
body of cavalry, which came up with the party, and
defeated it, taking a number of gentlemen I'ri-oncrs.
with the trilling damage of one dragoon wounded
in the cheek, and one horse slightly hurt. Nothing
further occurretl between the armies till Mar. fiiviing
that without action it would be impo>>il)le to kee;'
his army together, called a council oi" nil the cb.ie:>
on the 9th of Novenil.)er. in which it \\t.< re-ived
to cross the Forth without loss of time. N'^r culii
this iie, one would have suppo>ed. to thetn a;.yth;ng
like a difficult undertaking. .Vfter having (ii~;o'.eii
of 3000 men in the ditTerent gariiso:> a'.'T.g the
coa>t of File, they had still 12.CXX1 eftlxtive tro. ■;-
for the attack, whicli they ]>r"i'o>e(i >!i uM oe nia^ie
in the following manner:-- l-':r-t. w;:ii <':u- '.;v:-i"n
of 1000 men, to attempt the bri^i^'c >
a second of an ei]ual n;inil>er. tiie .\b
below the bridge; with a t!;;r i ■'! .1:
the fonl called the l»:if C Z. ' le. a
.above the luidge. The-e tl;:ee at:
posed, would ain;ily occf.p}' the I'uk
\\hich did not exceed 3'X:)0 nier.. r.r.
time, with tiieir main b- .'.y, eui!-.-:;:

, !■".■: i. a mile
:-,;.\l ir.miber.
e and a half
.-. iluy -up-
\\ ir !e army,
in ti'.e mcan-
of occo men.

298

JOHN CAMPBELL.

they intendei-l to cross the river still higher up, and
push directly for England, leaving the other three
divisions, after having disposed of the duke, to follow
at their leisure. Argyle, however, having acquainted
himself, by means of his spies, with the plan, took
his measures accordingly. Aware that if he waited
for the attack on the Forth, he would, from the
nature of the ground, be deprived of the use of his
cavalry, upon which he placed his principal depen-
dence, he determined to take up a position in ad-
vance of that river, and for this purpose, having
appointed the Earl of Buchan with the Stirlingshire
militia, and the Glasgow regiment, to guard the town
of Stirling, commenced his march to the north on
the morning of Saturday the I2th of November, and
in the afternoon encamjjed on a rising ground, hav-
ing on his right the SheritT-muir, and on his left
the town of Dunblane.

Mar, having committed tlie town of Perth to the
care of Colonel Balfour, on the loth had come as
far south as Auchterarder, with an effective force of
10,500 men, the cavalry in his army being nearly
equal to Argyle's whole force. The nth he de-
voted to resting the troops, fixing the order of battle,
<S:c., and on the 12th, General Gordon, with eight
squadrons of horse, and all the clans, was ordered
to occupy Dunblane. The remainder of the rebel
army hatl orders to parade early in the morning
on the niuir of Tullibardine, and thence to follow
General Gordon. This part of the army, which
was under the command of General Hamilton, had
scarcely begun to move, when an express came to
the general that the royal troops had already occu-
pied Dunblane in great force. On this the general
halted, and drew up his men in the order of battle
on the site of the Roman camp, near Ardoch. Mar
himself, who had gone to Drummond Castle, being
informed of the circumstance, came up with all
speed, and nothing further having been heard from
(ieneral Gordon, the whole w^as supposed to be a
false alarm. The troops, however, were ordered to
be in readiness, and the discharge of three cannons
was to be the signal for the approach of the enemy.
.Scarcely had these orders been issued, when an ex-
jiress from General Gordon informed the Earl of
Mar that Argyle had occupied Dunblane with his
whole force. The signal guns were of course fired,
and the rebel army, formed in order of battle on the
muir of Kinbuck, lay under arms during the night.

The Duke of .\rgyle, having certain intelligence
before he left .Stirling of Mar's movements, and
aware tliat before his army had finished its encamp-
ment the watch guns of the rebels would be heard,
disposed everything exactly in the order in which
he intended to make his attack next morning; of
course no tent was pitched, and officers anrl men,
withtjut distinction, lay under arms during the
night, which was uncommonly severe. The duke
alone sat under cover of a sheep-cote at the foot of
the hill. Everything being ready for the attack, his
grace, early in the morning of .Monday the 13th,
rode to the loyi of the hill, where his advanced guard
was posted, to reconnoitre the rebel army, wiiich,
though it had suffered much from desertion the tw(j
preceding days, was still upwards of 9000 men, dis-
posed in the following order — Ten Ijattalinns of fool,
comprising the clans commanded by Clanronald,
Glengary, Sir John Maclean, ami Campbell of
Glenlyon. On their right were three squadrons
of horse — the .Stirling, which carried the standard
of the Pretender, and two of the .Manpiis of Hunt-
ley's; on their left were the Eifeshire and Perthshire
squadrons. Their second line consisted of three
battaliijns of Seaforth's, two of Huntley's, those

of Panmure, Tullibardine, Lord Drummond, and
Strowan, commanded by their respective chieftains,
Drummond's excepted, which was commanded by
Strathallan and Logic Almond. On the right of
this line were Marischal's dragoons, and on their
left those of Angus. Of the left of their army his
grace had a tolerable view, but a hollow concealed
their right, and, being masters of the brow of the
hill, he was unable to discover the length of their
lines.

While the rebels, notwithstanding their great
superiority of force, were losing their time in idle
consultation whether they should presently fight or
return to Perth, the duke had an opportunity of ex-
amining their dispositions, but for a considerable
time could not comprehend what was their plan,
and was at a loss how to form his own. No sooner
had they taken the resolution to fight, however,
than he perceived that they intended to attack him
in front with their right, and in flank with their left,
at the same time; the severity of the frost through
the night having rendered a morass, which covered
that part of his position, perfectly passable. He
hastened to make liis dispositions accordingly. Be-
fore these dispositions, however, could be com-
pleted. General Witham, M'ho commanded his left,
was attacked by the clans, with all their character-
istic fury, and totally routed, Witham himself rid-
ing full speed to Stirling with tidings of a total defeat.
In the meantime, Argyle, at the head of Stair's and
Evans' dragoons, charged the rebel army on the left,
consisting mostly of cavalry, which he totally routed
in his turn, driving them, to the number of 5000
men, beyond the Water of Allan, in which many of
them were drowned attempting to escape. General
Wightman, v/ho commanded the duke's centre, fol-
lowed with three battalions of foot as closely as pos-
sible. The right of the rebels were all this time
inactive, and seeing, by the retreat of Ai'gyle's left,
the field empty, joined the clans who had driven it
off, and crossing the field of battle, took post, to the
number of 4000 men, on the hill of Kippendavie.
Apprised by General Wightman of his situation,
which was now critical in the extreme, Argyle in-
stantly wheeled round — formed the few troops he
had, scarcely 1000 men, the Grays on the right,
livans' on the left, with the foot in the centre, and
advancing towards the enemy, took post behind
some fold dykes at the foot of the hill. Instead
of attacking him, however, the reljels drew off to-
wards Ardoch, allowing him quietly to ]iroceed to
Dunblane, where, having recalled General Witham,
the army lay on their arms all night, expecting to
renew tlie comliat next day. Next day, finding
the enemy gone, he returned to Stirling, carrying
along with him sixteen standards, six pieces of can-
non, four waggons, and a great quantity of provision,
capture<l from the enemy. The number of the slain
on the side of the rel)els has been stated to have been
800, among whom \\'ere the liarl of Strathmore,
Clanranald, and several other persons of distinction.
Par.nuire and Drummond of Logic were among the
wounded. Of the royal army there were killed,
wounded, and taken prisoners upwards of 600. The;
Lf)rd Forfar was the only j^crson of eminence killed.
(;n that side.

The obvious incnjiacity of both generals, though,
from his great superiority of forces. Mar's is by far
the most conspicucnis, is the only striking feature of
this battle; both claimed the victory at the time, and
both had suffered a defeat, yet the consequences
were decisive. The rebels never again faced the
royal lroo])s, and for anything they effected might
have separated that very day. The period indeed

JOHN CAMPBELL.

299

was fatal in the extreme to the Pretender. The
whole body of his adherents in the south had fallen
into the hands of Generals Willis and Carpenter at
Preston. Inverness, with all the adjacent country,
had been recovered to the government, through the
exertions of the Earl of Sutherland, Lord Lovat,
the Rosses, tiie Monros, and the Eorbeses, nearly
on this same day; and tiiough Mar, on his return to
Perth, celebrated his victory with Te Deums, thanks-
givings, sermons, ringing of bells, and bonfires, his
followers were dispirited, and many of them with-
drew to their homes in disgust. Owing to the
paucity of his numbers and the extreme rigour of
the season, Argyle was in no great haste to follow
up his part of the victor)-, and the government,
evidently displeased with his tardy procedure, sent
down General Cadogan to quicken, and perhaps to
be a spy upon his motions. He, however, brought
along with iiim 6000 Dutch and Swiss troops, with
Newton's and Stanhope's dragoons, by wliich the
royal army was made more than a match for the
rebels, though they had been equally strong as be-
fore the battle of Dunblane. On the arrival of these
reinforcements, orders were issued to tlie commander
in Leith Roads to cannonade the town of Burnt-
island, whicli was in possession of a large body of the
rebels; and this he did with so mucli effect, that they
abandoned the place, leaving behind them six pieces
of cannon, a number of small arms, and a large
quantity of provisions. Several other small garri-
sons on the coast were abandoneil about the same
lime, and a detachment of the Dutch and Swiss
troops, crossing over at the Queensferry, took pos-
session of Inverkeithing, Dunfermline, and the
neighbouring towns, in consequence of which Fife
was entirely al)andoned by tlie rebels. .Some trifling
skirmislies took place, but no one of such magnitude
as to deserves formal detail.

Cadogan, writing to tlie Duke of Marlljorough at
this period, says, that he found the duke anxious to
invent excuses for sitting still and endeavouring to
discourage the troops, by exaggerating tlie numbers
of the enemy, and the dangers and ditticulties of the
service. Now, however, having received from Lon-
don, Berwick, and Edinburgh, a sufficient train of
artillery, pontoons, engineers, A:c., no excuse for
inaction was left, but tlie inclemency of the weather;
and this, in a council of war, it was determined to
brave. Colonel Guest was accordingly sent out, on
the 2lst of January, 1716, with 200 horse, to view
the roatis anil reconnoitre the positions of the enemy.
The colonel reported the roads impassable for car-
riages and heavy artillery, in conseipience of which
several thousands of the country people were called
in and employetl to clear them. .\ sudden thaw,
on the 24tii, followed by a heavy fall of snow, ren-
dered the roads again impassable; but the march
was determined upon, ancl the countrymen had to
clear the roads a second time. But, l^esides the im-
pas,-,ability of the roads, there were neither provi-
sions, for.ige, nor shelter (frozen rocks and UKnin-
tains of snow excpled) to l)e fountl between Perth
and DunhLiUL-, tlie Chevalier having ordered every
village with all that coulil be of use either to man or
beast, to be de>troyed. Provisions and forage fir
the army were therefore to be jirovided, subsistence
for twelve days being ordered \.o be carried along
with tiicm. and nioro to he in readiness to send after
tliem when wanted. In the meantime, two regi-
ments of drag' ion> and 500 fiot were sent lorwnni
to tlie lirokL-ii bridge of 1 loune, in ca-;e the rel)eU
might have attempted to secure llie passage; and, on
the 29tli, the main army began its march, quartering
that ni'dit in Dunblane. On the night of tlie ;o;h

the army quartered among the ruins of Auchterarder,
without any covering save the canopy of heaven, the
night being piercingly cold and the snow upwards
of three feet deep. ( )n this day's march the army
was preceded by 2coo labourers clearing the roads.
Next morning they surprised and made prisoners
fifty men in the garrison of Tullibardine, where the
duke received, with visible concern, if we may credit
Cadogan, the news that the Pretender h.id abandoned
Perth on the preceding day, having thrown his ar-
tillery into the 'Pay, which fie cros.sed on the ice.
Taking f jur scju.adrons of dragoons, and two batta-
lions of foot, whatever might be his feelings, .\rgyle
hastened to take possession of that city, at which he
arrived, with (General Cadogan and tlie dragoons,
about one o'clock on the morning of the i>t of Eelj-
ruary. The two colonels, Camijbell of Finab, and
Campbell of Lawers, who ha<l been stationed at
Finlarig, hearing of the retreat of the relx-ls, had
entered the town the jjreceding day, and h.ad made
prisoners of a party of rebels who had got drunk
upon a quantity of brandy, wliich they had not had
the means otherwise to carry away. Plight hundred
bolls of oatmeal were found in Mar's magazine,
which Argyle ortlered to be, by the miller of the mill
of Earn, divitled among the sufferers of the different
villages that had been burned by order of the Pre-
tender. Finab was despatched instantly to Dundee
in pursuit of the rebels; and entered it only a few-
hours after they had departed. On the 2(1 his grace
continued the pursuit, and lay that night at P^rol.
On the 3d he came to Dundee, where he was joined
by the main body of the army on the 4th. Here
the intelligence from the rebel army led his grace to
conclude that they meant to defend Montrose, wiiere
they could more easily receive supplies from abroad
than at Perth; and, to allow them as little time as
possible to fortify themselves, two detachments were
sent forward without a moment's loss of time — the
one by Aberbrothick, and the other by Brechin.
Owing to the depths of the roads the progress of
these detachments was slow, being under the neces-
sity of employing the country people to clear away
the snow before them. They were followed next
day by the whole army, the duke, with the cavalry
and artillen.-, taking the way liy Brechin, and Cado-
gan, with the infantry, by Aberbrothick. ( )n thi>
day's march they learned that the Chevalier. Mar,
and the princi]ial leaders of the rebel army ha<l em-
barked the day before at Montrose, on l«iard the
Maria Teresa, and had sailed for France, while their
followers had marched to .\berdeen under the charge
of General Gordon and Earl Marischal. On tlu-
6th the duke entered Montrose, and the same day
the rebe'ls entered Aberdeen. Thither his grac.-
followed them on the 8th; but they had then sej ar-
ated among the hills of Badenoch, and were ci>in-
pletely beyond the reach of their pursuers. .\ nun:-
l)er of tlieir chieftains, however, with some Iri.-'i
othcers, being well mounted, rode otf in a l^'iiy Vx
Peterhead, expecting there to tind the mear:s 1 :
escaping to France. After these a I'arty n! l-..ir>.-
were sent out, but tliey had e>capcd. Fir.ab wn>
also sent to Frazerburg in search ot stra::.;.Lr-, \'\\\
found only the Chevalier's phy-ician, wh..':n iic ir.a.ie
prisoner.

Finding the rel)jl> completely di>; er-,.!, .Xrgxie
divided his troo-^;, and di-i'er>ed tl.em >o n> he
thought best fir preserving the pi:M;e trar .r.ilhty;
and, leaving Cadogan in ;!ie C"innia:i'i. -et i'\;t t'>r
Edinburgh," where^he arrived "ii tlie 27-11 of Feb-
ruary, and w.is jire^ent at the election I't a ;ieer to
serve in the roMm i.f the Marquis ot d'weeddale,
ilcceased. On tlie l~t <'f NLirch. after has iiig been

JOHN CAMPBELL.

most magnificently entertained by the magistrates
of the Scottish capital, his grace departed lor Lon-
don, where he arrived on the 6th, and was by his
majesty, to all appearance, most graciously received.
There was, however, at court a secret dissatisfac-
tion with his conduct; and, in a short time, he was
dismissed from all his employments, though he
seems in the meantime to have acted cordially with
the mmistry, whose conduct was, in a number of in-
stances, ridiculous enough. They had obtained an
act of parliament for bringing all the Lancaster
rebels to be tried at London, and all the Scottish
ones to be tried at Carlisle, under the preposterous
idea that juries could not be found in those places
to return a verdict of guilty. Under some similar
liallucination, they supposed it impossible to elect
a new parliament without every member thereof
being Jacobite in his principles; and, as the parlia-
ment was nearly run, they brought in a bill to enable
themselves, as well as all otiier parliaments which
should succeed them, to sit seven years in place of
three. The bill was introduced into the House of
Lords on the lOth of April, by the Duke of Devon-
shire, who represented triennial parliaments as serv-
ing no other purposes than the keeping alive party
divisions and family feuds, with a perpetual train of
enormous expenses, and particularly to encourage
the intrigues of foreign powers, which, in the present
temper of the nation, might be attended with the
most fatal consequences. All these dangers he pro-
posed to guard against, by prolonging the duration
of parliaments from three to seven years. He was
supported by the Earls of Dorset and Buckingham,
the Duke of Argyle, the Lord Townshend, witii all
the leaders of the party; and though violently op-
posed by tlie Tories, who very justly, though they
have been its zealous advocates ever since, denounced
it as an inroad upon the fundamental parliamentary
law of the kingdom, the measure was carried by a
sweeping majority.

Previously to this, Argyle had honourably dis-
tinguished himself by a steady opposition to the
schism bill, against which, along with a number
of the greatest names England has ever produced,
he entered his protest ujjon the journals of the
house. Subsequently, in a debate on the ImII for
vesting the forfeited estates in Britain and Ireland
in trustees for the public behoof, we find him speak-
ing and voting against it with tlie Jacobite lords
North and Gray, Trevor and Harcourt, but he
was now out of all his employments and pensions,
and the Jacobite Lockliart was every day expecting
to hear that he had declared for James VIII., whicli
there is every probability he would have done, had
that imbecile prince been able to profit by the wisdom
of his advisers. In the beginning of the year lyi'S,
when the Pretender became again a tool in the hands
of Cardinal Alberoni for disturliing the trantiuillity
of the British government, Argyle was restored to
favour, appointed steward of the liousehold, and
created Duke of Greenwich, when he again lent his
sup[K)rt to the ministry in bringing forward the
famous peerage bill — another insane attempt to sub-
vert the balance of the constitution. I'y this bill
the peerage was to V)e fixed so as that the number of
llnglish peers should never be increased above six
more than their number at that time, which, on the
failure of heirs male, were to be filled up by new
creations. Instead of the sixteen elective Scottish
])eers, twenty-five were to be made hereditary on
the part of that kingdom, to be also kept up l)y
naming other .Scottish peers on the failure of heirs
male. This bill was introduced by the Duke of
Somerset, seconded by Argyle, and being also re-

commended by his majesty, could not fail of passing
the lords, but met with such violent opposition in the
commons that it was found expedient to lay it aside
for the time. When again brought forward it was
rejected by a great majority. After this his grace
seems for a long period to have enjoyed his pensions,
and to have lived for the most part on peaceable
terms with his colleagues. Only, in the year 1 721,
we (ind him, in order to supplant the Squadrone and
secure to himself and his brother the sole and entire
patronage of Scotland, again in treaty with Lockhart
of Carnwath and the Tories, in consecjuence of which,
Lockhart assures the king [James] that if there is to
be a new parliament, the Tories will have the half of
the sixteen peers, and Argyle's influence for all the
Tory commons they shall be able to bring forward
as candidates. "I also inserted," he adds, "that
matters should be made easy to those who are pro-
secuted for the king's [James'] sake, and that Argyle
should oppose the peerage bill, both of which are
agreed to." The ministry, however, contrived to
balance the Squadrone and his grace pretty equally
against one another, and so secured the fidelity of
both, till 1725, when the Squadrote were finally
thrown out, and the whole power of Scotland fell
into the hands of Argyle and his brother Hay; they
engaging to cany through the malt-tax, as the other
had carried through the forfeiture of the rebels' estates.
From this, till the affair of Captain Porteous, in 1737,
we hear little of his grace in public. On that occa-
sion we find him again in opposition to the ministry;
defending the city of Edinburgh, and charging the
mob upon a set of upstart fanatical preachers, by
which he doubtless meant the seceders. The effect,
however, was only the disj^lay of his own ignorance,
and the infliction of a deeper wound upon the Scot-
tish church, by the imposition of reading what was
called Porteous' Paper upon all her ministers. Edin-
burgh, however, contrary to the intentions of the
court, was left in the possession of her charter, her
gates, and her guards; but the lord-provost was de-
clared incapable of ever again holding a civil office,
and a mulct of £i<XiO sterling was imposed upon
the city funds for the captain's widow. In the suc-
ceeding years, when the nation was heated into
frenzy against Spain, his grace made several appear-
ances on the popular side; and, in 1740, after an
anti-ministerial speech on the state of the nation, he
was again deprived of all his employments. On the
resignation of Sir Robert AValpole, his grace was,
by the new ministry, once more restored to all his
jilaces. The ministry, however, were unable to
maintain their jiojndarity, and Argyle finally quitted
the stage of public life. From this time forward
he affected privacy, and admitted none to his con-
versation but ]iarticular friends.

The Jacobites were now jireparing to make a last
effort to destroy that spirit of freeciom which was so
rapidly annihilating their hopes. They had all
along believed that Argyle, could he have reconciled
them with his own, was not unfriendly to their in-
terests; and now that he was old, idle, and di\t;ustcd,
hni)ing to work u])on his avarice and his ambition, at
the same time they i^revailed upon the Chevalier, now
also approaching to dotage, to write him a friendly
letter. The time, however, had been allowed to go
by. Argyle had acquired a high re]nitalion lor
])atriotism — he was now old and paralytic, utterly
unfit for going through those scenes of jieril that
had been the pride of his youth; and he was too
expert a jiolitician not to know, that from the jiro-
gress of ])ublic o])inion, as well as from the state of
])ioperty and private rights, the cause of the Stuarts
was utterly hopeless. The letter was certainly be-

JOHN CAMPBELL DR. JOHN CAMPBELL.

301

neath his notice; but, to gratify his vanity, and to
show that he was still of some little consequence in
the world, he sent it to his majesty's ministers. The
Jacobites, enraged at his conduct, and probably
ashamed of their own, gave out that the whole was
a trick intended to expose the weakness of the
ministry, and to put an affront upon the Duke of
Ari;yle. The loss to either party was not consider-
able, as his grace's disorder now began rapidly to
increase. He fell by degrees into a state of deep
melancholy, and departed this life on the 3d of Sep-
tember, 1743, in the sixty-fifth year of his age.

His grace was twice married — first to Mary,
daughter of John Brown, Esq., and niece to Sir
Charles Duncombe, lord-mayor of London, by whom
he had no issue. Secondly to Jane, daughter of
Thomas Warburton, of Winnington, in Cheshire, by
whom he had four daughters. I le was succeeded in
his Scottish titles and estates by his brother Lord
Hay, but wanting male issue his English titles be-
came extinct.

From the brief sketch we have given of his life,
the reader, we apprehend, will be at no loss to ap-
preciate the character of John, Duke of .A.rg)le. Few
men have enjoyed such a large share of popularity —
fewer still have, through a long life, threaded the
mazes of political intrigue with the same uniform
good fortune. The latter, however, illustrates the
former. He who has had for life the sole patronage
of a kingdom, must have had many a succession of
humble ser-'ants ready to give him credit for any or
for all perfections; and he must have exercised that
patronage with singidar infelicity, if he has not bene-
fited many individuals who will think it a duty they
owe to themselves, if not to extenuate his faults, to
magnify his virtues. Such a man can never want
popularity, especially if he has an assistant upon
whom he can impose the drudgery and the less
dignified duties of his place, reserving to himself
more especially the performance of those that flatter
public opinion, and conciliate public affection. .Such
a man was Argyle, and such an assistant he had in
his brother. Lord Hay, who, supjiorted by his in-
fluence, had the reputation for upwards of tliirty
years of being the kins^ of Scotland. In early life
he acquired considerable military reputation under
the Duke of Marlborough; and when he was paving
court to the Tories had the temerity, on a military
question, to set up his opinion in the House of Lords,
inopjiositiontothat most accomplished of all generals.
How justly, let Sheriffmuir and the hill of Kippen-
davie say ! Happily for his grace, there was no Lord
George Murray with the rebels on that occa'^ion.
His eloquence and his patriotism have been highlv
celebrated by Thomson, but the value of poetical
panegyric is now perfectly understood; besides, he
shared the praises of that poet in common with Piuhb
Doddington, tlic Countess of Hertford, an<l twenty
otiier names of equal insignificance. General Cado-
gan, wlio accompanied him through the latter jxart
of his northern campaign, seems to have made a very
low e-itimate of his patriotism. He charges liim
openly with being lukewarm in the cause he de-
fendeii, and of allowing his .\rgylcshire men to go
befjre the army and plunder the country, "which."
says he, "eiira_;es our soldiers, who are not allowed
to take the worth of a farthing out of even the rebels'
houses." What was taken out of hou^e-^ bv either
of them we know not; but we know that our armv
in its progress north, particulnrly the I-)utch part of
it, burnt fir fuel jiloughN. harrows, cart>, cart-
wheeU, and barn-door^ indiscriminately, so that manv
an honest farmer could not cultivate his fields in the
spring for the want of these nece>.~ary implements,

which to us proves pretty distinctly, that there was
a very small degree of patriotism felt by either of
them. Of learning, his grace had but an inconsider-
able portion; still he had a tolerable share of the
natural shrewdness of his countrj'men; and though
his speculative views were narrow, his knowledge of
mankind seems to have been practically pretty ex-
tensive. His disgraceful truckling to, and traffick-
ing with the Tories and the Jacobites, at all times
when he was out of place, demonstrates his jirinciples
to have been sordid, and his character selfish. His
views of liberty seem to have lieen verj' contracted —
the liberty of lords and lairds to use the jxrople as
might suit their puq^oses and inclinations. In perfect
accordance with this feeling, he was kind and affec-
tionate in domestic life, particularly to his servants,
with whom he seldom parted, anrl for whom, in oM
age, he was careful to provide. He was also an ex-
ample to all noblemen in being attentive to the state
of his affairs, and careful to discharge all his debts,
particularly tradesmen's accounts, in due sea.~on.
We cannot sum up his character more appio])riatelv
than in the words of Lockhart, who seems to have
appreciated very correctly the most prominent features
of the man, with whom he was acquainted. '"He
was not," says he, "strictly speaking, a man of
sound understanding and judgment, for all his natural
endowments were sullied with too much impetuosity,
passion, and positiveness, and his sense lay rather in
a flash of wit, than a solid conception ancl reflection
— yet, nevertheless, he might well enough pass as a
very well-accomjdished gentleman."

CAMPBELL, John, LL.D., an eminent mis-
cellaneous writer, was bom at Edinburgh, March S,
1 70S. He was the fourth son of Robert Campbell,

of Glenlyon, by Elizabeth Smith, daughter of

Smith, Esq., of Windsor. By his father, Dr. Camp-
bell was connected with the noble family of Breadal-
bane, and other distinguished Highland chief>; by
his mother, he was descended from the poet Waller.
If we are not much mistaken, this distinj^uislicl
writer was also allied to the famous Rob Roy .Mac-
gregor, whose children, at the time when Dr. Camp-
bell enjoyed a hi;^h literary reputation in the metro-
])olis, must have been passing the lives of outlaws
in another part of the country, hanily yet emerge'l
from barbarism. \\ hen only five years of age he
was conveyeti from .'-Scotland, which country he never
afterwards saw, to Windsor, where he received hi^
education under the care of a maternal uncle. It
was attempte<l to make him enter the profe>>ion it
an attorney; but his thirst for knowledt;e rcndercl
that disagreeable to him, and caused hini to prelcr
the precarious life of an author by profession. 1:
would be vain to enumerate the many work.-- if Dr.
Campbell. His first undertaking of any mag;.itu(ii-
was 77u- Military History of the Duke oj 'Mar'.u /\ u^-:
and Prince Kii::;otu\ winch appeared in I73^^ in twn
volumes folio, and was well received. He va- luxt
concerned in the prciiarati^jn of the Ancier.t I /:;:erst:l
//.'.Vivr. wliich a]ipeared in stven tuli-^. tlie Ia>l
being publi-hed in 1744. The part nl.r.in.L; to th'v
cosmogony, which is \>\- far the nin^t iLanud. un-
written by Dr. Canii>l'cll. In 1742 a] ; earcl tlie
two first volumes of his /.::e.- of l';r .L:'i::y,:.s. and
in 1744 the remaining two: this i^ •,!'.e ^i ;y wak 1 t
Dr. Canqihell v.hieli has contiinied j.-iuiar to tlie
])re-ent time, an acei'lcr.t ; rr'i'.'.i ly ar:-;".^. ii; a giiat
measure, frmn tlie natr.rc o>\ tlie sul^ject. 1 lie ac-
tivity of Dr. Campliell at \\::< jerimi is very -urj ris-
ing. In tlie same year in \\\\xh he C'^m; Icteii his
la-t-mentioned work, he piil);;~hed a Coiir.tun 0/
I'oyj^es and 7'r.::ei.\ i:; t^^ o vu!un;es fulio. In 1745

DR. JOHN CAMPBELL.

lie commenced the publication of the Biographia
Britaunica, in weekly numbers. In this, as in all
the other works of Dr. Campbell, it is found that he
did not content himself with the ordinar}' duties of
his profession as exercised at that time. While he
wrote to supply the current necessities of the public,
and of his own household, he also endeavoured to give
liis works an original and peculiar value. Hence it
is found that the lives composing his Biographia
Britanuica are compiled with great care from a vast
number of documents, and contain many striking
speculations on literary and political subjects, cal-
culated to oljtain for the work a high and enduring
character. The candour and benevolent feelings of
Dr. Campbell have also jvoduced the excellent effect
of striking impartiality in the grand questions of re-
ligious and political controversy. Though himself
a member of the Church of England, he treated the
lives of the great nonconformists, such as Baxter and
Calamy, with such justice as to excite the admiration
of their own party. Dr. Campbell's style is such as
would not now perliaps be much admired; but it
was considered by his own contemporaries to be
superior both in accuracy and in warmth of tone to
what was generally used. He treated the article
"Boyle" in such terms as to obtain the thanks of
John, fifth Earl of Orrer)% "in tlie name of all the
Boyles, for the honour he had done to them, and to
his own judgment, by placing tlie family in such a
light as to give a spirit of emulation to those who
were hereafter to inherit tiie title." A second edition
of the Biographia, with additions, was undertaken,
after Dr. CampbelTs death, by Dr. Kippis, but only
carried to a fifth volume, wliere it stopped at the
letter F. It is still in both editi(jnsone of the greatest
works of reference in the language. While engaged
in these heavy undertakings, Dr. Campbell occa-
sionally relaxed himself in lighterworks, one of which,
entitled Hcrmippiis RcdiviT'iis, is a curious essay,
apparently designed to explain in a serious manner
an ancient medical whim, wliich assumed that life
could be prolonged to a great extent by inhaling tlie
breatli of young women. It is said that some grave
])hysicians were so far influenced by this mock essay,
as to go and live for a time in female boarding-
schools, for the purpose of putting its doctrine to the
proof In reality the whole afi'air was a jest of Dr.
CamjjbelJ, or rather perhaps a s])ortive exercise of
his mind, being merely an imitation of the manner
of Bayie, with wliose style of treating controversial
subjects he ap]K-ars to have Ijccn deeply impressed,
as he professedly adopts it in the Biographia Bri-
tanuica. In 1750 Dr. Campltell published his cele-
brated work, 7'hc Present State of Europe, which
afterwarfJi went through many editions, and was so
much admired abroad, that a son of the Duke de
Belleisle .studied English in order to be able to read
it. The vast extent (jf information wliich Dr. Canip-
l)ell had acquired during his active life Ijy conversa-
tion, as well as by books, ancl the compreliensive
]iowers of arrangement which his jirofession had
already given him, are conspicuous in this work.
He was afierwards employed in writing some of the
most important articles in the Modern L'niTersal
History, which extended to sixteen volumes folio,
and was reprinted in a smaller fjrni. His last great
work was the '■^ Political SHr-<'ey of Britain, being a
series of Reflections on the Situation, Lands, Inhabi-
tants, Revenues, Colonies, and Commerce of this
Island," which appeared in 1774, in two volumes 410,
having cost him the labour of many years. Though
its vahic is so far temporar}-, this is perhaps the work
which does its author the highest credit. It excited
the admiration of the world to such a degree as caused

him to be absolutely overwhelmed with new corres-
pondents. He tells a friend in a letter that he had
already consumed a ream of paper (nearly a thousand
sheets) in answering these friends, and was just
breaking upon another, which perhaps would share
the same fate.

Dr. Campbell had been married early in life to
Elizabeth, daughter of Benjamin Robe, of Leomin-
ster, in the county of Hereford, gentleman, by whom
he had seven children. Though it does not appear
that he had any other resources than his pen, his
style of life was very respectable. His time was so
exclusively devoted to reading and writing, that he
seldom stirretl abroad. His chief exercise was an
occasional walk in his garden, or in a room of his
house. He was naturally of a delicate frame of
body, but strict temperance, with the regidarity of
all his habits, preserved his health against the effects
of both his sedentary life and original weakness, till
his sixty-eighth year, when he died, December 28,
1775) ii^ f*^!! possession of his faculties, and without
pain.

It would only encumber our pages to recount all
the minor productions of Dr. Cam])bell. A minute
specification of them is preserved in the second edition
of his Biographia Britannica, where his life was
written by L)r. Kippis. .So multitudinous, however,
were his fugitive compositions, that he once bought
an old pamphlet, with which he was pleased on
dipping into it, and which turned out to be one of
his own early writings. So completely had he forgot
everything connected with it, that he had read it half
through before he had discovered that it was written
by himself. On another occasion, a friend brought
him a book in French, which professed to have been
translated from the German, and which the owner
recommended Dr. Campbell to try in an English
dress. The doctor, on looking into it, discovered it
to be a neglected work of his own, which had found
its way into Germany, and there been puljlished as
an original work. Dr. Campbell, in his private life,
was a gentleman and a Christian: he possessed an
acquaintance with the most of modern langu.ages,
besides Hebrew, Greek, and various oriental tongues.
His best faculty was his memory, which was sur-
prisingly tenacious and accurate. Dr. Johnson
spoke of him in the following terms, as recorded by
Boswell: "I think highly of Campbell. In the first
]ilace, he has very good parts. In the second ])lace,
he has very extensive reading; not, perhaps, what is
properly called learning, but history, politics, and,
in short, that ])0])ular knowledge \\hich makes a man
very useful. In the third place, he has learned much
by what is called the voce vi^'a. He talks with a
great many ])eo]ile." The ojijiortunities which Dr.
Campbell enjoyed of ac(]uiring information, by the
mode described by Dr. Johnson, were very great.
He enjoyed a universal ac<iuaintance among the
clever men of his time, literary and otherwise, whom
he regularly saw in com'crsaliones on the .Sunday
evenings. The advantage which a literary man must
enjoy by this means is very great, for conversation,
when it becomes in the least excited, strikes ovit
i'leas from the minds of all present, which would
never arise in solitary study, and often brings to a
just ef[uilibrium disputable points which, in the
cogitations of a single indiviclual, would be settled
all on one side. .Smollett, in enumerating the writers
who had reflected lustre on the reign of George II.,
sjieaks of "the merit conspicuous in the works of
Cam]jbell, remarkable for candour, intelligence, and
precision.'' It oidy remains to l)e mentioned, that
this excellent man was honoured in 1754 with the
degree of LL.D. by the university of Glasgow, and

LIEUT. -COL. JOHN CAMPBELL.

303

that, for some years before his death, having be-
friended the administration of the Earl of Bute in
his writings, he was rewarded by the situation of his
majesty's agent for tlie province of Georgia.

CAMPBELL, LlEUTENANT-COLONEI, JOHN, a
distinguislicil soldier, was Iwrn at Edinburgh, De-
cember 7, 1753. He was second son of John Camp-
bell, Esq., of Stonefield, one of the judges of the
court of session, and Lady Grace Stuart, sister to
•John, third Earl of Bute. Lord Campbell was a judge
of the supreme court for the long period of thirty-
nine years, and died on the 19th of June, 1801. His
son John received the greater part of his education
in his native city, the high-school of which he
attended from the year 1759 to 1763. When eighteen
years of age, he entered the army as ensign in the
57th regiment of foot; and in three years afterwards,
was appointed to a lieutenancy in the 7th foot, or
royal fusileers. With this regiment he served in
Canada, and was made prisoner there, when that
country was overrun by the American generals
Montgomery and Arnold. Having obtained his
release, he was two years afterwartls, namely, in
1775, appointed to a captaincy in the 71st, or, as
they were then called, Frazer's Highlanders; and
with this corps he served in America, until towards
the close of the war with that country, having been
in the meantime appointed major of the 74^h regi-
ment, or .\rgyleshire Highlanders.

In February, 1 781, ^I.ljor Campbell exchanged
into the looth regiment, with which corps he em-
l)arked in the expedition fitted out l)y the British
gijvernment against the Cape of Good Hope, under
the command of Commodore Johnston, and general,
afterwards .Sir William Meadows. On this occasion,
the general orders bore that the troojjs on board of
the Porpoise and lui^le transports were to receive
their orders from Major Campbell. Circumstances,
however, having subsequently rendered it advisable,
in the opinion of the commodore and general, not to
make any attempt on the Cape, but rather to pro-
ceed to the East Indies, to ai<l the British forces
there, the transports proceeded to their new destina-
tion, and arrived in Bombay in Januan.-, 17S2. In
the February following. Major Campbell was ap-
pointed to command tlie flank corps of a small army
assembled at Calicut, on the Malabar coast, under
the command of Lieutenant-colonel Humberston.
This army marched into the interior, for the purpose
of attacking Palagatcherry, an important stronghold
of Hyder .\li; but it was found too strong to be
assailed with any chance of success by so small a
force as that which was now brought against it;
(Jolonel Humberston, therefore, found it necessary
to retreat, without attempting anything. During
tills retreat the Ihitish forces were for some time
jnirsued by the enemy, who, however, were kept so
effectually at hay by the retiring troops, that they
were unable to obtain any advantage over them; and
the sole merit of iliis was a.-cribed by the command-
ing oftlcer to the able and soldier-like manner in
which Major Canijibi'll covered the retreat, in %Vhich
service he had a horse shut under him.

The retreating army having reached Paniana, a
British station, the commaml was assumed by Colonel
Macleod, who made immediate preixarations fir re-
ceiving the enemy, who, though now left at some
distance in the rear, were still advancing. In the
dispiisition of his f)rces on this occasion. Colonel
Macleod confided the command of the centre to .Major
Campbell, who had, in the interim, been a]ipointed
to the majority of the second battalion of the 42d
regiment. The enemy, led by Tippoo Sultan, shortly

after\vards appeared, and attacked the posts where
Major Campbell and Major Shaw, who commanded
the left, were situated ; but was repulsed with such loss,
that he retreated with his army to a c(jnsiderable
distance, and did not again seek to renew the con-
test. In this engagement .Major C.ampl>ell was
wounded, but remained in the field till the enemy
was defeated. The singular intrepidity and ad-
mirable conduct which he di^playe<l throughout the
whole of this affair, called forth the warmest encom-
iums from Colonel Macleo<l, who, in the general
orders which he issued on the following day, Ixjre
the most flattering testimony to his merits.

The most important ser\ice in which .Major Camp-
bell was engaged was the siege of Annantjjore, which
he reduced and took from the enemy.

In May, 1783, he was appointed by the governor
and select committee of Bombay to the ])rovisional
command of the army in the Bidnure country, in
absence of Colonel Macleod, who was ])ri>oner
with the enemy. Soon after Major Campbell had
assumed the command, Tippoo having got possession
of Bidnure, meditated an attack on Mangalore, where
Major Campbell was stationed; and with this view,
and as a preparatory proceeding, he sent a detach-
ment of his army, consisting of about 4000 horse and
foot, and some field-pieces, in advance. Having
been informed of the approach of these troops. Major
Campbell marched from Mangalore at midnight, on
the 6th of May, 1783, with 1400 men, with the inten-
tion of surprising them; and in this he was eminently
successful. He reached the enemy's camp about
daybreak, attacked them, and instantly put them to
the rout, capturing four brass field-pieces and 180
draught bullocks — the latter a singularly valuable
prize, as, from the country being in possession of the
enemy, cattle was not to be had for the commissariat.
This defeat of his detachment, however, in>tead of
diverting Tippoo from his intended attack on Manga-
lore, had the effect only of urging him to hasten his
proceedings; and on the 19th of May his vanguard
appeared in sight of that jdace, which by the 23d
was regularly invested by an army, computed at not
less than 140,000 men, accompanied by 100 pieces
of artiller}-.

Major Campbell's defence of this important fortros
against such a jirodigious force is justly reckt^ned one
of the most remarkable achievements that ever df>-
tinguished the British arms in India. The garrison
under his command consisted only of 1S83 men, and
of these not more than 200 or 300 were British sol-
diers, the remainder being sepoys or native infantry;
and they were, besides, in want of almost every
accommodation and comfort necessaiy to enable
them to endure a siege. They were sliort of IjMtl;
provisions and medicine; and, from the in.-utficient
shelter which the fort afforded, they were exposed tn
the inclemencies of the monsoon. Xotwith-tandipg
all tliis, however, this little garrison resisted all tlic
efforts of Ti]i]")Oo, who commanded at the ^iege in
pel -on, till the 2d of .\ugii>t, two monti;- ar..i r.
lialf, wlien, through the intervention ni tlie eiiv. y
from tlie French court at Tiiijio'Ts durl'.-.r, a ce--a-
tion of hostilities took ]ilace; but a- iiei'Jxr >:i:e
meant, notwithstanding tlii.- jiarley. i>> g:\e v.y i.'ie
contest, the siege was now converted ir.ti' a I''. J-.a';e;
and though thegarrismi was tin:- relieved u r.i li.e
danger of casuakies hv tl;e hand ■■! ;;:e i. r.einv. r. \sa-
not relieved from t!ie ini-erie- of famine. \vhKii had
now reduced them to the la-t cMtvn-.ity of .:i~tre--.

Soon after the ce-saiion of lio-t;i.ti^> jo. ,k ]<Iacc.
Tippoo exiires-cil a wi,-h to ^ee M.-jor Caiiijl'e'.],
whose bravery, tliougli a!T er.t.'ir.y. lie h.\'\ t:eneroMLy
enough to aprrcciatc. Maj.T Can:; ix-ll accepted

304

REV. JOHN CAMPBELL.

the invitation, and had an audience of the eastern
potentate, who received him with much poHteness,
and paid him many flattering compliments. The
major was accompanied by several of his officers on
this occasion, and amongst these by two captains of
the 42d, in their full costume — a sight with which
Tippoo was extremely delighted. To each of the
otBcers he presented a handsome shawl; and after
they had returned to the fort, he sent Major Campbell
an additional present of a very fine horse, which the
famishing garrison— such was the melancholy con-
dition to which they were reduced — afterwards killed
and ate.

By the assistance of occasional but extremely in-
adequate supplies of necessaries, which reached tiiem
from time to time by sea, the intrepid defenders of
Mangalore held out till the 24th of January, 17S4, by
which time they were reduced to the most deplorable
condition by disease and famine, when Major Camp-
bell determined on calling a council of war, to con-
sider whether they shoukl continue the defence or
capitulate. The council decided on the latter, and
terms were accordingly submitted to Tippoo, who
accepted them; and on ihe 30th January the troops
evacuated the fort, and embarked for Tilliclierry,
one of the British settlements on the coast of Malabar,
after enduring, under all the disadvantageous circum-
stances already related, a siege of eight months, and
sustaining a loss in killed and wounded, besides other
casualties, of no less than 749, nearly the half of the
whole garrison.

Though thus eventually compelled to capitulate, the
service performed by Lieutenant-colonel Campbell
(a rank to wliich he was promoted, 19th February,
1783), by the determined and protracted resistance he
had made, was of the last importance to the British
interests in India, inasmuch as it concentrated and
occupied all Tippoo's forces for eight entire months,
at a most critical period, and prevented him from
attempting any hostile operations in any other part
of the empire during all that time. Of the value
of that service the government of Bombay expressed
itself deeply sensible; and there is no doubt that
some especial marks of its favour and approbation
would have followed this expression of its sentiments
reganiing the conduct of Colonel Campbell, had he
lived to receive them; but this was not permitted to
him. He was not destined to enjoy the fame he
had won, or to reap its reward. The fatigue he had
undergone daring the siege of Mangalore had under-
mined his constitution, and brought on an ilhiess,
which soon terminated fatally.

Under this affliction he quitted the army on the
19th Fehruiry, and jiroceeded to Bombay, where he
arrived on the 13th NIarch, past all hope of recovery;
and on liie 23 1 of the same month he expired, in
the thirty-fir^t year of his age. A monument was
erected to his memory in the church at liomb.ay, tjy
order of the court of directors of the East India Com-
pany, asa te-.timony at once to his merits, and of their
gratitude for tlie important services he had renderetl
to the IJrltish interests in India.

CAMPBELL, Rkv. Joitn. This active mis-
sionary and enterprising traveller, wiiose many
labours procured for him a high estimation in tiic
Christian world, was born at Edinburgh in 1766.
He was the youngest of three sons, and had the
misfortune U) lose his father when oidy two years old.
and his mother four years afterwards. IJeing j'laccd
under the guardianship of .Mr. Bower-;, his uncle, a
pious elder or deacon of the Relief church, Julm was
educated at tlie high-school of lulinlnirgh, then
under the rectorsliip of Dr. Adams; but he never in

after-life manifested any particular acquaintanceship
with Latin and Greek. His restless temperament
and enterprising spirit were more inclined to action
than study, and might have led him headlong into
evil, h.ad they not been kept in check by the whole-
some restraints and religious education established
in his uncle's household. On finishing his education
at the high-school, he was apprenticed to a gold-
smith and jeweller in Edinburgh. Although at this
early period he was deprived of the religious instruc-
tions he had hitherto enjoyed, in consequence of the
death of his uncle, the loss was in some measure
supplied by diligent reading and anxious reflection,
combined with the intercourse of pious acquaintances,
whose benevolence was awakened by his orphan
condition. As his years and experience increased,
he became a visitor of the sick and dying poor, to
whom he imparted the consolations of religion; as
well as of the ignorant and the dissolute, whom he
was anxious to enlighten and convert. In this way
he became a city missionary among tiie murky lanes
and closes of Edinburgh, at a time when such an
ofiice was most needed, and, as yet, little thought of.

Mr. Campbell had now commenced that evan-
gelistic public life which was to know neither rest
nor interval; and while engaged in the shop of a
hardware merchant, an occupation to which he had
betaken himself, he was to become a correspondent
of the principal characters of the religious world,
and be connected with those great public enterprises
in which they were the chief movers. But to a life
of such varied action, notwithstanding its heroic
disinterestedness and important results, we can only
devote a very brief enumeration.

One of the earliest of these labours was the estab-
lishment of Sabbath-schools. At a time when
domestic religious instruction was prevalent in Scot-
land, their introduction, instead of being a benefit,
would have been a mischievous intrusion. But now
that this patriarchal style of life was fast passing into
a new phase, and that the present was a transition
period, which is generally a period fraught with
danger, the old system of religious tuition was
wofully in abeyance, while nothing as yet had l^ecn
brought forward to supplement the deficiency. Sab-
bath-schools, indeed, had even already been intro-
duced into the country; but they were not only few,
but regarded as a dangerous novelty — nay, a libel
upon our covenanting and well-educated Scotland,
whose religious character now stood so high among
the nations of Christendom. And yet all the while
there were thousands of children for whom no one
cared, and who were growing up in ignorance and
jiroliigacy, while every year was increasing the evil.
.Scotland, as is too often the case, was contentedly
re])<)sing ujjon her past character, and therefore
blind to the present emergency. To this educational
jilan, so ungracious, and yet so needful, John Camp-
bell directed his efforts. He opened a large Sabbath-
scliool in the old Archers' Hall; and, fiiuling it suc-
ceed, he opened another in the hall of the lulinburgh
dispensary. Encouraged by the success of this bold
exjieriment upon the capital, and by the Countess of
l.even and several of our .Scottish aristocracy, whose
religious patriotism was awake to the true interests
of their country, he now turned his attention to the
rural districts, and opened a school at the village of
l.oanliead, a few miles distant from Edinburgh.
Here he took his station exclusively as teacher, and
so effectually, that he soon had 200 ])U]iils. His
zealous missionary labours in these and similar
undertakings, introduced him to the Haldanes, men
of congenial sjiirit, who were eager to second his
cfiorts; and accordingly, in company with Captain

REV. JOHN CAMI'DKLI..

305

James Haklane, the younger brother, he set off on
a tour throu^'h the west of Scotland, partly for the
distribution of tracts, but mainly for the establishment
of Sabbath-schools. With this view they visited
Glasgow, Paisley, and Greenock; and although the
trip occupied only a single week, the formation of
sixty schools was the result within three months after-
wards. A system of religious education was thus
prosperously commenced that was soon to overspread
the country, and which, we trust, will continue,
until society, still better christianized than it is at
present, will revert to the good old plan of having
the Sunday-school at home, with the head of the
house as its zealous affectionate teacher.

From Sabbath-school teaching to j^reaching was
but a step, upon which .Mr. Campbell next ventured;
it was a change from growing to grown children,
where the latter were to the full as unintelligent as
the former, but with still greater need of the coer-
cions of religion, while the kind of instruction which
had been found so available with the one might be
equally so with the other. He commenced in the
first instance with Gilmerron, a village in the neigh-
bourhood of E<linburgh, chiefly inhabited by colliers,
the despised Pariahs of British society; and, having
opened a preaching station for Sabbath evening
service, he was aided in his labours by students of
divinity and lay-preachers; and especially by Rate,
Aikman, and the Haldanes, the fathers of Scottish
Indei)endency. Encouraged by the success of this
trial upon (iilmerton, Messrs. Campbell, Rate, and
James llaldane resolved to attempt an itinerancy of
lay-preaching over the whole of Scotland north of
Edinburgh. It was a novel experiment, for, except
the brief visits of Whitefield to Scotland, the prac-
tice of preaching in the open air had been discon-
tinued tliere since the happy accession of William
and Mary to the throne. In every town and village
to which they came, they announced their purpose
and the place of muster, and there the crowds who
assembled were roused anew with proclamations of
those evangelical doctrines to which very few pulpits
of the day were wont to give utterance. This, in-
deed, was a sufficiently humble mode of preaching;
bat it was apostolic withal, and suited to the wants
of the times; and one of the best fruits of this lay
and out-of-door preaching was, that in the present
day it is needed no longer. After he had toiled in
the work until he broke down from sheer exhaustion,
and resumed it as soon as his healtli had recovered,
Campbell saw with satisfaction this field successfully
occupied bytiie Haldanes, and those whom they had
trained to an itinerant ministry.

Ilitheito it had been the reproach of Protest-
antir^m, tint it wa^ not a mis.^ionary church. Xow.
imwever, liie ro])roac!i was to be rolled away; and
one of th_' tn^t-fruits of this awakened sense of duty
>vas the formation of the London Missionary Society,
composed of Chri>tians of all denominations, fir a
great united ag-rcs.-ion u[)on the heathenism of the
world. Similir in^titviti^ins in connection with the
parent br.mcli Iu^mii rapidly to be establisiied in
various citic^; and auiniig these, one of the first was
in Edinburgh, of which Mr. Campbell was a director.
In this way, v.h.Ie, to u>e the language of one of his
biograiiliLT-, '"^oMiors and >ailor> wrote to him for
advice; the n^'c ly and greetly for money; the re-
claimed outca>t^ tor prayer and counsel; ■lark villages
for itinerants; and chaiH'l-l)uiIder> for help;" and all
this wiiile undergoing the weekly cares and toiK of
a tradesman in the liow, and tlio--e of a village lay-
preacher at Gilmerton on the ."^abbath, he had the
complicated concerns of a new mi.---!o!iary society
superadded to his niaiiifuld occupations. Zeal,

VuL. I.

activity, sagacity, business-habits, prudence, per-
suasiveness, were all in requisition for the discharge
of so many duties: and all these qualities he brought
so fully to the task, as to show that he was now in
his congenial element. The condition of Africa
employed his attentitm with reference to the estab-
lishment of a mission at Sierra I.eone; but the
unhealthiness of the climate along the coast, and the
"terrible unknown" of the interior, equally seemed
to bid defiance to the enterprise. In this trving
dilemma, an expedient suggested itself to his rnin<i
as sufficient to obviate every difficulty; it was to
obtain from the British settlement there a numlK-r of
native children of both sexes, and after educating
them in Britain, to send them back as missic^naries
to their kindred and countrymen. The next stej)
was to procure funds for such a costly but hopeful
undertaking, and these were volunteered by Mr.
Robert llaldane, who saw at once the soundness of
the scheme. Twenty-four children were accordinglv
brought from Africa to London, and nothing re-
mained but to forward them to Edinburgh, to be
trained under the superintendence of those who had
originated the plan. But here difficulties arose at
the outset with which Mr. Campbell had nothing
to do, and the children were educated in London.
Still he had taught the ^^■ay by which Africa was to
be opened up, and its hitherto inaccessible regions
evangelized; and every succeeding year has justified
the sagacity with which the expedient was devised,
by the happy results that have already crowned it.
It is upon native missions, perhaps, that we must
ultimately rely for the Christianization both of In<lia
anil .Africa.

Having been so successful as a home-missionar.-
and lay-preacher, Mr. Campbell now thought it his
duty to devote himself wholly to the ministerial
work. He could accomplish this with greater
facility, as the theological hall which the IndejK'n-
dents had lately established recpiired a shorter
course of study than that prescribed by the regular
colleges. This step also corresponded more hilly
with his views of church government, which ac-
corded with Indepenilency. He therefore repaircv!
to Glasgow, and prosecuted his stuiiies f ^r the pur-
pose uniler the Rev. Greville Ewing, wlio was at the
head of the seminar)-. Here, also, he occa>ionally
joined Mr. llaldane in his itinerary preaching tuur>;
and (jn one occasion, in 1S02, he carrietl hi> lalxmr^
through a considerable part of England, and officiated
during part of the summer at Kingsland Ciiapel,
Lonilon. For two years after, Mr. Campbell itine-
rated through various parts of ."^coiland and the
northern counties of England, when, in 1804. l.e
received a regular call from the congregati-.m oi
Kingsland Chajiel to become their mini-ter. Ik-
complied, and entered immediately with full ardour
ujKjii the sacred duties of his new oiTice. .Altlioi-.^h
now inini^^ter of a London chapel, the situation \v.;^
by n<.) means one either of di>t!nction or eni"!i;r.x:.;.
On the Contrary, the congregation \\ere >o jioor. .ir,'
his salary therefore so scanty, lliat he \'..-.> ol,ii-e<l ; >
ojien a day-schriol iu Kingsland, in a I'iiti'in to Li-
clerical duties. He ^^■as al-o eiiitor ot the ) 1 .v.'-. -
M<!.;aziiiL-, a small religious periodie.il wliuh l'.-'
Commenced anvl supeiinieiide 1 ti.:"V.g:i ll:--- !;:-t ter.
Volume-.

d'he remarkalde activity of Mr. Ca:r.; i'eil. a;i i ti;e_
energy with which he entered into the ■ ■; ei.v.ion- ol
the various religious s 'cietie- \\.\\\ wi.'.eh he v.,-.-.
engaged, l)esi<

' ■ '■ - Tcieher.

s iliscnarging tiic
schoolmaster, editor, aii'.i itir.ei
hrouglit him into i;.';:ce in \ ■ r.
to the London Mis;:-;..-.: v >.j^;

20

3o6

REV. JOHN CAMPBELL LORD CAMPBELL.

jjloying him in an enterprise of the utmost import-
ance. Tliis was a tour of exploration through
Caffraria, for the purpose of examining the state of
the Hottentot and Caffre missions, now left helpless
by the death of the lamented Dr. Vanderkemp. It
was a commission fraught not only with difficulty
but peril, but Campbell cheerfully undertook it.
lie was solemnly set apart for this purpose in Miles'
Lane Chapel, the venerable Dr. Waugh presiding
on that occasion.

Losing no time, the minister of Kingsland Chapel
left London on the 24th of June, 1812. Already
lie had confronted the fierce waves that girdle the
Orkneys, and traversed its little islands to proclaim
the gospel; but now he was to "brave the stormy
spirit of the Cape," and explore its vast interior,
upon a similar errand. Ilis jirogress in .South Africa
fully justified the choice that had been made of him;
for while no minister or missionary could have been
more zealous, active, and efficient in the special
duties of his calling among the Christian stations
which he visited, he added to these the qualifications
of an intrepid, diligent, and enterprising traveller,
alive to the interests of general knowledge and
science, and sliarply observant of every ol^ject in his
way. Three thousand miles were traversed by him
in a country as yet but little known to the British
public, and, after an absence of nearly two years, he
returned to England in May, 1814. He was not
yet done, however, with South Africa, for in little
more than four years his services as a traveller, which
already had been so useful, were again in requisition.
A second journey over the same country was the
consequence, which occupied two years and a half,
and he returned to London in 1821, just in time for
the missionary May meetings, which he gratified by
the rich fund of intelligence which he brought from
the land of his adventurous pilgrimage. Altogether
his published account of these two journeys not only
threw much light upon the interior of South Africa,
but brought into full view whole towns and tribes
whose existence had as yet been unknown in Europe.
It was indeed a valuable addition to that portion of
the map which had hitherto been little more than
a blank, or a few conjectural lines. In consequence
of these services, the London Missionary Society
were anxious that he should resume his pilgrim's
i-taff, and make a similar exploration of the stations
tlieyhad estaljlished in the Polynesian Islands. But
tiiis application he respectfully declined. After his
secon'i return from Africa, in consequence of the
death of his aunt, and marriage of his niece, who
had hitherto been his housekeepers, he tocjk to him-
self a jiartner of his home, and resumed his minis-
terial duties at Kingsland Chapel.

The rest of the life of Mr. Campbell, which was
chiefiy spent in London, was marked by the same
earnest diligence and usefulness which had hitherto
characterized it. Dccitledly a man of action, his
lu3urs, his very minutes, were all turned to good
account, while his cheerful lively humour continued
to animate him to tlie last, llis ])iely, his vigor(jus
S'jund sense, his fluency as a sjieaker, and his jukes,
always made him a favourite upon a London religious
])latform; and as soon as liis liltle conqxict figure,
dark complexion, and cheerful look, were presented
to address them, the whole meeting Ijrightened up
with expectation, and hailed him witli ap])lauding
welcome. Thus he continued unbent and unbroken
until he had passed the boundary of threescore and
ten, when he was attacked at the commencement of
1840 by his last illness. His end was one fall of
]ieace and hope, and his only disf[uietude was from
tlij thouglU, that, in spite of all he had done, he had

not done enough — that he had not done what he
could. A few hours before he died, the missionary
spirit that had so essentially predominated during life
was strongest within him, and in broken accents of
prayer he exclaimed unconsciously, "Let it fly!
let the gospel fly!" His death occurred on the 4lh
of April, 1840.

CAMPBELL, The Right' Hon. John, Lord-
chancellor of England. The remarkable rise of this
Scotsman, who, without the advantages of birth,
rank, genius, or even polished manners and in-
gratiating address, fought his way from the humble
condition of an unbeiriended student of Lincoln's
Inn to the highest office which the law can bestow —
and this, too, in the nineteenth century, when men of
the highest talent were so abundant — contains an
important lesson which his countrymen would do
well to study. It shows what a resolute imconquer-
able will, steady perseverance, and clear good sense
can achieve, even although those higher qualities
and advantages which are thought essential to success
should l)e wai.'ing.

His father, the Rev. Dr. Campbell, like all of his
name, claimed a descent from the illustrious house
of Argyle, through a junior branch of that family;
but this was little better than a mythic distinction,
as he held no higher situation than that of minister
of tlie county town of Cupar, Fifeshire. In 1776 he
married a Miss Ilalyburton, through whom he be-
came connected, but distantly, witli several noble
families, among which was that of Wedderburn, the
lord-chancellor. By this lady he became the father
of five daughters, one of whom married Dr. Thomas
Gillespie, minister of Cults, and professor of human-
ity in the university of St. Andrews; and two sons,
the younger of whom, and subject of the present
memoir, was born at Springfield, near Cupar, on
September 15, 1779. After the ordinary education
at the grammar-school of Cupar, John was sent at a
very early age to the imiversity of .St. Andrews, with
a view of being educated for the church; but after
taking his degree of M.A., he resolved to adopt the
profession of the law, and for this purpose went to
London, and entered himself a student of Lincoln's
Inn in November, 1800. Here he was fortunate tc^
have for his guide and instructor in the study of
special pleading, Mr. Tidd, whom his grateful pupil
thus commemorates: "To the unspeakable advantage
of having been three years his pupil, I chiefly ascribe
my success at the bar. I have great pride in re-
cording that, when at the end of my first year, he
discovered that it would not be quite convenient for
me to give him a second fee of 100 guineas, he not
only refused to take a second, but insisted on return-
ing me the first. Of all the lawyers I have ever
known he had the finest analytical head, and, if he
had devoted himself to science, I am sure he would
have earned great fame as a discoverer. His dis-
])osilion and his manners made him uni\cr.-:ally be-
loved."

(Jn his arrival in London Campbell naturally
associated with his own countrymen, and tliosc
esi)ecia!ly who were in like circum.-itances with him-
self. 'J'here was at this time in the great metropolis
a club of young Scottish adventurers who were sons
<jf clergymen of the Church of Scotland, of \\hich
Serjeant Si)ankie and Wilkie the painter were
members, and to this club Cami:>bell joined liimself,
being delighted with its associating sentiment thus
haj)])ily expressed by Wilkie, "]!orn in the manse,
we have all a patent of nol^ility." This sentiment
Canqibell delighted to quote long afterwards, when
he occupied a j^lacc among tlie British peerage. To

LORD CAMPBELL.

307

be enabled, however, to study law, and afterwards
to await the cominfj of practice, was his most serious
consideration; and to effect this, he supported him-
self, like many of his brethren in London, by con-
tributing to the public prints. For this purpose
he obtained an introduction to his countryman, the
well-known Mr. I'erry, proprietor of the Morning
Chronicle-; and on this paper he was employed as a
reporter as well as theatrical critic, which last office
he continued to hold until 1 8 10. These were curious
occapations for a raw young Scotsman who could
scarcely speak intelligible English; but Campbell
had a fund of talent within himself, which was
adequate for such work, and a resolution that soon
surmounted its difficulties, and made the task an
easy and agreeable occupation. Nor was the office
of reporter to a London newspaper without its literary
dignity, as considerable scholarship was required for
it, while not a few who had held the office were
among the best writers of the day.

Thus trained for his profession by careful study of
the law, and the analytical practice of a literary critic,
Campbell was called to the English bar in Alichael-
mas term, 1806. lie travelled the Oxford circuit,
where he soon obtained considerable practice, and
formed an intimate acquaintance with the late Judge
Talfourd, in consecpience of tlieir mutual sympathy
for the drama. But London was liis proper place
of business, and it was to its practice that he looked
for advancement in his profession. To succeed in
thisit was necessary to be in favour with the attorneys,
and in one of his biographical sketclies, he remarks
of Bratt, that "he persevered for eiglit or nine years,
but not inviting attorneys to dine with him, and
never dancing with their daughters, liis j)ractice did
not improve." Campbell wisely avoided this rock,
and by more dignified metiiods than dancing and
dinner-giving: between 1S09 and 1816 he puljlished
a series of reports at Xisi Brius, extending to four
volumes. No greater bjon could have been con-
ferred upon the attorneys, and especially on those
who had personally to do with the trials; for at the
end of each decision were the names of those attor-
neys who had been employed in the trial — a practice
wholly new in the history of law-reporting. It was
right that t!ie man who thus honoured them should
be favoured in return, and the leading solicitors gave
him extensive practice, especially in sliipping cases,
and he was retained in nearly every nn])ortant case
tried before a special jury at the Guildhall sittings.
But a higlier popularity than that of the attorneys
attended the publication of these four volumes; they
were received as the admirably-reported decisions of
Lord EUensborougli; and Campbell valued himself
not without cause in having contributed to found
that great lawyer's re]iutation.

In this way Jolin Campbell continued his course
from year t<^ year, finding pleasure from that which
to others is a toil and a weariness. But although
his practice was constantly increasing, he had as yet
received none of those honorary appointments that
would have Ijeen conferred upon one still less dis-
tinguished in his profession — and for this neglect his
])olilical sentiments may account. He was a Whig,
and the patronage of guvernment was still confined
to the opposite party. In iSji lie married Mary
Elizabeth, eldest daugliter i.^i ^\v James .'^carlett,
afterwards Lord .\binger-a lady who, to her other
attractions, addeil that of being descended from the
C'anipbells througli her mother, the tliird daugluer
of -Mr. Beter Campbell of Kihnorey, .\rgyleshire.
In 1S27, wlien the coalition ministry came into
])ower, and lawyers of talent were favoured irrespec-
tive of their politics, John Canr^ibell -liared in the

new promotions, by obtaining the honour of a silk
gown, and a seat within tiie bar. As the Whigs
were now acquiring the ascendency, he resolved to
profit in the rise of his party by obtaining a seat in
parliament; he accordingly became a candidate for
Stafford, and was successful, in consequence of
which he represented .Stafford during l830and 1831.
In November, 1832, Campbell was appointed soli-
citor-general, and in the following month was a
member of the first refonned ])arliament, iK-ing re-
turned for Dudley. "Blain John Campbell" was
now Sir John, with the pros])ect of becoming some-
thing higher still; and in Febniary, 1834, the way to
this rise was opened by his appointment to the office
of attorney-general; and although he was rejected in
tiie re-election for Dudley, he was soon after repre-
sentative in parliament for Edinburgh, in consequence
of the retirement of Francis Jeff^rey on l>cing ap-
pointed a lord of session.

As attorney-general, Sir John Campbell conferred
important and lasting services upon the countr\-, by
inaugurating a series of legal reforms, which has been
continued from year to year. Among these services
was the introduction of the act called "Lord Camp-
bell's Act," for the amendment of the law of libel as
it affects newspapers, by which the proprietor is
permitted to pay a small sum into court, and to
escape further damages by proving both that the
libel had appeared without malice, and that it was
followed by the insertion of an apology. Another
beneficial measure of Sir John was the introduction
of a bill to limit the powers of arrest, by which the
judge was required to be satisfied on oath before the
order was issued, and the defendant permitted, when
arrested, to dispute the plaintiff's affidavit, and thereby
obtain liberation. While thus employed as a legis-
lator. Sir John's career as a barrister continued to
acquire additional lustre, and his speeches upon the
important trials in which he was engaged were
reckoned master-pieces of that diligence, accuracy,
and clearness of statement in which he excelled, and
which had generally been found more available than
the highest style of forensic eloquence. The chief
of these occasions was in his defence of Lord Mel-
bourne, in the action for damages raised by Mr.
Norton, in a charge so damaging, that had it been
established against the premier, it was thought that
the stability of the Melbourne cabinet would Jiave
])een seriously affected by the issue. .Sir John so
effectually rebutted the charge, and jiroved the inno-
cence of the calumniated lady, that a unanimous
acquittal was the result; and when Sir John, after
the trial, entered the House of Commons near mid-
night, he was greeted by the cheers of the members
present.

Notwitlistanding his appointment to the hit;h
office of attorney-general, .Sir John Campbell's merit-
had scarcely been adequately rewarded, and several
law-officers were promoted over his head \\!io>e
services were not equal to his own. Aware, indeed.
of his worth, and that he might not be ^afel\'
neglected, the Melbourne caiiinet endeaviaired to
lirojiitiate him by raising his lafly to tlie jxer.ige in
lier own right, under the title of l!aroiie>> Stratheiien.
Finding tliat this was not enough, they jirojeeted a
bill "for facilitating the admini-iration oi ju>t;ce ji:
equity," mider %\hich he al>o would liave heer.
raised to the peerage. But the Mell. iurne inini-tn-
was already falling, and tlie o]-.['o>ition v. a> un-
willing to .admit a I'/ill that wniil.! have armed their
opponents with t"re>h influence, tlm mgli tl;e power
of creating new aj^pointments. 'I'hu.-- matters con-
tinued from 1S36 to 1S41. wlien an opening ajj.eared
for Sir John Canipb^ll's promotion, in ei.'ii>eqiience

3oS

LORD CAMPBELL THOMAS CAMPBELL.

of the retirement of Lord Plunkett from the office of
chancellor of Ireland. Sir John was raised to the
chancellorship, and also to the peerage towards the
end of June, and went to Ireland as the head of the
legal profession in that country. But there he did
not stay one short month, or sit in court more than
a day or two, and in the September following he
resigned with the Melbourne ministry. "He re-
tained," says his biographer in the Tiiiws, "the title
and a pension of ^^4000 a year; but he declined the
pecuniary reward, and lived for the next five years
without office, profession, salary, or pension."

Lord Campbell was now in the miserable plight of
a restless, active, laborious man, having nothing to
do; and a leading part in a parliamentary debate, or
a forensic duel with Lord Brougham, were the only
safety-valves by which his superthious energies could
be let off. In this condition his mind turned to tlie
happy days of his youth, when literary occupation
was enough for his enjoyment, and he resolved to
resume his pen, and console himself in its exercise
until fresh paths for his activity should open up.
His early aspirations after literary fame had never
been extinguished, and now was the time to indulge
them to the full. He cast about for a subject, and
none appeared to him so fit, or so tempting, as
Lives of the Chaitcellors. It was one best suited
to his studies and professional knowledge — and it
has been surmised that, in his choice of such a sub-
ject, he had himself an eye to the chancellorship,
when his party should be recalled to office. The
first series of the Lives of the Chaiicdloi's was pub-
lished early in 1846. The work immediately became
popular, and the public pleasure enjoyed in its
perusal was enchanced by the wonder, that a lawyer
so steeped in his profession could have produced
such learned, vigorous, life-like sketches. They did
not know that his early studies had all but intro-
duced him into the office of a churchman, and that
the career of a student at a Scottish university is
peculiarly adapted for the study of biography. Per-
haps they were equally unaware of the practice he
had acc[uired as a journalist, when his slashing
literary and political articles, and critiques on plays
and actors, had enlightened and amused the early
days of their fathers. This work Lord Campbell
followed by Lives of the Chief -Justices, written in the
same strain. Of these two biographical works, it
would be too much to say that they are grave,
elaborated, and elegant productions. Notwith-
standing the liveliness of their style, they are care-
lessly and incorrectly written, and where effect was
to be produced he has yielded too much to the
gossip or the scandal of the period. But these
disqualifications of the Lii'es are far more than coun-
teri)oised by their merits; and the following observa-
tions of the Times are as just as they are laudatf)ry:
"With all its defects, however, moral and critical,
the portraiture in these volumes is sharp and life-
like; there is very little of what he called 'fiuminery'
in his observations; every page is fiill of interesting
matter, displaying immense stores of information at
once various and niiinitc, while he deserves credit
f)r the impartiality with which on the whole he has
appreciated the characters and acts of jioliticians
dilTcring from him in opinion. The subject was
x\V)-\ happily chosep, and the work has been exe-
cuted with an ability ^\■hich ])reclu(les any fiiturc,'
biographer from lightly attempting the same theme."'

In 1846, when Lord John Russell's cabinet Mas
formed, it was expected that Lor<l Campbell would
have obtained the great seal; but instead of this, he
was offered nothing higher than the chancellorship
of the duchv of Lancaster. At this he demurre<l, but

finally closed with the offer, when the premier had
said to him, "Remember, the office has been held
by Sir Thomas More and by Dunning." Although
he had thus a seat in the cabinet, his literary occupa-
tions went on without interraption, so that while he
held the chancellorship of the duchy, he published
several volumes of his biographical series. At
length he was recalled from his studies to the work
of active life in 1850, when Lord Denman having
resigned the chief-justiceship of the Queen's Bench,
Lord Campbell was appointed in his room. It was
no light task to be the successor of Lord Denman,
who, besides being an able and skilful lawyer, and
eloquent orator, possessed a noble and commanding
presence, which compelled respect, while Lord
Campbell was neither dignified in appearance nor
eloquent of speech, and laboured under the addi-
tional disadvantage that his judicial faculty had
scarcely as yet been called into action. The contrast,
indeed, was so striking, that Lord John Camjibell's
appointment excited great wonderment and con-
siderable dissatisfaction. But even these obstacles
he could surmount through that energy which had
never failed him, so that he first equalled, and finally
surpassed, the distinction of his illustrious predecessor.
Having held the important office of lord chief-justice
during nine years with a reputation that was growing
every year, Lord Campbell attained his highest and
last promotion in 1859, when, in consequence of
Lord Palmerston's accession to power, he was
selected to fill the office of lord-chancellor, while
the appointment gave general satisfaction. In this
manner, and step by step, the son of an obscure
Scottish clergyman — without patronage, without
family influence, without personal advantages, and
even without pecuniary means to smooth the diffi-
culties of the commencement — fought his way onward
and upward from the condition of a lawyer's clerk
dependent upon literary labour for his subsistence,
to the highest office which a lawyer or a subject can
attain. How ably and uprightly during the eleven
last years of his life he discharged his duties as lord-
chancellor the present generation has felt, and future
years will commemorate.

The death of John Lord Campbell was not only
sudd' but startling. Living in an age distinguished
b) t number of its political octogenarians, his
vigorous frame and healthy constitution, although
he had reached the age of fourscore, seemed to hold
out the ]n-omise of several years longer, closed by a
gentle and gradual decay. On the day preceding
his death he was engaged in his ordinary pursuits;
in the afternoon he attended a meeting of the cabinet
council at Downing .Street; and in the evening he
entertained a party of eighteen at dinner, where his
conversation was of its usual lively character, without
any symptom of illness. At one o'clock he bade his
daughters good night in the drawing-room, and re-
tired to rest; but in the morning at eight o'clock
when the butler entered his lordship's bedroom, he
found him seated insensible upon a chair, with his
head tlirown back, and blood oozing from his mouth.
It was found that the ruiUure of a blood-vessel near
the region of the heart liad caused his death, which
must have been instantaneous. Thus silently John
Lord Campbell passed away on Sunday morning,
the 23d of June, 1861. By Baroness Strathedeii,
who died about a \ear jireviously, the deceased lelt
issue, three sons and four daughters. His remains
Were iiUeiTed within the ruins of Jedbuigh Abbe}',
near \\ liich he had ])urchased an estate.

CAMPBELL, Thomas. This poet, so justly and
poetically called the "Bard of Hope," wua born at

THOMAS CAMPBELL,

309

Glasgow on the 27th of July, 1777. Like many of
his name, he could trace his descent throuj^h an
illustrious ancestry; but to these genealogies he was
indifferent, being contented to be known as the son
of Alexander Campliell, merchant, Glasgow, and one
of a family of eleven children. The poet was espe-
cially fortunate in the intellectual character of his
])arentage, his father being the intimate friend of
Keid, author of the Im/uiry into the Ifuinan Mind,
while his mother was distinguished by her love of
general literature, combinetl with sound understand-
ing and a refined taste. Dull, indeed, woukl that
mind naturally be, that could be nursed up under
such guardianship to nothing better than mediocrity.
JOven at the early age of ten, Thomas Campbell had
irrevocably become a poet, and such of his produc-
tions, composed at that season, as have been pre-
served, exhibit the delicate appreciation of the grace-
ful II0W and music of language for which his poetry
was afterwards so highly distinguished. lie entered
the college of Glasgow in 1 791, already a ripe scholar
in Latin and Greek — an unwonted circumstance
among the young students of our northern univer-
sities; and there he had tiie high privilege of study-
ing under Richardson, the talented and elegant
inofe.>sor of humanity, and Young, one of the most
enthusiastic Cirecians and acconijilished scholars of
the day. Tlie example of the latter was not lost
upon the congenial mind of his pupil ; and the poetical
translations which Thomas Campbell produced at
this period, as class exercises, from the McJca of
luiripides, as well as other Cireek poets, showed not
only his mastery of the language in which they wrote,
but the power he already' possessed over his own.
Some who are alive can still remember the pleasure
with which Professor Young, in his college prelec-
tions, was wont to advert to these translations, and
tile pupil by whom they iiad been produced. Even
in original poetry, also, Campbell was at this period
distinguished al)ove all his class-fellows, so that, in
1793, \\\i I\h-ni on Description obtained the prize in
the logic class, although it was composed four years
previous, and wlien he had not passed the age of
twelve. Besides being distinguished as a poet and
scholar at college, he was also well known as a wit
and satirist, and his lampoons were as much dreaded
as his lyrics were admiretl; while his mots were so
j)lentiful, that the usual morning question of the
students was, "What has Tom Campbell been say-
ing?" Being of a slim delicate figure, and fond of a
]ilace near the class-room fire before the professor
had entered, but finding it generally surrounded by
a phalanx of Irish students, through which he could
not break, he used often to disperse it, by causing
liieir attention to be directed to some new roguish
effusion he iiatl written on the wall, which was cer-
tain to >end them all scampering to the place of in-
scriinion. On one of these occasions, hearing that
he had just written a libel against their countrv,
they rusheil away from the blazing grate in fervent
wrath to the ]icncilled spot on the wall, and read,
not in rage, but with roars of good-humoured
laughter: —

" \'.iN. Hi'ieriii. co'lnrnti^
Suinniuni Ihnium in pitatocs!"

The great choice of life, wlicther as to occupation
or princii)Ies, is often determined bv >ome incident
so minute as lo escape notice. And such was tlie
case with Thomas Cam]. hell. In connnon with
most youthful minds, lielore their cla>sical impres-
sions have come in contact with tlie stern realities of
evcn,--day life, his wliole heart was witli Greece an<l
Rome, with Brutus and Cassius, with liben\aiul the

enemies of op])ression. \Yith him, as with others,
all this might have faded away like a <Ircam of boy-
hood, but for an event that indelibly stamped these
feelings upon his nund, and made them become the
regulating princii)les of his after-life. It was now
the season wheti the example of the French revolu-
tion w.as at its height, so that even the grave and
solid intellect of Scotland iiecame giddy for a moment
in the whirl; and the trials of Muir, Palmer, Gerald,
and others, showed how narrowly our country- had
escaped the establishment of a convention modelled
upon that of France. While these trials were going
on, the young poet felt an impatient longing to visit
Edinburgh, and witness the proceedings; to which
his affectionate mother assented. He wa.s to travel
to the metropolis and return on foot, a j<nirncy of
eighty-four miles; and to defray the expenses of such
a pilgrimage, he thought himself richly furnished by
the sum of 5^., which she gave him for the ])ur])osc.
He reached Edinburgh with a light fo<jt an<l buoyant
heart, and repaired to the parliament-house, where
the trial of Gerald was going on; and it was easy for
an imagination such as his to convert the eloquent
and impassioned culprit at the bar into a patriot of
the old heroic ages, jileading less for his own life ,
than the liberties of his counti"y. "Gentlemen of 1
the jury," said Gerald, at the close of his appeal, ■■
"now that I have to take leave of you for ever, let
me remind you that mercy is no small part of the duty
of jurymen; that the man who shuts his heart on the
claims of the unfortunate, on him the gates of mercy
will be shut, and for him the .Saviour of the world
shall have died in vain." Campbell was deeply
impressed by these thrilling words, and the universal
unbreathing silence of the multitude that li>tened;
and his emotion at last found vent in the exclama-
tion, "By heavens, sir, that is a great manl" "Ay,
sir," replied the man beside him, apparently a decent
tradesman, to whom the remark was addressed, "he
is not only a great man himself, but he makes every
other man great who listens to him." Camjiliell
returned to Glasgow, a sadder at least, if not a wiser
man, and, to the astonishment of his companions,
his jokes and flashes of merriment were now laid
aside. He had imbibed those impressions in behalf
of freedom, and tliat hatred of oppression, which
burst forth so indignantly in the Picasurcs of Hope —
that ran like an electric gleam through the whole
extent of his subsequent protluctions — and that
finally, at his opened grave, called forth the tears
of luihappy Poland, represented by the weeping
group of her children who stood over it. He was
now, and ever after, to be the poet of liberty.

When Camiibell reached the age of twenty, lie
had completed five sessions at the university ot
Glasgow, during the greater part of which he had
been obliged, through the mercantile lo->e- ot liis
father, to contribute to his own support iiy g;\ing
lessons in Latin and Greek as a ]irivaie tutor, l.-ng
lietore this jieriod he had endeavoured to make
choice of a professit)n, but hail been unaMe to settle
U])on anv; law, medicine, merchandi--e. tb.e ehv.:\h.
had successively ju'esented theniselve--. ati 1 been
eacii in turn abandoned. Ahea.!}'. li''N\eser. the
idea of literature as a ]ir'>fe-sio:i ha^i .^c::r:cd to
him; and he was now in E<'in!>'.ir^'!i iu-^-"t:.v.:r.4 with
the jiublishers of the day, and stii;.. at.i..; iitin-iil, in
the meantime, by the dradgei)' "f triNatc f.r.tion,
until some path'eould be struLk o-.;t !y l.t- own
talents, or some otter maiie to l;::;i I y a;i J! ;;:-.:.i!r,;h
bookseller. P>ut e\e!i now. a!-o. lie w.i- e:r.; !■ 'Ned
u]ion the PUaMifos of It'.':, aa.i l-;ni:it^ tho-e
beautiful episodes ^A tlte w. -rk wl.iJ: I'ecar.ie all
the br;''luer and more attr,;Ct:\e ::i c -p.-e^ :t;enee of ■

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

the darkness that beset him. Such, at this period,
was the condition of the younjj aspirant for literary
and poetical fame. If to this the following sketch
of him, by a lady, be added, the picture will be
complete: — "Mr Campbell's appearance bespoke
instant favour; his countenance was beautiful, and
as the expression of his face varied with his various
feelings, it became quite a study for a painter to
catch the fleeting graces as they rapidly succeeded
each other. The pensive air which hung so grace-
fully over his youthful features gave a melancholy
interest to his manner, which was extremely touch-
ing. But when he indulged in any lively sallies of
humour, he was exceedingly amusing; every now
and then, however, he seemed to check himself, as
if the effort to be gay was too much for his sadder
thoughts, which evidently prevailed." "And now,"
he says of himself, "I lived in the .Scottish metropolis
by instructing pupils in Greek and Latin. In this
vocation I made a comfortable livelihood as long
as I was industrious. But the P!casures of Hope
came over me. I took long walks about Arthur's
Seat, conning over my own (as I thought them)
magnificent lines; and as my Pltasiircs of Hope got
on, my pui)ils fell off." At last the work was
finished and published, and the celebrity which it
reached was sufficient to compensate the author for
all his ])ast anxieties. In fact, it took the public
mind by storm ; and while commendation in all its
forms was exhaustjd in lauding it, the universal
wonder was, that such a poem should have been
produced by a youth not more than twenty-one years
old. Several of the most distinguished of the Edin-
burgh literati had already been jjrepared to estimate
its merits from quotations which they had heard
from the manuscript. But with those who were not
thus forewarned, the first sight of the work was irre-
sistible. Among these was the learned and accom-
plished Dr. Gregory, who, in stepping into the shop
of Mr. Mundeli, tlie pul)lisher, saw the volume,
fresh from tiie press, lying on the counter. "Ah!
what have we here?" he said, taking it up; "tlie
Pleasures of Hope.''' lie looked between the uncut
leaves, and was so struck with the beauty of a single
passage that he could not desist until he had read
half the work. "This is poetry," he enthusiastically
exclaimed; and added, "Wliere is the author to be
found? I will call upon liim immediately." The
promise of the professor was quickly fulfilled, and
from that period he became one of Campbell's
warmest friends and admirers.

Having thus e--.tabiished for himself a high reputa-
tion by his first attemi)t, and being still in the oj^en-
ing of life, Thomas Campbell was impatient to see
the world, and resolved, for this purpose, to take a
trip into some fijreign country. The ])roceeds of
his work had furni^^hed him with the means, and
therefore he had only to select the route of his pil-
grimage. His choice settled upon Ciermany, al-
ready become famous in Scotland by its rising litera-
ture, and the works of Wic-land, .Schiller, and
Goethe. He crossed <jver to Hamburg, where his
fame had already preceded him, so that he received
an enthusiastic welcome from the l)^iti^!l residents
of that mercantile city. He soon found, hr)wever,
that he had stumbled unexjiectedly ui)on the f)Ut-
posts of a great and momentcnis war, so that he was
obliged to direct his course accorrling to its move-
ments. But such was the rapidity of the J-'rench
armies, that even an unencumbered traveller could
scarcely avoid them; and on his arriving at Katisbon,
war was raging round its suburbs, and, finally, the
French within its gates. Thus Canqibell found
himself in a situation that falls to the lot of few-

poets; he was likely to be the witness, as well as the
eulogist and recorder, of great military achievements.
From the ramparts close to the Scotch monastery,
he witnessed the conflict that gave to the French
the possession of Ratisbon, and thus describes the
spectacle in a letter to his brother: "Never shall
time efface from my memory the recollection of that
hour of astonishment and expended breath, when I
stood, with the good monks of St. James, to over-
look a charge of Klenau's cavalry upon the French
under Grenier. We saw the fire given and returned,
and heard distinctly the sound of the French pas-de-
cliarge collecting the Imes to attack in close column.
After three hours, awaiting the issue of a severe
action, a park of artillery was opened just beneath
the walls of the monastery, and several drivers that
were stationed there to convey the wounded in spring-
waggons were killed in our sight." In a subsequent
account of the event, he adds: — "This formed the
most important epoch in my life, in point of impres-
sions; but those impressions at seeing numbers of
men strewn dead on the field, or, what was worse,
seeing them in the act of dying, are so horrible to
my memory that I study to banish them. At times,
when I have been fevered and ill, I have awoke from
nightmare dreams about these dreadful images."

Amidst these fluctuations produced by the war,
the poet's rambles were brief and irregidar. He re-
turned to Hamburg, visiting Leipsic and a few other
towns in his course northward, and finally settled
for the winter at Altona. During his residence near
the historic and picturesque banks of the Danube,
he had composed, or revised for the press, fourteen
poetical productions, of which, however, only four
were ultimately published. His well-known deli-
cacy, not to say fastidiousness of taste, will suffi-
ciently account for this reticence. Altona was soon
no safe residence, on account of Denmark's secret
alliance with France; and the appearance of the
British fleet off the Sound gave sudden warning to
our traveller to provide for his safety. He therefore
embarked in a small trading vessel bound for Leith;
but in consequence of a chase from a Danish priva-
teer, Campbell was landed at Yarmouth, to which
the vessel fled for shelter. A trip to London natu-
rally followed; and for the first time he visited the
mighty metropolis, little guessing, as he paced along
its apparently interminable streets, that he should
afterwards see this vastness doubled. After a short
stay in the capital, where his Pleasures of Hope was
a ])assport to the best of London society, he directed
his course homeward. Even yet the inconveniences
of his visit to the seat of war had not ended. "Re-
turning to Edinburgh by sea," he writes in his me-
moranda of iSoi, "a lady, passenger by the same
shij), who had read my ]ioems, but was personally
unaccjuainted with me, told me, to my utter astonish-
ment, that I had been arrested in London for high
treason, was confined to the Tower, and ex]iected
to be executed! I was equally unconscious of hav-
ing either deserved or incurred such a sentence."
He found, however, on reaching Edinlnirgh, that
this ridiculous re]K)rt was no matter to be laughed
at, for it was already buzzed through the streets of
the northern ca])ital, and had reached the ears of
his anxious mother, who now resided in the city.
It was a wild ])eriod of rumour and suspicion; and
he found that tlie fact of his having messed with the
French officers at Ratisbon durmg the armistice,
been introduced to the gallant Morcau, and sailed
as fellow-passenger with an Irishman of the name
of Donovan, had been amplified into a plot con-
certed between himself, Moreau, and the Irish at
Hamburg, to land a French army in Ireland. He

THOMAS CAMPBEI.l..

\it

waited upon Mr. Clerk, the sheriff of Edinburgh, to
refute this report, and testify his loyalty at head-
quarters ; but here he found, to his astonishment,
that the sheriff i)elieved in his guilt, and that a war-
rant was issuetl for his apprehension. This was in-
tolerable, and Campbell could not help exclaiming,
"Do I live to hear a sensible man like you talking
about a boy like me conspiring against the British
empire?" He offered himself for a strict examina-
tion previous to being sent to prison, and the inquisi-
tion was held amidst an array of clerks ready to
note down his answers. A box of letters and papers
which he had left at Yarmouth to be forwarded to
Kdmburgh, but which had been seized at Leith, was
at the same time brought forward, opened, and care-
fully examined. But the contents soon put all sus-
picion to the rout : nothing in the whole collection
could be found more treasonable than Vi; A/arifu-rs
of Enghind, which was already prepared for the
press, with a few others of its afterwards distin-
guished brethren. "This comes of trusting a Ham-
burg spy!" cried the discomfited sheriff; for it seems
that a rogue in Hamburg had been manufacturing
for the credulity of his employers on this side of the
water such treason as he could not find ready-made,
and had treasured up Campl)eirs movements there
as a fit groundwork for his ingenuity. The whole
inquest ended in a hearty laugh and a bottle of
•wine.

On returning to Edinburgh, Campbell found that
instant action was necessary. His father had died
during his absence in Germany; his widowed mother,
now old and frail, was in necessitous circumstances;
and his three sisters were all invalids under the
maternal roof It was also such a period of scarcity
an<l mercantile depression over the whole island,
that the prices of the common necessaries of life
were nearly doubled, so that famine-riots, popularly
called meal-mobs, became the order of the day
among the lower classes. Urged by present emer-
gencies, he betook himself, in the first instance, to
the precarious resources of miscellaneous authorship,
until something more permanent could be adopted.
This latter opportunity seemed to occur from an in-
vitation he received from Lord Minto to visit him
in London; and on CampbelTs repairing thither, in
1S02, he was employed by his lordship as private
secretary, and afterwards as travelling companion
to Scotland. During this temporary absence from
Edinburgh he had composed LochicVs Warning and
the Battle of Hohcnlindcn. This, in the estimation
of modern authorship, will appear to be verj- slow
progress; but even in the most depressed period of
his circumstances, his aim was to write for immor-
tality, so that every expression was carefully con-
sidered, and every line touched and retouched, be-
fore it could satisfy that most severe of all critics —
himself Even that striking line —

" Coming events cast their shadows before,"

had cost him a whole week of study and anxictv.
Jiut who will say that the price of such a stan/a was
too hi_u'h. Writing of the poet to a friend at tills
time, Telford, the celebrated engineer, asks, "Have
you seen \\\> Lochid ' He will surpass everything
ancient or modcrn^your Pindars, your Drydens,
.and y.uir '.Irays.'" A >imilar feeling, but in a more
poetical fashion, wa-> expressed of its merits by Mrs
Dugald .Stewart, wife of the di>tinguished philoso-
pher. When the i)i>et road it to her in manuscrijit,
she listened in deep >i!ence, and when it was finished,
she gravely rose, laid her hand \\\>on his head, and
said, "This will bear another wreath of laurel vet,"
alter which she retned to her seat without utteiir.g

another word. "This," said Campbell, "made a
stronger impression upon my mind than if she had
spoken in a strain of the hjftic-st panegyric. It was
one of the principal incidents in my life that gave me
confidence in my own powers."

After having lalxjured for some time in fugitive
articles for the newspai)ers, and the compilati(jn of
history for the bookseller^ of Edinburgh, by which
he managed to secure a respectable temporary liveli-
hood, Campbell once more repaired to l.ondon. A
poet by choice, he was now a j)rose author from
necessity, and the British metroi)olis he knew to
be the best mart in which his literar)' commodities
could find a ready sale. Here, then, he was em-
jdoyed fagging, as he informs us, fijr ten hours a-day,
and purloining the opportunity for calls and recrea-
tion from the hours of sleep. At this time, also,
he published the seventh edition of the I'Uasurcs of
Hope, and several of his smaller pieces, in a quarto
volume, which brought him such a profitable return
as to relieve him from all his pecuniary end;arrass-
ments, as well as his anxieties about the future.
This happy deliverance he forthwith proceeded to
signalize in a fitting manner, by selecting for himself
a jjermanent home, and a partner to gladden it. He
married one who had been the object of his youth-
ful admiration nine years before, and had latterly
become the object of his more matured affecti(jn>.
This was Matilda Sinclair, daughter of his mother's
cousin, a gentleman who had formerly been a wealthy
merchant and provost in Greenock, and was now a
trader in London. The prudent father demurred at
the thought of bestowing his daughter upon one who,
kinsman though he was, and now of high reputation,
was still nothing more than a poet. It was indecl
a perilous venture; but the ardour of the young
couple overpowered the old man's scruples, and
wrung from him a reluctant assent. They were
married on the loth September, 1803. It was a
poetical imion, for Campbell's whole fortune at this
time amounted to the sum of ^^50; but he had fifty
thousand pleasures of hope in perspective, and wa-
therefore rich in his own imagination. At length
he became a father; and here we cannot refrain Irom
quoting his own account of feelings .-o common ti>
every fiither at the arrival of his first-born, but which
Campbell, in a letter announcing the event, has de-
scribed with such -beauty and tenderness: — "Our fir.-t
interview was when he lay in his little crib, in the
midst of white muslin and dainty lace, prepared I'V
Matilda's hands long before the strangers arrival.
I verily believe, in spite of my partiality, that lovelier
babe was never smiled upon by the light of heaven.
He was breathing sweetly in his first sleep. 1 dur>t
not waken him, but ventureti to give him one ki>s.
He gave a faint murmur, and opened his little azure
lights. . . . (Jli, that I were sure he would
live to the days when I could take him on my knee,
and feel the strong plumpness of chddhood waxii.g
into vigorous youth 1 My poor boy I shall I h.ave
the ecstasy of teaching him tlioughts, and knowicige,
and reciprocity of love to me? It is lu'l'l tn venture
into futurity so far. At present, hi-~ loveiy I.f.le lace
is a comfort to nie; his lip> breathe tl;at fragrance
which it is one of the lin-e!ie>t kavir.c.-^e^ i>i i;a;i;re
that she has given to infant — a swc
more delightful than ail tb.e trea-i;
What a<iorahle beautie- nf Cd ar. i :
we live in without knowit-.g! 1 f av
seemed to tliink an intar.t liea-.it.:u
there -ecms to be a lieauty in t!;e e.
infancy, which i^ n.it iiiieri'T t" th.t
childhood —e-^iiecially wlicti they -iee;
excite a more tender ti.;;n "l etr.uti'j

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312

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

the tremulous anxiety we feel for a candle new
lighted, whith we dread going out." Such was an
event, which, though an important era in the life of
every man, is especially so in that of a poet; and
such is the description, which none but a poet, and
that of the highest order, could have so embodied.
To our thinking, the above quotation may take its
place in the highest rank of Campbell's poetical pro-
ductions.

A happiness like this was not to be enjoyed with-
out a due mixture of life's cares and anxieties; and at
this period the income of the poet for the support of
such a home and family consisted of the proceeds of
his daily literary toil, which was so severe as seriously
to injure his health. He had not, indeed, that slap-
dash facility of writing which characterizes most of
tliose who follow literature as a profession; nor could
lie, when the liours of study were ended, abandon
the subject of his tlioughts as lightly as the man of
business can leave his shop or counting-house, when
lie shuts it up for the evening, and repairs to tiie en-
joyments of his fireside. Instead of this, the fastidi-
ous taste that abode with him through life, made
him slow in the selection of ideas, as well as
scrupulous in their expression; and thus, when the
price of his labour was to be estimated by bulk, his
toil was scarcely half paid. One of his resources at
this time, in addition to periodical literature, was an
engagement in the Stnr newspaper, which produced
him four guineas a-week. At this time, also, he was
willing to eiulure expatriation for the advantages of
a permanent living; so that, when a regency in the
university of Wilna had become vacant, he sent his
name to the Russian minister as a candidate. But
jiere his sentiments in favour of liberty, and his
svmpathy for Poland, which he had expressed in the
Flcasures of Hope, intervened to damp the ardour
of his application, which miglit otherwise have been
successful. After having established himself in
autliorship as a profession, he removed from London
to Sydenham, wiiere he resided for the next seven-
teen years; and it was here, during the first summer
after his removal, that, amidst many articles written
for the Philosophical Magazine and the Star, upon
every uncongenial subject, agriculture not excepted,
he published "Lord UUiri's Daughter, "the "Soldier's
Dream," the "Turkish Lady," and the " Battle of the
Baltic." But for one so delicately organized both in
mind and body as Campbell, the daily hard work
which he had to encounter was so exhausting that
his health gave way; and in his letters at this period,
we fmrl him laljoiiring under fits of gloomy despond-
ency, alternated by attacks of sickness. To add also
to his cares, the sole support of his aged mother,
and partially of his sisters, was still devolved upon
him, so that he had to maintain two houseliold estab-
lishments, the one at Sydenham, and the other at
iiiliiii)urgh. But just when it seemed inevitable that
he must break down under the (hnible jiressure, re-
lief was at hand. Some unknown but highly influen-
tial friend had interjiosed with royalty itself in his
Ijchalf, and the result was a pension of ;^200 per
annum conferred by his majesty u]K)n the Bard of
Hope. His application of this munificent boon was
truly honouralile to the poet's heart and memory; for,
after reserving only a portion to himself, he- allotted
the remainder to the support of his mother and
sisters.

Four years went onward at Sydenham under th(;sc
improved circumstances, but still the ncce--.sity for
continued exertion was little abated; for the ])ension,
comfortable as it looked in the abstract, underwent
such mutilation, through fees of office and taxation,
that it reached him in the shape of ^140, while out

of this he paid an annuity of £']0 to his mother.
The comfort to be derived from it depended more
upon its permanency, than its specific bulk. He
therefore continued his toil, amidst alternate fits of
lassitude and sickness. His contributions to the
Star, which consisted chiefly of translations from
foreign journals, occupied him four hours a-day, and
the remainder of his time was filled up by a History
of the Keign of George III., in three volumes, for
which he had contracted with an Edinburgh publisher
before he left Scotland; and with his Specimens of
the British Poets, a compilation in which the selec-
tion of materials for extracts, as well as the composi-
tion of biographical notices, cost him abundance of
labour and anxiety. All this, however, was for
mere daily subsistence, not future fame; and even to
keep up tlie reputation which his first work had pro-
curetl him, it was necessary to follow it with one of
at least equal excellence. To this necessity he was
far from being insensible; and therefore, amidst his
seasons of intermission, he had devoted himself wit'i
all the ardour of a first and undiminished love to the
production of Gertrude of IVyotiiing, which at length
was published in London in 1809. It was much
that it should have fully sustained the fame that had
been acquired by the Pleasures of Hope; but it did
more — it evinced equal poetical power, with a more
matured judgment and better taste. Jeffrey, that
prince of critics, who had seen the work while pass-
ing through the press, thus characterized its excel-
lencies:— "There is great beauty, and great tender-
ness and fancy in the work, and I am sure it will be
very popular. The latter part is exquisitely pa-
thetic, and the whole touched with those soft and
skyish tints of purity and truth, which fall like en-
chantment on all minds than can make anything of
such matters. Many of your descriptions come
nearer the tone of llie Castle of Indolence than any
succeeding poetry, and the pathos is much more
graceful and delicate." After this commendation,
which lias been fully borne out by the admiration of
the public for nearly sixty years, the talented critic
introduces the emphatic "but," and proceeds to
specify the faults which he found in Gertrude of JVyom-
ing; and these, also, were such as the world has
continued to detect. It consisted too much of finished
episodes rather than a continuous poem. The lan-
guage was still over-laboured, as if he had "hammered
the metal in some places till it had lost all its duc-
tility." These were faults, or blemishes, so insepar-
able from the mind of Campbell that they were part
and parcel of his intellectual existence, and he could
only have aliandoned them by relinciuishing his indi-
vidual identity. After this affectionate chastisement,
Jeffrey adds, "Believe me, my dear C, the world
will never know how truly you are a great and
original poet, till you venture to cast before it some
of tlie rough pearls of your fancy. Write one or twc>
things without thinking of publicaticm, or of what
will be thinight of them, and let me see them, at
least, if you will not venture them any farther. I
am more mistaken in my jirognostics than 1 ever was
in my life, if they are not twice as tall as any of your
full-dressed children." In the same vcjlume were
published several smaller poems, some of which had
previously appeared before the public. Among these
were "Lochiel" and " Ilohenlinden," the fnst charac-
terized by the Edinluirgh Kcvie^o as tiie most spirited
and i)oetical denunciation of woe since the days of
Cassandra, and the second as the only representation
of a modern battle which possesses either interest or
sul)limity; and "Ye Mariners of England," and the
"P.attle of the Baltic," two songs that have justly
ranked their author as the naval Alcceus of Britain.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

313

In a subsequent edition of Gertrude, which appeared
in the foiiowinLj year, the volume was enriched by the
addition of "O'Connor's Child," the best, perhajjs of
all his minor poems. Its origin was in the highest
degree poetical. A little flower called "love-lies-
bleeding," grew in his garden, and the sentiments
which it inspired, as he looked at it in his morning
walks, gathered and expanded into the most beauti-
ful of his ballads.

With a new task thus ended, relaxation was neces-
sary; and with such an increase to his poetical repu-
tation, it was natural that the society of Campbell,
on re-entering the world, should be courted with
renewed eagerness. Amidst the many introductions
to the most distinguished of the day, there were two
that gave him especial pleasure: the one was to Mrs.
Siddons, the "Queen of Tragedy;" the other, to
Caroline, Queen of Great Britain. He was now also
to appear in a new literary capacity. This was as
a lecturer on poetry at the Royal Institution, a task
for which perhaps no poet of this period, so prolific
of distinguished bards, was so well qualified. He
commenced this course on the 24th of April, 18 1 2,
and had the gratification not only of numbering
among his audience some of the most illustrious in
the literary world, l^ut of being crowned with their
approbation. There was indeed only one dissenting
voice that made itself be heard at the third lecture.
"At the most interesting part," he says, "a storm
of thunder, lightning, and rain came on.~ The
window above me was open, and the rain poured
down on my paper as it did on Leander in the Hel-
lespont. The lightning had given me an electrical
headache, and the thunder, aided by the pattering
rain, being my competitor in my endeavours to gain
the public attention, it required all my lungs to obtain
a hearing." His lectures were so popular in London,
that he resolved to repeat them in Edinburgh; but
this purpose he could not at present find time to
execute. The peace of 1814, that threw Paris open
to the world, enabled Campbell to accomplish the
design of visiting that v/onderful city, which he had
entertained in 1802, but was prevented from executing
by the sudden renewal of war. He accordingly
crossed the Channel, one of many thousands of
visitors, and, amidst all the marvels of Paris, nothing
seems to have delighted him so much as the Louvre.
The great masterpieces of ancient art seemed to liurst
upon him like the creations of another world, and
made him shed tears of mingled awe and deliglit.
In describing, immediately afterwards, the effect they
jiroduced on him, although he tells us he was no
judge in statuary, yet we at once see he was more —
he was a poet, feeling the inspiration of a kindred
spirit manifested in a different department of their
common art. Of the Apollo Belvidere he says,
"Oh how that immortal youth in all his splendour,
majesty, divinity, llashed upon us from the end of
the gallery! He seems as if he had just leaped from
the sun." His visits, which were made to the Louvre
m company with Mrs. Sidtlons, were of too tran-
sporting a character to be exclusively repeated, and
llierefore he gladly had recourse to the theatres, con-
certs, and coiiversaziimes, the promenades, and public
spectacles, with wliicli th.e great metro]iolis of earth's
]-)leasures is pervailed as its living princijile. " But
still," lie adds, "after the Louvre, I know scarcelv
anything that is fjuite transcendent." .Vfter nearly
two months that were sjieiit well and hapjMly in
Paris, Campbell returned fresh witli new sensations,
that continued to animate him for years, and resumed
his necessary studies at ."Sydenham. In 1S15 an event
also hajipened to alleviate the necessity of continual
toil, and brigliten tlie pro>Mccts ot his future life.

This was a legacy bequeatlied to him by his High-
land cousin, ^I 'Arthur Stewart of Ascot, wliich,
though nominally not more than ;^5oo, was increased
to nearly _^5ooo, through his share in the unappro-
priated residue becjueathed to the legatees by the
testator.

The practice of public lecturing had now become
so congenial to the mind of Campbell, and his course
had been so popular, that he repeated it in Liverpool,
Birmingham, and Edinburgh, to numerous and de-
lighted audiences. The merits of these lectures on
Poetry are now familiar to the ])ublic, as they were
afterwards published, as well as his Specimens of the
British Poets, in which the germs of his prelections
were first displayed. In 1820 he was enabled to
revisit Germany with his family, and after a trij), in
which the romantic scenery of the Rhine, and the
distinguished literary societies of Germany, were
enjoyed with equal pleasure, he returned with fresh
zest to England and his literary engagements. The
most important of these was the editorship (jf the
A'lTi' Monthly Ma^^azine, which had been offered him
on the most liberal terms. It was a wholly new task,
and therefore he was anxious to gather from his more
experienced literary friends such advice as might
direct him in his course. .Some of these admonitions
could not have been ver\- gratifying to a mind so
sensitive and enthusiastic as his. In a letter written t<j
him by the Rev. Sydney Smith upon the subject, that
witty divine thus lectures him: "Rememlier that a
mag. is not supported by papers evincing leit and
genius, but by the height of the tide at London
Bridge, by the price of oats, and by any sudden
elevation or depression in the price of boiling ]5ease.
If your mag. succeeds, it will do so as much by the
diligence and discretion you will impress upon your
nature, as by the talents with which you are born. "
The Magazine, however, acquired a new imj^iulse
from his superintendence; and, among his own con-
tributions, the poem entitled 7 he Last Man, one of
the happiest of his productions, was universally
applauded. While thus employed, his Theodcrie
ajipeared at the end of 1S24. The following year
Campbell started the plan of the London University,
which he calls "the only im]iortant event inh;>lilc's
little history," and jntrsued the object w ith a hfe-and
death earnestness; and, aided by the practical minds
of Brougham and Hume, the project, after much
condict, was brought to a successful termination.
So earnest, indeed, did he labour in the whole affair,
that, not contented with the experience he had .already
acquired of (ierman colleges, he also travelled to
Berlin, to study whatever was excellent in the univer-
sity of the Prussian capital, and transjtlant it into
London. And well did he evince his entliu--iasm f t
the improvement of our national education b}- un'ier-
taking such a journey, for, althougli not more thr^n
forty-eight years of age, he was alreaily a weakly u!d
man. His indeed had lieen a ]ireman;re decay; ai!
the more, perhaps, because lie had enjovLl a ] re-
cocious intellectual manhood. But e<ir.e.-i:;-n re-
warded him in return with one ol tlie li.^!;'-'. <;'--
tinctions, and the most gratefal to tl;e irr.iid 01
Camiibell, which she had to l>e-io\v. In 1:;- fww
alma mater, the univer-ity oi ( iI:isl,-o\\ . a eaiiva.-^
had for some time iieen 1,'oing nii to eie^i ..:::i to tix-^
honoured olTice of lori-reet-r: and i:i tl;e \v inter ol
1826, the students, by \vho;n the e'.e.Moii :~ ina-Ie.
had been so unaniino;:s in tlieir eli -ic ■. t!.a: l.eNva-
aj-ipointed to tlic olViee liy ur.a-.iav. -u- v -le ot tlie
"lour nation-." X< 'f di^ ! tl;c 1^' >n^ -;;r c. '-iferre' 1 uj < .n
him stop l^ere; f>r. in the t^iiouin^ year, and aNo
the one after. It'- a;-:'-intment wa- renewe'i l-y the
sulfra-es ^A llic stu le!:;-. lie %Na- thu- -'.tee t:mes

314

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

successively lord-rector of the university of Glasgow,
a repetition unusual among the holders of that high
academic office. But, amidst all this distinction, the
mind of the poet had much to grieve and try him.
Of his two sons, the younger had died in childhood,
while tlie elder, his first-born, who had opened such
a fountain of tenderness within his heart, had for
years been in a state of lunacy, and was obliged to
be kept in confinement. He was thus even worse
than childless. In 1826, also, his affectionate wife
Matilda, in whom he had possessed so congenial a
partner, died, and he found himself alone in the
world. The A\-7V Monthly Miigazinc, too, that had
prospered so greatly under his care, and been a
comfortable source of emolument, passed from under
his management by one of tliose unlucky accidents
to which periodical literature is especially exposed.
A paper was inserted by mistake in its pages, with-
out having been subjected to his editorial examina-
tion, and as the article in question was offensive in
the highest degree, Campbell in 1S30 abandoned the
AIas;aziitt', and a salary of ;[^6oo ]ier annum which
he derived from it. Soon after this, an event of a
public and political nature moved liim still more
highly than any pecuniary loss could have done.
This was the sanguinary capture of Warsaw in 1831,
and the national miseries witii which Poland was
afterwards visited. He had embraced the cause of
that most injured and most afflicted of tlie nations
with a poet's enthusiasm; and now lie predicted the
final result of its wrongs with a poet's prophetic
prescience. His words upon the subject are well
worth considering — for are they not even at the pre-
sent day, after a lapse of more than thirty years,
undergoing their fulfilment? "All is over now; and
a brave nation is thrust a second time, assassinated,
into her grave. Mysterious are the ways of Heaven!
We must not question its justice — but I am sick,
and fevered with indignation at Germany, for suffer-
ing this foolish Emperor of Austria; he fears letting
his people taste a little freedom, more than resigning
his own freedom to Russia, for he will soon be the
very vassal of tlie inhuman Sclaves, which will be
worse for him than if lie had a free parliament under
his nose — and so also will the King of Prussia be
henceforth! All continental Europe, I distinctly
anticipate, will be enslaved by Russia. France and
Austria will worry each other till they are exhausted;
and then down will Russia come on all the south of
Europe, with millions and millions, and give law
and t!ie knout both to Germany and France." It is
gratifying to add that when Campbell's heart was
thus occupied, he diil not, like too many, witluiraw
from the throng, that he might brood in solitude
over the luxury of sensibility. Instead of this, he
spoke, wrote, declaimed upon the miseries of Poland,
pictured them in poetry and in jirose, appealed
against them in companies of every political shade
of belief, exerted himself to make all foci that, in-
stead of being a mere party c|uestion, it was tlie
common cause of justice, honour, and humanity;
and, to evince his sincerity, bestowed liberally, not
only of his time and labour, but also of his money,
in behalf of the Polish sufferers, at a season when
money was the commodity wliich he least could
s[)are. And his la!)f)urs were not in vain. He
awoke a deep sympathy in belialf of Poland where-
ever his influence extended, and succeeded in asso-
ciating the Polish committee in London, wliich fjr
years has been so successful in relieving thousands
of the expatriated.

While employed in these avocations, the literary
duties of Campbell still continued to be of a varied
character. After his editorship of the Xcw Monthly

Magazine had ceased, he was employed in the same
capacity in the Mdropolitan; and subsequently his
attention was occupied with letters and pamphlets
in support of the London University, and upon the
subject of education in general ; with reviews on
works of classical history and fiction; and with a
wide and laborious correspondence in French,
German, and Latin, which employed him four hours
every morning. To these, also, was added his Life
of Mrs. Siddons, a work to which he devoted him-
self with all his characteristic enthusiasm, and finished
in 1833. Thus, even when his name was least before
the public, he was toiling generally in behalf of some
great benevolent object with an earnestness under
which his health frequently sank, and by which his
final decay was accelerated. Still, however, he was
earnest to produce one poem more — a closing work,
by which his poetical reputation should be confirmed,
and, if possible, extended — and as health was neces-
sary for this purpose, he resolved to make the clas-
sical tour of Italy, by which mind and body should
be braced alike for the contemplated enterprise. He
therefore passed over to Paris in 1834; and although
the .'\pollo Belvidere and Venus de Medicis were no
longer there, he found the same cheerful society, and
more than the same cordial welcome that had glad-
dened his visit of 1814. After having remained
several weeks in the French capital, he resumed his
journey, but with a very different destination; for,
instead of Rome, he now einbarked for Algiers.
His friends at home were as much astonished at the
tidings as if he had set off on a pilgrimage to Tim-
buctoo. But he had been poring in the king's library
at Paris over books and maps of ancient geography,
where the Roman city of Icosium, that had occupied
the site of Algiers, met his eye; and the late changes
by which this Mauritanian city of the waters had
been converted into the capital of a French province,
fired his imagination with pictures of the future civili-
zation of Africa. This was enough to decide him on
embarking at Toulon, on the nth .September, 1834,
and seven days after he was traversing the crooked
streets of Algiers, beneath the blaze of an African
sun. But he was still among French society, to
whom his literary reputation was a welcome jiass-
port; he even found one of the French officers there
einployed in a translation of his poems with a view
to publication. New health, nay, a new life itself,
was the reward of this journey, and he describes the
scenery and his own feelings in the following buoyant
style: "Oh, my old crony! it would do your heart
good to see your friend prancing gloriously on an
Arabian barb over the hills of tlie white city (for
Algiers, with all its forts, battlements, mosques, and
minarets, is as dazzling white as snow), and enjoying
the si:)lendid scenery. I have no words to convey
the impression it has made on me. I felt, on my
ride, as if I had dropped into a new jilanet! -Some
parts of the hills, it is true, are bare; but wherever
there is verdure, it has a bold, gigantic richness, a
brilliancy and odcnir, that mock even the ]n-<iduc-
tions of our hot-houses. Never shall I forget my
first ride! It was early morning: the blue Mediter-
ranean spread a hundred miles beneath — a line ot
flamingoes shot over the wave — the white city blazed
in the rising sun — the Arabs, with their dromedaries
loaded with fruits for the market, were coming down
the steeps. Around, in countless numbers, were the
wliite, sf|uare, castle-looking country-houses of the
Moors, inclosed in gardens; the romantic tombs of
tile .Marabouts, held sacred, and surrounded with
trees and flowers, that are watered with a perjietual
sjiring from marble fountains, where you see the
palm towering with its feathery tufts as high as a

THOMAS CAMPBELL

AXDREW CANT.

5»5

minaret. . . . Tlien the ravines that run down to
the sea! I ali^jhted to explore one of them, and
found a burn tliat mi^'ht have gurgled in a Scottish
glen. A thousand sweet novelties of wild llowers
grew above its borders; and a dear little bird sang
among its trees. The view terminated in the dis-
charge of the stream among the rocks and foam of
the sea, — •

' -Viul where this valley winded out below.
The luurmuring main was heard — and scarcely heard to
flow.'

In short, my dear John, I feel as if my soul had
grown an inch taller since I came here. I have a
thousand, and a thousand curious things to tell you;
but I shall keep them all bottled up to tell you in
Kludyer Street — unless the cholera comes over me.
If it should, I have at least had some happy days;
and the little void that I leave in the world will be
soon filled up."

These "happy days" were extended over the two
following months, during which the ]ioet made short
trips among the native tribes, and explored whatever
was curious in the past and present history of these
children of the desert, and the localities they oc-
cupied. And fortunately for him, the dreaded
cholera did not come, so that he revelled uninter-
rupted amidst the healthy and spirit-stirring enjoy-
ments of the new scenes into which he had entered.
The consequence was, that on his return to London,
his friends congratulated him on being several years
younger tlian when he had set out on his travels.
This healthy effect of a glowing Moorish atmosphere
was afterwards improved and made permanent by a
trip to his native north, that followed soon after —
an alternation that resembled the sudden plunge
from a iiot bath into a cold. But where was the
poem whicli was to be produced on his return? Let
no poet say to himself, "Go to, I will sit down on
such and such a day, and write an epic." History
and antiquity, past events and living realities, the
rich landscapes around Algiers and Oran, and their
stirring throng of Moors and Frenclimen, had so
wholly occupied his thoughts, that laying aside his
poetical purposes to an indefinite period, he devoted
himself to the preparation of Ldlcrs from Algiers,
which were afterwards published in two volumes.
His financial affairs, too, notwithstanding his hal^i-
tual disregard of money, and thoughtless facility in
parting with it, were in a more prosperous condition
than they had been at any former period. Such was
the tranquil course of his life from 1S35 to 1841,
when a return of his former ailments so stirred his
impatience, that without any previous notice or pre-
paration, he suddenly started for Weisbaden, expect-
ing to find a miraculous recovery among its Bnmnen.
Such, indeed, was his hurry, that he forgot to \>xci-
vide liimself with money, so that on arriving at tlie
baths, he was oljliged to write to a friend in London,
commissioning him to enter his house in \ictoria
.Square, take out all the money he found there, and
after remitting him a portion, to lodge the rest at his
banker's. It was truly marvellous that such a man
should liave money to leave behind him! Fortified
with this authority, his friend, accom]ianied by a
lawyer, went to (^■am])!>eirs house, opened the press-
door in his jjcdroom. wjiich did not seem to l)e even
locked, and eonimence<l his exploration. Hut thougli
every shelf, (h-awer, cranny, every shirt-fold and
coat-pocket of tliis poetical chat)s was searched and
nimmaged. there was nowhere a token of money.
The lawyer was grievously scandali/ed, and talked
professionally of careless custody and burglar.-. .\t
length, when closing the pre^s-cloor in de>i\air, the
process was interrupted by the point of a red em-

broidered slipper, stuffed, as it appeared, with paper
matches for lighting candles, and on unrolling these,
they found that theap[)arently worthless papers con-
sisted of bank-notes to the amount of more than
Cyxsl By an inconsistency not unusual in human
nature, Campbell at this very period was gnmibling
at the rate of exchange in Weisbaden, where not
more than 19? dd. was given for an Knglish sovereign.
His stay was only for six weeks, and during this
period he composed the ballad of the Child and I find.
He published also I'lic Pilgrim of (Jlencot; with other
poems, in which the Cliild and J find, the Song of the
Colonists, and Afoonlii^ht, appeared for the fir>t time.
Unfortunately, however, the f'llgrim, notwith>tand-
mg its excellencies, was felt to be inferior to his first
productions, and was rated accordingly. But he was
no longer the same youthful si)irit that had jiroduced
the lUasurcs of Ifofe and Ccrtrudc of Wyoming.
Flashes, indeed, of his former self would stdl break
out from his poetry and conversation, but they were
the fitful irradiations of a once steady but now de-
parting sunshine. He had now reached the age of
sixty-six, and perhaps he had drawn too fervently
and fast upon the resources of a naturally delicate
constitution, to be otherwise than a feeble broken-
down man at such a period of life. To add also to
his distresses, the sale of his poems, which for some
years had produced him about ;^500 per annum, could
not now realize above _;i^6o or £~o. From the double
motive of health and economy, he resolved to make
his future residence in Boulogne, to which he re-
paired in July, 1843. His friends — and few had
more attached friends than Campbell — felt as if this
was a final departure, to be followed by no happy
return.

These mournful forebodings were too truly verified.
His constitution was already so old, and so com-
pletely exhausted, that no change of climate could
enable it to rally; and the winter of Boulogne, instead
of alleviating his ailments, only seemed to aggravate
them beyond the power of removal. Spring came,
and summer succeeded; but their bright sun>hir.e
only half lighted the curtained sick-room, and finally
flickered upon the death-bed of him who had so often
watched its changes, and delighted in its beauty.
But in his last hours he was not alone, for liesides
his affectionate niece, who attended him with a
daughter's solicitude, his bedside was solaced by tb.o
presence of Dr. Beattie, his faithtul friend, ]-.h\sician,
and biogra]:iher, who had crossed from London t >
Boulogne, to soothe the departing hours of his atTee-
tionate patient. Amidst such gentle gnardian.>hi]i,
by which every aid and alleviation was administered.
Thomas Campbell died without a struggle, and aj -
parently without pain, solaced to the last ni"nx;."
by the consoling portions of Scripture that were rea^l
to him, in which he expressed his earnest faith ai-.d
hope; and by the prayers, in which he joined in lock
and attitude when the power of speech had departe'l.
His death occurred on the 15th of June, 1S44. in the
sixty-seventh year of his age. The b. idy w;i~ rem >\c 1
from Boulogne to London, and ir.ierrul i;": N\f-'-
minster ,-\bbey; a handful (.)f earth Irom tile touii" 0!
Kosciusko, the Poli>li hero, tl.at li.id been treasure 1
for the pur]io-c, was thrown ir.to tr.c L;r.\ve ot the
poet who had written so eloquently and lal-onreil -o
much in behalf of Poland; and In^ a-he- iv w repo-e
in the neighl)ourho.)d of the m .:n;r.i-:.l-- erected to
Addison, Goldsmitli, and Slier:' ian.

CATsT, ANnRiw. a Pre-byterian preacher of
great vi^^'.nir and eloquence at tiie period of the
"second relorniation. In l6j;S lie wa- niini>;er of
Pitsligo in Aberdeendiirj. Unlike the generality

316

ANDREW CAXT.

of the clergy in that district of Scotland, he entered
heartily into the national covenant for resisting the
episcopalian encroachments of Charles I., and took
an active part in the struggles of the time for civil
and religious liberty. He was associated with the
celebrated Alexander Henderson, David Dickson,
the Earls of Montrose and Kinghorn, and Lord
Cupar, in the commission appointed in July, 1638,
by the tables or deputies of the different classes of
Covenanters, noblemen, gentlemen, burgesses, anil
ministers, to proceed to the nortli and endeavour
to engage the inhabitants of the town and county of
-Vberdeen in the work of reformation. The doctors
of divinity in the town had steadily resisted the
progress of reforming principles, and were greatly
incensed when they heard of this commision. They
fulminated against it from the pulpit; and the town
council, under their influence and example, enacted,
by a plurality of votes, that none of the citizens
should subscrilje the covenant. The deputies arrived
on the 20th of the month, and were hospitably re-
ceived by the magistrates; but they declined their
jiroffers of friendship, till they should first show their
favour to the object of their visit. Montrose, "in a
bold and smart sj^eech," remonstrated with them on
theilangerof Popisli and Prelatical innovations; but
the provost excused himself and his coadjutors by
])leading that they were Protestants and not Papists,
and intimating their desire not to thwart the inclina-
tion of the king. Immediately after their interview
whh the magistrates, the deputies received from ijie
doctors of tlie two universities a paper containing four-
teen ensnaring propositions respecting the covenant,
l^romising compliance should the commissioners re-
turn a satisfactory answer. These propositions had
been carefully conned over previously, and even
printed and transmitted to the court in luigland before
the arrival of the deputies. Tliey were sjicedily an-
swered by the latter, who sent llieir replies to the
doctors in the evening of the next day. Meanvrhile
the nobles applied to the magistrates for the use of the
l)ul])its on the .Sabbath following, for the ministerial
commissioners, but this being refused, the three min-
isters preaclied in the open air, to great multitudes,
giving pointed and poj^ular answers to the questions of
the doctors, and urging the subscription of the cove-
nant with such effect that 500 signatures were adhib-
ited to it upon the spot, some of the adherents being
]>er^ons of quality. On Monday the deputies went
iiut into the country districts, and althougli the
Marrpiis of Iluntly and the Al^erdecn doctors had
been at pains to pre-occupy tlie minds of tlie ]ieo])le,
yet the C(nenant was signed by al)out forty-four
ministers and many gentlemen. Additional subscrip-
tions awaited the de]iuties on their return to Aber-
deen, wliere they preached again as on the former
Sabbath; Init finding tliat theycDiild ])ro(luce no effect
upon tlie doctors of divinity whose jtrincijiles led
them to render im])!icit obedience to tlie court, they
desisted from the attempt and returned to Ivlinbiirgh.
In the suljsequent NovemI)er, Mr. Cant sat in tlie
celel)rated Cilasgow A>send)ly (of 1C3S), and took
]iart in tlie abolition of Episcopacy with the great
and good men whom the cri^^is of affairs had brought
together on tliat memorable occasion. In the course
of the procedure, tlie Assembly was occupied with
a ])resentati<jn to Mr. Cant to the jiastoral charge of
Newbattle: — "My Lord Lowthian ]iresented anesup-
])lication to the .'Vssemljlie, anent 'he traiis])orlation
of Mr. .\ndrow Cant from Pitsligo to Xewbotle in tlie
Presbitrie of Dalkeith. Moderatour (Ileiidei^on)
said — It would seeme reasonable that your Lordshi])
should get a favourable answer, considering your
(liliLrence and zeale in this cause above maiiv utlicrs,

and I know this not to be a new motion, but to be
concludit by the patron, presbitrie, and paroche.
The commissioner of lidinr. alleadged that they had
made an election of him twenty-four yeares since.
Then the mater was put to voiting — Whither Mr.
Andro Cant should be transported from Pitsligo to
ICdinburgh? And the most pairt of the Assembly
voited to his transplantation to Xewbotle; and so
the Moderatour declaired him to be minister at
Xewbotle."

From his proximity to Edinburgh in his new
charge, Mr. Cant was enabled to devote much of his
attention to public affairs, with which his name is
closely connected at this period. In 1640, he, and
Alexander Henderson, Robert RIair, John Living-
ston, Robert Baillie, and George Gillespie, the most
eminent ministers of the day, were a]3pointed chap-
lains to the army of the Covenanters, which they
accompanied in the campaign of that year. When
the Scots gained possession of Xewcastle, August
30, Henderson and Cant were the ininisters nomi-
nated to preach in the town churches. In the same
year the General Assembly agreed to translate Mr.
Cant from Xewbattle to Aberdeen. In 1641 we
again find him at Edinburgh, where public duty no
doubt often called him. On the 21st of August he
preached before Charles I., on the occasion of his
majesty's second visit for the purpose of conciliating
his Scottish stibjects. When the union of the cluirch
and nation, cemented by the covenant, was dislo-
cated by the tmhappy deed known as the Engage-
ment, in 164S, Cant, as might have been expected
from his zeal and fidelity, stood consistently by the
covenanting as now distinguished from the political
party. When General David Leslie was at Aber-
deen in Xovember, 1650, on an expedition against
some northern insurgents, he was visited by ^Messrs.
Andrew Cant, elder and younger, ministers of Aber-
deen, who, amongst many other discourses, told the
lord general, "that wee could not in conscience asist
the king to recover his crowne of England, but //e
thoiighte one /ciiigdoiiie migJtt serve Iiiin Ti'erey weill,
ajid one cro^vne was eitenelie for any one man ; one
kingdome being sufficient for one to reuuU aiul
governe" [Juj/Jhnr's Anna/s, iv. 161).

In the year 1660, a com]ilaint was presented to
the magistrates, charging Mr. Cant with having
published Rutherford's celebrated book, entitled Lex
A'ex, without authority, and for denouncing <?;/«-
iJiemas and impreeatious against many of his congre-
gation, in the course of performing his religious
duties. A variety of [iroceedings took place on this
cjuestion before the magistrates, but no judgment
was given; Mr. Cant, however, finding his situation
rather uniileasant, withdrew himself from his pastoral
charge, removed from the town with his wile and
family, and died aljout the year 1644.

A clergyman, named .Mr. Andrew Cant, sui)]X)scd
to have been son to the above, was a minister of
Edinburgh during the reign of Charles 11., and con-
sequently must have been an adherent of Episcopacy.
He was also princii)al of the university between the
years 1675 and 16S5. The same person, or jierhajis
his son, was deprived of his charge in Edinburgh,
at the revoluti(jn, and, on the 17th of October, 1722,
was consecrated as one of the bishops of the disestal)-
lished Ejiiscopal church in .Scotland. This individual
died in 1728.

How far it may be true, as mentioned in the
Speetator, that the modern word Cant, which in tlie
beginning of the last century was ajiplied to signify
religious unction, but is now extended to a much
wider inter]>retation, was derived from the worthy
minibter of Abertleen, we cannot pretend to tleter-

LORD CARDROSS DON'ALD CARGILL.

317

mine. The more probable derivation is from the
Latin cantiis, singing or chanting.

CARDROSS, Lord. Sa Erskine.

CARGILL, Donald, an eminent preacher of the
more iinc(jinpromising order of Presbyterians in the
reign of Charles 11., was the son of respectable
parents in the parish of Rattray, in Pertlisliire,
where he was born about the year l6lo.' We find
the following account of the state of his mind in
early life amongst the memoranda of Mr. Wodrow,
who appears to have written down every tradition
of the lathers of the church which came to his ears.'*
"Mr. Donald Cargill," says the pious historian,
"for some twenty or thirty years before his death,
was never under doubts as to his interest, anil the
reason was made known to him inane extraordmary
way, and the way was this, as Mr. C. told my
father. When he was in his youth he was naturally
hasty and fi-ry, and he fell under deep soul exercise,
and that in a very high degree, and f(jr a long time
after all means used, public ami private; ami the
trouble still increasing, he at length came to a po-.i-
tive resolution to make away with himselt", and
accordingly went out more than once to drown him-
self in a water, but he was still scarred by people
coming by, or somewiiat or other. At length, alter
several essays, he takes on a resolution to take a
time or place where nothing should stop, and goes
out early one morning by break of day to a coal-
})it; and when he comes to it, and none at all about,
he comes to the brink of it to throw himself in, and
just as he wa> going to jump in he heard ane auilible
voice from heaven, 'Son, be of cheer, thy sins be
forgiven thee,' and that stopped him, and he said

to , that he never got leave to doubt of his

interest. But, blessed be God, we have a more sure
word of prophecy to lean to, though 1 believe where
such extraordinary revelations are, there is aue in-
ward testimony of the ."spirit cleaving marks of grace
to the soul too."

We learn from other sources that Mr. Cargill, hav-
ing studied at Aberdeen, atul, being persuaded by
his fother to enter the church, became minister of
the Baruny ()ari.>ir in tilasgow, some time after the
division among the clergy, hi 1650. He continued
to exercise the duties of this situation in a very pious
and exemplary manner, until the restoration ot liie
Episcopal ciuirch, when his refusing to accept colia-
tion from tlie archbishop, or celebrate the king s
birth-day, drew upon him the attention of the autho-
rities, ancl he wai banished, by act of council, to the
country beyond the Tay. To this edict he appears
to have paid little attention; yet he did ni;t excite
the jealousy of the government till 166S, when he
was called before the council, and commanded per-
emjilorily to o!i>erve their former act. In Septem-
ber, 1669, upon his petition to the council, he was
])er:nitted to c ime to Edinburgh up'jn some legal
l)U'~incs>, but not to roide in the city, or t<.) approach
(JIa-gow. I-'or -ome }ears after this period he led
the iife of a held-preacher, subject to the con>iant
vigilance of the emi--aries of tlie government, trom
wliom he made many remarkal)le escajie--. So lar
from accepting the nidui^atCL- (jlVered to the i'rc-by-
terian clergv. he was one of that small body \\\v)
thought it their duty to denounce opeidy all wId
dill -o. In 1670 he ajijiearcd among-t tlie r.nfor-
tunate band which .-tooil f>rwardat iloihweil Bri'ige
in vain resistance t > an overpowering t\mni!y. ()n
this occasion he v.a^ wounded, but had tiie g.vid
fortune to make h;- <:-ca;.'e. Suli-e I'.'.eiit t > th:?

1 il jwu's Sjoti i\'cytU;cs. ■ \\..i'.i\s\ A::a:c::.i.

perif)d, he took refuge for a short time in Holland.
In the months of May ami June, 1680, he was again
under hiding in Scotland, an<l seems to have been
concerned in drawing up some very strong papers
against the government. He, and a distinguished
lay member of the same sect, named Henry Hall,
of Haughhead, lurked fjr some time about the shores
of the Firth of Forth alcove <^ueen>fern.-, till at
length the Episcopal minister of Carridcn gave notice
of them to the governor of lilackne^s, who, June 3d,
set out in search of them. This officer having traced
them to a public-house in Queen>ferry, went in, and
pretending a great deal of respect for Mr. Cargill,
begged to drink a glass of wine with him. He had,
in the meantime, sent off his servant for a party of
soldiers. The two fugitives had n(i'su>picion of tins
man's purpose, till, not choosing to wait any longer
for the arrival of his assistants, he attemi)ted to take
them prisoners. Hall made a stout re^i^>tance, but
was mortally wounded with the dog-head of a cara-
bine by one George, a waiter. Cargill, escaping in
the stniggle, though not without woun(l>, was re-
ceived and concealed by a neighbouring farmer.
He even fled to the soutii, and next Sunday, not-
withstanding his wounds, he preached at Cairn-hill,
near Loudoun. A paper of a very violent nature
was found on the person of the deceased Mr. Hall,
and is generally understood to have proceeded from
the ]3en of Mr. Cargill. It is known in history by
the title of the QtEENSFERRY Covenant, fnjm the
place where it was found. Mr. Cargill also ajipears
to have been concerned, with his friend Richard
Cameron, in publishing the equally violent declara-
tion at .Sanquiiar, on the 22d of June. In the fol-
lowing September, this zealous divine proceeded to
a still more violent measure against the existing
jiowers. Having collected a large congregation in
the Tor\vood, between Falkirk and ."Stirling, he
preached from I Corinth, v. 13, ami then, with-
out having previously consulted a single brother in
the ministry, or any other individual of his ]:'arty,
he gave out the usual fjrm of excommunication
against the king, the Duke of YcM'k, the Dukes of
^lonmout!^, Lauderdale, and Rothes, Sir George
Mackenzie, and Sir Thomas Dalzell of Binn-;. li;s
general reasons were their exertion.-- against the su] re-
macy of the pure church of Scotland. The Jtivv-
couucil felt that this assumption (jf ecclesiastical
authority was not oidy calculated to bring contempt
u])on the eminent jiersiius named, but tended to
mai'k them out as i-rojier objects f )r the vengeance
of the ignorant multitude; and they accordingly toi'k
Very severe measures against the offender. He wa-
intcrcommuned, and a reward of 5000 mcrks were
oiTerLcl for his apprehension. For several niomhs lie
continued to exercise his functions as a minister when
he couUl find a convenient opportunity; and maiiy
stories are told of hair-brea<ith escajes \\li;cii !.e
made on those occasions from the s'ldieis. Z'.vA
others sent in search of him. At lengtli. i:. May.
i 16S1, he was sei/ed at Covington in l,a::a:k-iiire.
I hv a person name'i Irving of Buiisliaw, u :: ■ tarne'!
I h:m to Lanark on hur-eback. with Iri- tcet '.;■- i v.U'ie:-
; the animars belly. Su.-n at'ter I'.e \\a- e-r i.i.ted to
j Gla-gow. and thence to L.ii:;: urg!;. where. ■•!! ti;e
I 26th of July, he was trie-l an<! c r.-ieu.i.t ; !■> -ut:er
j deatli iMr ii;L;h treas.m. lie wa- i;e\; .lay h:.:.^- '.
! and beheaded, his la~t ex;Te>si,.:> !■.:!- -:-,d.!e v.\
] their pietv to tile tenu- ■•t i.i- v.i;.';e ;.!■■. C.^:V-d i~
1 thus .le-cnbed bv W.- :i>'w. wii- bv le . ireai.- O'W-
t curred with him' in aii h> ^in;:;ne:-.;s: •'He ^^a~ a
I i>er-.ii of a verv det'p r-vi -i.a:-;> cxer.^e in 1:.- y u:h,
' and had a ver\- extra'.;- i.; ary..--a;c- tV^m i:._ .Vfer-
, war;- lieli\e; a ;:..?; ;.,:.; a:. -a re..-,;'...; .;:e, ai.vi

318

ALEXANDER CARLYLE JOHN DONALD CARRICK.

was a zealous and useful minister, and of an easy
sweet natural temper. And I am of opinion, the
singular steps he took towards the end of his course
were as much to be attributed unto his regard to the
sentiments of others, for whom he had a value, as to
his own inclinations."

CARLYLE, Ale.x.-\nder, an eminent divine,
was born about the year 1721. His father was the
minister of I'restonpans, and he received his educa-
tion at the universities of Glasgow, Edinburgh, and
Leyden. While he attended these schools of learn-
ing, the extreme elegance of his person, his manners,
and his taste, introduced him to an order of society
far above any in which such students as he generally
mingle, and rendered him the favourite of men of
science and literature. At the breaking out of the
insurrection of 1745, he was an ardent youth of four
and twenty, and thought proper to accept a conmiis-
sion in a troop of volunteers, which was raised at
Edinburgh for the purpose of defending the city.
This corps having been dissolved at the approach of
the Highland army, he retired to his father's house
at Prestonpans, where the tide of war, however, soon
followed him. .Sir John Cope having pitched his
camp in the immediate neighbourhood of Preston-
pans, the Highlanders attacked him early on the
morning of the 21st of September, and soon gamed
a decided victory. Carlyle was awoke by an account
that the armies were engaged, and hurried to the top
of the village steeple in order to have a view of the
action. He was just in time to see the regular
soldiers fleeing in all directions to escape the broad-
swords of the enemy. This incident gave him some
uneasiness on his own account, for there was reason
to apprehend that the victors would not be over kind
to one who had lately appeared in arms against them.
He therefore retired in the best way he could to the
manse of Bolton, some miles off, where he lived un-
molested for a few days, after which he returned to
the bosom of his own lamily. Having gone through
the usual exercises prcscriiicd by the Church of Scot-
land, Mr. Carlyle was presented, in 1747, to the
living of Inveresk, which was perhaps the Ijcst situa-
tion he could have obtained in the church, as the
distance from Edinljurgh was such as to make inter-
course with metropolitan society very easy, while, at
the same time, he enjoyed all the benefits of retire-
ment and country leisure. From this jjeriod till the
end of the century, the name of Dr. Carlyle enters
Irirgely into the literary history of Scotland; he was
tiie intimate associate of Hume, Home, Smith, Blair,
and all the otb.er illustrious men who flourislied at
this period. Unfortunately, though believed to
possess talents fitting him to shine in the very
highest walks of literature and intellectual science,
he never cndd l)e prevailed upon to hazard liimself
m competition with his distinguished friends, but
was content to lend to them the benefit of his assist-
ance and critical advice in fitting tlieir productions
for the eye of the world. In his clerical cliaracter,
.\Ir. Carlyle was a zealous modcyalc: and wiien he
had acquired some weigiil in the ecclesiastical courts,
was the bold advocate of some of the strongest mea-
sures taken by the (jencral Assembly for maintaining
the ascendency of his party. In 1757 he himself fell
under censure as an accomplice — if we may use such
an expression — of Mr. Home, in bringing fn'ward
the tragedy of Doii;^las. At the first jirivate rehearsal
of this play, Dr. Carlyle enacted the ]iart of Old
Norval; and he was one of those clergymen %\lio re-
solutely involved themselves in lire evil fame of tlie
author by attending the first rejirescntation. During
the run of the play, while the general public, on the

one hand, was lost in admiration of its merits, and
the church, on the other, was preparing its sharpest
thunders of condemnation. Dr. Carlyle published a
burlesque pamphlet, &\\\.\\.\q(S. Reasons why titc Tragedy
of Douglas should be Burned by /he Hands of the
Common Hangman; and afterwards he wrote another
calculated for the lower ranks, and which was hawked
about the streets, under the title, "History of the
Bloody Tragedy of Douglas, as it is now performed
at the theatre in the Canongate." Mr. Mackenzie
informs us, in his Lfe of Home, that the latter pas-
quinade had the effect of adding two more nights to
the already unprecedented run of the ])lay. For this
conduct Dr. Carlyle was visited by his presbytery
with a censure and admonition. A person of right
feeling in the present day is only apt to be astonished
that the punishment was not more severe; for, as-
suredly, it would be difl'icult to conceive any conduct
so apt to be injurious to the usefulness of a clergyman
as his thus mixing himself up with the impurities antl
buffooneries of the stage. The era of 1757 was
perhaps somewhat different from the present. The
serious party in the church were inconsiderately
zealous in their peculiar mode of procedure, while
the moderate party, on the principle of antagonism,
erred as much on the side of what they called liberal-
ity. Hence, although the church would not now,
perhaps, go to such a length in condemning the
tragedy of Douglas, its author and his abettors,
neither would the provocation be now given. No
clergyman could now be found to act like Home and
Carlyle; and therefore the church could not be called
upon to act in so ungracious a manner as it did to-
wards those gentlemen. Dr. Carlyle was a fond
lover of his country, of his profession, and, it might
be said, of all mankind, lie was instrumental in
procuring an exemption for his brethren from the
severe pressure of the house and window tax, for
which purpose he visited London, and was introduced
at court, where the elegance and dignity of his a])-
pearance are said to have excited both admiration
and surprise. It was generally remarked that his
noble countenance bore a striking resemblance to
the Jupiter Tonans in the Capitol. .Smollett men-
tions in ills Humphrey Clinker, a work in which fact
and fancy are curiously blended, that he owed to Dr.
Carlyle his introduction to the literary circles of
Edinburgh. After mentioning a list of celeln-ated
names, he says, "These acquaintances I owe to the
friendship of Dr. Carlyle, who wants nothing but
inclination to figure with the rest upon jiaper." It
may be further mentioned, that the world owes the
])reservation of Collins' fine ode on the superstitions
of the Highlands, to Dr. Carlyle. The .author, on
his death-bed, had mentioned it to Dr. Johnson as
the best of his poems; but it was not in his }K)sses-
sion, and no search hatl been able to discover a copy.
At last Dr. Carlyle found it accidentally among his
]")apers, and presented it to the R.o)al -Society of
lulinburgh, in the first volume of whose 'Transactions
it was published.

Dr. Carlyle died .August 25, 1805, in the eighty-
fourth year of his age, and the fifty-eighth of his
ministry. By his wife, who was a woman of superior
understanding and accomjilishments, he hail had
several children, all of whom died many years before
himself Dr. Carlyle published nothing but a few
sermons m\A jcux d\sf>rit, and the statistical account
of the ])arish of Inveresk in .Sir John .Sinclair's large
comiiilation; but he left behind him a very valuable
memoir of his own life and times, which has tsnlybeen
lately published.

CAERICK, John Do.nauj. This excellent writer

JOHN DONALD CARRICK.

3'9

in the comic and more humble departments of litera-
ture, was horn at Glasgow in April, 1787. His parents
being in limited circumstances, were unable to afford
him more than the elements of an ordinary education;
the rest he accomplished in after-years by his own
application and industry. Apparently he was brought
up to no particular trade or profession, for at one
time we find him employed in the office of an archi-
tect in Glasgow, and at another as a clerk in a
counting-house. As was natural for a bold in-
dependent spirit under such irregidar training, he
resolved to find or make a way for himself, and with
this view he in 1807 set off to London. It was a
daring adventure for a youth in his twentieth year, and
with only a few shillings in his pocket; the distance
was four hundred miles, and he resolved to travel
the whole way on foot. A sound constitution, light
heart, and active limbs enabled him to set at nought
those difficulties by which most people would have
been deterred; and after travelling all day upon
scanty fare, he was wont at night to lodge in some
cheap roadside alehouse, or Ijivouac on the leeward
side of a hedge, or behind the sheaves of a corn-field.
In this way he saw sights and learned lessons both
of men and things which books could not have
taught, and which he treasured in his memory for
future description. On reaching Liverpool half-
starved and wearied, and seeing a party of soldiers
beating up for recruits, he deliberated whether he
should end his journey at once by enlisting as a
soldier, or trudge onward to the metropolis. In this
dilemma, where both sides were ecpially balanced,
he had recourse to divination, and gravely throwing
his cudgel into the air, he resolved to fix his choice
by the direction in which it fell. The fallen staff
jiointed Londonward, and to London accordingly he
resolved to go. .\fter another journey as long and
toilsome as the first, he arrived at the ca]iital; and
such had been his frugality and self-denial that he
had still half-a-crown in his pocket.

On reaching London, John Carrick's first task
was to find employment; but although he offered his
services to several shopkeepers, his appearance was
so raw and his tongue so broadly .Scotch, tliat the
Cockney citizens were imwilling to give him a place
behind their counters. While employed however in
this cheerless cjuest, he stumbled upon a countryman
of his own, whose ears were charmed by the melody
of his Doric, and who forthwith took him into his
service. After circulating from one temporary en-
gagement to another, Carrick at last obtained, in
1S09, a situation in a house that dealt extensively in
StatTordshire pottery, and here he remained until iSi I,
when he returned to Glasgow, and opened a large
establishment in Hutcheson Street for the sale of
stoneware, china, &C., in which he continued nearly
fourteen years, until unforeseen reverses reduced him
to bankruptcy. His losses were also aggravated bv
a tedious and exjien^ive litigation, from whicli,
although his cliaractcr came out unsullied, it was
with pockets utterly cmjnied. Obliged to abandon
business on his own account, he became a travelling
agent chiclly in the West Highlands for two or three
Glasgow houses; hut this source of subsistence
having also dried up, he resolved to leave business
altogether, and devote himself wholly to the profes-
sion of literature. Nor wa-^ he so (.iisqualified for
this as his early education would seem to intimate.
He had seen much of s'iciety both Scotch and
English, both Lowland and Highland, chietly of the
humble and comic character, to which his powers (if
writing were best ail.-ipted; and by readiiig and stutly,
since the time of his hr-t arrival in London, he had
ac(juired a ready and \-i^<)r;)Us style of writirg. He

had also felt his way in this new and perilous
path by writing a Life of Sir IVilliam Wallace in
two volumes, published in Constable's Miscellavy,
which was favourably received by the public, and
producing certain songs and humorous sketches on
which his friends had set some value. His first en-
gagement, when this resf)lution was adoi)ted, was as
sub-editor of the Scots Times, a journal of liberal
principles then published in Glasgow, and its amusing
paragraphs of local fun and satire which he contn-
Inited, gave celebrity and circulation to the paper.
Afterwards he was employed as a regular contributor
to The Day, a literary newspaper published daily in
(ilasgow, and commenced in 1832, but which expired
after a short existence of six months. During the
same year appeared Whistle-Binkie, a collection of
Scottish songs chiefly humorous, and to this i)ublica-
tion Carrick contributed two of the most comic of its
articles, "The Scottish Tea Party" and ".\Ii-tcr I'eter
Paterson." In the following year he was offered the
nranagement of the Perth Advertiser, which he ac-
cepted. Great were the ho]ies of Carrick's friends
that this situation would be profitable and honourable
Ixjth to the editor and newspaper. His literan.-
talents were considerably above the common average,
his knowledge of the world and everyday life was
extensive and minute; and from ]iast experience he
was well acquainted with the mechanical details that
enter into the management of a journal. What
editor, therefore, could be better qualified to give
weight and respectability to a provincial newspaper,
and insure for it success? But these natural calcu-
lations were grievously disappointed by the reality.
Carrick might be sole editor of the Perth Advertiser;
but he had viceroys over him — a committee of man-
agement, to wit, composed of men far inferior to
himself in talent and judgment, but who revised,
mutilated, and altered his articles according to their
own good jileasure. This crowning indignity, whicli
authorship can least endure, was too much for the
]>roud and inde]5endent spirit of Carrick; and he
threw up his edilor>hip after he had held it eleven
months.

During this kind of annoyance \\hich decided him
to leave Perth, certain parties in the burgh of Kil-
marnock were on the look-out for an editor to a
newsjiaper which they were about to start in the
liberal interest; aiid Carrick's friends in (ila>gow.
who were aware of the state of matters in Perth, liad
powerfully recommemled him for this new aj^point-
inent. Their a]i]il:cation was successful, ancl Carrick,
leaving Perth in Lebruary, 1834, assumed liis edi-
torial duties in Kilmarnock. In a short time the
new-l)orn Kilinantoek youriial attested tiie excellence
of his management; its articles were vigiircius and
ixi]nilar, and the sale of the ]iaper was increasing:
i)ut unfortunately it was, like it> brother of Perth,
under a committee of management conip<i>eii of tin-
chief proprietors, an<l as there was a variety d! t.i~:i--,
opinions, and rivalries among them, \\h;!e er.eh
member wished his o\\-n to predominate, tlie .-if.-.a-
tion of the editor with .-ucli a divi'ied conel.'.ve w;--
lar from being easy or envialile. He l;a'! in.'.de r:.i
e-cape by lleeing from Perth ti.i K:lmar:invk; I'n the
contrary, he had only landed u;'on tl;e >ajne e\:l in
a more .aggravated torm. He wa- a!-^ le-- aMc now
to bear up against it. a- before lie Irtt I'erili. he had
been attlicted with neuralgic attack- in >■ iUie <'l the
nerves and muscle> of hi- ni.nuh an^i head, \\lricli in
Kilmarnock settled int.i c^i-.tirmel tic-.;. 'u'.iureux.
Uiuler the worry by which tlris ].ai;iiVd <ii<ea-e was
aggravated, he petitioned f^'r a <h.irt leave 'if r.lwcnce,
wlule his friend Mr. Weir c f the OV,.- .\'.-- Ar;us
(already a rising man in '.!:e i;terary worldj had e:.-

WILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

gaged to supply the leading articles for the Kil-
niantock Joiirital; but, contrary to every principle
of justice and humanity, his reasonable request was
refused by the managing committee. As no other
alternative remained to him, Carrick resigned his
editorship, and returned to Glasgow in January,
1835. During his stay in Kilmarnock, however, and
notwithstanding the annoyances of his position and
decline of health, his intellect had been as active as
ever: and besides the management of his newspaper,
he editorially superintended the first series of 'J7ie
Laird cf Loi^an, an admirable collection of Scotch
jokes and stories, of which a considerable nunibei" of
the best pieces were from his own pen. The work
was published in Glasgow in June, 1S35, where the
sensation it produced, and the popularity it estab-
lished, bore witness to the happiness of the plan,
and the good taste with which it was executed.
After the volume had issued from the press, Carrick
went to Rothesay in (|uest of that health which he
could no longer find; in that gentle climate he even
became worse; and, with the feeling which so often
prompts the dying man to return to his birthplace,
as if it were a privilege to die there, he came back
to Glasgow, and calmly awaited the inevitable cliange.
Even yet, however, he could make a momentary rally
for his beloved occupation, and write a few articles
for the Scottish Mo)tthly j\la:j;aziiic, a (ilasgow peri-
odical of brief duration; but it was the last flash of
the expiring lamp, and he died on the 17th of
August, I S3 7.

Of the character of John Donald Carrick, an
estimate may be formed from the events of his varied
life. Necessity made him an author, and a growing
liking confirmed his choice; while to fit himself for
such a task, the v.'orld was his only training school
and college. Both as a poet and prose writer, he
displayed considerable ability, and was always equal
to the literary situation he occupied; while his choice
inclined to the comic and mirthful, rather than to the
grave and sentimental, aspect of nature. The same
buoyant s])irit and love of the ludicrous which
directed his jien, also animated his conversation; and
while society sougjit his company, the wise and the
good were charmed with his merriment, which they
i'ound contagious, because it was just and observant,
but neitlier satirical nor offensive.

CARSTAIRS, William, an eminent political
.and ecclesiastical character, was born at the village
of Cathcart, in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, on
the nth of February, 1649. His father was Mr.
John Carstairs, descended of a very ancient family in
Fife, and minister in tiie Iligh-church of (llasgow,
where he had fjr his colleague the Rev. James Dur-
ham, well known for his Comiiu-ntayy on the Kc'^r/a-
tion and other learned and pious works. His
mother's name was Jane Muir, of the family of Glan-
derston, in tile comity of Renfrew. Giving early
inrlications of an uncommon genius, young C'arstairs
was by his father ])laced under the care of a .Mr.
.Sinclair, an indulged Presbyterian minister, wlio ai
that time kept a school (jf great celebrity at (Jrniiston,
a village in Fast Lothian. Under Mr. Sinclair,
in whose school, as in all schools of that kind at tlie
time, and even in the family, no language but Latin
was used, Carstairs acquired a ])erfect knowledge of
that language, with great fluency of exjires-ing him-
self in it, and a strong taste for classical learning in
general. He had also the good fortune to form,
among the sons of the nobility who attended tliis
celebrated seminary, several friendsliips, which were
of the utmost consequence to him in afier-life.

Havin'' completed his course at the school, Mr.

Carstairs entered the college of Edinburgh in his
nineteenth year, wdiere he studied for four years under
Mr. (afterwards .Sir) William Paterson, who in later
life became clerk to the privy-council of Scotland.
Under this gentleman he made great proficiency ia
the several branches of the school philosophy then in
vogue; but the tlistracted state of the country deter-
mined his father to send him to study divinity in
Holland, where many of his brethren, the persecuted
ministers of the Church of Scotland, had already found
an asylum. He was accordingly entered in the uni-
versity of Utrecht, where he studied Hebrew under
Leusden, and divinity under Herman Witsius, at
that time two of the most celebrated professors in
Europe. He had also an opjiortunity, which he
carefully improved, of attending the lectures of the
celebrated Gra>vius, who was at this time in the
vigour of his faculties and the zenith of his reputation.
Tlie study of theology, however, was what he made
his main business, which having completed, he was
licensed as a preacher of the gospel, but where or by
whom seems not to have been known by any of his
biographers. In all probability it was by some of
the classes of Holland. lieing strongly attached to
the Presbyterian system, in which he had been edu-
cated, and for adherence to which his father was a
sufferer at home, and himself, in a limited sense, a
wanderer in a strange land (for it was to avoid the
taking of unnecessary or unlawful oaths imposed by
the bishops that he had been sent by his father to
study at Utrecht), he naturally took a deep interest
in the affairs of his native country, and was early en-
gaged in deliberating upon the means of her deliver-
ance. On sending him to Holland by the way of
London, his father had introduced him by letter to
an eminent physician of that city, who kindly fur-
nished him with a letter to the physician of the
Prince of Orange. This latter gentleman, upon the
strength of his friend's recommendation, introduced
Carstairs to the Pensionary F'agel, who, finding him
so much a master of everything relative to the state-
of parties and interests in Great Britain, introduced
him to a jn-ivate interview with his master the jirince,
who was at once struck with his easy and polite ad-
dress, and with the extent of his political knowledtje.
This favourable opinion was heightened by subsequent
interviews, and in a short time nothing of consef|uenee
was transacted at his court relative to Great Ihitaiu
till Carstairs had been j^reviously consulted. Holland
had, from the first attempts of the British court after
the restoration to supjiress the Presbyterians, been
the general resort of such of the Scottish clergy as
found it impossible to retain their stations, antl they
were soon followed by numbers of their un!ia]i])y
countrymen who had vainly jierilled tlieir lives on
the fatal fields of Pentland and Bothwell, with the
principal of whom Carstairs coukl not, in the circum-
stances in which he was jjlaced, fail to become ac-
quainted. Being well connected, and in no way ol)-
noxious to the government, he seems to have been
selected both by liis expatriated c()unlr\"nien ancl by
the agents of the Prince of Orange, to visit Scotland
on a mission of observation in the year 16S2.

Nothing could be more hopeless than the condition
of .Scotland at this time. Her ministers were every-
where silenced: Cargill and Cameron, the only two
tliat remained of the intrejiid band tliat had so Ion:;
ke])t up tlie ]oreached gos])el in the fields, liad both
fallen, the one on the scalfold Ijy an iiiiqiiitous sen-
tence, the other on the open heath liy tlie liaiid of
violence. Her nobles were either the slaves of arbi-
trary royalty, or they iiad already expatriated thein-
s'-lves, or Were just about to do so; while the I)ody of
her }jeoi<le, Issachar-like, were crouching beneath

WILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

their burdens in the most hopeless dejection. Finding
no encouragement in Scotland, where the few indi-
viduals that felt any of the true aspirations of liberty
were seriously engaged in a project of emigration to
Carolina in North America, Mr. Carstairs determined
to return to Holland. He however, probably not
without instructions, took London in his way, where
he arrived in the month of November, 1682, at the
very time when Shaftesbury, Monmouth, Sydney,
Essex, Russell, Hampden, and Howard were engaged
in what has been called .Shaftesbury's Plot, or more
generally, from a forged story of a design to murder
the king and the Duke of York at a farm called the
Rye, possessed by Colonel Rumbold, the Ryehouse
Plot. These gentlemen were actuated by very dif-
ferent views. Monmouth had prol)ably no object
but the crown; Russell and Hampden were for re-
straining the prerogative, and securing the nation's
liberties, civil and religious; Sydney and Essex were
for restoring the republic; while Howard, a man
without principle, seems to have had nothing in view
but to raise a tumult, whereby he might by accident
promote his private interest. All of them, however,
agreed in soliciting the co-operation of those Scots-
men who, no longer able to subsist under the imposi-
tions of a tyrranous government, were about to trans-
port themselves to a distant and desert countr}'.
Most of tlie conspirators having some previous know-
ledge of Carstairs, he was employed to negotiate be-
tween the parties; and he was empowered by a letter
from .Sir James .Stewart, afterwards lord-advocate for
Scotland, to assure the Englisli conspirators that,
upon furnishing a certain sum of money for the pur-
ch.xse of arms and ammunition, the .Scottish refugees
in Holland were ready to co-operate with them Ijv an
immediate descent upon the west coast of .Scotland.
This letter he communicated to Russell and .Sydney,
secondmg its contents by a fervent eulogium upon
the intluence, the talents, and the particular merits
of Argyle, whose numerous vassals, extensive juris-
dictions, as well as his past sufferings, pointed him
out .IS the most proper person to head an insurrection
in that country. All this must have been self-evident
to the whole party ; yet they do not seem to have
been so cordial as might have been expected. Though
Carstairs ceased not to press the object of his misr^ion,
he was put off from time to time, till he was at length
told by .Shepherd, one of the subaltern conspirators,
that he had heard Sydney declare that he would have
nothing to do with Argyle, being well aware that,
whatever liis present circumstances might prompt him
to undertake, he was too strongly attached to the
reigning family and to the present government, b<jth
m church and state, to unite cordially with them in
their measures. .\t the same time, he was told both
by .Shepherd and Ferguson that the party were jealous
of .syihu'v, as driving a secret design of his own; and
Fergu>on hinted to Mr. tiarstairs that there might
be an easier mcth'Mi of attaining their point than by
an open reh-jllion, as by taking the lives of at most
two men they might spare the lives of thousands,
meaning thereby the a^sas>ination of tlie king and
the Duke of X'ork. Feeling himself insulted, and
the cause lii-graccd by such a proposal, Mr. Carstairs
told Ferguson that he and the men with whom he
was engaged tlior.glit themselves warr.inted, even
with arms in their hands, to demand, for redress of
their grievances, those constitutional remedies which
had l)een so often denied to their com;ilaints and re-
monstrances; hut they held it beneath them to adopt
any such mean and cowardly contrivances either
against the king or his briither. From that time
forward Ferguson never menti'ined any such thing in
his presence, nor did lie ever hear it allr.de'l to in his
VOL. I.

intercourse with any other of the party. Disgusted,
however, with their procrastination, he took his de-
parture for Holland, without carrying any message,
liaving refused to do so except it were a full com-
pliance with his demands.

Scarcely had he lan<led in Holland, than Shaftes-
bury found it convenient to follow him, not daring
to trust himself any longer in England; and by his
desertion, the remaining conspirators, finding their
connection with the city of Lcindon l)roken, saw it
the more necessar)- to unite with -Xrgyle and the re-
fugees abroad, as well as with the .Scots at home.
Sydney now droppeil all his objections, and letters
were immediately forwarded to Carstairs, requesting
him to come over, and an exi)ress was -ent down to
.Scotland, for his friends to come up, in order to a
speedy adjustment of an insurrecticjn and consen-
taneous invasion. In consequence of this, consulta-
tions were held among the refugees, .Argyle, Stair,
Loudoun, Stewart, and others, where it was proiiose<l
that the conspirators in ICngland should contribute
;^3o,ooo sterling in money, and looo horse, to be
ready to join .Vrgyle the moment he should land
upon the west coast of .Scotland. Mr. .Stewart was for
accepting a smaller sum of money, if so much could
not be obtained; but all agreed in tlie necessity of
raising the horse before anything should be attempted.
-Stair seemed more cold in the matter than the others;
but Arg)le having assured Carstairs that, so socjn as
the preliminaries were settled, he would be found
abundantly zealous, he consented to carry their jjro-
posals, and lay them before th. committee or council
that had been appointed by the consjiirators to con-
duct the business at London. \\'hen he arrived
there he was mortified to find that the difficulty of
raising the money now was as formidable an obstacle a~.
the opposition of .Sydney had fonnerly been. Russell
frankly acknowledged that the whole party could not
raise so much money; and begged that _;{^lo,ooo might
be accepted as a beginning, and even this was never
paid to .Shepherd, who was appointed cashier to t!ie
concern, nor was one single step taken for lev\ ing
the proposed number of troops ujjon tlie borders.
-Vfter having spent several weeks in London, Carstair-
became perfectly convinced, from the temper of the
men and their mode of proce<k!re. that the scheme
would come to nothing. This opinion he comn.uni-
cated to a meeting of his countrymen, where were
present I'aillie of Jervi-wood, Lonl Melvill, Sir John
Cochrane, the Cami'liells of Ccssnock, and (jtiiers.
recommending them to attend to their ov.n safety,
by putting an immediate stop to further preparations,
till their Ijrethren of England shoidd be better j're-
pared to join them. IJaillie of Jerviswood. tlie ni'ift
ardent of all his countrymen engaged in this enter-
l^rise, reflected bitterly upon tlie timidity of the
English, who had suffered their zeal to cvajiorate in
talk, when they might, by iir.^mptitui'.e of action.
have been already successl'id, and in-iste-l tlial the
.•"^cots should prosecute the undertaking by them-
selves. There was, no doubt, in this soir.ethirg very
heroic; but alas I it was vain, and he hmx.. t v.,.~
sjieedily brought t<.) confes- tl.at it wa- so. I; v, ,.-
.agreed to, JK.wever, l)y a!l that a c •ranraniw.-.:. n
should be made to their F.ngl>h t'li.:;:-. th.;!. i;i.h.-s
they were determined to act with more vig>.i:r. tliey
were not to expee't co-lj erati' 'U on ih.e iart(^l the
Scots any longer. In tiie nieair..n-.e ;!:ey w r^ -te to
their frieivis in Sci >thind, t-' s'.;-]'ci-.d thicir pepara-
ti^ns till further notice. Th;- v..;- a very ; r. ■; er and
wi-e determination; on.h,' it can-.e t^n., i.^.te. 1 he
Engli-h conspirator- had n • \\v:.-\ -i" :iT;--e. and
they h.ad no deci-i-n. Tl'.ey h..vi talked away the
time of action, and the wh ^e s.he:;;e v a- already

WILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

falling to pieces by its own weight. In short, before
they could return an answer to their Scottish brethren,
the whole was betrayed, and they were alone to a
man in the hands of the government.

The prudence of the Scots saved them in part;
yet the government got immediate information that
there had been a correspondence carried on with
Argyle by the conspirators, and Major Holmes, the
person to whom all Argyle's letters were directed,
•was taken into custody, having a number of the
letters and the cypher and key in his possession.
The cypher and key belonged to Mr Carstairs, who
had sent it to Monmouth only two days before, to
enable him to read a letter from Argyle, which, hav-
ing done, he returned it to Major Holmes, in whose
hands it was now taken. The Earl of Melfort no
sooner saw the cypher than he knew part of it to be
the handwriting of Carstairs; and an order was in-
stantly issued for his apprehension, as art and part
in the assassination plot. Though Mr. Carstairs was
conscious of being innocent as to this part of the plot,
lie had gone too far with the conspirators for an
examination on the subject to be safe either for him-
self or his friends. He therefore assumed a fictitious
name, and concealed himself among his friends in
Kent the best way he could. Being discovered, he
was suspected to be the notorious Ferguson, of all
the conspirators the most obno.xious to government,
and as such was seized in the house of a friend at
Tenterden, and thrown into the jail of that place on
the Monday after the execution of Lord Russell.
Here he continued for a fortnight, when orders came
for his being brought up to London, where he was
for some days committed to the charge of a mes-
senger-at-arms. During this interval Sir Andrew
I-'orrester brought him a message from the king in-
forming him, that though his majesty was not dis-
]iosed to believe that lie had any direct hand in
jilotting either his death, or that of the Duke of
York; yet as he had corresponded with Argyle and
Russell, he was convinced that he knew many par-
ticulars relative to the Ryehouse Plot, which, if he
would discover, with what he knew of any other
machinations against the government, he would not
only receive an ample pardon for the past, but the
king would also show him all manner of favour for
the time to come. If, however, he rejected this, he
was to abide by the consequences, which, in all
likelihood, would be fatal to him. His answer not
proving satisfactory, he was committed to close
custody in the Gatehouse, wliere he continued up-
wards (jf eleven weeks. During this time he was
often before the privy-council, but revealed nothing.
-Vt length, finding that he could obtain no favour
through the king, Init ujion dishonourable conditions,
he petitioned tlie court of King's Bench for his habeas
corpus, instead of which he received an intimation
that he was to be sent down to .Scotland within
twenty-four hours, to take his trial in that kingdom.
It was in vain that he represented it as a breach of
law to send him to Ijc triefl in Scotland for a crime
said to be committed in f^ngland. lie was sent off
next day with several others who were consigned
into the hands of the Scottisii jirivy-council, to be
tried for compassing the death of the king in London,
or at the Ryehouse, between London and New-
market. Among that unha])py number was a servant
of .\rgyle, of the name-of .Spence, who wa> instantly
brought before that most al)ominable trilnuial, tlie
l^rivy-council of .Scotland, where, because lie refiised
to take an oath to criminate himself, he was first ])Ut
to the torture of the boot, which he endured with
unshrinking firmness; then keju from sice]) u])war(is
of nine ni-'hts to 'ether — which not answering the

expectations that had been formed, steel screws were
invented for his thumbs, which proved so exquisite
a torment, that he sunk under it, the Earl of Perth
assuring him at the same time that they would screw
every joint of his body in the same manner till he
took the oath. Even in this state, Spence had the
firmness to stipulate that no new questions should
be put to him, that he should not be brought forsvard
as a witness against any person, and that he himself
should be pardoned. He then acquainted them with
the names of Argyle's correspondents, and assisted
them in decyi:)lieriiig the letters, by which it was
seen what Argyle had demanded, and what he had
promised to do upon his demands being granted;
but there ^\•as nothing in them of any agreement
being then made.

Carstairs, in the meantime, was laid in irons, and
continued in them several weeks, Perth visiting him
almost daily, to urge him to reveal what he knew,
with promises of a full pardon, so far as he himself
was concerned. On this point, however, Mr. Car-
stairs was inflexible; and when brought before the
council, the instruments of torture being laid before
him, and he asked by the Earl of Peith if he would
answer upon oath such questions as should be put
to him, he replied, with a firmness that astonished
the whole council, that in a criminal matter he never
would, but, if they produced his accusers, he was
ready to vindicate himself from any crime they could
lay to his charge. He was then assured, that if he
would answer a few questions that were to be put
to him concerning others, nothing he said should
ever militate against himself, nor should they ever
inquire whether his disclosures were true or false;
but he peremptorily told them, that with him, in a
criminal cause, they should never found such a de-
testable precedent. To the very foolish question
put to him, if he had any objections against being
put to the torture, he replied, he had great objec-
tions to a practice that was a reproach to human
nature, and as such banished from the criminal courts
of every free country. Here he repeated the remon-
strances he had given in to the council at London,
and told them that he did consider his trial a breach
of the habeas corf-us act. To this Perth replied, that
he was now in Scotland, and must be tried for crimes
committed against the state by the laws of that
country, had they been committed at Constantinople.
The executioner was now brought forward, antl a
screw of a particular construction a]iplied to his
thumb, with such effect, that large drops of sweat
streamed over his brow. Vet he was self-possessed,
and betrayed no inclination to depart from his first
resolution. The Earl of Queensl:)erry was much af-
fected, and after telling Perth that he saw tiie poor
man would ratlier die than confess, he ran out of the
council, ffillowed by the Duke of Hamilton, botli
being unable longer to witness the scene. Perth
sat to the last without betraying any synijitoms of
comj^assion for the sufferer. On the contrary, when
by his ex])ress command the executioner had turned
the screw with sucli violence as to make Carstairs
cry out that now he had squeezed the bones to
jiieces, the monster, in great indignation, told him
that if he continued longer obstinate, he hoped to
see every bone in his body scjueezed to ])ieces. I lav-
ing kept their victim under this cruel infliction for :in
hour and a half without effect, the executioner wns
ordered to ]iro(hice the iron boots, and a]i])ly them
to his legs; but, happily for Mr. Carstairs, the execu-
tioner, young at his trade, and composed of less stern
stuff than his masters, was so confused that he could
not fix them on. After repeated attemjits, he was
obliged to give it up, and the council adjourned.

^VILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

323

Torture having thus proved vain, the council once
more assailed him in the way of flattery, promising
liim an ample pardon for himself, and that he should
never be called in any court as a witness on any
trial; and tliey further stipulated that none of his
answers to the interrogatories to be put to him,
should ever be jiroduced in evidence, either directly
or indirectly, in any court or against any person
whatsoever. On these conditions, as they had al-
ready extracted from Mr. Spence and Major Holmes
nearly all that he could inform them of upon the
stipulated questions, he consented to answer them,
jirovided the promise made him was ratified by a
deed of court, and recorded in their books. He had,
however, scarcely given his answers, when they were
l)rinted and hawked through the streets, under the
name of Carstairi Confession. Had they been
printed correctly, less might have been said; but
they were garbled to suit the purpose of the ruling
])arty, which was to criminate jerviswood, on whose
trial Mackenzie the advocate read them to the jury
as an admiuicU of proof, without taking any notice
of the qualifications with which they were clothed,
tlie alleviating circumstances with which the facts
to which they related were accompanied, or the con-
tlitions upon wliich he delivered them. They were
so far true to their agreement, however, as to relieve
him from his confinement in a dungeon of the castle,
where he had remained for some months cut off from
all communicati(jn with his friends, and stniggling
under the infirmities of a shattered constitution. He
was also permitted to leave Scotland, on condition
that he should wait on the secretaries at London,
on his way to Holland. Milport being then at
court, he went to him and demanded a pass, which
he found no diftlculty in obtaining; but the king was
desirous to see him, and the secretar\' thought he
ought in duty to wait upon him, and receive his
commands. On stating, however, that, in such a
conversation with the king, he might be led to say
what might not be so honourable to some of his
majesty's servants in Scotland, the secretary made
out his pass, and he departed for Holland, wliere he
arrived in the end of the year 1684, or the beginning
of 16S5, only a few months before the death of
Cliarles H., and the accession of James \ TI.

This was by far the most important event in the
life of Carstairs, antl it is impossible to say how
much the human race may be indebted to his firm-
ness and his address on this occasion. He had, at
tliis very time, secrets of the greatest consequence
from Holland, trusted to him by the Pensionary
Fagei, of which his persecutors had no susjiicion.
Tiie discovering of these secrets would not only have
saved him from torture, but have brought him a high
rcwanl. and, had they been at that time discovered,
the glorious revolution might have been prevented,
and the-e kingdoms, instead of being the first antl
most exalted, as tiiey are at this day, been among
the lowest and most debased. The great anxietv
the Scottish managers were under to take tlie life
of IJaiUie, by implicating him in the Ryehouse
riot, seems so totally to have blinded them, that
they had no suspicion of the Hutch coimection.
which L'ar^t.iir^ was so a[>prehen>ive about, and
wliich he was >o >ucces-hil in concealing. ( )n his
return to Holland. William, fully apjireciating liis
merits, received him into hi^ family. a]>pointed him
one of his own chaplains, and at the same time pro-
cured him to be elected niini--.ter of the l-aiglish Pro-
testant congregation at l.eydeii. To the day of liis
de.ath William repo>ed upon the advice of C'aistair>
with the mo>t perfect confidence. He was now.
indeed, much better qualified than e\er for being

ser\'iceal)le to his illustrious patron. During his stay
in Britain he had had a fair ojjportunity of judging
of public men and public niea.surcs. He had not
only witnessed in others, but he had felt himself, the
severities of a Popish administration; and he saw the
universal alienation of all ranks from the system of
government they had adopted, and perceived that
the very methods fallen upon for stilling popular
clamour was only tending to its increase. The
narrow politics of the J)uke of York he had thor-
oughly i)enetrated, was aware of all the schemes he
had laid for enslaving the nation, and saw that the
tools with which he was w<jrking could easily Ix;
turned to his own destruction. ()f all these interest-
ing particulars he was admitted to give his sentiments
freely to the Prince of (Jrangc, who was no longer
at pains to conceal his aversion to the means James
was employing to restore the Catholic church. This
encouraged still greater numbers of suffering British
subjects to place themselves under his jirotection,
for the characters of whom his royal highness gene-
rally applied to Carstairs, and he was wont to re-
mark, that he never in one instance had occasion
to charge him with the smallest attempt to mislead
or deceive him. It cannot indeed be doubted that
he was made the channel of many complaints and
advices to William, which were never made known
to the public. Of these secret warnings the ])rince
had sagacity enough to make the best use, even
when he was to outward apjiearance treating them
with neglect, and Carstairs himself was in all pro-
bability not a little surjirised when he was summoned
to attend him on an expetlition to Great Britain.
.\otwithstandingall that has been spoken and written
and printed about it, we believe that William felt
very little, and cared veiy little, about the sufferings
of the British people; but he had an eye steadily
fixed upon the British crown, to which, till the birth
of a Prince of Wales, June lOth, 16SS, his wife was
the heir-apparent, and so long as he had the pro-
spect of a natural succession, whatever might be the
disorders of the government or the wishes of tl.e
people, he was not disjiosed to endanger his future
greatness by anything like a ]iremature attemjit to
secure it. The birth of the prince, however. ga\e
an entirely new aspect to his atTairs. He l)eIioved
now to embrace the call of the peojile, or abandon
all reasonable hopes of ever wearing that diadem
which he so fondly coveted, and by which alone he
could ever hope to carry his great ]ilaiis of European
policy into efiect. Ivpially wise to iliscern and
])romiit to act, lie lost not a moment in hesitation:
lie hastened his jM-eiiarations. and on the 19th ol
October, 16SS, set sail for Britain with sixty-five
ships of war, and 500 transjiorts. carrying upwards
of 15,000 men. The subject of this memoir accom-
panied him as his domestic chaiilain aboard his own
sliip, and he ha<l in liis train a numerous retinue o!
British subjects, whom the tyrar.ny of the time- lia'i
driven \.o Holland. ( )n the evening oi the -anie
day, the licet was rli-j.ersed in a treiiieii.i.nis liv.rri-
cane, and by the daw 11 of iiexi m>':r,;r.g r.ot iwo ..!
the whole tleet were to be seen ;"^et:'.er. < 'n ilie
third day William reluriie<-l to ]i'n. wi;!i . : ly i-^iir
shijis of war and forty trati-]" r:-. 1 lie ~h;' -n
winch he hini-elf saile-i ii.irr.iwly e-c.V|ed be:ng
wrecked, which was locked on by' - iiiie .i!--.;; !:;m
as an evil omen, nivl among !he re-; i >>" B'-aniet.
aflerw-.u-ds r.;d-,..]i of >.rii-bi::y. \\\\'' r._n.aik^'i '.hat
it seemed preile-iinel tiie}' sli^uli i".' I -e'. l""t ■ 11
luiglish ground. A few >l.-.y-. 1;- v. -'.er. c-iieited
tlic whoie lleet I'lxe ma-: .m t'le I -t '■{ No-
vember it sa.Ied a-aiii wilii a fair w:i:d; ?.v.'\ on
.Monday llie 5;!i, !::e li-'.';- v, ere -.ife'.y lai.dei r.l

324

WILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

Torbay in Devonshire, the English fleet all the while
lying wind-bound at Harwich. On the landing of
the troops, Mr. Carstairs performed divine service
at tlieir head, after which the whole army drawn up
along the beach sang the iiStii psalm before going
into camp. From this time till the settlement of
the crown upon William and Mary, Carstairs con-
tinued al)Out the person of the prince, being con-
sulted and employed in negotiating affliirs of peculiar
delicacy, and disposing of sums of money with which
he was intnistcd, in various quarters. "It was
during this interval," says his biographer, and the
editor of his state papers, the Rev. Joseph M'Cor-
mick, "that he had it in his power to be of the
greatest service to the Prince of Orange, nothing
being carried on relative to the settlement of Scot-
land which the prince did not communicate to him,
and permit him to give his sentiments of in private."
He was highly instrumental in procuring the settle-
ment of tlie Church of Scotland in its present Pres-
byterian form; whicli was found to be a matter of no
small difficulty, as tlie king was anxious that tlie
same system should continue in lioth parts of the
island. Carstairs has been often blamed for having
acceded to the king's wishes for maintaining patron-
age, and also for recommending that some of the
worst instnunents of the late monarch should be
continued in office, wliicli he did u]ion the plea tliat
most of them were possessed of iniluence and quali-
fications, which, if jiroperly directed, might be use-
ful under tlie new regime. It must be recollected,
tliat, at such a critical time, a man of Carstairs' poli-
tical sagacity was apt to be guided rather by what
was practically exjiedient than what was abstractly
proper. It is probable that Carstairs, who was un-
([uestionably a sincere man, was anxious to render
the settlement of tlic church and of the government
as liberal as he thought consistent with their stability,
or as the circumstances lie had to coiiten<l against
would permit. King William now took an oppor-
tunity of atoning to his counsellor for all his former
sufferings; he appointed Mr. Carstairs his chaplain
for Scotland, with the whole revenue of the chapel
royal. He also required the constant presence of
Mr. Carstairs about his person, assigning him apart-
ments in the palace when at home, and when abroad
with the army allowing him .({^500 a year for camp
equipage.

He was of course with his majesty at all times,
and by being thus always at hand, was enabled on
some occasions to do signal service l)oth to his king
and his country. Of this we have a remarkable in-
stance which happened in the year 1694. In 1693
tlie Scottish parliament had passed an act obliging
all who were in office to take the oath of allegiance
to their majesties, and at the same time to sign the
assurance, as it was called, N\]u-rcby they declared
William to be king dc jure as well as d,' fa'rlo. This
wa-. one of the fir>t of a long series of ()|)iiressive acts
intended secretly to ruin the Scottish church by bring-
ing her into collision with the civil auth'ii ities, and
in the end depriving her of that ])nitecli<in and coun-
tenance which she now enjoyed from them. This
act had been artfully carrieil througli the iiarlianient
by allowing a dispensing power to the ]irjvy-coinicil
in cases where no kiU)wn enmity to the king's ])re-
rogative existefl. \o lK)nest Presbyterian at that
time had any objection to King WillianTs title to
the crown; but they had insuperable objection^ to
the taking of a civil oath as a qualification fir a
sacred office. Numerous a]ii)lications were of conr-.e
made to the ]irivy-council for dispensations; but that
court, which had still in it a number of the old pei'^ •-
cutors, so far from complying with the demand, re-

commended to his majesty to allow no one to sit
down in the ensuing General Assembly till he had
taken the oath and signed the assurance. Orders
were accordingly transmitted to Lord Carmichael,
the commissioner to the Assembly, to that effect.
When his lordship arrived in Edinburgh, however,
he found the clergy obstinately determined to refuse
compliance with his demand, and they assured him
it would kindle a llanie over the nation which those
who had given his majesty this jiernicious counsel
would be unable to extinguish. Lord Carmichael,
firmly attached to his majesty, and aware that the
dissolution of this Assembly might not only be fatal
to the Church of .Scotland, but to the interests of his
majesty in that country, sent a flying ])acket to the
king, representing the difficulty, and requesting further
instructions. .Some of the ministers at the same time
wrote a statement of the case to Carstairs, requesting
his best offices in the matter. Lord Carmichael's
packet arrived at Kensington on a fiuenoon in the
absence of Mr. Carstairs, and William, who, when
he could do it with safety, was as fond of stretching
the prerogative as any of his predecessors, jieremp-
torily renewed his instructions to the commissioner,
and despatched them for Scotland without a moment's
delay. Scarcely was this done when Carstairs arrived ;
and, learning the nature of the despatch, hastened to
find the messenger before his final departure, and
having found him, demanded back the packet in his
majesty's name. It was now late in the evening,
but no time was to be lost; so he ran straight to his
majesty's apartment, where he was told by the lord
in waiting that his majesty was in bed. Carstairs,
however, insisted on seeing him; and, being intro-
duced to his chamber, found him fast asleep. He
turned aside the curtain and gently awakened him;
the king, astonished to see him at so late an hour,
and on his knees by his bedside, asked, with some
emotion, what was the matter. "I am come," said
Carstairs, "to beg my life !" "Is it possible," said
the king, with still higher emotion, "that you can
have been guilty of a crime that deserves death?"
"I have, sire," he replied, showing the packet he
had just brought back from the messenger. "And
have you, indeed," said the king, with a severe frown,
" )")resumed to countermand my orders?" "Let me be
heard but for a few moments," said Carstairs, "and
I am ready to submit to any ]umishment your majesty
sliall think proper to inflict." lie then ]ioiiited out
very briellx' the danger of tlie advice he had acted
U])on, and the consequences that would necessari!)'
follow if it was persisted in, to wliich his majesty
listened with great attention. When he had done,
the king gave him the despatches to read, after which
he ordered him to thn/W them into the fire, an<l
draw out others to ])lease himself, which he would
sign. This was done accordingly; but so many
hours' delay prevented the messenger from reaching
Edinburgh till the very morning when the Assembly
was to meet, and when nothing but confusion was
expected, the commissioner finding himself under
the necessity of dissolving the Assembly, and the
niini~-lers being determined to assert their own au-
thority independent of the civil magistrate. Poth
])arties were api)rehensive of the conseiiuences, and
l>otli Were hai)]iily relieved by the arrival of tlie mes-
senger with his majesty's letter, signifying that it uns
his ])leasure that the oaths should Ijc disjiensed willi.
With the exception of the act establishing Presbytery,
this was the most jiopular act of his majesty's govern-
ment in Scotland. It also gained Tilr. C'arstairs.
when his |'art of it came to be known, more cre<lif
with his biethren and with Presbj'terians in genernl
than perhaps any other part of his public procedure.

WILLIAM CARSTAIRS.

325

From this period down to the death of the king
there is nothing to be tokl concerning Carstairs but
that he continued still in favour, and was assickiously
courted by all parties, and was supposed to have so
much inthicnce, particularly in what related to the
church, that he was called Carijinal Carstaiks.

Having only the letters that were adtlressed to
him, witliout any of his replies, we can only conjec-
ture what these may have been. The presumption
is, that thoy were prudent and discreet. Though he
was so great a favourite with William, there was no
])rovision made for him at his death. Anne, how-
ever, though she gave him no political emi)Ioyment,
cuntinue<l him in the cha])lainship for Scotland, with
the same revenues he had enjoyed under her prede-
cessor. In the year 1704 he was elected jirincipal
of the college of Edinburgh, for which he drew up
a new and very minute set of rules; and, as he was
wanted to manage afl'airs in the church courts, he
was, at the same time (at least in the same year),
presented to the cinirch of Greyfriars; and, in con-
sequence of uniting this with his office in the univer-
sity, he was allowed a salary of 2200 merks a year.
Tliree years after this he was translated to the Higli-
church. Though so deeply immersed in politics,
literature had always engaged much of Carstairs'
attention; and he had, so early as 1693, obtained a
gift from the crown to eacli of the Scottish univer-
>ities of /300 sterling per annum out of the bishops'
rents in Scotland. Now that he was more closely
connected with these learned bodies, he exerted all
iiis inlUience with the government to extend its en-
couragement and protection towards tlieni, and tlius
essentially promoted the cause of learning. It has
indeed been said that from the donations he at various
times procured f >r the Scottisii colleges he was the
greatest benefactor, uniler the rank of njyahy, to
liiose institutions that his country ever produced.
The first (leneral Assembly that met after he became
a mini-.ter of the Church of .Scotland made choice of
him for moderator; and in the space of eleven years
he was four times called to fdl that office. From
iiis personal intUience and the manner in wliich he
was supported he may be truly said to have had the
entire management of the Cluirch of Scotland. In
leading the church he displayed great ability and
comprehensiveness of mincl, with uncommon judg-
ment. "He moderated the keenness of party zeal,
and infused a spirit of cautious mildness into the de-
liberations of the General Assembly.' As tlie great
body of the more zealous clergy were hostile to the
union of the kingdoms, it required all his influence
to reconcile tliem to a measure which he, as a whole,
apiiroved of as of mutual benefit to the two countries;
and although after liiis era the Church of Scotland
lost much of her weiglit in the councils of the king-
dom, she still retained her ropectability, and per-
haps was all the better of a disconnection with po-
litical affairs. When (Jueen Anne, am<Mig the Ia>t
acts of her reign, re.-tored the system of patnjnage,
he vigorously oppcjsed it; and, tliough unsuccesst'ul,
his visit to London al that time was of essential ser-
\ ice in securing on a stable ba>is the endangered
l:i)jrty of the cluirch. The ultra-Tory ininistr\-, hos-
tile to the rrototnnt interests of the>e realms, had
devised certain strong measures for curtailing the
jiower of the Cluirch of .Scotland, by discontinuing
lier assemblies, <.)r at lea^t by subiecting them
wholly to the nod uf the court. .Mr. Carstairs jire-
vailed on the a'lmiiiistration tualianiion the attempt;
and he, on ids part, piuini>ed to use all his inthience

We here quote frn
jcireJ in tlie cM/vli

iieriioirof Prinrip.U C',irst.iir<. which

to prevent the discontents occasioned by the patron-
age bill from breaking out into open insurrection.
It may be remarked that, although j)atronage is a
privilege which, if harshly cxercise<l, acts as a severe
opl>ression upon the i)eoi)le; yet, while justified so
far in abstract right by the support which the patron
is always understood to give to the clergyman, it
was, to say the least of it, more expedient to be en-
forced at the commencement of hast century than
perhaps at present, as it tended to reconcile to the
church many of the nobility and gentry of the country,
who were, in general, votaries of Lpiscopacy, and
therefore disaffected to the state and to the general
interests."

Principal Carstairs was, it may be supposed, a
zealous promoter of the succession of the house of
Hanover. Of so much importance were his ser^•ices
deemed, that George I., two years befjre his acces-
sion, signified his acknowledgments by a letter, and
immediately after arriving in England, renewed his
appointment as chaplain for Scotland. The last
considerable duty upon wliich the principal was en-
gaged was a mission from the .Scottish church to
congratulate the first prince of the house of Brunswick
upon his accession. He did not long survive this
period. In August, 1 715, he was seized with an
apoplectic fit, which carried him off about the end of
the December following, in the si.xty-seventh year of
his age. His body lies interred in the Greyfriars'
churchyard, where a monument is erected to his
memory, with a suitable inscription in Latin. The
university, the clergy, and the nation at large, united
in lamenting the loss of one of their brightest orna-
ments and most distinguished benefactors.

Carstairs was one of the most remarkable men ever
produced by this country. He appears to have been
born with a genius for managing great ]5oliiical un-
dertakings; his father, in one of his letters, expresses
a fear lest his ''/'in' Willie'" should become too much
of a public political man, and get himself into scrajies.
His first move in public life was for the emancipa-
tion of his country from tyrannical misrule; and
nothing coukl well etiual the sagacity with wIulIi
he conducted some of the most delicate and hazard-
ous enterprises for that jnirjiose. In consequence of
the triumjih of the princiides which he then advo-
cated, he became possessetl of more real inlluence in
the state than has fallen to the lot of many re>]'on-
sible ministers; so that the later jiait of his life pae-
sented the strangest contrast to the earlier, ^\'luu
is strangest of all, he jireserved through these vicissi-
tudes of fortune the same humble sjiirit and simjile
worth, the same zealous and sincere liiety, the same
amiable anil atTectionate heart. It fell to the lot 01
Carstairs to have it in his power to do much good;
and nothing could be said more emphatically in Ids
jiraise, than that he improved every opj'ortunity.
The home and heart of Carstairs -were constantly
alike o]>en. The t'ormer was the resort of all 01. icv^
of good men; the latter was alive to every bencticcni
and kindly feeling. It is related of Ii;ni, th.i:, al-
though perhaps the most efficient eiu-niy wliich ilic
l-qiiscoiial church of Scotland e\er l;.-.'i, !;e i,\i.i\;-ed
IX'i-petual deeds of charity tov.ards t!ir uni'-rir.r.ate
ministers of that communion \\ 110 \\cre 'iisj !.ui 'i at
the rev(jlution. The eflecl of ]i;s -ciierosity ;.. ;l;cm,
in overcoming ]^reiuiiice aud conc;l:a.!ir:g aiucf.on.
appeared strongly at Iiis k'.!;cial. Wl'.cii li> l""iy
was laid in the dust, two r.ien w ^ le ol 'st, rvc-1 to f.irn
aside from the rc^t of the C' ;:i; ai:y. ar.i. i-.n-ting
into tears, bewailed their iiraf.ial lo>-.. L pon ;n-
([uiry. it was fiuiiid tb.at tl-.e-ewere two n"n-ji;raiu
clergymen, whose familic- I'.a.l lce:i siippoited for a
I Considerable time by his lic^clactjj:;;.

326

ALEXANDER CHALMERS.

In the midst of all his greatness, Carstairs never
forgot the charities of domestic life. His sister, who
had been married to a clergyman in Fife, lost her
husband a few days before her brother arrived from
London on matters of great importance to the nation.
Hearing of his arrival, she came to Edinburgh to
see him. Upon calling at his lodgings in the fore-
noon, she was told he was not at leisure, as several
of the nobility and officers of state were gone in to
see him. She then bid the servant only whisper to
him, that she desired to know when it would be con-
venient for him to see her. He returned for answer
— iniDiediatcly; and, leaving the com])any, ran to her
and embraced her in the most affectionate manner.
Upon her attempting to make some apology for her
unseasonable interruption to business, "Make your-
self easy," said he, "these gentlemen are come
hither, not on my account, l)ut their own. They
will wait with patience till I return. \'ou know I
never pray long," — and, after a short, but fervent
prayer, adapted to her melancholy circumstances,
he fixed the time when he could see her more at
leisure, and returned in tears to liis company.

The close attention which he must have paid to
politics does not appear to have injured his literature
any more than his religion, though it perhaps pre-
vented him from committing any work of either kind
to the press. We are told that his first oration in
the public hall of the university, after liis installation
as principal, exiiibiled so mucli profound erudition,
so much acquaintance with classical learning, and
such an accurate knowledge of the Latin tongue,
that his hearers were delighted, and tlie celeljrated
Dr. Pitcairn declared, tliat when Mr. Carstairs began
his address, he could not help fancying liimself in the
forum of ancient Rome. In tlie strange mixed char-
acter which he bore througli life, lie must have cor-
responded with men of all orders; but, unfortunately,
there is no collection of his letters known to exist.
A great immber of letters addressed to him Ijy the
most eminent men of his time were preserved l^y his
widow, and conveyed through lier executor to liis
descendant. Principal M'Cormick, of -St. Andrews,
by whom they were published in the year 1774.

CHALMERS, Alexandkr, M.A., U.S.A. The
life of this laijorious literary workman is more re-
markaljje for untiring industry, and its immense
amount of produce, tlian for greatness or originality
of genius. He was born at iVl^erdeen on tlie 29th
of NIarch, 1759, ancl was the y<nmgest son of James
Chalmers, jirinter in Aberdeen, an accomplished
scholar, wlio established tiie fast newspajier that
existed in that town. Alexander, after comi)ieting
a classical education, continued his studies for the
medical profession; and, on finally being appointed
to ])ractise as surgeon in the West Indies, he left
Aberdeen in 1 777, to join the ship wiiicli was to
carry him to his destination. Put on rcacliing
Portsmouth, instead of steitjjiiig on Ixiard, he sud-
denly flew off to London. He liad either lost heart
at the thought of a resi< fence in tlie West Inches, at
that time one of the worst of exiles, or had suffdenly
t)ecome enamoured witii tfie cliarms of a literary life
in the metropofis. At ail events, tfiitfier lie went,
and although his line of existence was stretcfied out
nearly sixty years beyond this period, liis native city
saw him no more.

On entering I-ondon, Mr. Cfiafnicrs cfiinmenccd
as a contributor to the ])erio(lical press, amf f)ecaiiie
editor of the Public Led'^cr and London /'iickti. It
was a stirring and prolific jieriod for journalists, in
conscfpience of tlie American war; and so af)ly did
he exert himself, that he soon became noted as a

vigorous political writer. Besides his OM'n, he exer-
cised his talents in other established journals of the
day, the chief of which was the St. jfatncs' C/ironirh',
where he wrote many essays, most of them under
the signature of .Senex. He was also a valuable
assistant for some years to his felfow-townsman, Mr.
James Perrj', editor and proprietor of the Adorning
Clironich; who had come to London at the same time
as himself, and to whose newspaper Chalmers contri-
liuted racy paragraphs, epigrams, and satirical poems.
He was likewise a contributor to the Analytical
Keviciv, published by Mr. Johnson, and to the
Critical Kc7'icu<. As the last-named magazine was
published by Mr. George Rol)inson of Paternoster
Row, a close connection was established between
Mr. Chalmers and that eminent publisher, which
continued till the death of the latter, and was of
important service to both parties. Chalmers, who
lived almost wholly with his friend, assisted him in
the examination of manuscripts offered for pulilica-
tion, and also revised, and occasionally altered and
improved, those that were passed through tlie press.
Witfi most, indeed, of the princii)al ]5ublishers and
printers in London during fifty years Chalmers main-
tained a friendly intercourse, and of many of them
he has left interesting biographies in the ofjituary of
the Gentleman'' s Magazine, a favourite periodical to
which he frequently contributed. These literaiy
exertions, however, numerous though they were, and
extended over a long course of years, were as nothing
compared with his permanent labours as editor of
many of the most important works of British author-
ship; and it is by these, of which we can only give
a vei7 brief notice, that his merits are chiefly to be
estimated.

In 1793 he published a continuation ol \\\(t History
of England in Letters, two volumes. This work was
so well appreciated, that four editions successively
appeared, the last being in 182 1.

In 1797 he compiled a Glossary to Shakspeare — a
task peculiarly agreeable to a Scotsman, who finds
in the copious admixture of unpolluted Saxon exist-
ing in his own native dialect, a key to much that is now
obsolete in the English of the Elizabethan period.

In 1798 he published ^Sketch of the Lsle of Wight,
and in the same year an edition of Llie Rex'. yanies
Barclays Coniplele and U)iii'crsal English IJic-
tionary.

In 1803 he published a complete edition of the
British E.ssayists, beginning with the 7'atler, and
ending with tfie O/iscrz'er, in forty-five volumes.
The papers of this long series he carefully compared
with the originals, and enriched the work with biogra-
phical and historical prefaces, and a general index.

During the same year he produced a new edition
of .Shakspeare, in nine vofumes, with a life oi the
author, and al:>ri(lgment of the notes of Stevens,
accompanied with illustrations from the pencil of
Fusel i.

In 1S05 he wrote lives of Rol)crt Bums, and Dr.
Beattie, autlior of the Minstrel, whicli were pre-
fixed to their respective works.

In 1806 he Cffited Fielding's works, in ten volumes
octavcj ; Dr. Johnson's works, in twelve volumes
octavo; ^\'arton's essays; the Taller, Spectator, and
Guardian, in fourteen vofumes octavo; and assisted
the Rev. W. L. Bowles in his edition of the works
cjf Alexander Po])e.

In 1807 he edited Gi/>/'on's Decline and fall, in
twelve vofumes octavo, to whicfi lie prefixed a Lite
of the Autfior.

In 180S, and part of tfie following year, he selected
.and e(fited, in forty-five volumes, tfie poinilar work
known as H'alkers Classics.

ALEXANDER CHALMERS

In 1809 he edited Bolingbroke's works, in eight
volumes octavo. During this year, and the intervals
of several that followed, he contributed many of the
lives contained in that s]ilendid work, the British
Gallery of Contemporary Portraits.

In 1810 he revised an enlarged edition of The
Works of the Eii;e;lish Poets from Chaucer to Center,
and prefixed to it several biographical notices omitted
in the tirst collection. During the same year he
publi>iicd A History of the Colies^es, Halls, and Public
liuildiH.;s attached to the UniTersity of Oxford. This
work he intended to continue, but did not com-
plete it.

In I Si I he revised Bishop Ilurd's edition of
Addison's works, in six volumes octavo, and an
edition of Pope's works, in eight volumes octavo.
During the same year he published, with many
alterations. The Projector, in three volumes octavo,
a collection of original articles which he had con-
tributed to the Gentleman'' s Magazine from the year
1802 to 1809.

In 1812 he prefixed a " Life of Alexander Cruden"
to a new edition of Cruden^s Concordance.

During tiie last-mentioned year, also, Chalmers
commenced the largest and most voluminous of all
his literary labours, and the work upon which his
reputation chiefly rests. This was " The General
Bioi^raphical Dictionary, containing an historical and
critical account of the lives and writings of the most
eminent men in every nation, particularly the British
and Iri>li; from the earliest accounts to the present
times." The original work, publishetl in 1798, had
consisted of fifteen volumes. Large though it was,
Chalmers found it incomplete, and resolved to ex-
pand it into a full and perfect work. He therefore
commenced this gigantic laliour in May, 1812, and
continuetl to publisli a volume every alternate month
for four years and ten months, until thirty-two
volumes were successively laid before the public.
The amount of toil undergone during this period
may be surmised from the fact, that of the nine thou-
sand and odd articles which the Dictionary contains,
3934 were entirely his own protluction, 2176 were
re-written by him, and the rest revised and corrected.

After these toils, it might have been supposed that
the veteran editor and author would have left the
fielil to younger men. He had now reached the age
of fifty-seven, and had crowded that period with an
amount of literary exertion such as might well indi-
cate tlie full occupation of eveiy day, and every hour
of the day. But no sooner was the last volume of
the Biographical Dictionary ended, than he was
again at work, as if he had entered freshly into
action; and from 1816 to 1823 a series of publica-
tions was issued from the press that had passed under
his editorial pen, chiefly consisting of biographies.
But at last the "pitcher was broken at the fountain,
and the wheel broken at the cistern." During the
latter years of his life, he had been employed by the
booksellers to revise and enlarge his Bio^^raphical
Dictionary, and upon this he had continued to em-
ploy hi'.nsclf until about a thirtl of the work was
finished, when the breaking up of his constitution
obliged him to lay aside his Wfll-woni jien. His
last years were years of suffering, arising chiefly from
diseases incident tn >uch a .-edentary life, until he
sank under an attack of bnmchial inflammation.
His deaili occurred in Tlirogmorton .'^ircc-t, London,
on the loth of l)ccem!>er, 1S34, in his seventy-sixth
year. His wife liad died cigliteen years previous,
and his remains ^vere interred in tlie >aine vault witli
hers, in tlie churcli of St. liartholoine\\-, near tiie
]\.oyal Lxchange.

In the fore 'oin ' suinnKir-.- we Iiave omitted ll;e

GEORGE CHALMER.S.

327

mention of not a few of Chalmers' less essential
literary performances, conceiving the list to be al-
ready long enough to give an idea of his character
and well-si)ent life. We can only add, that his char-
acter was such as to endear him to the literary
society with whom he largely mingled, and by whom
his acquaintance was eagerly sought. He was what
Dr. Johnson wcjuld have termed "a good clublable
man," and was a meml>er of many learned societies
during half a century, as well as the affectionate
biographer of many of his companions who hail been
wont to assemble there, lie was charitable almost
to a fault — a rare excess with those in whom a con-
tinued life of toil is too often accompanied with an
undue love of money, and unwillingness to part with
it. He was also in his private life an illustration of
that Christian faith and those Christian virtues \Uiicli
his literary exertions had never failed to rec(jinmend.

CHALMERS, Georgf., an eminent antiquar.-
and general writer, was born in tlie latter part of
the year 1742, at Fochabers, in P.anffsiiire, l)eing
a younger son of the family of Bittensear, in that
county. He was educated, first at the grammar-
school of Fochabers, and afterwards at King's
College, Aberdeen, where he had for his jireceptor
the celebrated Dr. Reid, author of the Inquiry ini..i
the Human Mind. Having studied law at Edin-
burgh, Mr. Chalmers removed, in his twenty-first
year (1763) to America, as companion to his uncle,
who was proceeding thither for the puqiose of re-
covering some property in Maryland. Being induced
to settle as a lawyer in Baltimore, he soon acquired
considerable practice, and, when the celebrated ([ues-
tion arose respecting the payment of tithes to the
church, he appeared on behalf of the clergy, and
argued their cause with great ability again-t Mr.
Patrick Hendrj-, who subsequently became so con-
spicuous in the war of independence. He was not
only defeated in this cause, but was obliged, as a
marked royalist, to withdraw fnjm the country. In
England, to which he repaired in 1755, his sufferings
as a loyalist at last recommended him to the govern-
ment, and he was in 1 786 appointed to the respectable
situation of clerk to the Boanl of Trade. Tlie duties
of this office he continued to execute with diligence
and ability for the remainder of his life, a period of
thirty-nine years.

Before and after his appointment, he distinguished
himself by the composition of various elaborate and
Useful works, of which, as well as of all his subse-
(juent writings, the following is a correct chrono-
logical list: — I. The Political Annals of the Present
United Colonies, from their Settlement to the Peace
of 1763, of which the first volume appeared in
quarto, in 17S0: the second was never ].uljlislieii.
2. Estimate of the Comparative Strength of (ireat
Britain, during the present antl four precetiing reigr.-.
1782. 3. (Ijiinions on interesting suljjects ot Puii'.ic
Law and Commercial Policy; arising from Amerier.:!
Independence, 1 7S4, 8vo. 4. Life of 1 'aniel 1 ie;oe,
prefixed to an edition of the Ili-tory of tlie I :r.'r..
London, 17S6; an>! of Kohiiison Cra-e, 170C.
5. Life of Sir John I )avies. prelixed to l.> il;<.r:..;l
Tracts regarding Ireland, 17S6. Jnvo. o. ( ■ liect;..;;
of Treaties between (ireat Bril.dn ar.i "tlur • i.\ver~,
1790, 2 vols. Svi). 7. Life of T!;-n:.-;S I'.-.r.e. 1703.
8vo. 8. Life of Tliomas Kv.-;.i:r.-..i;i. A.M.. 17.4.
8vo. 9. Prefatory Iniro.hutJo;; t<. 1 ir. J-l::';— n'-
Debates in Parliament. I 704. Sv .. 10. \ .ii'ix.-.;;. n
of the Privilege -f the Peo'i'le ::i res:K-ct to tiie con-
stitutional rigiu of free <i>cu-sior.; wi'.li .-1 retro^iect^
of various ]M-ocee'!::-.^-s relative to tb.e \ I'Maf.oii ..!
tl.at rigiit, 17^0, 5-. j! (An A:. ::%::: xis Pamphlet.)

?2S

GEORGE CHALMERS

THOMAS CHALMERS.

II. Apology for the Believers in the Shaksp'eare
Papers, which were exhibited in Norfolk Street, 1797,
Svo. 12. A Supplemental Apology for the Believers
in the Shakspeare Papers, beinga reply to M r. ^Lalone's
-Vnswer, &c., 1799, Svo. 13. Appendix to the Supple-
mental Apology; being the documents for the opinion
that Mugli Boyd wrote Junius' Letters, iSoo, Svo.
14. Life of Allan Ramsay, prefixed to an edition of
his Poems, iSoo, 2 vols. Svo. 15. Life of Gregory
King, prefixed to his Observations on the State of
England in 1696, 1804, Svo. 16. The Poetical
Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, with a
Life of the Author, prefatory Dissertations, and an
appropriate Glossary, 1 806, 3 vols. Svo. 17. Cale-
donia, &c., vol. i. 1S07, 4to; vol. ii. iSiO; vol.
iii. 1S24. iS. A Chronological Account of Com-
merce and Coinage in Great Britain, from the
Restoration till 1810; 1810, Svo. 19. Considera-
tions on Commerce, Bullion and Coin, Circulation
and Exchanges; with a view to our present circum-
stances, 1811, Svo. 20. An Historical View of the
Domestic Economy of Great Britain and Ireland,
from the earliest to the Present Times (a new and
extended edition of the Comparate Estimate), Edin-
l)urgh, 1812, Svo. 21. Opinions of Eminent Lawyers
on various points of English Jurisprudence, chiefly
concerning the Colonies, Fisheries, and Commerce
of Great Britain, 1814, 2 vols. Svo. 22. A Tract
(privately printed) in answer to Malone's Account of
.Shakspeare's Tempest, 1815, Svo. 23. Compara-
tive Views of the State of Great Britain before and
since the war, 1817, Svo. 24. The Author of
Junius ascertained, from a concatenation of circum-
stances amounting to moral demonstration, 1S17,
Svo. 25. Churchyard's Chips concerning Scotland;
biing a Collection of his Pieces regarding that
Country, with notes and a Life of the Author, 1817,
Svo. 26. Life of Queen jVLary, drawn from the
State Papers, with six subsidiary memoirs, 1S18,
2 vols. 4to; reprinted in 3 vols. Svo. 27. The
Poetical Reviews of some of the Scottish Kings, now
first collected, 1S24, Svo. 28. Robene and Makyne,
and the Testament of Cresseid, by Robert Henryson,
edited as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club, of
v,-hicii Mr. Chalmers was a member; Edinburgh,
1S24. 29. A Detection of the Love-letters lately
attrii)uted in Hugh Campbell's work to Mary Queen
of Scots, 1S25, Svo. All these works, unless in the
few instances mentioned, were published in London.
The author's Caledonia astonislied the world with
t'.ie vast extent of its erudition and research. It
]irofes;ses to be an account, historical and topo-
grajiliical, of North Britain, from the most ancient
to the present times; and tlie original intention of
the author was, tliat it should be com]ik-ted in four
volumes quarto, each containing nearly 1000 pages.
Former hi>torians had not jn-csumed to infiviirc any
farther back into Scottish history than the reign of
Canmore, descril)ing all l)L-fore that time as obscurity
and fal)le, as Stralx), in his maj)s, represents the in-
habitants of every place which he did not know as
Ichtiiyojihagi. But George Chalmers was not con-
tjn;eil to start from this point. He plunged fear-
ljs~Iy into the dark ages, and was able, by dint of
incredii)le research, to give a pretty clear account of
the inhabitants of the northern part (jf the island
since the Roman conquest. The ])ains which he
nui^t have taken in com])iling informatif)n for this
work, are almost lieyond belief —althou!;h he tells
i;s in his jireface that it had only been the amuse-
ment of his evenings. The remaining three volumes
\vere destined tf) contain a to])ographicaI and his-
torical account of each county, and the second of
these completed his task so far as the Lowlands were

concerned, when death stepped in and arrested the
busy pen of the antiquary, May 31, 1825.

As a writer, George Chalmers does not rank high
in point of elegance of style; but the solid value of
his matter is far more than suflicient to counterbalance
both that defect, and a certain number of prejudices
by which his labours are otherwise a little deformed.
Besides the works which we have mentioned, he was
the author of some of inferior note, including various
political pamphlets on the Tory side of the question.

CHALMERS, Rev. Thomas, D.D. This emi-
nent orator, philosojiher, and divine, by whom the
highest interests of his country during the present
century have been so materially influenced, was born
in the once important, but now unnoticed town of
Anstruther, on the south-east coast of Fife, on the
17th March, 17S0. He was the son of Mr. John
Chalmers, a prosperous dyer, ship-owner, and general
merchant in Easter Anstruther, and Elizabeth Hall,
the daughter of a wine merchant of Crail, who, in
the course of twenty-two years, were the parents of
nine sons and five daughters, of which numerous
family, Thomat, the subject of this memoir, was the
sixth. After enduring the tyranny of a severe nurse,
he passed in his third year into the hands of an
equally severe schoolmaster, a worn-out parish
teacher, whose only remaining capacity for the in-
struction of the young consisted in an incessant
application of the rod. Thus early was Thomas
Chalmers taught the evils of injustice and oppres-
sion; but who can tell the number of young minds
that may have been crushed under a process by which
his was only invigorated ! After having learned to
read, and acquired as much Latin as he could glean
under such unpromising tuition, he was sent, at the
age of twelve, to the United College of St. Andrews.
Even long before this period he had studied with
keen relish Bunyan's Pilgrim^ s Progress, and resolved
to be a minister. It appears that, like too many
youths at their entrance into our Scottish univer-
sities, he had scarcely any classical learning, anil
was unable to write even his own language ac-
cording to the rules of orthography and grammar.
All these obstacles, however, only called forth that
indomitable perseverance by which his whole career
in life was distinguished; and in his third years
course at college, when he had reached the age of
fifteen, he devoted himself with such ardour to the
study of mathematics, that he soon became distin-
guished by his proficiency in the science, even among
such class-fellows as Leslie, Ivory, and Duncan.
These aljstract studies required some relief, and in
the case of Chalmers they were alternated with
ethics, politics, and political economy. After the
usual curriculum of four years he enrolled as a stu-
dent of theology, but with a heart so devoted to
the abstractions of geometry, that divinity occupied
little of his thoughts; even when it was afterwards
admitted, it was more in the form of sentimental
musings, than of jiatient laborious inquiry for tlie
purposes of ]")ublic instruction. But he had so suc-
cessfidly stuiiiecl the princij)lcs of comjiosition, and
actiuired such a mastery of language, that even at
the age of sixteen, many of his college jiroductioris
exhibited that rich and glowing eloquence which
was to form his distinguished characteristic in after-
years. 1 le had also actjuired that occasional drennii-
ness of look and absence of manner which so often
characterizes deep thinkers, and cs]iecially mathe-
maticians; and of this he gave a curious illustration,
when he had finished his seventh year at college,
and was about to enter a family as ]irivate tutor.
His father's household h.ad repaired to the door, to

THOMAS CHALMERS.

329

bid him farewell; and after this was ended, Thomas
mt)unted the horse that was to carry him to the
Dundee ferry. Hut in accompUshin<j this feat, he
put his riglit foot (the wrong one on this occasion)
into the stirrup, and was in the saddle in a trice,
with his face to the horse's tail ! When ready to
apjily for license as a ]ireacher, an obstacle was in
his way; for as yet he had not completed his nine-
teenth year, while the ndes of the church recjuired
tliat no student should be licensed before he had
reached the age of twenty-one. This difficulty,
however, was overruled by an exceptional clause in
favour of those possessing "rare and singidar quali-
ties;" aiul it having been represented by the memlier
of presbytery who discovered this qualification in the
old statute, that Thomas Chalmers was a "lad o'
])regnant pairts," tlie young applicant, after the usual
trials, was licensed as a preacher of the gospel on
the 31st of July, 1799.

On entering the sacred office, Clialmers was in
no haste to preach; on the contrary, he refused tlie
numerous demands that were made upon his clerical
services, took up Iiis abode in Edinburgh during the
winter of 1799-1S00, for the purpose of prosecuting
his mathematical studies under Professor Playfair,
and deprecated the idea of even a church presenta-
tion itself, lest it should prove an interruption to the
l)rogress of his beloved pursuits. The following
winter he also spent in Edinburgh, almost exclusively
occupied in the study of chemistry. As tiiere was
a prospect of the parish of Kilmany soon becoming
vacant, which was in the gift of tiie United College
(;f St. Andrews, and to which his nomination by the
])rofessors was certain, Chalmers might now have
awaited in tranquillity that happy destination for life
to which his studies hitherto had been ostensibly de-
viHed. IJut science and scientific distinction were
still the great objects of his amijition, and the matiie-
matical assistanlsiiip of .St. .-\ndrews having l^ecome
vacant, he ])resented himself as a caiulitlate for the
charge, in the hope that such an apjiointment would
iiltiiiialely lead to the jirofessorship, without ol)lig-
i.ig him to forego the ministerial charge of Kilmany
— for St. Andrews was tlie head-tjuarlers of ecclesi-
astical pluralities. In both objects he was success-
ful; and having lectured and taught mathematics at
college in the winter of 1802-3, on I2th May, 1S03,
lie was inducted into his expected jmrish. The
ardour with which he threw himself into his college
jirelectioiis, and the unwonted eloquence with which
lie imliued a science so usually delivered in the form
of dry detail and demonstration, constituted a novelty
that astoiii.-hed while it delighted his juipils, and
tlicir earnest apjilication and rajiid proficiency fully
c<)rresponded with the efforts of their youthful
le.icher. .\t the clo>e of the sessio:i, however, a
l>itior disappointment awaited him; he was told l)y
his empl"\er that his services as assistant teacher
were id longer required, while inefticiency lor the
ofiioe was stateil as the cause of his dismissal. Tliis
charge was not only most unjust in itself, but would
havenperatod mo-i injuriously against Mr. Chalmers,
by closing the entrance hi ."iiy >cientit'ic chair that
might afterwards become vacant in our universities.
To refute llii^ charge. tlieref)re, as well as to silence
his maligners, he resolved to o]ien on the fjUowing
winter a chis^ of ]ii> own in the town of ."-^t. .\ndrews,
and there s!!,)w wlietlier or not he was fitted to be a
jirofosor of niatheniatics. He accordingly did so,
and was so complete]}' attemled by the jnipils of his
f )rmer class, that lie felt no change, exee]n in the
mere locality. In taking lh;> l)old indejiendent step,
also, he was anxious to repudiate those resentfiil or
Kiali^nant nutives to wliicli it might have hju-a

attributed. "My appearance in this jilacc," he
said, "may be ascrilxjcl to the worst of passions;
some m.ay be disposed to .ascriln; it to the violence
of a revengeful temper — some to stigmatize me as a
firebrand of turbulence and mischief These motives
I disclaim. I disclaim them with the pride of an
indignant heart which feels its integrity. My only
motive is, to restore that academical reputation
which I conceive to have been violated by the asper-
sions of envy. It is this which h.as driven me from
the peaceful silence of the country- -which has forced
me to exchange my domestic retirement for the whirl
of contention." In spite of the <letermined hostility
of the professors, whose influence was all-prevalent
in the town, the three classes of mathematics which
Chalmers opened were so fully attended, that he
opened a class of chemistry also, and in this science
his eloquent exjiositions and successful experiments
were so popular that the whole country was stirred
in his favour. His labours at this youthful com-
mencement of his public career could only have been
su])]iorted by an enthusiasm like his own; for, in
acUlition to daily attendance on his classes, and pre-
jjaration of lectures, demonstrati<jns, and experi-
ments, he fulfilled the duties of the pulpit, returning
for that purpose to Kilmany on the Saturday even-
ings, and setting out to St. .Andrews on Monday
morning. Even his enemies thought this labour too
much, and resolved to lighten it, though with no
benevolent feeling; and the presbytery was moved,
for the purpose of compelling him to reside perma-
nently at Kilmany, and attend exclusively to the
duties of the parish. It was not the evils of plurality
and non-residence in the abstract which they caretl
about, but that these should furnish an opportunit}-
f)r the lecturer to intrude into .St. Andrews, and
teach within the very shadow of its university.
Chalmers felt that this was their motive, and wrote
to the presbytery an eloquent defence of his conduct.
On the following session he conceded so far as to
discontinue his mathematical classes, and only attend
to that of chemistiy, v>hich had become very pojnilar
in the county, and would reijuire his attendance
only two or three days of each week. ]i!ven this
did not satisfy the ]iresbytery, and one of its mem-
bers recpiested it to be inserted in theij minutes,
that, "in his opinion, Mr. Chalmers" giving lectures
in chemistry is imjiroper, and ougiit to be discon-
tinued." This was done; upon which Chalmers,
as a member of the presbyter)-, begged that it sliould
also be inserted in their minutes, that "after the
punctual discharge of his professional duties, his
time was his own; and he conceived tliat no man lu-
no court had a right to control him in t!ie distril-iu-
tion of it."

.•\n ojiportunity soon occurred f .rwhic!^ Clialmers
had ardently longed. It was nothing le-- tlian a
vacancy in the professorshi]) of natural philo-ojilr,-
in St. Andrews, and he became one of three caiiiiiiiate-
lor the chair. Ihit the whole three were set a-i'ie
in favour of Mr. Jackson. rect>>r of Ayr Aciiiiei;;}'.
In the following year (iSo^ia sin. ;',av \...aiK_\- oc-
curred in the university of 1-Min!)urg:i. byi'.e '.eat.i
of I)r. Robinson, and again Clialniers eritcied ilu-
Hsts; but here also he v. as liisapp' ■inte^i. w'-.rh tl-.e
consolation, however, that the su^.\i --t.;'. c.".:i':;';ate
was nootlier than the ce'.el'rated l.e-lie. Thi- coni-
jietition called forth l;is iirst eii'^rt i:; a;;th' :-iiip. in
the fiH-m of a ]\iniph!et. in couse lujv.ce o| t!ie asser-
tion, that a ministerial ciiarge a:: i -■.;•!•.•, ;;'.c a;p ■mt-
meiit combineil in one ]ier-"n w eie iixonq iaf.ole—
a paniiililet wliicli. in sii!)-e';nent }ear>. he ;.-.!>• lure'l
to sup-press, and gladly \\.<\:\.l f.ave f rg't. At
present. hrjWever, lii- e\; res-ei > : i:.: ■:: \^ ,".-. •'--:.:

THOMAS CHALMERS.

'"after the satisfactor)' discharge of his parish duties,
a minister may enjoy five days in the week of unin-
terrupted leisure, for tlie prosecution of any science
in wliich his taste may dispose him to engage."
This, alas! was too true, if that "satisfactory dis-
charge" of parochial duty involved nothing more
than the usual routine of a parish minister. Chalmers,
therefore, had to find some other outlet for his "un-
interrupted leisure;" and after having exhausted the
field of St. Andrews, he resumed his lectureship on
chemistry in his little parish of Kilmany, and the
county town of Cupar. But even yet something
additional was needed, besides the delivery of lectures
formerly repeated, and experiments that had been
twice tried; and this was soon furnished by Napo-
leon's menace of invasion. The hostile camp of the
modern Cxsar at Boulogne, and the avowed purpose
for which it had been collected, roused the spirit of
Britain, so that military associations were formed,
from the metropolis to the hamlet, in every part of
our island. This was more than enough for the
ardent spirit of Chalmers, and he enrolled himself
in the St. Andrews corps of volunteers, not only as
chaplain, but lieutenant. It is well known how tliis
threat of an invasion of Britain was exchanged for
an attack upon Austria, and how suddenly the
breaking up of the hostile encampment at Boulogne
dismissed a million of armed Britons to their homes
and workshops. On dofting his military attire, the
minister of Kilmany had other and more professional
occupation to attend to at tlie bedside of a dying
brother, who had returned to his father's home
afilicted with consumption, under which he died in
a few months. During the last illness of the amiable
sufferer, one of the duties of Thomas Chalmers was
to read to his brother portions of those religious
works which he iiad denounced from the pulpit as
savouring of fanaticism, and to hear the criticism
lirontiunced upon them by the lips of the dying man,
as he fervently exclaimed, "I thank thee, 0 Father,
Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these
things from tlie wise and prudent, and revealed them
unto babes." After this departure from life, which
was one of solemn and impressive resignation,
Chalmers gave relief to his thoughts, fir-t by a jour-
ney to England, in which he visited London, Cam-
l-.ridge, and Oxford, and afterwards by authorship.
Lulependently of mathematics, chemistry, and botany,
which his ardent spirit of inquiry had successively
mastered, he had studied the science of political
economy; and now that Bonaparte had published
his famous Berlin decree, by which the mercantile
and manufacturing community of Britain was panic-
struck, Chalmers produced his hiqitiry in/o the J'lx-
t:ut and Slaliility of Xatioiial Rcsoiirci's, to show that
this ajiprehension was groundless. The analysis of
this Work can be best given in his own account of it.
In a letter to his brother he says, "The great burden
of my argument is, that the manufacturer who ]ire-
pares an article for home consumption is the servant
of the inland consumer, lal)ouring for his gratifica-
tion, and supported by the i)rice which he ])ays for
the article; that the manufacturer of an article for
cxp(irtation is no less the servant of the iidand con-
sumer, because, though he does not labour imme-
diately for his gratification, he labours for a return
from foreign countries. This return comes in articles
of luxury, which fetch a ]irice from our inland con-
sumers. Hence, it is ultimately from the inland con-
sumer that the manufacturer of the exiiorted article
derives his maintenance. .Supjiose, then, that trade
and manufacture were destroyed, this does not affect
the ability of the inland consumer. The whole
amount of the mischief is, that he loses the luxuries

which were before provided for him, but he still
retains the ability to give the same maintenance as
before to the immense population who are now dis-
carded from their former employments. Suppose
this ability to be transferred to government in the
form of a tax. Government takes the discarded
population into its service. They follow their sub-
sistence wherever it can be found; and thus, from
the ruin of our trading and manufacturing interest,
government collects the means of adding to the naval
and military estal^ilishments of the country. I there-
fore anticipate that Bonaparte, after he has stic-
ceeded in shutting up the markets of the Continent
against us, will be astonished — and that the mercan-
tile politicians of our own country will be no less
astonished — to find Britain as hale and vigorous as
ever, and fitter than before for all the purposes of
defence and security, and political independence."
Such was the theory of Chalmers, studied with much
care, written with patriotic enthusiasm, and published
at Edinburgh in the spring of 1808. It was perhaj s
as well that no opportunity occurred of testing its
soundness, owing to the remissness with which the
Berlin decree was executed, so that it gradually be-
came a dead letter. Chalmers, however, was so
impressed with the urgency of the danger, and the
efficacy of his plan to remove it, that he was anxious
to obtain a national publicity for his volume; and
with this view he had resolved to repair to the capital,
and negotiate for bringing out a new edition by the
London publishers. But this event, which might
have altered the whole current of his life, and changed
him into a Malthus or Adam Smith, was prevented
by a trying family dispensation, so that instead of
embarking in a Dundee smack as he had purposed,
he was obliged to attend the deathbed of one of his
sisters. It is to be observed, however, that his
studies in political economy were not to be without
important results. In after-years they were brought
vigorously and successfully to bear upon the manage-
ment of towns and parishes, and the cureof jiauperism ;
and, above all, in organising the provision of a
church that threw aside, raid at once, the support
and maintenance of the state, when conscience de-
manded the sacrifice.

In this way the first twenty-nine years in the life
of the subject of this memoir had ]iasscd. But still,
it gives little or no indication of that Dr. Chalmers
who was afterwards so widely reno'wiied throughout
the Christian world — of tl;at vcr\- Dr. Chalmers
whom the present generation so fondly loved, and
still so vividly reniendjcrs. As yet, the record might
serve for an amiable enthusiastic savant of Englanil,
France, or Italy, rather than a Scottish country min-
ister intrusted with the care of souls, and preparing
his accounls for the close of such a solenni steward-
ship. But a series of events occurred at this time
by which the whole character of his mind and min-
istry was to be changed. The first and perhajis the
most im])ortant of these was the death of his sister,
an event to which we have already alluded. Sl:e
had dei)arl(xl amidst feelings of ho]ie and joy thr.t
far transceiKled the mere ]iassive resignation of philo-
sophy; and the affectionate heart that jiined within
tlie lonely manse of Kilmany, while remembering
her worth, and lamenting her de]\arture, had a sub-
ject of anxious inquiiy bcf|ueatlied to him, as to
whence that hojie and joy had arisen. '1 he first in-
dication of this was given in a change that took jilace
in the course of his authorshi]i. Tre\-ious to his
sistei's decease, and while the Juli>il'!iri;/i lincytlo-
p(rdin was in progress, lie had been invited by Dr.
Brewster, the distinguished editor, to contribute to
the work; and this Chalmers had resolved to do,

THOMAS CHALMERS.

33'

by wrilinjj the article "Trigonometr>'," for which
purpose lie liatl devoted himself to the study of Cag-
noli s Trv^i'iionuiria Plana e Sferka, at that time the
standard work upon the subject. Hut after her
death he chaii;;ed iiis purpose, and earnestly requested
that the article "Christianity" should be committed
to his nuTuagemcnt, offerinfj, at the same time, to
live three or four months in St. Andrews, for the
purpose of collecting,' the necessary materials in the
college lii)rary. After his sister's decease, the ad-
monitory 1)1' >w was repeated; this was the death of
Mr. liallardie, a childless old officer of the navy, in
whose alfection he had found a second father, and
who was one evening discovered dead upon his
knees, having been called away into life eternal in
the very mid--.t of prayer. Tliese warnings were suc-
ceeded by a long and severe illness, that reduced
him to the iieiplessness of infancy, and threatened to
be fatal; and amidst the musings of a sick chamber,
and unquiet tossings upon what he believed to be a
deathbed, the anxious mind of Chalmers had full
scope for those solemn investigations which the pre-
vious calamities had awoke into action. But the
trial ended; and after passing through such a furnace,
he emerged into life, and tlie full vigour of life, a
purified and altered man. His own account of the
change and its process is tnily characteristic, and it
will be seen from the following extract, that a con-
genial spirit from the dwellings of the dead had
hovered, as it were, beside his pillow, and spoken
to him wonls of counsel and encouragement. "My
C(jnfinement," he wrote to a friend, "has fixed on
my heart a very strong impression of tlie insignifi-
cance of time — an impression wliich, I trust, will not
a!)andon me though I again reacii the hey-day of
health and vigour. This siiould be the first step to
another impression still more salutary — the magni-
tude of eternity. .Strip human life of its connection
with a higher scene of existence, and it is the illu-
sion of an instant, an unmeaning farce, a series of
visions, and projects, and convulsive efforts which
terminate in nothing. I have been reading Pascal's
Thoii:^hts on J\^:'i:^ion; you know his history — a man
of the richest endowments, and whose youth was
signalized by his profound and original speculations
in mathematical science, but who could stop short
in tlie brilliant career (if discovery, who couM resign
all the splendours of literary reputation, who could
renounce wiiiiout a sigh all the distinctions which
are conferred upon genius, and resolve to devote
every talent and every hour to the defence and illus-
tration of the gospel. This, my dear sir, is superior
to all Creek and to all Roman fame."

This change which had taken place in the man,
was soon manifested in the minister, and the puljiit
of Kilmany no longer gave forth an uncertain
s.)und. Hitherto Chalmers had advocated virtuous
feeling and a virtuous life as the head and front of
Chri>t;anity, to which the righteousness and death
of our l)lc»ed Saviour were make-weights and no-
thing more. And yet, even how that little was sup-
jilemented. and what was its mode of agencv, he
could not conjecture. "In what jiarticular manner,"
he thus preaciied, "thedeath of our Redecniereffected
the renii»ioii of our >ins. or rather, why that death
was made a condition ot thi-- rcnii-^ion, seems to be
an unrevealed point in the Scri|)tures. Perhaps the
Civ.l of nature meant to illur-trate the purity of his
perfection to the children of men; jierhaps it was
efftcaciou> ir. ;iromoting the improvement, and con-
firming the virtue, of other orders of being. The
tenets of iiio>e whose gloomy and unenlarged minds
are ajU to imagine that the .\uthor of nature re-
quired the dc.itli ^)i Jc^u^ merely f;r the rcraration

of violated justice, are rejected by all free and ra-
tional iiKpiirers." In this manner he groped his way
in utter uncertainty— a blind leader of the blind,
upon a path where to stumble may be to fall for
ever. But a year had elapsed, and his eyes were
opened. "I am now mo.st thoroughly of opinion,"
he writes, "and it is an opinion founded on ex-
liericnce, that on the system of 'Do this and live,'
no peace, and even no true and worthy (jln-dience,
can ever be attained. It is, 'Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' When this
belief enters the heart, joy and confi<!ence enter
along with it. The righteousnos which we try
to work out for ourselves eludes our impotent
grasp, and never can a soul arrive at tnie or per-
manent rest in the pur>uit <jf this object. Tie
righteousness which by faith we put on, secures our
acceptance with (Jod, and secure^ our inlere^t in his
promises, and gives us a part in those sanctifying
influences by which we are enabled to do with aid
from on high what we never can do without it. We
look to God in a new light — we see him as a recon-
ciled Father; that love to him which terror scares
away re-enters the heart, and with a new principle
and a new power, we become new creatures in Je>us
Christ our Lord." Not only the change in the spirit
of his ]3ulpit ministrations was now remarkable, but
the manner in which they were prepared, f )f tliis
we have a striking proof in the following incident.
Mr. John Bonthron, a near neighbour aiul intimate
acfjuaintance, one day remarked to Mr. Chalmers
befjre his illness had commenced: "I find you aye
busy, sir, with one thing or another; but come \\hen
I may, I never find you at your studies for the Sals-
bath." "Oh, an hour or two on the Saturday even-
ing is quite enough for that," replied the minister.
.\fier the change the visitor found that, call when
he might, he found Mr. Chalmers cmjdoycd in the
study of the Scriptures, and could not help express-
ing his wonderment: "I never come in now, sir. liut
I find you aye at your Bible." ".Ml too little,
John, all too little," was the altered minister's re]''ly.
Two years had passed onward in this >tate, durir.g
which the changed condition of the church of Kil-
many and its talented minister had been a subject (<{
speculation throughout the whole country. It \\ns
not that he had abandoned scientific pursuits, tor he
still cultivated these as ardently as ever; nor relin-
quished his devotedness to literature, lor he was
more eager for the labours and enjoyment> of author-
ship than before. But all these were kept in sub>er-
viency to a more important princij'le of exi>ter.ce, ar.d
consecrated to a higher aim. He had now reach.e 1
the matured age i">f thirty-two. a ]-eriod of lite at
which the most active may well wi>h I'or a partner
in their labours, and the most rechr-e and stU(iiou> a
companion of their thoughts. He had n!.-o l>een th.e
occupant of a lonely manse during nine long _\ear-.,
but was still as ignorant of the manageineiU ar.d lie-
tails of li(ju>ekeeping as when he fir>t entered tlir.t
dwelling and sat (lown to re>unie hiscollege pr 'Me;i>.
His heart, to(5, had lieen lately opened ar.d e\; .;];.;ed
by the glorious truths of the go-pel— n:;d h. w
earne>tly does it then seek a c<'i;gei.;al lit ait :;r.o
wliich it may utter it> emotion-, a k:;,':re''. -i •.;!
with whom it niay wor.--!r]i and ad' re I A:.! -uJi
a one was alrea'iy priniiieo; or:C \'.I;o tl.r' i;^;i I;:c
was to s(M)the his cares, animate h;- l..;i' '.'r-. C'>)i-o!e
him in his di-appoiiitine;ii-. ?:'.v\ \.v::.V.y to rei^'in
him in a hapjuer world i!i:-!!i ;I'..-.: l.e iia ! le:: niter a
brief separation. Tiii> w.i- M;-- ( '.la^e I'mtt. -ev-i.'!
daughter of Cnr-tain Pratt, of tlie iir-; Kov.tI X'eteran
Battalion. Mr. Cliahiur-. in.ieed. on acc-;i;.t >■:
the smallacj--, uf Ir^ >tii.end, l;a 1 previov.-Iy re- Ived

THOMAS CHALMERS.

never to marry: but when tliis amiable lady appeared
for a short time in his neighbourhood, the resolution
was somehow lost sight of; and wlien she was about
to remove to her own home, he felt that there was
no further leisure for delay. He was accepted, and
they were married on the 4th August, 1S12. The
following picture of the state of life into which he
had entered, forms the Ivan ideal of a happy country
manse, and its newly-married inmates. Writing to
his sister he says, "I have got a small library for
lier; and a public reading in the afternoon, when we
lake our turns for an hour or so, is looked upon as
one of the most essential parts of our family manage-
ment. It gives me tlie greatest pleasure to inform
you, that in my new connection, I have founil a
coadjutor who holds up her face for all the proprieties
of a clergyman's family, and even pleads for their
extension beyond what I had originally proposed.
We have now family worship twice a-ilay; and
though you are the only being on earth to whom I
would unveil the most secret arrangements of our
f\mily, I cannot resist the jileasure of telling you, be-
cause I know that it will give you the truest pleasure
to understand, that in those still more private and
imited acts of devotion which are so beautifully de-
scribed in the Cottar s Saturday A'/g/it, I feel a com-
f )rt, an elevation, and a ]ieace of mind of which I
was never before conscious."

Allusion has already been made to the connection
of Mr. Chalmers with the Ednibiiri^h Encyclopcrdia,
and the earnest desire he had exjiressed, so early as
the year 1S09, to have the article "Christianity"
intrusted to his management. This recjuest was
complied with, and early in 1813 his treatise under
that title appeared in the sixth volume of the work.
It consisted, as is well known, of the evidences of
the divine origin of Christianity, based, not upon the
internal excellence of its character, or the ]n-oofs of
its iieaven-derived origin, as exhibited in the divine
nature of its teaching, but simply upon the historical
yiroofs of its authenticity. No fact in the whole range
of history could be more certain than that Christ and
his a[)ostles had lived at the period assigned to them,
and that they had acted and taught precisely accord-
ing to the recortl which revelation has handed down
lo us. This being satisfactorily ascertained, all cavil
must be silencetl, and all hesilati(5n abandoned: that
teaching has been shown to be from God, and nothing
more remains for man but implicitly to receive and
liuml^ly to obey it. This was his line of argument,
and it had been so early matured in his mind, that
he had developed the idea in one of his chemical
L'cturcs delivered at St. Andrews. "The truth of
Chri-ilia'nty," he said, "is neither more nor less than
the truth of certain facts that have been handed down
to us by the testimony of rejiorters." The originality
of his arguments, tlie force of his conchi^iims, and the
clofjuent, clear, and vigorous style in which they
were ex])ressed, arrested the ]Hil)lic attention, and
secured f >r the article such a fav()ui"a!)le recejjtion,
that f )r the pur]jo>e of dilTu^ing its benefits more
widely, the ^proprietors of the J'-iuyrlopicdia cau.^ud
it to be published as a se])arate woik. .Still, how-
ever, there were not a few wiio conijilained that the
base of Christian evidence hacl been unnecosarily
lessened by such an exclusive mode of reasuning;
and he was addressed on the subject, not only with
jirivate remonstrance, but also with sharp criticisms
through the press. The elfect of all thi^ was gra-
dually to enlarge his conceptiorrs u]ion tiie subjcxt,
so that more than twenty years after, when the work
reappeared in his Iitstitutis of 'J7uvloi;y, it was with
the internal evidences added to the external. In
this v,-ay he surrendered a long-cherishcd and beloved

theory to more matured convictions, and satisfied,
while he answered, the objections which the first
appearance of his treatise had occasioned.

These were not the only literary labours of
Chalmers at this period. About the same time that
his article on Christian evidence appeared in the
Einyclopccdia, he published a pamphlet, entitled
The Injlueiue of Bible Societies upon the Temporal
j\Wessities of the Poor. It had been alleged, that the
])arochial associations formed in Scotland in aid of the
Bible Society would curtail the voluntary parish funds
that were raised for the relief of the poor. This
argument touched Chalmers very closely; for he was
not only an enthusiastic advocate for the relief of
jioverty by voluntary contribution instead of com-
pulsory poor-rales, but also an active agent in the
multii)lication of liible Society associations over the
country. He therefore endeavoured to show that
these different institutions, instead of being hostile,
would be of mutual aid to each other; and that
Bible societies had a tendency not only to stimulate
and enlarge Christian liberality, but to lessen the
aniount of poverty, by introducing a more industrious
and independen' spirit among the poor. This was
speedily followed by a review of Ciivier''s Essay on
the Theory of the Earth, which was published in the
Cliristiaii Instructor, and in which Chalmers boklly
ventured to call in question the generally received
chronology which theologians have ventured to en-
graft upon the Mosaic account of the creation. They
had asserted hitherto that the Nvorld was not more
than 6000 years old, and adduced the sacred history
as their warrant, while the new discoveries in geology
incontestably proved that it must have had a much
earlier origin. Here, then, revelation and the facts
of science were supposed to be completely at vari-
ance, and infidelity revelled in the contradiction.
But Chalmers boldly cut the knot, not by question-
ing the veracity of Moses, but the correctness of his
interpreters; and he asked, "Does Moses ever say
that there was not an interval of many ages betwixt
the first act of creation, descriljcd in the first verse
of the book of Genesis, and said to have been ]:ier-
formed at the beginning, and those more detailed
operations, the account of which commences at the
second verse? Or does he ever make us to under-
stand, that the genealogies of man went any further
than to fix the antiquity of the species, and, of corisc-
cjuence, that they left the anti'iuily of the gloljc a free
subject for tiie sjieculations of jihilosophers?" These
questions, and the explanations with \\hich they
were followed, were of weight, as coming not only
from a clergyman whose orthodoxy was now unim-
jieachable, but who had distinguished himself so
lately in the illustration of Christian evidence;-"and,
perhaps, it is umiecessary to add, that the solution
thus offered is the one now generally ado]ited. The
subject of "missions" next occupied his J^cn, in
consequence of an article in the Juiinburiih 7wT7<7t',
whicli, while giving a notice of Lichtenstein's 'J'ra-'cls
in Southern Africa, took occasion, by lauding the
Moravian missionaries, to disparage other missions,
as beginning their instructions at the wrong end,
while the Moravian brethren had hit upon the true
exjiedient of first civilizing savages, and afterwards
teaching them the doctrines of Christianity. Chalmers
showed that, in point of fact, this statement was
untrue; and ])roved, from the testimony of the
brethren themselves, that tlie civilization of their
savage converts was the effect, and not the cause -
the seipiel rather than the jjrelude of Christian teach-
ing. They had first tried the civilizing ])rocess, and
ino-t egregiously failed; they had afterwards, and at
hap-hazanl, read to the obdurate savages the ac-

THOMAS CHALMERS.

333

count of our Saviour's death from the evangelists,
by which they were arrested and moved in an
instant; and tiiis process, which the Moravians had
afterwards adopted, was the secret of the wonderful
success of their missions. These were subjects into
which his heart fully entered, as a Christian divine
and a lover of science, and therefore he brought to
eacli of these productions his usual careful research
and persuasive eloquence. It is not, however, to be
thou;^dit that amidst such congenial occupations the
intelicctual labour necessary for the duties of the
pulpit was in any way remitted. On the contrary,
many of his sermons, prepared at this period for the
simple rustics of Kilmany, were afterwards preached
before crosvds of the most accomplished of our island
in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and London, and afterwards
committed to the press, aln\ost without any altera-
tion. The highest eloquence is the utterance of a
full heart that cannot be silent. And such was the
eloquence of Chalmers. During three years he had
been intensely occupied with the m<jst important
and soul-engrossing of all themes: they brought to
his awakened perceptions the cliarm of a new exist-
ence; and these sermons were but the expressions of
love, and wonder, and deliglit, wliich every fresh
discovery of that new existence evolved from him.
And where, in sucli a state, was the need of listening
thousands, or tlie deep muttered thunder of popular
applause? He must thus write tliough no eye should
peruse the writing, and give it utterance although it
were only to the trees or the winds. And when
such productions are spoken before living men, tlie
orator, while his auditors appear before him in
glimpses and at intervals, does not jiause to gauge
tlieir intellectuality, their rank, or their numbers.
He only feels that they are immortal beings, and
that he is commissioned to proclaim to them the
tidings of eternity.

But the time had now arrived when this training,
in the course of Providence, was to be turned to its
proper account, and such powers to find their proper
field of action. His renown as a preacher, by wliich
all Fifeshire was stirred, had gone aljroad, while
his literary reputation and intellectual powers were
stamped by his published pro<luctions beyond the
possil)ility of doul)t or cavil. In this case, too, as
was most fitting, he did not seek, but was sought.
Dr. Macgill, minister of the Tron Church, Cilasgow,
had been translated to the divinity cliair of the
university of tliat city, and the ta-k of finding a
successor to the vacant pulpit devolved ujion llie
town-council. The name of the minister of Kilmany
was forthwith heard, and, after due consideration,
the usual overtures were made to him to accejit the
charge of the Tron Church. But tempting though
such an offer might l)e, the rural minister <lemurre<l
aiv.l lield back. He could not persuade himself to
ai)an(lon a people whom his lately-awakened spirit
ha 1 inspired with a kindred sympathy, and wlio
were wont every Sabliath to throng their long-
de->erted pews with sucli eager solicitude, and listen
to !iis teaching witli such >olemn interest. But,
aI)ove all, the ^ccularitie-; of .1 great city charge, and
the inroad-^ wliich it would make upon his time and
attention, filled him with alarm. "I know of in-
stances," he wrote in re[)ly, '•where a clergyman
has been called from the country to town tor his
talent at preacliing; and wlieii he got there tliey so
belaboured him with the drudgery of tlieir in>titu-
tions, that they siiiiitliered and e\tiiigui>!ied tlie verv
talent for which they had acio]ited li;ni. The ]iuri;y
and independence of the clerical iift"ice are not
sufficiently respected in great towns. He come--
;imon':r them a clerijv-ma!', and thev make a nieie

churchwarden of him." His objections were at
length overruled, and on Ijeing elected by a large
m.ajority of the town-council of Gla.sgow, he signified
his acceptance, and was inducted into his imjxjrtaiit
charge on the 21st July, 1815, when he had reached
the matured an<l vigorous age of thirty-five. It was
a day of impatient cxjiectation in f>ur metropolis of
manufactures and commerce, as after his accei)lance,
and f(jur months previous to his admission, its
citizens had enjoyed the opportunity of hearing with
their own ears a si)ecimen of that eloquence which
hitherto they had known only by report. The
occasion was the annual meeting of the Society of
the Sons of the Clergy, held at (ila'-gow, lx.-fore
which Chalmers was appointed to preach; and the
feeling of the vast multitiule that sat electrified
beneath his wondrous power might have been ex-
pressed in the language of the (j)ueen of Sheba:
They had heard of it only, and could nut believe;
but now they found that half of the truth had not
been told them.

As soon as he had got fairly located in Glasgow,
Chalmers found that, notwithstanding all his previous
stipulations to that effect, his time was no longer to
be his own. But still worse than this, he found that
it was to be frittered away in ten thousand frivolous
occupations, with which, he justly thought, his sacred
office had nothing to do. Three months had scarcely
ela]ised, when we find him thus writing on the
suljject: "This, sir, is a wonderful place; and I am
half-entertained, half-provoked, by some of the pecu-
liarities of its people. The peculiarity which bears
hardest upon me is, the incessant demand they have
upon all occasions for the personal attendance of the
ministers. They must have four to ever)- funeral,
or they do not think that it has been genteelly gone
through. They must have one or more to all tlie
committees of all the societies. They must fall in
at every procession. They must attend examinations
innumerable, and eat of the dinners consequent u))on
these examinations. They have a niche assigned
them in almost every public doing, and that niche
must be filled up by them, or the doing loses all it^
solemnity in the eyes of the pulilic. There seems t^)
be a su]ierstitious charm in tlie ver.' sight of tlieni:
and such is the manifold ofiiciality with which they
are covered, that they must be ]>araded among all
the meetings and all tlie institutions." It wa> not
without cause that he thus complained; for in coming
to details, we find him at one time obliged to sit in
judgment as to whether such a gutter should b:
Ijought up and covered over, or leti alone as it stood;
and whether ox-head soup or jiork-broth was th •
fittest diet for a poorhouse; alternated, on going
home, with the necessity of endorsing ajiplicatioiis > ;
persons wishing to follow the calling of spirit-.-eiler-
and ])edlars. This, iivleed, v. as to liave "gre.itiu---
thrust upon him I" But the evil had origmate^i ivi
Glasgow so early as the davs of tb.e covcnar.t. \vl;e-i
every movement was nnu'c or le~s connected \\:i.'.
religion; and it was jierpetuated and cniirnie'l b}
the mercantile bustle that succeeded in ].;ter ] erii !~.
when every niercliant or sli''ikee[cr v.a- e.'L"er to
I devolve upon the minister ti;"-e 1 'lC'.:; at:' 'i',- il^n",
would have interfere<l with 1;;- "'.■■:. ] •.-'■\l>~.' 'U.'.i
jnirsuits. Tlie.-e dilViciiItie- ( 'i-.r. !:;;■: - v, .-,- . 1 hgel^
to wrestle down a> he be-t c"'.:'. i. .'.:,: a; tb.e r;sk c 1
being comiilaineil (^if a^ an inr,o\.-' r: ! r.t a per-evei-
ing course of >turdy reUi-.d .".t lvr.;;i ri'lueed tl;e
grievance to a manageali'.e c ir.; ..--. N\ l^eii tlr,-
wa- surmounted, tl'.eve wa~ -•.;;! r.:i":!ier trial to be
' got rid of, that originate.! in li;~i'wn .i.v.iy increa-'.ng
j i>npu!arity. Ilewa> ii..\\ t!ie gr^at mark . f .-.'imir.- -
I tion and este'.;-.:. so tl.at zll w..;e \^<A Kr'.y t.^ger Vj

334

THOMAS CHALMERS.

visit him, but to have their visits reciprocated.
^Vhen these demands were also compressed within
tolerable limits, a third difficulty was to be con-
fronted, that could not so easily be overcome, as it
arose from his own parish, of which he had the
oversight. That our ministers might be able, like
the apostles of old, to give themselves "continually
to prayer and to the ministry of the Word," our
church had wisely appointed not only deacons to
take charge of the temporalities of the congregation,
but elders to assist tjie pastor in the visitation of the
sick and all the out-door duties of his ecclesiastical
charge. But while the work of the deaconship had
become of late little more than a dead letter, the
duties of the eldership had diminished almost entirely
to the -Sabbath collections in the church-porch, and
their allocation to the poor of the parish. Most
truly, therefore, did a certain minister of Edinburgh,
after a charity-sermon, announce, in full simplicity
of heart, to those who might be disposed to con-
tribute still farther, that in going out they would find
standing at the door "the church-plates, and their
concomitants the elders." Chalmers felt that this
worn-out machinery must be renewed and restored
to its former elTiciency; for otherwise, in a parish
containing nearly 12,000 souls, he could be little
more than its Sabbath preacher. To this important
task he therefore addressed himself, and the result
of his labours in the ecclesiastical organization of his
parish, which were followed by general imitation,
proved how justly he had appreciated the difficulties
that beset a city minister, and the most effectual
remedies by which they are obviated.

While he was thus contending with this "mortal
coil" of secular occupation, and shuffling it off as
well as he might, the pulpit preparations of the new
minister evinced that it was not his own ease that he
sought by this earnest desire of silence and seclusion.
I-'or it was not by mere eloquence and originality of
style that his weekly sermons not only retained, but
increased, his reputation and efficiency; on the con-
trary, their deptii of thought and originality of senti-
ment were more wonderful than their language,
powerful and startling though it was. His preaching
^^•as in some measure the commencement of a new
era in the history of the Scottish church. To under-
stand this aright, we must keep in mind the two
]>arties into which the church had been divided, and
the solicitude they had manifested for nearly a cen-
tury to avoid every meeting except a hostile collision.
(Jii the one side was the Evangelical party, with
whom the sympathies of the people were enlisted;
and on the other the Moderates, who, generally
speaking, comprised llie arisl(3cracy, the philosf)-
phi.^ts, and ])(jlilicians of the community — men who
talked <jf the "march of mind" and the "jirogress
of im])roveineiU," and wJio thought that religion, as
well as everything else, should accommodate itself to
that progress. With such mei^ the theology of our
fathers was distasteful bjcause it was old-fashioned,
and their aim was to dilute it so effectually with
modern liberalism as to adapt it to the tastes and
exigencies of the day. Hence the cautiousness with
which they were wont, in their sermons, to avoid all
such topics as election, regeneration, and the atone-
ment, and the decided preference which they showed
f )r those moral duties upon which man can decide
and act for himself In this way they too often con-
lined their teaching to those virtues on wliich all
creeds are more or le-s agreed, so that sometimes it
would have been difficult to divine, from the tenor of
such discourses, whether the speaker was Christian,
jiagan, or infidel. With the Evangelical jiarly the
case was wholly different. Eager to i>reach the

paramount importance of faith, they were too ready to
lose sight of its fruits as exemplified in action; while
every mention of human virtue was apt to be con-
demned as legalism, self-seeking, and reliance on the
covenant of works instead of the covenant of grace.
That the heavenly and divine might be every-
thing, the human was reduced to nothing; and to
exalt the all-in-all sufficiency of redemption, man
was to sit still, not only under its present coming,
but also its future influences. And to impress upon
their hearers more fully the necessity of this redemp-
tion, an odious picture was generally drawn of human
nature, in which all that is helpless, and worthless,
and villanous was heaped together indiscriminately,
and made to constitute a picture of man in his original
condition. In this way either party diverged from
the other, the one towards Socinianism, and the
other to Antinomianism, so that it was sometimes
hard to tell which of these aberrations was the worst;
wdiile of their flocks it might too often be said —

"The hungry sheep looked up, and were not fed."

It would be insulting to ask which of these two
parties Chalmeis followed as a public spiritual
teacher. His was a mind not likely to be allured
either by the shrivelled philosophy of the one, or the
caricatured Calvinism of the other. He rejected
both, and adopted for himself a course wdiich was
based upon the fulness of revelation itself, instead of
the exclusive one-sided nook of a body of mere reli-
gionists— a course which reconciled and harmonized
the anoiTialies of everyday reality with the unerring
declarations of Scripture. Thus, he could not see
that every man at his birth was inevitably a liar, a
murderer, and a villain. Instead of this, there was
such a thing as innate virtue ; and men might be
patriots, philanthropists, and martyrs, even without
being Christians. And here he drew such pictures
of the natural man in his free unconstrained nobleness
— such delineations of disinterestedness, humanity, in-
tegrity, and self-denial welling forth from hearts that
were still unrenewed, as Plato might have heard with
enthusiasm, and translated into his own richest Attic
eloquence. And was not all this true? Was it not
daily exhibited, not only in our empire at large, but
even in the mercantile communities of that city in
which his lot had been cast? I!ut while the self-
complacent legalist was thus carried onward delighteil
and regaled with such descriptions of the innate
nobleness of human character as his own teachers
had never furnished, he was suddenly brought to an
awful pause by the same resistless eloquence. The
preacher proceeded to show that still these words
were an incontestal)le immutable verity, "There is
none righteous, no not one." P"or in sjiite of all this
excellence, the unrenewed heart was still at enmity
with God, and in all its doings did nothing at his
command or fjr his sake. And therefore, however
valuable this excellence inight be for time and the
world, it was still worthless for eternity. It was of
the earth, earthy, and would ]iass away with the
earth. It sought a re(|uilal short of heaven, and
even already had obtained its reward.

-An event soon occurred after the anival of Mr.
(now l)r. ) Chalmers in Glasgow, l:>y which his repu-
tation as a ])reacher was no longer to be con fined to
Scotlnnd, but diffused over the world whei'cver the
English language is known. We allude t(> his well-
known .Istrottonnral JJiscoiirscs, which, ol all his
i\-ri'ings, will ])erhaps be the most cherished by pos-
terity. It was the custom of the city clergymen to
l)reach every Thursday in rotation in the I'ron Church;
and as there were only eight ministers, the turn oi
each arrived after an irilerval of two months. Dr.

THOMAS CIIALMLRS.

Chalmers took his share in this duty, for the first
time, on the 15th November, 1815, and commenced
with the first lecture of the astronomical series, which
he followed up during his turn in these week-day
services for the year lSi6. To those who have only
read these discourses it would be enough to say, in
the words of /Eschines, "What would you have said
if you liad seen him discharge all this thunder-storm
of elocjuence?" They were published at the com-
mencement of 1S17; and the avidity with which they
were read is shown by the fact that 6000 copies were
disposeil of in a month, and nearly 20,000 within the
course of the year. Nothing like this had occurred in
the publication of sermons either in England or Scot-
land; and wliile the most illiterate were charmed
with the production, the learned, the scientific, and
the critical read, admired, and were convinced.
London would not rest until it had seen and heard
tlie living man; and Dr. Chalmers was invited to
jireach the anniversary sermon for the London Mis-
sionary Society. Tliitlier he accordingly went, and
delivered a discourse in Surrey Chapel on the 14th
May. The service was to commence at eleven, but
so early as seven in the morning that vast building
of 3000 sittings was crowded, while thousands of dis-
appointed comers were obliged to go away. An ac-
count of wliat followed, written home by Mr. .Smith,
one of his friends who accompanied him from
Clasgow, is thus expressed: "I write under the ner-
vousness of having heard and witnessed the most
astonishing disj^lay of human talent that ]5crha[)s
ever commanded sight or he.'' ring. Dr. Chalmers
has just finished his discourse before tlie Missionary
Society. All my exjiectations were overwhelmed
in the triumph of it. Nothing from tlie Tron pulpit
ever exceedeil it, nor did he ever more arrest and
wonder-work his auditors. I had a full view of the
wliole place. The carrying forward of minds never
was so visiljje to me: a constant assent of the head
from the whole people accompanied all his para-
graphs, and the breathlessness of expectation jier-
mitted not the beating of a heart to agitate the
stillness." Other demands for sermons followed;
for, in the words of Willh-rforcc's Diary, "all tlie
world waswildat)out Dr. Chalmers." Even Canning,
wlio was one of liis liearers, and who was melted
into tears by his sermon for the Hibernian .Society,
declared that, "notwithstanding the northern accent
and unpolished manner of the speaker, he had never
been S(^ arrested by any kind of oratory." "The
tartan," he added, "beats us all." But the best and
most valuable testimony was that of the Rev. Robert
Hall, himself the Chalmers of England, whose
generous heart rejoiced in the eclipse which he had
just sustained by the arrival of his northern brother;
and in writing to him, after his return to Glasgow,
he says: "It would ])e difficult not to congratulate
you on the unrivalled and unbounded popularity

which attended you in the metropolis

The attention which your sermons have excited is
])robal)ly unequalled in modern literature; and it
must be adcliglitful reflection that you are advancing
the cause of religion in innumerable multitudes of
vour fellow-creatures, whose faces you will never
behold till the last dr.y."

It is now time to tui'n fr. );n Dr. Clialmer? in liis
study and pulpit, to Dr. Chalmers in hi.-, hard-work-
ing life of everyday usefulness. And here we shall
find no dreaming thorist, contented \\\\\\ firesitle
musing upon the l)est ]>lans of ameliorating the evils
of society, or daunted midw.^.y liy the difhculties of
the attempt. Considering what lie had already done,
there was none who enuld mure justly have claimed
the full privileges uf li.erary leisure and retirement.

Hut when he threw off the throng of extraneous oc-
cupation that surrounded him, it was only that he
might have room for equally arduous employment, in
which the "full proof of his ministry" more especially
consisted. It was not enough that he should see and
address his congregation; he must visit the houses,
examine the families, and lx;come ac<iuainted with
the individuals of which th.at congregation was com-
posed. He must alsij bring himself in contact with
those of his pari.>,h who behjiiged to no congregation
— the vicious, the reckless, the ignorant, and the poor
— and endeavour, by his favourite jiroccss of "excava-
tion," to bring them out from their murky conceal-
ments into the light of day, and the elevating influence
of gospel ordinances. Twelve- thousand souls to be
visited I — but is not a soul worth looking after? To
work therefore he went as soon as he became minister
of the Tron Church jjarish, undergoing an amount of
bodily labour such as few would have cared to en-
counter, but resolute not to abandon the task until
it was completed. A few weeks thus employed
enaliled him to ascertain what evils existed as well
as what remedies should be apjdied. It was neces-
sar)' that the destitute and the outcast of his jjarisli
should be frequently visited, and for the performance
of this duty he infused his own active spirit into the
eldership by which he was surrounded. The fearful
ignorance that was accumulating among the young
of the lower orders must be disper.sed; and, fjr this
purpose, he organized a society among his congrega-
tion for the establishment of Sabbath-schools in the
j^arish. These schools became so mimerous, and su
well attended, that in two years they numbered 1200
children, receiving regular religious instruction. .V
single close furnished the nccessaiy amount of pujiils
f )r a school; and the teacher who visited its families
fjr the purpose of bringing them out was taught to
watch over that little locality as his own especial
parish.

This course of daily labour and visitation had its
prospective as well as immediate benefits. L'r.
Chalmers had hitherto witnessed poverty and it~
results only ujion a small scale. It was here a
family, and there an individual, over the extent t f
a country parish; and for these cases jirivate benev'.^-
lence and the c(jntributions at the church-dmjr had
generally been found sufficient. iSut now he wr.s
l)rought into close contact with poverty and destitu-
tion acting upon society in thousands, and pnukicing
an aggravation of crime as well as miseiy, such as
his rural experience had never witnessed. Lor ail
this, however, he was not wholly unprej^ared. lb-
had already studieii the sidjject in the abstract, and
he found tliat now was the time, and here the her,'.,
to bring his theories on the suliieet into fall opera-
tion. His idea, from all he witnessed, was but the
more strongly confirmed that tlie simple ]iar.'chial
apparatus of .Scotland, so efteetual fi)r the relief "t'
a village or country parish, ^^■()uld be equally effiea-
cious for a populous city, and that recourse t'l j'oi r-
rates and cominilsory charit_\ would only totter \\\-
evil which it aimed to cure. This co:;\ic;!on I.e
now endeavoured to impress, not or.Iy in coiin er-.v
tion and by public speeches, br.t alsi
on "Pauperism" in the Kd:i:'-::)\h
series of essays, \\hich he afterward'.-
the Civic and C'ir;st:a;i /-'.rivimiv rf
IJut to go to the xery source of p. pveri
once at the root, was liis ch.ici" aim:
only be acconipli^lied by ir.doctrir.atin
a crowded citv witli the } riiiciple- 1
dustry, inilepeii'ience, and ni
too, the parocliial sy~;e:ii ha/i
adequate provision ■_!' churjli ac

. I.v h> anicle-
Krr :.-:.: ?.vA ;

. i^uMi-he-1, ( n

\'. aiii -ti ike a!
and !lii> eoul i

- ot' C !■.!

lity. I-;

:itemplat
iimodat:.

336

THOMAS CHALMERS.

struction ; but unfortunately, while the population
of the country had been nearly trebled, the church
provision had remained stationary. The consequence
was, that even in his own parish of the Tron there
were not a third who attended any church, notwith-
standing the additional accommodation which dissent
had furnished. And such, or still worse, was tiie
state of matters over the whole of Glasgow. Wliat
he therefore wanted was "twenty more churches,
and twenty more ministers" for that city alone; and
this Jcsidcratum he boldly announced in his sermon on
the death of the Princess Charlotte in 1817. Such a
conclusion was but the unavoidable result of a train
of premises to which all were ready to assent, while
the demand itself, instead of being extravagant, was
considerably short of the emergency. And yet it
was clamoured at, and cried down in every form of
argument and ridicule as the wildest of all benevolent
extravagancies, and even the addition of a single
church, which the magistrates had decided a few
months previous, was thought too much. But strong
in the confidence of truth, Dr. Chalmers held fast
to his much-decried doctrine until he had the satis-
faction of finding his church-extension principle gene-
rally adopted, and not 20, but 200, additional churches
erected in our towns and cities, to attest the soundness
of his argument, and reward the zeal with which he
had urged it.

The one additional church to which we have ad-
verted was that of St. John's, of which he was elected
to be minister, with a new parish attached to it of
10,000 persons, almost entirely operatives. It re-
dounds to the honour of the magistrates and town-
council of Glasgow to state, that this erection of a
new ])arish and church was for the purpose of giving
Dr. Chalmers full opportunity of testing the parochial
principle as applied to large towns; and that for this
purpose they freed him from those restrictions which
had gathered upon the old city charges, and conceded
to him and his kirk-session a separate independent
parochial jurisdiction. The building being finished,
was opened on the 26th .Septemi^er, 1819, and
crowded by its nnw parishioners, who had now their
own church and minister, while the latter met them
with equal ardour, and commenced at once the duties
of his new sphere. He was ably seconded by his
elders, a numerous body of active, intelligent, devoted
men, and by the deacons, whose office was restored to
its original efficiency under his superintendence; and
as each had his own particular district to which his
labours were confined, every family and every indi-
vidual in the new parish, containing a jiopulation of
10,000, had his own sjiiritual and temporal condition
more or loss attended to. In addition to these aids,
he was soon surrounded by eighty .Sabbath-school
teachers, each su|>erintendiiig the religious education
of the children belonging to his own little locality.
These labours were not long c<jntinued until another
great parochial want called forth the attention of
Dr. Chalmers. It was the slate of secular education,
which, defective as it was throughout Glasgow in
general, was peculiarly so in the new jjarish, whose
population chiefly consi.-.ted of weavers, labourers,
and factory- workers — ])ersons who were unable to
obtain a good education for their children, notwith-
standing its cheapness as compared with that of
England. On account of this, it was soon found in
the .Sabbath-schools that many of the children could
not read a single verse of Scrii)ture without such
hammering as to make its meaning unintelligible.
Something must be done, and that instantly, to
counteract the evil. But mere charity-schools and
gratis education were an abomination to thi; doctor,
wlicj well knew that what is got for nothing is

generally reckoned worth nothing, and treated ac-
cordingly. The best education at the cheapest rate
— the independence of the poor secured, while their
children were efficiently taught — this was the happy
medium which he sought, and which he found ready
to his hand in the plan of Scottish parochial educa-
tion. Let such a salary be secured for the teacher,
that an active and accomplished man will find it
worth his while to devote himself to the work; but,
at the same time, let the small school-fees of the
pupils be such as to secure the feeling of personal
independence, and make them value the instruction
for which a price is exacted. An "education com-
mittee" was therefore established for St. John's; sub-
scriptions were set on foot {ox the erection and en-
dowment of schools; and when a sufficient sum ^^•as
procured, a desirable site was found for the building
of the first school. The ground was the property of
the college, and Dr. Chalmers repaired to its head,
the venerable Principal Taylor, to obtain it upon
such cheap terms as the case justly demanded.
"Ah I" said the principal shaking his head, "we have
been talking about establishing parochial schools in
Glasgow for tL*:se twenty years." "Yes," replied
Dr. Chalmers, "but now we are going to do tlie
thing, not to talk about it; we are going to take the
labour of talking and planning completely off your
hands." This good-humoured application was suc-
cessful; and by the middle of 1820 the school was
finished, and the work of teaching commenced under
two efficient schoolmasters. Another school was
soon erected by the same prompt liberality that had
supplied funds for the first, and conducted also by
two able masters. The four teachers had each a
fixed salary of ^25 per annum, and a free house, in
addition to the fees of 2s. per quarter for reading,
and 3s. for reading, writing, arithmetic and book-
keeping, while the right of admission was limited to
parishioners exclusively. There was full need of this
restriction, for so highly were the benefits of this
system of education appreciated, that the two schools
had 419 pupils. Even when the doctor left Glasgow,
also, tlie work was still going on through fresh con-
tributions and erections, so that about 800 children
belonging to the parish were furnished with the
means of a complete and liberal education, at a
small expense. Such a heavy and complicated
amount of toil as all this organization involved, would
have been impossible for any one man, however
energetic, and even Dr. Chalmers himself would
have sunk beneath the load liefore his four years' ex-
periment in St. John's had expired, had it not been
for the efficient aid which he received from his assis-
tant the Rev. Etlward Irving. Contemplating the
vast amount of work which he had proposed to him-
self in his trial of the ]iarochial system, as applied to
large towns, it had been considerately resolved llial
a regular assistant should be allowed him in the task;
and by a train of fi^rtuitous circumstances, that office
was devolved u]ion a congenial s])irit — one to the full
as wonderful in his own way as Dr. Chalmers, but
whose career was afterwards to be so erratic, and
finally so mournful and disastrous. At present, how-
ever, the mind of Irving, although swelling with
high aspirations, was regulated, controlled, and
directed by the higher intellect and gentler s]>irit of
his illustrious ])rinci]ial, so that his vast ])owers, both
])hysical and mental, were brought fully to bear upon
their ]>i()pcr work. Nothing, indeed, could be a
more complete contrast than the genuine sini]>licity
and rustic bearing of Dr. Chalmers, com]>ared with
tlie colossal form, .Salvator Rosa countenance, and
startling mode of address that distinguished his gifted
a-,-,istant. But diflercnt as they were in external

THOMAS CHALMERS.

337

appearance and manner, their purpose and work were
the same, and both were indefatigable in advancing
the intellectual and spiritual interests of the parish
of St. John's. Little, indeed, could it have been
augured of these two remarkable men, that in a few
years after they would be the founders of two churches,
and that these churches should be so different in
their doctrines, character, and bearings.

After having laboured four years in the ministerial
charge of St. John's parish, a new change was to
take place in the life of Dr. Chalmers, by the ful-
filment of one of his earliest aspirations. It will be
remembered, that in the period of his youth, when
he was about to commence his ministry in the parish
of Kilmany, his earnest wishes were directed towards
a chair in the university of St. Andrews; and now,
after the lapse of more than twenty years, his desires
were to be gratified. The professorship of moral
philosophy in that university had become vacant,
and it was felt by the professors that none was so well
fitted to occupy the charge, and increase the literary
reputation of the college, as Dr. Chalmers, their
honoured alnmnits, whose reputation was now diffused
over Europe. The offer, also, which was neither of
his own seeking nor expecting, was tendered in the
most respectful manner. Such an application from
his alma ntatcr, with which his earliest and most
affectionate remembrances were connected, did not
solicit him in vain; and after signifying his consent,
he was unanimously elected to the office on the 1 8th
January, 1823. Six different applications had pre-
viously been made to him from various charges since
his arrival in Glasgow, but these he had steadfastly
refused, for he felt that there he had a work to ac-
complish, to which every temptation of ecclesiastical
])romotion or literary ease must be postponed. But
now the case was different. The machinery which
he had set in motion with sucli immense exertion,
might now be carried on by an ordinary amount of
clTort, and therefore could be intrusted to a meaner
hand. His own health had suffered by the labour,
and needed both repose and change. He felt, also,
that a new career of usefulness in the cause of religion
might be opened up to him by the occupation of a
university chair, and the opportunities of literary
leisure which it would afford him. And no charge
of self-seeking, so liljerally applied in cases of clerical
translation, could be urged in the present instance;
as the transition was from a large to a smaller in-
come; and from a thronging city, where he stood in
tlie full blaze of his reputation, to a small and remote
county town, where the highest merit would be apt
to sink into obscurity. Aluch gnmibling, indeed,
tiiere was throughout Glasgow at large, and not a
little disappointment expressed by the kirk-session
of St. Jolm's, when the proposed movement was an-
nounced; but the above-mentioned reasons had at
last their proper weight, and the final parting was
one of mutual tenderness and esteem. The eftect of
his eight years' labours in that city is thus summed
uj) by his eloquent biographer, the Rev. Dr. Hanna:
— -"When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, by the
great body of the ujijier classes of society evangelical
doctrines were nauseated and despised; when he left
it, even by those wlio did not bow to their influence,
tiiese doctrines were acknowledged to be indeed the
very doctrines of the IJible. "\Vhen Dr. Chalmers
came to Glasgow, in tlie eye of the multitude evan-
gelism stood confounded with a drivelling sancti-
moniousness or a sour-minded asceticism; when he
left it, from all such false associations the Christianity
of the New Testament stood clearly and nobly re-
deemed. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow,
for nearly a centur)- the magistrates and town-council

VOL. I.

had exercised the city patronage in a spirit deter-
minately anti-evangelical; when he left it, so complete
was the revolution which had been effected, that from
that time forward none but evangelical clerg)'men
were appointed by the city patrons. When Dr.
Chalmers came to Glasgow, there, and elsewhere
over Scotland, there were many most devoted clergy-
men of the Establishment who had given themselves
up wholly to the ministry of the Word and to prayer,
but there was not one in whose faith and practice
week-day ministrations had the place or power which
he assigned to them; when he left it he had exhibited
such a model of fidelity, diligence, and activity in
all departments of ministerial labour, as told finally
upon the spirit and practice of the whole ministry of
Scotland. When Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow,
unnoticed thousands of the city population were
sinking into ignorance, infidelity, and vice, and his
eye was the first in this country to foresee to what a
fearful magnitude that evil, if suffered to grow on
unchecked, would rise; when he left it, his ministry
in that city remained behind him, a permanent warn-
ing to a nation which has been but slow to learn
that the greatest of all questions, both for statesmen
and for churchmen, is the condition of those untaught
and degraded thousands who swarm now around the
base of the social edifice, and whose brawny arms
may yet grasp its pillars to shake or to destroy. When
Dr. Chalmers came to Glasgow, in the literary
circles of the .Scottish metropolis a thinly disguised
infidelity sat on the seats of greatest influence, and
smiled or scoffed at a vital energetic faith in the great
and distinctive truths of revelation, while widely
over his native land the spirit of a frigid indifference
to religion prevailed ; when he left it, the current of
public sentiment had begim to set in a contran.'
direction; and although it took many years, and the
labour of many other hands, to carry that healthful
change onward to maturity, yet I believe it is not
over-estimating it to say, that it was mainly by Dr.
Chalmers' ministry in Glasgow — by his efforts at this
period in the pulpit and through the press — that the
tide of national opinion and sentiment was turned."

Dr. Chalmers delivered his farewell sermon on
November 9, 1S23, and on this occasion such was
the crowding, not only of his affectionate flock, but
admirers from every (juarter, that the church, which
was built to accommotiate 1700 hearers, on this occa-
sion contained twice that number. On the nth, a
farewell dinner was given to him by 340 gentlemen;
and at the close, when he rose to retire, all the guests
stood up at once to honour his departure, "(ientle-
men," said the doctor, overwhelmed by this last
token, and turning repeatedly to everv' quarter, 'T
cannot utter a hundredth part of what I feel — but I
will do better — I will bear it all away." He was
gone, and all felt as if the head of wisdom, and heart
of cordial affection and Christian love, and tongue of
commanding and persuasive eloquence, that hitherto
had been the life and soul of Glasgow, had de-
parted with him. If anything could have consoled
liim after such a parting, it must have been the re-
ception that welcomed his arrival in St. Andrews,
where he delivered his introductory lecture seven
days after, the signal tli.it his new career of action
had begmi.

So closely had Dr. Chalmers a.lb.ered to his
clerical duties in Gl.isgow to the last, that on his
arrival in St. Andrews, his whole stock for the com-
mencement of the course of moral ]'hilosO]ihy con-
sisted of only a few days' lectures. Hut nothing can
more gratity an energetic mind that has tully tested
its own powers, than the luxun.- of sueli a difticuhy.
It is no woniler, tlierelbre, to tind him thus wntiiig

22

338

THOMAS CHALMERS.

in the latter part of the session: "I shall be lectur-
ing for six weeks yet, and am very nearly from hand-
to-mouth with my preparations. I have the pro-
spect of winning the course, though it will be by no
more than the length of half a neck; but I like the
employment vastly." Most of these lectures were
afterwards published as they were written — a sure
indication of the deeply concentrated power and
matchless diligence with which he must have oc-
cupied the winter months. It was no mere student
auditory, also, for which he had exclusively to write
during each day the lecture of the morrow; for the
benches of the class-room were crowded by the in-
tellectual from every quarter, who had repaired to
St. Andrews to hear the doctor's eloquence upon a
new theme. Even when the session was over, it
brought no such holiday season as might have been
expected ; for he was obliged to prepare for the great
controversy upon the plurality question, which, after
having undergone its course in presbytery and synod,
was finally to be settled in the General Assembly,
the opening of which was at hand. The point
at issue, upon which the merits of the case now
rested, was whether, in consistency with the laws of
the church, Dr. Macfarlan could hold conjunctly the
office of principal of the university of Glasgow and
minister of the Inner High Church in tlie same city?
On this occasion. Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Thomson
spoke against the connection of offices with their
wonted eloquence; but the case was so completely
prejudged and settled, that no earthly eloquence
could have availed, and the question in favour of the
double admission was carried by a majority of twenty-
six. In much of the proceedings of this Assembly
Dr. Chalmers took a part, among which was the
proposal of erecting a new Gaelic church in Glasgow,
This measure he al)ly and successfully advocated, so
that it passed by a large majority. Only a fortnight
after the Assembly had closed he was in Glasgow,
and more busy there if possible than ever, having
engaged to preach for six consecutive Sabbaths in
the chapel which, at his instigation, had been erected
as an auxiliary to the parish church of St. John's.
Here, however, he was not to rest; for, while thus
occupied with his former flock, he received an urgent
invitation to preach at Stockport, for the benefit of
the Sabbath-school established there — a very dif-
ferent school from those of Scotland for the same
purpose, being built at a great expense, and capable
of accommodating 4000 cliildren. He complied;
but on reaching England he was mortified, and even
disgusted, to find, that the wliole service was to be
one of those half-religious half-theatrical exhibitions,
so greatly in vogue in our own day, in which the
one-half of the service seems intended to mock the
other. He was to conduct tlie usual solemnities of
prayer and preaching, and, so far, the wliole affair
was to partake of the religious character; but, in ad-
dition to himself as principal performer, a hundred
instrumental and vocal artists were engaged for the
occasion, who were to rush in at the close of the
pulpit ministrations with all the secularities of a con-
cert or oratorio. The doctor was indignant, and
remonstrated with the managers of the arrangement,
but it was too late. All he could obtain was, that
these services should be kept apart from each other,
instead of being blended togellier, as had been origi-
nally intended. Accordingly, he entered the pulpit,
conducted the solemn services as he was wont, and
preached to a congregation of 3500 auditors, after
which he retired, and left the managers to their own
devices; and before he had fairly escaped from the
Ijuilding, a tremendous volley of bassoons, flutes,
violins, bass-viols, and serpents, burst upon his car,

and accelerated the speed of his departure. The
collection upon this occasion amounted to ;i{^40C) —
but might it not be said to have been won too
dearly?

The course of next winter at St. Andrews was
commenced under the most favourable auspices, and
more than double the number of students attended
the moral philosophy class-room than had been wont
in former sessions. Still true, moreover, to his old
intellectual predilections, he also opened a separate
class for political economy, which he found to be
still more attractive to the students than the science
of ethics. Nothing throughout could exceed the en-
thusiasm of the pupils, and their affection for their
amiable and distinguished preceptor, who was fre-
quently as ready to walk with them and talk with
them as to lecture to them. Thus the course of
1824-25 went onward to its close, after which he
again commenced his duties as a member of the
General Assembly, and entered with ardour into the
subject of church plurality, upon which he spoke
sometimes during the course of discussion. It was
during this conflict that a frank generous avowal
was made by Dr. Chalmers that electrified the whole
meeting. On the second day of the debate, a mem-
ber upon the opposite side quoted from an anony-
mous pamphlet the declaration of its author's ex-
perience, that "after the satisfactory discharge of his
parish duties, a minister may enjoy five days in the
week of uninternipted leisure for the prosecution of
any science in which his taste may dispose him to
engage." When this was read, every eye was turned
to Dr. Chalmers; it was the pamphlet he had pub-
lished twenty years ago, when the duties of the
ministerial office appeared to him in a very different
light than they now did. He considered its resur-
rection at such a period as a solemn call to humilia-
tion and confession, and from this unpalatable duty
he did not for a moment shrink. Rising in his
place, he declared that the production was his own.
"I now confess myself," he added, "to have been
guilty of a heinous crime, and I now stand a repen-
tant culprit before the bar of this venerable assembly."
After stating the time and the occasion in which it
originated, he went on in the following words: — "I
was at that time, sir, more devoted to mathematics
than to the literature of my profession; and, feeling
grieved und indignant at what I conceived an undue
reflection on the abilities and education of our clergy,
I came forward with that pamphlet, to rescue them
from what I deemed an unmerited reproach, by
maintaining that a devoted and exclusive attention
to the study of mathematics was not dissonant to
the proper habits of a clergyman. Alas ! sir, so I
thought in my ignorance and pride. 1 have now no
reserve in saying that the sentiment was wrong,
and that, in the utterance of it, I penned what was
most outrageously wrong. Strangely blinded that
I was! Wliat, sir, is the object of mathematical
science? Magnitucle and the proportions of magni-
tude. I'ut thai, sir, 1 had forgotten tioo niagniludcs
— I thought not of the littleness of time — I recklessly
thouglit not of the greatness of eternity."

Hitherto the course of Dr. Chalmers at St. An-
drews had been comfortable and tranquil; but this
state was to continue no longer. It would have
been strange, indeed, if one who so exchisively en-
joyed the popularity of the town and its colleges,
should have been permitted to enjoy it without aii-
n(jyance. In the first instance, too, his grievances
arose from that very evil of church plurality of which
he had at first been the tolerant advocate, and after-
wards the uncompromising antagonist. A vacancy
having occurred in the city parish of St. Leonards,

THOMAS CHALMERS.

339

the charge was bestowed, not upon a free unencum-
bered man, but upon one of the professors, whose
college labours were enough for all his time and
talent; and as he was unacceptable as a preacher,
many 6f the students, among whom an unwonted
earnestness had of late been awakened upon the im-
portant subject of religion, were desirous of enjoying
a more efiicient ministry. But an old law of the
college made it imperative that they should give their
Sabbath attendance at the church of St. Leonards;
and when they petitioned for liberty to select their
own place for worship and religious instruction, their
application was refused, although it was backed by
tiiat of their parents. It was natural that Dr.
Chalmers should become their advocate; and almost
equally natural that in recjuital he should be visited
by the collective wrath of his brethren of the se/ia/us.
They had decerned that the request of the students
was unreasonable and mutinous; and turning ujjon
the doctor himself, they represented him as one given
up to new-fangled ideas of Christian liberty, and
hostile to the interests of tlie Established Church.
A still more vexatious subject of discussion arose
from the appropriation of the college funds, the
surplus of which, instead of being laid out to repair
the dilapidated buildings, as had been intended, was
annually divided among the professors after the cur-
rent expenses of the classes had been defrayed. Dr.
Chalmers thought this proceeding not only an illegal
stretch of authority on the part of tlie professors, but
also a perilous temptation; and on finding that they
would not share in his scruples, he was obliged to
adopt the only conscientious step that remained —
he refused his share of tlie spoil during the five years
of his continuance at St. Andrews. Tiius the case
continueil until 1827, when the royal commission
that had been appointed for the examination of the
Scottish universities arrived at St. Andrews, and
commenced their searching incpiest. Dr. Chalmers,
wiio hoped on this occasion that the evils of which
he complained would be redressed, underwent in
his turn a long course of examination, in which he
fearlessly laid open the whole subject, and proposed
the obvious remedy. But in this complaint he stood
alone; the commissioners listened to liis suggestions,
and left the case as they found it. Another depart-
ment of college reform, which had for some time
been the object of his anxious solicitude, was passed
over in the same manner. It concerned the neces-
sary training of the pupils previous to their com-
mencement of a college education. At our Scottish
universities the students were admitted at a mere
school-boy age, when they knew scarcely any Latin,
and not a word of Greek; and thus the classical
education of our colleges was such as would have
been fitter for a mere whipping-school, in which
tiiese languages had to be commenced n!' ///1//0, than
seats of learning in which such attainments were to
be matured ami perfected. To rectify this gross de-
fect, the iirojiosal of Dr. Clialmers suggested the
erection of gymnasia attached to the colleges, where
these youths should undergo a previous complete
training in tlie mere mechanical parts of classical
learning, and thus be fitted, on their entrance into
college, for the h!L;hc.-t departments of Creek and
Roman scholarship. ISut here, also, his appeals
were ineffectual; ami .it the present day, and in the
country of liuclianan and Melville, the university
classes of Latin anil Greek admit such jnipils, and
exhibit such defects, as would excite the contempt
oi an I'^ton or Westminster school-boy.

It was well for Dr. Chalmers that amidst all this
hostility and disappointment he had formed for him-
self a satisfiicton' source of consolation. At his

arrival in St. Andrews, and even amidst the toil of
preparation for the duties of his new office, he had
longed for the relief that would be afforded by the
communication of religious instruction; for in becom-
ing a professor of science he had not ceased to be a
minister of the gospel. As soon, therefore, as the
bustle of the first session was ended, he threw him-
self with alacrity into the lowly office of a Sabbath-
school teacher. He went to work also in his own
methodical fashion, by selecting a district of the town
to which his labours were to be confined, visiting
its families one by one, and inviting the children to
join the class which he was about to form for meeting
at his own house on the Sabbath evenings. And
there, in the midst of these poor children, sat one of
the most profound and elcMjuent of men— one at
whose feet the great, the wise, and the accomplished
had been proud to sit; while the striking picture is
heightened by the fact, that even for these humble
prelections and examinations, his questions were
written out, and his exj^lanations prepared as if he
had been to confront the General Assembly or the
British senate. In the hands of a talented arti>t
would not such a subject furnish a true Christian
counterpart to that of Marius sitting among the ruins
of Carthage? At the third session this duty was ex-
changed for one equally congenial, and still more im-
])ortant, arising from the request of some of the
parents of liis college pupils, that he would take
charge of the religious education of their sons by re-
ceiving them into his house on the evenings of the
.Sabbath. With a desire so closely connected with
his professional office through the week, he gladly
complied, after having intrusted his Sabbath-school
children to careful teachers who laboured under his
direction. These student meetings at first were as-
sembled around his fireside, in the character of a
little family circle, and as such he wished it to con-
tinue; but so greatly was the privilege valued, and
so numerous were the applications for admission, that
the circle gradually expanded into a class which his
ample drawing-room could scarcely contain. These
examples were not long in producing their proper
fruits. The students of St. Andrews, animated by
such a pattern, bestirred themselves in the division of
the town into districts and the formation of Sabbath-
schools; and in the course of their explorations fur
the purpose, they discovered, even in that ancient
seat of learning and city of colleges, an amount of
ignorance and religious indiffi;rence such as they had
never suspected to be lying around them till now.
Another and an cciually natural direction into which
the impulse was turned was that of missionary exer-
tion; and on Dr. Chalmers having accepted the office of
president of a missionary society, the students caught
new ardour from the addresses which he delivered,
and the reports he read to them at the meetings.
The consequence was, that a missionary society was
formed for the students themselves, in which a third
of those belonging to the united colleges were sj-ieedily
enrolleil. It was a wonderful change in St. .■\:iii:e\\ -.
so long the very Lethe of religious inditierencc .ir.d
unconcern, and among its jiupil.-, S(.i fciiicl anujr.g
the other colleges of Scotland for riot, recklc-Mie.— ,
and dissipation. .A.nd the result showe-l thit th.i-
was no fever-fit of passing emotion, bi:t a jerm-ineiit
.and substantial reality. For many ot t:;'-e .-•.U'lent-
who mo>t distinguished them--elvc.- by ilicr zeal tor
missions were also distingui-hcd as diligent t.ileiited
scholars, and attained the highe-t honour- of the uni-
versity. Not a few of them now occupy our puljiits,
and .ire among the most noted in the cimrch tor zeal,
ehjqucnce, and ministerial (liligence and fidelity.
.\ml more than all, several of thcin were a'.rea iy in

340

THOMAS CHALMERS.

training for that high missionary office whose claims
they so earnestly advocated, and are now to be found
labouring in the good work in the four quarters of
the world. Speaking of Dr. Chalmers at this period,
one of the most accomplished of his pupils, and now
the most distinguished of our missionaries, thus
writes: — "Perhaps the most noticeable peculiarity
connected with the whole of this transformative pro-
cess was the indirect, rather than the direct, mode in
which the effectuating influence was exerted. It did
not result so much from any direct and formal exhor-
tation on the part of Dr. Chalmers as from the general
awakening and suggestive power of his lectures, the
naked force of his own personal piety, and the spread-
ing contagiousness of his own personal example. He
carried about with him a better than talismanic virtue,
by which all who came in contact with him were
almost unconsciously influenced, moulded, and im-
pelled to imitate. He did not formally assemble his
students, and in so many set terms formally exhort
them toconstitute themselves into missionary societies,
open Sabbath-schools, commence prayer-meetings,
and such like. No; in the course of his lectures he
communicated something of his own life and warmth,
and expounded principlesof which objects likethepre-
ceding were some of the natural ex])onents and develop-
ments. He then faithfully exemplified the principles
propounded in his own special actings and general
conduct. He was known to be a man of prayer; he
was acknowledged to be a man of active benevolence.
He was observed to be going about from house to
house exhorting adults on the concerns of their sal-
vation, and devoting his energies to the humble task
of gathering around him a Sabbath-school. He was
seen to be the sole reviver of an all but defunct mis-
sionary society. All these, and other such like traits
of character and conduct being carefully noted, how
could they who intensely admired, revered, and loved
the man, do less than endeavour, at however great
a distance, to tread in his footsteps and imitate so
noble a pattern?"

Such was the tenor of his course in St. Andrews
until he was about to be transferred into another and
more important field. The first effort made for this
removal was an offer on the part of government of
the chargeof the parish of St. Cuthberl's, Edinburgh,
which had become vacant by the death of the
Rev. Sir Henry Moncrieff To succeed such a man,
and hold such a clerical appointment, which was one
of the best in Scotland, were no ordinary tempta-
tions; but Dr. Chalmers was now fully persuaded
that the highest, most sacred, and most eft'icicnt
oftlce in the church consisted in the training of a
learned and pious ministry, and therefore he refused
the offer, notwithstanding the very inferior emolu-
ments of his present charge, and the annoyances
with which it was surrounded. Another vacancy
shortly afterwards occurred that was more in coinci-
dence with his princi])les. This was the divinity
chair of the university of Iviinburgli, that had become
vacant by the resignation of Dr. Ritchie; and to tills
charge he was unanimously elected by the magistrates
and town-council of Edinburgh on the 31st October,
1827. The appointment on this occasion was cor-
dially accepted, for it transferred him from the limited
sphere of a county town to the capital, and from a
j)rofcssorship of ethics, the mere handmaid of theology,
to that of theology itself As he had not to com-
mence his duties until the beginning of the next
year's session, he had thus a considerable interval for
preparation, which he employed to the uttermost.
Tlie subjects of lecturing, too, which comj^riscd
natural theology and the evidences of Christianity,
had for years Ijcen his favourite study. His class-

room, as soon as the course commenced, was inun-
dated, not merely with regular students, but with
clergymen of every church, and gentlemen of every
literary or scientific profession, all eager to hear syste-
matic theology propounded by such a teacher. All
this was well; but when a similar torrent attempted
to burst into his domestic retirement, and sweej)
away his opportunities of preparation, he was obliged
to repel it with unwonted bluntness. "I have now,"
he said, "a written jiaper in my lobby, shown by my
servant to all and sundry who are making mere calls
of attention, which is just telling them, in a civil
way, to go about their business. If anything will
check intrusion, this at length must." During this
session, also. Dr. Chalmers was not only fully occu-
pied with his class, but with the great question
of Catholic emancipation, which was now on the eve
of a final decision. A public meeting was held in
Edinburgh on the 14th of March to petition in favour
of the measure; and it was there that he advocated
the bill in favour of emancipation in one of the most
eloquent speeches he had ever uttered. The effect
was tremendous, and at its close the whole assembly
started to their feet, waved their hats, and rent the
air with deafening shouts of applause for several
minutes. Even the masters and judges of eloquence
who were present were similarly moved, and Lord
Jeffrey declared it as his opinion that never had elo-
quence produced a greater effect upon a popular as-
sembly, and that he could not believe more had ever
been done by the oratory of Demosthenes, Cicero,
Burke, or Sheridan.

After the college session had ended, Dr. Chalmers
was not allowed to retire into his beloved seclusion.
Indeed, his opinions were now of .such weight with
the public mind, and his services so valuable, that he
was considered as a public property, and used ac-
cordingly. It was for this cause that our statesmen
who advocated Catholic emancipation were so earnest
that he should give full publicity to his sentiments on
the subject. When this duty was discharged, another
awaited him: it was to repair to London and unfold
his views on pauperism before a committee of the
House of Commons, with reference to the proposal
of introducing the English system of poor-laws into
Ireland. During this visit to London he had the
honour of being appointed, without any solicitation
on his part, one of the chaplains of his majesty
for Scotland. On returning home another visit to
London was necessary, as one of the members of a
dejiutation sent from the Church of Scotland to con-
gratulate William IV. on his accession to the throne.
It is seldom that our .Scottish presbyters are to be
found in kings' palaces, so that the ordeal of a royal
presentation is generally sulhcient to puzzle their
wisest. Thus felt Dr. Chalmers upon the occasion;
and in the amusing letters which he wrote home to
his children he describes with full glee tlie difficulty
he ex]-)erienced from his cocked hat, and the buttons
of his court dress. The questions put to him at this
presentation were of solemn import, as issuing from
kingly lijjs: "Do you reside constantly in luiin-
burgh?" "How long do you remain in town?"
He returned to the labours of his class-room and
the prej'iaration of his elaborate work on Political
Economy, which had employed his thoughts for
years, and was published at the begiiming of 1832.
This care of authorshi]i in behalf of principles which
he knew to be generally unpalatable, was further ag-
gravated by the jiassing of the Reform Rill, to which
he was decidedly hostile. After his work on Political
Economy, which fared as he had foreseen, being
roughly handled liy tlie jirincipal critics of the day,
ai:a;nst whose favourite doctrines it militated, he

THOMAS CHALMERS.

34 »

published his well-known Bridgwater treatise, On
the Adaptation of External Nature to the Moral and
Intellectual Constitution of Man. At the same
period the cholera, which in its tremendous but
erratic marcli had arrived in the island, and com-
menced its havoc in Newcastle and Sunderland, pro-
ceeded northward, and entered like a destroying
angel within tlie gates of Edinburgh, which it fdled
with confusion and dismay. As its ravages went
onward, the people became so maddened as to raise
riots round the cholera hospitals, and treat the
physicians, who attended on the patients at the risk
of their own lives, with insult and violence. This
exhibition was so afflictive to Dr. Chalmers, that he
expressed his feelings upon the subject in the most
impressive manner that a human being can possibly
adopt — this was in public prayer, upon the national
fast in St. George's Church, while he was earnestly
beseeching that tiie plague might be stayed, and the
people spared. "We pray, O Lord, in a more
especial manner," he thus supplicated, "for those
patriotic men whose duty calls them to a personal
encounter with this calamity, and who, braving all
the hazards of infection, may be said to stand between
the living and the dead. Save them from the attacks
of disease; save them from the obloquies of miscon-
ception and prejudice; and may they have the bless-
ings and acknowledgments of a grateful community
to encourage them in their labours." On the same
evening a lord of session requested that this portion
of the prayer should be committed to writing, and
made more public, in the hope of arresting that
insane popular odium which had risen against the
medical board. The prayer was soon printed and
circulated through the city.

In the year 1832 Dr. Chalmers was raised to the
highest honour which the Cliurch of Scotland can
bestow, by being appointed moderator of the General
Assembly. In this office he liad the courage to
oppose, and the good fortune to remove, an abuse
that had grown upon the churcli until it had become
a confirmed practice. It was now tlie use and wont
of every commissioner to give public dinners, not
only upon the week-days, but the Sabbaths of the
Assembly's sitting, while the moderator sanctioned
this practice by giving public breakfasts on the same
day. In the eyes of tlie doctor this was a desecra-
tion of the sacred day, and he stated his feelings to
Lord Belhaven, the commissioner, on the subject.
The appeal was so effectual that the practice was
discontinued, and has never since been resumed.
At this Assembly, also, a fearful note was sounded,
predictive of a coming contest. It was upon the
tibnoxious subject of patronage, against which the
])opular voice of Scotland had protested so long and
loudly, but in vain. Overtures from eight presl)y-
teries antl tliroc synods were sent up to this Assemby,
stating, "That whereas the practice of church courts
for many years had reduced the call to a mere
firmality; and wlicreas this practice has a direct
tendency to alienate t!ie affections of the people of
Scotland from the Est.ablished Churcli; it is over-
tured, that such measures as may be deemed necessary
be adopted, in order to restore tiie call to its con-
stitutional cfticicncy." An animated debate was the
consequence, and at last tlie motion of Principal
Macfarlan, "tliat the Assembly judge it unnecessary
and inexpedient to adopt tlie measures recommended
in the overtures now before tliem," w.as carried by
a majority of forty-two. From the office which he
held, Dr. Chalmers could only be a prositling
onlooker of the debate; but in the Assembly of next
year, when the subject was resumed, he had an open
arena before him, which he was not slow to occupy.

On this occasion, the eleven overtures of the preced-
ing year had swelled into forty-five, a growth that
indicated the public feeling with unmistakable sig-
nificance. The two principal speakers in the discus-
sion that followed were Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook,
and each tendered his motion before the Assembly.
That of Dr. Chalmers was to the effect, that efficiency
should be given to the call, by declaring the dissent
of a majority of the male heads of families in a
parish, with or without the assignment of reasons,
should be sufficient to set asi<ie the presentee, unless
these reasons were founded in malicious combina-
tion, or manifestly incorrect as to his ministerial gifts
and qualifications. The counter-motion of Dr. Cook
was, that while it is competent for the heads of
families to give in to the presbytery objections of
whatever nature against the presentee, the presbytery
shall consider these objections, and if they find them
unfounded, shall proceed to the settlement. This
was carried only by a majority of twelve, and
mainly, also, by the strength of the eldership, as a
majority of twenty ministers was in favour of the
motion of Dr. Chalmers. It was easy to see,
however, in what direction the tide had set, and with
what force and volume it would go onward. At the
next Assembly a full trial was to be made that should
be conclusive upon the point at issue. Dr. Chalmers
on this occasion was not a member, but his motion
of the preceding year was again brought before the
.Assembly by Lord Moncrieff, in the form of an
"Overture and Interim Act on Calls," and expressed
as follows: — "The General Assembly declare, that
it is a fundamental law of the church, that no pastor
shall be intruded into any congregation contrary to
the will of the people; and, in order that the prin-
ciple may be carried into full effect, the General
Assembly, with the consent of a majority of the
presbyteries of this church, do declare, enact, and
ordain, that it shall be an instruction to presbyteries
that if, at the moderating in a call to a vacant
pastoral charge, the major part of the male heads of
families, members of the vacant congregation, and
in full communion with the church, shall disapprove
of the person in whose favour the call is proposed to
be moderated in, such disapproval shall be deemed
sufficient ground for the presbytery rejecting such
person, and that he shall Ix; rejected accordingly,
and due notice thereof forthwith given to all con-
cerned; but that if the major part of the said heads
of families shall not disapprove of such person to be
their pastor, the presbytery shall proceed with the
settlement according to the rules of the church:
And further declare, that no person shall be held to
be entitled to disapprove as aforesaid, who shall
refuse, if required, solemnly to declare, in presence
of the presbyter)- that he is actuated by no factious
or malicious motive, but solely by a conscientinr.s
regard to the spiritual interests of himself or tlie
congregation." .Such was the well-known measure
called the Veto, which, being carried by a majority
of forty-six, became part of tiie law of tlie (InnLh (■!
Scotland. Considering the previous domination <■!
patronage, it was regarded with nuieli cn:;!] l.iccncy.
as a valualile boon to public feeling, an 1 a i^rea;
step in advance towards a thorouL;li rel'irniation in
the church. Hut, unfortunately, it wa- only a cm-
promise with an evil that shonld have been uiteiiy
removed; a mere religious lialf-inea-ure, that in the
end was certain to chvindle into a n;;i'l:y ; and Dr.
Chalmers lived long enough to eonic-s its insulh-
ciency and witness its downlall.

In 'the case of tho^e honoured in'lividuals who
have "L^reatncss thrust ui«in them." llie im])o>itii>n
generallv finds them at a season not only when they

342

THOMAS CHALMERS.

are least expectant of such distinctions, but appar-
ently the furthest removed from all chance of obtain-
ing them. Such all along had been the case with
Chalmers. Fame had found him in the obscure
parish of Kilmany, and there proclaimed him one of
the foremost of pulpit orators. It had followed him
into the murky wynds and narrow closes of the
Trongate and Saltmarket of Glasgow; and there,
while he was employed in devising means for the
amelioration of poverty through parocliial agency,
it had lauded him in the senate and among statesmen
as an able financier and political economist. Instead
of seeking, he had been sought, by that high celebrity
which seems to have pursued him only the more
intently by how much he endeavoured to escape it.
And now, after he had i)een so earnestly employed
in endeavouring to restore the old Scottish ecclesi-
astical regime and puritan spirit of the seventeenth
centur}', so loathed by the learned, the fashionable,
and the free-thinking of the nineteenth — new honours,
and these from the most unlikely sources, were
showered upon him in full profusion. In 1834 he
was elected a fellow of the Royal .Society of Edin-
burgh, and in the year following a vice-president.
In the beginning of 1834 he was elected a corres-
ponding member of the Royal Institute of France;
and in the year 1835, while upon a visit to Oxford
for the recovery of his health, impaired by the
fatigues he had undergone in London in the dis-
charge of his public duties, the university of Oxford
in full theatre invested him witli the degree of Doctor
of Laws. The academy of Voltaire and the uni-
versity of Laud combining to do honour to a modern
Scottish Covenanter! — never before had such ex-
tremes met ! This triumpli, however, needed a
slave behind the chariot, and such a remembrancer
was not wanting to the occasion. During his stay
in London he had been negotiating for the establish-
ment of a permanent government salary to the chair
of theology in the university of Edinburgh, for at
his entrance, in 1828, the revenues of its professor-
siiip, in conseciuence of the abolition of pluralities,
amounted to not more than £l<)6 per annum. It
was impossible, upon such a pittance, to maintain
the proper dignity of the office, and rear a numerous
family; and, although the town-council endeavoured
to supplement the defect by the establishment of fees
to be paid by the students, this remedy was found so
scanty and precarious, that Dr. Chalmers could not
calculate upon more than £2^"^ ^ year, while the
necessary expenditure of such an office could not be
comprised within ;i{^8oo. But government at the
time was labouring under one of those periodical
fits of economy iii wliicii it generally looks to the
pennies, in the belief that the pounds can take care
of themselves, and therefore the earnest appeals of
Dr. Chalmers upon the importance of such a pro-
fessorship, and the necessity of endowing it, were
ineffectual. Little salaries were to he cut down, and
small applicants withheld, to convince the scejHical
public that its funds were managed witii strict economy.
To his office of professor, indeed, that of one of the
Scottish royal cha|)laincies harl been added; Ijut this
was little more than an honorary title, as its salaiy
was only £^0 per annum. Thus, at the very height
of his fame, Dr. Chalmers was obliged to bethink
himself of such humble subjects as weekly household
bills, and the ways and means of meeting them, and
with the heavy pressure of duties tiiat had gathered
upon him to take refuge in the resources of author-
shi[). A new and cheap edition of his works, in
quarterly volumes, was therefore commenced in
1836. It was no mere republication of old matter,
however, which he thus presented to the iJublic, and

this he was anxious should be generally understood.
"It so happens," he thus writes to the Rev. Mr.
Cunningham of Harrow, "that the great majority of
my five first volumes will be altogether new; and
that of the two first already published, and which
finishes my views on natural theology, the Bridg-
ivaUr Treatise, is merely a fragment of the whole.
Now, my request is, that you will draw the attention
of any of the London reviewers to the new matter of
my works." To such necessities the most distin-
guished man in Scotland, and the holder of its most
important professorship, was reduced, because our
government would not endow his office with a
modicum of that liberality which it extended to a
sinecure forest-ranger, or even a captain of beef-
eaters.

These however were not the greatest of Dr.
Chalmers' difficulties and cares. The important
subject of church extension, that most clamant of
our country's wants, annihilated all those that were
exclusively personal, and after years of earnest ad-
vocacy a bright prospect began to dawn that this want
would be satisfied. The king's speech in 1S35
recommended the measure; the parliamentary leaders
of the Conservative party were earnest in supporting
it; while the Earl of Aberdeen in the House of Lords,
and Sir Robert Peel in that of the Commons, were
the most urgent advocates for the extension of the
church in Scotland. But very different was the
mood of the Whig ministry, and the premier. Lord
Melbourne, who succeeded; and all that could be
obtained from them was a commission of inquiry.
It was the vague "I'll see to it," which in common
life promises nothing, and usually accomplishes as
little. Thus at least felt Dr. Chalmers, notwith-
standing the assurances of Lord John Russell that
the commissioners should be obliged to report pro-
gress from time to time, so that the house might
apply the remedy to each evil successively as it was
detected. It was no vague fear; for although the
first report of the commissioners was to be returned
in six months, thrice that period elapsed before the
duty was implemented. This report, however, estab-
lished a momentous fact; it was, that nearly one-
third of the whole population of Edinburgh, to which
their eighteen months' inquiry had been exclusively
confined, were living in utter neglect of religious
ordinances. To atone for such delay, as well as to
remedy such an evil, it was time for the parlia-
ment to be up and doing. But parliament thought
it was better to wait — to wait until they got
farther intelligence. This intelligence at last came
in two subsequent reports, by which it ap])eared that
the deficiency of church accommodation and church
attendance was still worse in Glasgow than in Edin-
burgh. And now, at least, was tlie time for action,
after four years of protracted inquiry; but the remedy
which parliament proposed consisted of little more
than a few unmeaning words. The Highlands and
the country parishes were to be aided from sources
that were not available for the purpose, while the
large towns were to be left in their former condition.
In short, the Church of Scotland was to wait, and
wait, and still to wait, while everything was to be
expected, and nothing definite insured. A deputa-
tion from the Church Iixtension Committee was
unavoidable under such circumstances of sickening
procrastination and heartless disappointment; but
the government that had anticipated such an advent,
specified that Dr. Chalmers should not be one of the
deinUies. It was not convenient that the rulers of
the hour should encounter the master-s]iirit of the
age. Accordingly, tiie deputation of the Church of
Scotland, miuits Dr. Chalmers, waited upon Lortl

THOMAS CHALMERS.

343

Melbourne, and represented what a dereliction the
government had committed in abandoning the re-
ligious provision of the large towns of Scotland, by
which the princi|)le of religious establishment itself
was virtually abandoned. But they talked to a
statesman whose only line of policy was to remember
nothing about the past, and fear nothing for tiie
future. IJritain would last during his own day at
least, and posterity might be left to take care of
itself! When he was told, therefore that this
abaudonment of the Scottish cities was an al)andon-
ment of church establishment, and would inflict
a fatal wound upon the Church of Scotland, this
free-and-easy premier replied to the members of
the deputation: "That, gentlemen, is your infer-
ence: you may not be the better for our plan; but,
hang it! you surely cannot be worse;" and with
this elegant sentence they were bowed off from tlie
ministerial audience. It was well, however, that
Dr. Chalmers, and those whom he influenced, had
not entirely leaned, in such a vital question, upon the
reed of court favour and government support. He
had already learned, although with some reluctance,
that most necessary scriptural caveat for a minister
of the Church of Scotland, "Put not your trust in
princes;" so that from the commencement of this
treaty between the church and the state, he had
turned his attention to the public at large as the
source from which his expectations were to be real-
ized. He therefore obtained the sanction of the
General Assembly, in 1836, to form a sub-committee
on cliurch extension, for the purpose of organizing a
jilan of meetings over the whole country for the erec-
tion of new churches. This was applying to the
fountain-head, let the conduits be closed as they
might; and the result more than answered his expec-
tations. In the year 183S he was enabled to state
to the General Assembly, that these two years of
organized labour, combined with the two years of
desultory effort that had preceded — four years in all
— had produced nearly _j^200,ooo, out of which
nearly 200 churches had been erected. Well might
he call this, iu announcing the fact, "an amount
and continuance of pecuniary support altogether
without a precedent in the history of Christian
beneficence in this part of the British empire." To
this he added a hope — but how differently fulfilled
from the way he expected! "At the glorious era of
the church's reformation," he said, "it was the un-
wearied support of the people which, under God,
finally brought her efforts to a triumphant issue. In
this era of her extension — an era as broadly marked
and as emphatically presented to the notice of the
ecclesiastical historian as any which the church is
wont to consider as instances of signal revival and
divine interposition — the support of the ]')eople will
not be wanting, but by their devoted exertions, and
willing sacrifices, and ardent prayers, they will testify
how nuich lliey love the house where their fathers
worship]ied; how much they reverence their Saviour's
command, that the very poorest of their brethren
shall have the go-;peI ]')reached to them."

While the iniliitercnce of government upon the
subjjct of church extension was tlnis felt in .Scotland,
a calamity of a d.tTerent character was equally im-
pending over the cliurches both of Scotland and
l'",ngland — a calamity that threatened nothing less
than to disestablish them, and throw them upon the
voluntary support of the public at large. .Such was
a part of the etTects of the Reform Bill. It brought
forward the Dissenters into ]ilace and power, and
gave them a vantage-ground for tlieir hostility to all
ecclesiastical establisliments; and so well did they
use this opportunity, that tiie sep.iration of cliurch

and state promised to be an event of no distant oc-
currence. Lven Wellington himself, whose practised
eye saw the gathering for the campaign, and whose
stout heart was not apt to l>e alarmed at bugbears, thus
expressed his sentiments on the occasion: "I'eople
talk of the war in Spain, and the Canada question,
but all tliat is of little moment. The real question
is, church or no church; and the majority of the
House of Commons — a small majority, it is true, but
still a majority — are practically against it." This
majority, too, had already commenced its operations
with the Church of Ireland, the number of whose
bishops was reduced, and a large amount of whose
endowments it was proposed to alienate to other
purposes than the support of religion. Thus was
that war begun which has continued from year to
year, growing at each step in violence and pertina-
city, and tiireatening the final eversion of the two
religious establishments of Great Britain. The friends
of the Establishment principle were cfiually alert in
its defence; and among other institutions, a Cliristian
Influence Society was formed, to vindicate the neces-
sity and duty of state support to the national religion
as embodied in the church of the majority of the
people. It occurred to this society that their cause
could be best supported by popular appeal, on the
part of a bold, zealous, eloquent advocate — one
who had already procured the right to speak upon
such a subject, and to whom all might confidentl y
listen. And where could they find such an ad-
vocate? All were at one in the answer, and Dr.
Chalmers was in consequence requested to give a
course of public lectures in London upon the subject
of church establishments, to which he assented.
Thus mysteriously was he led by a way which he
knew not to a termination which he had not anti-
cipated. He was to raise his eloquent voice for the
last time in behalf of a cause which he was soon
after to leave for ever — and to leave only because a
iiigher, holier, and more imperative duty commanded
his departure.

This visit of Dr. Chalmers to London was made
in the spring of 1838. He took with liim a course
of lectures on which he had bestowed the utmost
pains; and the first, which he delivered on the 25th
of April, was attended by the most distinguished in
rank and talent, who admired the lecturer as well as
sympathized in his subject. Tlie other discourses
followed successively, and seldom has great London
been stirred from its mighty depths as ujion these
occasions. Peers, prelates, statesmen, literati, the
powerful, the noble, the rich, the learned, all hurried
pell-mell into the passages, or were crowded in one
living heap in the ample hall; and all eyes were
turned u]5on the homely-looking elderly man who sat
at the head, before a little table, at times looking as
if buried in a dream, and at others, lifting up his eyes
at the rathering and advancing tide, composed of
England s noblest and best, as if he wondered what
this unwonted stir could mean. I low haii such a
man collected such a concourse? Tliat was soun
shown, when, after having uttered a few sentences,
with a pronunciation whicli even liis own countrymen
deemed uncouth, he warmed w itli liis suliject. until
his thouglits seemed to be clotlied w:t!i tlr.nuier: .-.n i
starting to his feet, the wh..le a-euihly r' .-e witli
him as one man, ]iasse<i iriio nil ii> leeLn^.'^, and
moved Willi his every inipuKe. a- it l^r ;l.e time they
had implicitly rcsiu;ned tlieir iientity into Ir.s h.inUs.
and were content to i>e bv.t ]^art~ of ili.u woiidrous
individual in whose ut'erance they were so abs-iriied
and swallowed up. "Tlie conclu ;i;i^' lecture." snys
one writer, "was graced by the ^re^vnce ot ii;r,e i>re-
lates of tlie Churcli uf Lr.-'.aad. Tiie t:de tli.it hoil

344

THOMAS CHALMERS.

been rising and swelling each succeeding day, now
burst all bounds. Carried away by the impassioned
utterance of the speaker, long ere the close of some
of his finest passages was reached, the voice of the
lecturer was drowned in the applause, the audience
rising from their seats, waving their hats above their
heads, and breaking out into tumultuous approba-
tion." "Nothing was more striking, however," writes
another, "amidst all this e.xcitement, than the child-
like humility of the great man himself. All the
flattery seemed to produce no effect whatever on
him; his mind was entirely absorbed in his great
object; and the same kind, playful, and truly Christian
spirit, that so endeared him to us all, was every-
where apparent in his conduct. ... I had
heard Ur. Chalmers on many great occasions, but
probably his London lectures afforded the most re-
markable illustrations of his extraordinary power,
and must be ranked amongst the most signal triumphs
of oratory in any age."

Having thus delivered such a solemn and public
testimony in behalf of church establishments. Dr.
Chalmers now resolved to visit France, a duty which
he conceived he owed to the country, as he had
been elected a member of its far-famed Royal Li-
stitute. He accordingly went from England to Paris
in the earlier part of June, 1838, accompanied by his
wife and two daughters. From the journal which
he kept on the occasion, much interesting information
may be gleaned of his views on the state of France
and French society, while tliroughout it is evident
that he carried with him what our English tourists
too seldom transport into that country— the willing-
ness to recognize and readiness to acknowledge what-
ever superiority it possesses over our own. He thus
found that Paris was something better than a city of
profligates, and France than a land of infidels. In
that gay metropolis his exclamation is, "How much
more still and leisurely everything moves here than in
London I . . . It is more a city of loungers; and
life moves on at a more rational pace." On another
occasion he declared Paris "better than London, in
not being a place of extreme and high-pressure work
in all the departments of industry. More favourable
to intellect, to man in his loftier capacities, to all
the better and higher purposes of our nature." It was
not wonderful, therefore, that with such frankness
and warmth of heart he was soon at one with the
choicest of that literary and intellectual society with
which the city at all times abounds, and delighted
with its buildings, its public walks, and nuiseums of
science and art. Dr. Chalmers made no pretension
to taste in the fine arts, and its critical phraseology he
detested as cant and jargon; but it was well known by
his friends that he had a love of fine statues and
pictures, and an innate natural perception of their
beauties, that miglit well have put those wlio prate
learnedly al3{jut l<affaole and Titian to the blush.
This will at once be ai)])arent in his notices of the
Louvre, where his remarks are full of life and truthfiil-
ness : "Struck with the picture of one of ISonaparte's
battles in his retreat from Moskow. The expression
of Napoleon very striking — as if solemnized by the
greatness of the coming disaster, yet with an air of full
intelligence, and serenity, and majesty, antl a deep
mournful expression withal. The long gallery of tiie
Louvre superb; impressed at once with the superiority
of its pictures. Very much interested in the Flemish
pictures, of v.hich there were some very admirable
ones by David Teniers. I am fond of Rembrandt's
portraits; and was much pleased in recognizing the
characteristics of Rubens, Poussin, and CJaufle
Lorrain. I also remarked that in most of the Italian
schools, with the exception of the \'enetian, tlicrc

was a total want of shading off; yet the separate
figures, though not harmonized with the back-
ground, very striking in themselves. The statuary
of painting perhaps expresses the style of the Roman
and other such schools. There is a quadrangle
recently attached to the east end of the gallery, filled
with the models of towns, ships, and machinery;
the towns very instinctive. But the most interesting
part of this department is the Spanish pictures, in
all of which the strong emotions are most powerfully
expressed. There is quite a stamp of national pecu-
liarity in these works. The walls which contain
them seem all alive with the passions and thoughts
of living men." Thus far Dr. Chalmers in a new
character, as a critic in painting — not of the schools,
however, but of nature's own teaching. After a
short residence of three weeks in Paris, during
which he noticed everything with a benevolent and
observant eye, and read before the Institute a lecture
of initiation, having for its title, the "Distinction,
both in Principle and Effect, between a Legal
Charity for the Relief of Indigence, and a Legal
Charity for the R'dief of Disease," Dr. Chalmers set
off on a short tour through some of the inland pro-
vinces, which he was induced to make by the per-
suasion of his English friends. On finishing it, he
characterized it as a most interesting journey, in
which his hopes for the futurity of France had been
materially improved. He then returned to Edin-
burgh, where sterner events awaited his arrival.

The first task of Dr. Chalmers, on returning home,
was the augmentation of the church extension fund.
No hope was now to be derived from government
grants, and therefore, while old age was stealing
upon him, and the weariness of a life of toil demand-
ing cessation and repose, he felt as if the struggle
had commenced anew, and must be encountered
over again. The extension scheme was his favourite
enterprise, in which all his energies for years had
been embarked; and could he leave it nov/ in its
hour of need, more especially after such a hopeful
commencement ? He therefore began an arduous
tour for the purpose on the 18th of August, 1839.
He commenced with the south-western districts of
Scotland, in the course of which he visited and ad-
dressed ten presbyteries successively. And, be it
observed, too, that this prince of orators had a diffi-
culty in his task to encounter which only an orator
can fully appreciate. Hitherto his atldrcsscs to
public meetings had been carefully studied and com-
posed, so that to extemporaneous haranguing on
such occasions he had been an utter stranger. Put
nov/ that he must move rapidly from place to place,
and adapt himself to every kind of meeting, and be
ready for every sudden emergency of opposition or
cavil, he felt tiiat the aids of the study must be
abandoned — that he must be ready on every point,
and at every moment — that, in short, all his former
habits of oratory must be abandoned, and a new
power acquired, and that too, at the age of sixty,
when old haliits are confirmed, and the mind has
lost its flexibility, liut even this difficulty he met
and surmounted; his ardour in the work beat down
every obstacle, and bore him irresistibly onward.
"It is true," he said, "that it were better if we lived
in times when a calm and sustained argumentation
from the jiress would have carried the influential
minds of the community; but, as it is, one must
accommodate his d(;ings to the circumstances of the
age." After the south-western districts had been
visited, he made another tour, in which he visitetl
Dundee, Perth, .Stirling, and Dunferndine; and a
third, that comi)rised the towns of Ikechin, Mon-
trose, Arbroath, and Aberdeen. A fourth, which

THOMAS CHALMERS.

345

he called his great northern tour, led him through
a considerable part of the Highlands, where he
a<ldressed many meetings, and endeavoured every-
where to stir up the people to a due sense of the im-
portance of religious ordinances. But it is melan-
choly to find that labours so great ended, upon the
whole, in disappointment. At the commencement
Dr. Clialmers had confidently expected to raise
;^ioo,ooo for the erection of a hundred new churches,
and in this expectation he was fully justified by the
success of his previous efforts. But ,^^40,000 was
the utmost that was realized by all this extraordi-
nary toil and travel. Still, however, much had been
done during his seven years of labour in tlie cause of
church extension; for in 1841, when he demitted his
office as convener of the committee, 220 churches,
at a cost of more than ;,f300,ooo, had been added to
the Establishment. He had tlius made an extensive
trial of voluntarj'ism, and obtained full experience
of its capabilities and defects, of which the following
was his recorded opinion: — "While he rejoices in
the experimental confirmation which the history of
these few years has afforded him of the resources
and the capabilities of the voluntary system, to
which, as hitherto unfostered by the paternal care of
government, the scheme of church extension is in-
debted for all its progress, it still remains his un-
shaken conviction of that system notwithstanding,
tliat it should only be resorted to as a supplement,
and never but in times when the powers of infidelity
and intolerance are linked together in hostile com-
bination against the sacred jsrerogatives of the church,
should it once be thought of as a substitute for a
national establishment of Christianity. In days of
darkness and disquietude it may open a temporary re-
source, whether for a virtuous secession or an ejected
cliurch to fall back upon; but a far more glorious
consummation is, when tlie state puts forth its hand to
sustain but not to subjugate the church, and the two,
bent on moral conquests alone, walk together as
fellow-helpers towards the achievement of that great
pacific triumph — the Christian education of the
people."

The indifferent success with wliicli the latter part
of the labours of Dr. Chalmers in behalf of church
extension was followed, could be but too easily ex-
plained. The Church of Scotland had now entered
the depths of her trial, and while the issue was un-
certain, the public mind was in that state of suspense
under which time seems to stand still, and all action
is at a pause. The urgent demand that was pressed
ui)on society was for money to erect more places of
worship; but what the while did the state mean to
do in this important matter? Would it take the
whole responsibility u])on itself, or merely supple-
ment the ld)erality of the peojile? And if the latter,
then to what amount would it give aid, and upon what
terms? When a cautious benevolence is thus posed,
it too often ruminates, until the hour of action has
knelled its departure. Such was the condition to
which Scotland was now reduced. In tracing its
causes, we must revert to the last five years of our
narrative, and those important ecclesiastical move-
ments witli which Dr. Chalmers was so closely im-
plicated.

In obtaining the veto law, Dr. Chalmers was far
from regartling it either as a satisfactory or a final
measure. In■^tead of being an ecclesiastical reform,
it was but a half-way concession, in which church
and state would be liable to much unpleasant col-
lision. This result must sooner or later l)e the case,
and in such a shock the weaker would be driven to
the wall. This Dr. Chalmers ftiresaw, and it re-
quired no extraordinary sagacity to foretell which of

these causes would prove the weaker. And yet the
veto, like most great changes, however defective,
worked well at the commencement. So remarkaljly
had the evangelistic spirit been revived by it, that
in 1839 the revenue collected for Christian enterprise
was fourteeen times greater than it had V>een five
years previous. Another significant fact of its use-
fulness was, that, notwithstanding the new power it
conferred upon the people, tiiat power had l>ecn
enjoyed with such moderation, that during these five
years it had been exercised only in ten cases out of
one hundred and fifty clerical settlements. All thi.s,
however, was of no avail to save it from niin, and
even the beginning of its short-lived existence gave
promise how soon and how fatally it would termi-
nate.

The first act of hostility to the veto law occurred
only a few months after it had passed. The parish
church of Auchterarder had become vacant, and the
I-]arl of Kinnoul, who was patron, made a presenta-
tion of the living in favour of Mr. K'jljcrt Young, a
licentiate. But the assent of the peo]jle was also
necessarv', and after Mr. Young had preached two
successive Sabbaths in the pulpit of Auchterarder,
that the parishioners might test his cjualifications,
a day was appointed for their coming forward to
moderate in the call, by signing their acceptance.
Not more, however, than two heads of families, and
his lordship's factor, a non-resident, out of a par.sh
of 3CKX) souls, gave their subscription. As this was
no call at all, it was necessary to obtain a positive
dissent, and on the opportunity being given for the
heads of families, being communicants, to sign their
rejection, 2S7, out of 300 members, subscribed ti.eir
refusal to have the presentee for their minister.
Thus Mr. Young was clearly and most expressly
vetoed, and his presentation should, according to
the law, have been instantly cancelled; Init, instead
of submitting, he appealed against the refusal of the
parish, in tlie first instance to the presbytery, and
afterwards to the .synod; and on his appeal being
rejected successively by both courts, he finally carried
it, not to the General Assembly, for ultimate adjudi-
cation, as he was bound to do, but to the Court of
Session, where it was to be reduced to a civil ques-
tion, and nothing more. In this way admission to
the holy office of the ministry and the cure of souls
was to be as secular a question as the granting of a
publican's license, or the establishment cf a highway
toll, and to be settled by the same tribunal 1 After
much fluctuation and delay that occurred during the
trial of this singidar case, a final decision was pro-
nounced by the Court of Session in Fel)ruary, iSjS.
by which the presbytery of Auchterarder v.ns de-
clared to have acted illegally, and in vio'ali^.ii ((
their duty, in rejecting Mr. Young solely on acci unt
of the dissent of the parish, without any rcasoi:s
assigned for it. Fnit what should the prcsliytcry do
or suffer in consequence? This was not doclarc'i;
for the court, having advanced so f-.r as to tn;d the
veto law illegal, did not dare to i-sue a pi -.t^Nc
command to the church to throw it a-i-Je. ar. 1 .-.ir.v.t
the presentee to the ministerial oti;c'j. 1 he utini--:
they could do was to adjudge th.e tc:r.]-'>r.T!;t;cs ,{
the' benefice to Mr. Young, wiulc the cl.urJi nii-ht
appoint to its spiritual duties \\)',au\i.r ] tl-icIk!- ur.s
found fittest for the puq ose. Sni!. l.-wcvcr. if not
unchurched, siie was disLstr.l iisi:, 1 !>'•■ sv.e:; a de-
cision; and, fir the ].ur;ose "i av<_:-,:r.g tiiis di--
astrous termination, tlie case was .ti it-iit i ;r^ ni tlu-
Court of Session to the llou-e of l.^Tds. Hut there
the sentence of the Scottish tribunal. ii;steai; of being
repealed, was coid'irmed and established into law.
'I'hus patrottagc w.vs rej'Iaced mall its authority, and

346

THOMAS CHALMERS.

the veto made a dead letter. This judgment, so
important to the future history of the Church of
Scotland, was delivered by the House of Lords on
May 3, 1839. On the 1 6th the General Assembly
met, and Dr. Chalmers, who had hitherto seldom
taken a part in the proceedings of church courts,
now made anxious preparation for the important
crisis. The veto, he saw, existed no longer; but
was the choice of the people to perish also? The
important discussion commenced by Dr. Cook pre-
senting a motion, to the effect that the Assembly
should hold the veto law as abrogated, and proceed
as if it never had passed. To this Dr. Chalmers
presented a counter-motion, consisting of three parts.
The first acknowledged the right of the civil autho-
rity over the temporalities of the living of Auchter-
arder, and acquiesced in their loss ; the second
expressed the resolution not to abandon the prin-
ciple of non-intrusion; and the third proposed the
formation of a committee to confer with government,
for the prevention of any further collision between
the ecclesiastical and civil authorities. A heart-
stirring speech of three hours followed, in which he
advocated each point of his motion with such irre-
sistible eloquence, that it was carried by a majority
of forty-nine. In this speech the following com-
parison between the two national churches was not
only fitted to send a patriotic thrill through every
Scottish heart, but to enlighten those English under-
standings that could not comprehend the causes of
a national commotion, in which they, nevertheless,
found themselves somehow most deeply implicated : —
" Let me now, instead of looking forward into
consequences, give some idea to the Assembly of the
extent of that degradation and helplessness which, if
we do submit to this decision of the House of Lords,
have been actually and already inflicted upon us — a
degradation to which the Church of England, pro-
fessing the king to be their head, never would sub-
mit; and to which the Church of Scotland, professing
the Lord Jesus Christ to be their head, never can.
You know that, by the practice of our church, the
induction and the ordination go together. We regard
both as spiritual acts ; but, by the practice of the
Church of England, the two are separated in point
of time from each other; and as they look only upon
the ordination as spiritual, tliis lays them open to
such civil mandates and civil interdicts as we have
never been accustomed to receive in the questions
which arise on the subject of induction into parishes.
But ask any English ecclesiastic whether the bishop
would receive an order, from any civil court what-
ever, on the matter of ordination; and the instant,
the universal reply is, that he would not. In other
words, we should be degraded far beneath the level
of the sister church if we remain in connection with
the state, and submit to this new ordinance, or, if
you will, to this new interpretation of their old
ordinances." After quoting a case in point, in
which a presentee in the Church of England had
appealed, but in vain, to the royal authority against
the prelate who refused to ordain him, Dr. Chalmers
continued: — "To what position, then, are we
brought if we give in to the opposite motion, and
]iroceed in consequence to the ordination of Mr.
Young? To such a position as the bishops of Eng-
land, with all the ICrastianism which has been
charged, and to a great degree, 1 think, falsely
charged, upon that establishment, never, never
would consent to occupy. Many of them would go
to the prison and the death rather than submit to
such an invasion on the functions of the sacred office.
We read of an old imprisonment of bishops, which
led to the greatest and most glorious political eman-

cipation that ever took place in the history of Eng-
land. Let us not be mistaken. Should the emanci-
pation of our church require it, there is the same
strength of high and holy determination in this our
land. There are materials here, too, for upholding
the contest between principle and power, and enough
of the blood and spirit of the olden time for sustain-
ing that holy warfare, where, as in former days, the
inflictions of the one party were met with a patience
and determination invincible in the sufferings of the
other."

In consequence of the recommendation embodied
in his motion, a committee was appointed for con-
ferring with government, of which Dr. Chalmers was
convener. It was now resolved that they should re-
pair to London upon their important mission, and
thither he accompanied them in the beginning of
July. After much negotiation with the leaders of
the different parties, the members of committee re-
turned to Edinburgh; and in the report which Dr.
Chalmers gave of their proceedings he expressed his
opinion that matters looked more hopeful than ever.
Important concessions were to be made to the church
on the part of government, and a measure was to be
devised and drawn up to that effect. "With such
helps and encouragement on our side," the report
concluded, "let but the adherents of this cause re-
main firm and united in principle among themselves,
and with the favour of an approving God, any further
contest will be given up as unavailing, when, let us
fondly hope, all the feelings of party, whether of
triumph on one side because of victory, or of humili-
ation on the other side because of defeat, shall be
merged and forgotten in the desires of a common pa-
triotism, to the reassurance of all who are the friends
of our establishment, to the utter confusion of those •
enemies who watch for our halting, and would rejoice
in our overthrow."

It was indeed full time that such a hope should
dawn upon those who loved the real interests of our
church. For the case of Auchterarder did not stand
alone ; on the contrary, it was only the first signal of
a systematic warfare which patronage was about to
wage against the rights of the people; and the ex-
ample of appeal to the civil authority was but too
readily followed in those cases that succeeded. And
first came that of Lethendy, and afterwards of Mar-
noch, in which the civil authority was invoked by
vetoed presentees; while in the last of these conflicts
the presbytery of Strathbogie, to which Marnoch
belonged, complicated the difficulties of the question
by adopting the cause of the rejected licentiate, and
setting the authority of the church at defiance. The
rebellious ministers were suspended from office; and
they, in turn, relying upon the protection of the civil
power, served an interdict upon those clergymen
who, at the appointment of the General Assembly,
should attempt to officiate in their pulpits, or even
in their parishes. The Court of Session complied so
far as to exclude the Assembly's ministers from
preaching in the churches, churchyards, and school-
rooms of the suspended, so that they were obliged to
preach in barns or in the open air; but at last, when
even this liberty was complained of by the silenced
recusants, the civil court agreed to the whole amount
of their petition. It was such a sentence, issuing
from mere jurisconsults and Edinburgh lawyers, as
was sometimes hazarded in the most tyrranical sea-
sons of the dark ages, when a ghostly conclave of
jiope, cardinals, and prince-prelates laid a whole dis-
trict under the ban of an interdict for the offence of
its ruler, and deprived its people of the rites of tlu;
church until complete atonement had been paid. Such
was the state of matters when the Assembly's coin-

THOMAS CHALMERS.

347

mission met on the 4th of March, and resolved to re-
sist this monstrous usurpation. On this occasion
Dr. Chalmers spoke with his wonted energy; and
after representing the enormity of the offence, and
the necessity of resisting it, he thus concluded —
"Be it known, then, unto all men, that we shall not
retract one snigle footstep — we shall make no sub-
mission to the Court of Session — and that not because
of the disgrace, but because of the gross and grievous
dereliction of principle that we should thereby incur.
They may force the ejection of us from our places:
they shall never, never force us to the surrender of
our principles; and if that honourable court shall
again so far mistake their functions as to repeat or
renew the inroads they have already made, we trust
they will ever meet with the same reception they
have already gotten — to whom we shall give place
by subjection, no, not for an hour; no, not by an
hair-breadth."

The only earthly hope of the Church of Scotland
was now invested in the parliament. The former
had distinctly announced the terms on which it would
maintain its connection with the state, wliile the lead-
ing men of the latter had held out such expectations
of redress as filled the hearts of Dr. Chalmers and
his friends with confidence. It was now full time to
make the trial. A deputation was accordingly sent
to London; but, after mountains of promises and
months of delay, by which expectation was alternately
elevatetl and crushed, nothing better was produced
than Lord Aberdeen's bill. By this a reclaiming
parish were not only to state their objections, but the
grounds and reasons on wliich they were founded;
while the presbytery, in taking cognizance of these
objections, were to admit them only when personal
to fhe presentee, establislied on sufficient grounds,
and adequate for his rejection. Thus, a country
[larish — a rustic congregation — were to analyze their
religious impressions, embody tliem in distinct form,
and table them before a learned and formidable tri-
bunal, in rejecting the minister imposed upon them;
while, in weigiiing tiiese nice objections, and ascer-
taining their specific gravity, every country minister
was to be a Duns Scotus or Thomas Aquinas, if not
a very Daniel come to judgment. We suspect that
the meml)crs of the learned House of Lords, and even
of the Commons to boot, would have been sorely
puzzled had such a case been their own, wlicther in
the character of judges or appellants. It was in vain
that Dr. Chalmers remonstrated by letter with the
originator of this strange measure; the bill, the whole
bill, and nothing but the bill, was now the ultimatum;
and, as might be expected, it was rejected in the
Ceneral Assembly by a majority of nearly two to one.
Tiie unfortunate bill was in consequence withdrawn,
while its disappointed author characterized Dr.
Chalmers, in the House of Lords, as "a reverend
gentleman, a great leader in the Assembly, who,
having brought the church into a state of jeopardy
and peril, had left it to find its way out of the diffi'-
cuUy as well as it could." This was not the only
instance in which the doctor and his coadjutor's
were thus calumniated from the same qu.artcr, so that
he was obliged to publish a pamphlet on the princi-
ples of the church question, and a reply to the charges
with wliich its advocates had been vilified. "It is
as a blow struck," he wrote, "at the corner-stone,
wlien the moral integrity of clergymen is assailed;
and when, not in any secret or obscure whispering-
jilaco, but on the very house-tops of the nation, we
behold, and without a single exi^ression of remon-
strance or regret fnim tlie assemliled peerage of the
empire, one no!)Ieman sending forth his wrathful ful-
mination against the lioncstv and truth of mini->tcrs

of religion, and another laughing it off in his own
characteristic way with a good-natured jeer as a thing
of nought— we cannot but lament the accident by
which a question of so grave a nature, and of such
portentous consecjuences to society, as tlie character
of its most sacred functionaries, should have come
even f<jr a moment under the treatment of such
hands."

Events had now ripened for decisive action. The
church could not and the state would not yield; and
those deeds successively and rapidly occurred that
terminated in the disruption. As these, however,
were so open, and are so well known, a brief re-
capitulation of the leading ones is all that is neces-
sary. The seven suspended ministers of Strathbogic,
regardless of the sentence of the Assembly, by which
they were rendered incapable of officiating in their
ministerial character, resolved to ordain and admit
Mr. Edwards, the rejected presentee, to the pastoral
charge of Marnoch, at the command and by the
authority of the Court of Session alone, which had
by its sentence commissioned them to that effect.
This portentous deed was done on the 21st of Janu-
ary, 184I, and Scotland looked on with as much
astonishment as if the Stuarts had risen from the
dead. "May Heaven at length open the eyes of
those infatuated men," exclaimed Dr. Chalmers,
"who are now doing so much to hasten on a crisis
which they will be the first to deplore I" For an
act of daring rebellion, so unparalleled in the history
of the church, it was necessary that its perpetrators
should be deposed; and for this Dr. Chalmers boldly
moved at the next meeting of Assembly. The ([ues-
tion was no longer whetlier these men were animated
by pure and conscientious though mistaken motives,
to act as they had done: of this fact Dr. Chalmers
declared that he knew nothing. "But I do know,"
he added, "that when forbidden by their ecclesi-
astical superiors to proceed any further with Mr.
Edwards, they took him upon trials; and when sr,>-
pended from the functions of the sacred ministr\- by
a commission of the General Assembly, they con-
tinued to preach and to dispense the sacraments;
that they called in the aid of the civil power to back
them in the exclusion from their respective parishes
of clergymen appointed by the only competent court
to fulfil the office which they were no longer com-
petent to discliarge; and lastly, as if to crown and
consummate this whole disobedience — as if to place
the topstone on tlie Babel of their proud and rebel-
lious defiance — I know that, to the scandal and
astonishment of all Scotland, and with a daring
which I believe themselves would have shnink from
at the outset of their headlong career, they put forth
their unlicensed hands on the dread work of ordina-
tion; and as if in solemn mockery of the church's
most venerable forms, asked of the unhappy man
who knelt before them, if he promised 'to >ubni;i
himself humbly and willingly, in the sj^rit of incik-
ness, unto the' admonitions of the brethren of tho
presbyter.-, and to be subject to them ami all o;l-.i 1
presbyteries and superior judicatories of thi- ehurJ;;
and got back from him an afiirniativc resp. .nsc. ali.nL;
with the declaration that 'zeal f.'r the honour oi
(]od, love to Jesus Christ, ?.vA dc-iiv of saving sou!-.
were his great motives and chiel iiiducvnunts to
enter into" the functions i.A the i!';iy Tr.iiiis-.n,-, ar.d
not worldlv designs and ir.tci\~t-. 1 lie prcijHisal

for their deposition was carried l^y a ni.\;. .r;;y n
97 out of 347 members, notwitli-taiuiir.g iI.l- o] -
position of the Moiicrate ]iarty, and the scnten..e
was pronounced accoriiii^'Iy. I'.ut only ti'.e day
after the .Assembly was a-ioun>!c 1 by l>cii',g served
with an interdict, chai-'in- t!-.cin tuile--^i-t t'r- -in carry-

348

THOMAS CHALMERS.

ing their sentence into effect ! After this deed of
hardihood, the deposed ministers retired to their
parishes, and continued tlieir pubhc duties in de-
fiance of the Assembly's award, while they were
encouraged in their contumacy by several of their
Moderate brethren, who assisted them in the celebra-
tion of the Lord's supper. A resolution was passed
that these abettors of the deposed ministers should
be censured; but Dr. Cook and his jiarty opposed
the measure, on the plea that it would perpetuate
the divisions now prevalent in the church. It was
thus made a question, not of the church against the
state for the aggressions of the latter against the
former, but merely of the Evangelical party against
the Moderates; and upon this footing the Moderates
were resolved to place it before the legislature, and
ascertain to which of the parties the countenance
and support of the state was to be given. In this
form the result would be certain, for the state would
love its own. A disruption was inevitable, and it
was equally certain that the evangelical portion of
tlie church would not be recognized by the state as
the Established Church of Scotland. This was so
distinctly foreseen, that meetings had already been
held to deliberate in what manner the church was to
be supported after it should be disestablished. Upon
this difficult question Dr. Chalmers had already be-
stowed profound attention, and been rewarded with
the most animating hopes; so that in a letter to Sir
Oeorge Sinclair he thus writes: — "I have been study-
ing a good deal the economy of our non-Krastian
church when severed from the state and its endow-
ments— an event which I would do much to avert,
but which, if inevitable, we ought to be prepared
for. I do not participate in your fears of an extinc-
tion even for our most remote parishes. And the
noble resolution of the town ministers, to share
equally with their country brethren, from a common
fund raised for the general behoof of the ejected
ministers, has greatly brightened my anticipations
of a great and glorious result, should the government
cast us off."'

This casting-off became every day more certain.
The Court of Session was now the umpire in every
case of ecclesiastical rule; so that vetoed preachers
and suspended ministers could carry their case before
t!ie civil tribunal, with the almost certain hope that
the sentence of the church court would be reversed.
Thus it was in the case of Culsalmond, in the pres-
bytery of Garioch. A preacher was presented whom
the parishioners refused to receive as their minister;
])ut the presbytery, animated l>y the exam])Ie of their
Ijrcthren of Strathl)ogie, forthwith ordained him
without waiting, as they were bound, for the ad-
judication of tlie (ieneral Assembly; and when its
meeting of commission inter[)osed, and arrested these
proceedings, it was served l)y the civil court with a
suspension and interdict. Another case was, if jios-
sible, still more flagrant. The minister of a parish
had been convicteil of four separate acts of theft.
The cases were of such a contenq)tibIe kind of jjctty
larceny, compared with the position of the culjirit
and the consecpienccs they involved, that it may be
charitably ho]ied they arose from that niag])ie mono-
mania from which even lords and high-titicd ladies
are not always exempt, under which they will some-
times secrete a few inches of paltry lace, or ]iocket a
silver spoon. Ihit though the cause of such perver-
sity might be suited for a consultation of dcjctors and
a course of hellebore, the deeds themselves showed
the unfitness of the actor to be a minister. Yet he
too applied for and obtained an interdict against the
sentence of deposition; so that he was enabled to
purloin eggs, handkerchiefs, and pieces of earthen-

ware for a few years longer. A third minister was
accused of fraudulent dealings, and was about to be
tried by his presbytery; but here, also, the civil court
was successfully invoked to the rescue, and an inter-
diet was obtained to stop the trial. A fourth case
was that of a presentee who, in consequence of re-
peated acts of drunkenness, was about to be deprived
of his license; Ijut this offender was likewise saved
by an interdict. And still the state looked on, and
would do nothing! The only alternative was for
that party to act by whom such proceedings could
be conscientiously endured no longer. They must
disestablish themselves by their own voluntary deed,
whether they constituted the majority of the church
or otherwise. But how many of their number were
prepared to make the sacrifice? and in what manner
was it to be made? This could only be ascertained
by a convocation of the ministers from every part of
Scotland; and the meeting accordingly was ajipointed
to be held in Edinburgh on the 17th of November,
1842. It was an awful crisis, and as such Dr.
Chalmers felt it; so that, having done all that man
could do in the way of preparation, he threw himself
wholly upon divine strength and counsel. His
solemn petitions on this occasion were: "Do thou
guide, O Lord, the deliberations and measures of
that convocation of ministers now on the eve of
assembling; and save me, in particular, from all that
is rash and unwarrantable when engaged with the
counsels or propositions that come before it. Let
me not, O God, be an instniment in any way of
disappointing or misleading my brethren. Let me
not, in this crisis of our church's history, urge a
sacrifice upon others which I would not most cheer-
fully share with them." The convocation assembled,
and 450 ministers were present on the occasion.
The deliberations, which extended over several days,
were conducted with a harmony and unanimity seldom
to be found in church courts; one common principle,
and that too of the highest and most sacred import,
seemed to animate every member; while in each
movement a voice was heard to which they were all
ready to listen. The prayer of Dr. Chalmers was
indeed answered! It was resolved that no measure
could be submitted to, unless it exempted them in
all time to come from such a supremacy as the civil
courts had lately exercised. Should this not be
obtained and guaranteed, the next resolution was,
that they should withdraw from a church in which
they could no longer conscientiously remain and act
under such secular restrictions. It was ]irobable,
then, that they must withdraw, but what was to
follow? Even to the wisest of their number it
seemed inevitable that they must assume the char-
acter of mere individual missionaries, each laiiouring
by himself in whatever sjihere of usefulness he could
find, and trusting to the precarious good-will of
Christian society for his support. They could be
an organized and united church no longer; for had
not such a conscciucnce followed the IJartholomew
Act in England, and the Black Act in Scotland, of
whose victims they were about to become the willing
followers and successors? It ^\■as at this trying
moment that Dr. Chalmers stepped forwartl with an
announcement that electrified the whole assembly.
He had long contenqilated, in common with his
brethren, the probability of an exodus such as was
now resolved. But that which formed their tilti-
matiini was only his starting-point. In that very
ejeclment there was the beginning of a new eccle-
siastical history of Scotland; and out of these frag-
ments a church was to be constituted with a more
complete and perfect organization than before.
Such had been his hopes; and for their realization

THOMAS CHALMERS.

349

lie had been employed during twelve months in draw-
ing out a plan by which this disestablished church
was to be supported as systematically and effectually
by a willing public, as it had been in its highest
ascendency, when the state was its nursing-mother.
Here, then, was the remote mysterious end of all
those laborious studies of former years in legislation,
political economy, and finance, at which the wisest
of his brethren had marvelled, and with which the
more rigid had been offended! He now unfolded
the schedule of his carefully-constructed and admir-
able scheme; and the hearers were astonished to find
that general assemblies, synods, and presbyteries —
that their institutions of missionary and benevolent
enteqjrise, with settled homes and a fitting provision
for all in their ministerial capacity — were still at hand,
and ready for their occupation, as before. In this
way the dreaded disruption was to be nothing more
than a momentary shock. And now the ministers
might return to their manses, and gladden with these
tidings their anxious families who were preparing for
a mournful departure. Even yet, however, they
trembled — it was a plan so new, so vast, so utterly
beyond their sphere! But they were still unshaken
in their resolution, which they subscribed with un-
faltering hands; and when Dr. Chalmers heard that
more than 300 names had been signed, he exclaimed,
"Then we are more than Gideon's army — a most
hopeful omen !" Their proposals were duly trans-
mitted to Sir Robert Peel, now at the head of govern-
ment, and the members, after six days of solemn
conference, retired to their homes.

The terms of the church, and the reasons on which
these were founded, had thus been stated to govern-
ment in the most unequivocal sentences, words, and
syllables, so that there could be no perversion of
their construction, or mistake of their meaning. The
answer of the state was equally express, as embodied
in the words of Sir Robert Peel. And thus he
uttered it in his place in the House of Commons: —
"If a church chooses to participate in the advan-
tages appertaining to an establishment, that church —
whether it be the Church of England, the Church of
Rome, or the Church of Scotland — that cliurch must
conform itself to the law. It would be an anomaly,
it would be an absurdity, that a church sliould possess
the privilege and enjoy the advantages of connec-
tion with the state, and, nevertheless, claim exemp-
tion from the ol)ligations which, wherever there is
an authority, must of necessity exist; and this house
and the country never could lay it down, that if a
dispute should arise in respect of the statute law of
the land, such dispute should be referretl to a tribunal
not subject to an appeal to the House of Lords."
These were the conditions, and therefore the Church
of Scotland must succumb. Such treatment of land
tenures and offices, as that with which the Articles
of Union insuring the independence of the Scottish
Kirk were thus treated, would have sufficed to dis-
possess no small portion of the English nobility, and
dry up hundreds of title-deeds into blank parchment.
But on this occasion the dint of the argument fell not
upon knigtits and nobles, whom it would liave been
dangerous to disturb, but upon Scottish presbyters,
of whom sufferance had been the distinctive badge
since the day that James VI. entered England. The
aggressors and the aggrieved were equally aware that
the days of Drumclog and 15othweIl Bridge had
passed away with the bufT-coats and partisans of the
seventeenth century, and therefore, while the one
party assailed, the other were prepared to defend
themselves according to peaceful niudem usage.
The war of argument and remonftrance had ended,
and the overpowered but not vanquished church

must rally and entrench itself according to the plan
laid down at thel^eginning of the campaign. It was
now, therefore, that Dr. Chalmers was doubly busy.
When he announced his financial plan at tne con-
vocation, by which the retiring church was to be
supported in all its former integrity, his brethren had
demurred about the possibility of its accomidi^hment,
and now held back from the altemjjt. That plan
was the organization of local associations, by which
not only every district, but every family, should be
accessible, so that his vision, as they were ready to
deem it, of _;i{^ico,oco per annum for the support of
the ministiy ahme, might be accumulated in shillings
and pence. It was the trunk of the elephant hand-
ling every leaf, twig, and branch of the tree which
it was commissioned to uproot. Finding himself, in
the first instance, unable to convince by argument,
he had recourse to example, and for this jiuqxjse he
immediately instituted an association of his own in
the parish of Morningside, the place of his residence.
His example was followed by others; and at last a
provisional committee was formed, having for its
object the whole plan which he had originally pro-
posed. It consisted of three sections — the financial,
the architectural, and the statistical — of which the
first was properly intrusted to himself; and the result
of this threefold action by infinitesimal aj<plication
([uickly justified his theory. Local associations over
the whole extent of Scotland were formed by the
hundred, and contributions of money accumulated
by the thousand, so that, let the disruption occur as
it might, the most despondent hearts were cheered
and prepared for the emergency.

The important period at length arrived that was
to set the seal upon all this preparation and promise.
The inters-al which had elajised was that awful pause
of hope and fear, with which friend and enemy await
a deed of such moment, that they cannot believe in
its reality until it is accomplished. Would then a
disruption occur in very truth, and the Church of
Scotland be rent asunder? Or would government
interpose at the last hour and moment to avert so fatal
a necessity? Or might it not be, that when it came
to the trial, the hearts of the men who had spoken so
bravely would fail them, so that they would be ready
to embrace any terms of accommodation, or even
surrender at discretion? But the days of martyrdom
— the chivalry of the church — it was asserted had
gone for ever; and therefore there were thousands
who proclaimed their conviction to the very last that
not a hundred would go out — not forty — ])erhaps not
even one. On Thursday tl;e iSth of May, 1843.
the General Assembly was to be opened, and the
question laid to rest, while every district and nouk
of Scotland had poured its representatives into Edin-
burgh to look on and judge. Nor was that day
commenced without a startling omen. The minister-,
of the Assembly had repaired to the ancient palace
of Holyrood, to pay dutiful homage to their sove-
reign in the person of Lord Bute, her commissioner:
and there also were the protesting clergy, eager to
show at that trying crisis, that let the issue be what
it might, thev were, and still would continue to be,
the leal and loyal subjects of her majesty. But a>
the crowded levee approached his loni.-hip. ti;e picture
of King William that hung upon the wall— he wIki
had restored that Presbyterian church whf.>e r:glit>
were now sought to be vimlicatotl — fell to th.o gmund
with a sudden clang, ^\hile a voice fnim tlic crow,!
exclaimed, "There goes the revolution sct'lemcnt !"
The levee wa> over 'in Holyrood; tlie devotional ex-
ercises h.ad been finished in the catheilr.il of St. (iile-:
and the General .Xssemhly were seated in St. .Xntirew ">
Church, ready to commence tl.e br.sir.cs.- of the day—-

350

THOMAS CHALMERS.

but not the wonted business. Dr. Welch, who, as
moderator of the last Assembly, occupied the chair of
office, and opened the proceedings with prayer, had
another solemn duty to perform: it was, to announce
the siijnal of departure to those who must remain in
the church no longer; it was like the "Let us go
hence," which was heard at midnight in the temple
of Jerusalem, when that glorious structure was about
to pass away. Rising from his chair, and addressing
one of the densest crowds that ever filled a place of
worship, but all hushed in the death-like silence of
expectation, he announced that he could proceed
with the Assembly no further. Their privileges had
been violated and their liberties subverted, so that
they could no longer act as a supreme court of the
Church of Scotland; and these reasons, set forth at
full length in the document which he held in his
hand, he, with their permission, would now read to
them. He then read to them the well-known pro-
test of the Free Ciiurch of Scotland; and having
ended, he bowed respectfully to the commissioner,
left iiis chair of office, and slowly passed to the door.
Dr. Chalmers, who stood beside him like one ab-
sorbed in some recollection of the past, or dream of
the future, started, seized his hat, and hurried after
the retiring moderator, as if eager to be gone. A
long stream followed; and as bench after bench was
emptied of those who thus sacrificed home, and
living, and station in society, at tlie call of con-
science, tiie onlookers gazed as if all was an unreal
phantasm.agoria, or at least an incomprehensible an-
omaly. But the hollow echoes of the building soon
told them that it was a stern reality which they had
witnessed. More than four hundred ministers, and
a still greater number of ciders, who but a few
moments ago occupied these places, had now de-
parted, never to return.

In the meantime George Street, one of the widest
streets of Edinburgh, in which St. Andrew's Church
is situated, was filled — nay wedged — not with thou-
sands but myriads of spectators, who waited impa-
tiently for the result. Every eye was fixed upon the
building, and every tongue was impatient with the
question, "Will they come out?" — " When will they
come out?" At length the foremost of the retiring
ministers appeared at the church porch, and onward
came the long ]irocession, the multitudes dividing
with diilicuity liefore their advance, and hardly
giving them room to pass three abreast. Well, then,
they had indeed come out ! and it was difficult to tell
whether tiie applauding shouts or sympathizing tears
of that heaving sea of people predominated. On-
ward slowly went that procession, extending nearly
a cpiarter of a mile in length, down towards I'anfield,
where a jilace of meeting had been prepared for them
in anticipation of the event. It was a building con-
structed on the model of a Moorish hamljra, sucli as
might have loomed over an orange-grove in Grenada
during the days of the Zcgris and Aliencerrages; Ijut
which now, strangely enough, was to receive a band
of .Scottish ministers, and witness the work of con-
stituting a Presl)yteriaii churcli. The hall, which
could contain 3000 sitters, had been crowded from
an early hour witli tiiose who, in tlie faith that tlie
ministers would redeem their jiromises, had come to
witness what would follow. This new General As-
sembly Dr. Welch opened with ]irnycr, even as lie
had, little more than an hour jircvious, f>pcned the
old; after wliich it was his office to ])ro])ose tlic
moderator who should succeed him. And tliis he
did by naming Dr. Chalmers, amidst a tempest of
approving acclamation. "Surely it is a good omen,"
he adde<l, "or, I should say, a token for good from
the Great Disposer of all events, that I can propose

to hold this office an individual who, by the efTorts
of his genius and his virtues, is destined to hold so
conspicuous a place in the eyes of all posterity. But
this, I feel, is taking but a low view of the subject.
His genius has been devoted to the service of his
heavenly Master, and his is the high honour promised
to those who, having laboured successfully in their
Master's cause, and turned many to righteousness,
are to 'shine as the stars for ever and ever.'" Dr.
Chalmers took the chair accordingly; and who can
guess the feelings that may have animated him, or
the thoughts that may have passed through his mind,
at such a moment? He had lived, he had wrought,
and this was the result ! A man of peace, he had
been thrown into ecclesiastical controversy; a humble-
minded minister, he had been borne onward to the
front of a great national movement, and been recog-
nized as its suggester and leader. And while he
had toiled from year to year in doubt and despond-
ency, events had been so strangely overruled, that
his aims for the purification of the old church had
ended in the creation of a new. And of that new
church the General Assembly was now met, while
he was to preside in it as moderator. That this,
too, was really a national church, and not a mere
sectarian offshoot, was attested by the fact of 470
ministers standing before him as its representatives;
while the public sympathy in its behalf was also re-
presented by the crowded auditory who looked on,
and followed each successive movement with a solici-
tude far deeper than mere transient excitement. All
this was a mighty achievement — a glorious victory,
which posterity would be proud to chronicle. But
in his opening address he reminded them of the ex-
ample given by the apostles of our Lord; and by
what followed he showed the current into which his
mind had now subsided. "Let us not forget," he
said, "in the midst of this rejoicing, the deep humility
that pervaded their songs of exultation; the trembl-
ing which these holy men mixed with their mirth —
trembling arising from a sense of their own weakness;
and then courage inspired oy the thought of that aid
and strength which was to be obtained out of His
fulness who formed all their boasting and all their
defence. Never in the history of our church were
such feelings and such acknowledgments more called
for than now; and in the transition we are making,
it becomes us to reflect on such sentiments as tiiese
— 'Not I, but the grace of (jod in nic;' and, 'Let
him that thinkelh he standeth take heed lest he
fall.'"

Such was the formation and such the commence-
ment of the Free Church of Scotland. And now it
might have seemed that Dr. Chalmers should be
permitted to retire to that peaceful life of study and
meditation in which he so longed that the evening
of his day should close. But the formation of the
new church, instead of finishing his labours, was
only to ojien up a new sphere of trial and difficulty
that imperiously demanded the uttermost of his ex-
ertions, and which only promised to terminate when
his own life had ended. To him there was to be no
repose, save in that jilace where the "weary arc at
rest." But great though the sacrifice was, he did
not shrink from the obligation. The financial affairs
of the ciiurch which he had originated, and which
were still in their new-born infancy, ref|uired his
fostering care; and therefore he undertook the charge
of thesustentation fund out of which the disiiossesse<l
ministers were to be sujijiorted; and not only main-
tained a wide corres])ondence, but performed a
laborious tour in its behalf. And, truly, it was a
(lifficidt and tiying office, where money was to be
raised on the one hand entirely from voluntary bene-

THOMAS CHALMERS.

351

volence, and distributed on the other among those
wlio outnumbered its amount, and whose share had
to be apportioned accordingly. All this, however,
he endured till 1845, when, from very exhaustion, he
was obliged to let the burden fall from his shoulders,
and be taken up by younger hands, with the declara-
tion—"It is not a matter of choice, but of physical
necessity. I have neither the vigour nor the alert-
ness of former days; and the strength no longer
remains with me, either for the debates of the As-
sembly or fur the details of committees and their
correspondence." This, too, was not the only, or
perhaps even the most important task which the
necessities of the disruption had devolved upon him.
A college must be established, and that forthwith,
for the training of an accomplished and efficient
ministry; and here also Dr. Chalmers was in requisi-
tion. His office of theological professor in the uni-
versity of Edinburgh was resigned as soon as his
connection with the Established Cluircli had ceased;
but this was followed by his appointment to tiie
ofhces of principal and primarius professor of divinity
in the new institution which the Free Church con-
templated. Here, then, was a college to create, as
well as its duties to discharge; and how well these
duties were discharged till tiie last hour of his life,
the present generation of preachers and ministers
who were his pupils can well and warmly attest.
To his capacious and active mind, the mere gin-
horse routine into which such professorial employ-
ments had too often degenerated, would have been
not only an absolute mockery, but a downright tor-
ture; and therefore he was "in season out of season"
in the subjects he tauglit, as well as his modes of
educational training, esteeming no labour too much
that could either impart new ideas or fresh enthusiasm
to those wliom he was rearing for the most impor-
tant of all occupations. And even independently
of this impulse which his labours thus communicated
to the mainspring of action in the mechanism of the
Free Church, the fact of his merely holding office
there was of the highest importance to the college.
No literary mstitution, however lowly in aspect or
poor in endowments, could be insignificant, or even
of a second-rate character, that had a man of such
world-wide reputation at its head. The college is
now a stately edifice, while the staff of theological
professors with which it is supplied is the fullest
and most complete of all our similar Britisli institu-
tions.

But amidst all this accumulated pressure of labour,
under which even Ur. Chalmers had well-nigh sunk,
and the fresh blaze of reputation that fell upon his
decline of life, making it brighter than his fullest
noon-day — both alike the consequences of that new
position wliich he occupied— tiiere was one favourite
duty of which he had never lovt sight. It was the
elevation of the ground-story of human society from
the mud in which it was imbedded — the regeneration
of our town /'uriahs into intelligent, virtuous, and
useful citizens, by the agency of intellectual and re-
ligious education. This he had attempted in Glas-
gow, both in the Tron and St. John's parish; he had
continued it, thougli with more limited means, and
upon a smaller scale, in St. .Vndrews; and but for
his more oneriuis avcicatijns in Edinburgh, which
had engrossed him with'iut intermission since his
arrival in the northern capital, he would have made
the attempt there also. Hut still lie felt as if he
could not enioy the brief term of life tliat yet re-
mained for him, or finally forego it with comfort,
unless he made one other attempt in behalf of an
experiment from wliich he had never ceased to hope
for the most satisfactorv results. Since the time

that he had commenced these labours in Glasgow,
he had seen much of st)ciety in its various phases,
and largely amplifie<l his ex[H:rience of its character
and requirements; but all had (jnly the more con-
vinced him that the lower orders, hitherto neglected,
must be sought in their dens and hovels — that they
must be solicited into the light of day and the usages
of civilization— and that there the schoolmaster and
the minister should be ready to meet them more than
half-w.ay. Without this "aggressive system," this
"excavating process," by winch the deep recesses
of a crowded city were to be (piarried, and its dark
corners penetrated and per\aded, these destitute
localities might be studded with churches and schools
to no purpose. And the manner in which such a
population were to be sought and won, he had also
fully and practically demonstrated by his former ex-
periments as a minister. Let but a district, however
benighted, be divided into sections, where each tene-
ment or close could have its own zealous, benevolent
superintendent, and dull and obdurate indeed must
the inhabitants of that territory be, if they could
long continue to resist such solicitations. His first
wish was, that the Free Church should have em-
barked in such a hopeful enterprise; but its experi-
ence was as yet so limited, and its difficulties so
many, that it was not likely, during his own lifetime
at least, that it could carry on a home mission upon
so extensive a scale. He therefore resolved to try
the good work himself, and leave the result as a
sacred legacy, for the imitation of the church and
posterity at large. "I have determined," he wrote
to a friend in 1844, "to assume a poor district of
2000 peojile, and superintend it myself, though it be
a work greatly too much for my declining strength
and means. Yet such do I hold to be the efficiency
of the method, with the divine blessing, that per-
haps, as the concluding act of my public life, I shall
make the effort to exemplify what as yet I have only
expounded." Only expounded? This truly was
humble language from one who had already avne so
much !

The place selected for this benevolent trial was the
most unhopeful that could be finmd in Edinburgh.
It was the West Fort, a district too well known in
former years by the murders of P.uike and Hare, and
to which such an infamy still attached, that many of
its inhabitants lived as if a good character were unat-
tainable, and therefore not worth striving for. Its
pojiulation consisted of about 2000 souls, tlie verv
sediment of the Edinburgh lower orders, who seem
to have sunk into this loathsome locality bccaii>e
they could sink no farther. To cleanse, nay, even
to enter, this Augean stable, rer,uired no ordinary
firmness of senses as well as nerve, where sight, touch,
smell, and hearing were successively a>>ailetl to the
uttermost. Dr. Chalmers, undaunted Ijv tl-e re>u!t
of a survey, mapped this AL-atia into twenty i.;i>;r:c;s.
of about twenty families apiece, over wliicli v.eie
appointed as many visitors — men aninialed w ;tli !;.->
spirit, and imbued with his views, who^e tn-k wr,.- t"
vi>it every family once a week. cr,gn:;c v. ;:li ti.cni '.n
kindly conversation. pre>eiit tliein w iili r.-eiul t;.^^-t.-.
and persuade them to join with them in tlie reai'.nig
of Scripture and in jirayer. .\ ^chcM 1 v.-.-- ::;-' • (.[veiled
for the young in the very c! ^-e < i ti'o I'ltrke aiid
Hare murders, but w'. a clarity >^!> c i: ■ ;: tlic (.> n-_
trary, the feeling of iiiiiependence v-.rA tlie \a'.r.e of
educatimi were "to be inii re>-;e<i u[-on ;];> nv.-cr.'Me
population bv exacting a tee 1 ! 2.-. \ er v e^. k tr. in eat .1
IHipil— for D'r. Chalmers weil kr.ew !:..-.: e\-ii wi^cr
]ieople than iho~e of the V.e-t 1' ;; .--.e .". t to leel
that what co<t-- them nothing i- \v< rth r.' :h;iig._ -Ml
this he explained to them at a tall meeting 1:1 the old

35'2

THOMAS CHALMERS

DAVID CHAMBERS.

deserted tannery where the school was to be opened;
and so touched were the people with his kindness,
as well as persuaded by his homely forcible arguments,
that on the iith of November, 1844, the day on
which the school was opened, sixty-four day scholars
and fifty-seven evening scholars were entered, who in
the course of a year increased to 250. And soon
was the excellence of this educational system evinced
by the dirty becoming tidy, and the unruly orderly;
and children who seemed to have neither home nor
parent, and who, when grown up, would have been
without a country and without a God, were rescued
from the prostitution, ruffianism, and beggary which
seemed to be their natural inheritance, and trained
into the full promise of becoming useful and virtuous
members of society. Thus the cleansing commenced
at the bottom of the sink, where all the mephytic
vapours were engendered. But still this was not
enough as long as the confirming power of religion
was wanting, and therefore the church followed close
upon its able pioneer the school. On the 22d of
December the tan-loft was opened by Dr. Chalmers
for public worship, at which no more than a dozen
of grown people, chiefly old women, at first attended.
But this handful gradually grew into a congregation
under the labours of Dr. Chalmers and his staff of
district visitors, so that a minister and regular edifice
for worship were at last in demand. And never in
the stateliest metropolitan pulpit — -no, not even when
he lectured in London, while prelate and prince held
tiieir breath to listen — had the heart of Dr. Chalmers
been more cordially or enthusiastically in his work
than when he addressed his squalid auditory in that
most sorry of upper rooms in the West Port. And
this his prayers which he penned on the .Sabbath
evening in his study at Morningside fully confirmed:
"It is yet but the day of small things with us; and
I, in all likelihood, shall be taken ofT ere that much
greater progress is made in the advancement of the
blessed gospel throughout our land. But give me
the foretaste and the confident foresight of this great
Christian and moral triumph ere I die. Let me at
least, if it be by thy blessed will, see — though it be
only in one or in a small number of specimens —
a people living in some district of aliens, as the West
Port, reclaimed at least into willing and obedient
hearers, afterwards in thine own good time to become
the doers of thy word. Ciive me, O Lord, a token
fjr the larger accomplisliment of this good ere I
die!" .Such were his heavenward breatiiings and
aspirations upon the great trial that was at issue in
tlie most hopeless of civic districts upon the over-
wlielmiiig question of our day. Woulcl it yet be
shown in tlie example of the West Port that the
means of regenerating the mass of society are so
simple, and withal so efficacious? The trial is still
in progress, but under the most hopeful auspices.
\'et his many earnest prayers were answered. Money
was soon collected for the building of a commodious
school-room, and model-houses for workmen, and
also for a territorial church. The last of these l)uild-
ings was finished and oi)encd by Dr. Ciialmers for
pul)!ic worship on tlie 191)1 of February, 1847; and
on the 15th of April he ])resided at its first celebra-
tion of the Lord's supper. When this was ended,
he said to the minister of the West Port Church :
"I have got now the desire of my heart: — the church
is finished, the schools are flourishing, our ecclesi-
astical machinery is about comi)Iete, and all in good
working order. Cod has indeed lieard my ])raycr,
and I could now lay down my head in peace and
die."

A% will be surmised from the foregoing account, Dr.
Chalmers, fromalmost the commencement of his West

Port operations, had a prophetic foreboding that this
would prove the last of his public labours. Such,
indeed, was the result : only a few weeks after this
sacrament at the West Port, when, in full health,
and with a strength that promised an extreme old
age, he passed away in silence, and at midnight, and
so instantaneously, that there seemed to have been
not a moment of interval between his ending of life
in time and beginning of life in eternity. And this
was at a season of triumph, when all was bright and
gladdening around him; for the Free Church, with
which he was so completely identified, had now 720
ministers, for whose congregations churches had
been erected, with nearly half a million of money
voluntarily contributed, besides a large amount for
the building of manses; it had 600 schools; a college
of nine professors, educating 340 students for the
ministry; and two extensive normal seminaries for
the training of teachers; Mhile its missionaries were
actively engaged in every quarter of the earth. He
had just visited London upon the important subject
of a national education; and after unfolding his views
to some of our principal statesmen, he returned by
the way of Gloucestershire, where he had many
friends, with whom he enjoyed much delightful
intercourse. He arrived at his home in Morning-
side on Friday, the 28th of May, while the General
Assembly of the Free Church was sitting; and as he
had a report to prepare for it, he employed himself
in the task in the forenoon of Saturday. On the
following day his conversation was animated with all
its former eloquence, and more than its wonted
cheerfulness; and in the evening, as he slowly paced
through his garden, at the back of the house, the
ejaculations of "O Father, my heavenly Father!"
were overheard issuing from his lips, like the spon-
taneous utterances of an overflowing heart. He
retired to rest at his wonted hour, intending to rise
early on the following morning to finish his report ;
but when the hour of rising elapsed he did not
appear; and on knocking at the bed-room door, no
answer was returned. The apartment was entered,
and Dr. Chalmers lay in bed as if in tranquil repose;
but it was that repose which only the last trump can
dispel. He had died, or rather he had passed away,
about the hour of midnight; but eveiy feature was
so tranquil, and every muscle so composed, that it
was evident he had died in an instant, without pain,
and even without consciousness.

.Such was the end of Dr. Chalmers, on the night
of the 30th of May, 1847, at the age of sixty-seven.
His character it would be superfluous to sketch : that
is impressed too indelibly and too jdainly upon our
country at large to require an interpreter. Tiius
Scotland felt, when such multitudes followed his
remains to tlie grave as few kingly funerals have ever
mustered. Nor will posterity be at a loss to know
what a man Dr. Chalmers was. He now constitutes
to all future time so essential a portion of Scottish
history, that his name will be forgot only when
Scotland itself will cease to be remembered.

CHAMBERS, David, a distinguished historical
and legal writer of the sixteenth century, was a
native of Ross-shire, and generally styled "of Or-
mond" in that county. He received his education
in the laws and theology at Aberdeen College, and
afterwards pursued his studies in the former branch
of knowledge in I'Vance and Italy. The earliest
d.ate ascertained in his life is his studying at Bologna
under Marianus .Sozenus in 1556. Soon after, re-
turning to his native country, he assumed the clerical
offices of parson of Study and chancellor of the
diocese of Ross. His time, however, seems to have

DAVID CHAMBERS

CHARLES I.

353

been devoted to the legal profession, which was not
then incompatible with the clerical, as has already
been remarkably shown in the biography of his con-
temporary and friend Sir James Balfour. In 1564,
h; was elevated to the bench by his patroness Queen
Mary, to whose f )rtunes he was faithfully attached
through life. I le was one of the high legal function-
aries intrusted at this time with the duty of com-
piling and publishing the acts of the Scottish parlia-
ment. The result of the labours of these men was
a volume, now known by the title of The Black Acts,
from the letter in which it is printed. While thus
engaged in ascertaining the laws of his country, and
diffusing a knowledge of them among his country-
men, he became concerned in one of the basest
crimes which the whole range of Scottish history
presents. Undeterred cither by a regard to funda-
mental morality, or, what sometimes has a stronger
influence over men, a regard to his high professional
character, he engaged in the conspiracy for destroy-
ing the queen's husband, the unfortunate Darnley.
After that deed was perpetrated, a placard was put
up by night on the door of the tolbooth, or hall of
justice, which pul:>licly denounced him as one of tlie
guilty persons. "I have made inquisition," so ran
this anonymous accusation, "for the slaugliter of the
king, and do find the Earl of Bothwell, Mr. James
Balfour parson of Flisk, Mr. David Chambers, and
black ^lr. John Spence, the principal devysers
thereof" It affords a curious picture of the times,
that two of these men were judges, while the one
last-mentioned was one of the two crown advocates,
or public prosecutors, and actually appeared in that
character at the trial of his accomplice Bothwell.
There is matter of further surprise in the partly
clerical character of Balfour and Chambers. The
latter person appears to have experienced marks of
thequeen's favouralinost immediately after the murder
of her husband. On the igih of April he had a
ratification in parliament of the lands of Ochterslo
and Castleton. On the ensuing I2th of May, he sat
as one of the lords of session, when the queen came
forward to absolve Bothwell from all guilt he might
have incurred, by the constraint under which he had
recently placed her. He also appears in a sederunt
of privy-council held on the 22d of May. But after
this period, the fortunes of his mistress experienced
a strange overthrow, and Chambers, unable to ])ro-
tect himself from the wrath of the ascendant party,
found it necessary to take refuge in Spain.

He here experienced a beneficent protection from
King Philip, to whom he must have been strongly
recommended by his faith, and probably also the
transactions in which he had lately been engaged.
Subsequently retiring to Franpe, he pul)lishe(l, in
1572, Ilislcvrc Al>>\i[ce dc tons Ics J\oys dc France,
A >i,:^lctcrrc, cl /u-ossc. which he dedicated to Henry
HI. His chief authority in this work %\as the
fabulous narrative of Boece. In 1579 he published
other two works in tlie French language, La Kcclicrchc
dcs Snii^Hlar.t.'s Ics plus Rcntarkables ccitccrnant
r F.slait a' l-'.cossc, and Discoiirs dc la IJ^itinic Succes-
sion dcs Fenimes a:ix I\>sscssions des leiirs I'are/ts, et
dit Goin'Crne»i:nt des Princesses aux Fm/'/res ct
Keyaiune. The fir>t is a panegyric upon the laws,
religion, and \aK)ur of his native country — all of
which, a modern may he inclined to think, he had
already rendered the reverse of illustrious by his own
conduct. The second work is a vindication of the
right of succe>sion of females, being in reality a com-
pliment to his now im])risoned mistress, to whom it
was dedicated. In France, Chambers was a popular
and respected character; and he testified his own pre-
dilection for the peo]->!e by selecting their langv.age lor

VUL. I.

his compositions, against the fashion of the age, which
would have dictated an adherence to the classic
language of ancient Rome. Dempster gives his
literary character in a few words— "vir multK et
varice lectionis, nee inama-ni ingenii," a man of much
and varied reading, and of not unkindly genius.
He was, to use the quaint phrase of Mackenzie, who
gives a laborious dissection of his writings, "well
seen in the Greek, Latin, English, French, Italian,
and Spanish languages."

On the return of ([uieter times, this strange mixture
of learning and political and moral guilt returned to
his native country, where, so far from being called to
account by the easy James for his concern in the
murder of his father, he was, in the year 15S6, re-
stored to the bench, in which situation he continued
till his death in November, 1592.

Another literary character, of the same name and
the same faith, lived in the immediately folhjwing
age. He was the author of a work entitled Davidis
Camerarii Scoti, de Scotorum Fortitiidine, Dodrina
et Pietate, Libri Quatuor, which appeared at Paris, in
small quarto, in 1631, and is addressed by the author
in a flattering dedication to Charles I. The volume
contains a complete calendar of the saints connected
with Scotland, the multitude of whom is ai)t to
astonish a modern Protestant.

CHAKLES L, King of Great Britain, was the
second son of James \T. of .Scotland and I. of
Great Britain, by Anne, daughter of Frederick II.,
King of Denmark and Norway. Charles was born
at Dunfermline Palace, which was the dotarial or
jointure house of his mother the fpieen, on the 19th
of November, 1600, being the very day on which tlie
Earl of Gowrie and his brother were publicly dis-
membered at the cross of Edinburgh, for their con-
cern in the celebrated conspiracy. King James re-
marked with surprise that the principal incidents of
his own personal and domestic history had taken
place on this particular day of the month: he had
been born, he said, on the 19th of June; he first saw
his wife on the 19th of May; and his two former
children, as well as this one, had been born on the
19th day of different months. Charles was only two
years and a half old when his father was called uj)
to England to fill the throne of Elizabeth. Tlic
young prince was left behind, in charge of the F.arl
of Dunfermline, but joined his father in July, 1603,
along with his mother and the re.-t of the roya!
family. P>eing a very weakly child, and not likely
to live long, the honour of keeping him, which in
other circumstances would have been eagerly sought,
was bandied about by the courtiers, and with some
difficulty was at length accepted by Sir Robert Carey
and his'wife. This was the gentleman who hurried,
with such mean alacrity, to inform King James of
the demise of his cousin Elizabeth, from whom, in
life, he had received as many favours a> he coull
now hope for from her successor. Carey tell- us in
his own memoirs, that the legs of tlie cli'.M were
unable to sup]iort him, and that the king li.-id ,-■ mo
thoughts of mending the matter by a [air "t iro;!
boots, from which, however, he was 'li>-;:a':e I. At
his baptism, Decemlter 2;, 1600. Char!.- had re-
ceived the titles of Duke of Allurv. Marqui.- of
Ormond, Earl of Ro>s an.i l.orl Ar,i:Ka;;aJi. He
was now, January, 1605. lioiioure-l \\;!!i tjie second
title of the Engli>h royal fair.il)- Duke "I ^ "rk.

King James^ whatever may l;ave been the frivolity
of his character in some re-i-ee:-. i- uiKkiv.anly cr.-
titled to the credit of liav;r,g careiV.l'.y e'lucate.i h.:-.
children. Prince Ilenrv. tlie ellvr hr. ther. and al.-o
Charles, were prolieieut= in Er,g!:-h, I.,at;n. and-

23

534

CHARLES I.

French, at an amazingly early age. Although, from
their living in separate houses, he did not see them
often, he was perpetually writing them instructive
and encouraging letters, to which they replied, by
his desire, in language exclusively supplied by them-
selves. The king was also in the habit of sending
many little presents to his children. "Sweete,
sweete father," says Charles, in an almost infantine
epistle yet preserved in the Advocates' Library, "I
learn to decline substantives and adjectives. Give
me your blessing. I thank you for my l>cst man.
Your loving son, York." The character of Charles
was mild, patient, and serious, as a child is apt to
be who is depressed by ill health, or inability to
share in youthful sports. His brother Henry, who
was nearly seven years his senior, and of more ro-
bust character, one day seized the cap of Arclibishop
Abbot, which he put upon Charles' head, telling
him, at the same time, that when he was king, he
would make him Archbishop of Canterbury. Henry
dying in November, 1612, left a brighterprospect open
before his younger brother, who, in 1616, was formally
created Prince of Wales. At this splendid ceremony
the queen could not venture to appear, lest the sight
should renew her grief for the amiable Henry, whom
she had seen go through the same solemnity only a
short time before his death. As he grew up towards
manhood, Charles gradually acquired strength, so
that at twenty he was well skilled in manly exercises,
'and accounted the best rider of the great horse in his
father's dominions. His person was slender, and
his face — but the majestic melancholy of that face is
too deeply impressed on every mind to require de-
scription. It was justly accounted very strange that
the Marquis of Buckingliam, the frivolous favourite
of King James, should have become equally agree-
able to the grave temperament of the Prince of
Wales. Cliarles was perpetually in the company of
that gay courtier, and the king used to consider them
both as his children. He always addressed the
prince by the epithet "Baby Charles," and in
writing to Buckingliam, he as invariably subscribed
himself as "his dear dad." James had high abstract
notions as to the rank of those who should be-
come the wives of princes. He considered the
sacred character of a king degraded by a union with
one under his own degree. While his parliament,
tliercfure, wished him to match his son to some
small German princess, who had the advantage of
being a good Protestant, he contemplated wedding
him to the grand-daughter of Charles V., the sister
of the reigning king of .Spain. Both James and
Charles had a sincere sense of the errors of Rome;
but the fatality of matching with a Catholic princess
was not then an estal^lished maxim in English policy,
wjiich it is to be hoped it ever will be in this realm.
It was alsoexpecte<l tiiat the .Sjjanish monarch would
be instrumental in procuring a restoration of the pala-
tinate f)f the Rhine for the son-in-law of the King of
Great Britain, who hatl lost it in consequence of his
])lacing him>elf at the head (;f the Bohemians, in a
rebellion against the ICmjieror of (iermany. Tlie
Earl of Bristol, British anil^assador at Madrid, was
carrying on negfjtiations for tliis match, when Charles,
with the romantic feeling of youth, resolved to travel
into .Spain, and woo the young princess in jierson.
In February, 1623, he set out with the Marcjuis of
Buckingham, and only two other attendants, himself
bearing the incognito title of Mr. Jolin .Sniith, a
union of the two most familiar names in J'^ngland,
while the marquis assumed that of Mr. Thomas
Smith. At Paris they obtained admissif)n io the
rehearsal or practising f)f a masque, where the jirince
b;held the Princess Henrietta Maria of France,

daughter of the illustrious Henry IV., and sister of
the reigning king, Louis XIII., who was in reality
destined to be his wife. It appears, however, that
he paid no attention to this lady on the present occa-
sion. Ilisheartbeingfullof the object of his journey,
he directed his whole attention to the Queen of
France, because she was sister to the Spanish prin-
cess whom he was going to see. In a letter to his
father, he speaks in terms of high expectation of the
latter individual, seeing that her sister was the hand-
somest of twenty women (Henrietta was of course in-
cluded) whom he saw at this masque. That Charles
subsequently placed his whole affections on a woman
whom he now saw with indifference is only another
added to the many proofs, that love is among the most
transferable of all things. On his arrival at Madrid,
he was received in the most courteous manner by
the Spanish court, and his gallantry, as might be ex-
pected, made a strong impression upon the people.
The celebrated Lopez de Vega wrote a canzonet on
the occasion, of which the first verse has chanced
to meet our eye :

Carlos Estuardo soy;

Qi.e siendo amor mi quia
Al ciolo de Espana voy

For vor nir estrello Alaria.

[Charles Stuart am I:

Love has guided me far
To this fair Spanish sk)%

To see Mary my star.]

But while he was entertained in the most aflec-
tionate manner by the people, and also by their
prince, the formal policy of the court dictated that
he should hardly ever see his intended bride. The
Marquis of Buckingham seriously proposed that he
should send home for some perspective glasses, in
order to reduce the distance at which she was kept
from him. So far as his opportunities permitted him
to judge of her personal merits, he admired her very
much; but we suspect that if he had fallen in love,
as he had expected, he never would have broken off
the match. After spending all the summer at the
Spanish court, waiting for a dispensation from the
pope to enable the princess to marry a Pn^testaiit,
he was suddenly inspired with some disgust, and
abruptly announced his intention of returning home.
The Marquis (now Uuke) of Buckingham, whose
mercurial manners had given great offence to the
Spaniards, and who had conceived great offence in
return, is suppose<l to have caused this sudden change
of purpose. The Earl of Bristol was left to marry
the jirincess in the way of ]iroxy, but with secret in-
structions not to do so till he should receive further
orders.

It would be rash to ]ironouncc judgment upon this
affair with so little evidence as history has left us;
but it seems proliable that the match was broken off,
and the subse'iuent M-ar incurred, purely through
some freakish cajM-ice of the favourite — for upon sucli
tilings then dejiended the welfare of the nations.
This contemptible court-butterfly ruled with absolute
] lower over both the king and his son, but now
chiefly sided with the latter against his father, being
sensible that the old king was no longer able to assert
liis indei)cndency against the growing influence of
Charles. As the ICnglish people would have then
fought in any quarrel, however unjust, against tb.e
Sj)aniards, sim])ly because they were Catholics, the
war was very jMjpular; and Ihickingham, who chiefly
urged it, became as much the favourite of the nation,
as he was of the king and prince. A negotiation
was subsequently f)]iened with France for a match
with the princess Henrietta Maria. On the 27th of
March, 1625, Cliarles succeeded his father as king;

CHARLES I.

355

and, on the 22d of June, the princess, to whom he
had previously been espoused by proxy, arrived in
London.

It would be foreign to the character of this work
to enter into a full detail of the public transactions
in which Charles was concerned in his regal char-
acter. We shall, therefore, be content with an out-
line of those transactions. The arrogant pretensions
of his father, founded on "the right divine of kings
to govern wrong," had roused a degree of jealousy
and resistance among the people; whilst the weak-
ness and vacillation of his character, and the pusil-
lanimity of his administration, had gone far to bring
the kingly office into contempt. Charles had imbibed
the arbitrary principles of his father, and, without
appreciating the progress of public opinion, resolved,
on his accession, to carry out the extravagant theories
of James. During the whole reign of the latter the
commons had kept up a constant warfare with the
crown, making every supply which they voted the
condition of a new concession to the popular will.
The easy nature of James had got over these colli-
sions much better than was to be expected from the
grave and stem temperament of his son. After a few
such disputes with his parliament (for the House of
Lords always joined with the Commons), Charles
concluded his wars, to save all expense, and, re-
solving to call no more parliaments, endeavoured to
support the crown in the best way he could by the
use of his prerogative. For ten years subsequent to
1628, when the Duke of Buckingham was assassi-
nated, he contrived to carry on the state with hardly
any assistance from his officers, using chiefly the ill-
omened advice of Laud, Bishop of London, after-
wards Archbishop of Canterbury, and also relying
considerably upon the queen, to whom he was de-
votedly attached. The result was to sow distrust
and discontent throughout the kingdom, to array
the subject against the sovereign, and leave no alter-
native betwixt the enthralment of the people and the
destruction of the king. The earnest struggles for
religious freedom in England and Scotland added a
fresii impulse to the growing spirit of civil liberty.
Charles rashly encountered the powerful body of
nonconformists in England and the sturdy Presbyter-
ians of Scotland, and at last sank under the recoil.

The dissenters from the Church of England were
at this time a rapidly increasing body; and the church,
to maintain her power, thought proper to visit them
with some severe sentences. The spirit with which
tlie regidar clergy were animated against the non-
conformists, may be argued from tlie fact, tliat Laud
publicly blessed God wlien Dr. .\lexander Leighton
was sentenced to lose his ears, and be whipped
through the streets of London. The king and the
archbishop had always looked with a jealous eye
upon Scotland, where the Episcopal form of govern-
ment was as yet only struggling for supremacy over
a people who were, alm<jst without exception, Pres-
byterian. In 1633 Charles visited Scotland for the
purpose of receiving the crown of his ancient king-
tiom; and measures were thenceforth taken under the
counsel of his evil genius, Laud, who accompanied
liim, for enforcing Episcoiiacy upon the Church of
Scotland. It was not, however, till 1637 that this
bold project was carried into effect.

The Scots united tliemselves in a solemn covenant
against this innovation, and at the close of the year
163S felt themselves so conlident in llicir own
strength as to alwlish Episcopacy in a general as-
sembly of the church held in Cilasgow, and which
conducted its proceedings in spite of the prohibition
of the king's commissioner. In 1639. his finances
being exhauateci, Charles was compelled, after the

lapse of eleven years, to assemble a parliament,
which met in April, 1640. Like their predecessors,
the commons refused to grant supplies till they had
stated their grievances. The king hastily dissolved
parliament, and prosecuted several of the members
who had led on the opposition. In spring, 1639,
he conducted an army of 20,000 to put down the
Scots; but they met him with an equal force, and
Charles was reduced to a pacification, which left the
grounds of quarrel undecided. Next year Charles
raised another army; but the Scots anticipated him
by invading England, and at Newbum on the Tyne
overthrew a large detachment of his forces, and im-
mediately after gained possession of Newcastle. All
expedients for supporting his army now failed, and
he seemed about to be deserted in a great measure
by the affections of his subjects. A large portion of
the English entered heartily into the views of the
Scots. It was agreed by all parties that the northern
army should be kept up at a certain monthly pay,
till such time as a parliament should settle the
grievances of the nation. Charles called together
the celebrated assembly which after^vards acquired
the name of the Z^w^ Farliamcnt. This was only
giving collective force and energ)- to the party which
longed for his overthrow. He was obliged to resign
his favourite minister, Strafford, as a victim to this
assembly. Some of his other servants only escaped
by a timely flight. He was himself obliged to abandon
many points of his prerogative which he had hitherto
exercised. Fearing that nothing but the sword could
decide the quarrel, he paid a visit in autumn, 1641,
to Scotland, and endeavoured, by ostensilile conces-
sions to the religious prepossessions of that nation,
to secure its friendship, or at least its neutrality. In
August, 1642, he erected his standard at Nottingham,
and soon found himself at the head of a considerable
army, composed chiefly of the countrj' gentry and
their retainers. The parliament, on the other hand,
was supported by the city of London and by the
mercantile interest in general. At the first Charles
gained several advantages over the parliament; but
the balance was restored by the Scots, who took side
against the king, and, in Februaiy, 1644, entered
England with a large anny. The cause of royalty
from this time declined, and in May, 1646, the king
was reduced to the necessity of taking refuge in the
camp of the Scottish army at Newark. He was
treated with respect, but regarded as a prisoner, and
after some abortive negotiations, was, Januar)- 30,
1647, surrendered to the commissioners of the Eng-
lisli parliament, on the payment of the arrears Av.c
to the Scottish army. If Charles would have now
consented to abolish Episcopacy, and reign as a
limited monarch, he would have been supported by
the Presbyterian party, and might have esca]>ed a
violent death. But his predilections induced him to
resist every encroachment upon that form of ecclesi-
astical polity; and he therefore lost, in a great mea-
sure, the support of the Presbyterians, wh.o, thuui^h
tlie body that had begun the war, were now >;ncercly
anxious for a pacification, being in some alarm re-
s]3ecting a more violent class \\\\o had latterly >[ nmg
uji, and who, from their denial of all forms !•; church
government, were styled Indepeniients. 'I hi- latter
party, which reckoned ahnost the whole army in its
numljcrs, eventually acquired an ascendency uvcr the
more moderate Pre^bytcrian^: ami. the latter being
forcibly excluded from parliament, the few individ-
uals who remained formel tb.e:ii>elves into a court
of justice, before which the king was arraigned.
Having been fmnd giii'ty of a; j'caring in arms
against the parii.inierit. Char'.es was by th.i- curt
condemned to sullcr de.ilh as a traitor, winch. ;en-

1^6

WALTER CHEPMAN.

tence was put in execution, January 30, 1649, in
front of ills own palace of Whitehall, in the forty-
ninth year of his age, and twenty-fifth year of his
reign.

The Scottish subjects of Charles had made strenu-
ous exertions to avert this fearful issue; and by none
was his death mourned with a deeper sorrow than
by the very Covenanters who had risen in arms to
repel his invasion upon their liberty of conscience.
It was indeed impossible not to deplore the fate of
that unfortunate and misguided monarch; but it can-
not be doubted that it was mainly brought about by
his own insincerity and obstinacy. By his queen, who
survived him for some years, he left six children, of
whom the two eldest, Charles and James, were suc-
cessively kings of Great Britain; a son and a daughter
died in early youth; and his two remaining daughters,
Mary and Henrietta, were respectively married to
the Prince of Orange, and to the Duke of Orleans,
brother of Louis XIV.

CHEPMAJN", Walter, who appears to have
been chiefly concerned in introducing tlie art of
printing into Scotland, was a servant of King James
IV., who patronized him in that undertaking. None
of the honours of learning are known to have been
attached to the name of Walter Chepman ; but it is
to be inferred that his office in the royal household
was of a clerical or literary character, as we find that,
on the 2ist of February, 1496, the lord-treasurer
enters the following disbursement in his books :
"Giffen to a boy to rynne fra Edinburgh to Linlithq,
to Watte Chepman, to signet twa letteris to pas to
Woddis, 1 2d." His name is frequently mentioned
in this curious record; for instance, in August, 1503,
amidst a variety of expenses "/r^ scnntoribits" on
the occasion of the king's marriage, eight pounds
ten shillings are given for "five elne Inglis (English)
claith to Walter Chepman, ilk elne 34 sliillings,"
which may show the high consideration in which
this individual was held. Walter Chepman is found
at a somewhat later period in the condition of a
merchant and burgess of Edinburgh, and joining
with one Andro Alillar, another merchant, in the
business of a printer. It appears to have been owing
to the urgent wishes of the king that Scotland was
first favoured with the possession of a printing-press.

Tills typographical business would a]3pear to have
been in full operation before the end of 1507, as on
the 22d of December that year, we find tlie royal
treasurer paying fifty shillings for "3 prentit bukes
to the king, tane fra Andro Millaris wyff" The
Cowgate, a street now inhaljited by the least in-
structed class of the citizens of Edinburgh, was the
place where that grand engine of knowledge was
established, as appears from the imprints of some of
Chepman and .Millar's publications, and also from a
passage in the Tradiliojis of /uliii/nn-i^/i, where the
exact site of the house is thus made out: — "In the
lower part of the cluircliyard [of St. Giles, adjoining
the Cowgate] there was a small ]ilace of worshi]-),
denominated the CliapL-l of //o/yrood. Walter
Chepman, the first ]irinter in ICdinhurgh, in 1528,
endowed an altar in this chapel witii liis tenement
in the Cowgate; and, l)y the tenor of this charter,
we are enabled to point out very nearly the resid-
ence of this remarkable person. 'J'hc tenement is
thus described: — 'All and haiil this tenement f)f
land, back and foir, with houses, biggings, yards,
and well thereof, lying in the Cowgate of Ivlinburgh,
on the south side thereof, near the said clia])el, be-
twixt the lands of James Lamb on the cast, and the
lands of John Aber on the west, the arable lands
called Wairam's croft on the south, and the said

street on the north part.'" It is probable that the
site is now covered by the new bridge thrown across
the Cowgate at that point.

In the course of a few years Chepman and Millar
produced works,* of which hardly any other set is
known to exist than that preserved in the Advocates'
Library.

The privilege granted to Chepman and Millar was
of a rigidly exclusive kind — for at this early period
the system of monopolizing knowledge, which is now
an absurdity and a disgrace, was a matter of neces-
sity. In January, 1509, we find Walter Chepman
asserting the right of his patent against various indi-
viduals who had infringed upon it by importing
books into the country. The lords of council thus
reinforced the privilege they had formerly granted
to him : —

"Anent the complaint maid by Walter Chepman,
that quhar he, at the desyre of our soverane lord,
furnist and brocht hame ane prent and prentaris, for
prenting of croniclis, missalis, portuuss, and utheris
buikis within this realme, and to seclude salisbetyis
use ; And to that effect thair wes lettres under our
said soverane lordis priue sele direct, till command
and charge oure soverane lordis liegis, that nain of
thaim suld inbring or sell ony bukis of the said use
of Salisbery, under the pane of escheting of the
samyn; Neuirtheless, Wilyiam Frost, Francis Frost,
William Sym, Andro Ross, and diners uthers, mer-
chandis within the burgh of Edinburgh, hes brocht
haim, and sells daly, diners biikis of the said use, sik
as mess bukis, mannualis, portuiss, matinbuikis, and
diners uther bukis, in the disobeing of the said com-
mand and lettres, lik as at mar lenth Is contenit in
the said complaint: The saidis Walter, William,
Francis, William, and Andro, being personally pre-
sent. And thair Richtis, reasons and allcgacions herd
sene and understand, and thairwith being Riply
avisit, The Lordis of Counsale forsaidis commandit
and chargit the saids William Frost, Francis Frost,
William Sym, and Andro Ros, personaly, that nain
of thaim, in tyme to cum, bring hame, nor sell within
this Realme, ony misale bukis, mammals, portuiss,
or matinbukis, of the said use of Salusl)cry, under
the payn of escheting of the samyn; And tJiat letlres
be written in dew forme to the provest and balyies
of Edr. and to officeris of the kingis Slieriffes in that
pairt, to command and charge be oppin proclama-
tion, all utheris merchandis and persons, that nain
of thaim bring haim, nor sell within this Realme,
ony of the bukis abonewritten of the said use of
salusbury, in tyme to come under the said pain, ac-
cording to the said lettres under our souerane lordis
priue sele direct thairu]ipon; And as to the bukis that
ar ellis brocht hame be the saidis merchantis and
uther persons, that thai bring nain to the merket,
nor sell nain, within this Reahne, bot tliat thei have
the samyn furth of this Realme, and sell thaim; and
that the saidis provest, baillies, and officiaris forsaidis,

1 TIte Portcoits of Nohlotcss, translatit out of Ifreticlte iti
Scottis, be Maistcr Andro Cadyoti. — The Kinghtly Tnle of
Colagras and Gaivanc. — Sir Gla7iiorc.- -Balitiif: hi ixll our
Cardenne groiurs their no T'lowrcs. — Tlw (ioldeti 'J'it!X''<
compilit be Mai^ter William I)unl)ar.- '/'he Mnyng, or J>is-
f>ort of Chaiiccre-'I'lie hlyting of Dutihar and Kennedy. —
'I'he Traite of Orpheus Kint;;. — 'I'Jie A'ol/iiness and i;>-ete
Mng-nefcence. — Tlie lialade <fane right Xo/de I'ictorioii.s and
Mighty Lord Barnard Stewart, of .'Ud-igny, Jiarl cj JU-au-
mont, &^c. Ciimpilit be Mr. Wilyani lUinbar. '/he /'ale of
tite '/'wa Afariit li'emen and the U'edo.—/.ainent for tlir
/)eathofthe Mahharis.- I\u-tical /'eice. of one page in length,
eninmencing, I\Iy (iudaine ■:oas a gay M'yf--'/ lie '/ estatiu ni
of Mr. yindro Kennedy.- l''itts, C-^c, of /\ohyn /hid.--
/ireuiarij Abcrdonensis ad percelebris /'.celesie .Siolor.--
/■'.jusdeni /irc^'iarii /^ars yJistiTalis, /ler- /^e-'erendi/in in
Chri.ito /^atreni Wilehnuni, Ahirdon. Episeo/>uvi, studio-
sius, tnaxnnisqiic cum laboribus collect.

GEORGE CIIEYNE.

357

serche and seik quhar ony of the saidis manuale,
bukis, mesbukis, matinbukis, and portuiss, of the
said use beis brocht haini in tyme tocum, or sauld of
thaim that ar ellis brocht hame, and eschete the
samyn to our soverane lordis use : And als, that na
persons tak copijs of the buikis abonwrittin and
donatis, and .... or uther buikis that the said
Walter lies prentit ellis for till haf thaim to uther
Realmes to ger thaim be prentit, brocht haim, or
sauld, within this Kealme In tyme tocum, under the
pain of escheting of the samin; And quha dois in
tile contrair, that the said pain be put to executioun
on thaim. And that leltres be direct herapon, in dew
forme, as said Is." (Acta Dom. Cone. xxi. 70.)

The troubles which befell the kingdom in 1513, in
consequence of the battle of Flodden and the death
of the king, appear to have put a stop for another
age to the progress of the typographical art in Scot-
land. There is no further trace of it till the year
1542, when the national mind was beginning to feel
the impulse of the Reformation. Js'olhing further
is known of Walter Chepman, except what is to be
gathered from the above jiassage in the Traditioits
of EJinbnrgh — namely, that he was employed in
1528 in becfueathing his property to the church,
being then in all probability near the end of life.

CHEYNE, George, a physician of considerable
eminence, was born in 1671, "of a good family,"
though neither the name of his father, nor the place
of his birth, has been commemorated. He received
a regular and liberal education, and was at first de-
signed by his parents for the church. But though
his mind was naturally of a studious turn, he after-
wards preferred the medical profession. He studied
]ihysic at Edinburgh, untler the celebrated Dr. Pit-
cairne, to whom he became much attached, and
whom he styles, in the preface to his^'w<7i'c';/ Health
and Long Life, "his great master ami generous
friend." He has informed us tliat he was, at this
]ieriod of his life, addicted to gay studies and in-
dulgences; but that he was soon apprised by the
shaking of his hands, and a disposition to be easily
ruffled on a surjarise, of the unfitness of his constitu-
tion for intemperance. When about thirty years of
age, having taken the degree of M.U., he repaired
to London, and there commenced practice as a
jihysician. It afforils a curious picture of the times,
that he found it necessary to become a frequenter of
taverns in order to get into practice. His cheerful
temper and vivacious conversation soon rendered
him the favourite of the other gentlemen who fre-
([uentcvi those places; he "grew daily," he says, "in
bulk, and in frientiship with those gay men, and
their acquaintances." IJut this could not last long.
He soon became excessively fat, short-winded, and
lethargic, and being further admonished by an attack
of vertigo, nearly approaching to apoplexy, he was
obliged to abandon that style of life altogether.

I'revious to this period he had written, at the re-
(jUCMt of Dr. I'itcairne, ",-/ W\i< T/uvry of Acute and
S/iKi' Continued Feieis; wherein, besides the ajipear-
ances of such, an 1 the manner of their cure, occasion-
ally, the Structure of the Glands, and the Manner
and Laws of Secretion, the ()peration of I'urgative,
\'oniitive, and Mercurial Medicines, are mechani-
cally explained." Dr. I'itcairne had wi>hed to write
s.ich a work himself, in onler to overthrow the op-
posing theories of some of his brethren, but was pre-
vented from doing so by his ci)n--t.i!U api)liCation to
practice, an<l therefore <lesired Dr. C'heyne to under-
take the task in his place. The work was hastily
]>roduced, anil though it was favourably received, the
author never thuu:jlit it worthv of receiving his name.

The next work of Dr. Cheyne was entitled Fluxionum
.Metliodus Inversa : six'e </uantitatum fluent ium leges
generates. Like many men who are eminent in one
professional branch of knowledge, he was anxious to
display an amateur's accomplishment in another;
and hence this attempt at throwing light upon the
mysteries of abstract geometry. In later life he
had the candour to say of this w<jrk that it was
"brought forth in ambition, and brought up in
vanity." "There are some things in it," he adds,
"tolerable for the time, when the methods of quad-
ratures, the mensuration of ratios, an<l transforma-
tion of curves into those of other kinds, were not
advanced to such heights as they now are. But it is
a long time since I was forced to forego these barren
and airy studies for more substantial and commodious
speculations: indulging and rioting in these so ex(jui-
sitely bewitching contemplations being only proper
to public professors, and those who are under no
outward necessities. Besides, to own a great but
grievous truth, though they may quicken and sharpen
the invention, strengthen and extend the imagina-
tion, improve and refine the reasoning faculty, and
are of use both in the necessary and luxurious refine-
ment of mechanical arts; yet, having no tendency
to rectify the will, sweeten the temper, or mend the
heart, they often leave a stiffness, positiveness, and
sufficiency on weak minds, much more pernicious
to society, and the interests of the great ends of our
being, than all the advantages they can bring can
recompense."

On finding his health so materially affected by
intemperance. Dr. Cheyne left off eating suppers
entirely, and in his other meals took only a little
animal food, and hardly any fermented licpior. He
informs us, that being now confined to the j/cniten-
tial solitude of a sick chamber, he had occasion to
experience the faithlessness of all friendship formed
on the principle of a common taste for sensual in-
dulgences. His boon companions, even those who
had been particularly obliged to him, left him like
the stricken deer, to bewail his own unhajipy condi-
tion; "so that at last," says the doctor, "I \\a.s
forced into the country alone, reduced to the state
of Cardinal Wolsey, when he said, 'if he had served
his Maker as faithfully and warmly as he l.ad liis
prince, he would not have forsaken him in that ex-
tremity;' and so will every one find, when union
and friendship is not founded on solid virtue, and in
conformity to the divine order, but in mere jollity.
lieing thus forsaken, dejected, melancholy, and con-
fined in my country retirement, my body melting
away like a snow-ball in summer, I had a long
season for reflection. Having had a regular and
liberal education, with the instruction and exam] !e
of jiious parents, I had preserved a firm per>u.'-i>i','n
of the great fundamental principles of all virtue and
morality, namely, pure religion; in which I l..id
been confirmed Irom abstract reasonings, a- v.e'.l as
from the best natural philosophy. This K-! nie to
consider who of all my accjuaintance I cv.;! wish
to resemble nvjst, or which of them li.id i'-.c;ved
and lived up to the ]ilain trutlis and ]ieci ; ;- cuii-
taincd in the gospels, or particul.iily cur .'-.-.^ ;i i;r s
sermon on the mount. I then U\c<\ '>n <'\\v. a w. rthy
antl learned clergyman; .-.n 1 as in stU'i} :rig r..atiie-
niatics, and in turning v\cx Sir La.ic Newton s
philosojdiical works, I always marked d.'wn the
authors and writin-s mn-'.Iyu.-ed ar.'i rLcmnier.ded,
so in this case 1 1 urcl'.ased a:v! stu^iie 1 suJi -; ;r;U!al
and dogmatic authors as I knew tlr.- vi-ncr.Vi.ie man
approved. Thus 1 ci'lici;:e(i a -et 'if reiigiyu- i.ooks
of the fir-t ages sir.co Christianity. wi;h a few ^A the
must spiritual of t'.'.e mu.'.en.s, wLilIi have leer, my

358

GEORGE CHEYNE HUGH CLArPERTON.

study, delight, and entertainment ever since, and on
these I have formed my ideas, principles, and senti-
ments, which have never been shaken." Dr. Cheyne
further informs us, that this reformation in his re-
ligious tempemment contributed greatly to forward
the cure of his nervous diseases, which he perfected
by a visit to Bath.

On his return to London, Dr. Cheyne commenced
living upon a milk diet, which he found remarkably
salutary; but after a long course of years he gradually
relapsed into a freer style of living, and though he
never indulged to the least excess either in eating or
drinking, his fat returned upon him, and at last he
weighed upwards of thirty-two stone. Being again
admonished of the evil effects of his indulgences,
he all at once reverted to his milk diet, and in time
regained his usual health. From this moderate style
of living he never again departed; and accordingly
he enjoyed tolerable health till 1743, when, on the
1 2th of April, he died at Bath, in full possession of
his faculties to the last, and without experiencing a
pang.

Besides the works already mentioned. Dr. Cheyne
published, in 1 705, his Philosophical Principles of
Natural Relii^ion, containing; the Elements of N'atiiral
Philosophy, and the Proofs for Natural Religion
arising from them. This work he dedicated to the
Earl of Roxburgh, at whose request, and for whose
instruction, it appears to have been originally written.
He also published A7t Essay on the True Nature and
Due Method of treating the Gout, together with an
account of the Nature and Quality of the Bath Waters,
which passed through at least five editions, and was
followed by An Essay on Health and Long Life.
The latter work he afterwards published in Latin.
In 1733 appeared his English Malady, or a Treatise
on Nervous Diseases of all hinds, as Spleen, Vapours,
Jjnuness of Spirits, Jfypochondriacal and Hysterical
Distempers. From the preface of this work we have
derived the particulars here related respecting his
own health through life. In 1740 Dr. Cheyne pub-
lished An Essay on Regimen. His last work, which
he dedicated to his friend and correspondent the
Earl of Chesterfield, was entitled The Natural Me-
thod of Curing the Diseases of the Human Body, and
the Disorders of tJie Alind attending on the Body.

Dr. Cheyne was eminently the physician of ner-
vous distempers. He wrote chiefly to the studious,
the voluptuous, and those who inherited bad con-
stitutions from their parents. As a physician, he
seeme<l to proceed, like Hippocrates of old and
Sydenham of modern times, upon a few great per-
ceptible truths. He is to Ije ranked among those
who have accounted for the operations of medicine,
and the morbid alterations wliich take place upon
the human body, upon meclianical principles. A
spirit of piety and benevolence, and an ardent zeal
for the interests of virtue, run througli all his writ-
ings. It was commonly saitl, that most of the phy-
sicians of his own day were secretly or ojicnly tainted
with irreligion; but from this charge Dr. Cheyne
rendered himself an illustrir)us cxcejilion. He was
as much the enemy of irreligion in general society,
as (ii intemperance in his jirofessional cliaracter.
Some of the metaphysical notions which he has in-
troduced in his writings may l)e thought fanciful
and ill-grounded; but there is an agreeable vivacity
in liis productions, together with much candour and
frankness, and, in general, great perspicuity. Of
his relatives, his half-brother, the Rev. William
Cheyne, vicar of Weston, near Pjath, died Sc])tem-
ber 6, 1767, and his son, the Rev. John Cheyne,
vicar of Brigstock, Northamptonshire, died August
II, 1768.

CLAPPERTON, Hugh, the distinguished Afri-
can traveller, was born at Annan in Dumfriesshire,
in the year 1788. His father, Mr. George Clapper-
ton, a respectable surgeon in that town, was married
twice; by the first marriage he had ten or eleven
sons and a daughter, by the second three sons and
three daughters. The subject of this memoir was
the youngest son by the first marriage. Owing
partly to the number of his family, and partly to an
improvident disposition, Mr. Clapperton was unable
to give his son Hugh that classical education which
is so generally bestowed by people of the middle
ranks in Scotland upon their children. W'hen able
to do little more than read and write indifferently,
Hugh was placed under the care of Mr. Bryce
Downie, eminent as a mathematical teacher, through
whom he acquired a knowledge of practical mathe-
matics, including navigation and trigonometry. Mr.
Downie ever after spoke in terms of warm affection
respecting his pupil, whom he described both as an
apt scholar, and a most obliging boy, and able to
bear with indifference the extremities of heat and
cold.

It is frequently the fate of a large family of the
middle order in Scotland, that at least one-half of
the sons leave their father's house at an early age,
with little more than the sailor's inheritance of a light
heart and a thin pair of breeches, to push their way
in search of fortune over every quarter of the globe,
and in every kind of employment. The family of
Mr. George Clapperton appears to have been one
of this order, for, while Hugh found distinction and
a grave in the plains of Africa, no fewer than five of
his brothers had also adopted an adventurous career,
in the course of which some rose to a considerable
rank in the navy and marine service, while otliers
perished in their bloom. At the age of seventeen,
the subject of this memoir was bound apprentice to
Mr. Smith, of the Postleth7i'aite o{ ls\a.ry\>ov\., a large
vessel trading between Liverpool and North America.
In this situation he continued for some years, already
distinguished for coolness, dexterity, and intre-
pedity, when his course of life was suddenly changed
by what appeared to be a most unhappy incident.
On one occasion the ship, when at Liverpool, was
partly laden with rock-salt, and as that commodity
was then dear, the mistress of a house which the
crew frequented very imjjroperly enticed Claj^perton
to bring her ashore a few pounds in his handkerchief.
After some entreaty the youth complied, probably
from his ignorance of the revenue laws; was cauglit
in the act by a custom-house officer, and menaccil
with the terrors of trial and imprisonment, unless he
consented to go on board the tender. He imme-
diately chose the latter alternative, and, shortly after,
gave a brief account of what had occurred, and the
new situation in ^\hich he found himself placed, in a
letter addressed to Mr. Scott, banker, Annan, con-
cluding, though in modest and diffident terms, by
soliciting the good offices of this gentleman to pro-
cure him j^romotion. By the influence of Mr. Scolt,
exerted through (ieneral Dirom of Mount Annan,
and his equally amiable lady, Clapperton was
draughted on board the Clorinde, which was then
fitting out for the Last Indies. The commander of
this vessel, in com]iliance with the request of Mrs.
General Dirom, to whom he was related, paid some
attention to Clajiperton, and finding him active and
intelligent beyond his years, speedily promoted him
to the rank of a midshipman; a circumstance which
tended in no mean degree to fix his destiny and
shape his fortune in life.

Previous to 1813 the P.ritish sailors were trained
to no particular method of managing the cutlass. It

HUGH CLAITERTOX.

359

being suggested that this was a defect, a few clever I
midshipmen, among whom was Clapperton, were
ordered to repair to Plymouth dockyard, to be in-
structed by the celebrated swordsman Angelo, in
what was called the improved cutlass exercise. When
their own instructions had been completed, they
were distributed as teachers over the fleet, and Mr.
Clapperton happened to be appointed to the Asia,
74, the flag-ship of Vice-admiral Sir Alexander
Cochrane, then lying at Spithead. This vessel set
sail in January, 1814, for IJermuda, and Mr. Clap-
perton continued during the voyage to act as drill-
sergeant.

While lying at Bermuda, and on the passage out,
nothing could exceed Mr. Clapperton's diligence in
discharging the duties of his new occupation. Ofiicers
as well as men received instructions from him in the
cutlass exercise; and his manly figure and sailor-like
appearance tended, in the opinion of all who saw
him, to fix the attention and improve the patriotic
spirit of the crew. At his own, as well as the other
messes, where he was a frequent guest, he was the
very life and soul of the party; sung a good song,
told a merry tale, painted scenes for the ship's thea-
tricals, sketched views, drew caricatures, and, in one
word, was an exceedingly amusing and interesting
person. Even the admiral became acquainted with
his deliglitful properties, and honoured him with his
warmest friendship and patronage. Clapperton was
oi)Iiged, however, to repair to the Canadian lakes,
which were then about to become the scene of im-
portant naval operations. Here he was promoted
to the rank of liutenant, and soon after appointed
to the command of the Confiancc schooner, the
crew of wliich was composed of nearly all the un-
manageable characters in the squadron. To keep
these men in order was no easy task ; yet his measures
were at once so firm and so judicious, that, although
h_> rarely had recourse to flogging, and withheld or
disbursed allowances of grog, as a better system of
rewards and punishments, his troops in the end be-
came so orderly, that the Co)ifiance was allowed to
be one of the smartest barks on the water.

In the year 1817, when the flotilla on the lakes
was dismantled, Clapperton returned to England, to
to be placed, like many others, on half-pay, and he
ultimately retired to the old burgh of Lochmaben.
There he remained till 1S20, amusing himself chiefly
with rural sports, when he removed to Edinburgh,
and shortly after became acquainted with a young
Englisliman of the name of Oudney, who had just
taken liis degree as doctor of medicine in the college.
It was at the suggestion of this gentleman that he
first turned his thoughts to African discovery. On
the return of CajJtain Lyon from liis unsuccessful at-
tempt to penetrate Northern Africa, Earl Batluirst,
tlien colonial secretary, relying on tlie strong assur-
ances of his m.ajesty's consul at Tripoli, that tlie
road to the south of Mour/ook (the extreme point
of Lyon's expedition) was now open, resolved that
a second mission should be sent out, to explore this
imhap]\v quarter of the glolje. Dr. Oudney was,
upon strong recommendations from Edinburgh, ap-
pointed to proceeil on this expedition, in the capacity
of consul at Bornou in Central .Xfrica, being allowed
to take Clapperton along with him as a com-
jianion. About that time, Colonel J )onliam having
volunteered Ills services in an attempt to pass from
Tripoli to Timl)uctoo — and it being intended that
researches should he ma(ie from Bornou, as the flxetl
residence of the coiisul to the east and to tlie west^
Lord liathurst ailded his name to the exjiedition.
The expedition set out frum Trijin;! early in 1S22.
It advanced in a line nearlv sDUth to .Moi'.rzook,

which is situated in lat. 25" N*. and long. 14° E., and
which it reached on the 8tli of April. Unfortunately,
from various circumstances, it was here found impos-
sible to j>roceed any further this season; and while
Denham returned to Tripoli to make new arrange-
ments, Oudney and Claijperton made an excursion
during June, July, and August, to the westward of
Mourzook, into the country of the Tuaricks, which
they penetrated to Ghraat, in the eleventh degree of
east longitude.

On the return of IJcnham in Octolicr, he found
Clapperton ill of an ague, and Oudney of a cold,
and both were in a very wretched condition. On
the 29th of November, however, the whole expedi-
tion was able to proceed. Keeping as nearly as
possible in a direction due south, and very nearly in
the fourteenth degree of east longitude, they arrived
in Eebruary, 1823, in the kingdom of Bornou,
which they found to be a far more powerful and
civilized state than they could have formerly be-
lieved, the most of the inhabitants professing Ma-
hometanism. Tliis, it must be observed, was a
part of tlie world never before known to have been
trodden by a European foot. On the 17th the
travellers, who went in company with a great -Xfrican
merchant named Boo-Khaloom, reached Kouka.
the capital of the country, where tlie sultan had
several tliousand well mounted cavalry drawn up to
receive them. This city became their head-quarters
for the winter; and while Clapperton and Oudney
remained there, Denham made an excursion still
farther to the south, which he penetrated to Musfeia
in latitude (f 15' N., thereby adding in all I4ji
degrees, or nearly 9CXD geographical miles, to the
European knowledge of Africa in this direction.
Afterwards Denham made an excursion with Oudney
to Munga and Gambaroo in a western direction.

On tlie 14th of December, 1823, Mr. Clapperton,
accompanied by Dr. Oudney, commenced a journey
to the west, for the purpose of exploring the course
of the Niger, leaving Denham to explore the neigh-
bouring shores of the great Lake Chad, which may
be called the Caspian of Africa. The two travellers
arrived in safety at Murmur, where Oudney, who
had previously been very weakly, breathed his last
in the arms of his companion. "At any time, in
any place," says Clapperton in his narrative, "to be
bereaved of such a friend had proved a severe trial;
but to me his friend and fellow-traveller, labouring
also under disease, and now left alone amid a strange
people, and proceeding through a countr)- which
had hitherto lieen never trod by European feet, the
loss was severe and afllicting in tiie extreme."' Pro-
ceeding on his journey, Clapperton veachc] Karo,
the capital of tlie kingdom of Iloussa, \\hich he
entered on the 23d of Januan,-, 1S24. In generr;!
the native chiefs treated him with kindness, partly
from a sense of the greatness of jiis master, the ki;;g
of Great Britain. On the loth of Mnrcli he rcacliea
Jackatoo, a large city in lat. 13' N. and Ion. t''j I...
which was the extreme jioint of the e\]'C'i;t:'>n in
that direction. Tlie sultan of tliis ] '.ace tre.-.ie.i !-.ii'i
with much attention, and \\as f-und to lie a per-on
of no small intelligence, consiilciir.L; li;> >i"i;.i;Mn.

"March 19, I'was sent f.ir." -ay~ C.nj peit.'n.
"by the sultan, and de-iied !■' ! rii.g w;:!i i:ie the
'I'loking-glass of tlie sun' — t!ie n.iir.e tlu-y ui.ne to
my sextant. I first cxhibitci a iil.ii'i-; here of the
he'avenly bodies. The sultan knew all the signs I'f
the zodiac, some of the coii-teiiat;. 'iis, aiv! many of
the stars, by their .Arabic naiiie-. 'I'he looking-glass
of the sun was then broi;.;lit forwa;'',, ar.d occa-ioUed
much surpri-e. 1 liad to exj'laiu ail its ai'pendaL;es.
The invertin;- tele.-cj; e w.^s an i/bject of in-.meiis'J

36o

HUGH CLAPPERTON.

astonishment; and I had to stand at some little dis-
tance, to let the sultan look at me through it, for his
people were all afraid of placing themselves within
its magical influence. I had next to show him how
to take an oliservation of the sun. The case of the
artificial horizon, of which I had lost the key, was
sometimes very difficult to open, as happened on this
occasion : I asked one of the people near me for a
knife to press up the lid. He handed me one quite
too small, and I quite inadvertently asked for a
tlagger for the same purpose. The sultan was im-
mediately thrown into a fright; he seized his sword,
and half-drawing it from the scabbard, placed it
before him, trembling all the time like an aspen leaf.
I did not deem it prudent to take the least notice of
his alarm, although it was I who had in reality most
cause of fear; and on receiving the dagger, I calmly
opened the case, and returned the weapon to its
owner with apparent unconcern. When the artificial
horizon was arranged, the sultan and all his attend-
ants had a peep at the sun; and my breach of etiquette
seemed entirely forgotten." The courage and pre-
sence of mind of Clapperton are most strikingly
displayed in this anecdote.

Clapperton was very anxious to have pressed west-
wards, in order to fall in with the Niger, which he
was told was within five days' journey, and the course
of which was described to him by the sultan. But
owing to some of those malign jealousies which the
slave-trade inspires into tlie African mind, he was
not permitted to proceed. lie set out. May 4, on
his return to Kouka, wliich he reached on the 8th of
July. Here he was rejoined by Denham, who
scarcely knew him, on account of the ravages which
illness had committed upon his once manly frame.
The two remaining travellers then set out on their
return to Tripoli, which, after a harassing journey
across the desert, they reached, January 26, 1825,
about three years after they had first set foot in
Africa. They returned througli Italy to Europe,
and arrived in England on the 1st of June.

The result of this expedition was a work published
in 1S26, under the title of Narrative of Travels and
Discoz'eries in Northern and Central Africa, in the
years 1822, 1823, and 1824, by Major Denham,
F.R..S., Captain Clapperton, and the late Dr. Oud-
ney," of whichatliird edition was puljlished in 1828.
Tiie greater part of this work was the composition
of Denliam, Clapperton only writing a minor part
respecting the excursion to Jackatoo, which, how-
ever, is not the least interesting in the book. The
subject of our memoir wrote in a plain, manly,
unaffected style, as might have been expected from
his character. The work was published under the
immediate superintendence of Major Denham; and
it was not the fate of Clapperton ever to see the
result of his labours in print.

This enterprising person was solicited, immedi-
ately after his return, to undertake the management
of another expedition to Africa, in company with
Captain Pearce of the royal navy. Dr. Morrison, and
Mr. Dickson. On this occasion it was jirojected
tliat he should enter the continent witli his com-
panions at the Guinea coast, and thence endeavour
to reach Jackatoo in a north-easterly direction, so as
to make sure of intersecting the Niger. An enter-
]irising youth, named Richard Dander, applied to
Cla]>perton for j^ermission to join tlie ex])e(lition in
any capacity he might think proper. "The cajHain,"
we are informed by this individual, in his narrative
subsequently published, "listened to me with atten-
tion, and, after I had answerecl a few interrogations,
willingly engaged me to be his confidential servant.
In this interview," adds Mr. Lander, "the keen,

penetrating eye of the African traveller did not escape
my observation, and by its fire, energy, and quick-
ness, denoted, in my own opinion at least, the very
soul of enterprise and adventure." After being in-
trusted with an answer from the king to a letter
which he had brought from the Sultan Bello of
Jackatoo, and with a letter to El Kanemy, the
Shiekh of Bornou, Clapperton left England with his
company on the 27th August, not three months
from the time of his return. Mr. Dickson having
been, at his own request, landed at Whydah, the rest
disembarked, on the 28th of November, at Badagry
in the Bight of Benin.

The journey into the interior was commenced on
the 7th of December, and Clapperton soon had the
pain of seeing his two companions, Pearce and Mor-
rison, fall a sacrifice to its hardships. Accompanied
by a merchant named Houtson, who joined him as
a volunteer, he pursued his enterprise, and on the
15 th of January, 1826, arrived at Katunga, the capital
of Youriba. P>om this point Mr. Houtson returned
without molestation, leaving Clapperton and Lander
to pursue their journey alone. They soon after
crossed the Quorra, or Niger, at Boussa, the place
where Park had met his untimely fate. In July the
travellers reached Kano, a large city on the line of
road which Clapperton had formerly traversed, and
here, on the 24th, the latter individual left his ser-
vant with the baggage, while he proceeded by himself
to Soccatoo. It was the wish of Clapperton to ob-
tain permission from Sultan Bello to visit Timbuctoo,
and revisit Bornou. But all his plans were frustrated
in consequence of Bello having engaged in a war
with the Shiekh of Bornou. Clapperton, in his
former visit, had presented the latter individual with
several Congreve rockets, which he had employed
effectually in setting fire to some of the sultan's towns.
The traveller also bore, on this occasion, some con-
siderable presents from the King of England to the
Shiekh of Bornou; and thus every circumstance con-
spired to introduce jealousy into the mind of the
sultan. Clapperton was detained for several months
at Soccatoo in bad health, and Lander was inveigled
by the sultan to come also to that city, along with
the baggage, in order that the presents intended
for Bornou might be intercepted. Lander reached
Soccatoo in November, to the surprise of his master,
and immediately their baggage was seized in the
most shameless manner, and the travellers expressly
forbidden to proceed to Bornou.

Thus arrested in the midst of his enterprise by the
caprice of a barbarous despot, the health of Clapper-
ton gave way, and on the 12th of March [1827] he
was attacked by dysentery, from which there was no
prospect of recovery. The account of his last illness,
as detailed by his faithful servant and affectionate
friend, Lander, adds a most heart-rending chapter to
the mournful history of African travellers who have
staked their lives upon the enterprise, and paid the
forfeit of failure. The closing scene of all is thus
described by the sorrowing survivor: — "On the fol-
lowing day [April 2d, 1827] he was greatly altered
for the worse, as I had foretold he would be, and
expressed regret for not having followed my advice.
About twelve o'clock at noon, calling me to his bed-
side, he said, — 'Richard ! I shall shortly l)e no more ;
I feel myself dying.' Almost choked with grief, I
replied, 'God forbid! my dear master; you will live
many years to come.' 'Do not be so much affected,
my dear boy, I entreat you,' rejoined he; 'you dis-
tress me by your emotion; it is the will of the Al-
mighty, and therefore cannot be helped. Take care
of my journal and papers after my decease; and when
you arrive in London, go immediately to my agents,

HUGH CLAPPERTON.

',Ci

and send for my uncle, who will accompany you to
tha colonial office, and see you deposit tlicm with
the secretary. After my body is laid in the earth,
apply to I'ello, and borrow money to purchase camels
and provisions for crossing the desert to Fezzan, in
the train of the Arab merchants. On your arrival at
Mourzuk, should your money be expended, send a
messenger to Mr. Warrington, our consul for Tripoli,
and wait till he returns with a remittance. On your
reaching the h\tter place, that gentleman will further
advance you what money you may require, and send
you to England the first opportunity. Do not lum-
ber yourself witli my books, but leave them behind,
as well as my barometer and sticks, and indeed every
heavy or cumbersome article you can conveniently part
with; you may give them to Malam Mudey, who will
preserve them. Remark whatever towns or villages
you may pass through, and put on paper anything re-
markable tliat the chiefs of the different places may
say to you.' I said, as well as my agitation would
permit me, 'If it be the will of God to take you, sir,
you may confidently rely, as far as circumstances will
permit me, on my faithfully performing all that you
have desired; but I hope and believe that the Al-
mighty will yet spare you to see your home and
country again.' 'I thought at one time,' continued
he, 'tliat that would be the case, but I dare not
entertain such hopes now ; death is on me, and I
sliall not be long for this world; God's will be done.'
He then took my hand betwixt his, and looking me
full in the face, while a tear glistened in his eye, said
in a tremulous melancholy tone: 'My dear Richard,
if you had not been with me I should have died long
ago. I can only thank you with my latest breatli
for your dcvotedncss and attachment to me; and if
I could live to return to Englantl with you, you
sliould be placed beyond the reach of want; the .\1-
mighty, however, will reward you.'

"This pathetic conversation, which occupied
almost two hours, greatly exhausted my ma>ter, and
he fainted several times while speaking. The same
evening he fell into a sluml)er, from wliich he awoke
in much iierturbation, and said tliat he had heard
with peculiar distinctness tlie tolling of an English
funeral bell; but 1 entreated him to be composed,
observing that sick people frequently fancy things
which in reality can have no existence. He shook
his head, but said nothing.

"About six o'clock on the morning of the llth
April, on my asking him hi)w he did, my master
replied in a cheerful tone that he felt much better;
and re(iuested to be shaved. He had not sufficient
strength to lift his head from the jnllow; and after
luiishing one side of the face I was obliged myself to
tarn his head in order to get at the other. As soon
as he was shaved he desired me to fetch him a look-
ing-glass which hung on the ojijiosite side of the hut;
and on seeing the rellection of his face in it, observed
that he looked quite as ill in Hornou on his former
j lurney, and that as he had borne his disorder for
so long a time, there was some possibility of his yet
recovering. On the following day he still fancied
liimself to be convalescent, in which belief I myself
.agreed, as he was enabled to partake of a little
hashed guinea-fowl in the course of the afternoon,
which he had not done before during the whole of
his confinement, b.aving derived his .^ole sustenance
from a httle f)wl-M)up. and milk and water.

"These flattering anticipations, however, speedily
vanished, f )r on the morning of the Ijtli, being
awake, I was greatly alarmed on hearing a peculiar
rattling noi>e issuing from my ma.'-ter's thrc)at. and
his breathing at the same time was loud and ditTicult.
At that moment, on his calling out 'Richard:' in a

low, hurried, and singular tone, I was instantly at his
side, and was astonished beyond measure on behold-
ing him sitting upright in his bed (not having been
able for a long time previously to move a limb), and
staring wildly around. CJb>crving him ineffectually
struggling to raise himself on his feet, I clas]H;d him
in my arms, and whilst I tlius hckl him, could feel
his heart ])alpitating violently. His throes became
every moment less vehement, and at last they en-
tirely ceased, insomuch that thinking he had fallen
into a slumber, or was overpowered by faintings, I
placed his head gently on my left shoulder, gazing
for an instant on his pale and altered feature^; some
indistinct expressions (piivered on his lii>s, and whilst
he vainly strove to give them utterance, his heart
ceased to vibrate, and his eyes closed for ever!

"I held the lifeless body in my arms for a short
period, overwhelmed with grief; nor could I bring
myself to believe that the soul which had animated
it with being a few moments before had actually
quitted it. I then unclasjied my arms, and held the
hand of my dear master in mine; but it wascold and
dead, and instead of returning the warmth with
which I used to press it, imparted some of its own
unearthly chillness to my frame, and fell heavily
from my grasp. O God I what was my distress in
that agonizing moment? Shedding floods of tears,
I thing myself along the bed of death, and prayed
that Heaven would in mercy take my life."

By the permission of Sultan Bello, Mr. Lander
buried his fellow-traveller at Jungavie, alwut five
miles south-east from Soccatoo. After describing
the mournful scene, he thus proceeds to draw the
character of his master:—

"No one could be better qualified than Captain
Clapperton by a fearless, indomitable spirit, anti
utter contempt of danger and death, to undertake
and carry into execution an enterprise of so great
importance and difficulty as the one with which he
was intrusted. He had studied the African character
in all its phases — in its moral, social, and external
form; and, like Alcibiades, accommodated himseii
with equal ease to good, as well as to bad fortune —
to prosperity, as well as to adversity. He was never
highly elated at the prospect of accomplishing his
darling wishes — tlie great object of his ambition —
nor deeply dejiressed when environed by danger,
care, disappointment, ami bodily suffering, which,
hanging heavily upon him, f jrbade him to imiidge in
hopeful anlicii'ations. The negro loved him, be-
cause he admired the simplicity of his manners, and
mingled with pleasure in his favourite dance; tiie
Arab hated him, because he was overawed by his
commanding appearance, and because the keen
penetrating glance of the British captain detected
his guilty th')Ughts, and mai.ie him quail with apprc-
hensiiin and fear.

"Captain Clappcrton's stature was tall; Ir.s <!;;-
position was warm and benevolent: his temper nii'.d.
even, and cheerful ; while hi- ingenuous ina:.ly
countenance portrayed tlie generous emoii. r.- tl.at
reigned in his brea>t. In fuie. he united the t'gr.re
and determination of a man \\ ith the gentleness a:".d
simplicity of a child; and, if I mistake not, l;e w;d
live in the memory of many
until they cease to breathe, a
mortal; nor have I the least ■
his visiting their country \'. ;.
as a new era, froni whiLh ail
that alTect tiieni, will iKivr.:':^

The surviving traveler v.
.'^occatoo a fewi,la\- a:;cr'.\M
way to Ba'iagry. lie rea^:;^
after alme'St inere.i;l-'le li.i: -

t'

ioi:>an.!> of

A:iiea;>,

-

.-onu'tlring

n^.iethaii

'( I

■,l>t that tin

l.rio.i-T

i

l-e re,^ar>:e

1 !•;. s-n-.e

e'

-rn!~ •■i e-ii

>e :uc;xc.

pe^n^it-ed

to leave

D'

-, .-'.■.: I reti

:n on the
'the coa-t

hi;'-,' and'

reiurnii^S

GEORGE CLEGHORN WILLIAM CLELAND.

safely to England, prepared for the press a work,
entitled Records of Captain Clapperton^s Last Ex-
pedition to Africa, which appeared in 1830, in two
volumes i2mo. Before the publication of this book,
Mr. Lander had set out on another expedition, in
company with his younger brother John; and pur-
suing nearly the same route as that of Captain
Clapperton, again reached the Niger at Boussa. It
was an impression of Mr. Lander, that that river ran
into the Bight of Benin, and he had, on his return,
endeavoured to prove the fact by descending the
stream, but was prevented by the natives. He now
flxirly settled the question by sailing down the river,
and entering the sea by the outlet which is marked
on the maps by the name of Nun. Thus was a
youth of about twenty-six years of age at last suc-
cessful in solving a problem which many older and
better instructed men had failed to expound. It is
to be allowed, however, that Clapperton is in-
directly entitled to a large share of this honour, as
it was he who introduced Lander to the field of
African adventure, and who inspired him with tlie
desire, and invested him with the accomplishments,
necessary for the purpose.

CLEGHORN, George, a learned physician, was
the son of a farmer at Granton, in the parish of
Cramond, near Edinburgh ; and was born there on
the 13th of December, 1716. In 1719 the father of
Dr. Cleghorn died, leaving a widow and five chil-
dren. George, who was the youngest, received the
rudiments of his education at the parish school, and
in 172S was sent to Eiiinlnirgh, to be further in-
struc'.e I in Latin, French, and Greek; where, to a
singular proficiency in tliose languages, he added a
considerable stock of mathematical knowledge. At
the age of fifteen he commenced the study of physic
and surgery, and had the good fortune to be placed
under the tuition of the illustrious Monro, and under
his roof. For five years he continued to profit by
the instruction and examjile of his great master; at
the same time he attended the lectures on botany,
chemistry, materia medica, and the theory and prac-
tice of medicine; and by extraordinary diligence he
attracted the notice of all his preceptors. He was
at this time the intimate friend and fellow-student of
tlie celebrated Fothergill, in conjunction with whom,
and a few other young men, he established the Royal
Medical .Society of Edinburgh. So great was the
distinction of Cleghorn, even as a student, that, when
little more than nineteen years of age, he was ap-
pointed, l)y the recommendation of Dr. .St. Clair,
surgeon to the 22(1 regiment of foot, then stationed
at Minorca, under the command of General St. Clair.
During the thirteen years which he sjicnt in tliat
inland, he aj)plied himself most diligently to his
improvement in medical and anatomical studies, in
which he was much assisted Ijyhis friend Fothergill,
who sent him out such books as he retpiired fnnn
London. On leaving Minorca, in 1749, he went
with the regiment to Ireland; and next year he re-
])aired to London, in order to give to the world the
fruit of some of his observations, in a work entitled
The Diseases of Minorca. Tiiis work not only ex-
hibits an accurate statement of the air, hut a minute
detail of the vegetable productions, of the island;
and concludes with medical observations, im])ortai)t
in every jioint of view, and in some instances either
new, or applied in a manner which preceding jn-acti-
tioners had not admitted. The medical world was
indebted to Dr. Cleghorn for proving the advantage
of acescent vegetables in low, putrid, and remittent
fevers, and the copious use of bark, which had lieen
interdicted from mistaken facts, deduced from fal.^e

theories. While superintending the publication of
this work. Dr. Cleghorn attended the anatomical
lectures of Dr. Hunter; and on his return to Dublin,
where he settled in practice in 175^) 'ic began to
give a similar course himself, and was the first per-
son that established what could with propriety be
considered an anatomical school in Ireland. Some
years afterwards he was admitted into the university
as lecturer on anatomy. From this period till his
death, in December, 1789, Dr. Cleghorn lived in
the enjoyment of a high and lucrative practice, the
duties of which he varied and relieved by a taste for
farming and horticulture, and by attentions to the
family of a deceased brother which he undertook
to support. In private life Dr. Cleghorn is said
to have been as amiable and worthy as in his pro-
fessional life he was great. He was enabled before
his death to acquire considerable estates in the
county of Meath, of which his nephew, George
Cleghorn, of Kilcarty, was high-sheriff in the year
1794.

CLELAND, William, the troubadour, as he
may bt called, of the Covenanters, was born about
the year 1661, having been just twenty-eight years
of age at his death, in 1689. When only eighteen
he held command as a captain in the covenanting
army at Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge. It would
thus appear likely that he was born in a respectable
grade of society. He seems to have stepped directly
from the university into the field of arms ; for it is
known that he was at college just before completing
his eighteenth year; at which age he enjoyed the
rank above-mentioned in the Whig army. Although
Cleland probably left the country after the affair at
Bothwell, he is found spending the summer of 1685
in hiding, among the wilds of Clydesdale and Ayr-
shire, having perhaps returned in the unfortunate
expedition of the Earl of Argyle. Whether he again
retired to the Continent is not known; but, after the
Revolution, he reappears on the stage of public life,
in the character of lieutenant-colonel of the Earl of
Angus' regiment, called the Cameronian regiment,
in consequence of its having been raised out of that
body of men, for the purpose of protecting the con-
vention parliament. That Cleland had now seen a
little of the world appears from a jioem, entitled
"Some Lines made by him upon the Observation of
the Vanity of Worldly Honours, after he had been
at several Princes' Courts."'

It is a strong mark of the early popularity of Iludi-
bras, that, embodying though it did the sarcasms of
a cavalier against tlie friends of civil and religious
liberty, it nevertheless travelled into Scotland, and
inspired with the principle of imitation a poet of the
entirely opposite ])arty. Cleland, who, before he
left college, had written some highly fanciful verses,
of which we have preserved a copy below," composed

1 Wc also ol)scrvc, in W.Ttt's liibliotlu'ca Bn'iatinhn, that
he pul)li^h^;cl Disputntio Jm-idka lic rroiationibus, .^t U trccht,
in 1684: which would imply that he studied civil law at th."t
celebrated seminary.

- 'I'hesc form i)art of a poem entitled "Hollo, my Fancy,"
which was printed in Watson's Cnllcitio7i of Scottish J'ociiis,
at the beginiiinj,' of the last century: —
" In cnnceit like Phaeton,

I'll mount Phfetnis' chair.
Having ne'er a hat on,
.'Ml my hair a-burninp,
In my journeying.

Hurrying thnnigh the air.
Fain would I hear his fiery hor:,es neighing I
And see how they on foamy bits are [)la\lngl
-Ail the stars and planets I will be snrveving !
H(j11o, my fancy, whither wilt thou go/

"(), from what ground of nature
J)'ith the pelican.

WILLIAM CLELAND JOHN CLERK.

3C3

a poem in the Iludibrastic style, upon Ac cdehrated

expedition of the Higliland host whicli took place
in 167S. Ilis object was to satirize both the men
who composed tiiis expedition and those who directed
it to take place. It cliiefly consists in a ludicrous
account of the outlandish appearance, senseless man-
ners, antl oppressive conduct of the northern army.
So far as satire could repay the rank cruelty of that
mode of constraining men's consciences, it was re-
paid—for the poem is full of poignant sarcasm, ex-
])ressed in language far above the poetical diction of
that day, at least in Scotland. It was not published,
however, till 1697, nearly twenty years after the inci-
dent which called it forth, when at length it appeared
in a small volume, along with several other poems
by the same author.

Colonel Cleland was not destined long to enjoy
his command in the Cameronian regiment, or tlie
better times whicli the Revolution had at length
introduced. In August, 16S9, the month after the
battle of Killiecrankie, he was sent willi his men to
take post at Dunkeld, in order to prepare tlie way
for a second invasion of the Highlands. The re-
mains of that army which Dundee had led to victory,
but without gaining its fruits, gathered suddenly into
the neighl)ourhood, and, on the 2 1st of August,
made a most determined attack upon the town.
Cleland, though he had only 800 men to oppose to
4000, resolved to fight it out to the last, telling his
men that, if they chose to desert him, he would
stand out by himself, for the honour of the regiment
and the good cause in which he was engaged. The sol-
diers were animated so mucli by his eloquence and ex-
ample, that they withstood the immense odds brought
against them, and finally caused the Highlanders to
retire discomfited, leaving about 300 men behind
them. Peiha]is there was not a single skirmish or
battle during the whole of the war of liberty, from
1639 to 16S9, which conferred more honour on either
party than this affair of Dunkeld. Cleland, to whom
so much of the glory was due, unfortunately fell in
the action, at the early age of twenty-eight. He
was employed in encouraging his soldiers in front of
Dunkeld House, when two bullets pierced his head
and one his liver simultaneously. He turned about,
and endeavoured to get back into the house, in order
that his death might not discourage his men; but he
fell before reaching the threshold.

It is stated by the editor of the Border JMiiistrdsy,
but we know not with what authority, that this
brave officer was the father of a second Colonel Cle-
land, who flourished in the beau moidc at London
in the reign of Queen Anne and George L, ancl
who, besides enjoying the honour of having his
character eml)almed in the S/'cciator under the
deligluful fiction of Will. Honeycomb, was the
author of a Ktter to Pope prefixed to the Duuciad.
The son of this latter gentleman was also a literary
character, but one of no good fame. John Cleland,
to wlioni we are alluding, was born in 1709, and
received a good education at Westminster School,
where he was the contemporary of Lord Mansfield.
He went on some mercantile pursuit to .Smyrna,
where he perhaps imbibed those loose principles
which afterwards tarnished his literary reputation.
After his return from the Mediterranean, he went to

That sclf-i-icvduring creature,
l'r<ive so fri>\v.inl
And iint.iwnrd

Her vitals for to strain I
And why the subtle fix, while in death's woiiniK lyir~,
]> 'th not lament his woinuls by howlme and by cryin,;!
.■\nd why the milk-white swan doth sins; when she'a a-uyir.g !
H •111. my fancy, whither wilt thou go?"
ccc. ' ,S;c. C",;c.

the East Indies, but, quarrelling with some of the
mctnhers of tlic presidency of Bombay, he made a
precii)itate retreat from the Kast, with little or no
advantage to his fortune. After living for some
time in London, in a state little short of destitution,
he was tempted by a bookseller, for the sum of
twenty guineas, to write a novel of a singularly
indecent character, which was published in 1749, in
two volumes, and had so successful a run that the
profits are said to have exceeded /■ 10,000. It is
related that, having been called lx.fore the privy-
council for this offence, he pleaded his dc-stitu'te
circumstances as his only excuse, which inducc-tl the
president. Lord Granville, to buy the pen of the
unfortunate author over to the side of virtue, bv
granting him a pension of ;i^lOO a year. He lived
many years upon this income, which he aided bv
writing occasional pieces in the news()apers, and
also by the ]:)ublication of various works; but in
none of these was he very successful. He published
a novel called the Man of J/oiiour, as an amende
honorable for his flagitious work, and also a work
entitled the Memoirs of a Coxcomb. His political
essays, which ajijieared in the ])ublic prints under
the signatures Modcstus, a Briton, ikc, are said to
have l)cen somewhat heavy and dull. He wrote
some philological tracts, chiefly relating to the Celtic
language. But it was in songs and novels that he
chiefly shone; and yet not one of these compositions
has continued popular to the present day. In the
latter part of his life he lived in a retired manner in
Petty France, Westminster, where he had a good
library; in which hung a portrait of his father, indi-
cating all the manners and (fabord oi \hc fashionable
town-rake at the beginning of the eighteenth centun.-.
Though obliged to live frugally, in order that he
might not exceed his narrow income, Mr. Cleland
occasionally received visits from his friends, to whom
his conversation, enriched by many observations of
foreign travel and all the literary anecdote of the
past century, strongly recommended him. He spoke
with fluency the languages of Italy and France,
through which countries, as well as ."^pain and Portu-
gal, he had travelled on his return from the La-t
Indies. He died in his house in Little France,
January 23, 17S9, at the age of eighty.

CLERK, John, of LIdin, inventor of some in-
valuable improvements in the modem system of
naval tactics, was the sixth son of Sir John Clerk of
Pennycuick, Baronet, who filled the situation of a
baron in his majestys .Scottish exchequer between
the years 1707 and 1755, and was one of the no^t
enlightened men of his age and cnuntr)\ The
mother of John Clerk was Janet Inglis, daughter of
Sir John Inglis of Cramond. He appcar> at a;i
early period of his life to have inherited from hi-
father the estate of LIdin, in the neighlwurhood v'i
Pennycuick, and southern part of the county t f
Edinburgh, and to have married Mi>s Su-r;r.r,i
Adam, sister of the celebrated architects, by\\ii.';i
he had several children. The private life oi M-.
Clerk of Lldin presents as few inciiieiits n~ tiiat 1 ;
most country gemlemen. He \\"as (H.-tiii^uislu- 1
chiefly by his extraoniinaiy CiMiccj't.'r.s <'n t!ie ^ul'-
ject of naval tactics, tlie biitli n'ld lmmw th nf wlncli
are thus descrilied by the late Pni!c--"r rLiyfair. ;n
the fragment of a life'of Jolm Ckrk puMi-iu-i in the
Traiisactiotis of the Keval Seei:tv ef juitn'm-h :- -

"From his early yi.i;!!i a tMrtr.r.ate i:>ti!-.i.t .-ccn.s
to have directed his mind to r.avr.l r.!"a;rs. ^It is
always iiucresting to di-. :\"e tl.c ^n;.^'.l and ahn-i-t
invi-;i)le cau-es iV. .111 \\\\x\\ genii:- receives it> fir-t
impul-es, an 1 often i:s in'';l durable inr Tes-i' .ns.

364

JOHN CLERK.

'I had (says he)* acquired a strong passion for
nautical affairs when a mere child. At ten years
old, before I had seen a ship, or even the sea at a
less distance than four or five miles, I formed an
acquaintance at school with some boys who had
come from a distant seaport, who instructed me in
the different parts of a ship from a model which they
had procured. I had afterwards frequent opportuni-
ties of seeing and examining ships at the neighbour-
ing port of Leith, which increased my passion for
the subject ; and I was soon in possession of a
number of models, many of them of my own con-
struction, which I used to sail on a jsiece of water in
my father's pleasure-grounds, where there was also
a boat with sails, wliich furnished me witii mucii
employment. I had studied liol>ins(Ui Cntsoc, and I
road all the sea voyages I could procure.'

"The desiie of going to sea," continues Mr. Play-
fair, "which could not but arise out of these exer-
cises, was forced to yield to family considerations;
but fortunately for his country, the propensity to
naval affairs, and the pleasure derived from the study
of them, were not to be overcome. lie had indeed
prosecuted tlie study so far, and had become so well
acquainted with naval affairs, tiiat, as he tells us
himself, he had begun to study the difficult problem
of the way of a ship to windward. This was about
the year 1770, when an ingenious and intelligent
gentleman, the late commissioner Edgar, came to
reside in the neighljourhood of Mr. Clerk's seat in
the country. Mr. Edgar had served in the army,
and with the company under his command had
been put on board .\dmiral Byng's ship at Gibraltar,
in order to supjily the want of marines; so that he
was present in the action off tlie island of Minorca,
on the 20th of May, 1756. As the friend of Admiral
Boscawen, he afterwards accompanied that gallant offi-
cer in the more fortunate engagement of Lagoo f3ay."

To what extent Mr. Clerk was indebted for his
nautical knowledge to this gentleman we are not
informed; but it appears that previous to the year
1779 he had become very extensively and accurately
acquainted with Ijoth the theory and practice of
naval tactics. The dej^artment to which Mr. Clerk
more jiarticularly applied his active genius was the
difficulty of bringing the enemy to action. The
]-"rench, when they met a British fleet eager for
battle, always contrived, by a series of skilful man-
fc'.ivres, to elude the blow, and to pursue the object
of their voyage, eitlier parading on the ocean, or
transporting troops and stores for the attack and
defence of distant settlements ; and thus wresting
from the British the fair fruits of their superior gal-
lantry, even wliiie they ])aid a tacit tribute to tliat
gallantry by jjlanning a defensive system to slielter
themselves from its effects; in wliich they succeeded
so well that the fleets of Britain and France generally
]:)arted after some indecisive firing. Mr. Clerk now
assured himself from mathematical evidence that
the plan fallowed by the Jiritish of attacking an
enemy's fleet at once, from van to rear, exjxjsed the
advancing shi|)s to the formidaljle battery of the
whole adverse fleet; by which means they were
crip]jled and disabled either fjr action nr ])ursuil,
while tlie enemy might bear away and re])eat the
same manoeuvre, until tiieir assailants are tired out
by such a series of fruitless attacks, 'i'iiis .Scottish
gentleman, in the solitude of his couiitry-h'iu^e,
where after dinner he would get uj) a miniic figlit
with l)its of cork upon the table, discovered the
grand principle of attack wliich JJuona])arte after-

1 F'pjficc to the second edition of liis Essay on .\'ii--al
Tactics, 1804.

wards brought into such successful practice by land
— that is to say, he saw the absurdity of an attacking
force extending itself over the whole line of the
enemy, by which the amount of resistance became
everywhere as great as the force of attack ; when it
was possible, by bringing the force to bear upon a
particular point, and carrying that by an irresistible
weight, to introduce confusion and defeat over the
whole. He conceived various plans for this purpose;
one was to fall upon the rear vessels of the enemy,
and endeavour to disable him, as it were; another
and more splendid idea was to direct the line of
attacking vessels through the line of those attacked;
and by doubling in upon the ships cut off, which of
course must strike to so superior a force, reduce the
strength of the enemy, and even subject the remain-
ing ships to the risk of falling successively a prey, as
they awkwardly endeavoured to beat up to the rescue
of their companions. At the time when he was
forming these speculations, the British arms suffered
great depression both by sea and land. A series of
great and ill-directed efforts, if they had not exhausted,
had so far impaired, the strength and resources of the
country, that neighbouring nations thought they had
found a favourable opportunity for breaking the
power and humbling the pride of a formidable rival.
In the naval rencounters which took place after
France had joined herself to America, the superiority
of the British navy seemed almost to disappear; the
naval armies of our enemies were every day gaining
strength; the number and force of their ships were
augmenting; the skill and experience of their seamen
appeared to be coming nearer an equality with our
own. All this w'as owing to the generous waste of
strength which the British commanders had under-
gone in their gallant but vain attempts to come to a
fair engagement with the enemy.

"Ik'ing fully satisfied," says Mr. Playfair, "as to
the principles of his system, Air. Clerk had begun to
make it known to his friends so early as 1779. After
the trial of Admiral Keppell had brought the whole
proceedings of the affair off Ushant before the public,
Mr. Clerk made some strictures on the action, which
he put in writing, illustrating them by cirawings and
plans, containing sketclies of what might have lieen
attempted if the attack had been regulated by other
principles, and these he communicated to several
naval officers, and to his friends both in Edinburgh
and London. In the following year [January, 1780]
he visited London himself, and had many conferences
with men connected with the navy, among whom he
has mentioned Mr. Atkinson, the particular friend of
Sir Cieorge Rodney, the admiral who was now jire-
])aring to take the command of the fleet in the \Vest
Indies. A more direct channel of communication
with Admiral Rodney w-as the late Sir Charles
Douglas, who went out several months after the ad-
miral, in order to serve as his cajitain, and did actu-
ally serve in that capacity in the memoralile action
of tlie I2th of April, 1782. Sir Cliarles, before
leaving Britain, had many conversations with Mr.
Clerk on the subject of naval tactics, and before he
sailed was in comjilete possession of that system.
Some of the conferences with .Sir Charles were l)y
ap]ioiiitment of the late Dr. Blair of Westminster,
and at one of these interviews were jiresent Mr.
William and Mr. James Adam, with their nei)hew,
the late Vix<\ chief commissioner for .Scotland.
.Sir Charles had commanded the Slirliu::; Castle in
KejiiJell's engagement, and Mr. Clerk ninv communi-
caled to him the whole of his strictures on that action,
with the ])lans and demonstrations on which the
manner f)f the attack from the leeward was fully
developed.

JOHN CLERK.

365

"The matter which Sir Charles seemed most im-
willing to admit was the advantage of the attack
from tiiat quarter; and it was indeed the thing most
inconsistent with tlie instructions given toall admirals.

"Lord Rodney himself, however, was more easily
convinced, and in the action off Martinico, in April,
1780, the original j)lan seemed regulated by the prin-
ciples of the Xiwal Tactics. ... It was not
till two years afterwards, in April, 1782, that Lord
Rodney gave the first example of completely breaking
through the line of the enemy, and of the signal
success which will ever accompany that manoeuvre
when skilfully conducted. The circumstances were
very remarkable, and highly to the credit of the gal-
lantry as well as conduct .of the admiral. The
British fleet was to leeward, and its van, on reaching
the centre of the enemy, bore away as usual along
his line; and had the same been done by all the ships
that followed, the ordinary indecisive result would
infallibly have ensued. But the Formidalile, Lord
Rodney's own ship, kept close to the wind, and on
perceiving an opening near the centre of the enemy,
broke through at the head of the rear division, so
that, for the first time, the enemy's line was com-
pletely cut in two, and all the consequences produced
which Mr. Clerk had predicted. This action, whicli
introduced a new system, gave a new turn to our
affairs at sea, and delivered the countrj' from that
state of depression into which it had been thrown,
not by the defeat of its fleets, but by the entire want
of success.

"It was in the beginning of tliis year that the
[Essay c//] Xa7-al Tactics apj^eared in print, tliough,
for more than a year before, copies of the book had
been in circulation among Mr. Clerk's friends.' Im-
mediately on the publication, copies were presented
to the minister and the first lord of the admiralty;
and the Duke of Montague, who was a zealous friend
of -Mr. Clerk's system, undertook tlie office of present-
ing a copy to the king.

"Lord Rodney, who had done so much to prove
the utility of this system, in conversation never con-
cealed the obligation he felt to the author of it.
Before going out to take tlie commaii<I of the fleet
in the West Indies, he said one day to Mr. Dundas,
afterwards Lord Melville, 'There is one Clerk, a
countryman of yours, wlio has taught us how to
fight, and appears to know more of the matter than
any of us. If ever I meet the French fleet, I intend
to try his way.'

"lie held the same language after his return.
Lord .Melville used often to meet him in society, and
)>articularly at the house of Mr. Henry Drummond,
where he talked very unreserveilly of the Xaval
7\ictics, and of tiie use he had made of the system
in his action of the I2tli of April. A letter from
Cieneral Ross states v.?ry particularly a conversation
ofiliv' same kind, at whicli he was present. 'It is,'
says the general, 'with an equal degree of pleasure
and truth that I now commit to writing what vou
heard me say in company at your house, to wit,
that at the table of tlie laie Sir John Dalling, where
I was in the habit of dining often, and meeting Lord
Rodney, I heard his h.ird^hip distinctly state, that
he owed his success in the West Indies to the
mana'uvre of breaking th? line, which he learned
from Mr. Clerk's h,>ok. Tlii- honoural)le and liberal
conf.'ssion of the gallant admiral made so deep an
imjire^sion on me, that I can never forget it; and I
am ]ileased to think that my recollection of the cir-

' K.fty copies wcT'i priiitod nf lliis cditiin. .inil ilistributeii
in .1 privitc w ly. The wnr'k w.i^ ii it piiMiNhcl for sale till
1793. The cditi '11 of tli.it y-Mr is therefore stylci thcy.'rj.',
aiiJ th.it o\ iio\ the s^wvij cAiU a\.

cumstance can Ijc of the smallest use to a man with
whom I am not acquainted, but who, in my opinion,
has <leserved well of his country.'"

Mr. I'layfair then proceeds to mention a copy of
Mr. Clerk's Essay, on which Lord Rodney had
written many marginal note.s, full of remarks (;m the
justness of .Mr. Clerk's views, and on the instances
wherein his own conduct had been in strict con-
formity with tho.se views; and which copy of the
Essay is now deposited in the family library at
I'ennycuick. The learned profe>sor next relates
"an anecdote which sets a .seal on the great and de-
cisive testimony of the noble admiral. The present
[now late] Lord Haddington met Lord Rodney at
Spa, in the decline of life, when both his bo<lily and
his mental powers were sinking under the wt-ight
of years. The great commander, who had been the
bulwark of his country, and the terror of her enemies,
lay stretched on his couch, while the memory of his
own exploits seemed the only thing that interested
his feelings, or afforded a subject for conversation.
In this situation he would often break out in praise
of the A'avat Tactics, exclaiming with great earnest-
ness, 'John Clerk of Eldin for ever.' Generosity
and candour seemed to have been such constituent
elements in the mind of this gallant admiral, that
they were among the parts which longest resisted
the influence of clecay."

Mr. I'layfair then details some of the victories
of the succeeding war, in which Mr. Clerk's system
had been jnirsued. 'ihe great action f night by Lord
Howe, on the 1st of June, 1794, was, in its manage-
ment, quite conformable to that system, and its suc-
cess entirely owing to the manreuvre of breaking tl;e
line. Mr. Playfair mentions that Mr. James Clerk,
the youngest son of the author of the Essay, and
who was a midshipman on board Lord Howe's slii]i.
in 1793, had a cojiy of the recent edition of the
work, "which was borrowed by Captain Christian,
no doubt for the admiral's use." Lord .St. X'incent,
who possessed a co]>y of the book, al>o gained the
famous battle off the coast of .Sjiain by breaking
the line of the enemy — as did Lord Duncan the
more important victory of CamjK'rdown. But the
grandest testimony of all to the excellence of Mr.
Clerk's system, was the battle of Trafalgar, which
finally set at rest the dominion of Britain over the
sea. Lord Nelson's instructions on that occason
contained some entire sentences out of tb.e Essay cu
Xu'c'ul 'Tactics. .\nd it mu>t al-o be mentioiieil,
that, in his sjilendid victory of the Nile, he had pur-
sued the same system.

We have hitherto jiursued the train of demonstra-
tion favourable to Mr. Cleik, and to the originality
and utility of his system; it must now be nier.tioue'l
that a controversy, menacing the better ]iart of his
reputation, has arisen since his decease. Tlie faniily
of Rodney, in a late jnililication of his niemiiir>. (i.>-
avow the claim made by the friends of Mr. CKik.
and maintain that no communication of tliat ger.:!e-
man's jdan was ever made to their relative, or ili.M
he had the least knowledge (.f any -uth bo^k '-r ilan
as that of Mr. Clerk. Iniiiie liately after tlie ;^:;i'.i-
calion of tli's disavowal. Sir Ilowar! D^ i:^I.i~. >on
of the Late Sir Cliarle- D.vj;
cajMain at the time of the vi

a ]\amphlet, supported bv a'.itliei'itic ■!■ 'c;;:--e:.S, : '
claim the honour on behilf i-'i l-.'> t>.'.:; r. 1; wovM
be vain to enter into a f;:ll (::-i.;>-i> ■:; ' ! tie C": tro.
versy which has ari-e:i >i;i thi- ~v.'''cv", ; the re-f.l;
seem- to bo. that Mr. < 'i.rk'- ;V;c". i- I-.'-ve v.' • |.r>v,- 1
that Lord Roiiney a.:.-; 'lM il; ■ i'ioa • i I-ioakir.g t!.e
enemy's line, on t'.-.e i::;:i 'I .\;^i!. ::■ "i i.> -y~',eii\
altho';-h there are -ev, ;vl r ■: .':> !:■• :;:■.'-! hon^jur-

;la~. w]
:X' TV. c

:^ Tu ar'

365

JOHN CLERK

SIR ALEXANDER F. L COCHRANE.

able men, of acknowledgments from his lordship to
that effect. The testimony of these men would, in
ordinary cases, be very good; but in this case it is
invalidated by a tache of a very extraordinary nature,
which has fallen upon a particular part of Professor
Playfair's narrative. In contradiction of the asser-
tion that Mr. Clerk had frequent interviews with Sir
Charles Douglas, for the explanation of his system,
previous to the battle. Sir Howard, the son of that
officer, brings forward a letter written by his father
at St. Lucie, March 2, 1783, in answer to some re-
presentation of Mr. Clerk's claim, which had been
set forward by one of his friends. Of this letter Sir
Howard gives the following account and extracts: —

"After acknowledging the receipt of the letter
communicating Mr. Clerk's claim to the honour of
having suggested tlie manoeuvre of breaking the line,
by which the victory had been gained, my fatlier de-
clares 'the whole story to be so far-fetched, impro-
bable, and groundless, as not to deserve a serious re-
futation.' That, in being so near his commander-in-
chief, he had a far more experienced instructor to
guide and direct him in the execution of his duty,
tlian the author alluded to; and so entirely positive
was he that he had never spoken on such matters
with any civilian of the name, that he took the
person to whom allusion had been made, to be a
Lieutenant Clerk of the navy; but that even of such
conversation he (my father) had no recollection what-
ever. He then instructs his correspondent that,
inasmuch as \\.i is mentioned or alluded to, 'the sub-
ject should be treated as a production offensive to
himself, and as highly injurious to the person who
commanded in chief on that celebrated day,' and
who certainly did not stand in need of any instruction
derived, or that could be derived, from Lieutenant
Clerk, or any otlier person that he knew of."

Whether Mr. Clerk be really entitled or not to
the merit of having suggested the manccuvre of break-
ing the line, there can be no doubt that he conceived
on land, and without the least experience of sea life,
that idea, at a period antecedent to the time when
it was put in practice.' There is also no pretence
in any quarter to deny that his system became a
guide to all tiie operations of the Iiritish navy sul)se-
(juent to the particular victory in which it first seemed
to be acted upon, and thus was the means of en-
abling British valour to gain a series of conquests,
which unquestionably proved the salvation of the
country.

Mr. Clerk died at an advanced age, on the lOtli
of May, 1S12; anfl, strange to say, there exists no
public monument wliatsoever, to record the gratitude
of tlie country for his services. It may be mentioned,
that Mr. Clerk was the father of the late John Clerk,
Esq., advocate (afterwards raised to the bench,
where lie took the designation of Lord Eldin),
wliose professional abilities, joined to his exquisite
taste in the fine arts, and the ricli eccentricity of his
manners and conver.-^ation, will long he remembered. "

1 Mr. Clerk has been hcani to acknowlcd^jc, in tlic liter part
of his hfe, that he never enjoyed a longer sail than to the island
of .Arran, in the Kirth of Clyde.

- Sir George Clerk .Ma.wvell. of Pennyculck, an elder brother
of the author of the Saval Tactic!, Ijorn in 17 15, and who
SLicceeded his elder brother, Sir James, in the baronetcy, in
1783, wa.s distinguished by his public-spirited efTorts to advance
the conimercial interests of .Scotland, at .a time when they were
in a state of infancy. He established, at ;i considerable ex-
pense, a linen manufactory at Dumfries, and likewise set on
foot many different projects for working lead and coppi.-r mines.
In 17^5 he addressed two letters to the trustees f .r fisheries,
manufactures, and improvements in Scotland, containing ob-
servations on the conunon mode of treating wool in this country,
and suggesting a more judicious scheme of ni.magement.
These were publiblieJ, by direction of the board, in 1756.

CLYDE, Lord. See Campbell, Colin.

COCHRANE, Sir Alexander Forrester
Inglis, G.C.B. This admiral belonged to a family
of which the naval service is justly proud, being the
ninth son of Thomas, eighth Earl of Dundonald, and
consequently uncle to the late earl, who is better
known by the name of Lord Cochrane. Alexander
Cochrane was born on the 23d of April, 1758. Be-
ing destined for the sea service, he embarked at an
early age; and, after the usual intermediate steps,
was appointed lieutenant in 1778. In this capacity
he acted as signal-officer to Lord Rodney, in the
action with De Guichen and the French fleet, on the
17th April, 1780, off Martinique; and it is evident,
from the complicated manttuvres which the British
commander was obliged to adopt in bringing the
enemy to action, that Lieutenant Cochrane's office
on this occasion was one of great tnist. After the
action his name was returned among the list of the
wounded. His next step of promotion was the com-
mand of the St. Ljiei'a, sloop of war, and afterwards
of the Paeliahiiiiter, which last command he subse-
quently exchanged with Sir Isaac Coffin for that of
the Avenger, an armed sloop employed in the North
River in America. At the end of 1782 he was ap-
pointed, with the rank of post-captain, to the com-
mand of the Kangaroo, and after^vards to the Caro-
line, of 24 guns, employed on the American station.

After peace was established with our North Ameri-
can colonies, by which the latter were confirmed as
an independent government, Captain Cochrane's
occupation for the time was ended; and he spent
several years in retirement, until he was called again
to service in 1790, in the prospect of a ruj-ture with
Spain. On this occasion he was appointed to the
command of a small frigate, the Ilnid, when, on the
renewal of hostilities with France, he was removed
to the 7'hetis, of 42 guns and 261 men. With such
means at his disposal he soon showed himself an
active, bold, and successful cruiser, so that, during
the spring and summer of 1793 he cajitured eight
French privateers, mounting in all above eiglity guns.
In 1795 he also signalized himself by a bold attack
upon five French sail off Chesapeake, being aided
by the Hussar, a r>ritish frigate of 34 gmis, and
succeeded in capturing one of the largest vessels,
the rest having made their escape after they had
struck. Several years of service on the coast of
America succeeded, in which Captain Cochrane made
important ca])tures of not a few French privateers,
and established his character as an able naval com-
mander; so tliat, in l-'ebruary, 1799, he was ap-
pointed to the Ajax, of 80 ginis, and sent in the
following year upon the expedition against (^uibe-
ron, Beileisle, and Ferrol. This expedition, as is
well known, was all but useless, as the French
royalists, whom it was sent to aid, were too helpless
to co-operate with the invaders. The Aja.x, having
subsequently joined the fleet on the Mediterranean
station under the command of Lord Keith, ]iro-
ceeded to Egyi>t as part of the convoy of Abercromby's
expedition for the expulsion of the French from that
country; and on this occasion the professional talents
of Captain Coclirane were brought into full ])lay.
He was commissioned by Lord Keith to su])erinler.d

He likewise wrote a paper on the advantages of shallow
ploughing, which was read to the Philosophical Society, and
is published in the third vcjlume of their essays. In 1741 this
ingenious person was appointed king's remendjrancer. an office
of trust in the cxche(|uer, of which his father was then one of
the judges; and, in 1763, commissioner of the customs in Scot-
land. Sir George Clerk Ma.xwell (the latter name I'.ad been
assumed for an estate; died in January, i-'-i,.

SIR ALEXANDER F. I. COCHRANE

ARCHIBALD COCHRANE.

367

the landing of the British troops; and this disem-
barkation, performed so successfully in the face of
so many ditTiculties, will ever constitute a more im-
portant episode in history than a victory won in a
pitched field. With such admirable skill were the
naval and military details of this process conducted,
and so harmoniously did the two services combine
on the occasion, that a landing, whicli in the ordinary
form might have been attended with utter defeat,
or the loss of lialf an army, was effected with only
20 sailors and I02 soldiers killed. At the capture
of Alexandria, by which the war in Egypt was suc-
cessfully terminated. Captain Cochrane, with a de-
tachment of armed vessels, was stationed on the
I^ake Mocrotis, to protect the advance of the British
troops upon the city, a duty which he performed
with his wonted ability. So valuable, indeed, had
his services been during the six months of the Egyp-
tian campaign, that at the end of it they were most
honourably mentioned in the despatches of Lord
Keith, as well as those of General Hutchinson, by
whom Abercromby was succeeded.

The peace of Amiens occasioned the return of the
Ajax to England in February, 1802, and Cochrane,
with the true restlessness of a sailor ashore, as well
as the true patriotism of a good British subject, still
wished todosometliing for his country. He accord-
ingly turned his attention to parliament, and be-
came a candidate for the representation of the united
boroughs of .Stirling, Dunfermline, &c., at the
general election that had now occurred. As the
votes for .Sir John Henderson, his antagonist, and
liimself were equal, the contest was followed by
jK'tition, and the result was that in 1804, after a long
investigation, Cochrane's election was confirmed.
Two years after the wind completely changed, for at
the election of 1S06 Henderson was cliosen. Tlic
([uarter-dcck, and not the hustings, was the proper
arena for Cochrane. P'ortunately for him, the peace,
or rather hollow truce, of Amiens was at an end wliile
the ink was scarcely dry upon the paper, and in 1S03
lie was appointed to the command of the Xorthitin-
hcrlaiid, 74; and in the following year he was sent
out, with tlie rank of rear-admiral, to watch the port
of Ferrol, in anticipation of a war with .Spain. In
1805 he was commissioned to pursue a French squad-
ron that had stolen out of the blockaded port of
Rochefort. Its destination was unknown, but the
must serious consequences were apprehended, as it
consisted of five ships of the line, three frigates, two
brigs, and a schooner, and had 4000 troops on board.
Coclirane went off with six ships of the line in pursuit
of these dangerous fugitives, and after a long cruise,
in which the coasts of France and .Spain, and the
West India Islands, were successively visited, he
found it impossible to come in sight of his nimble
fjar-stricken adversaries; all that he could learn of
th jir whereabouts was in tlie instances of a kw paltrv
cajitures they liad made of British merchantmen, and
tiu'ir throwing a sup[)!y of troops into tlie town of
.St. Domingo. Tiie timidity of this flying squadron
was rewarded by a safe return to Rochefort, which
they effected in sj^ite of the Briti.-.ii cniisers that were
,^ent in all directions to intercept them, .\dmirai
Cochrane then assumed the command of tlie Leewartl
Islantls station, and joined Lord Xclson in his active
pursuit after the combined tleets of France and Spain.
In the following year (1S06) he formed a junction
Willi Vice-admiral Sir John (). Duckworth, for the
j'jursuit of a Frencli squadron that had sailed from
Brest to relieve tlie town of .'>t. Domingo. On this
occasion the French were overtaken, and in the
action that fjliowe<l, aiul wliijh lasted nearly two
hours, they were so utterly defeated, th.at of their

five ships of the line two were burned, and the other
three captured: nothing escaped but two frigates and
a corvette. On this occasion Cochrane's ship, the
Xorthumhcrland, which had been in the hottest of
the fire, had by far the greatest numl>erof killed and
wounded, while himscdf had a narrow escape, his hat
being knocked off his head by a grape-shot. .So
important were his services on this occasion, that he
received the thanks of both Houses of I'arliament,
and of the corporation of London; while the latter,
not confining itself to %erbal acknowledgments, pre-
sented him with the honour of the city, and a sword
of the value of a hundred guineas. This was not all;
for the underwriters at Barbadoes presented him with
a piece of plate valued at /'jCXD; and the committee
of the Patriotic Fund at Lloyd's with a vase worth
£yx>. The honour of knighthood crowned these
rewards of his highly-valued achievements, and on
the 29th of March, 1806, he was created Knight of
the Bath. Nothing could more highly attot the
estimation in which his exploit at St. Domingo was
held, than that so many acknowledgments should
have rewarded it, at a season, too, when gallant
actions at sea were events of everyday occurrence.

Soon after, war was declared against Der.mark;
and on hearing of this. Sir A. Cochrane concerted
measures with General Bowyer for the reduction of
St. Thomas, St. John's, and St. Croix, islaii'ls be-
longing to the Danish crown. In a few months the
whole were captured, along with a valuable fleet of
Danish merchantmen. His next service was in the
reduction of Martinique, where he co-operattd with
General Beckwith ; and for this acqui>ition he and
his gallant land partner received tlie thanks of both
Houses of Parliament. The reduction of Guadaloupe
followed, in which both commanders joined, and
were equally successful; and in iSlo Cochrane, in
reward of his services, was appointed governor and
commander-in-chief of Guadaloupe and its depen-
dencies. In this situation he continued till 1813,
when a war with the United States called him onee
more into action. He was appointed to the com-
mand of the fleet on the coast of North Americ;,
and on assuming office, he shut up and watched the
ports of the United States with a most vigilant and
effectual blockade. Soon after this the un:ver.-al
peace ensued, and in 1S15 .Sir Alexander Cochrane
returned to England. He was raised to the rank of
full admir.al in 1S19, and held the office of com-
mander-in-chief at Plymouth from 1S21 to 1S24.

The brave old admiral, like the rest of his con-
temporaries of the land and sea ser\-ice, was now
obliged to change a life of action for the tranquillity
of home and the pleasures of social intercourse; and
he passed the rest of his days honoured and beloved
by all who knew him. His death, whicli occurreil
at Paris, was fearfully sudden. Acconi]:>an:ed by
his brother he went, on the morning of the 2t)th '.a
January, 1S32, to visit his daughter, Lady Trow-
bridge, for the purpose of inviting his young grar.'i-
children to an evening entertainment ; but whi'e
he was affectionately caressing them, lie >;;'''':e:'..y
started, placed his hand on his left si'ie. ai-.d ex-
claiming to Mr. Cochrane, '"(» brotlier. v. '-at .-.
(!readf\i'l pain!"' he tell back into h;> arn>, :.\A ':..-
stantly exj ired.

COCHRAXE, Af.CHIF.AI.p. nir.tli Far! ■ f D.:--
donald, a noMenian (i>t;rigu:r-;'.ed by li> us^;.;!
scientific invotigations, was tlie - :i of Tl; n;.-s. \\x
eighth earl, by jane, daugliter (^f .Xr^hiiiaV, Stewart
of Torrence; an<l was I,iir;i oti ti.e l-t ot J..:-,uar;v-.
1748. Hi>lord.h:;\bel^r,eh;^tather'-..!e.ea^e. r:;-er.d
public lifl; a, a curaet in the 3 I Jr.ig '■::>: wl.i.h c j"i-

;6S

ARCHIBALD COCHRANE THOMAS COCHRANE.

mission he afterwards abandoned, in order to become
a midshipman under his countryman Captain Stair
Douglas. While stationed as acting-lieutenant in a
vessel off the coast of Guinea, he had occasion to
observe the liability of vessels to be rotted by the
sea, which in some cases was so very great, that a
few months was sufficient to render them not sea-
worthy. He conceived the idea of laying them over
with tar extracted from coal, a substance which was
then little known, though now identified with the
very idea of marine craft. The experiment was first
tried in Holland, and found to answer all the pur-
poses required. Being then tried upon a decked
boat at the Xore, and found equally answerable, his
lordship procured a patent of his invention for a short
term, which was afterwards (1785) changed for an
act of parliament, vesting it in him and his heirs for
twenty years. Unfortunately, the general adoption
of copper-sheathing rendered the speculation not
only abortive, but ruinous to the inventor, who had
burdened all his estates in order to raise the neces-
sary works. His lordship had succeeded to the
family honours in 1778. In 1785 he published two
pamphlets — one entitled The Present State of the
Alami/itetiirc of Salt Explaijied; the other. An Ac-
count of the Qualities and Uses of Coal Tar and Coal
Varnish. In 1795 his lordship published a treatise
showing the intimate connection between agriculture
and chemistry, and in 1807 he obtained a patent for
improvements in spinning machinery. It unfortun-
ately happened that his lordship's inventions,a]though
all of tliem seemed to tend to the public good, proved
unprofitable to himself. The latter half of his long
life was, on this account, spent in embarrassments
and privations which may well excite our sympathy.
His lordship was thrice married; first to Anne,
daughter of Captain Gilchrist of Annsfield, R.N.;
secondly, to Isabella, daughter of .Samuel Raymond,
Esq. of Belchamp, in Essex; thirdly, to Anna Maria
Plowden, daughter of the well-known historian of
Ireland. By the first of these unions he had six
sons, the eldest of whom, under the designation of
Lord Cochrane, distinguished himself by his gallant
naval achievements in the war of the French revolu-
tion. The following remarks were made in allusion
to this noble and unfortunate votary of science, in
the annual address of the registrars of the Literary
Fund S )ciety, in the year 1S23: —

"A man born in the high class of the old British
peerage has devoted his acute and investigating mind
solely to the prosecution of science; and his jwweis
have prevailed in the pursuit. The discoveries ef-
fected by his scientific research, with its direction
altogether to utility, have been in many instances
beneficial to the community, and in many have been
the sources of wealth to individuals. To himself
alone they have been unprofitable; for with a superior
disdain, or (if you jdeasc) a culpable disregard of ilic
g )ods of fortune, lie has scattered around him the
produce of his intellect with a lavish and wild hand.
If we may use ih.' consecrated words of an apostle,
'though poor, he hath made many rich,' and thougji
in the immediate neighbourhood of wealth, iie has
been doomed to suffer, through a long scries of
laborious years, the severities of want. In his ad-
vanced age he found an estimable woman, in poverty,
it is true, like himself, but of uns)iotted character,
and of high though untitled family, to participate
the calamity of his fortunes; and with her virtues
and )irudence, assisted by a small pension which she
obtained from the benevolence of the crown, slic
threw a gleam of light over the dark decline of his
day. She was soon, however, torn from him by
death, and, with an infant which she bequeathed to

him, he was abandoned to destitution and distress
(for the pension was extinguished with her life). To
this man, thus favoured by nature, and thus perse-
cuted by fortune, we have been happy to offer some
little alleviation of his sorrows; and to prevent him
from breathing his last under the oppressive sense
of the ingratitude of his species."

The Earl of Dundonald died in poverty at Paris
on the 1st of July 1831, at the advanced age of
eighty-three years.

COCHRANE, The Hon. Thomas, Earl of Dun-
donald and Baron Cochrane. This gallant ocean
hero and successful admiral — whom we commemorate
by the simple title under whicli his remarkable deeds
were wrought, and who made the name of " Lord
Cochrane" so illustrious that the higher rank which
he finally attained could not aggranriize it — was the
eldest son of Archibald, ninth Earl of Dundonald, of
whom a notice has been given in the preceding article.
He was born on the 14th December, 1775, at Anns-
field, Lanarkshire. The family of Cochrane was
descended from that architect of the name who was
the chief favourite of James HI., and whose suj^erior
share of the royal favour only procured him a higher
gibbet than the rest, when all the king's favourites
were summarily hanged by the revolted Scottish
nobles at the Bridge of Lauder. Although that branch
of his descendants from whom our naval hero was
derived was ennobled by Charles I., and finally
raised to the earldom of Dundonald at the Restor-
ation, a series of political fines and forfeitures,
combined with personal improvidence and misman-
agement, had so dilapidated the family estates that
little else remained to the Cochranes but the high
hereditary title. This descending career of poverty
was at last completed by the Earl of Dundonald,
the father of the subject of our memoir, whose
enthusiastic devotedness to science, and the expen-
sive experiments into which it led him, involved the
family in utter bankruptcy. So hopeless indeed was
their condition that the earl's children owed their
early education to the gratuitous labours of the
minister of Culross, to which parish the latter had
been presented by the earl, who held tlie ]iatronage
of the living, lliis kind inteiposition was also suji-
plemented by the maternal grandmother of the boys,
who provided them with a tutor from h$r own scanty
revenues. Thus, while the earl's splendid discoveri'js
in science were either overlooked, or pirated by
those who were more skilful in turning them to a
practical or profitable account, his children M'cre
obliged to de])end upon the kindness of others for
even the means of an ordinary education. It was
no wonder if, m his subsequent naval captures. Lord
Cochrane could occasionally ha\e an eye to the
advantages of prize-money.

As the jiresent destination of the heir to a noble
title and nothing else was a question of sonic import-
ance, the father selected the army for his son, as his
best chance of rising in the world ; but Thomas,
who already had a will of his own, and a jircfcrciice
to tlie element on which he was to .'•hiiie, chose the
navy. This contrariety led to a game at cross ]nir-
poses, in which, however amusing it might look, a
great hero was to be made or marred. The earl
obtained for him an army commission ; but the
youth's uncle, Sir Alexander Cochrane, had already
(les'ined him for the sea, and put his name on (he
bo(jl;s of the several shi])s which he had successively
commanded. In this way Lord Cochrane, without
any effort of his own, found himself at one and the
same time an army ensign and a navy niidshi])man
— t!ie last-mentioned commission not being of yes-

THOMAS COCHRANE.

359

terday neither, but of some standing. To put an
end to tliis amphiliious condition, the father thrust
him into regimentals, that he might march at once
to head-quarters; and here tlie long-smothered rebel-
lion broke out. The young rising hero, now six feet
in height, felt himself so hampered by the pedantic
military costume, and cutting such a bizarre figure,
that he vowed he would not be a soldier, although
the declaration brought him no trivial amount of
blows, culTs, and reproaches. A sailor he would be,
and nothing else, so that the earl was compelled to
yield. The Earl of Hopetoun, a connection of tlie
family, advanced ;^ioo for the youth's outfit ; the
Earl of Dundonald gave him his gold watch and his
blessing — all the fortune he had to bestow ; and at
the age of seventeen Lord Cochrane joined the
Hind, of 28 guns, at Sheerness, on the ship's books of
which he already stood rated as midsliipman, his
uncle Sir Alexander being captain. The die for
life being thus cast, the young midshipman was not
slow in learning his profession, or indicating his
fitness to command. After serving some time in the
Hind, he was transferred to the Thdis — a better
frigate — of which he was made acting third lieu-
tenant only eighteen months after he had joined the
service; and after remaining five years on the North
American station, he served under Lord Keith in
the Mediterranean — first in the Barjiciir, and after-
wards in the Queen Charlotte. While thus em-
employed in the Mediterranean various stories of his
lordship's daring were told, after he became a man
of high mark; but of these we shall only notice one,
as it opened tlie way for his career in a separate
command. To the Gencreiix, 74, a capture of Lord
Nelson's, Cochrane was appointed prize-master; but
the ship's rigging was in a very dangerous condition,
while tlie crew serving under him were ver)' scanty
and inefficient for such a charge. In this state of
matters the Gencreiix was caught in a gale of wind,
her masts and spars were in peril, and none of the
crew could be induced to go aloft. At this crisis
Lord Cochrane ascended the precarious rigging,
accompanied by his brother Archibald, wlio had also
entered the naval service, and followed by a few
sailors whom their exa.mple had inspired; the main-
sail was furled, and the vessel, which otherwise
would have foundered, was carried safely into Port
Mahon. This appointment to the perilous charge
of such a prize-ship in all probability saved his
lordship's life, as, during his absence, the Queen
Charlotte, in which he was junior lieutenant, took
fire at Leghorn, and her captain, the greater part of
the officers, and 600 of the crew perished.

The gallant devotedness of Cochrane in saving the
prize-ship was so well appreciated, that the admiral
recommended him for promotion, and in the mean-
time appointed him to the command of a little non-
descript man-of-war, called the SjWdy. Notwith-
standing her name, her powers of sailing were of the
slowest, her scanty and uncomfortable accommoda-
tion was crijwded with a crew of eighty-four men
and six officers, while her armament consisted of
fourteen guns tliat were nothing more than four-
pounders. .Strange ships of war were occasionally
to be found in the British navy even at tlie close of
the eigiiteenth century; but of thoni all, the Speedy
might he considered the climax. On taking posses-
sion of his cabin. Lord Cochrane found that the roof
was only five feet in height, so that when he stood
upriglit in this cage, the skyliglit had to be removed.
I'^en the process of shaving he could only perform
by thrusting his head and shoulders through this
opening, anil using the deck for a toilet-table. 15ut
in this strange craft he w;is to show the wo:uierful

vol.. I.

power of his gcniu.s, that could rise superior to difii-
culties, and perform great dectls with inadequate
means. He was ajipointcil to cruise in the Medi-
terranean, and his first exploit was to rescue a Danish
brig, and capture her assailant, a French privateer
of six guns and forty-eight men. (Jnward he then
continued in his career, at one time capturing mer-
chant vessels and smaller privateers, and at anotlier
escaping the pursuit of gun-boats, the Speedy having
acquired under his command an adroitness in man-
(cuvering and quickness in .sailing, that changed her
character, and made her worthy of her name. Such,
indeed, was the terror inspired by this vessel along
the Spanish coast, by the daring nature of her ex-
ploits and the number of her captures, that various
plans were devised for its seizure; and as this could
not easily be done either by ijuick sailing or direct
attack, it was resolved to allure her within reach by
stratagem. Lor this puqsose a frigate was dL-guised
into the appearance of a well-laden merchantman;
the Speedy pursued, and was allowed to near her,
when the frigate suddenly turned, and opened such
a cannonade as would have soon annihilated her
tormenting adversary. But Lord Cochrane h.ad also
disguised the Speedy, so that she might pass for a
Dane; and, on hoisting Danish colours, the .Span-
iards ceased to fire, and sent out a boat, to make
sure that they had not committed a mistake. But
even for this awkward inquest his lordship had
prepared, by shipping a quarter-master on board with
a sort of Danish uniform; and, on the boat coming
nigh, a 3'ellow flag, the sign of the plague, was run
up by the Speedy, while the quarter-master declared
that the ship had two days ago left Algiers, where
the pestilence was raging. This dreaded word was
enough for the Spaniards, who did not venture to
come on board, and the Speedy was allowed to con-
tinue her course without further question. And if
there was any reluctance at such a peaceful parting,
it was on the part of his lordship's crew, who had
thus so narrowly escaped the jaws of death. Hitherto
their successes had been so many and so marvellous,
that they thought nothing impossible under such a
leader; and they murmured, because they had not
been allowed to give battle to the Spanish frigate,
although it was mounted with at least thirty guns.

Ihe great naval exploit of Cochrane in the afl'air
of the J£l Gamo, in the following year, showed that
this confidence, apparently so ovenveening, had not
been unreasonable. .M'ter several ajjpearances at
places where the Speedy was least expected, so that
slie seemed at once to be everywhere, and dealing
such heavy blows as made her visits most unwelcome
wherever she came, she arrived off Barcelona at mid-
night, on the 5th of May, iSoi. Here gun-l>oat>
were on the watch, that fled at the ajipcarance of tb.e
intruder; but, suspecting that this flight w.ts for the
puqiose of alluring him into some net. Lord (,"och-
rane made a cautious and cxploratc^ry light, that
night and the following morning. His caution wa-.
justified by the result, for on tlie morning of the t>;li,
on approaching Barcelona, a large ^p.ir;;.-li Ne;;cc
frigate nnming under the Limi :^u(:^ieIlIy .T,';e,-.red.
This, then, was the cau>e of tlie i'reter.iic^i lii-hl ot
the gun-boats. Koolvcd to .^cce||^ ll'.c ottered chal-
lenge, and mindful of the (i;.->ati~fact;-n of !,!> crcu-
at the forbearance he had inan:!c~;ed twv,aui> the
former frigate, his lordship mv.^icrcd tluin u] oii
deck, and although thev only aiii' 'r.ntci. ot:icer> ai:u
boys included, to fifty-four, the re-t . :' l.i- han.!->
having been >ent to Poit .M.-.r. >n in c:..-.rgc ol t-.vo
prizes", he told them that nnw tliey ..'.lould f.avc a
fair fight of it. The Speedy wa^ hol'liy directui
a''ain-,t tl;e coniiiiL: enci;i\ ; ai-i, on tlie latter i'.oi>t-

24

yjo

THOMAS COCHRANE.

ing Spanish colours, tlie former, to avoid the other's
broadside, and increase the enemy's perplexity, hoisted
American colours. The Speedy thus got on the other
tack, and when she hoisted English colours, she
received the Spaniard's broadside without damage.
Another broadside equally harmless followed, the
Speedy making no reply until she had run under the
enemy's lee, and locked her yards among the other's
rigging. Thus locked, she was safe from the enemy's
cannonade, that went harmlessly over the heads of
the English, while the little popguns of the Speedy,
that would have been useless at a distance, made a
fearful havoc upon the deck of the frigate, as they
were trebly shotted, and fired at an elevation. Their
first discharge killed the captain and boatswain of the
Spanish ship, and produced such confusion among
her crew, that they resolved to board the Speedy;
but as the order to that effect was distinctly heard
on b'jard the latter vessel, she was promptly with-
drawn from the attempt, plying the enemy in return
with a discharge of her guns, and a volley of mus-
ketry. Twice the enemy attempted to board, and as
often was the attempt baffled by the same manoeuvre.
The Spaniards then confined themselves to a can-
nonade, which did little damage except to the rigging
of the Speedy; this, however, was becoming so serious,
that Lord Cochrane told his crew they must either
take the Spaniard, or be themselves taken, in which
case the enemy would give no quarter. Mis ardour
was shared by his crew, and in a few seconds every
man and boy of the Speedy was on the deck of the
Spaniards, who gazed in bewilderment, unable to
believe their eyes, or that a mere handful would
make such a daring attempt. They rallied, how-
ever, upon tlie waist of tlieir ship, and maintained
a gallant resistance; but, in the heat of it, Lord
Cochrane ordered one of his men to haul down the
•Spanish colours, which were still flying. This
prompt act decided the conflict; the crew of the
Gatno saw their flag struck, and believing that it had
been done by tlie command of their own officers,
they ceased their resistance, and surrendered. In
this manner the Gamo, a frigate of thirty-two heavy
guns, and a crew of 319 men, was encountered,
boarded, and taken by a British vessel that was
nothing better than a common coaster, manned by
fifty-four hands. No exploit could better indicate
the coolness of mind and wonderful resources of
Lorrl Cochrane, who seemed to have a ready ex-
pedient for every emergency, however trying. If
anything could enhance tlie glory of victory in such
an unc<|ual trial, it was the small jirice at wdiich it
liad been won, for while llie Speedy had only three
seamen killed and eighteen wounded, the Gaino h.ati
fifteen killed and forty-one wounded.

Not long after this remarkable exploit, while
cruising off Barcelona, Lord Cochrane, on the 1st
of June, fjU in with the Englisli brig A'atri^aroo, com-
manded by Captain Pulling; and having learned
tiiat a Spanish convoy of live armed vessels and
twelve shi])s were about three days' sail a-head,
the two British commanders resolved to go in chase
of it. They found indeed the convoy, but it was at
anchor under the shelter of the battery of Oropesa,
and with the additi(jnal protection of a xeliec of
twenty guns and three gun-boats. L'ndisinayed by
such difficulties, the Kiuv^aroo and Speedy advanced
to tiie attack; the liattle commenced with a heavy
cannonade, which was deepened by the arrival of a
Spanish felucca and two gun-boats to the aid of the
convoy. This hot fight continued from noon until
seven o'clock in the evening, when the xebec and
several of the gun-boats were sunk and the battery
silenced. Three prizes on this occasion v.ere se-

cured, but the rest of the convoy had either been
sunk or driven on shore.

Lord Cochrane had now done enough to merit
both rapid and high promotion. With a vessel that
was reckoned a mere tub, and during the short
space of thirteen months in which he commanded
her, he had captured in all thirty-three vessels,
mounting 128 guns and manned by 533 hands. But
on returning from his successful cruise to Port Mahon,
he found that no promotion as yet awaited him,
while, instead of being transferred to the command
of the Gamo, that fine ship which he had so nobly
won, it had been sold by the British admiralty to
the Dey of Algiers. He was again to put to sea in
no better ship than the Speedy, and v>'ith no higher
commission than to convoy a mail-boat to Gibraltar.
.\s if to tie his hands also from action, he was pro-
hibited from holding any communication with the
shore. But he did not think that this prohibi-
tion prevented him from setting fire to ships that
were ashore, and having chased some Spanish vessels
and driven them ashore near Alicante, he forthwith
burned them. The blaze, however, served as a signal
to three French line-of-battle ships, and when they
appeared Lord Cochrane gave chase, mistaking
them for galleons. On discovering his error he tried
every art in navigation to elude his adversaries, and
succeeded for several hours to elude their shot; but
all his attempts to run through or outstrip his
numerous pursuers were in vain. One of the P'rench
ships, that got within musket-range of the Speedy,
discharged a whole broadside at her, and though the
damage inflicted was but slight, the next discharge
would suffice to send her to tlie bottom. For the
first and last time Lord Cochrane was compelled
to suike, but did not long remain a prisoner, as he
was soon after exchanged for the second captain of
the San Antonio, taken by Admiral Saumarez. On
the following month, August 8th, his tardy promo-
tion came, but it was commensurate neither with his
merits nor his deeds, being simply the rank of post-
captain, while his name was placed at the bottom of
the list, below those who had received the same
rank subsequent to the capture of the Gamo. His
just but bold and indignant remonstrances hatl
already made him a marked man with the lords f)f
the admiralty, but not for the purposes of patronage
and advancement. The joeace of Amiens whicii
speedily ensued obliged Lord Cochrane to turn his
restless spirit to a new sphere of action, but it was
to a sphere as honourable to himself as it was unex-
pected by either friend or enemy. He became a
student in the university of lulinburgh ! It was the
very step which he ought to have taken, as, notwith-
standing his high deeds, he still felt the defects of his
early education. Uniler the strict scientific training
also to which he subjected himself, his remarkable
intellectual powers were developed, and directed
into their proper sphere. Lord Cochrane was to be-
come one of our greatest, because he was one of the
most scientific, of British admirals.

Tiie studies of his lordshii) at college were ended
with the termination of the short-lived ])eace of
Amiens, and the return of war restored him to active
employment. He applied for a ship, and the a<l-
miralty ap|iointed him to tlie command of the --/;vr/'.
But what was his astonishment to find that this
vessel was only an old collier patched up from the frag-
ments of sundry broken vessels, and useful for little
el.-,e than firewood, while, notwithstanding her name,
lier ])(nvers of sailing were even worse than those
of the Speedy. The duty also U]xjn whicli he was
ordered was commensurate with the qualities of the
AraO — for it was to watch the motions of the flotilla

THOMAS COCHRANE.

371

at Boulogne. O.t finding that his ship could only
drift with the wind and tide, and was useless for
such a service, his lorrLship remonstrated, and in re-
turn was sent by the admiralty to cruise in the North
Sea, for the jirotection of fisheries that had no exist-
ence. In this irritating fashion Lord Cochrane was
to be thrust aside, and condemned to inactivity, in
consequence of his independent spirit, and insulx)r-
dination to the ruling powers. Nearly fourteen
months did he endure this intolerable penance,
when, fortunately for him. Lord Melville, his country-
man, was placed at the head of the admiralty, and
Cochrane was transferred to the command of the
Pallas, a fine new frigate of 38 guns. To compen-
sate also for his exile in the North Sea, he was com-
missioned to cruise for a month off the Western Lsles,
where the chance of prizes was most abundant. His
short cniise more than justified the hopes that had
been formed of his success. On the way to his ap-
pointed station, he captured a valuable ship from
the Havannah to Cadiz, forming part of a convoy;
in a few hours after he made a still richer capture;
and two days after a third, more profitable than the
preceding two. On the succeeding day, he took a
letter of marque well stored with dollars. The arrival
of so many ricli prizes at Plymouth, captured in so
short a time, and by one vessel, set the whole town
astir; and this feeling of triumph was enhanced by
the arrival of the Pa/las herself, carrying as tropliies
upon her mast-heads three goklen candlesticks,
each of which was five feet high.

Having now won so much renown, and being fur-
nished with the sinews of political warfare, while
the country was on the eve of a general election.
Lord Cochrane resolved to enter parliament, where
he could obtain for his complaints on the abuses in
the atlministration of tlie navy an attentive hearing.
He selected Iloniton as the borough fur canvass,
and as bribery was the prevalent fashion of such
elections, his lordship felt no scniple in following
the usual course. But he was outbid by his opponent,
who in consequence was returned. Another election
for Honiton occurred soon afterwards, in which
Lord Cochrane was returned by a large majority,
the electors hoping to be richly rewarded with
Spanish gold for their suffrages; but his lordship,
who on this occasion had promised nothing, also
paid noticing. He had not long held his parlia-
mentary honours, when he was ordered out to sea,
;ind to convoy a fleet of slow-sailing merchant ships
to (Quebec; but on his return, he was appointed to
a more congenial service, which was to cruise off
the French coa>t. On this occasion he performed
one of those daring and successful exploits that
characterized his whole career. Having learned,
while off the Garonne, that several corvettes were
lying up the river, he resolved to capture or destroy
them; and ailliough the Garonne is the most diffi-
cult in navigation of all the rivers on tlie French
coast, this circumstance was only an additional in-
centive to liis ]iurpose. He sailed up the moutli
of tiie river, and having reached close to the Cor-
dovan ligluiiou>e, he anchored a little after dusk on
the evening of the 5th of April, 1S06, manned his
ship's boats so that only forty haiuls were left on
board the Pallas, and sent the ])oats u]i the river
under the command of I.ietUcnant IIals\\ell. Twenty
miles up the river they found the corvettes under tlie
protection of two batteries, and immediately attacked
the Tapa^^rusc: a corvette of fourteen long-pounders
and ninety-five men. wliich they cut out, and al-
though two other corvettes canie to its re-cue. Hals-
wcll beat them olT witli tlie guns of his capture.
\Viiile lie was thus succes^fl:!. the situation of Lurd

Cochrane had Vjccomc very critical: the French ha<l
taken the alarm, and three strongly armed corvettes
bore down upon the Pallas, when she liad scarcely
hands enough to work her. But Ixjrd Cochrane con-
cealed his weakness by meeting the enemy half-way;
and dismayed at finding that their enemy was a frigate,
they endeavoured to slieer off, and were successively
run on shore and destroyed by the Pallas. To add
to the pleasure of such signal success, these three
vessels, mounting in all sixty-four guns, were destroyed
without the Pallas losing a man, while only three of
her crew were wounded.

In the following month [.May] Lord Cochrane dis-
tinguished himself by a war against the semaphores
which had been erected upon the French coast, and
were so successful in giving warning of the aj)i)roach
of hostile vessels, that they had interfered with his
plans and operations. He therefore landed, and de-
stroyed several of these hostile indicators, notwith-
standing the troops that had been stationed to protect
them. But while thus occupied, he also attempted
an enterprise in which he was almost overpowered
by numbers. While cruising off the island of Aix,
he fell in with a French frigate, the Miucne, of 40
guns, attended by three brigs well armed; and as this
vessel was the guardship of the Aix Roads, and had
greatly annoyed the Flnglish, Lord Cochrane, not-
withstanding their great superiority in men and metal,
resolved to attack them. By a bold manceuvre he
ran his ship between the Mi)U>~c'e TmA. the shore, by
which the batteries on land were obliged to pause,
and had almost succeeded in boarding his opponent,
when two frigates arrived to its assistance, in conse-
quence of which his lordship was compelled to retire
from such an unequal fight. It was much, however,
that in such a daring attempt he had only one man
killed and five wounded, and that he extricated his
ship from the danger, even when it had become a com-
plete wreck. After this he was appointed to the
Iniperiaisc, a fine frigate of 40 guns ; and with
these enlarged means he became more formidable
than ever, so that in little more than three weeks,
he destroyed fifteen merchant shijis of the enemy,
and demoli>hed Fort Roquette at the entrance
of the basin of .-Vrcasson, with a great quantity of
military stores. This ln>t imptjrtant achievement
also was so well planned and conducted, that he diJ.
not lo^e a man.

Very soon after Lord Cochrane returned from this
short cruise, ])arliament was dissolved, and at the
new election he presented himself as a candidate for
Westminster, along with Sir Francis Burdelt. Both
were returned, and his lordship, with his wonted
zeal and boldness, jiroceeded to attack the prevalent
abuses in government. He had broui,hl forwan!
two motions, one on sinecures and the utlier on tlie
pernicious administration of the na^y, when tlie
alarmed ministry resolved to silence him, and thi-
they efiected by gnulgingly sendii^g him to se.i, where
he was certain to win fresh hoiunus and (iift;nctior..
The usurpations of Napolef)n 1. in Si'iiin. r.i.d tie
revolt of the Spaniards again>t his di ;ii;:ii.>n, i.;: :
converted thcni from eneniie-- ir.tn a.I:e- 't liie
British government, and Lord C"c!ir.i:ie nv.'s ciiin-
missioned to aid the same ] eojle .i^rd:i-t u horn he
had fought with such destn-.^ tne diet t. I le .-eee] ted
the change of this new ]Mil;t;e.d rel.r.; ';>:;;p, aiul lelt
his seat in parliament to cruise in ilie Me i.teiTar.tan.
His commis>it)n wa.> to liarr.- ti;e 1-iLr.Ji on ll;e
coasts of France and Sjiain. r.r.l iv.ver v.as an order
more completely iuUiile,!. \\\> -h;p. 'die Ir'!pei-:c:i:c.
seemed to be everywhere, an 1 everywlierc .-ucces.-!'.d
in deeds of increddile A:.x.v.^-. an<i ;he manner in
which he sweM ;he -eas < f tixir h^rtiie ^ran.raiu-

THOMAS COCHRANE.

maged every harbour in quest of an enemy, de-
molished batteries, signal posts and towers, and
crippled the advance of French armies into the
Peninsula, were important events among the achieve-
ments of this momentous war, and would of them-
selves require a volume. The importance of these
deeds performed by a single frigate, and their cfTect
in the Peninsular war, were thus characterized in the
despatch of the commander-in-chief: "Nothing can
exceed the activity and zeal with which his lordship
pursues the enemy. The success which attends his
enterprises clearly indicates with what skill and
ability they are conducted; besides keeping the coast
in constant alarm, causing a total suspension of
trade, and harassing a body of troops employed in
opposing them, he has probably prevented those
troops which were intended for Figueras from ad-
vancing into Spain, by giving them employment in
the defence of their own coasts." Of his services to
the Spanish cause on shore a single instance from
the many must suffice. Learning that Rosas was
besieged by the French, Lord Cochrane volunteered
for the defence of Fort Trinidad— an outwork on
which the safety of Rosas depended. The garrison of
the fort was already reduced to eighty Spaniards,
who were on the point of surrendering, when, on the
22d of September, l8o8, his lordship arrived with
eighty seamen and marines. The arrival of this
small reinforcement with such a leader changed the
scene. The resistance was continued; and when the
enemy attempted, on tlie 30th, with 1000 picked
soldiers, to take Fort Trinidad by storm, his lordship
with his small garrison routed his numerous assail-
ants, killed their leader, and destroyed their storm-
ing equipage. In this protracted siege, which lasted
twelve days, the personal valour of Lord Cochrane
was as conspicuous as Ids skilful leadership. There
was such a dash of chivalrous romance in it as
charmed the enthusiastic Spaniards, and reminded
them of the heroes of their ballads — their cids
and campeadors of the olden times. On one occa-
sion a shot struck the Spanish flag, so that it fell
into the ditch. Unwilling that such a trophy of the
place he defended should be carried off, and to
encourage tlie garrison in their resistance, he leaped
after it into the ditch amidst a shower of bullets,
brought it back in safety, and planted it again in its
place. Although Rosas could not be ultimately
preserved, it was much that the surrender had been
thus delayed; and when it yielded at last to a whole
besieging army. Lord Cochrane blew up the maga-
zines of the fort, and withdrew his followers in safely
to the /iiif-crieuse. And still the jirudence with
which this desi>erate deed of daring was conducted,
was shown in the smallness of the loss he sustained;
for during tlicse days of hard fighting against such
overwhelming numbers, he had only three men killed
and seven wounded.

Tliis ia^t circumstance may filly introduce some
explanation (;f the character of Lord Cochrane's
modes of warfare. From the mere aspect of his ex-
])loits, it migiit be supposed that he was at all times
ready to encounter any odds — that he rushed blindly
into battle, and was in all cases favoured by singular
good luck. But no conclusion can be mf)rc unjihilo-
sojjhical or more absurd. Never, ])erha])s, in a
belligerent brain was such fearless onward daring
coml)ine(l with such prudence and co(j1 calculation.
He niight plan such a deed as appeared toothers
not only desperate, but impossible; but he had con-
sidered it in all its bearings, and made a just estimate
of iiis means of success; and when he rushed into the
fight, he had jireviously calculated every movement
of the enemy to thwart him, and devised an exijcdient

by which every such movement could be defeated.
Nor did he entirely trust to mere abstract calcula-
tions, for previous to an engagement he had carefully
reconnoitred the enemy, spy-glass in hand; plummed
the soundings and bearings with the lead- line; and
passed whole nights under the enemy's batteries, to
observe everything with his own eye, and verify his
calculations. In an attack upon a ship or battery,
he was cautious, unless justified by circumstances, not
to let his boats go beyond the protection of his vessel;
when the v.ind was on shore, he moored a boat in
by a light Indian rope that floated on the water, so
that a communication was established with the ship;
and in the event of a reverse or check, his boats were
recalled by the ship's capstan, so that their crews had
only to attend to their weapons. Never, indeed, had
naval warfare been so reduced by any commander to
an exact science; and hence the secret of his wonder-
ful successes. With courage equal to that of Nelson,
with as much skill in the handling of ships, with a
mind still more fertile in resources, and with scienti-
fic means applicable to the purposes of naval warfare
that were unki.own to Nelson — what might have
been their respective histories had Cochrane in point
of time preceded the latter? But the hero of the
Nile and Trafalgar had terminated Ills' glorious career
when the other was only entering upon the scene,
and to Cochrane little else was left than the glean
ings of the harvest.

After a cruise of eighteen months, during which
the services of his lordship had been worth whole
fleets and armies, his chief wish was to be allowed
to take possession of the French islands in the Bay
of Biscay, and be placed in command of a squadron
of small cruisers, in which case he could have kept
the enemy in a state of constant alarm, and com-
])elled the French armies to stay at home for the
defence of their own coasts. But at present govern-
ment had other work for him to do. A large French
fleet under the command of Admiral Allemande was
anchored in the Basque Roads, between the island
of Aix and the Ruyant shoal, while Lord Gambier
closely blockaded it with a strong squadron of the
Channel fleet; but such was the strength of the French
shipping and the batteries by which they were de-
fended, as well as the security of their position and
the difficulty of approaching them, that they reposed
without fear of interruption. This was a standing
bravado which our country would not tolerate, and
as the hostile fleet could not be allured out into the
open sea, it was resolved by the British admiralty
to assail it in its place of safety at whatever cost or
hazard. But to whom should such a difficult com-
mission be intrusted? Lord Cochrane appeared to
them the only competent man for such a deed; and
on being recalled from his cruise, he laid before them
a plan characterized by boldness, calculation, and
scientific knowledge, of which they heartily apjn-oved,
so that, passing over the usual routine of service,
they commissioned him, notwithstanding his inferior-
ity in age and naval rank, to carry it into execution.
It was a confession of their helplessness, and a testi-
mony in their hour of need to the superior worth of
an officer whose services they had hitherto depre-
ciated. As his projiosal was to destroy the P'rench
fleet by fireships, a sufficient number of these were
granted to him, with bomb-ships and rocket-vessels,
and thus jirovided, he joined the blockading squadron
of Lord Gambier. On the night of the i ith of April,
1809, all being in readiness. Lord Cochrane set out
on his terrible expedition with his fleet of fire-ships,
bombs, and explosion-vessels, commanded l)y officers
wh(j had volunteered for the service. As the chief
ii<;pe was in the explosion-ships, a description of cme

THOMAS COCHRANE.

573

of these, which Lord Cochrane himself had charged,
gives a frightful idea of the storm that was soon to
rouse the French fleet from its security. It was stored
with the contents of 1500 barrels of gunpowder started
into puncheons, which were placed with their ends
uppermost; upon these were laid three or four hun-
dred shells charged with fuses, and between them
were nearly three thousand hand-grenades. The
puncheons were fastened to each other by cables
wound round them, and jammed together with
wedges; and moistened sand was rammed down
between them, to make the whole mass compact and
solid from stem to stern. In one of the three vessels
armed in this manner, Lord Cochrane, with a lieu-
tenant and four seamen, advanced to the attack at
eight o'clock at night. The result of this strange
encounter is so well known that only a few particu-
lars need to be mentioned. Lord Cochrane in the
ship he commanded ran against the boom that de-
fended the narrow passage, and dashed it to pieces;
the fireships rushed through the opening, and closed
with the French fleet; the explosion- vessels were
fired with such deadly determination, that even their
own crews were almost involved in the fate they
brought to others, and the enemy's ships, cutting
their cables, and flying hither and thither in wild
confusion, were wrecked upon sand-banks or blown
into the air. When the light of the morning dawned
upon this midnight havoc, seven sail of the French
line were seen lying on the shore, and all were in a
mood to surrender, so that nothing was needed but
the advance of the blockading squadron to make the
victory complete. This was so evident that Coch-
rane, amidst the fire of the engagement, threw out
signal after signal, and Lord Gambier accordingly
weighed anchor; but when he was within three miles
of Aix, he stopped short, called a council of war,
and judged it inexpedient to proceed any farther.
How this cold delay acted on the ardent spirit of
Lord Cochrane, more especially when he saw the
tide rise, and the stranded ships floated off without
liis having the means to capture them, may be easily
imagined. But even as it was, much had been
effected. Out of a powerful French fleet, consisting
of ten sail of the line, a fifty-gun ship, and four
frigates, defended by strong batteries on the island of
Aix, and by a dangerous shoal and a boom, three
ships of the line and a fifty-six were burned, a seventy-
four in consequence of this attack was lost a few
days after, and the other ships that had stranded,
but escaped, were so damaged, that for a long time
afterwards they continued unfit for service. Enough
had been done by Lord Coclirane to show what
might have been acliieved had he been properly
seconded. Amidst this wild midnight work, in
which men miglit seem to be transformed into
demons, it is {^leasing to detect some redeeming
traits of humanity, and such were not wholly wanting.
They were also displayed by Lord Cochrane himself.
In the heat of the engagement, when a French ship,
the ViirsoT'ii', was set on fire, and its crew removed
by the assailants for safety, a dog was left alone, and
ran howling abiut the deck; upon which his lordsliip
leaped on b lard at the risk of being blown into the
air, and carried oil the poor creature in his arms.
On the captain of one of the captured ships lament-
ing to him that all he had in the world would be
lost in the conflagration, Lord Cochrane got out his
boat, and pushed off to the ship; but, in ]ia^sing one
of the burning vessels, its guns went off, by one of
which the captain was killed, and the l)oat all but
sent to the bottom. If tlie smallncss of the loss in
human life which his boldest enterprises cost is also
to be accepted as a jiroof of humane consideratcness,

this terrible exploit in the Roads of Aix will fully
stand the test, for of the conquerors, only ten men
were killed, thirty-seven wounded, and one missing.

For this signal success, the wliole merit of which
was due to Lord Cochrane, his majesty conferred
upon him the order of Knight of the iJath, and a
motion was made in parliament for a vote of thanks
to Lord Gambier, Lord Cochrane, and the officers
and seamen. But here our hero refused to 1)C in-
cluded, and opposed the vote. He was still so in-
dignant at Lord Gambier, and so loud in his com-
plaints of his over-cautious pn;ceedings, that the
latter was obliged to demand a court-martial, by
which he was acquitted. Of this trial and acquittal,
the proceedings, according to Lord Cochrane in his
autobiography, were so unfair and one-sided, that
it is painful to peruse the account, and to the close
of his days he never ceased to characterize them as
a climax of iniquity and injustice. In 1S12 his lord-
ship married, and the circumstances of this union
partook of the romance of his character. 1 lis uncle,
Basil Cochrane, who had acquired a large fortune
in India, and designed to make his nejihew his heir,
was also urgent that he should marr\' a certain young
lady, whose great dovvr)' would raise the empty earl-
dom of which he would be the occupant to its former
wealth and grandeur; but Lord Cochrane, disregard-
ing such sordid calculations, espoused a lady who
had no fortune whatever except an amiable character,
and a mind congenial to his own. The usual result
of such disobedience followed: the uncle disinherited
his nephew, and left him to shift for himself.

We now come to the most painful incident of
Lord Cochrane's career. During the cessation of
professional service after his exploit in the Aix
Roads, his active spirit turned to politics, in the in-
trigues of which he was unfitted to shine, and to
speculations on the stock exchange, in which he was
still more incompetent, and by wliich he was a con-
siderable loser. On the 20th of February, 1S14,
one of those daring frauds was committed by which
a temporary rise in the value of stock is effected in
the market. At the midnight of that day a person
calling himself Colonel de Bourg, aide-de-camp to
Lord Cathcart, appeared at the .'^hip Hotel, Dover,
with the information that Bonaparte had been killed.
that the allies were in triumphant march for Paris,
and that instant peace might be expected — aft-.r
which he drove to London, and repaired to the
house of Lord Cochrane. His lying report was
spread abroad, a rapid rise in the funds was the con-
sequence, and when a reaction followed, a strict
search for the impostor ensued, who was found uncicr
his real name of Dc Berenger. His visit also to Lord
Cochrane was discovered, who was si:;^p.oscd to l-e
implicated in the fraud. His uncle, Sir Alexander
Cochrane, having been a[)pointcd to t!;e Nortl-.
American station, had selected his nephew fr l;i-
flag-captain, and his lordship was abeiut to sr.il in
the flag-ship, the Venitaitt, but on hcariuL: tlie : ;;iii< r.r
he instantly hastened from Chatham to I.i':'ii'ii.
and gave a full statement of tb.c su--piei"r.i i: •,er\ it v.,
and his connection with tlie wretehei! I >e I'.t :er.j;er.
The latter, it ap]X'arc(l, had called r.p' :i !.::'.i n> a
stranger, had told him a piteoi:s ir.'.e i>! >, -'le--. ar. 1
had t)orrowed from l-.ini a liat and e'..'. j ieter.'!;iig
that he was a j^risoner (il the (J;:et,;. - I'.v.J;. ar.i
could not return to his 1 -il^itrj- ;:; I; - i :e-e;it c(-
tumc. But although every ii.ei'iL:' e^ :,:-.eete'i w ;;!:
De Bcrcnger's vi.-it v.a- :,ra;u)ii 'i>.} <:'.•■ i t-v.'i <.\-
plained, the affidavit wa-oi im ava.I. a;.! !> 1'!''.-
shi|")'s connection witli tl.e st( ek-, a:;! ti'.teri-t ;n
their rise, were alh^wed to | rep. •.■.i:e:a'e. It v.n,
remembered aKy that en the \r.\\ el" I-elrurry ].-

374

THOMAS COCHRAXE.

had purchased /'i39,ooo of Omnium on a time-
bargain, and had sold it at a profit on the 2 1st, when
the imposture was jirevalent. A trial of the parties
charged with the fraud, Lord Cochrane being among
the number, was held in the court of Queen's Bench
before Lord EUenborough, and the political offences
of the popular hero of radicalism were such, as with
or without evidence would have insured his condem-
nation. He had exposed the abuses of the admiralty,
and the whole board was arrayed against liim. lie
had been appointed, notwithstanding his youth and
inferior rank, to contluct the expedition of the Basque
Roads, and older commanders were indignant at the
preference, and regarded him as their enemy. And
above all, he was a keen reformer, whose uncom-
promising opposition to the powers that be, and ex-
posure of their errors and iniquities, had kindled
the resentment of government, and made it their
interest to find him guilty. With such a weight of
opposition it mattered not though the evidence
brought against him was equivocal, weak, and un-
satisfactory, and tiiat a most respectable minority
were dissatisfied with the trial, and persisted in hold-
ing him innocent. He was pronounced guilty, and
sentenced to pay a fine of ^^looo; to be imprisoned
twelve months in the Marshalsea; and to stand one
hour in the pillory in front of the Royal Exchange,
along with De Berengerand another of the convicted
conspirators. But this last shameful part of the sen-
tence was not executed — for it might have brought
a worse than Spithead or Sheerness mutiny into the
heart of London itself. He was also dismissed from
the navy, expelled from the House of Commons,
and degraded from the knighthood of the ]3ath,
his banner being thrown down, and kicked out of
the chapel by the king-at-arms, according to the
ancient prescribed form. Notwithstanding this load
of indignity his constituents of Westminster con-
tinued to ])roclaim liim guiltless, and when a new
election took place on the i6th of July, 1814, he
was again, though a prisoner, chosen to represent
the city. This was enough to rouse him into action:
maddened by the wrongs endured from his enemies,
and encouragefl I)y this honourable approval, he
scaled the walls of his prison, entered the astonished
House of Commons, and took his seat among the
members. For this outbreak he was remanded to
the -Marshalsea, and visited with a fresh fine.

After his term of durance had expired. Lord Coch-
rane found little or no benefit l>y the recovery of his
jjersonal liberty. He was still indeed, as before,
])roclaimed guiltless by the reflecting and judicious
few; his friends still clung to him, and the sailors
worship[)e(l him as the ht'au ideal of a commander
and a liero. But still he felt the l)rand inflicted by
government to be ineffaceal)le, and that, however he
might remonstrate, neither his com])laints nor his
justification could obtain a hearing. He felt that he
had no longer a country and a home, and for all the
jiurposcs of life might as well l)e elsewhere. .Some-
thing however he must <lo, f)rsueli a s])irit could not
remain at rest; and in nSiS an opportunity for action
occurred. The .Spanish ])rovinces of .South America
were throwing off tlie yoke of the mother country,
which had become too o|ipressive to be borne; the
republic of Chili offered liim the command of its
naval force; and as the cause was that of liberty, of
whicli he was so enthusiastic an advocate, he chjsed
witli the offer, and repaired with his wife and family
to Valparaiso. t)n arriving he found the office to
which he was invited so ho]5eless that any other com-
mander would have despaired. The .S])anish fleet,
which was large and powerful, held jjossession of the
sen, and in the j)rineipal cities the authority of the

viceroys Ma^ still supreme; while the whole naval
force of the insurgents consisted of only three frigates
and a few slooj^s of war manned by heterogeneous
crews, half of whom had never been trained to the
sea, while all were etjually in a state of insubordina-
tion. None but a master intellect of the highest
power could have reduced such elements to order,
and made them fit for great achievements; and these
were ])recisely the difficulties which his lordship had
been accustomed to overcome. His exploits more
than justified the high expectations of the insurgents;
for no sooner was it known that he was admiral of
the Chilian fleet than the Spanish ships of war hurried
behind the shelter of their fortresses, and left the sea
open to their lately despised enemies. Having thus
found the coast of Chili free from the enemy. Lord
Cochrane carried the war to the coast of Peru, and
soon signalized it by the capture of Valdivia. This
was a sea-fortress of such strength that a powerful
fleet would have been required for an attack upon it
according to the usual operations; but his lordship,
who calculated upon secresy and a sudden blow for
success, resolved to attack it with nothing but his
flagship, a frigate of 50 guns, and three small vessels
carrying 250 land troops. He approached the har-
bour under .Spanish colours, and as a ship was ex-
pected from Cadiz, a boat pushed out from the
harbour with pilots, who, on stepping on board the
flagship, were made prisoners. Availing himself
of the information they gave, the flagship and small
vessels advanced towards the harbour; but the
Spaniards, alarmed at these suspicious movements,
opened a heavy fire, and the battle commenced in
earnest. But one fort after another was taken by
the assailants, while the defenders, confounded by the
boldness of the attack, which was made at once both
from east and west, offered a confused and feeble
resistance. In this manner all the forts were captured
before daybreak, and, to add to the success of this
exploit, the .Spanish governor of Valdivia, terrified at
such a sudden capture, collected his troops and what-
ever valuables he could transport, and sought safety
in flight. Thus Lord Cochrane found himself master
of fifteen forts, the city of Valdivia, large magazines,
and many cannon, with a numerous population;
while to rule, retain, and manage such a conquest, he
had only a few hundred soldiers and sailors, the last
of whom were neetlcd for the ships. And who could
tell how long the panic of the governor would last,
or how soon he might return with such a force as
would suffice to overpower the captors? Lord Coch-
rane resolved to trust to the terrors of his name anil
the additional dread which this capture had ins])ired:
he therefore left tlic ]ilace as it stood, and with its
stores untouched, confident that none would reoccupy
Valdivia from the fear of a second and more terrible
return. His confidence was justified, for the Spaniards
held aloof; and this city, the chief military Spanish
depot of the province, became the property of the
insurgent government.

E<]ually daring v/ith this remark.able deed was that
which his lordship jjerformed at Callao, the port of
Lima. It had been resolved that Callao should only
be blockaded, as its defences were such that its cap-
ture by direct attack was judged imjiossible. Its
harbour was defended at every |ioint by 300 jiieci s
of cannon; the garrison was composed of tried s<j1-
diers and skilful artillery-men; and under the gunsand
within the fort the Spanish frigate Esnuralda, of 40
guns, lay moored, having on board a numerous crew
of seamen and marines, who kejit carefid watch night
and day. These defences of tiie Jisincratda had also
in addition a strong boom with chain moorings,
armed Ijlocksliips, and a guard of twenty-seven gun-

THOMAS COCHRANE.

375

boats. But a dull blockade did not suit the ardent
genius of Lord Cochrane, and he resolved, in spite of
its formidable advantages, to attack and carry this
frigate. IJesides the glory of such an enterprise, it
would be a death-blow to the Spanish cause in
South America. P'rom his three frigates he selected
i6o seamen and 80 marines; these, after dark, were
placed in fourteen boats alongside of his flag-ship,
each man armed with a cutlass and pistol, and dressed
in white, with a blue band on the left arm. What
followed will be bjst given in his lordship's own
account. "At ten o'clock all was in readiness, the
boats being formed in two divisions, the first
commanded by my flag-captain Crosbie, and the
second by Captain (niise, my boat leading. The
strictest silence and the exclusive use of cutlasses
were enjoined, so that, as the oars were mufiled and
the night dark, the enemy liad not the least suspicion
of the intended attack. It was just upon midnight
when we neared the small opening left in the boom,
our plan being well-nigh frustrated by the vigilance
of a guard-boat, upon which my launch had unluckily
stumbled. The challenge was given, upon which, in
an undertone, I threatened the occupants of the boat
with instant death if they made the least alarm. No
reply was made to the threat, and in a few minutes
our gallant fellows were alongside the frigate in line,
boarding at several points simultaneously. The
.Spaniards were completely taken by surprise, the
whole, with the exception of the sentries, being
asleep at their quarters; and great was the havoc
made among them by the Chileni cutlasses whilst
they were recovering themselves. Retreating to the
forecastle, they there made a gallant stand, and it was
not until the third charge that the position was carried.
The fight was for a short time renewed on the fpiarter-
deck, where the Spanish marines fell to a man, the
rest of the enemy leaping overboard and into the
luld to escape slaughter. On boarding the sliip by
the main-chains I was knocked back by the butt-enti
of the sentry's musket, and falling on a thole-pin of
the boat, it entered my back near the spine, inflicting
a severe injury, which caused me many years of sub-
secpient suffering. Immediately regaining my footing,
I reascended the side, and when on deck, was shot
through the thigh; but binding a handkerchief tiglitly
round the wound, managed, tliough with great dith-
culty, to direct the contest to its close. Tlie whole
affair from beginning to end occupied only a quarter
of an hour, our loss being eleven killed and thirty
wounded, while that of the Spaniards was 160, many
of whom fell under the cutlasses of the Cliilenos before
they could stand to their arms." In this manner, by
a wonderful combination of skill and daring, the Es-
meralda was boarded and won. The clanger, how-
ever, was not yet over: alarmed by the tokens of a
struggle in the harbour, the garrison opened its guns
upon the Esmeralda, and as they were accurately
]iointetl, they kimcked down friend and enemy alike
on board, and might have soon recovered the prize had
it not been f)r an exiiedient of Cochrane. Nigh the
vessel were lying an ICnglish and an .Vmerican frigate,
wliich, being neutral, hoisted their distinctive lights to
avert the fire of the garrison from themselves; l)ut his
lordship, who had foreseen tliis, also hoisted the same
lights, so tliat the S]ianiards, unaljle to distinguish
between friends and foes, withheM their fire. There
also lay in tlie port a Spanish sloop of war and many
merchant vessels, one of which had a million of
dollars on b..)ard; and it was part of his loniship's
design to board shi[> after sliip, and make himself
master of the whole, liut the Kngli.--h and American
frigates having cut their cables and drifted out of the
fire, the captors of the Esmeralda followed their ex-

ample, although contrary to Lord Cochrane's orders;
and thus the rich booty which would have rewarded
such a victory escaped from their grasp. Hut such an
exploit as the capture of the Esmeralda was enough
for fame, and while the world rang with the report of
the deed, the Hritish seamen everywhere exulted ii'
the success of their favourite hero, and expressed
their indignation at his dismissal from the national
service.

While by a series of such actions Lord Cochrane
was establishing the emancipation of Chili and Peru,
his position was by no means comfortable. The
chiefs of the revolt were indignant that a foreign
leader should thus eclipse them; and while they
boasted of their own counsels and arrangements as
the source of these achievements, they rajiaciously
seized the spoil of every naval victor)', and alienated
it to the land-service and the operations in which
themselves were personally concerned. Thus, witii
no prize-money and scantily paid wages, the seamen
became indignant, and it was natural that their
leader should sympathize in their complaints. At
last they got no pay whatever, and broke out into
open mutiny; while, to quell it, the Chilian dictator
could devise no better expedient than that of selling
the fleet itself by which their best successes had been
effected. This brought matters to their crisis ; and
while an immense amount of public and private
treasure was about to be removed by order of the
dictator to the port of Ancon, the fleet, with the
consent of their admiral, arrested the money as an
indemnity for their past services. Lord Cochrane's
distribution of the spoil thus obtained was both just
and generous. What was private property he re-
stored to the owners; what had been appropriated for
the public debts he also allowed to pass; and from
the surplus he paid every seaman a year's arrear of
pay, but kept nothing for himself. And this although
he was an actual loser to the amount of ^^25,000 by
his interjiosition in behalf of these liberated states !
San Martin, Bolivar, and the other chiefs of the
colonial revolt, were indignant at this summary
proceeding; and as the Spanish dominion was utterly
broken in .South America, they were impatient to be
left to themselves, that they might enjoy their new
freedom after their own fashion. And in what de-
plorable way they used it and enjoyed it, history has
recorded ! Meanwhile the position of Lord Coch-
rane among such proceedings was every day becom-
ing more painful, when he was relieved by what he
justly calls a "fortunate accident." The important
colony of Brazil, animated by the successful example
of the .S]iani^h colonies of South America, had re-
solved to free itself from the dominion of Portugal,
and sent to him an accredited agent inviting liim
to take the command of the Brazilian navy. He
assented, and in March, 1S22, arrived at Rio d.-j
Janeiro, and assumed his new command.

As it was not in his lord>hi])"s nature to lie ii'l.-,
he set himself to organize such a fleet as niigl.i ci.al<I .•
tlie Brazilians to contend with the Portuguese on .1:;
element in which the latter were the stronger ; and
when all was judged fit for the ]Hirpo>c. he re>oived
to commence operations at Bahia. the ancient c.-.i^tal
of Brazil. This imjiortant tity \\:A been ]'I,iceii
under such a strict blockade by'tlie tr ()p> of D.ni
Pedro, that the authorities had ie~.'I\e i to with iraw
all the soldiers and the givater ]'.iit ot" tr.e ir.hr.bu-
ants to Maranham, where they nii.;;:! etlectr..illy
have held the whole Biv..-;:i.in ] ower- at deli.uiee.
With this design its niagn;t!eent Y'<\\ w.^-^ alive with
a fleet which the eye c i:M .-careely number. Nu-
merous armed tran>purt- eonlaining the tro..]^^. and
from ^ixty to sever.ty inerJuuU vessel.-, \s\:\\ I'ortu-

376

THOMAS COCHRANE.

guese families and their furniture on board, were to
be safely escorted to their destination by a 74-gun
ship, one of 50 guns, a frigate of 44 guns, and nine
smaller frigates of from 20 to 26 guns — in all a
squadron of twelve ships of war. This important
transference of a capital and its resources to a locality
where their resistance might be more ibrmidable,
his lordship was resolved to interrupt, although for
the purpose he had only a 74-gun ship, and a frigate
of 32 light guns — the former called the Pedro Privi-
eiro, and the latter the Maria da Gloria. On the
2d of July the Bahian squadron got under weigh;
but no sooner had stood out to sea than his lordship
was in chase of them. He ran aboard of their hind-
most vessels, and so effectually damaged their masts
and rigging, as compelled them to scud before the
wind back to Bahia. He then dashed into the
midst of the convoy, capturing ships to right and left;
and three small frigates having come up and joined
him in the chase, the whole Portuguese armament
was scattered in everj' direction, and its ships com-
pelled to strike at the first summons. Yox three
days tliis desperate pursuit continued, and with sucli
effect that the ships conveying the soldiers were
boarded, their masts and rigging destroyed, and
their captains bound by oath to carry their vessels
into an insurgent port. While their convoy was
thus scattered, the armed ships kept together, and
presented too formidable a front to be attacked; but
Lord Cochrane having now put the military force
hors-de-combat, resolved to proceed at once to Mar-
anham ; knowing that once there the terror of his
name would compel the enemy to keep aloof, and
preclude all attempts to relieve the place by sea.
He accordingly steered direct to Maranham, and no
sooner had neared the harbour tlian a brig of war
came out to welcome his ship, as the first arrival
and precursor of the whole Portuguese squadron.
Greatly, however, were they astounded, when on
stepping on board they found themselves prisoners,
and in the presence of the dreaded Lord Cochrane.
He told them that the Portuguese fleet and army
had been destroyed; that his flag-ship was only part
of the whole Brazilian fleet, which would straight-
way enter their port ; that it carried an invading
force sufficient to compel submission; and under the
terror of these representations the captain of the brig
was easily induced to carry a message to the governor
on shore representing the uselessness of resistance,
and advising him to surrender. The authorities of
Maranham were quelled by the captain's tidings and
liis message, and would have surrendered upon con-
ditions; but a.s sucli half-measures did not suit his
lordsliip, he moved his flag-ship abreast of tlie fort as
if in readiness to commence a bombardment. This
display was enough; the junta and l)ishop of Maran-
ham came on board, surrendered unconditionally
their city, f )rts, anrl island, and suljscriljcd their ad-
hesion to the emjiire and Don Pedro. Tliis decisive
blow, and by a single ship, settled the fate of the
war. Bahia had already fallen, the im])orlant ])ro-
vincc of Maranham had yielcled, and the Portuguese
ships, despairing of resistance witii Lord Cochrane
opposed to them, had abandoned the American seas
aad returned home. The vast im])ortance of this
singular deed of daring was so justly ajipreciatcd by
the emperor that he conferred upon his lordship the
title of .Marquis of ALiranham, anfl awarded to him
a large estate which was to be selected from the
national domains.

With the estal)]ishrnent of the Ilrazilian empire,
it might have been thought that our hero would
have l)een allowed to repose under his laurels, and
enjoy the fruits of his victories in peace. But

irresistible though he was on sea, Lord Cochrane
was always unfortunate on shore, and every success
was only a prelude to some disappointment or dis-
aster at the hands of formal or intriguing politicians,
whose modes of warfare he could not understand,
and by whose stratagems he was baffled. Such it
had been in his connection with Chili and Peru, and
now the same lesson was to be repeated at Brazil.
The division of the spoil among the victors, the share
of the booty and prize-money to which the fleet was
entitled, and the tendency of the government to
appropriate the lion's share, without having per-
formed the lion's part in running down the game,
were again the sul)jects of controversy and quarrel;
and after scenes of brawling which were in strange
contrast with the heroic achievements out of which
they sprung, Lord Cochrane sickened in such an
ignoble element ; and, in common phrase, resolved
"to cut the concern." There was nothing in the
shape of personal interest or possession to detain
him at Brazil; for his title of Marquis of Maran-
ham was merely nominal, the government having
refused to confer upon him the estate which the
emperor had awarded. He accordingly departed
without even the ceremony of leave-taking, and
the mode of his departure was sufficient to puzzle
both friend and enemy. Resolved, as he tells us,
to take a short cruise for health to a more bracing
latitude, he shifted his flag from the Pcdj-o Primeiro
to the frigate Piranza, and sailed northward; but
after he had cruised far enough for such a pur-
pose, he found his rigging in such a damaged
state, and his provisions so short, that it was impos-
sible to return to Rio de Janeiro. To Europe,
therefore, he must go; and as a Portuguese port was
dangerous, as being that of an enemy, and a Spanish
port doubtful, he bore for Portsmouth, although the
foreign enlistment act had condemned his late
proceedings, and anchored at Spithead. As soon
as this strange escapade was known at Brazil,
the frigate was reclaimed, and himself ordered to
return to Rio, to give an account of his proceedings;
and on his refusal, he was tried during his absence
as a deserter, and sentenced to the forfeiture of his
arrears of pay and prize-money, and whatever con-
tingent rewards he might have expected for his
services. Twenty years afterwards, in consequence
of his continued solicitations, the Brazilian court
conducted a fresh inquiry into the case, and with a
result that w^as honourable to his lordship ; for his
title of Marquis of Maranham was recognized, and
the pension awarded him which had been originally
stipulated.

On returning to England, Lord Cochrane, not-
withstanding the renown he had won in .South
America, could obtain no mitigation of the sentence
whose severity had driven him from service in his
own countr}'; and still as devoted to the cause of
freedom as ever, and impatient of inaction, he turned
his attention to Greece, that lanfl of heroic remem-
brances, which liad now risen from the oppression
of ages, and was contending for liberty, although at
a fearful disadvantage, against both Turks and Egy]5-
tians. Its appeal to his sympathies was not in vain,
and on his repairing to the seat of war, he jirevailcd
upon its factious and divided leaders to establish a
regular government, M'ith Count Ca]io d'Islria for
its president. General Church, an linglisli officer,
was also a])]iointed commander of its land forces;
and his lordsliip commander-in-chief of the Greek
fleet. Athens was already invested by the enemy ;
the first effort of Church and Cochrane was to raise
the siege; and by their joint efforts 10,000 Greek
soldiers were assembled under the walls of tlic city.

THOMAS COCHRANK.

But it was found impossible to combine such dis-
cordant and undisciplined troops for united action,
and an attempt which was made by the Greeks to
relieve Athens by surprise ended in complete failure.
Two days after, the attempt was to be relocated in a
more orderly and promisinjj form ; but the Greeks,
who had miscalculated the time necessary for embark-
ing and rclanding, were themselves surprised by the
enemy, and charged with such vigour by large bodies
of cavalry, that they were soon put to the rout. Lord
Cochrane himself was obliged to throw himself into
the sea, and swim to one of his vessels which were
lying at anchor along the coast. Greece had no
longer an army; and when he endeavoured to rouse
the fleet to a renewal of hostilities, he found his
authority as admiral so little regarded, that while
some of the captains took time to deliberate, others,
who were owners of the vessels they commanded,
weighed anchor, and went off upon enterprises of
their own. Thus ended his Greek campaign of 1827,
his last attempt of battle, as well as the only one
in which he had failed ; and thus melted away that
fata morga/ia of Grecian liberty upon which the eyes
of so many nations had been turned with hope. It
was neither by romantic bravery nor deeds of arms
that Greece was to be recalled from her long sleep
of death and replaced among living nations, but by
intimidation and political negotiation ; and in the
following year Turkey was compelled to listen to the
remonstrances of the great European powers, and
restore Greece to her ancient national independence.
On returning from this Cjreck expedition, with
hopes disappointed, and a spirit embittered by un-
wonted failure, Lord Cochrane resumed the task he
so seldom intermitted of vindicating his character
from the effects of the De Berenger trial. But his
enemies were still in office, and as they stood com-
mitted to their former award, his indignant a])pea!s
for justice were disregarded. Thus matters continued,
until the death of George I\". and tlie sMCcession of
William IV. produced an entire change in the poli-
tical horizon. As a sailor and a Whig, the new
sovereign admired the naval achievements of his
lordship, and sympathized in his wrongs; the party
with which Lord Cochrane was identified, and by
whom his innocence had been maintained, had suc-
ceeded to place and power; and the natural conse-
([uence of this change was, that his lordship was re-
stored to his rank in the navy, an act of justice which
was welcomed by the whole nation. But still, much
more should have been done which was left undone,
and his impassioned complaints were continued. To
grant a second trial, by which the innocence of the
condemned might be established, and the penalties
of his sentence reversed, was contrary to the usage
of Lnglish law, and his lordsiiip's restoration to his
naval rank was merely an act of royal clemencv, by
which his offence was forgiven, rather than deciarcd
a nonentity. In addition to this imperfect acquittal,
his arrears of pay and restoration to rank as a
knight of the Bath were still withheld. It was
therefore in ni) mere spirit of discontent that he con-
tinued to feel hiniselt a deeply injured man, and de-
mand a full redros. This indeed came at last, Imt
tardily enough. In 1S41 he was ])rnmoied to the
rank of vice-adniiiMl nf tlic li!iie. In 1S44 he re-
ceived a good->ervicc pensi'>n Uiv services ]"ierfornied
up to the peridd of hi^ trial. In 1S47 he was re-
placed in his rank as a Ktiight (iran<l Cross uf the
Bath; although, by some strange inconsistency, his
banner was not re>t<i:'ed to its place in the chanel of
Henry VII., and was not indeed set up uirul ti;e
d.ay before his fnn.esal. In 1S4S he was aiTjiointed
admiral in comniand of t!;e .Xorth .\;;'.':rican and

West India station. Previous to these reluctant
driblets of atonement, he had in 183 1, in conse-
quence of the death of his father, become tarl of
Dundonald.

As the peace under which Kurope still continued
afforded no <j|>portunity for active ser\ice, his lord-
ship employed his declining years in those scientific
studies to which, like his father, he was enthusi-
astically ad(licte(l, and which he had never failed
to resume with every interval of leisure. 1 1 is in-
vestigations, however, were chiefly connected with
his profession, and of a substantial and practical
character. He was especially aware of the great
revolution that would take place in naval warfare by
the use of steam, and was among the earliest who
tried experiments in reference to the constniction of
steam-ships of war, having constructed for this pur-
pose a vessel called the yuuiis, of extraordinary
power and dimensions. Thus he remained chiefly
secluded in his study until the Russian war, w hen its
difllculties called him forth. One of the fruits of his
early studies was the fabrication of a tremendous
apparatus which would insure the destruction of
armies and fortresses ; and this he suggested to
George I\'., then prince regent, soon after his
arrival from the exploit in the Basque Roads. A
committee was appointed to examine and report,
who found the scheme so terrible that they shrank
from it in dismay; and Lord Cochrane, who would
only use it in defence of his own country, kept his plan
a profound secret. In 1846, when a war with France
seemed imminent, he again brought forward his pro-
posal, which was once more submitted to a commis-
sion of three most eminent engineers; but they too
were so appalled by its fearfully destructive character,
that they reported it as not in "accord with the
feelings and principles of civilized warfare." He
now came forward a third time with his plan, which
was to annihilate the resistance of Cronstadt or Se-
bastopol; and when it was pronounced inexpedient,
he offered, old as he was, to go against either of
these forts, and superintend its destruction in person.
But still he kept the secret locked within his own
breast, and it was buried with him in his grave.
And what was this mysterious destractive ]3ower?
Curiosity was tantalized with the question, and
theory after theory was given in reply. Sotne
thought it must be some puwerful agency, the force
of which no ramparts constructed by human hands
could resist. Others thought it must be some shell,
or explosive instrument, the bursting of which would
so poison the surrouniling atmosphere, that ever>-
living thing within its range would expire. As no
certainty could be obtained, it formed a boundless
fieW for fancy and conjecture.

Besides these studies Lord C..ciirane, during liis
long and varied career. ].idjlis!ied many %\urks o!
scientific and professional interest; but the nn>st
pojuilar of his writings were Ids .-lu/o/'Uxra/'/r.' i]f ^ <:
Scanian, being a history of his own lile r.:.lil t:;e
termination of his trial, and Ids .\^.';7-<7/.'::- <;/ .^:7r.<r,
in the Liberation of CJiii:, Pcrti. t:::.i /y'r.!::.' : works
which he published afier h.is re--"iv.tiu:i to ::..vai
rank, a;;! bv which he limped ti:;".' I:-- i...:-t:'i"i>
deeds would be known. aTid lii~ f.-,ir f.in.e v.-.; ■.Ka:'..!,
after he had passed away iVu-.n t';e ut :' :. 1
occurred at Kensington. 0:1 t'.e ;o'.'; < :
iSoo. at the ripe age < f e;.;l::y-; ■::■: y,-.:-,
remains were interred in \\ e-":r.::-.-".c:' A:-
the centre of the nave. tiiJ i I.i.e re-eyye
most illustri >u- '>r r.i:;a::. : v. 'ii'.e thewii. ■
bewailed his departure. 1 le wa-^-;r-. :v-j
v.idow, an<l by for.r s'i:is nml a li.w.^i.-.-T,
1 etuate an o:'icr'.\';-e i;;;" LT>:;aMe nieinu

er.

!7S

MRS. ALICE COCKBURN.

which the obloquy that obscured it is yearly passing
away.

COCKBURN, Mrs. Alice. This accomplished
lady, who, like Lady Anne Barnard, immortalized
herself by the production of a single song, was a
daughter of Robert Rutherford, of Fairnalee, in Sel-
kirkshire. The year of her birth is uncertain, but
it appears to have been about 1 710 or 1712. In her
youth she must have been distinguished by her
beauty, as a certain Mr. F"airl)airn, who tauglit
French in Edinburgh, mentions her by her maiden
name of Alice Rutherford, with nineteen other
ladies, in his work entitled V Eloge d'' Ecosse, as the
most charming belles of the Scottish ca])ital. Ilcr
jioetical powers appear to have been recognized at
an early period, and the production of her beautiful
song, Pve seen the Smiliitg of Fortune Beguiling,
originated, we are told, in the following incident.
A gentleman of lier acquaintance, in passing tiirough
a sequestered ])ut romantic glen, observed a shepherd
at some distance tending his flocks, and amusing
himself at intervals by playing on a flute. The scene
altogether was very interesting, and being passion-
ately fond of music, he drew nearer tlie spot, and
listened for some time unobserved to the attractive
but artless strains of the young shepherd. One of
the airs in particular appeared so exquisitely wild
and pathetic, tliat he could no longer refrain from
discovering himself, in order to obtain some infor-
mation respecting it from the rural performer. On
inquiry, he learned that it was the Flozvcrs of the
Forest. This intelligence exciting his curiosity, he
was determined, if possible, to obtain possession of
the air. He accordingly prevailed on the young man
to play it over and over, until he picked up every
note, which he immediately committed to paper on
his return home. Delighted willi his new discovery,
as he supposed, he lost no time in communicating it
to Miss Rutherford, who not only recognized the
tune, but likewise repeated some detached lines of
the old ballad. Anxious, however, to have a set of
verses ariapted to his favourite melody, and well
aware that iaw, if any, were better qualified than
Miss Rutherford for such a task, he took the liljerty
of begging this favour at her hand. Slie obligingly
consented, and, in a few days thereafter, he had the
])leasure of receiving the stanzas from the fair
author. Among the recollections of .Sir Walter
.Scott, tlie following occurs of the circumstances
under which the song was written: "A turret in the
(j!d liouse of Fairnalee is still shown as the place
wliere tlie jiocm (/ have seen the Smiling, &c. ) was
written. 'I'iie occasion was a calamitous period in
Selkirkshire or l^ttrick Forest, when no fewer than
seven lairds or jjroprietors, men of ancient family
and inheritance, having been engaged in some im-
prudent s[)ecuiation-;, l)ecame insolvent in one year."

In 1 73 1 this beaulifid and talented poetess was
married to I'atrick (Jocklnirii, advocate, youngest
s'>n of Adam Cocklnirn, of Orniiston, lord justice-
clerk of .Scotland. At a time wlien ihe Pretender
ami his son were keeping liritain astir with tiie
])nimiseof a descent upon its shores, tlie ilislinctions
of Whig and Tory were matters of lifc-and-death irn-
I>Mrtancc, in v.-liicli every member of the community
hal a stake; and hotli .Mrs. (Jocklnirn and lier hus-
liand were keen Whigs, and standi adherents of
the existing government. In this cliar.icter the
a Ivocate deprived the Pretender's cause of a jiDwcr-
fiil ally, and perhaps the expected ally himself from
rirn, according to the following statement of .Sir
Walter Scott: " I Icr liusband acted as commissioner
fjr tlie F)uke of Hamilton of that day; and being,

as might be expected from his family, a sincere friend
to the Revolution and Protestant succession, he
used his interest with his principal to prevent him
from joining in the intrigues which preceded the in-
surrection of 1745, to which his grace (who was
then only in his twenty-second year) is supposed to
have had a strong inclination." Mr. Cockburn
died in 1753, and Ids widow survived him for more
than forty years. Her own death occurred in Edin-
burgh on the 22d of November, 1794, when she was
more than eighty years old.

To this scanty record of her life (the general fate
of lier sex, however talented) it is fortunate that we
can add a few particulars to fill up the outline, from
the affectionate notices of her distinguished kinsman,
.Sir Walter Scott. From these we learn that Mrs.
Cockburn had cultivated poetry from an early period,
and that she continued to indulge in it until near
the close of her life ; but in this case it was more in
the spirit of an amateur than an author, her pro-
ductions being chiefly short poetical pieces, or spor-
tive parodies concerning passing events, or the per-
sons with whon; she was connected. One instance
of this he gives in a set of verses, descriptive of some
of her friends, which she sent to a company where
most of them were assembled, and where their brief
caricature likenesses were so admirably sketched,
that the originals were recognized as soon as the
verses were read aloud. One of these was the fol-
lowing upon Sir Walter Scott's father, then a young
man, and remarkably handsome, but distinguished
still more highly by his upright character than his
l^ersonal endowments: —

"To a thing that's uncommon —
A youth of discretion,
Who, though vastly handsome,
Despises flirtation;
To the friend in affliction,
The heart of affection,
Who may hear the last trump
Without dread of detection."

In describing her style of life, we have a picture of
the state of fashionable society in Edinburgh during
the last century, which its "oldest living inhabitant"
only saw in its departure — and over the records of
which its present children can sometimes linger witli
regret. "My mother and Mrs. Cockburn," .Sir
Walter says, "were related, in what degree I know-
not, but sufficiently near to induce Mrs. Cockburn to
distinguish her in her will. Mrs. Cockburn had the
misfortune to lose an only son, Patrick Cockljurn,
who had the rank of ca]3tain in the dragoons, several
years before her own death. .Slie was one of tliose
persons whose talents for conversation made a
stronger impression on her contemporaries than her
writings can be expected to produce. In person
and feature she somewhat resembled Queen Eliza-
beth; but the nose was rather more a'piiline. .She
was ])roud of her auburn hair, which remained un-
bleached by time, even when she was upwards of
eighty years old. .She maintained the rank in the
society of Edinburgh which Frenchwomen of talents
usually do in tliat of Paris; and in her little parlour
used to assemble a very distinguished and accom-
])lislied circle, among whom David Hume, John
Home, Lord Monboddo, and many other men ol
name, were frequently to be found. Her evening
j)aities were very fretpient, and ineludeil society dis-
tinguished both for condition and talents. The/<///
soitper, which always concluded the evening, wns
like that of Stella, which she u.,ed t(j quote on the
occasion: —

'A supper hke her mi^jlity self,
f'oiir nothings on four plates of delf ;'

But they passed off more gaily than many cootlier

HENRY THOMAS COCKHURX.

)79

entertainments. She spoke both wittily and well;
and maintained an extensive correspondence, whicii,
if it continues to exist, must contain many things
highly curious and interesting. My recollection is,
that her conversation brought her much nearer to a
Frenchwoman than to a native of England; and, as
I have the same impression with respect to ladies
of the same period and the same rank in society, I
am apt to think that the vieilU cour of Edinburgh
rather resembled that of I'aris than that of St. James's;
and particularly, that the Scotch imitated the Paris-
ians in laying aside much of the expense and form
of these little parties, in which wit and good humour
were allowed to supersede all occasion of display.
The lodging where Mrs. Cockburn received the best
society of her time would not now afford accommoda-
tion to a very inferior person." "Even at an age,"
Sir Walter elsewhere adds, "advanced beyond the
usual bounds of humanity, she retained a play of im-
agination, and an activity of intellect, which must
have been attractive and delightful in youth, but
were almost preternatural at her period of life. Her
active benevolence, keeping pace with her genius,
rendered her equally an object of love and admira-
tion." Tiie dress and appearance of this venera!)le
lady are thus described in the letter of a lady written
to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq.: — "She had a
pleasing countenance, and piqued herself upon
always dressing according to her own taste, and not
according to the dictates of fashion. Her brown
hair never grew gray; and she wore it combed up
upon a toupee — no cap — a lace hood tied under her
chin, and her sleeves puffed out in tlie fashion of
(^ueen Elizabeth, which is not uncommon now, but
at that time was quite peculiar to herself" And thus,
after having bloomed for well nigli a century, and
when an entire change of society was at hand, the
last flower of the forest was "wede away," leaving
a native fragrance behind her which time will not
soon extinguish.

COCKBURN, Hknry Thomas, one of the lords
of session, and a lord-commissioner of justiciary. This
accomplished scholar, eminent lawyer, and upright
judge, was born in 1778, and was the son of Archibald
Cockburn, a baron of the court of cxcheciucr in Scot-
land. His fiinily connections and influence naturally
selected the law for his profession, and after a suitable
education for the purpose, Henry Thomas Cockburn
was called to the Scottish bar in iSoo. But it was
no easy arena into which he had entered; for the
ground was preoccupied by Titans, and of these it
is enough to mention the names of George Cranstoun,
Thomas Thomson, Francis Jeffrey, Fullerton, and
Moncrieff To v.-in distinction amidst sucli a band
of talented competitors, and be enrolled among their
number, was no ordinary achievement; Init this he
accomplisiied, and was soon distinguished as one of
the most talented of our Scottish advocates. There
were other circumstances also more difficult perhaps
to overcome than that of such a rivalrv; for he was
of small stature and homely countenance — obstacles
naturally of serious detriment to the progress of an
orator and jileailcr. He .lUo jiersisted in the use of
the Scotch dialect, although the literary taste of the
day had bani>Iied it, and when even oidinary feeling
was condemning it as low and vulgar. "Mr. Cock-
burn,"savs I.Dckliart. in /Vur's I.ctt.y.; tohis Kinsfolks.
"is a h<jmelv speaker; but he carri's his homeliness
to a lengtii which I don"t reiiK-inher over to have
heard anv other truly great speaker venture ujion.
He uses the Sc<')ttish di.alect— always its music, and
not unfrequently its word~ — quite a-^ brnadly as Mr.
Clerk of ElJin, an.l perhaps at fir^l hjar;ng witli

rather more vulgarity of cffi-ct; for he is a young
man, and I have already hinted that no young man
can speak Scotch with the same impunity as an old
one." " Nevertheless," the same author adds, " I am
sure no man who has witnessed the effect which
Mr. Cockburn produces ui)on a Scotti>>h jury would
wish to see him alter anything in hi'^ mode of address-
ing them. . . . His irsc of the langunge, and his
still more excpii^ite u->e of the miages and allusions of
common Scotti.-,h life, must contribute in the most
powerful manner to his success in this first great ob-
ject of all his rhetoric. There is an air of broad and
undisguised sincerity in the .simi)le tones and ener-
getic phrases he employs, which fmds its way like a
charm to the very bottom of the hearts around him.
He sees it painted in their beaming and exjianding
faces, and sees, and knows, and feels at once that
his eloquence is persuasive. Once so far victorious,
he is thenceforth irresistible. He has established an
understanding between himself and his audience —
a feeling of fellowship and confidence of communion
which nothing can disturb. The electricity of thought
and of sentiment jiasses from his face to theirs, and
thrills back again from theirs to his. He has fairly
come into contact; he sees their breasts lie bare to
his weapon, and he will make no thrust in vain."
To the same effect is the description of another .Scotch
writer, by which the portrait of Cockburn at the bar
is complete. "As a pleader, es])ecially in criminal
cases or jury trials, we shall never again see the equal
of Mr. Cockburn. Jeffrey alone, and that o:dy on
some occasions, approached him. His sagacity, his
brevity, his marvellous power of expression — so
homely, yet so truly and touchingly eloquent — his
mingled pathos antl humour, his winning .Scotch
manner, his masterly analysis of evidence, and the
intense earnestness, not the less effective that it was
visibly chastened and restrained, with which he ideti-
tilied himself with his client — made his appeals to
Scottish juries always powerful, and frequently
resistless."

In this manner the career of Cockburn was con-
tinued as an advocate until 1830. His history for years
had exclusively been that of a brilliant and successful
lawyer, but without the political promotion to which
such high talents were entitled; and f )r this neglect
his political opinions were sufficient to account. He
had commenced ])ul)lic life as a Whig; he had adhere<l
unflinchingly to the princiidcs of his party even when
tliey were the most obnoxious to the ruling powers.
anil coukl expect nothing more from government tlian
forbearance in return. It was too well known that
he was the friend of the chief supporters of the Edni-
I'uy^h A'c'T'/l'Tl', and an occasi(mal contributor to its
]iages, and tliat there was no hope of purchasing h.is
recantation. But the great political change in th.j
year above-mentioned, by which his party came iniii
]->lace and power, reverse<l this order of things, and
while Jeffrey was apjiointed lord-ailvocate, Cockl)uin
became solicitor-general for Scotland. In i834l)'>th
were elevated to the bench, and a^ a judge, l.or i
Cockburn was distinguishe<l by the s.-.me high c!;ar-
acter which he had won as an advocate. "As a :u :^c.
savs the writer from wliom wr have las: .jr., .ted. "he
was distinguished by lii- sl.iIlV.l .IvtcctiMU of ia:-oho^ d
in princi]deor inevi'Icnce. by hrea-iih an 1 distini. live-
ness of view, not unfrequeiitlv ivci.-iving the cor.hni.a-
tionoftlie House of l.onis onaj; cal. i)y his graceful
and luminous expo~i!:on. by pi;r;!> and iir.) r.rtiaiity
of character, and by r,r.i!""rin at!a: .i'.ty an i cov.rtf~y
of demeanour.'' In l>37 he received tiic a..'i;t.o!-r.I
appointment of a Io:-.!-c. inuir;--:oner o; in-tiaan.-, and
here his pr.)fe--;onal M'nvii^^n- te.niinate''.

Intl;- l;:j..ri.oi-lCoJvbuiath.:carcf^w.n:;'ie;;t^

JOHN COCKBURN.

of a public character to narrate; his course was an
even tenor, and its chief events were the transitions
by which he rose to the highest place in his profession.
In private life, while he held by his distinctive prin-
ciples, he was too good-natured to obtrude them upon
society; and this forbearance, with his many lovable
qualities, made him be esteemed by all parties alike.
It was often a subject of regret with those who knew
his varied abilities out of the range of his own pro-
fession, that he had not attempted to establish for
himself a permanent reputation by authorship; but
except a few articles in tlie Edinburgh Rr^nt~ii.i and
other periodicals, he published nothing until 1852,
when he had attained the ripe age of seventy-four
years. He then produced tlie Life of Lord J'^'fjrcy,
and a volume of his correspondence — a work so ad-
mirably written, and containing such vivid delinea-
tions of the distinguished men of a departed age, and
the fashions of past Scottish life, as well as a minute
record of his hero, that the work, notwitlistanding
the transient nature of tlie sul:)jccts, is still a favourite
with the reading ]>ublic of our country. One peculi-
arity of Lord Cockburn by wliich his popularity was
enhanced, was his intense love of the site, scenery, and
architecture of Edinburgh, and his consequent endea-
vours that these should either be untouched l)y modern
innovations, or at least treated with a gentle and
careful hand; and the changes proposed by town-
councils and civic architects, by which his beloved
" Auld Reekie" was to be beautified, he either watched
with a jealous eye, or could not patiently tolerate.
These feelings set his pen in motion with an intensity
indicative of a ruling passion strong in death, so that
four or five years before he died he wroteapungently
sarcastic pamphlet, entitled 71ic Best Way of Spoil ing
the Beauty of Edinburgh ; and scarcely three weeks
before his death he addressed two letters to an influ-
ential Edinburgh newspaper in favour of the south-
east angle of East Prince's Street, as the best site
attainable for the restoration of Trinity College
Church. Nor was this love of beauty in Lord
Cockburn confined to mere tlieory, but was an active
principle, which his house of Bonaly, near Colinton,
and the pleasure-grounds that surrounded it, testified,
where he liad bestowed time, lal)oar, skill, and money
in their improvement, altiiough there was no son to
inherit his labours and sacrifices. It was here finally
that his lordship died, on the 26lh of April, 1854, after
a brief illne.^s of five days.

COCKBURN, John, of Ormiston, the father of
Scottish husbandry, was born in the latter part of
tiie seventeenth century. His father, Adam Cock-
burn, of Ormiston (in East Lothian), held the
eminent office of lord-justice clerk after the Revolu-
tion. His motlier was Lady Susan Hamilton, third
daughter of John, fourth I'^arl of Haddington. So
early as the days of the Reformation, the family had
distinguished itself i)y its zeal in l)clialf of liberal
institutions and i)ublic liberty. The laird of that
day maintained an alliance with tlie English refor-
mers, when hardly any other Scottish gentleman dared
to oppose the tyranny of l>eatoun; and it was in his
house that the celebrated CJeorge \Vi>hart was fnmd,
previous to his being brought to trial and burned.
Erom that ]ieriod down to the Kcvoliition the Cock-
burns of Ormiston were invariably on the liberal
side of the question. The subject c)f tliis memoir
inherited all the patriotism of his race, and in the?
lifetime of his father, in his capacity as a nienil>cr of
the last Scottish parliament, took an active inlerest
in accomplishing the union. He was tlie first rcpre-
sentalive of East Lothian in the parliament of (Ireat
i5ritain, and continued to be elected to that distin-

guished place in all the successive parliaments till
1741. Mr. Cockburn at one period of his parlia-
mentary career held the post of lord of the admiralty.

It was not, however, in a political career that he
was destined to gather his chief laurels. At the close
of the seventeenth century, on account of the religious
and civil broils which had so long distracted the
country, the condition of agriculture in Scotland
was at a very low ebb. The tenantry, so far from
being able to make any improvement, were too poor
in general even to stock the lands they occupied.
Eletcher of Salton, who published a treatise on the
affairs of Scotland, in 1698, describes their situation
as abject and miserable; and Lord Kaimes, in still
stronger language, declares, that before the union
they were so benumbed with oppression, that the
most able tutor in husbandry would have made no-
thing of them. By a short-sighted policy the land-
lords in general had no other principle than to force
as much from the soil for every passing year as they
could. The tenants were so much disheartened,
that it was difficult to let a farm, and none were
taken upon leases of more than five years. But even
if other circumstances had been more favourable,
there was such a rooted prepossession in favour of
old systems, and so much ignorance of the science of
agriculture, that improvement was almost hopeless.

Lord Ormiston, father of Mr. Cockburn, had
made an attempt so early as 1698 to break through
the old system of short leases. He then granted
Robert Wight, eldest son of Alexander Wight, one of
his tenants in Ormiston, a lease of the farm oi Aluir-
hoitse, now 3fu!-7-ays, to endure iox eleven years. Mr.
Wight accordingly commenced inclosing his fields,
a process heretofore quite unknown in Scotland. In
1713 Lord Ormiston granted to the same j^erson a
lease of a neighbouring farm to endure for nine
years.

John Cockburn, who became possessed of the
estate about the year 17 14, immediately entered
upon a much more extensive system of improvement.
He had marked with extreme concern the supine
condition of Scottish husbandry, which his parlia-
mentary visits to luigland had enabled him to con-
trast with the more fortunatecondition of that country;
and with an enlarged liberality of soul, which scorned
all his own immediate interests for the sake of ulti-
mate general good, he began to grant long leases of
his farms upon exceedingly small rents. As an in-
stance it may be mentioned, that he granted to Robert
Wight a new lease of the Muirays farm for thirty-
eight years, from 17 18, at a rent of ;i^75o Scots, or
;i^62, los. od. sterling, and upon ])aying ;^I200
Scots, or ;^ioo sterling, by way of fine or grassum,
at the expiration of that term, a renewal thereof for
other nineteen years, and so on from one period of
nineteen years to another in all time coming: a de-
gree of liberality wliich sjieaks more strongly than
anything else ]iossib]y could, for the backward
state of agriculture at the time. But the enterpris-
ing sjiirit of Mr. Cockl)urn diti not rest here. In
giving long leases he had enabled his tenants to
make the imi^rovements he wislied; but still it was
necessary to teach them how tliese improvements
should be conducted. Eor this jnirpose he brought
down skilfiil ])cisons from ICiigland, who inlroihiccd
the culture of turni]-is, rape, aiul clover; and at the
same time he sent up the sons of his tenants to study
agriculture in the l)est cultivated districts of the south.
Ex])eriments were likewise made of the effects of
enriching the land by flooding. Turnijis were sown
upon the estate so early as 1725, and Alexander
Wiglit, one of his tenants, was jirobably the first
man in the island who sowed them in drills, and

- '^'y.€ '

JOHN COCKBURN — PATRICK COLQUHOUN.

3Si

cultivated them with the plough. The culture of
this valuable root was brought by him to such per-
fection, that, in 1735, ^ turnip of his raising, weigh-
ing 34X tt)s, was carried to Edinburgh, and hung up
in John's cofToe-house as a show.

Even while engaged in his public duties in Eng-
land, .Mr. Cockburn was constantly reverting in
thought to the improvements he had set on foot in
East Lothian, and he carried on a constant corres-
jiondcnce with his tenants respecting the progress
of their mutual plans. In some of these letters he
bre.ithes the strongest sentiments of benevolence and
patriotism. "No person,"says he to Mr. Alexander
Wight in 1725, "can have more satisfaction in the
prosperity of his children, than I have in the welfare
of persons situated on my estate. I hate tyranny in
every shape; and shall always show greater pleasure
in seeing my tenants making something under me
they can call their own, than in getting a little more
money myself, by squeezing a hundred poor families,
till their necessities make them my slaves."

His proceedings were at first the subject of ridicule
among the more narrow-minded of his neighbours;
but the results in time overpowered every mean feel-
ing, and grailually inspired a principle of imitation.
In 1726 he encouraged his tenant Alexander Wight
in setting up a malting brewery ami distillery,
which soon got into repute, and promoted the rais-
ing of grain in the neighbourhood. As a prelim-
inary steji to further improvements, he reformed the
village of Ormiston, changing it from the original
mean and squalid hamlet into a neat and well-built
street. He then commenced a series of operations
for setting up a linen manufactory. This he con-
sidered as one of the staple trades of Scotland, and
as the best support of the general interest. He viewed
it as intimately connected with husbandry; the land
affording an opportunity of producing the raw
article to the manufacturers, while they in return fur-
nished hands for carr)-ing on agricultural works,
especially in harvest, and for the consumption of its
various produce. To attain these objects, an emi-
nent undertaker from Ireland, both in the manufactur-
ing and whitening of linen, was induced to take up
his residence at Ormiston; and a favourable lease
of a piece of ground for a bleachfield and some
lands in the neighbourhood was granted to him.
This was the first bleachfield in East Lothian, pro-
bably the second in Scotland — for, before 1730, fine
linens were sent to Haarlem in Holland to be
whitened and dressed. It is said that this Irish
colony was the means of introducing the potato in
Scotland, at least as an object of field culture; and
that valuable root was raised in the grounds on this
estate so early as 1734. Mr. Cockburn also intro-
duced some workmen from Holland, to give instruc-
tions in the art of bleaching. He obtained for his
rising manufactory the patronage of the board of
trustees, and likewise some pecuniary aiii.

.\bout the year 1736 tlic progress of agricultural
iminovement at ()rmi>ton had excited so much notice
all over ."^cotlantl, that Mr. Cockburn, always awake
to every circumstance wliich could forwartl his darling
(ihject, seized upon sucii a iiotalile O]iportunily of
(ii>sen)inating uscfiil knowledge among his brother
])ropriotors and their tenantry. He instituted what
was called the Ormiston Society, conijiosed of noble-
men, gentlemen, ami farmers, who met monthly for
the discussion of some ajipropriate ([uestion in niral
economy, settled upon at their lormer meeting, on
which question all the meail)ers present deliveretl
their opinion. This club lasted tor alxiui eleven
years, and was of great service in jiromoting the
views of its founder. It consisted at last of 106

members, comprising almost all the best intellects
of Sc(jtland at that time.

Mr. Cockburn was married, fir-it, in 1 700, to the
Hon. .Miss Ueatrix Carmichael, eldest daughter of
John, first Earl of Hyndford; scc<mdly, loan Englisli
lady, related to the Duchess of Gordon, by whom he
had a son named George. It is distressing to think
that, about the year 1748, this great patriot wis
obliged, ])robai)ly in consecpience of his spirited exer-
tions for the public gooil, to dispose of his c^tate to
the Earl of I lopetoun. 1 le died at his son\ house at
the Navy Office, London, on the I2lh of November,
1758. His son, who was a comptroller of the navy,
married Caroline, ]5aroness Eorrester in her own
right, and was the father of .Vnna .Maria, also liaron-
ess l-'orrester in her own right, who died unmarried
in 1808. — Patrick Cockburn, advocate, brother of
the agriculturist, was married, in 1731, to Miss .Mice
Rutherford of Eaimalee, a woman of poetical genius,
authoress of the more modern vei^es to the tune of
The Flo7uers of the Forest, and who died in Edin-
burgh, November 22, 1794.

It would be difficult to do full justice to the merits
of such a character as Cockburn of Ormiston, or t<j
describe the full effects of his exertions upon the in-
terests of his country. It may be said that he lived
at a time when the circumstances of Scotland were
favourable to improvement, as it was the first age
of reaction after a long depression. But, although
the country would have made great advances with-
out his aid, there can be little doubt that he consider-
ably anticipated the natural period of improvement,
and gave it an impulse much greater than was likely
to be otherwise received. On what other principle
are we to account for the immense degree to which
the agriculture of .Scotland now transcends that of
England — the country from which it so recently de-
rived its first hints in the art?

COLQUHOUN, Patrick, a writer on statistics
and criminal jurisprudence, was born at Dumbarton,
March 14, 1745. His father, who acted as registrar
of the county records, was nearly allied to Sir Rolx-rt
Colquhoun, Part, of Nova .Scotia, and al.-o to -Sir
James Colquhoun of Luss. Having lost his father
ere he attained his sixteenth year, Patrick Colquhoun
determined, like many others of his countrymen, to
seek his fortune abroad. He settled on what was
called the Eastern Shore in Virginia, where for five
years he carried on commercial pursuits. It \\as the
general custom of the inhabitants of this district to
cross the Chesapeake Bay twice a year, in order to
transact business at the scat of government; and sucii
were the (pialifications for public busincs.s maniles'ed.
even at this early period by Mr. Colquhoun. th.-a
many were in the habit of trusting their concerns to
him, instead of going to the general mart in per-o:i.
Besides carrying on these trading sjiecui.'-.'.ions. l;e
studied very hard at this time, and endeavoured,
l)oth by reading intelligent books and conveisir.g
v.'ith intelligent men, particularly of ;l-.e Ie.^al I'M-
fession, to fit himself f<»r jnihlic dr.lics. l:i I7(".
when twenty-one years of .age, he retunied tihi-ouii
country for the sake of his health, .ir.d <e;:lcd r.s a
merchant in Glasgow, \\ here he soo:i .iiier m.^.iiied
a ladv of his own name, the dau^htir o! I'r.e jroNo-t
of Dumbarton. Ow the breaking .,;:: of tlie w.-.r with
the colonies, Mr. Colpilioun -;<ic 1 \\;;!i govenuiient,
and in 1776 he w.is one of fv,;i:een ja-.n^:;^::! con-
tributors to a fund fir i:i;-;ng a i\-;;ner.t in (>]a-gow,
for his majesty's service in tl;.-.: -tn::;^'.e. lie tin;-
became a jiers on of pu^-nc c •nsider.ition. and -ue-
ceeiled, in 17S0, in carrying through parliament a
b;ll of creat cun-e nience to the trade of the cvjin.try.

PATRICK COLQUHOUN.

In 1 781, when occupying a place in the town-council
of Glasgow, he suggested and carried forward to
completion the design for building the coffee-house
and exchange in that city. Next year he was elected
I)rovost of Glasgow. He now became the founder
of that excellent institution, the Chamber of Com-
merce and Manufactures at Glasgow, of which he
was the first chairman. While holding these dis-
tinguished offices, he was also chairman of the com-
mittee of management of the Forth and Clyde canal,
and the leading manager of various other public
bodies. A genius for business on a large scale was
conspicuous in all his undertakings. In 1785 he
repaired to London to obtain legislative relief for the
cotton trade, then in a languishing condition, and
for some years afterwards he devoted a large portion
of his time to similar objects. In 1788 lie visited
(Jstend, then a depot for f^ast India goods, to
ascertain how far similar British manufactures could
enter into competition with the imports of the
Flemings; and it was owing to his exertions that our
muslins, then an infant manufacture, became so ex-
tensively known throughout the Continent. Con-
nected with this subject he published three pamphlets,
which tended to make his efforts known to the Bri-
tish merchants. In tlie same year Mr. Colqulioun
laid the plan of a general hall in London for the sale
of cottons, which, however, was rendered of little
efTect by the breaking out of the war with France.
On tliis subject he also published a pamphlet. In
the month of November, 1789, he settled with his
family in London, and soon after began to project
those improvements in the London police and magis-
tracy, by which he earned the principal part of his
fame. The police of London was at this time in a
state of shameful inefficiency, while the magistrates,
except in the aty itself, were a set of low mercenary
individuals, known liy the justly opprobrious title of
tradtug justices. On this subject Mr. Colqulioun
composed several popular treatises, and in 1792,
when seven public offices were established, with
three justices to each, he was appointed to one of
them, through the influence of his friend Mr. Henry
Dundas, afterwards Viscount Melville. Hi« exer-
tions as a magistrate were of a nature truly useful;
and he published the result of his experience in 1796,
under the title of A Treatise on the Police of the
Metropolis, explaining the Various Crimes and Afis-
demeanours which at present are felt as a Pressure on
the Community, and suggesting Remedies. This work
earned a merited reputation, and went througli a
large annual reprint for the five succeeding years.
It obtained the praise of the select committee of
finance, and ])articular marks of approbation from
tile Luke of l'(jrtland, then secretary of state for tlie
home department. He was, in consequence of tiiis
work, aiipointe<! agent in Great Britain for the colony
of the Virgin Isles. In 1800 ajipeared his treatise
on the Police of the River 7'hames, a work certainly
demanded in no small degree by tlie circumstances.
Though it may hereafter ajipear almost incrediliie, it
is nevertheless true, that tlie sliipping of London,
j)revious to this jieriod, was totally iniprotected from
tlie vast hordes of thieves wliicli always exi^t in a
large city. Wliile ]:)roperty on tlie Itanks of tlie
river was so far protected, that wliicli floated on the
river itself had no protection whatever. .Accord-
ingly, a generation of tliieves, called mudlarhs,
priv.led constantly about the vessels, and made jircy
annually of property to a vast aniount. N(jt only
did the cargoes suffer, but even sails, anchor-, and
<)thcr such iniiky articles, were abstracted hy tlicse
<iaring dei^redators. For many years this had been
f.;lt as a grievous liardship, but it is ama/ing how

long an evil may be tolerated for which no remedy
has been provided by the necessities of our ancestors.
It was looked upon as a matter of course, a mischief
incident to the situation of things; and as each in-
dividual only suffered his share of the immense
amount of loss, there had been no general effort at
a reformation. Mr. Colquhoun's work, however,
effectually roused public attention to the subject, and
an effective river police was immediately instituted,
by which the shipping has been ever since fully pro-
tected. For his services on this occasion, the West
India merchants presented him with the sum of

Although Mr. Colquhoun bore externally a some-
what pompous and domineering aspect, and was
certainly a zealous advocate for keeping the people
in due sulijcction to the powers above them, there
never perhaps was a heart more alive than his to
the domestic interests of the poor, or a mind more
actively bent upon improving both their physical
and moral condition. He was one of the first men
in this country who promoted a system of feeding
the poor, in times of severe distress, by cheap and
wholesome soups. And, in the famine of iSoo, few
men were more active in behalf of the starving popu-
lation. He also took an early interest in the system
of charity schools, being of opinion that the true way
of improving the condition of the people was to en-
lighten their minds. In 1S03 he was instrumental
in founding a school in Orchard Street, Westminster,
in which three or four hundred children of both sexes
were taught the rudiments of human knowledge.
He also published in lSo6 a work entitled A A'cui
System of lulucation for the Labouring People, which
obtained an extensive circulation. Two years after-
wards aj^ijieared his Treatise on Indigence, in which
the institution of a provident bank is strongly urged.

In 1797 Mr. Colquhoun was honoured with the
degree of LL.D. by the university of Cdasgow, in
consequence of his services in that part of the king-
dom. Throughout the course of his long and useful
life, he received many other testimonies of the pulilic
approbation. His last work appeared in 1814, under
the title, A Treatise on. the Population, Wealth, Pmver.
and Resources of the British Empire, in every Quarter
of the IVorld, including the East Indies. Dr. Col-
quhoun's publications in all aniount to twenty; and
of these an accurate list is given in the Annual
Obituary for 1812. After having been concerned in
public life for about thirty-nine years, during which
he had transacted business with eight or ten succes-
sive administrations, in 181 7 he tendered his resigna-
tion as a magistrate, inconsequence of his increasing
years and infirmities; this, however, was not accepted
by Lord Sidmouth until the subsequent year, when
the secretary of state for the home de]iartment ex-
jiresscd the high sense entertained of his long and
faithful services by his majesty's government. I)r.
Colquhoun died of a schirrous stomach, A])ril 25,
1820, in the seventy-sixth year of his age.

The character of Dr. Colquhoun has been tlui^
drawn by Dr. Lettsoni: — "When the importance of
the morals of the community, witii its infhience on
individual as well as general liapi)ine:-s, is duly con-
sidered, one cannot but contemjilate a public char-
acter, who, with unceasing exertion, endeavours to
])romote every virtuous and charitable sentiment,
with gratjtuile and reverence; a magistrate clothcl
with ])(nver ttj enforce obedience, but ])ossessiiig
benevolence more coercive than power; who is emi-
nently vigilant to arrest in its progress every species
of vice, and commiserates, as a man humanized by
Christian amenities, every deviation from rectitude,
and reforms wliile he pities— such, is a being clulheil

ANDREW COMBE.

3?:

with robes of divinity. In this point of view, I,
indeed, saw my friend, Patrick Colquhoun, Esq.,
whose exertions point to every direction where morals
require correction, or poverty and distress the aid of
active benevolence. As an indefatigable magistrate,
and an able writer in general, Mr. Colquhoun is well
known throughout Europe. I introduce him in this
place as the founder and promoter of various in-
stitutions for supplying the poor, in distress, with
cheap and nutritious articles of food, to an extent
truly astonishing, and without which famine must
have been superadded to poverty. The enumeration
alone of my friend's publications must evince the
activity of his benevolence, with which his time and
fortune have ever kept pace. May the reader en-
tleavour to emulate his virtues! He will then not
only diffuse happiness among the community, par-
ticularly the lower classes, but insure the supreme
enjoyment of it in his individual capacity."

COMBE, Andrew, M.D. This excellent physi-
cian and physiologist was the fifteenth child and
seventh son of Mr. George Combe, Ijrewer, at
Livingston's Yards, in the suburbs of lidinburgh,
and Marion Newton, his wife, and was born on tiie
27th of October, 1797. After being educated in
the initiatory branches at a private seminary, he was
sent, at the age of eight, to the high-school of Edin-
burgh, and having continued there at the study of
Latin and Greek for five years, he went to the uni-
versity, where, in the course of two seasons, he con-
trived to forget what Latin he had learned at school,
and become a respectable Grecian. But with all
this teaching of dead languages, his own was allowed
to shift as it might, so that, although he could read
Homer, he was unable to pen a tolerable ordinary
epistle. Like many others under a similar process
of tuition, and who have risen to distinction in spite
of such perversity, Andrew Combe, by the diligent
self-cultivation of after-years, acquired that mastery
of the English language, and excellence in composi-
tion, which his works so fully attest. After he had
passed a sickly taciturn boyhood, and entered his
fifteenth year, it was fitting tliat he should announce
the future ])rofession he meant to follow; but to
every question on this head from his parents, his
invariable answer w.as, "TU no be naething.'' They
imderstood these two negatives in the Scottish ac-
ceptation, of course, and reckoning such a choice of
total idleness inexpedient in one of a family of seven-
teen children, his father chose for him the medical
l^rofession, into -which the apathetic youth was to
be inducted without further delay. Accordingly, in
spite of all his struggles, Andrew was forced into a
new suit of clothes, carried out of the house, and
trotted along by dint of pulling and pushing, to the
dwelling of his future master, where he was bound
and left — to an apprenticeship whicli he had no
future cause to regret.

After finishing his apprenticcsliip, during wjiich
lie attende<l the usual medical course at the univer-
sity and the ])ublic hosjiit.il. An'ircw Combe, wjien
he had entered upon his twentieth year, took the
(iijiloma of surgeon. Previous to tliis event his in-
tellectual habile ha.l received not only a fiesli im-
pulse, but al-ii a new liirection, fri)m the study of
j/nrcnology, whieii wa> introduced into Edinburgli
througli tile arrival and lectures of Dr. .'^purzlicnn.
Of this science Mr. Gevirge Combe, al'terwards i;s
distinguished advocate, became an earne>t student,
and his younger brother Aiuirew was not long in
following the example. The latter, however, v. lien
he had little more than commenced his inquiries in
eaniest upon tlie subject, went to Paris in 1^17 to

perfect hims If in his professional studies. The
Continent was now opened to Britain by the general
peace, and our medical students were eager to avail
themselves of the opportunity by completing their
education in the French capital. Among the
Parisian lecturers on the various departments of
science whom Andrew Coml>e attended for this
jjurpose, he was so fortunate as to l>e a pupil of
Professor Dupuytren, to whose lessons so many of
our most eminent physicians have been so deeply
indebted. He also frequently associated in Paris
with Dr. Spurzheim, by whom he w.as completely con-
verted to a belief in th.at science by the rules of which
all his future habits of investigation were more or
less directed. As this was a most important event
in his life, it may be proper to give his own account
of it:— "My attention was first seriously turned to
the examination of these doctrines during my re-
sidence at Paris, in the autumn of 1818, when Dr.
Spurzheim's Observations siir la Phre>iolo:;ie, then
just published, were happily put into my hands at
a time when, from there being no lectures in any of
the Parisian schools, I had ample leisure to penise
that work deliberately. I had not proceeded far
before I became impressed with the acuteness and
profundity of many of the author's remarks on the
varied phenomena of human nature, and with the
simplicity of the principles by which he explained
what had previously seemed contradictory and un-
intelligible; and in proportion as I advanced, the
scrupulousness of statement, sobriety of judgment,
and moral earnestness with which he advocated liis
views and inculcated their importance, made me
begin to apprehend that to condemn without inquiiy
was not the way to ascertain the truth of phrenolog}',
or to become qualified to decide in a matter of met! 1-
cine or of philosophy. I therefore resolved to pause,
in order to make myself acquainted with tlie prin-
ciples of tlie new physiology, and to resort, as he
[Dr. Spurzlieim] recommended, to obser\ation and
experience for tlie means of verifying or disproving
their accuracy, before again hazarding an opinion
on the suljject." Thus prepared for examination
and conviction, he examined and was convinced.
.\fter two years of such study tlie following con-
clusion was the result: — " .\ctuated by the natural
feeling of ini])robabiIity th.at so much should have
been discovered in so short time by only two in-
dividuals, however eminent their talents and felici-
tous their opportunities, 1 still expected to meet
with some important errors of detail; and, so far
from lieing dis])osed to adopt im})licitly all the |)ro-
positions of Drs. Gall and .Spurzheim, I ratlicr
looked for, and expected to find, some harty co:,-
clu>ions or unsupported assumption.-; and my sur-
prise ^^•as extreme to discover that, in tlie wliole
extent of their niquiry, they had proceeded v.iih >.»
much caution and accuracy as, in all t!ieir e-.-ent.. i
facts and inferences, to have rendered theni.-clvt
apparently invuhicraljle."" At tlie early ai,'e <_ :
twenty-one he thus became a tinn liclievL-r in jihrcn"-
logy, and, unlike many other- of hi.- contemporai .e-.
lie continued to lielieve in its 'riiici; le- .'■.n-.i a; p.\-
its rules to the !a--t.

After a course of diIiL:eiit -la-iy ai Par;- cnr.iinv.i ^1
for nearly two years, and a t'iur ilir":!.;h >v. ;;/c; ..r ';,
he returned to' ]vlinlnir:^'h at tiu- ci -e -f 1S19. IK-
was now realty, as {xi a- pr)fe-s'.o;.ai f^It"^^ ic '.j;e aiiu
the cno)uragenieiit of fiHit'.:- wt.r.t, f..r tlie ci.mi-
menceinent of Iva-iiie-.- a- a nu .;^ai j i-.aet.ti- incr;
but, unfortunateiv. lie re 'icl i>'r Iv.w.-eit ij.e a; :
which he shotild'liave ';r.i a:te<.l t- otiier-. l:i i.^
rambles in Switicrlaitd l^e had ever-t,i-ke ! 1:;-.
strcp.gtli, and. on retutif.i.^ to L.i.;.l.'.i :._,.■.. a ce^.i

3'^4

ANDREW COMBE.

room and damp bed confirmed tlie evil. A voyage
to Italy was judged necessary for his recovery, and
he embarked at Greenock for Leghorn at the end
of the following year. The cure was effectual, for
he returned to Edinburgh in May, 1822, and soon
after commenced practice as a surgeon, while his
extensive family connection, and the reputation he
had already acquired, soon procured him an exten-
sive circle of occupation. At this time, also, he first
appeared before the world as an author, in an essay
On the Effects of Injuries of the Brain upon the JMani-
festations of the Mind, which was first read before
the Phrenological Society, and afterwards published
in its Transactions. In this way he brought his
beloved science into full play at the commencement
of his public life, not only in a literary but also a
professional capacity, notwithstanding the obloquy
and derision with which it was generally treated at
this period. In 1823, while the phrenological con-
troversy was at its height, Mr. Combe again entered
the field in its defence, by an essay entitled Observa-
tions on Dr. Barclay's Objections to Phrenology, which
was also published in the Transactions of the society.
In the same year he, in conjunction with four others,
established the Phrenological yiutrnal, to which he
was an active contributor till his death. In 1836
he collected the most important of these articles, and
published them in a separate volume. Eager to
extend the knowledge of a science to which he was
so devoted, and justify its claims to universal atten-
tion, he also hazarded their introduction into a
quarter where they were little likely to appear with-
out a severe examination. This was in the Royal
Medical Society of Edinburgh, of which he was a
member, and before which he was obliged in his
turn to write a dissertation upon a subject selected
by a committee of the society. The question pro-
posed in 1823 was, "Does Phrenology afford a
satisfactory Explanation of the Moral and Intellec-
tual Faculties of Man?" and Mr. Combe was ap-
propriately selected to write the dissertation. He
set to work upon the question con ainore, and pro-
duced a digest of all he liad learned, thought, and
observed, to bear upon the affirmative, while the
discussions that followed upon the suljject occupied
two nights of earnest debate before crowded aud-
iences. This able article, which was first published
in the Phrenological Journal, was also included in
the volume of Selections to which we have already
alluded. In 1825 he graduated as doctor of medi-
cine, and on that occasion chose for the subject of
his thesis, "The Seat and Nature of Hypochon-
driasis," which was also published in an enlarged
form in the Phrenological Journal, and the Selec-
tions.

In commencing the medical art, first as surgeon
and afterwards as doctor. Combe was made aware
of two faults wJiich, in his course of practice, he care-
fully laboured to avoid. The first was tliat of never
interposing until the crisis of danger liad arrived.
No rules were prescrilied either to avoid a disease or
escape the repetition of an attack after the first had
been conquered. .'\s long as the ])atient was u]:ion
his legs lie might use what diet or exercise he pleased:
upon all this the man of healing w.as silent; he
thought it cnougli to come in at the moment of
danger, and treat the sufferer secundum artein until
tlie danger was over, without trouljjing himself al)out
the morrow; and if fresh excesses produce a deadlier
renewal of the malady, he was ready to doul:)le thu
dose, and proportion the penance to the evil. Tlie
hom'dy proverl), tliat "prevention is better tiian
cure," was too vulgar a rule for scientific notice; and
it was only when the disease fairly sliowed face tliat

a doctor girded himself for the onset. This was
anything but satisfactory to Dr. Combe, so that, in
his treatment of every malady, he was more solicitous
to prevent its occurrence than to show his profes-
sional prowess by overcoming it at its height; and
if the constitution of the patient made the disease a
natural tendency, his medical skill was exerted in
showing how the coming of the evil might be re-
tarded, or its inflictions softened. Hence his careful-
ness in inculcating the rules of diet and exercise, of
ablution and ventilation, which, homely and com-
mon-place as they are, and therefore deemed un-
suited to a learned physician, are yet the true essen-
tials of the healing art. Another fault which he was
also careful to avoid, was that of dictating to the
patient the medical regulations that were to be strictly
followed without assigning a cause, or enlisting his
reason in their behalf A blind, implicit faith was
exclusively demanded by too many of our medical
practitioners, and the remedy was to be used without
question or scruple. Dr. Combe saw that, how-
ever this pope-like assumption of infallibility might
gratify the vanity of the physician, it was little likely
to benefit the patient, more especially if his faith was
of that unruly kind that requires argument and proof
He therefore tried to enlist the reason of the patient
in behalf of the rules prescribed for his cure, and
showed so much of the nature, origin, and tendencies
of the disease as would enable him to co-operate in
its removal. "The consequences of this mode of
proceeding," says his biographer, "were equally
beneficial to his patients and to himself They be-
came convinced that it was nature that was dealing
with them, and that, although they might 'cheat the
doctor,' they could not arrest the progress of her
evolutions, or escape from aggravated evils, if they
obstructed the course of her sanative action. Under
these convictions they obeyed his injunctions with
earnestness and attention. By being premonished
of approaching symptoms, which were frequently
steps in the progress of the cure, but which, if not
explained, might have been regarded as aggravations
of the malady, they were saved from much alarm,
and he from many unnecessary calls and attendances.
His present biographer had ample opportunities of
remarking how few messages, even during the busiest
seasons of his practice, came to him from patients
under treatment, and how very rarely he was called
upon to visit them during the night. He ascribed
this comparative immunity from nocturnal calls to
the explanations and pre-arrangemcnts now adverted
to."

It was not till 1831 that Dr. Combe appeared as
the author of a separate work, as his productions
had hitherto been articles and essays, which were
afterwards published in the form of pamphlets.
Among the subjects he had studied in connection
with ]ihrenology was that of insanity; and from its
importance, as well as the general interest which
several cases of mental disease had lately excited,
he resolved to give at full length the fruits of his
study on this painful malady, with a view to its pre-
vention, amelioration, and cure. The title of the
work he ]:)ubiished was Obseri'ations on Mental De-
rangement; being an Application of the Principles of
Phrenology to the /■ducidation of the Causes, Symptoms,
Nature, and Treatment of Insanity. After this, his
close application to professional duties, in which he
emliarked with his whole heart, and the physiological
studies that occupied every moment of his leisure
time, so exhausted his delicate constitution, that
intermission and change of climate were again found
necessary ; and accordingly he spent the winter of
1831-32 in Italy, and the following year in Edin-

ANDREW COMBE -

burgh, London, and Paris. In 1834, though his
health was still infirm, he publishe<l in Edinburgh
The PrincipUs 0/ J'/iysiolofiy applied to the Preserva-
tion of Health, and to the Impravetncnt of Physical
and Mental Education. This work was so favour-
ably received, and continued to be so highly valued,
that at the period of his death 28,000 copies of it
had bL-en sold, exclusive of the numerous editions
that had been published in the United States of
North America. .So highly was Dr. Combe's pro-
fessional reputation now estaVjlished, that in 1836 he
w.as honoured with the appointment of physician to
the King of the Belgians. This occasioned two
visits to Brussels during the same year. At the
same time he pul)lished his Physiolo'^y of Dii^estioii,
considered luitli Relation to the Principles of Dietetics,
which went through nine editions. In 1838 Dr.
Combe was appointed one of the physicians extra-
ordinary to the (pieen in Scotland, an office of pro-
fessional honour merely, as no salary is attached to
it. In 1840 he published y/ Treatise on the Physio-
lo:;ical and Moral Mana^^entent of Infancy ; lietni^ a
Practical Exposition of the Principles of Infant
Training, for the Use of Parents. This work, which
was highly esteemed, and obtained an extensive
circulation, he continued to improve till his death.
His last eff^irt in authorship was an article on phren-
ology, which was published in the British and For-
eign Medical Rei'ie-LV for January, 1840.

Enough has been said in the foregoing narrative
to show that Dr. Combe, although so able a physi-
cian, was himself often in need of the benefits of the
healing art. Originally of a delicate and consump-
tive constitution, through which the activity and
application of his early youth had been frequently
checked, his maladies had increased from year to
year, so that in 1S34 he was obliged to renounce the
more active part of his profession, and confine him-
self to consulting practice. His constitution rallied
in consequence of this relief, and from 1837 to 1841
he enjoyed a better state of health than he had
hitherto experienced. \X. a later period, however,
his ailments returned, and with so permanent a hold,
as convinced him that, however lingering his last
illness might l)e, it had now commenced in good
earnest. Still, however, his wonted tran(juillity, and
even cheerfulness, were unabated ; ami to the last
he continued to correspond with his friends upon
those important subjects which had formed the great
study of his life. .\t length, by the recommendation
of his medical advisers, he tried the effect of the
climate of Madeira, to which island he repaired in
November, 1S42. .\fter having tlwelt a few months
there and returned home, he was obliged to make a
second visit to Madeira, where he wintered during
1843-44. As voyaging was found beneficial in ]-»ro-
tracting at least the inevitable termination of his
disease, he tried the elTect of a trip to New York in
the sjiring of 1847. But this, the last, was the most
unf"ortunate of all his voyages, fjr the vessel inwhicli
he sailed carried 3(jo steerage passengers, chietlv
Irish emigrants: and as the steerage extended from
stem to stern of the vessel, the cabin overhead was
pervadetl during tlvj wlmle passage with a sickening
atmosphere, the effect of which accelerated his dis-
solutiiin. Having made a three-weeks' sojourn in
New \'(irk, he returned to ."Scotland ; and only six
weeks subscviuently lie died, after a short illness, on
the 9th of .\ugiist, 1S47. He had thus only reached
the age of fiftv, init the chief suliject of wonder is,
that he had livcl >o long and done so much. He
could never have held out so well but for his clo<e
and conscientious attention to those rules of health
which he recommended to others; and thus, although

VOL. I.

GEORGE COMBE.

385

he might l)c considered a dying man at the age of
confirme<l manhoo<l, he was permitted to enjoy that
which, above every other earthly blessing, he most
valued— a life of thorough and benevolent usefulness.
Even to the last he was thus occupied; and when
the pen dropi)ed from his fingers, it w.as in the act of
writing to a friend fir information alxmt the regula-
tions of emigrant vessels, as he was at that time cm-
ployed, during the brief intervals of his last illness,
in ])reparing a communication upon the ship-fever,
which in that year was so fatal in the statistics of
British emigration. "Dr. Combe belonged," as is
well observed l)y one who intimately knew and
deeply loved him, "to that rare class of physicians
who present jmjfessional knowledge in cmnection
with the powers of a philosophical intellect ; and
yet, in practical matters, a])pear constantly under the
guidance of a rich natural sagacity. All liis works
are marked by a peculiar earnestness, lucidity, and
simplicity, characteristic of the author; they present
hygienic principles with a clearne-s for which we
know no parallel in medical literature. To this must
l)e ascribed much of the extraordinary succe--s thev
have met with; and on this quality undoubtedly rest,
no small portion of their universally acknowledge I
utility. . . . The personal character and private
life of Dr. Combe formed a beautiful and hann(niious
commentary ujion his writings. In the l)')>om of
his family, and the limited social circle to which his
weakly health confined him, he was the same benig-
nant and gentle being whom the world finds addres-
sing it in these compositions. . . . Kindly and
cordial to all, he did not seem to feel as if he could
have an enemy; and therefore, we believe, he never
had one. It might almost have been said that h,'
was too gentle and unobtnisive; and so his friends
perhaps would have thought him, had it not. (jn the
other hand, appeared as the most befitting character
of one who, they all knew, was not to be long spared
to them, and on whom the hues of a brighter and
more angelic being seemed already to be shed."

COMBE, Gi-ORCE. This enthusiastic phrcno-
logi-^t and practical moral iihiIoso]iher was born rt
Iviinburgh, Oct<jber 21, 17SS; and being ten yeai>
older than his brother .Vndrew Combe, M.D., the
subject of the preceding memoir, he was enabled t'>
snjierintend the education of the latter, and give a
direction to his jihysiological and moral studies.
Having adopted the legal profession. George Combe
became a writer to the signet in 1S12. and continued
with undivided attention to follow this occupation;
when, in 1816, an event occurred that gave his
mind a new bias. In that year Dr. Spur/heim
visited Scotland, and by his lectures and conversa-
tions on ]ilirenology not only aroused th.c public
attention, but the public astonishment. Men were
taught that not merely the intellectual character w.-.s
dimly indicated ujion the forehead of each in'iiv;.!ual.
but all his([ualities — intellectual, moral, ami pliy-;c.'I
— mapped out one by one over tlie wImIc re^!"!i < .
iiis skull; and that he' thus CP.rrieil aVioui with l.ini h'-
character written in letters about which iliere i<>\\.\
neither be suspicion nor controversy. Like iiVi".yoi
his considerate countrvmen, (ie^n^e (l■nl^e.-.• t:r-i
was hard of belief, aiid regarlei both t!ie -y-tem
and its advocate with aver-ior.: In;; t-.-.rtlv.r irMjuiry
removed his ]irejudices, and c-nvir.ced hiir. \\\?.\ th.-;
startling theory had fact tor it- ba-i-. He bee.iiiie
not only a believer in tlie initli 'it' jhrer.' ■!' 'gy, but
its ardent, eloquent, diMiitere-te 1 e\!'w~.tor; an 1
continued with tlie earne~tne-s of p.-i aj-.i^tle to ex-
pound its doctrines, utitil he b.ad ir.aier. eonsideralile
number of inlluential cjiivert-, ^.^i wh.^m he was the

25

;S6

GEORGE COMBE

ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE.

recognized leader and head. Nor was this a situa-
tion with which a merely ambitious man would have
been contented; for in hard-headed and orthodox
Scotland, phrenology was regarded not only as a
monstrosity in science, but a heresy in religion.
lie persevered, however, until society was persuaded
to listen to its claims, and acknowledge that they
were neither ridiculous nor atheistical.

The life of Combe was henceforth bound up in
the science which he so devotedly loved. Mainly
through his exertions it lived and flourished in Scot-
land for the day, until it was superseded by new
opinions; and during the period of its ascendency,
it materially influenced those systems of moral and
psychological investigation which still refused to
recognize it as an authority and guide. In his
Phrenological Hall, Clyde .Street, Edinburgh, which
was stored with a choice collection of casts of heads,
he held meetings of the society, and delivered pub-
lic lectures on phrenology; he originated and con-
ducted the Phrenological yoiinial, which continued
from 1824 to 1847, and extended to twenty volumes,
himself contributing many articles to the series; and
he delivered many successful courses of lectures, not
only in various parts of the United Kingdom, but
also in America and Germany. But his numerous
writings were still more influential than his lectures,
from the popularity they acquired and tlieir influence
on the public mind. The first of these was his
Essays on Phrenology, published in 1819, after he
had become a thorough convert to the system. Five
years afterwards he j^ulilished his System of Phreno-
logy, which went through five editions, and was
translated into German and French. In 1828 he
l)ublished the most important of his works, entitled
The Constittition of Man considered in Relation to
External Objects, being an attempt to demonstrate tlie
essential harmony of the nature of man with the sur-
rounding world ; and the consequent necessity of study-
ing the laws of nature, in order that we may realize the
advantages of the external world, lessen our exposure
to its evils, and carry out successfully our physical,
social, and moral improvement. Of this work, which
so materially influences many of the systems of physi-
cal and social reform advocated in the present day,
nearly 100,000 copies were sold in Britain, numerous
editions were printed in America, and it was trans-
latcil into French, German, and .Swedish. Besides
these works he wrote the following : Elements of
I'hrenology, 1S24; Lectures on Popular Education,
1833; •'^'"/''■f cf his Jixperioices in Germany and
America; Lectures on Moral I'hilosophy, 1840; LJfe
and Correspondence of A ndreiv Combe, M.D., 1850;
Principles of Criminal Legislation and Prison Dis-
cipline, 1854; Phrenology applied to Painting and
Sculpture, 1 855; and 'J'he Currency Question con-
sidered in Relation to the Bank Restriction Act, 7 and
8 Victoria, c. 32, 1855. Tlie latest of his works,
entitled The Relation betiveen Science and Religion,
which he ])ublished in 1857, eloquently inculcates
and earnestly enforces the duty and advantage of
obedience to the precej)ts of natural religion.

With all this traveUing, lecturing, and authorship
upon his favourite science and thesui)jccts connecteil
with it, which of themselves might have been sufli-
cient for a long and active life, .Mr. Combe continue<l
to 1837 a practical man of business, and was devoted to
his profession as a writer to the signet. Asaciti/.en,
he also entered fully into the public cpiestions of llie
day, and took an active part in the suiijectsof parlia-
mentary reform, the abolition of the corn-laws, and
the establishment of a system of national education
in which every sect and jiarty might coalesce. In
1833 he married Cecilia, daughter of the celebratetl

Mrs. Siddons, by whom he was survived. His o\v'n
death occurred on the 14th August, 1858, his regular
living and temperate habits having carried a delicate
constitution onward to that age of threescore and
ten years which forms the usual boundary even of
the most vigorous and robust. His large collection
of books on the subject of phrenology has been
deposited in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh.

CONSTABLE, Archibald, an eminent piflj-
lisher, was born, February 24, I77^> ^t Kellie, in the
county of Fife, where his father, Thomas Constable,
acted as overseer to the Earl of Kellie. After re-
ceiving a plain education at the school of his native
parish (Carnbee), he became, in 1788, apprentice to
Mr. Peter Hill, bookseller in Edinburgh, the friend
and correspondent of Robert Burns. About the time
of the expiration of his apjjrenticeship, he married
the daughter of Mr. Davicl Willison, printer, who,
though averse to the match, was of some service in
enabling him to set up in business for himself This
latter step he took in the year 1795, opening a shop
on the north side of the High Street, near the cross,
and devoting h-mself at first chiefly to the sale of old
books connected with .Scottish history and literature.
In this line of trade he speedily acquired considerable
eminence, not so much by the extensiveness of his
stock, for his capital was very limited, as by his per-
sonal activity, agreeable manners, and the intelli-
gence with which he applied himself to serve the
wants of his customers. At an early period of his
career his shop was resorted to by Mr. J. G. Dalzell,
Mr. Richard Heber, Mr. Alexander Campbell, Mr.
(afterwards Dr. ) AlexanderMurray, Dr. Jolm Leyden,
Mr. Walter Scott, Mr. Thomas Thomson, and other
young men possessed of a taste for Scottish literary
and historical antiquities, for some of whom he
published works of no inconsiderable magnitude,
previously to the close of the eighteenth century.
In 1801 he acquired the property of the Scots Maga-
zine, a venerable repertory of historical, literaiy, and
archaeological matter, upon which he employed the
talents of Leyden, Murray, Macneil, and other
eminent men in succession, though without any
considerable increase to its reputation. In the pre-
ceding year he had commenced the Earmer^s Alaga-
zine, under the management of an al)le East Lothian
agriculturist, Mr. Robert Jirown, then of Markle:
this work, which ap])eared quarterly, for many years
enjoyed a considerable degree of prosperity, but
eventually droojjcd with the class to wliom it ap-
pealed, and sank with the house of the ]iul)lisher.

The small body of ingenious and learned persons
who, in 1 802, originated the Lldinburgli Reviciv,
placed it under the commercial management of Mr.
Constable, who, though unprejjared for the great
success which it experienced, was not long in per-
ceiving the high merits of its conductors, and acting
towards them in an npiiro]iriately liberal manner.
The business of publishing this great work remained
with him for twenty-four years. In 1804 he com-
menced \\\iiJulinbtirgh I\h\lical and Surgical Journal,
which remained wiili him till 1826. It wa.s through-
out a successful publication. In 1805 he ]iublished,
in conjunction with Longman & Co. of London, the
first original work of .Sir Walter Scott, The Lay oj
the Last Ministrel, the success of w hicli was also far
Ijcyond his ex]iectations. In the ensuing year he
issued a beautiful edition of what he termed 'J'hc
Works of Walter Scott, E.s(]., in five volumes, com-
l^rising the ])()em just mentioned, the "Minstrelsy of
the l^cottish Border," ".Sir Tristrem," and a series of
lyrical pieces. Notwitlistanding the success of the
Lay of the Last Minstrel, Mr. Constable was looked

ARCHIBALD CONSTADLE.

387

upon as a hold man when, in 1807, he offered Mr.
Scott ;^lOOO fur a poem which was afterwards
entitled Marmion. Such munificence was quite a
novelty in the publishing trade of Scotland, and
excited some attention even in a part of the island
where literary affairs had heretofore been conducted
on a larger scale. Not long after the appearance of
this poetical romance, Mr. Constable and his partner
had a serious difference with its illustrious author,
which lasted till 1813, although in the interval he
edited for them the works of Swift, as he had pre-
viously those of Dryden. An enumeration of the
many valuable books which were afterwards pub-
lished by the subject of this memoir, would be out
of place in the present work; but the mention of a
few, such as Mr. J. P. Wood's excellent edition of
Douglas' Scotlish Peerage, Mr. G. Chalmers' Cale-
donia, the Edinburgh Gazetteer in six volumes, the
IVtilosophical Works of Mr. Dugald Sleivart, and the
Supplement to the Encyclopicdia Britaitnica (the stock
and copyright of which work he purchased in 1812),
will be sufficient to suggest a career far transcending
in enterprise and brilliancy anything of the kind ever
known in Scotland. In 1804 Mr. Constalile had
assumed as partner Mr. Alexander Gibson Hunter,
of Blackness, and from that time the business was
carried on under the designation of Archibald Con-
stable and Company. A few years afterwards, when
the concerns of the house had become very exten-
sive, Mr. Constable thought it a hardship that so
much of his wares should pass through tlie hands of
an English agency, who at once absorbed a con-
siderable share of his profits, and could not j^rofess
to promote his interest with so much zeal as their
own. lie and his Edinburgli partner therefore
joined, December, 1808, with Mr. Charles Hunter
and Mr. John Park, in commencing a general book-
selling business in London, under the designation of
Constable, Hunter, Park, and Hunter. This specu-
l.ition, however, being found to be unattended with
the expected advantages, was given up in 181 1. In
the early part of this year Mr. A. G. Hunter retired
from the Edinburgh house, on which occasion Mr.
Constable, acting on the liberal view which he
usually took of the value of his stock, and perhaps
not unwilling to impress the world with an exalted
idea of his prosperity, allowed to his partner a
greater amount of actual cash (_,^i 7,000 is understood
to have been the sum paid) than what was justly
his due. Mr. Robert Calhcart of Drum, writer to
the signet, and Mr. Robert Cadell, then a clerk in
.Mr. Constable's shop, were assumed in Mr. Hunter's
place, and the firm still continued under the designa-
tion of Archibald Constable and Company. Mr.
Cathcart being carried off after a few days' illness in
November, 1 81 2, Mr. Cadell remained Mr. Con-
stable's sole partner.

Mr. Constable and his partner ]iubli>hcd, after
1S13, all the ]i<ietical works of .Sir Walter Scott, and
the whole of his jirose fictions (excepting the first
series of the Tales of My Landlord) down to the year
1S26. The vast amount of lucrative business arising
from these publications, and others of nearly equal
popularity and importance, jiroduced in the subject
of tliis memoir the sincere though erroneous convic-
tion that he was a prosjicr'His, and in one respect a
wealthy man. He had never, it is true, jio.-sessed
much free capital; he had scarcely ever known what
it was to be exempt from diiTiculties for ready money;
yet he could calculate for certain on the productive-
ness of several of his more important speculations,
and he every day saw around him such a large and
increasing amount of stock, that nctliiiig less than
the demonstration of fi 'urcs could have L:iven him

greater assurance of his affluent condition. That
demonstration unfortunately was wanting. Mr.
Constable was no arithmetician. His mind was one
of those which delight in forming lofty enterprises
and ambitious schemes, but are too much engrossed
with the glories of the ultimate object, to regard
much the details by which it is proposed to l>e ac-
complished. For very many of his publication.s, the
literary labourer was greatly overpaid; in most cases,
he printed a much larger imjiression than was neces-
sary, or, if the demand came nearly up to the supply,
the benefits of success were lost upon an undemandcd
second edition. He had a magnificent way of trans-
acting every kind of business, .seeming in general
less to regard the merits of the matter in hand, tiian
the dignity of his name and profession. Proceeding
in this manner rather like a princely patron of
letters, than a tradesman aiming at making them
subservient to his personal interest, Mr. Constable
was easily led into a system of living greatly beyond
his real means, and from which tiie pressure <)f no
embarrassments, however severe, could awaken him.
Another error, to which the steps were perhaps as
natural and easy, was his yielding to the desires of
his friend Sir Walter Scott for money, and the
means of raising money, as a fore-payment of literarj-
labour. Both men were in some degree intoxicated
by the extraordinary success they had met with in
their respective careers, which seemed to assure them
against the occurrence of any real difficulty in any of
the processes of worldly affairs; and, mutually sup-
porting their common delusion, they launched without
rudder or compass into an ocean of bank credit, in
which they were destined eventually to perish. The
reverence of the publisher for the author was not
greater than was the confidence of the author in
"the strong sense and sagacious calculations" (his
own words) of the publisher. I5oth afterwards dis-
covered that they had been in a great measure wrong,
as even the works of a .Scott could only produce a
certain sum, while the calculations of Mr. Constable,
though bearing the impress of an ardent and generous
temperament, were not conducted upon those ndes
which alone will insure good results in conmicrcial
affairs. It is painful to reflect on the change \\hich
adversity brought over the mutual sentiments of
these distinguished men. Mr. Constable lived to
lament on a deathbed the coldness which the results
of his bankrujitcy had introduced into the mind of
his former friend, and to conq)lain (whether ju>lly or
not) that, if he had not been so liberal towards that
friend, he might have still known prosperity, .'^ir
Walter, on the other hand, lived to suffer the jxain of
pecuniary distress in consequence of the loose cal-
culations of himself and his ])ublisher, and to enter-
tain in his benevolent and tranquil mind, so changed
a feeling regarding that individual, as prevented him
from paying the common respect of a friend to his
remains, when, in the hour (*f calamity and scrrLiW.
they were transferred to the grave.

>Ir. Constable had in early life cntertaineti hteiary
aspirations only less ambitious than th -e li_\' ^^hich
he distinguished himself in cummcrcial li!e. 'I Ivugh
wanting the advantages of an acadeniicTl educaiifn,
he wrote his own language tlueiitly niid ciiieclly.
Scottish antiquities formed the dep.irtment in \\\\\C\\
he desired to exert himself, and tlie ] i\-ei;t writer
has heard him, amidst the jre^-ing cire^ ■ ■: bi>;nes>.^
express a touching regret fT the noii-lultiln-.ent i>!
the hopes which he oiue eiiteit.iined in reteience 1"
this favourite stui'y. I'ruui re-peet f t h;.- l.terary
abilities, Mi-s Seward l>eq-ieatl;ed to liim lier whole
corresjiondence, in llie exiecM'.ion \\\'X l;e v.-iild
personally undertake the du'.y of editor; a ta;k, how-

3S3

ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE-

GEORGE COOK.

ever, for which he found it necessary to employ a
substitute, in the person of Mr. Morehead. The
only literary efforts of Mr. Constable which have
ever been ascertained, consist in the editing of La-
moni's Diary in 1810, and of a compilation of The
Poetry contained in the Waverley No'oels, and the
composition of a small volume which appeared in
1S22, under the title of '''■Memoir of George Iferiot,
Jex'eller to King 'fames, containing an account of the
Hospital founded by him at Edinburgh." Having
become a widower in 1S16, Mr. Constable in 1S18
married Miss Charlotte Xeale, who survived him.
Li the early part of 1S22 he was obliged, by a due
regard to his physical and mental energies, to reside
for some months in England. It may also be men-
tioned among the ])articulars of his life, that in 1S23,
though professedly a Whig in politics, he was in-
cluded by the liberal policy of tlie government in a
list of nevv justices of the peace for the city of Edin-
burgh. In the same year he removed from the
warehouse he had occupied for nearly thirty years in
the High Street to an elegant mansion adjacent to
the Register House, in the new town, which had
become his own by purchase from the connections
of his second marriage.

In the year 1825 Sir. Constable projected perhaps
the most remarkable of all his undertakings — A
Miscellany of Original and Selected Works in Litera-
ture, Art, and Science, which he designed to publish
in small _/<M(-/r//// at one shilling, every three consti-
tuting a volume. Having marked the tendency to-
wards a system of cheap popular reading whicli was
at tliis time very observable in the public mind and
in the bookselling business, he had resolved to take
advantage of the irresistible impulse for the repro-
duction of some of his best copyrights; calculating
securely that these, especially if mixed up with new
productions from the pens of the best modern writers,
would ajjpropriate a large share of the patronage
extended by the people to chea]5 works, while the
va.».t sale that might be expected as a consequence of
their humble price, could not fail to afford an ample
remuneration to all concerned. The design was one
wortiiy, in its daring novelty and its liberal promise,
of a publisher who, in almost all his enterprises, had
shown a comprehensiveness of mind above his
fellows. Nor can it i)e doubted that, if carried into
execution with the whole powers of tlie original
house, and the prestige which the name of Constable
now carried to every British ear, it would have met
with a success more than sufficient to redeem the
fortunes of the establishment. Unfortunately the
commercial distresses whicli marked the close of 1825
ojjeratcd unfavourably upon a London firm, with
which .Archibald Constable and Company were inti-
mately connected, and at the close of the January of
the ensuing year bith were com]X'lled to stop pay-
ment. The debts of tlie latter house were understood
to be about a quarter of a million, for a considerable
part of which .Sir Walter Scott unfortunately stood
respon-.ible. The stock in which the subject of this
memoir was wont to contemplate an immense fund
of dormant wealth, was consequently se(juestere<l,
and its real value (es])ecially on a i)ereniptory sale)
being very different from the a[)parent, it sufficed to
discharge but a small part of the existing oljligations.

Mr. Constable, who at this time had tlie young
family arising from his second marriage s|iriiiging u|)
around him, now retired into comparative ]irivacy,
to experience the usual fate of those whom fortune
has suddenly deserted. Most of liis friends having
suffered considerably by his bankruptcy, and being
deeply impressed with a sense of llie im|irudence
which had led to that event, paid him no longer any

regard, though, while his fortunes lived, they would
have given "fifty, nay, an hundred ducats for his
portrait in little." Notwithstanding these painful
circumstances, to which was soon arlded a return of
some dropsical ailments which had formerly afflicted
him, he resolved to make an endeavour for the sup-
port of his family, by commencing, though with
material restrictions of plan, the Miscellany which
had formerly been announced. Having made the
necessary arrangements with the trustee upon the
sequestered estate, he issued the first number late in
the year 1826, being the beginning of a reproduction
of Captain Basil Hall's I'raTels, which that gentle-
man, with a kindness worthy of his distinguished
abilities, had conferred as a present upon the veteran
publisher. Though unable now to command all the
copyrights and new productions which he originally
contemplated, he succeeded in calling around him
some of the rising talent of the day, and would in
all probability have soon been once more engaged
in an extensive and enterprising course of business,
if death had not stepped in to claim his part. Mr.
Constable grad'ially sank under his dropsical ailment,
and on the 21st of July, in the year just named,
breathed his last at his house in I'ark Place, in the
fifty-second year of his age. Mr. Constable was of
middle stature, and, in his latter years, of somewhat
unwieldly bulk; his countenance, a fair index to his
mind, displayed lineaments of uncommon nobleness
and beauty.

COOK, Rev. George, D.D. This learned di-
vine and ecclesiastical historian was born at St. An-
drews in 1773. His education was conducted at the
schools and colleges of his native city, at that time dis-
tinguished for its high literary character and the emi-
nent men it produced, while his subsequent career fully
showed how well he had availed himself of such op-
portunities of mental improvement. From the early
period of boyhood the studies of George Cook had
been directed towards the church, in which his family
had considerable influence; and at the age of twenty-
two he was ordained minister of Laurencekirk, Kin-
cardineshire. On settling down into such a tranquil
residence, the young divine did not resign himself
either to rural indolence or literary epicurism; on the
contrary, his studies were of the most laborious, in-
defatigable character, as well as directed to the
highest interests of his sacred profession; and it was
while minister of Laurencekirk that he producc<l
most of those works by which his fiime was extended
over the world of ecclesiastical literature. As an
author, his first work, published in 1808, was Jlltis-
trations of the General F.vidence establishing Christ's
Resurrection. His next, in 1811, was the LLstory of
the Reformation, the most jxipular of all his works,
until it was ccli])sed by the more attractive ]iroduc-
tions upon the same subject at a later period, and by
writers possessing more ample opportunities of in-
formation, of whom we need scarcely mention the
name of I)','\ubigiie. After this work on gener.-il
ecclesiastical history. Dr. Cook turned his attention
to that part of it wliich concerned his own church and
country, and ))ublislied, in 1815, the History of the
Ch/irch of Scot/and from the Reformation to the Rerv-
liitio)! — a work in which the research was of the
most trying character, so many of tlie materials l)cing
at tjiat time in obscure, moth-eaten maiui>cri])t,
which have since been jirinted mainly through the
public spirit of our antiquarian societies. In 1820
appeared his Lfe of Principal Jhll, and in 1822 his
Vic'v of Christianity.

The learning anrl talent dis]ilayed in lliese works.
as well as the important subjects which they illus-

GEORGE COOK

THOMAS COUTTS.

trated, and the high interests which they were de-
signed to advance, naturally brought Dr. Cook into
the front rank of the most talented of his clerical
brethren, and in church courts his opinions ob-
taine 1 that ascendency to which they were so justly
entitled. To these also were added the highest
honorary distinctions which our primitive national
church, so jealous of the doctrine of Presbyterian
parity, reluctantly accords to the most favoured of
her children. Thus, in 1825, he was moderator of
the General Assembly, and in the following year he
was appointed a member of the royal commission
for examining into the state of our Scottish univer-
sities. He was also appointed dean of the order of
the Thistle, and one of his majesty's chaplains.

On the death of Dr. Inglis, which occurred in
1834, the leadership of his party in the church, which
tiiat eminent divine had so ably conducted, was by
universal choice conceded to Dr. Cook. Always a
situation of difficulty and trouble, even in the most
quiescent periods of our church's history, it was pecu-
liarly so at the present crisis; for the Moderate party,
which Dr. Cook headed, and that for so long a period
had been in the ascendency, had now lost its prestige;
and the Kvangelical portion of the church, already
increased from a handful into an army, and backed
by the popular suffrage, which had always inclined
to it since the days of the solemn league and covenant,
was advancing with all the energy of a newly resusci-
tated cause, and giving certain promise that at no
distant day it would recover its former superiority.
Against such an onward tide it was not wonderful if
Dr. Cook and his brethren were unal)le to make
luad, although they struggled bravely and to the last.
Consistently with the principles which he had adopted
from the beginning, and advocated on every occasion,
both as an author and a divine, Dr. Cook could not
be expected to sympathize with the opposite party in
their claims for the abolition of patronage, and the
entire exem])tion of tlie church from state control, and
accordingly he contested every inch of ground with
a zeal and honesty equal to their own. At length
the result took him as completely by surjirise as it
did the wisest politicians and profoundest calculators
of the day. Tiie memorable iSlh of May, 1843,
occurred, on which the disruption of tlie Kirk of
Scotland took place, and when, after it hafl been
confidently asserted that not even twenty ministers
would abandon their livings, nearly 500 rose from
their places in the General Assembly and bade a final
farewell to the Established Church. It was a melan-
choly spectacle, a stunning blow to the upright affec-
tionate heart of the leader of the Moderates. The
labours of his past pulilic life were thus destroyed by
a single stroke, and while history recorded the calami-
tous event, he must Iiave guessed that it would rc-
j^roach him as one of the chief causes of the evil.
And besides, in that dejiarting train, whose self-sacri-
ficing ilevotedness he was well disposed to acknow-
ledge, how many were there whom he had revered
for their commanding talenis, and loved for their
]>iety ancl worth, but who were now lost ff)r ever
to the church with which he was identified, and
whom he must henceforth meet or jiass by as the
ministers of a rival and hostile cause! Such to Dr.
Cook was the di--ru]ition; and although his own
]iarty exonerated him from blame, while his church
still continued as liefore to be directed by his coun-
sels, the rest of his life was clouded by the recollec-
tion of an event which the best men, whether of the
Free or Established Chr.rcli, will never cease to
regret.

The latter years of Dr. Cook's life were spent at
St. Andrews, as he had been appointed to the chair

of moral philosophy in its university, in the room of
Dr. Chalmers, when the lattc-r wa-^ called to Edin-
burgh. Here his end was sudden, his death having
been instantaneous, and occasione<i by the rupture of
a blood-vessel while he was walking in the Kirk
Wynd, on his way to the college library. This melan-
choly event occurred on the forenoon of the 13th of
May, 1845.

COUTTS, Thomas, who long moved at the head
of the monied and banking interest of the metropolis,
was the fourth and youngest son of John Coutts,
originally of Dundee, and afterwards of Edinburgh,
where he held the office of chief magistrate in 1743.
The mother of Mr. Coutts was a daughter of Sir
John Stuart of Allanbank, in Berwickshire, who was
the maternal grandson of Miss (iri/.el Cochrane,
daughter of Sir John Cochrane, the associate of
Russell and Sidney in their project for liberating
IJritain from the tyranny of the last .Stuarts. Ol
this lady, great-great-grandmother to Mr. Coutts,
the following anecdote has been related by her rela-
tion, the Earl of Dundonald : —

"Sir John Cochrane, being engaged in Argyk's
rebellion against James IE, was taken i)risoner after
a desperate resistance, and condemned to be hanged.
His daughter having noticed that the death-warrant
was expected from London, attired herself in men's
clothes, and twice attacked and robbed the mails
(betwixt Berwick and Belford) which conveyed the
death-warrants ; thus, by delaying the execution,
giving time to Sir John Cochrane's father, the Earl
of Dundonald, to make interest with EatHer I'etre,
(a Jesuit), King James' confessor, who, for the .-um
of ^5000, agreecl to intercede with his royal master
in behalf of Sir John Cochrane, and to procure his
pardon, which was effected.''

Mr. Coutts was bom about the year 1731. His
father carried on the business of a general merchant,
and estal)lishcd the bank which has since attained
such distinguished respectability under the auspices
of i^ir William Forbes and his descendants. An
elder son, James, entered into partnership v.-ith a
banking house in St. Mary Axe, Eomion, which
corres]3onded with that of John Coutts and C<-).,
I'^dinburgh. Sulisequently Thomas Coutts, the si:b-
ject of the present memoir, entered al-o irito tb.at
house. He then became jiartner with liis brother
of a banking house in the Strand, which had long
been carried on under the title of Middleton and
Campbell; and finally, on the death of hi- brother,
in 177S, he became the sole manager of this exten-
sive concern.

Mr. Coutts possessed the acconi]ilishnier.;s and
manners of a gentleman; plain but fashionable in
his dress; sedate in his deportment; ]iunctu.-J and
indefatigable in business even to a very ai;\.incLd
age. His great ambition through life v.r.s t<'e-taii-
lish his character as a man of busir.ess. ai -i h-j
certainly obtained such a reputation in ils> rc-iiect
as few men have enjoyed. Instances are rc:.itvl i^t
his refusing to overlook a s:i\:;le ] eiiriv ;n aci ^ ■•.::"/i-
even with those friends to wlvni he v..-.- i:] l.;e
habit of dispensing his lMs|~i'a!ity v.::,; t.;e r.."-t
liberal hand. Witii such fp;al;fic.-.:i":";-. r.r; : ! '.e-~ed
with length of days beyor.d tlie ii-r.,'! -: .-.;i "1 Iz-nnan
life, it is not surprising ii.at he ae^. ■.•.;:■'-!_ :ni!nei;se
wealth, and j)!ace<i linn-ch' at ;l;e lea^; ■ : t.;.-.: im-
portant class to wl-.ich lie liel' ■n,L;e'i. N J wa- he
exclusively a man ol Ini-incss : lie er.-ive . t.ie s' e;ety
of literarv men in a h;.,'h <!e_;ree, ai; i v.a- o-tm-
guished f'.r liis ta-te in thcatriea'.-. He w.i, ai-u n
liberal di-] enser -!'h> wea'/Ji •..' -.lie 1 ■> r.

Mr. Cuutts was twice niarrici :— first to >usan

390

JAMES CRAIG JOHN CRAIG.

Starkie, a female servant of his brother James, by
whom he had three daughters — Susan, married in
1796 to George Augustus, third Earl of Guildford;
Frances, married in 1800 to John, first Marquis of
Bute; and Sophia, married in 1793 to Sir Erancis
Burdett, Bart. About three months after the de-
cease of his first wife, which took place in 1815, he
married Harriet Mellon, an actress of some distinc-
tion in her profession, whom he constituted, at his
death, sole legatee of his immense property, consist-
ing of personals in the diocese of Canterbury sworn
under ^6oo,ooo, besides considerable real estates in
lands, houses, &c., and the banking establishment
in the Strand. This lady afterwards became by
marriage Duchess of St. Albans, and, by her acts
of beneficence, proved herself not unworthy of the
great fortune which she had acquired. Mr. Coutts'
death took place at his house in Piccadilly, February
24th, 1822, about the ninetieth year of his age.

CRAIG, James, M.A., was born at Gilford in
East Lothian, in 1682, and educated in the univer-
sity of Edinburgh. He was first minister at Yester,
in his native county; then at Haddington; and finally
at Edinburgh, where he was very popular as a
preacher. While in the first of these situations, he
wrote a volume of Divine Poems, which have gone
through two editions, and enjoyed at one time a
consitlerable reputation. In 1732, when settled in
Edinburgh, he published Sermons, in three volumes
8vo, chiefly on the principal heads of Christianity.
He died at Edinburgh in 1744, aged sixty-two.

CRAIG, John, an eminent preacher of the Re-
formation, was born about the year 1512, and had
the misfortune to lose his father next year at the
battle of Flodden. Notwithstanding the hardships
to which this loss subjected him, he obtained a good
education, and removing into England, became
tutor to the children of Lord Dacre. Wars arising
soon after between England and Scotland, he re-
turned to his native country, and became a monk of
the Dominican order. Having given some grounds
for a suspicion of heresy, he was cast into prison; but
having cleared himself, he was restored to liberty; and
returning to England, endeavoured, by the influence
of Lord Dacre, to procure a place at Cambridge, in
whicli he was disappointed. He then travelled to
France; and thence to Rome, where he was in such
favour with Cardinal Pole, that he obtained a place
among the Dominicans of Bologna, and was ap-
pointed to instruct the novices of the cloister. Being
advanced to the rectorate, in consequence of his
merit, he had access to the library; where, happen-
ing to read Calvin's /iisfitntes, he l)ecamc a convert
to the Protestant doctrines. \ conscientious regard
to the text in which Christ forbids his disciples to
deny him bef(jre men, induced Craig to make no
secret of this change in his sentiments ; and he was
consequently sent to Rome, thrown into a prison,
tried and condemned to be burned, from which fate
he was only saved by an accident. Po])e Paul 1\'.
having died the day before his intended execution,
the people rose tumultuously, dragged the statue of
his late holiness through tiie streets, and, breaking
open all the prisons, set the prisoners at lil;erty.
Craig immediately left the city ; and as he was
walking through the sul>urbs, he met a company of
banditti. One of these men, taking him aside, asked
if he had ever been in Bologna. On his answering
in the affirmative, the man inciuired if he recollected,
as he was one day walking there in the fields with
some young nol>lemcn, having administered relief to
a poor maimed soldier, who asked him for alms.

Craig replied that he had no recollection of such an
event ; but in this case the obliged party had the
better memory : the bandit told him that he could
never forget the kindness he had received on that
occasion, which he would now beg to repay by
administering to the present necessities of his bene-
factor. In short, this man gave Craig a sufficient
sum to carry him to Bologna.

The fugitive soon found reason to fear that some
of his former acquaintances at this place might de-
nounce him to the Inquisition ; and accordingly he
slipped away as privately as possible to Milan, avoid-
ing all the principal roads, for fear of meeting any
enemy. One day, when his money and strength
were alike exhausted by the journey, he came to a
desert place, where, throwing himself down upon
the ground, he almost resigned all hope of life. At
this moment a dog came fawning up to him, with a
bag of money in its mouth, which it laid down at his
feet. The forlorn traveller instantly recognized this
as "a special token of God's favour;" and picking
up fresh energy, proceeded on his way till he came
to a little village, where he obtained some refresh-
ment. He now bent his steps to Vienna; where,
professing himself of the Dominican order, he was
brought to preach before the emperor Maximilian
II., and soon became a favourite at the court of that
sovereign. His fame reverting to Rome, Pope Pius
HI. sent a letter to the emperor, desiring him to be
sent back as one that had been condemned for
heresy. The emperor adopted the more humane
course of giving him a safe-conduct out of Germany.
Reaching England about the year 1560, Craig heard
of the reformation which had taken place in his
native country; and, returning thither, offered his
services to the church. He found, however, that
the long period of his absence from the country
(twenty-four years) had unfitted him to preach in the
vernacular tongue, and he was therefore obliged for
some time to hold forth to the learned in Latin.'
Next year, having partly recovered his native lan-
guage, he was appointed to be the colleague of Knox
in the parish church of Edinburgh, which office he
held for nine years. During this period he had an
opportunity of manifesting his conscientious regard
to the duties of his calling, by refusing to proclaim
the banns for the marriage of the queen to Bothwell,
which he thought contrary to the laws, to reason,
and to the word of God. For this he was reproved
at the time by the council ; but his conduct was
declared by the General Assembly two years after
to have been consistent with his duty as a faithful
minister. About the year 1572 he was sent by the
General Assembly to preach at Montrose, "for the
illuminating the north ; and when he had remained
two years there, he was sent to Aberdeen to illu-
minate these dark places in Mar, Buchan, and
Aberdeen, and to teach the youth in the college
there." In 1579 Mr. Craig, being appointed min-
ister to the king (James VI.), returned to Edin-
burgh, where he took a leading hand in the general
assemblies of the church, being the compiler of ])art
of the Second Book of Discipline; and, what gives
his name its chief historical lustre, the writer of llie
National Covenant, signed in 1580 Ijy the king
and his household, and which was destined in a
future age to exercise so mighty an influence over
tiic destinies of the country.

John Craig was a very different man from the
royal chaplains of subsequent times. He l)oldly

1 His Latin discourses were delivered in .NLigdrilen's Chapel,
in the Cowgate, Kdinbiirgh; a curious old place of worship,
which still exists, and even retains in its windows part of the
stained glass which adorned it in Catholic times.

JOHN CRAIG — THOMAS CRAIG,

39 »

opposed the proceedings of the court when he
thought them inconsistent with the interests of reli-
gion, and did not scruple on some occasions to utter
the most poignant and severe truths respecting the
king, even in his majesty's own presence. In 1595,
being (juite worn out with the infirmities of age, he
resigned his place in the royal household, and retired
from public life. He died on the 4th of December,
1600, aged eighty-eight, his life having extended
through the reigns of four sovereigns.

CRAIG, John, an eminent mathematician, flour-
ished at the end of the 17th and the beginning of
the 18th centuries. The only circumstance known
respecting his life is, that he was vicar of Gillingham,
in Dorsetshire. The following list of his writings is
given in Watt's Bibliothcca Britannica: — iMethociiis
figuraruin, liiieis rcctis et ciintis coinprehensaruin :
quadraturas deter minandi. London, 1685, 4to. —
Iftetatits Mat/temadctts, de fi-^iirantm curTnliiicanim,
«S:c., et locis geometrkis. London, 1692, 1693,410. —
TheologiiC Christiame Prhtcipia Mathematica. Lon-
don, 1699, 4to. Reprinted, Leipsic, 1755- — ^^
Calculo Flueutitim, lib. ii., et de Optica Analytic a, lib.
ii. London, 1 718, 4to. — IVte Quantity of the Loga-
rithmic Ciirz'e ; translated from the Latin, Phil.
Trans. Abr. iv. 318. 1698. — Quantity of Figures
Geometrically Irrational. lb. 202. 1697. — Letter
containing Solutions of tioo Problems: I, on the Solid
of L.east Resistance; 2, the Cune of Quickest Descent.
lb. 542. 1701. — Specimen of determining the Quad-
rature of Figures. lb. v. 24. 1703. — Solution of
Bernouilli's Problem. lb. 90. 1704. — Of the Length
of Curve Lines. lb. 406. 1708. — Method of Making
L^ogarithins. lb. 609. 1 7 10. — Description of the
Head of a Monstrous Calf. lb. 668. 1712."

CRAIG, Thom.VS, author of the Treatise on the
Feudal Laxo, and of other learned works, was pro-
bably born in the year 1538. It is uncertain whether
he was the son of Robert Craig, a merchant in lidin-
burgh, or of William Craig of Cr.iigfmtry, afterwards
Craigston, in the county of .\berdeen. In 1552
he was entered a student of .St. Leonard's College,
in the university of St. Andrews, but docs not ap-
pear to have completed the usual course of four
years, as he left the college in 1555, after receiving
his degree as Bachelor of Arts. He then repaired
to France, and studied the civil and canon law in
some of the flourisiiing universities of that country.
On his return, about the year 1561, he continued
his studies under the superintendence of his relation,
John Cr.iig, the subject of a preceding memoir.
.\fter distinguishing himself in a very eminent degree
as a clas>ical scholar, he was called to the bar in
Febniary, 1563, and in the succeeding year was
placed at the head of the criminal judicature of tlie
country, as ju>tice-(lepate, under the hereditary
officer, the ju>tice-general, an honour vested in the
noble family of .\rgyle. Atnong his earliest duties
in this cajiacity, was that of trying and cc^ntlemning
Thomas Scott, slieriff-depute of Perth, and Henry
Yair, a priest, fir having kept the gates of Holy-
rood House, to facilitate the assa.->ination of Kizzio.
In 1566, when James VL was born, Craig, relaxing
from his severer studies at the bar, hailed the birtli
of the royal infant, and jiredicted the happiness
which such an event promi>ed to hi> un--i.-ttleil coun-
trv, in a Latin poem entitled iieitdhliacou Jacobi
Principis Scotorum. This, says Mr. Tytlcr, in his
elegant work. 'The Life of S:r 'Plioinas Craig, is a
l>oem of considerable length, written in hexameters,
and possessing many ]ia---ages not only highly de-
scriptive of the state of Scotland at this time, but in

themselves eminently poetical: it is to lie found in
the DelitiiC Poetarum Scotorum. "Craig," says Mr.
'iytler,. "appears to have l>een a man of a modest
and retiring disposition, averse to any interference
in the political intrigues of the times, devoted to his
profession, and fond (if that relaxation from the
severer labours of the bar, which is to be f^und in
a taste for classical literature. While his contem-
poraries are to Ik.- found perpetually imi)licated in
the conspiracies against their mistress' the queen, and
their names have come down to us cotitaminatcil by
crime, the character of this go<_Hl and ujiright niai'i
shines doubly pure amid the guilt with which it is
surrounded. Although a convert to the reformed
opinions, and from this circumstance naturally con-
nected with the party which opjjosed the queen, his
sense of religion did not c(jnfound or extinguish his
principles of loyalty. His name appears oidy in the
journal books of the court in the discharge of the
labours of his profession, or it is found in the justi-
ciary records under his official designation of justice-
dei)ute, or it is honourably associated with the litera-
ture of his country; but it is never connected with
the political commotions which the money and in-
trigues of England had kindled in the heart of our
nation." Craig pursued an extensive jiractice at the
bar for a period of upwards of forty years, and dur-
ing all that time his name is scarcely ever found
mingling with the political movements of the times.
During the later part of his career he devoted much
of his time to the composition of his learned Treatise
on the L'eudal Lau\ upon which his reputation prin-
cipally rests. To describe the law of our countrv',
as he found it established by the ]iractice of the
courts in his own age; to compare it with the written
books on the feudal law; and to impart to it some-
what of the form and arrangement of a science, de-
monstrating, at the same time, its congruity in its
fundamental principles with the feutlal law of Eng-
land, such were the objects of .'sir Thomas Craig in
this work, which he completed in 1603, a ])eriod
when it might have been of signal service, if pub-
lished, in removing some of the jirejudices which
stood in the way of a union between the two countries.
The treatise, which was written in a vigorous Latin
style, was not, however, ])ut firth to the world till
forty-se\"en years after the death of the learned author.
The enlarged and liberal mind of Sir Thomas
Craig rendered him a zeahius promoter of every ob-
ject which tended to ]ireserve the mutual peace, or
facilitate the union of England. In Januar\-, 1603,
he finished a Treatise on the Succession, to fiirther tlie
views of his sovereign upon the throne about to be
vacated by the death of Elizabeth. This work wa-<
more immediately occasioned liy the celebrate<i ( cn-
fercnce on the Succession, written liy the Jesuit Par-
sons, under the assumed name of l)o]eni.-!.n, in which
the right of James VI. was contested in a ni.aiii;cr
ecjually able and virulent. The trer.t;-e oi ( r.T.g,
probalijy on account of the quiet siicces^i"n !>t Jaiiu^
a few mcMitlis after, \\as never --eiit t^ t!;c prc~-; 1'.::
an I'higlish translalinn of it w.is ] i:!ii;-!:c'i ;:i 1703
by P)r.'(;.:nlierer. How nnich ..f hi- :;::k- Cv.vg was
in the habit of dedicating tn t!ic Mi;-c- >; -e- 'mt a;.-
pear; but the yh:':.':.c /'-, .'..•iv./v ._^' ,.••.■.■ -v c intain-
another poem written by him "ii t'lc iie: .irti;:e if
his native monarch f:"in Ii iin'r.-,ivi!i. t'l t.ike ]i' '~~c~-
sion of his new king'l'iin 1)1 l.r.^i.ir.l. It i- e:'.t;'!e I
Ad Scrc!-:s::ntuii: c.' P ■::':::.::r::i": /'-.;;•/."/ f:-
col'um IP. c '-.•!: Sr'..: I >:: c.i -':":. l\:r.,Kc::::<l.
"This poein."savs Mr. TNtler, --i- l;;ghly character-
istic of the simple ai; 1 -cy'JxfcA c';.ir.x;cr -:' it- author.
While otlier and n'..'re ven.il b.^.r'.>_ e\!i.Vu--.ed their
iniaL:inat;o:i in the i:o:ii;>o-;t;'jn •:■{ tiv'-e enc.jn:;a;i:c

392

THOMAS CRAIG

WILLIAM CRAIG.

addresses, the incense commonly offered up to kings,
the Panencticon of Craig is grave, dignified, and
even admonitory. He is loyal, indeed, but his
loyalty has the stamp of truth and sincerity; his
praises are neither abject nor excessive; and in the
advices which he has not scrupled to give to his
sovereign, it is difficult which most to admire, the
excellent sense of the precepts, or the energetic lati-
nity in which they are conveyed." Craig also ad-
dressed a similar poem to Prince Henry, who ac-
companied his father to England.

It would appear that Craig either was one of those
who accompanied the king to England, or soon after
followed him ; as he was present at the entrance of
his majesty into London, and at the subsequent
coronation. He celebrated these events in a Latin
hexameter poem, entitled ^retpauocpopia, which is
neither the chastest nor the most pleasing of his
productions, although the richest in metaphorical
ornament and florid description. Craig was, in 1604,
one of the commissioners on the part of Scotland,
who, by the king's desire, met others on the part of
England, for the purpose of considering the possi-
bility of a union between tlie two countries. He
wrote a work on this subject, in which he warmly
seconded the patriotic views of the king. This
treatise, written, like all his other works, in Latin,
has never been published ; although, in point of
matter and style, in the importance of the subject to
which it relates, the variety of historical illustrations,
the sagacity of the political remarks, and the insight
into the mutual interests of the two countries which
it exhibits, it perhaps deserves to rank the highest of
all his works. The work upon which he appears to
have been last engaged is one upon the old contro-
versy respecting the homage claimed from Scotland
by the English monarch. The Dc Hominio of Craig
remained in manuscript till the year 1695, when a
translation of it was published by Mr. George Rid-
path, under the title, Scotland's Sovereignty Asserted,
or a Dispute concerning Homage.

Craig was, in the latter part of his life, advocate
for the church, and under that character was em-
ployed at the famous trial of the six ministers in
1606, on a charge of treason for keeping a General
Assembly at Aberdeen. He was perhaps vmfitted,
l)y his studious and modest disposition, to come
farther forward in public life. King James re-
peatedly offered him tlie honour of knighthood,
which he as constantly refused : he is only styled
".SV> Thomas Craig," in consequence of an order
from the king that every one should give him
the title. He had been married, in early life, to
Helen Heriot, daughter of the laird of Trabrown,
in East Lotliian, to wliicli family l)elonged the
mothers of two great men of that age, George IJu-
chanan and the first Earl of Haddington. By this
lady he had four sons and three daugiitcrs. Sir
Lewis Craig, the eldest son, who was horn in 1569,
was raised, at the age of thirty-four, to the l)encli,
where he took the designation of Lord Wriglils-
houses. As this was in the lifetime of his own
father, the latter had sometimes occasion to plead
before his son. A pleasing tradition regarding the
filial respect shown by .Sir Lewis is preserved in the
biographical sketch prefixed to the treatise De Feitdis.
The supreme judges in those days sat covered, and
heard the counsel who ])leadcd before them un-
covered. "Whenever," says his biogra])her, " liis
father appeared before him, Sir Lewis, as became a
j'ious son, uncovered, and listened to his parent with
the utmost reverence."

Another family anecdote of a very pleasing char-
acter is derived from the same source. Tlie father

of .Sir Thomas Craig had been educated in the
Roman Catholic religion. His son, whose studies
after his return from Erance were, as we have seen,
superintended by Mr. John Craig, the eminent re-
former, appears early and zealously to have embraced
the new opinions. The old man continued in the
faith of the Church of Rome till a late period of his
life; but, being at length converted by the unanswer-
able reasons which were incessantly, though rever-
entially, urged by his son, he became, to the great
joy of the subject of this memoir, a convert to the
tnie religion.

This great man died on the 26th of February,
1608, when, if we are right as to the date of his birth,
he must have attained his seventieth year.

CRAIG, William, a distinguished senator of
the College of Justice, and a large contributor to the
literary paper styled the Mirror, was the son of Dr.
William Craig, one of the ministers of Glasgow ; a
man of so much eminence that the editors of the
Biographia Britunnica thought proper to admit an
account of him, drawn up by Professor Richardson,
into their very select collection.^ The subject of the
present memoir was born in 1 745, and received his
education at Glasgow College, where he attended the
classes of Smith in moral philosophy and political
economy, and those of Miller in jurisprudence and
civil law. His acquirements were at an early period
very great, especially in the belles-lettres, and to a
less degree in history and metaphysics. He entered
at the bar in 1768, and was the contemporaiy and
intimate friend of some of the most distinguished
men of the last age. Robert Blair, afterwards lord-
president; Alexander Abercromby, afterwards Lord
Abercromby; along with Craig and some others,
held for some years a private meeting once every
week, for mutual improvement in their legal studies.
It is remarkable that, at the commencement of Mr.
Pitt's administration in 1784, Blair, Abercromby,
and Craig were appointed together to be depute-
advocates under Sir Hay Campbell, who was at the
same time nominated lord-advocate. Mr. Craig
held this office till 1787, when he was nominated
sheriff of Ayrshire. On the death of Lord Hailes,
in 1792, Mr. Craig was appointed to succeed him on
the bench, on which occasion he assumed the desig-
nation of Lord Craig. In 1795 he succeeded Lord
Henderland as a judge of the court of justiciary.

In the concluding number of the I^Iirror, which
appeared on the 17th of May, 1780, it is mentioned
that "the idea of publishing a periodical paper in
Edinl>urgli took its rise in a company of gentlemen
whom particular circumstances of connection brought
frequently together. Tiieir discourse often turned
uj)on subjects of manners, of taste, and of literature.
By one of those accidental resolutions of which the
origin cannot easily be traced, it was determined to
put their thoughts in writing, and to read them for the
entertainment of each other. Their essays assumed
the form, and soon after some one gave them the
name, of a periodical publication. The writers of
it were naturally associated ; and their meetings in-
creased the im]iortance, as well as tlie number, of
their productions. Cultivating letters in the midst
of business, composition was to them an amusement
only; tiial amusement was heightened by thcauflicnce
which this s(jciety afforded ; the idea of iiublication
suggested itself as productive of still higher enter-
tainment. It was not, however, without diffidence
tliat such a resolution was taken. Erom that and

1 I)r. Craig w.Ti author of .in Essay on the Life of Christ,
and of Twenty LHscoiirscs on various bubjccls.

WILLIAM CRAIG GEORGE LILLIE CRAIK.

393

several circumstances it was thought proper to ol)-
serve the strictest secrecy with regard to the authors;
a purpose in which tliey have been so successful,
that at tliis moment the very pubhsher of the work
knows only one of their number, to whom the con-
duct of it was intrusted."

It is now to be mentioned, upon the credit of the
sole survivor of the association above alluded to,
that the first idea of starting this periodical work
occurred to Mr. Craig, who, next to Mr. Mackenzie,
was the most zealous of them all in the cultivation of
the belles-lettres. Tiie remaining persons concerned
were Mr. Alexander Abercromby, of whom a memoir
lias been given in the present dictionary; Mr. Robert
CuUen, afterwards Lord CuUen; Mr. Macleod Ban-
natyne, afterwards Lord Bannatyne; Mr. George
Home, afterwards Lord Wedderburn, and one of the
principal clerks of session; Mr. William Gordon of
Newhall, and Mr. George Ogilvy, both also advo-
cates, but of whom the first died, and the latter fell
into bad health, before having made any contribution
to the Mirror. Mr. Mackenzie was the only in-
dividual unconnected with the bar. The association
was at first termed the Tabernacle; but when the
resolution of publishing was adopted, it assumed the
name of the Mirror Club, from the title of the pro-
jected paper. It was resolved to commit tlie busi-
ness of publishing to Mr. Creech, the well-known
bookseller, and the duty of communicating with him,
and of the general superintendence of the work, was
devolved on Mr. Mackenzie. The club used to meet
once a week, sometimes in one tavern, sometimes in
another, in order that their proceedings might be less
liable to the observation of their acquaintance. A
list of their haunts will tell strangely in the ears of
those who, thinking of the Mirror as the ])ink of
elegance in literature, might expect to find that every
circumstance connected with its composition was
alike elegant. The club met, for instance, sometimes
ill Clerihugh's, in Writer's Court; sometimes in
Somers's, opposite the Guardhouse in the Iligli
Street; sometimes in Stewart's oyster-house in the
(Jld Fish-market Close; and fully as often, perhaps,
in Lucky Dunbar's, a moderate and obscure house,
situated in an alley leading betwixt Forrester's and
Libberton's Wynd. On these occasions, a!iy member
who had written a paper since the last meeting, jiro-
duced it to be read and considered. But as a general
invitation had been held out for contributions from
])ersons not members of the club, and a box jilaced
at Mr. Creech's shop for receiving them, the paiicrs
s.") contributed, as well as those produced by tlie
members, were read over and considered, and a
sjlection made of those proposed to be adopted.
Among these occa-^ional contributors were several
indiviikials of great respectability, of whom we
niay mention Lortl Ilailes, I'mfessor Richardson of
Glasgow, l>r. Ilciiry, author of the History of Crea/
Bri/ain, and Mr. David Hume, afterwards one of
the barons of exchoi|uer. Some other papers of no
inconsiderable merit were supposed to be from
ladies. The Mirror was commenced on the 23d
of January, 177). and fi'ii--hed with the i loth number
on the 27th of M ly, 17S0. It ajipeared in one small
folio sheet, wliieh was sold at three halfpence, and
though not a!) 've kn\r hundred were ever sold of any
jiarticular number, the public approb.it^m was so
high as to demand the immediate repulilication of
the whole in three volumes du<-)decimo.

Mr. Craig's contributions to the Mirror, which
were the most numeroiis, next to tho-.e of .Mr.
Mackenzie, are indicatevl in a Liter edition of the
v.-ork.

To the Lounger, wliich was starte^l ^ume years j

after by the same club, he also contributed many
excellent papers.

Lord Craig, who possessed originally a very weak
constitution, cnj(jycd so poor a state of health in his
latter years as to Ix: obliged to resign his place on
the justiciary bench. lie died on the bth of July,
1813. The mental qualifications of this eminent
person were of a very high order. Although his
practice at the bar had never l>een very extensive,
he was much esteemed in his character as a judge,
his decisions being remarkable {or their clearness and
precision, while his habits were of a >ingularly in-
dustrious order, considering the state of his health.
In private life he was beloved on account of his
gentle, unassuming manners, and his eminently be-
nevolent and sociable disposition.

CRAIK, Gi:oRGE I.ii.i.ie, M.A., LL.D. A

life of this gentleman, if fully written, would, jiresent
an interesting picture of literary life in L<jndon,
under its most recent phases; and form a record of
successful struggle, in which high talent, persevering
energy, and moral rectitude could win their way
along a path so crowded with difficulties and defeats.
Dr. Craik was born at Kennoway, in the county
of Fife, in 1798. His father, the Rev. William
Craik, was first parish schoolmaster, and afterwards
minister of Kennoway; his mother, I'attersoii, was
daughter of Mr. Henry Lillie, farmer in the same
parish. He was the eldest of three brothers, tlie
second being the Rev. James Craik, D.D., of Glas-
gow, and the third the Rev. Henry Craik of Bristol.
Of the early life of the subject of this memoir we
know little, but it is evident that, even while a boy,
he must have been forming those hal)its of studious
application, and gathering those stores of general
knowledge for which he was afterw ards distinguish.ed
among his literary associates. Possessing also the
best of all inheritances in a virtuou? and intellectual
parentage, we are told, that from father and mother
he derived a remarkable combination of stren:,'h and
sweetness; great firmness of character, indoniitaijle
perseverance, and an almost fa>tidioiiS refinement.
"These qualities,'' the same authority truly adds,
"stamiied his individuality as a man quite a- nuich
as a man of letters, and cau-ed hint to exerci-e.
wherever he went, a large and ahidir.g ii.tluence
both social and moral."

After qualifying himself by a general Lngli-h edu-
cation and some knowledge of tlie ancient clas>ies.
George I,. Craik entered the univer>it}- of ."^t. .\n-
drews, and %\ent through the u>ual curri. i.iuiu 01
what are called the gown-clas>es, after \\liicii I'.e
became a stu<!ent of theology. ISut although l-.e
finished the usual course prescribed by tlie i.liurch.
he did not take liceii-e a> a i>reaeher. 1; is ] ro-
bal.)le that general literature h.Td n-.^re r.'.tr.xt:' •:.>
for him than the study of theology, nr.d tli.v. lie al-
ready fell the professi'in of an aut!;. r'.. 1 i- l.i- j r^j _.•
vocation. It a}'|'ears nlso that lel'Te l.> wil'.rge
career was ended, he had, like mr.r.y . ;!•.•. i .,-; ir.ig
students. jM-elu led in authordiq-. In IM'. \'.1kii_
only eigliteen years old. he began '" -■..;] ■ :: l.;r.i-eii
at college as a \\\'."X i:i } >ning' r s'.i. :. ;.: ~ ;!.■■:. l-.;:n-
self. and soon afterward^ he ^v,-.~ .■;•,' -x-.U ; e'lit^r
of a local new-] aper called the .^>--." fi. ::; 1S12.
when he entered the r.niveisity. r.M.i 1S2 •. v, '.en Ills
connection with ite'i'^el. lie !..'.! l.-.;!.-- : <;: r.iaiiy
college ho]). nus. aivl wa~ reg.ir^d 'y hi- kil.iu-
studJnts as a -ehoL-r .-f -:en: a::.;;;i:at :.:- :.\A vtry
sujierior intellectu.il p iv. eis. 1; w.i~ ni ^re imp. r-
taiit still that the i r 'il— r- u ere of ; he -anie -: ini'in;
and of the-e. Dr! ('Iialir.er-. in r. . o:-:.;;ier.';;rg him
to his fiieiv-l; in Gia- '-W, where Mr. Cra.k intended

394

GEORGE LILLIE CRAIK.

to deliver a course of lectures, wrote, among other
affect ionate eulogiums, "You cannot speak too
highly of him." In 1823 he married Jannette,
daughter of Cathcart Dempster, Esq., of St. An-
drews; and having thus the responsibilities of mar-
riage upon his head, without the intention of looking
forward to church preferment, he commenced active
life as a lecturer on poetry, a choice, which not only
his own taste, but the celebrity which Hazlitt had
previously won in Scotland by his lectures on the
poets, may probably have inspired. He delivered
a series of lectures accordingly in Glasgow, Dublin,
Belfast, and Liverpool; but soon found that, how-
ever adventurous or alluring, such an erratic course
was too uncertain and unprofitable for one who had
others than himself to support. He therefore went
to London, and settled dow-n to that systematic
course of literary occupation which he continued
until the close of his active and well-spent life.

The first years of Mr. Craik's career in the metro-
polis were such as a young literary adventurer
usually experiences. A few months or weeks suf-
fice to disjiel the imaginary halo that surrounds it.
However estimated in his own locality, he is nobody
in London until he is tried and tested anew. What-
ever be his talents he must step forth and show them,
as the search after modest merit in its murky con-
cealments is out of the question. And while the
French litterateur in his garret may hope to win
rank and political influence by his writings, and be-
come the leading man of the state, British author-
ship must reckon itself fortunate if, instead of a pre-
miership, it can only find a publisher. Even the
choice, too, of his subjects with a reference to his
own past studies, acquirements, and likings, he must
forego, as he is but a candidate in the literary
market, and can only hope to dispose of those wares
which for the present are in chief demand. Such is
the fate of the adventurer in London who seeks to
live by authorship as a profession: he must not only
throw aside the stock of MS. with which he hoped
to take the world by storm, but strip himself of his
very skin, and commence a new intellectual life.
It is by such a painful process, however, that the
enthusiastic aspirant finds he can become some-
thing better than a fourth-rate novelist or a fifth-
rate poet, and that after a course of stern experi-
ence he discovers the way in which he can best
succeed. Much of this was experienced by Mr.
Craik after he had settled himself in the great metro-
polis in 1S24. His lectures on poetry were not in
demand, and instead of controlling he must follow
the tide. He therefore laid himself out for such
chance work as might occur, and was rewarded for
his C('mi)!iance, although such engagements were
slow in coming, and scantily reniuneratcd. He
abandoned tiie imaginative for the more solid de-
partments of literature — politics, ethics, biography,
history, criticism — and fnuid in these the fittest ex-
ercise for his well-trained ]io\vers, and the best out-
let for his extensive general knowledge. ]5iit even
already, although so humbly employed and in
anonymous authorship, his worth began to be recog-
nized, and influential friends to gather round him,
whose esteem could console him amidst years of
poverty and privation, and ins|)ire him with the
lioj^e that better days awaited him.

The first regular literary engagement of Mr. Craik
tiiat promised to be permanent, was iti the I'lni/atn,
a weekly literary and scientific news|)aper, the literary
department of which he was ajipointed to conduct.
But this pajier, although su])ported by high jiatron-
age, anrl ably confiucted, did not meet the i)0])ular
taste, and was \cry soon abandoned. Such was the

fate of several publications of the period which in a
newspaper form were intended to be the vehicles of
substantial knowledge to the masses. They were the
earliest experiments among those attempts to popu-
larize the important truths of science and literature
by which the common people were to be enlightened,
before they could be reformed and elevated; but
where the readers, expecting a light lively news-
paper, were overwhelmed with scientific and political
lectures. It was an unpardonable disappointment,
and was resented accordingly. After the failure of
the Vcnihim, a dreary interval of precarious occupa-
tion succeeded, until the Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge had commenced; and Mr. Craik,
whose talents were already well known to the direc-
tors, and especially its distinguished president Lord
Brougham, was engaged as one of its chief contri-
butors. Soon after this society had commenced its
operations, he produced his J'lirsidt of Kiicmiledge
under Difficulties, a work so popular that its very
title became a liousehold word; and as it appeared
without the name of the author, conjecture was busy,
and the work was attributed for some time to the
most eminent literary personage of the day. His
next work, published in 1831 by the same society,
was Paris and its Historical Scenes, in two volumes,
and afterwards T/ie A'i'w Zealanders. These works,
published under the series of Entertaining Knoi.v-
ledge edited and published by Mr. Charles Knight,
brought him into close intercourse with that enter-
prising publisher, and Mr. Craik was extensively
engaged with the Penny Magazine and Penny Cyclo-
pedia, in the latter of which publications he was em-
ployed from its commencement to the close, contri-
buting to it some of its most valuable articles in
history and biography.

An entire history of England being still a desidera-
tum, had been some time under consideration, and it
was resolved that Henry's learned and able but
somewhat neglected work should be reproduced in
a better style, and the narrative continued to the
present day. Of this undertaking I\Ir. Craik was to
be editor, with proper coadjutors, and the attempt
was commenced in earnest; but before it had pro-
ceeded far onward, the difficulty of piecing new
materials into the original framework was found so
great, that it was judged better to produce an entirely
new work rather than attempt to rejiair and enlarge
the old. The old materials were therefore thrown
aside, and nothing of Henry retained but his plan of
iiistorical writing by separate divisions, which also,
in the present case, was subjected to considerable
changes and modifications. The result of this careful
deliberation was that highly pojudar work, The
Pictorial History of l-lngland — the first attempt after
that of the Rev. Dr. Henry to write a national his-
tory in all the different departments of a nation's
]ir()gress, which promises to introduce a new and
most important era in that department of authorship.
Of this difficult work, which commenced in 1839,
Mr. Craik was editor, and while he welded the dif-
ferent chapters of its contributors into one harmonicus
and consistent account — not always an easy or con-
ciliatory task — he princijially wrote the cha]iters on
"Religion," "Constitution," " Cjovernnient and
Laws," "National Industry and Literature," of each
successive period. I low well his task was discharged
l>olh as editor and contributor, the Pictorial Histoiy
itself gives sufficient evidence. His own contribu-
tions, enlarged and improved, were afterwards jiul;-
lishefl as separate works, in A'niglifs JP'eckly Volumes,
the first of which was entitled Sketches of the History
of Literature a)id /.earning in Jini^land from the
Xorinan Conquest to the Present Time, in six volumes,

GEORGE I.ILLIE CRAIK

DAVID CRAWFORD.

which were afterwards expanded into a still larj^cr
work, entilleil Ilutory of Eni^lish Literature atid the
English Laiii^nia^e, 1862. The second work, formed
from iiis chapters in the Pictorial History, and pub-
lished in the same series, was .'/ History of British
Commerce from the Earliest Times, 3 vols. 1844.
Besides these, he also published in Knii^hfs Weekly
Volutnes, Spenser ami his Poetry, 3 vols. 1845;
Paeon, his U'ntings, and his Philosophy, 3 vols.
1846; a conchuling volume of Pursuit of K'noic'ledi^e
under Difficulties, containin<j female examples only,
1847; and a work entitled Popular Tumults.

Without taking into account his numerous con-
tributions to the periodical literature of the day, the
research they occasioned, the careful deliberation
with which they were studied, and the fastidious
excellence that characterized their composition, Mr.
Craik, it will be seen, since his arrival in London
had been no remiss student. Gifted with an iron
constitution, it had been severely tasked, and the
variety of subjects which successively demanded his
study might well make him sigh for relief, even
though that relief should be nothing but a change of
labour. An author by profession, had tlie literature
in which he dealt been of that showy sensational
kind which arrests the mob of readers, and pleases
for the day, he might with half the toil have won
fortune at least, if not fame, and been able to retire
with a comjietence. But he had devoted himself to
the more solid and useful, and therefore less lucrative,
departments of his high vocation; and while other
writers were content to amuse the pul)lic, his ambi-
tion was to elevate and instruct it. Hence the very
moderate comjietence in the way of remuneration
which his toils could obtain for him at the best, and
the prospect that all tliis would cease when occuixa-
tion forsook him, and he w.as too weary to work.
But suftkient for the day is the evil thereof, and he
looked forward with his wonted cheerfulness and
energ)-. In the meantime he had won a reputation
worth living for, and a circle of friends who formed
a world worth living in; men, the most distinguished
in literature and science, wlio appreciated his high
talents, and loved him for his amialjle social quali-
ties. Nor was his benevolent disposition less re-
markable, and he was anxious to smooth for others
the way he had found so rough for himself. To
young litterateurs, therefore, he was always ready
with his advice and literary assistance, and often
with his purse too, even when his own resources were
by no means overflowing. And not merely as a
frien<I, companion, and counsellor, but as a husliand
and father, his kindly atfections were always alive,
and constantly welling forth.

I-'rom the wear and tear of such close application
and multifarious studies, Mr. Craik in 1S49 found
a welcome relief by being appointed professor of
English literature and history at (Queen's College,
lielf.i^t. "From this date," writes one who evidently
knew him intimately and loved him well, "his career
is identitied with that of the newly-founded university,
to which his ardent love of letters, his sound judg-
ment, and generous wisdom brought such large help
- — e(iually ai>]>reciated by both students and pro-
fessors. I'rol)ai)ly no college instructor was ever
more widely jiopular than Professor Craik; while his
genial qualities, hi^ really ai.d inexhau.--til)Ie memory,
and hi> profouuil knowle<lge of men and b >oks,
made him welcome in every society. .\t Belfast,
both within and without the college walls, his well-
known figure, hale and active, with the tlowing
white hair, clear blue eye, and mouth full of both
humour and sweetness, will be long mis'^ed and
vividly remenibcreJ.'' Although now comfortably

settled, and with a regular routine of occupation,
I'rofcssor Craik, instead of sinking into learned ease,
retained all his activity and love of authorship, so
that, when his course of lectures was prejiarcd, and
his work in full train, he resumed his active pen for
the press, and filled uj) his s])are time with fresh
achievements in literature. In 1849 1S52 he pro-
duced the Roman e of the Peera:.^e, in 4 vol-,.; in 1855,
Outlines of the History of the En:^lish /.an:piai:c: in
1856, The Eni^lish ofShakspearc illustrated in "Julius
Cu-sar;" and in 1862 the Manual uj En-lish I.iUra-
ture and the E.ir^lish I.an:^ua:^e. Having Ixren ap-
]winted in 1859 and 1S62 examiner of the Indian
civil service, he revisited London during these and
other summers, and occasionally cxteinkd his visits
to his native .Scotland; but his permanent home was
Belfast, where his chief duties lay. Thus peacefully
his life went on until 1866, when in February, while
lecturing to his class, he was struck with i>aralysis,
from which he only temporarily recovere<l. His
decease occurred on the 25th of June of the same
year, and his remains were interred in the church-
yard of Holy wood near Belfast.

Mr. Craik, who had taken the degree of .M..\.
while a student at the university of ."st. Andrews,
was also honoured with that of LL. D. a short time
before his death. By his wife, who died in 1856,
he had issue one son and three daughters, of whom
two survive. His character as an author is thus
summetl u[) in a brief memoir of him which appeared
in Knight's English Cyclopccdia, while he still lived:
".Scru])ulous accuracy, unwearied research, and
sound criticism, united with an ardent desire for the
safe and gradual advance of all that may practically
improve the condition of society, are the leading
characteristics of .Mr. Craik's writings. Few have
laboured more earnestly in the cause of gener.il
education."'

CRAWFORD, David, of Dmmsoy, near Glas-
gow. histcMMographer to (^)ueen .Anne, was born in
1665, and educated for the bar. Having abandoned
professional pursuits in a great measure, for the sake
of studying .Scottish anti([uities and history, he w.-s
ajipointed historiographer royal for Scotland !•/
(^ueen .\nne, to wh(nn he was jTobably rcconv
mended by his being a zealous Tory aivl J.icolute.
His political prepossessions, which as usual ex-
tended tt) a keen zeal in behalf of (Jueen Mary,
induced him in 1706 to publish, at London, his
well-known work, entitled Memoirs of the Affairs cf
Scotland, containing a Pull and Iwpartud Acccitr.t
of the Rcolution in that Kingdom, icgun in I5('7.
Faithfully Compiled from an Authentic MS. 'Hie
avo\\ed purjiose of this publication was to furr.i-ii
an antidote to the tendency of Buchanairs h;-ti'iy.
The substance of the work he sa_\s he (ierivcd ti-..ia
an ancient MS. presented to him by Sir j.Mnc^ l'.^.;r 1
of .Saughtonhall, and which seemed to lip.\e ln-rn
composed by a contemporary (i| the evc'.t~ de-
scribed. In executing the ta-k wl-.iJi; lie \\:.\ v.v.-
p(.)sed upon hiniselt", the le.'rr.cd e':/."r .ij'.h-.iis to
have acted after the manner o! a i;"'! j .".tt>.-;;'.
In order that his work nvght tl;c r..- ;e ivilt^t'y
meet the calumnies of lluclianan. In- e\]'',-.r.._:ed tr.'M
it every pas-.age wb.ich t.'li! iti bc!-..i'.l 'l t:'.e v-.w-
taken by that writer, an 1 i:-t:' "Ir.ct 1 ctlKr- ii>tr.-. 1
from the contcinpoiary Tory wiitcr^. 'I l.e wik
was reprinted by ( io- "l.-'.'.l in 1707. ar.'! <'\\ c T.t.r/.ivs
to be a popular iia: r.itn e oi the e\'cr.ts oi tl;e _/-;.»■
regencies. In 1S04 Mr. Mak^hn La:ng. ar-tli-r of
'The H.st.rr cf S::::':i ,:V, ■■./;,- t'ic S:' :■::::<::!: Cck-
titrv, having obta;nel p—.-;-:i o!' the ori^n,\l
MS. Used by Cr.;wt;-:!, ju;>:;.l:cl i", ^^.■h a 1 r.-

396

ROBERT CRAWFORD.

face denouncing the historiographer-royal as a rank
impostor, inasmuch as he had set off that as a work
of authority which had been vitiated for party pur-
poses by his own hand. The same view has been
taken of Mr. Crawford's character Ijy Mr. Thomas
Thomson, in the preface to a new print of tlie MS.
for tlie use of tlie Bannatyne Chib, wliich appeared
in 1825, under the title of The History and Life of
King James the Sext. Witli deference to these
writers, it may be suggested, in Crawford's defence,
that his work was never pretended to be a faithful
transcript of tlie original MS. except on the title-
page, where it is so stated by the bookseller ad cap-
tandurii, in obvious contradiction of the statement
made by the editor within. Tlie work comes forth
with the character of a special i)leading avowed upon
the face of it; and those who depended upon such a
refacciamento as upon a faithful contemporary chro-
nicle, after the account given of it in the editor's
jireface, had only to blame their own simplicity.
The truth is, Crawford's memoirs, when fully con-
sidered with a regard to tlie ideas prevalent respect-
ing the purity of historical narrative at the beginning
of the last century, will only appear an imposture
to an opjjosite partisan. Crawford died in 1726.

CRAWFORD, Gkneral Robert. This gallant
officer, whose chief theatre of distinction was the
Peninsula during tlie campaigns of Wellington, was
the third son of .Sir Alexander Crawford, Bart., of
Kilburnie, Stirlingshire. At an early age he entered
t!ie army, and on tiie 1st of November, 1787, he
bore the commission of captain in the seventy-fifth
regiment of Highlanders, with which he served in
India. Wlien the peace of Amiens opened the
Continent to British tourists, Crawford repaired to
France, that he might improve himself in military
science; but the war which followed the short-lived
jieacesoon recalled him from his professional studies
to his duties at home, and he was again sent out to
service in India.

Having gone through the various grades of pro-
motion until he attained the rank of major-general,
Crawford was sent, at the end of October, 1S06, to
South America, with 4200 men, upon an expedition
that was originally designed to achieve the conquest
c)f Chili. But from a mistaken idea that peace
would again be established in a short period, the
designs of our government in the matter of warlike
cxiieditions were characterized by such delays and
contradictory orrlers, that Crawford, from his attempts
to obey them, fell under the displeasure of the home
authorities, so that Ceneral Whitelocke was ap-
]iointed to supersede him in the command. A short
time, however, sufficed to convince them of the
mistake they had committed by the change. An
attack on Buenos Ayres was resolved iqion l)y
Whitelocke; and, as if to make success imjioshible,
the British troops were ordered U) leave the aitillery
behind ; the soldiers were to enter the town with
unloaded mu.-.kets ; and while every house, which
v.as flat-roofed according to the fashion of the climate,
was defended by their armed occuj.ants, who wi-re
P-dmirable marksmen, and resolute to defend their
homes to the last, each division of the assailants, on
entering the town, was preceded by a corporal's
guard, furnished only with crowbars to break ojien
tlie doors, while the troojjs were quietly to await
their progress. The town was easily entered by the
British, l)ut how they were to get out of it was the
master difficulty; for deadly sliowers of shot fr(jrn
every house-top poured upon them, which they were
obliged to endure without the means of returning it;
and the enemy, safe within their well-barricaded

habitations, laughed at the attempts to take their
town by iron crows. General Crawford and his
brigade, who by WHiitelocke's arrangements had
jienetrated quite through the town, after losing
nearly half his force, was obliged to entrench him-
self, with the remains of his troops, within a con-
vent, where they were attacked by overwhelming
numbers supplied with artillery as well as musketry.
Thus isolated from support, and without the means
of effectual resistance, they had no alternative but to
surrentier. Under such a commander as White-
locke the brave troops that afterwards under Wel-
lington achieved such victories, experienced nothing
but a ruinous and shameful defeat ; and Crawford,
with three of his regiments, were prisoners in the
hands of their triumphant enemies. This was fol-
lowed by humiliating conditions, which Whitelocke
accepted ; in consequence of which the prisoners
were restored, and the British troops withdrawn
from the river Plata.

After this bitter taste of the degradations with
which war is so often accompanied, Crawford was
so fortunate as to act under the orders of a very
different general, and upon a better field of action,
being sent to serve in the army of the Peninsula.
His brigade formed part of the centre column which
Wellington commanded in person at the battle of
Rori9a; and he also served in the battle of Vimeiro,
which was fought on the same month. Crawford was
joined to the expedition of General Sir John Moore,
and occupied a conspicuous place in confronting the
dangers of the retreat to Corunna. One particular
service in which he was engaged on these occasions,
was at the crossing of the Esia river. While the
British stores and baggage were conveyed across by
a ferry-boat. General Crawford during that tedious
operation was posted with the second light brigade
on the left bank of the river — which was high, and
commanded the bridge — so that the passage of the
troops might be accomplished in safety. In the
meantime the P'rench were in close pursuit ; and
their cavalry had overtaken the British rearguard,
and encountered it in a series of skirmishes. The
English horse and the stragglers being now all
across the river, Crawford gave orders to destro)' the
bridge; which was instantly commenced with alacrity,
one half of his troops being engaged in the demoli-
tion, while the other half kejit the enemy at bay.
When the work was finished, he withdrew his troops
in the face of the pursuers, by laying -jilanks across
the broken arches, along which his soldiers marched
by single files — a most difficult and dangerous opera-
tion; but the night, which was dark, and the swelling
of the river, which every moment threatened to flow
over the ])lanks, caused the retreat to lie undis-
covered, and his whole brigade was removed to the
other side in safety.

After this successful exploit, (General Crawford
was sent Ijy Sir John Moore \\ith 3000 men to keep
ojien the road to Vigo, and secure its port, as a
place of embarkation for the P.ritish army if it should
be impossible to effect it at Corunna. l-'indiiig that
his stay in this cpiarter was unnecessary, Ciawford
commenced his march to rejoin Wellington. His
troops, afier a march of twenty miles were in bn'oiiac
near Maljiartida de Placencia, when they were
roused from their repose by the repoits which the
runaway S]ianiards had spread in that (juartcr. A])-
lireliending that some critical event was in progress
at Wellington's head-quarters, Crawford allowed his
men to rest only a few hours ; and leaving l^ehind
him about fifty of the weakest, he commenced his
march, resolving not to halt until he had joined the
conflict at Talavera. As his brigade advanced, he

ROBERT CRAWFORD.

397

was met by crowds of Spanish fugitives, with cries
of "The British army is defeated — Sir Artluir
Wellesley is killed ^The French are only a few
miles distant!" These cowards, whose vision was
distracted by their fear, even pretended to point out
the enemy's advanced posts on the nearest hills.
But these reports, instead of stopping only hastened
the march of the troops; and leaving only seventeen
stragglers behind them, they, in twenty-six hours,
accomplished a march of sixty-two English miles,
each man carrying from fifty to sixty pounds weight
upon his shoulders. "Had the historian Gibbon
known of such a march," exclaims Napier, with
honest military pride, "he would have spared his
sneer al)out the 'delicacy of modern soldiers.'" It
has been characterized by the historian of Modern
Europe as the most rapid march by any foot-soldiers
of any nation during the whole war. Deep must
have been the regret of such heroes when they arrived
in a close compact body at the field of Talavera, to
find that their efforts had been useless only by an
hour or two — that the battle of Talavera had just
been fought and won.

When the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, and the cap-
ture of other important towns by the French, occa-
sioned the transference of the war from Spain to
Portugal, General Crawford occujiicd a consjMcuous
part during the retreat of the British army from tlie
one country to the other. He was appointed Iw
Wellington to secure the line of the Coa, for which
service he had tiiree regiments of admirably trained
infantry, and 400 excellent German hussars, while
generals I'icton and Cole were to come up to his
aid if required. Crawford admirably fulfilled his
task, stationing his troops in small detachments
along the bank of the .Vgueda, so skilfully, that they
extended twenty-five miles, and could not be attacked
except at great disadvantage. During these arrange-
ments, prodigious activity was necessary, so that lie
was everywhere; but he was nearly starved from his
post, no money nor supplies being forthcoming. It
was necessary to procure corn, and being of a fiery
impatient temper, he seized upon some church plate,
for which rasli act he was immediately rebuked.
But no popular explosion of the Sjianiards followed;
and the priests, convinced of his necessities, and the
prompt means he would use in relieving tliem, to(jk
care to have his soldiers provided with su]iplies.
The enemy gathered upon him in such force as
might have overwhelmed him, but after several skir-
mishes he continued to maintain his ground until
Ciudad Rodrigo had fallen. After this capture tlie
whole F'rench army, to the number of 60.000 men,
advanced, up(ni which Wellington, aware of Craw-
ford's fiery temper, ordered him not in any case to
fight beyond the Coa. But the neighbourhood of
such a force, after he had kept it three months at
bay, and the ])resence of .Massena himself, who now
commanded it, was too much for prudential con-
siderations, or even for pt)sitive commands, and with
his small force of 4000 infantry and I lOO cav.ilry he
prepared to give battle. This terrible affair, called the
battle of tile C\)a, which occurred on the 24th ol July,
was one ot the ino>t remarkable eitisodes of the whole
of this important war. The gallantry and conlldence
of the l!riti>h seem to have confounded tlie calcula-
tions of the enemy as to their numbers, and such was
the nature of their attacks over the whole field, as
served to keep up the delusion. Two lumdreil and
seventy Hritish and f>rty-four Portuguese were killed,
wounded, (.)r taken, while the French lo>t above a
thousand men ; and when the engagement ceased it
was upon equal term^, neither ]>arty having ob-
tained the victorv. But such a resistance on tl:e

part of the British was tantamount to many vic-

t<iries.

During the battle General Picton, who ought to
have supported Crawford, came up alone from I'inhel,
and when the latter desired the support of the othcr'a
division it was refused, and the two generals parted
after a sharj) altercation. In their re.sp>ettive char-
acters, whitii the author of the History of tlu Ptttin-
sula ll'ar lias sketched, we can |)erceive the men
themselves, as well as the causes of their disagree-
ment. "Picton and Crawfiird were not formed by
nature to act cordially t<jgether. The stern counte-
nance, robust frame, saturnine complexion, caustic
speech, and austere demeanour of the first promi-ed
little sympathy with the short thick figure, dark flash-
ing eyes, quick movements, and fiery temi)er of the
second; nor, indeed, did they often meet without a
quarrel. Nevertheless they had many ].oiiits of re-
semblance in their characters and fortunes. Bo'.h
were inclined to harshness, and rigid in command;
both prone to disobedience, yet exacting entire sub-
mission from inferiors, and they were alike ambitious
and craving of glory. They both possessed decided
military talents, were enterprising and intrepid, yet
neither were remarkable for skill in handling trooj s
under fire. This, also, they had in common, th.U
both, after distinguished services, perished in arms,
fighting gallantly; and Ijeiiig celebrated as generals
of division while living, have, since their death, been
injudiciously spoken of, as rivalling their great leader
in war. ... If they had even comprehended
the profound military and political combinations he
was conducting, the one would have carefully avcjided
fighting on the Coa, and the other, far from refusing,
would have eagerly proffered his support."'

The next affair in which Crawford distingiiishe 1
himself was the battle of Busr.co. Wellington had
selected this steep nigged ground as the Inrsi for de-
fence, and having made his arrangements, he awaited
the attack of Massena and Ney, in the confidence of
being successful. Crawford moved down from his
jiost on the 25lh of Sejitember, iSlo, and at tli,'
sight of the enemy gatlicring in front, seemed dis-
posed to repeat the dcsjierate experiment of the
Coa. Aiiprehending sueh a result, whieli v.inil.i
have disconcerted his whole ))lan of action, Welling-
ton sent orders to withdraw this division. In the
battle that folhjwed, Crawford, who was <>]>posed to
Nev, had so advantageously disjtosed his troops upon
the' heights, that they could not be attacked but .-t
great disadvantage; and standing alone on one of
the rocks which overlooked the enemy, he watched
the motions below, and the a^lvance of t!ie Fieiuii
to attack liim. Now was the time, ami in a ijuick
shrill vt)ice he onlered his soldiers to eliarge; t!.e
coinmanil was obeyed with equal alacrity, ar.d in a
few minutes the French were driven in contusi' :i
down the steep. After this success ar.d wlien ti.e
heat of conflict was succeeded by a nionier.inry triu ■
for relieving the wounded, a Frer.cli com; .tmv :■ -
wards evening seized a village wiiiiin l-.all-ir.i:-!.- :
shot of Crawfoni's division, and re:i;-cd to rt'ire.
This was enough to kmdle tlie ge:;!-i.d'- la^c. .:;. 1
after cannonading tlie village, lie se:.; il< w :i thr lort;. -
third rcgimem, winch un.ve .--at 'J-.c Fici-Ji ir. a te.v
minutes'". When tlie events ..f the car.;; ai-n l-roi;^','
on the b.ittle of Fuer.tcs ,\'(\)"rr. Slay 5. iSii.
Crawfird with his liglit d:v;-i •:: c^ vcr.d ll;e irssa,-:
of the seventh ilivi~i...n ovar ;!.;■ i;\ei- lur.'i.c--. a.;. 1
tlien retired slowly over i!>- ] iain ;:; - j-a.are-. I s'.ow-l
by the enemy's h'or-c. wl;;c!i coiuin-a.al'.y or.ttianka i
him; but tlie s.|uarc~ : i\>rr.:v\ >ucli a t^rin c.r.-l for-
midable a-pect tint tie ci:cniv \va:v alraai t.i attaik
them. AUcr tli.s -u^cc-^:ul dc:a .a\;.;iat;on, .il.e

598

ROBERT CRAWFORD JAMES CRICIITON.

light division formed a reserve to the right of the
first division, and performed an effectual part in the
conflict.

After the skirmish at Elbodo, and the retrograde
movement of. the British army, Crawford received
orders from Wellington to fall back upon Giunaldo,
at which tlie British troops were to be concentrated.
It was a movement that demanded the utmost speed,
for Wellington, who was there in person, had scarcely
15,000 men, while Marmont had collected 60,000
in front of him. The order was delivered at two
o'clock; but Crawford, who was only sixteen miles
distant, did not arrive until three on the following
day. Unaware of the critical condition of his chief,
averse to anything that looked like a retreat, and
desirous to signalize himself by some bold deed
against the enemy who followed his footsteps, his
march had been a very leisurely process; on the
other hand, Wellington, wlio would not abandon
the light division, awaited its arrival. It was well
that he could concentrate his troops from other quar-
ters during the night, and that Marmont was ignorant
of his situation. On the arrival of Crawford with
his division, his commander said to him nothing more
than, "I am glad to see you safe, Crawford." The
other replied, "Oil, I was in no danger, I assure
you." "But I was from your conduct," replied
Wellington. This mild rebuke from such a man was
almost equivalent to the condemnation of a court-
martial. In the night Wellington, by a skilful con-
centric movement from Guuialdo and other neigli-
bouring places, united tire whole army on new
ground twelve miles behind Giunaldo.

The career of the daring and chivalrous Crawford
was now drawing to an abrupt close. The reduction
of Ciudad Rodrigo being necessary for the success of
our arms. Lord Wellington, after investing the for-
tress eleven days in the face of a sujicrior enemy,
resolved to take it by storm. On the igtli of January,
181 2, two large breaches having been completed, the
third division, under General Picton, was appointed
to storm the greater opening, while Crawford with
his lig'it division was to undertake the less. It was
signilicant of tiie desperate nature of the enterprise,
that two of the bravest generalsof the British service
were selected to conduct it. Crawford's division
carried the smaller breacli; but Crawford himself fell
mortally wounded on the glacis, while bringing up
his troops to the attack. A musket-sliot which had
struck his left arm, penetrated his side, and lodged
in the lungs. He was immediately carried to the
rear, l)ut, not withstanding tlie attempts of the surgeons,
who bled him twice, he did not recover from a deadly
insensil)le stupor until the following morning. lie
f'-lt that recovery was ini]iossil)le, and when General
Stev.-art talked of future achievements, by which the
camjiaign was likely to be distinguished, and the
share which his friend might have in them, Crawford
in a faint voice answered that his last fight had been
f jught, and that all would soon be over. Oil the
23 1 his pain was so much al:)ated that he v.as able
to converse with apparent ease, and he si>oke chiefly
of his wife and children. Again and again he be-
sought his aide-de-camp to tell his wife that he was
sure they would ri^ect in heaven, and that there was
a ])rovi(lence over all which never would forsake the
soldier's widow and hisorjfhans. Thus he continued
till he died on the 24th, in the midst of a ])rofound
slumber. A grave was dug for him at the foot of
the breach which his light division had so gallantly
won ; and Wellington, who so highly valued his
military qualities that lie could overlook his faults,
attended his funeral, as did also several of the chief
officers of the British and Spanish armies. General

Crawford married Bridget, daughter of Henry Hol-
land, Esq., who with three sons survived him; and
a monument to his memory, and that of Major-
general M'Kinnon, who also fell in the storming of
Ciudad Rodrigo, was erected in St. Paul's Cathedral,
London.

CREECH, William, an eminent bookseller, was
the son of the Rev. William Creech, minister of
Newbattle, a most respectable clergyman, and of
Miss Mary Buley, an English lady related to a
family of rank in Devonshire. He was born in the
year 1745, and received a complete classical educa-
tion at the school at Dalkeith, which was taught by
Mr. Barclay, a preceptor of some distinction, who
also educated the first Viscount Melville, and the
Lord-chancellor Loughborough. He was at first
designed for the medical profession, but eventually
was bound apprentice to IVIr. Kincaid, a bookseller
in Edinburgh. In the year 1766 Mr. Creech went
upon a tour of the Continent, in company with Lord
Kilmaurs, son of the Earl of Glencairn. After his
return, in 1771, he was received by his former master
into partnership, and finally, in 1773, left in full
possession of the business. P'or forty-four years
Mr. Creech carried on by far the most extensive
bookselling concern in Scotland, publishing the writ-
ings of many of the distinguished men who adorned
Scottish literature at the close of the eighteenth
century. His shop, which occupied a conspicuous
situation in the centre of the old town, and yet, by
a curious chance, commanded a view thirty miles
into the country, was, during all that long period,
the rialto of literary commerce and intercourse,
while his house in the neighbourhood also attracted
its more select crowds at the breakfast hour, under
the name of CrcccJCs levee. While thus busied in
sending the works of his friends into the world, he
occasionally contributed articles to the newspapers
and other periodical works, generally in reference
to the passing follies of the day, of which he was
a most acute and sarcastic observer. During his
own lifetime, he published a volume of these trifles,
under the title of Eduthiirgh Fugitive Pieces, which
was republished with his name, and with some addi-
tions, after his death. He was one of the founders
of the Speculative Society in 1764-

Mr. Creech's style of composition is only worthy
of being spoken of with respect to its ironical humour,
which was certainly its only feature of distinction.
This humour, though said to have been very power-
ful when aided by the charm of his own voice and
manner in conversation, is of too cold, wiry, and
artificial a kind to have much effect in print. It
must also be mentioned, that, allln)ugh very staid
and rigicl in style, it involves many allusions by no
means of a decorous nature.

In ]irivate life Mr. Creech shone conspicuousl_\-
as a ])leasant companion and conversatii^nist, being
]iossessed of an inexhaustible fund of droll anecdote,
\\hich he could narrate in a characteristic manner,
and with unfailing effect. He thus secured general
esteem, in despite, it appeared, of extraordinary
fondness for money, and ])enuriousncss of habits,
which acted to the j^reclusion not only of all bene-
volence of dis])osition, but even of the conmion
honesty of discharging his obligations when the\-
were due. He dietl, unmarried, on the 14th of
January, I Si 5.

CRICHTON, jAMF.s, commonly styled tlie yhi-
miralile Crirhioit. Tlie learned and accurate Dr.
Kippis, editor of the Biograpltia Britaniiica, was the
first, we believe, who thoroughly sifted and critically

JAMES CRICHTOX.

399

examined the truth or consistency of those marvel-
lous stories which had so long attached to and ren-
dered famous tiie name of the Admirable Criciiton.
Many had long doulned their credibility, and many
more had been deluded by them. It fell to the lot
of this keen critic, by a minute and candid investi-
gation of the truth, to confirm and rectify the minds
of both.

James Criciiton was the son of Robert Crichton
of Kliock, l(jrd-advocate of .Scotland, partly in the
reigns of Queen Mary and King James VI. His
mother was Klizabeth .Stuart, only daughter of Sir
James Stuart of Beith, a family collaterally descended
from Murdoch, Duke of Albany, third son of Robert
III. by Elizaljcth Muir, and uncle to James I. Ik-
was born in the castle of Cluny, in Perthshire, some
time about the year 1560.

He received the first rudiments of his education
at Perth, from which place he was removed at an
early age to the university of .St. Andrev.'s, at that
time esteemed the first school of pliilosopby in Scot-
land. The progress whicli he made in his studies
is said to have been astonishing. He had hardly
passed his twelfth year when he took his degree as
IJachelor of Arts; two years afterwards, that of Mas-
ter of Arts; being then esteemed the third scholar in
the university for talents and proficiency. His ex-
cellence did not stoj) here. Before attaining the age
of twenty he had, besides becoming master of tlie
sciences, attained to the knowledge of ten different
Languages, which he could write and spcik to per-
fection. He had also every accomplishment which
it is befitting or ornamental in a gentleman to have.
He practisetl the arts of drawing and painting, and
improved himself to the higliest degree in riding,
fencing, dancing, singing, and in playing upon all
sorts of musical instruments. It remains only to
add, that this extraordinary person possessed a form
and face of great beauty and symmetry; and was
unequalled in every exertion requiring activity ami
strength. He would spring at one bound tlie space
of twenty or twenty-four feet in closing with his
ant.agonist: and lie added to a perfect science in the
svvord, such strength and dexterity that none could
rival him.

Crichton, now about the .age of twenty, and thus
accomplislied, set out upon his travels; and is said
first to have directed his course to Paris. It was
customary in tliat age to hc>ld ]')ublic disinUations,
in which questions alike abstruse and useless in the
scholastic ]ihilosophy were discussed. Soon after
his arrival in this city, he determined, in compliance
with such a usage, to distinguish himself by a public
display of part of his great ac([uiremcnts. To this
end he affixed placards to the gates of the different
schools, halls, and colleges of the university, inviting
all those versed in any art or science, discipline, or
faculty, whether jiractical or theoretic, to dispute
with him in the college of Navarre, that day six
weeks, by nine of the clock in the morning, ^\here
he would attend them, and be ready to answer to
whatever should be proposed to him in any art or
science, and in any of these twelve languages —
Hebrew, Syriac, .Arabic, Greek, Latin, .^])anish,
French, Italian, I'.nglish, Dutch, I'lemisli, and
.Sclavonian ; and this either in verse or jirose, at the
discretion of the disputant. We give the challenge
pretty fiilly in this place, that we may have no fur-
ther occasion to repeat it.

During the interesting interval of the six weeks
Crichton, v.-e are inforuieil, so far from showing the
least fiulter or uneasiness, diverled himself witli tlie
various amusements of tiie gay city. He devoted
his time almost entirciv to huiuin g, hawking, riding

on a well-managed horse, tossing the jiike, handling
the musket, and other feats of the like kind ; or to
more domestic trifling, such as balls, concerts, cards,
dice, or tennis. 'Ihis nonchalance is said to have
pnnoked the sneers of the students; and their satire
went the length of affixing a placard containing the
following words on the gate of the Navarre college
— "If you would meet with this monster of |)crfec-
tion, to make search (or him either in the tavern or
the brothel is the readiest way to find him."

The decisive day at length arrived; there attended,
we are told, at this singular convocation, alxmt fifty
professors, doctors of law and medicine, and learned
men, and above three thousand auditors. He
acquitted himself beyond expression in the disputa-
tion, which lasted from nine (j'clotk in the morning
till six at night. "So pointedly and learnedly
he answered to all the questions which were pro-
posed to him, that none but they who were present
can believe it. He spake Latin, Greek, Hebrew,
and other languages, most politely. /A ^iuis lil:e-
7cise an excelleitt horseman ; and trulv, if a man
should live a hundred years without eating, drink-
ing, or sleeping, he could not attain to this man's
knowledge, which struck us with a panic fear; fur
he knew more than human nature can well bear.
He overcame four of the doctors of the church ; for
in learning none could contest with him, an<l he was
thought to be Antichrist."' At the conclusi<jn the
president, after a speech of high commenilation, rose
from his chair, and, amidst the achiiiration and
acclamations of the whole assembly, jiresented him
with a diamond ring and a purse full of gold. From
the event of this day he attained the title of T.he
Admiral)le Crichton.

Crichton was so little fatigued, we are told, la-
this Herculean trial of mental prowess, that, on the
succeeding day, he appeared with all the lire and
freshness of youth at a tilting match in the Louvre,
and in the presence of several of the la<iies and
princes of the court of France, carried away the
ring fifteen times successively, "and broke ns many
lances on the Saracen,^' a chivalrous pastuiie of the
period so called.

We next find Crichton at Rome, where he soin
took occasion to exhibit a similar challenge to tlmt
of Paris. Here, in presence of the pope, many
canlinals, bishojis, doctors of divinity, and profe>stirs
in all the sciences, he again delighttil and astonished
ail spectators by the ama/ing (.roofs wlr.ch he ilis-
plaved of his universal knowledge. I'occaline. \\:!o
was then at Rome, relates the transaction son->.c%\hat
differently. According to this authority, Crichlon's
j-ilacard runs thus: "Nos Jacolnts Crichtonus, Sci'lti^.
cuicun(jue rei proposita: ex impnivis<i rcsponde-
bimus." This was a bold challenge in the c.-.j'ital < f
Christendom; and the ridicr.le which it coiild r.ot
fail to excite sliowed itself in a ] aMjuii,.-.ue, tl.e
huniotn- of which is not amiss, tliou^^l, it be iic-':
" .\nd,"" said this addendum to the iIi.tI;-, r.^e. "I.e
that will see //, let him go to the sign of \\v: Falo n
and //shall be shown." The Italia;: f.rtl.cr ir.!!:!;.-
us th.at this affront, which put CriJ.t-n i:j' .n tl.e
level of jugglers nnd niounteiMr.k-. nettled ;.;:n -■-
much that he left the ].I,ue.

He next proceeded to \'enice: t.\\>\ it va- -t; l,i- v. .-.v
thither that he conipo-cil or.e ( t' tlie \ \:\ little L.-t.n
poems, all by the way wiiich remain to j;.,ve tie
literary and poetical talent- ■■!( riJit. 11. Al'lu- Ma:t-
utius, the yoiniger of tile ceiel^ratcl i'..inily ot jTinti:-
to wliom it wa^ m-cribed. tli"n,.,l.t -over) bighiy. I ;!,
and on turtlu-r acquaintance w itii its auttior v.a- '■..

400

JAMES CRICriTON.

greatly delighted, that he forthwith formed a friend-
ship with him. lie was of service in introducing
Crichton to some of the principal men of Venice;
and among the rest to Laurentius Massa, Sperone
Speroni, and Joannes Donatus. A presentation
soon followed to the doge and senate, before whom
he made an oration, which, for brilliant eloquence atid
consummate grace, we are led to understand, could
not be surpassed. In effect, in the words of Im-
perialis, talking of him on this occasion, "he was
esteemed a prodigy of nature." Here he likewise
disputed upon different subjects in theology, philoso-
phy, and the mathematics, before the most eminent
professors, in large assemblies. Many people from
a distance came to hear and see him ; and, as a late
biographer has alleged, "lives of him were drawn
up and published." His visit to Venice was, it is
conjectured, in the year 1580.

After a residence of about four months in Venice,
during the latter part of which time he was afilicted
with a severe illness, Crichton repaired to Padua,
where was a university whose fame, in that age, was
spread over luirope. The day after his arrival there
was convened in honour of him, at the house of
Jacobus Aloisius Cornelius, a meeting of all the
learneil men of the place, when Crichton opened the
assembly with an encomiastic poem in praise of the
city, the university, and the persons present. He
then disputed for the space of six hours on matters
in general ; and, in particular, exposed with great
judgment the errors of Aristotle and his commen-
tators, whicii he did, nevertheless, with such engaging
modesty as excited universal admiration. In con-
clusion, he thought proper to deliver an extempore
oration in verse, in praise of ignorance, which was
conducted with so much ingenuity ("in order," says
one of his biographers, "to reconcile his audience to
their comparative inferiority")' that his hearers were
astonished, and no doubt highly gratified. Another
disputation was to have been held in the Bishop of
Padua's palace, which some unforeseen circumstances,
according to Manutius, prevented. Imperialis, how-
ever, differs from this statement; and relates that his
father (then thirteen years of age) had witnessed
Crichton upon sucli an occasion; that he was oj^posed
by Archangelus Mercenarius, a famous philosopher;
and that he acquitted himself so well as to obtain
the a]iprobation of a very honourable company, and
even of liis antagonist himself.

In the midst of the great reputation which Crich-
ton now enjoyed, there were not wanting many per-
sons who took occasion to detract from it, affecting
to consider hmi as a literary impostor, whose acquire-
ments were totally superficial. To put an end at
once to all such cavils or invidious reflections, he
caused a challenge, similar to the others already made
mention of, to l)e fixed on the gates of St. John
and St. Paul's church. The chief novelty on this
occasion wa-;, tiiat he engaged, at the pleasure of his
opponents, to answer them either in the common
logical way, or by numbers and mathematical figures,
or in a hundred different sorts f)f verse. According
to Manutius, Crichton sustained thi'^ contest without
fatigue for three days; during which time he sup-
ported his credit and maintained his ])ropositions
with such s])irit and energy, that from an unusual
concourse of people he obtained acclamations and
j)raises than which none more magnificent were ever
heard by men. It by much exceeded any of his for-
mer contests of a similar nature; and it is tlie last of
them of which we have any account.

To Sir Thomas Urquhart posterity is alone in-

1 'I'j-tlc-r'a Life of Crichton, p. 34.

debted for the next Incident recorded in the life of
the Admirable Crichton, and its interest has certainly
suffered little in coming from the graphic pen of that
redoubted fabler. We cannot do better than give
the exordium in his own words: — "A certain Italian
gentleman, of a mighty, able, strong, nimble, and
vigorous body, by nature fierce, cruel, warlike, and
auilacious, and in the gladiatory art so superlatively
exjjert and dexterous, that all the most skilful teachers
of escrime and fencing-masters of Italy (which, in
matter of choice professors in that faculty, needed
never as yet to yield to any nation in the world)
were by him beaten to their good behaviour, and, by
blows and thrusts given in which they could not
avoid, enforced to acknowledge him their over-
comer: bethinking himself how, after so great a
conquest of reputation, he might by such means be
very suddenly enriched, he projected a course of
exchanging the blunt to the sharp, and the foils
into tucks; and in this resolution, providing a purse
full of gold, worth near upon 400 pounds, English
money, travelled amongst the most especial and con-
siderable parts of Spain, Erancc, the Low Coun-
tries, Germany, Pole, Hungary, Greece, Italy, and
other places, wherever there was greatest proba-
bility of encountering with the eagerest and most
atrocious duellists; and immediately after his arrival
to any city or town that gave apparent likelihood of
some one or other champion that would enter the
lists and cope with him, he boldly challenged them,
with sound of trumpet, in the chief market-place, to
adventure an equal sum of money against that of his,
to be disputed at the sword's point who should have
botli." Sir Thomas goes on to relate the success of
this bravo of Italy, whose person and character he
has sketched with so masterly a pencil. "At last re-
turning homewards to his own country, loaded with
wealth, or rather the spoil of the reputation of these
foreigners, whom the Italians call Tramontani, he,
by the way, after his accustomed manner of aboard-
ing other places, repaired to the city of Mantua."
Having received the protection of the duke, and
published his challenge, it was not long befi3re he
found opponents willing to engage him on his own
terms. "Eor it happened at the same time that
three of the most notable cutters in the world (and so
highly cried up for valour that all the bravoes of the
land were content to give way to their domineering,
how insolent soever they should prove, because of
their former constantly-obtained victories in the field)
were all three together at the court of Mantua; who,
hearing of such harvest of 500 jiistoles, to be reaped
(as they expecteil) very soon, and with ease, had
almost contested among themselves for the jjriority
of the first encounter, but tliat one of my lord duke's
courtiers moved them to ca^t h)ts who should be first,
second, and third, in case none of the former two
shoukl prove victorious." Next ensue the successive
calamitous combats of these brave men: for he "whose
fortune it was to be the first of the three in the
field, had the disaster to be the first of the three that
was foyled; for at last with a thrust in the throat he
was killed dead upon the ground." The second
"was laid flat dcatl u])on the place by means of a
thrust he received in the heart;" and the last, "h.is
luck being the same with thcjse that preceded him,
l)y a thrust in tlie belly, he, within four and twenty
hours after, gave up the ghost."

-Sir Thomas manages with the ability, and indeed
]iretty much in the style, of a standard romancer,
the scene which was to wind up the interest of his
sUny to its height. And first he pauses in his narra-
tion, to take notice how these lamentable spectacles
caused shame and grief to the "Duke and citie of

JAMES CRICHTON.

401

Mantua;" and how "the conquering duellist, proud
of a victoiie so highly tending to both his Iionour
and profit, for the space of a whole fortnight, or two
wejks togcliier, marched daily along the streets of
Mantua (without any opposition or controulment)
like another Romulus or Marcellus in triumpli."
The way thus artfully prepared, the true knight, for
whom, as in books of romance, this adventure had
been reserveil, is introduced —

" — Which the ncver-too-much-to-be-admired
Crichton perceiving — to wipe off the imputation of
cowardice lying upon the court of Mantua, to which
he had but even then arrived (although formerly he
had been a domestic thereof), he could neither eat
nor drink till he had first sent a challenge to the
conqueror, appelling him to repair with his best
sword in his hand, by nine of the clock in the morn-
ing of the next day, in presence of the whole court, in
the same place where he had killed the other three,
to fight with him upon this quarrel!; that in the
court of Mantua there were as valiant men as he;
and, for his better encoura;^ement to the desired
undertaking, he assured him that, to the foresaid
5CX) pistoles, he would adjoin a thousand more;
wishing him to do the like, tiiat the victor, upon the
point of his sword, might carry away the richer
booty. The challenge, wiili all its conditions, is no
sooner accepted of, the time and place mutually
condescended upon, kept accordingly, and the 1500
pistoles, hinc iiide, deposited, and the two rapiers of
equal weight, length, and goodness, cac'i taking
one, in presence of the duke, duciicss, with all tlie
noblemen, ladies, magnificoes, and all the choicest
of both men, women, and maids of that city, as soon
as the signal for the duel was given, by the shot of
a great piece of ordinance, of threescore and four
jiound ball, the two coml)atants, with a lion-like
animosity, made their approach to one another."

Tile combat, as it resembles much in manage-
ment and fashion tliose with wliich tlie reader of old
romances must be well acquainted, so docs it like-
wise come up to tiiein in minuteness, we can hardly
say tediousness, for of that the author is incapable.
Cricliton long kept upon the defensive with his
adversary, and showed sucli excellent dexterity,
"tiiat he seemed but to play while the other was in
earnest." After long fencing, falsifying, and parry-
ing, warding from tierce to quart, priming, and
seconding, and after every variety of posture had
been gone through, "the ncver-before-conquered
Italian finding himself a little faint, enters into a
consideration tliat he may be overmatched, " and
sad thougiUs seize upon all his s])irits. W'e may
indulge the reader with the conclusion of this event-
ful contlict in the words of its original chronicler;
and in tliese it may possibly be investetl with a
])roj)riety and interest whicii we wouhl but vainly
labour to bestow upon it.

".Matchle>s CricIUon, seeing it now high time to
]nit a gallant catastrophe to that so-long-ilubious
combat, animated witli a divinely inspired fervencie
to fuhil the exi)ectation of the lathes, and crown the
duke's illustrious hopes, changeth his garb, falls to
act anotiicr part, and from ilefender turns assailant:
never did an so grace nature, nor nature second the
precepts of art wuii so niucli liveliness, and such ob-
servance of time, as when, after he had stnick fire
out of the steel of liis enemie's sword, and gained
the feeble tiiereof, with, tlie fort of his own, by angles
of the strongest position, lie did, by geometrical
flourishes of siraiglit and oblicpie lines, so practically
execute the speculative jiart, that, as if there had
been remoras antl secret charms in the variety of his
motion, the fierceness of iii» foe was in a trice trans-

VUL. I.

quilificd into the numncss of a pageant. Then was
it that, to vindicate the reputation of the duke's
family, and expiate the blood of the three vanquished
gentlemen, he alonged a stoccade </<'//<v/y2r/«<-; then
recoyling, he advanced another thrust, and lodged
it home; after which, retiring again, his right ffxjt
did beat the cadence of the Itlow that pierced the
belly of this Italian; whose heart and throat l)cing
liit with the two f<jrmer stroaks, these three franch
bouts given in upon the back of the other: Ix:-
sides that, if lines were imagined drawn from the
hand that livercd them, to the j.lace-. which were
marked by them, they would represent a |)crfect
isosceles triangle with a j)crpendicular from the top
angle, cutting the basis in the middle; they likewise
give us to understand, that by them lie was t<j Ik,-
made a sacrifice of atonement for the slaughter of the
three aforesaid gentlemen, who were wounded in liie
very same parts of their bodies by other three such
venses as these; each whereof being mortal, and his
vital spirits exhaling as his blood gushed out, all he
spoke was this, That seeing he could not live, his
comfort in dying was, that he could not die by the
hand of a braver man: after the uttering of which
words he expiring, with the shril clareens of trumpets,
bouncing thunder of artillery, belluvacked beating
of dnmis, universal clapping of hands, and loud
acclamations of joy for so great a victory." Crichton
generously bestowed the prize of his victory upon
the widows of the brave gentlemen whose deaths he
had thus avenged.

In consequence, it is said, of this achievement, and
the wonderful proficiency of the young Scotsman,
the Duke of Mantua made choice of him as tutor to
his son, Vincentio di Gonzaga, a young man of dis-
solute conduct and unsettled principles. The ajipoint-
ment seems to have been gratifying to ail parties;
and, as Sir Thomas Urquhart informs us, Crichton
composed a comedy on the occasion, which he ex-
hibited before the court. This we must by no means
enlarge upon; for though that author's account of the
matter is complete and curious, it is of great length,
aiul may with more jileasure and advantage be read
at large in the original. The piece, we may only
remark, belonged to a class of the drama known by
the name of the Comcdui a so;;'^ctio; in which one
actor performs all the characters, however numerous;
and must ajipear in the various dresses appropriate
to each. The A'hnirable Crichton had his usual
success. The conqMjsition was regarded as one ot
the most ingenious satires that ever was maile u])oii
mankind. It was the last display, too, ol those
wonderful talents and endowmeiUs which their jios-
scssor was destined to m.ake on the stage of th:^
world; and if, in any part of our narrative, we may
have betrayed symptoms of incro<iulity, we lay ?.\\
such feelings aside in coming to the concluding cir-
cumstance, the tragic nature of wlricli must aiw.-r. ^
excite deep sym]iathy and regret.

On a night of the carnival, as Crichton was \x\\:\'v.-
ing from some serenading i)arty. and r.nuisirjg lnni-
sclf as he went solitarily along, by i>!aying u;)o:i l.i-
guitar, he was suddenly set ujjon by !;ve or six ;\rnu ;
persons in masks. Tlic-e, wiiii i;re.".t \..^' i;r an'.
bravery, he either ])ut to iligl;t, w.'ir.iiic'I. <r k<i't .".t
a distance. Tlie one who sccnu-l to in- tb.e k-.'.'ler
he contrived to disarm; ai;d tin- ] ei-'>n [tovl.! to he
the prince, his jvupii, \'inccntio di ( i ii'.Mi^a; lor.
pulling off his mask and (ii-_ 'Vcr;r.,' Ir.n'.-eli. lu-
begged his hk'. Crichton. on thi^. llii up-n hi.
knees, and exjircssed the concern iie IlIi !• r f.is
mistake, alleging that wh.-.t he \\:A done he had
been prompted to by self-defence; ih.W it h;- ] nnce
had a:iv dcsi-n v.:^'i\\ hi^ lile he i;-. :h: always be

£6

402

JAMES CRICHTON.

master of it. Saying this, and taking his sword by
the point, he presented it to Gonzaga, who imme-
diately received it; and the evil passions by which
he had been actuated being inflamed rather than
subdued by his shameful discomfiture, he is said in-
stantly to have run his defenceless victor through the
heart.

It ought, however, in justice to be said, that the
above, though the popular statement of Crichton's
death, has been qualified by more than one of his
biographers, in its circumstances of atrocity, and,
indeed, though such actions assume a different char-
acter in Italy from what, happily, we are acquainted
with in this country, he ought to have the advantage
of every extenuation which impartiality can allow of
It is uncertain whether the meeting occurred by
accident or design. Sir Thomas Urquhart, with his
usual romance, has told a most extravagant, and it
must be allowed, absurd, love story; thus implicating
jealousy in the transaction; but the most probable
version seems to be, that Crichton was stabbed in a
drunken frolic; that the high rank of tiie one party,
and great merit of the other; the relation in which
they stood to each other; and the concealment of the
real circumstances came, at length, from the natural
love all people, and especially the Italians, have for
amplification and exaggeration, to invest the whole
in the tragic garb which it now wears.

Great and general, according to the old author we
have so often quoted, was the grief and lamentation
which this sad event caused in Mantua. The whole
court went into mourning for nine months. The
epitaphs and elegies written to his memory, and stuck
upon his hearse, would exceed, if collected, the bulk
of Homer's works; and long after, his picture had its
place in the closets and galleries of the Italian nobi-
lity; representing him on horseback, with a lance in
the one hand, and a book in the other. In a sum-
mary of excellences which we cannot help tran-
scribing, the same author thus takes leave of the
individual he has in so great a degree tended to
exalt: — "Crichton gained the esteem of kings and
princes, by his magnanimity and knowledge ; of
noblemen and gentlemen, by his courtliness and
breeding; of knights, by his honourable deportment
and pregnancy of wit; of the rich, by his affability
and good fellowship; of the poor, by his munificence
and liberality; of the old, by his constancy and wis-
dom; of the young, by his mirth and gallantry; of
the learned, by his universal knowledge; of the
soldiers, by his undaunted valour and courage; of the
merchants and artificers, by his upright dealing and
honesty; and of tlie fair sex, by his beauty and hand-
someness, in which respect he was a masterpiece of
nature."

Crichton is supposed to have been in tlie twenty-
second year of his age at tlie time of liis deatli. One
or two pictures are preserved of liim; and there is
reason to believe that they are originals. By these
it would appear that his frame was well proportioned,
and his head well shaped, though rather small tiian
otherwise. 11 is face is symmetrical and handsome,
but has no ])articular ex])ression of character. TJiere
is a print of him in the .Museum Ilistoricurn et I'hy-
sicum of Imperialis, which, tliougli poorly executed,
is prol)ably authentic.

Such is the woncierful story told us by early writers
of the Admirable Crichton, in wliich Ins own age
devoutly believed, and which a love of the mar-
vellous has continued to perpetuate to our own day.
Its incredible character, however, is of itself sufficient
to discredit it, and a dispassionate examination to
reduce it within reasonable bounds; and this reduc-
tion has been attempted by Dr. Kippis, the chief

biographer of Crichton, in the following conclusion:
— "It is evident that he was a youth of such lively
parts as excited great present admiration, and high
expectations with regard to his future attainments.
He appeai-s to have had a fine person, to have been
adroit in his bodily exercises, to have possessed a
peculiar facility in learning languages, to have en-
joyed a remarkably quick and retentive memory, and
to have excelled in a power of declamation, a fluency
of speech, and a readiness of reply. His knowledge,
likewise, was probably very uncommon for his years; •
and this, in conjunction with his other qualities,
enabled him to shine in public disputation. But
whether his knowledge and learning were accurate
or profound may justly be questioned; and it may
equally be doubted whether he would have arisen to
any extraordinary degree of eminence in the literary
world. It will always be reflected upon with regret,
that his early and untimely death jjrevented this
matter from being brought to the test of experiment."

CROMARTY, Earl of. See Mackenzie,
George.

CRUDEN, Alexander, styled by himself, Alex-
ander the Corrector, was born at Aberdeen, on the
31st May, 1700; the son of a respectable merchant
and bailie of that city. Having received a good
elementary education, he entered Marischal College-
with the intention of studying for the church. He
there made considerable progress in his studies, and
had the degree of Master of Arts conferred upon him,
when decided symptoms of insanity appeared. His
malady has been absurdly ascribed to the bite of a
mad dog, and, with more probability, to a dis-
appointment in love. At all events, it is certain
that he became so unreasonably importunate in his
addresses to the daughter of one of the clergymen of
Aberdeen, that it was found necessary to put him
under restraint. This lady, however, it afterwards
appeared, was unworthy of the devotion he paid her,
and there is a very interesting anecdote of his meet-
ing her many years afterwards in London, where she
had hid herself after fleeing from Aberdeen. On his
release from confinement in 1722, he left the scene
of his disappointments, and repairing to I^ngland,
found employment as tutor for many years in a
family in Ilertfordshire, and afterwards in the Isle
of Man. In the year 1732 he settled in London,
where he was employed by Mr. Watts, the printer,
as corrector of the press; he also engaged in trade
as a bookseller, which lie carried on in a shop under
the Royal Exchange. Having gained the esteem of
many of the principal citizens of London, he was,
on the recommendation of the lord-mayor and alder-
men, appointed bookseller to the queen.

•Soon after Cruden's arrival in London he had
commenced his elaborate work called the Concord-
ance of the Bible; and having, after inconceivable
labour, finished it, he had the honour of dedicating
and ]>resenting it to Queen Caroline, the consort of
George II., who graciously promised to "remember
him;" but, unfortunately for him, she died suddenly
a few d.ays after. Involved in embarrassments ])y
the expense of jiublishing his Concordance, and by
his neglect of business while he was comjiiling it,
he aliandcjned his trade, and sunk into a state of
melancholy despondency. His former mental disease
now returned upon him with increased violence, and
he was guilty of so many extravagances, tiiat his
frienfls were oljliged to place him in a jjrivate lunatic
asylum. (Jn his recovery he published a lengthened
account of his sufferings, under the title of " Y/zf
London Citizen exceedingly Injured ; giving an account
of his severe and long campaign at iiethnal's Green,

•^-- o

ALEXANDER CKUDEN.

403

for nine weeks and six days; the Citizen hcin}; sent
there in March, 1738, by Robert Wifjhtman. a
notoriously conceited whimsical man; where he was
chained and handcufTed, strait -waistcoated and
imprisoned ; with a history of Wightmaii's blind
bench, a sort of court that met at Wij^htman's room,
and unaccountably proceeded to pass decrees in re-
lation to the London Citizen," &c. &c. He also
instituted let;al proceedings against his physician and
this Mr. Wightman, the proprietor of the asylum,
for cruelty. He was not able, however, to substan-
tiate his charge, although there is much reason to
fear that, in pursuance of the treatment to which
lunatics were at that time subjected, Cruden was
harshly dealt with; which seems to have been the
less excusable as he appears to have been at all times
harmless.

The next fifteen years of his life were passed by
him apparently in a state of inoffensive imbecility,
although his former employers did not consider him
incapable of continuing corrector of the press. In
the year 1753 his relations conceived themselves
justified in again putting him under restraint; but
as he was perfectly inoffensive he was only confined
for a few days. On his liberation he insisted that
his sister, Mrs. Wild, who sanctioned these proceed-
ings, should consent to a species of retributory re-
conciliation with him, and submit to a confinement
of forty-eight hours in Newgate, and pay him a fine
of ten pounds. Ller rejection of tliis proposal was
a matter of great surprise to him, and he therefore
brought an action of damages against her and others,
"laying his claim at ^^10,000. On the verdict being
returned for the defendants, he was quite resigned;
but published an account of his ill-usage, under the
title of The Advetiturcs of Alexander the Corrector,
which, like all his other publications of a similar
tlescription, has that air of mingled insanity and
reason which its title indicates, and which pervades
other works by him on similar topics. His insanity
now disj^layed itself in many ways sufficiently whim-
sical. Fully persuaded that he was commissioned
by Heaven to reform tlie manners of the age, he
assumed the title of Alexander the Corrector. To
impress the public with the validity of his i')reten-
sions he printed and circulated on small pieces of
]iaper, sentences confirmatory of his high calling,
such as that '"Cruden was to be a second Joseph,
to be a great man at court, and to perform great
things for the spiritual Israel of Egypt." He went
about the country exiiorting the people to reform
tlieir manners and to keep holy the Sabbath-day.
Jn order that his exhortations might liave greater
weight with his hearers, he wished his authority to
be recognized by the king and council, and that
parliament should constitute him by act '^The Cer-
reclor of the People.'^ Still farther to assist him in
his mission, he ni.ide a formal ajijdication to liis
maje->ty, to confer on him the h<jnourof kniglithood;
"for," sai<l he, "I tliink men ought to seek after
titles rather to please others than themselves." He
gives an amusing account of his attentlance at cnurt
while soliciting this honour, and of his fretiuent in-
terviews with the lords in wailing, the secretaries
of state, and oilier per^^oiis ot rank; and conijilains
grievously that his application^ were noi attended
to. From his censvue, however, lie exeni]n> the
Earl of I'aulet, who, he '^ays, "sjiuke civilly to
him; fir, being goulish in hi-- teet, he could not run
away from the Corrector as others were ajit to do."
Wearied, at length, by his unavailing attendance at
court, he next a>'i;re.l to tlie honour of representing
the city of London in iiarliament, ami was a candi-
date at the generr.l election of 1754. lIi^> -iddrc-scs

to the livery were sinpularly ridiculous, but he was
withheld by no <liscourageincnt; for, when one of
the bishops, with whom he ha<l obtained an inter-
view, intimated to him that he had no chance of the
election, unless Providence especially appeared for
him. "'Ihis," he said in his account of the inter-
view, "the Corrector readily acknowledged :" and
indeed in his .adtlresses he mentioned that he ex-
pected a divine interposition in his favour. .After
his failure in this pursuit, he cons(jled himself with
the reflection, "that he had their hearts, although
their hands h.ad been ])ron)ised away.' "'Ihe Cor-
rector," he adds, "was very cheerful' and contented,
and not at all afflicted at the loss of his election."

Cruden, as a lover, was remarkably susceptible,
and no less zealous m the pursuit of the objects of
his admiration, than in his attempts to attain ix>!i-
tical distinction. Amongst others, Miss .\bney,
the daughter of Sir Thomas .\bney, the late Lord-
mayor of London, was persecuted by his addresM.-^.
She, of course, discountenanced this folly, ami the
result was, what her admirer styled, "his declara-
tion of war," being a lengthened memorial, wherein
he rehearses his manifold grievances, and declares,
that, since she had refused all his more reasonable
overtures, he was now determined to carry on the
war after an extraordinary manner, "by shooting
of great numliers of bullets from his camp; namely,
by earnest prayers to Heaven, day and night, that
her mind may be enlightened and her heart softened."
This, and all his other absurdities, had their rise in
the desire to increase his own importance an<l wealili,
by which he expected to render himself more power-
ful and effective in the execution of his iinaginarv
mission for the reformation of the manners of the
age. In 1754 he was emidoyed as corrector of the
press by Mr. Woodfall, the well-known publi.-her
oi yuitins' Letters; and, although his labours seldom
terminated before one in the morning, yet he w(juld
be found again out of bed by six o'clock busily em-
ployed turning over the leaves of his Bible, and witli
the most scrupulous care amending and imjiruving
his Concordance, preparatory to a new edition. In
this drudgery he would patiently work until tlie
evening, when he repaired to the printing-oftke.

The benevolence which animated Cruden's exer-
tions for the benefit of his fellow-creatures was mo-:
disinterested and unwearied; and as far as h:s .".'i-
vice or money went, lie aided all wlio were nii>erabie
or in distress. In the year 1762 he was tlie niean^
of saving the life of a poor sailor condenir:ed fu'
forgery: having been present at the trial, lie became
persuaded that the accused had been t!ie du]ie c\
one more designing than himself, and, .is he after-
wards founfl him to be simple, ami even ignorant > :
the nature of the crime for which lie \\as coivieiiine :
to suffer, he iinportune<l govcriinieiit --o ur.ce.T-iiigly.
that at last he succeedeil in getting the juiiidiniei.'
commuted into banishment. ( >:i ar.ot'.ier ocl.Is'..:.
he rescued a wretched female frwin ;i;e -tret ; -, ?.:\ \
received her into his iKui-e; and, l'..'.N.;-g i:>:riuu
her in her duties, she rein.iined in l.!- -erv.^e ;:!.:
his death. Next to the de-ire ..f cl.\:i^ ^^ • !, '■••\^--' .
seems to have been the mii-t ]>r^ 11..:;; :.i !t.;;-.::e :..
Cruden's cii.irncter. In tlie ] l:t;t..l -;r'.:.:.,':e i'-
tween Mr. NVilkes and the ."..iniiu;-::..: .■ :;. !..■ wr •
a iiamplilet against the r.il'Me's \ y.v. \. ..r. 1 \\i--.'
about with a spunge and r;;:i'i. ! ti ..; 'i.e il r- .^.r. ;
walls of the nietropohs the ;. ■; \:'..v^ "X ■. 4;."

In the year iJtK) Cni.ie;. . ;:.e r.. re v.-.t' : :;.
scenes of his ycf.tii. wliere b.e w r.~ ri 1 1 ;■• t, 1 \v.;!i ^■■'..-
sidcrable resjiect, and w.^.- .'..l-'Ve'. •.:)■-• r.-e <•! ii.-
of the public halls to deliver r. Il^'.-.X' ■ :i lie :••■■.-• --
sitv of a reformation el !r,.ir.:.ers, .;..■.; •! r., . .rg

404

WILLIAM CRUICKSHANKS

WILLIAM CULLEN.

holy the Sabbath-day. Havhig remained about a
year in Aberdeen, he returned to London, and soon
after, having complained for a few days previous,
he was found dead in his closet, in the' pious attitude
of prayer. He died at his lodgings in Camden
Street, Islington, ist of November, 1770, in the 71st
year of his age. Never having been married, he
left his moderate savings among his relations, with
the exception of ;!^lOO, which he bequeathed to en-
dow a bursary in Marischal College, Aberdeen, and
some other trifling legacies for charitable purposes
in the metropolis. Cruden was remarkable for the
courteous affability of his manners, his active bene-
volence, and his pious devotion. His published
works are: — The ILstory of Richard Potter, 8vo, being
that of the poor sailor whose life he saved; The
Jlistory and Excellency of the Scriptures prefixed to
the Compendium of the Holy Bible, Aberdeen, 2 vols.
24mo; An Index to Bishop Newtot^s Edition of Mil-
tons Works — an elaborate work only inferior to the
Concordance; A Scripture Dictionary, which was
pul^lished in Aberdeen soon after his death; various
j^amphlets, particularly those wherein he gives a
detailed account of his Adventures. These disjjlay
some humour and much single-hearted insanity.
But his great work was his Concordance of the Old
ami A'e'io 'Testaments. This is a work of the most
extraordinary labour, and although it was not the
tirst Concordance of the Bible, yet it affords a wonder-
ful instance of what individual industry may accom-
plish. The first Concordance which was compiled,
is said to have given employment to 500 monks, yet
did Cruden by his own unassisted exertions produce
one infinitely more complete, elaborate, and accurate
than had ever appeared, and this not by copying
from others, but by the most careful examination
and study of the Bible. It is satisfactory to know
that the laljour bestowed on this work did not go
unrewarded. Altliough the first edition was for a
long time unsuccessful, it was ultimately sold off,
and in 1 76 1, thirty years after its publication, a
second edition was called for, which he dedicated to
Ceorge HI. who was graciously pleased to order him
;^loo;and a third edition was published in 1769.
r"or the second edition the publishers gave Cruden
;^500, and when the tliird was called for, an addi-
tional present of £^QC>, besides twenty copies on fine
paper. An edition was published in 1810, under the
craeful superintendence and correction of Mr. David
Jjye, and in 1825 the work had reached the tenth
edition. Indeed, so valuable and useful is this work
tliat it is now reckoned an indispensable part of
every clerical libraiy.

CRUICKSHANKS, William, F.R.S., an emi-
nent surgeon in London, the assistant, partner, and
successor of the famous Dr. William Hunter of tlie
Windmill Street anatomical school, was the son of
an officer in the excise, and was born at lulinburgh
in tlie year 1745. After completing tlie elementary
branches of his education at tlie scliools of lulin-
burgh, he commenced the study of divinity at that
university; but he so(jn forsook his clerical studies
and directed his attenti(jn to medicine. Willi a view
to that profession, he removed to Cjiasgow, where
he went tiirough a comjilete course of medical educa-
tion at the university. Having (lev(;te<l cigiit years
of his life to assiduous study, he olHained, tln-ougli
the recommendation of Dr. I'itcairn, tlie situation of
librarian to Dr. William Hunter of London; and so
higldy did that great man estimate his talents, that
he soon after appointed him his assistant, and ulti-
mately raised him to the honour of being his jjaitnor
in superintending his establishment in Windniill

Street. On the death of Dr. Hunter in the year
17S3, the students of that institution thought so
favourably of Mr. Cruickshanks' professional acquire-
ments, that they presented an address to him and
to the late Dr. Baillie, requesting that they might
assume the superintendence of the school; which
they did.

Mr. Cniickshanks is known to the world by his
medical publications; and as a teacher and writer
he acquired a high reputation for his knowledge of
anatomy and physiology. In the year 1786 he pub-
lished his principal work, The Anatomy of tJie Absor-
bent Vessels of the Human Body, a production of ac-
knowledged merit, which has been translated into
several languages. He also wrote an ingenious paper
on the nerves of living animals, which establishes
the important fact of the regeneration of mutilated
nerves. This paper, however, although read before
the Royal Society, was not published in the Transac-
tions of that body until several years afterwards.
This delay was owing to the interference of Sir John
Pringle, who conceived the idea that Mr. Cruick-
shanks had co.'troverted some of the ojnnions of the
great Haller. In the year 1797 Mr. Cruickshanks
was elected fellow of the Royal Society. In 1799
he made his experiments on insensible perspiration,
which he added to his work on the absorbent vessels.
He had suffered for many years from acute pain in
the head, and though warned that this pain arose
from extravasated blood settled upon the sensoriitm,
and that the greatest abstinence in his regimen was
indispensable in order to prevent fatal consequences,
yet, regardless of this warning, he continued to live
freely; and, as had been foreseen, he was cut off sud-
denly in the year 1800, in the fifty-fifth year of his
age. With much personal and intellectual vanity,
Mr. Cruickshanks was an excellent anatomist and
able physiologist, and a cool and skilful surgeon. He
was generous and truly benevolent, literally going
about doing good. He was one of the medical men
who had the melancholy honour of attending Dr.
Samuel Johnson in his last illness. In 1773 ^'^
was married to a lady from Dundee, v>dio died in the
year 1795, by whom he had four daughters.

CULLEN, Lord. See Grant, Sir Francis.

CULLEN, William, M.D., one of the most
highly gifted and accomplished physicians that .Scot-
land has produced, was born on the 15th of April,
1710,^ in the parish of Hamilton, in the county of
Lanark. His father was by profession a writer or
attorney, and also farmed a small estate in the adjoin-
ing parish of Bothwcll, and was factor to the Duke of
llaniilton. His mother was the dau[;hter of Mr.
Roberton of Whistlebury, the younger son of the
family of Roberton of Ernock. The family consisted
of seven sons and two daughters, and the subject of
the present biograjihical sketch was the second son.

Occujn'ing a respectable station of life, yet the
jiarents of young Cullen, from the scantiness of their
means, found it necessary to place hiniat tlie grammar-
school of Ilamilton, wliere lie received the firsfpart
of his education. Although the funds of his family
^\cre not very ample, he was sent from the grammar-
scliool of Hamilton to the university of Glasgow;
and at the same time was bound a])prentice to Mr.
J'lhn Paisley, who was a mcmljer of the faculty of
I'livsicians and .Surgeons, and enjoyed an extensive

' In most of the biographical notices pubhshed of Ur. Cullen,
the date of his birth is referred to the year 1712, an error cor-
rected by Dr. 'I'homson, in his elaborate Life of Dr. Cullen,
8vo, 1832, who states the year of his birth to have been 1710,
oTi the authority of t)ic tjession Kccord of the parish of
Hamilton.

//

li

WILLIAM CULLLX.

405

practice in that city. It does not appear that he
went through a rcj^ular course of education at this
seminary, hut having early chosen medicine as a pro-
fession, the classes which he attended were prohably
regulated witli a view to that object.

Having terminated his studies at Glasgow, Dr.
CuIIen, towanls the end of the year 1729, went to
London, with the view of improving himself in his
])rofession; and there, soon after his arrival, through
the interest of commissioner Cleland, who was a
friend of Pope, and author of a letter prefixed to
one of the editions of the Dunciad he o])tained the
appointment of surgeon to a merchant ship which
traded between London and the West Indies. Mr.
Clelanil, a relation of his own, was fortunately the
captain of the vessel in which he obtained this a]i-
pointment. During the voyage he did not neglect
the opportunity it aft'orded him of studying the effects
of the diversity of climate on the human constitution,
and the diseases which are so prevalent and fatal in
our West Indian settlements. The facts he then
gathered — the observations he then made — he subse-
quently referred to in his lectures in (Glasgow and in
Edinburgh. After returning from the West Indies,
he remained a siiort time in London, where he
attended tlie shop of Mr. Murray, an apothecary;
and it is suppos.-d that here he first paid particular
attention to the study of materia medica. About
this period — the end of the year 173 1, or the begin-
ning of the year 1732 — in consequence of the death
of his eldest brother, the duty of arranging his
father's affairs devolved upon him ; besides which,
the necessity of providing for the education of his
younger brothers and sisters rendered it expedient
for him to return to Scotland. Aware of these cir-
cumstances, his friend, Cajjtain Cleland, invited him
to reside with him at his fomily estate of Auchinlee,
in the iiarish of Shotts, and to take charge of the
health of his son, who was affected with a lingering
disorder. Whilst residing there, he seems to have
combined with his medical jiractice the most unre-
mitting apjilication to his studies. Caiitain Cleland
was often heard to say, that nothing could exceed
his assiduity at this period; for when not engaged in
visiting patients or in |ire['aring medicines, his time
was wholly occupied with his books.

Dr. Cullen having succeeded to a small legacy by
the death of a relation, determined to devote his
attention exclu>ively to his studies, before fixing
himself as a medical practitioner in the town of
Hamilton. Acordingly he tirst proceeded to the
retired village of Rotb.bury, near Wooler in North-
umberland ; and afterwards to Edinburgh, where,
engageti in the prosecution of his general studies, he
remained during the winter sessions 1734-35-3'^.
The medical school of the university of Ldiiiburgh
was at tliis period only beginning to attain the cele-
brity it now enjoys; for although professorsliips tn
eacii of the ditTerent branches of medical science had
bjcn instituted, and several attcinjits had been made
to systematize a course of instructif)n, it was nut
until the year 1720 that tliese im]i<irtant (diject^were
carried into effect. Tiie Rnyal Infirmary, although
in progress, was not at this time i)]->en to the imblie,
nor were the advantages that are to be derived from
clinical lectures yet recogni/.ed. .\ u>eful adjunct to
this schocil of medicine was at this [leriod forme<l,
by the institution of the Medical Society, which
originated in the latter end of the .■\;igu-t of 1734-
Dr. Cleghorn. Dr. Cuming. Dr. Ru~-el, Dr. Hamil-
ton, Mr. .Archibald Taylor, and Dr. James Kennedy,
then fellow-students at l-'.dinburgh. and intimately
acquainted with each other, after spending a social
evening at a tavern, agreed to meet once a fortnight ,

at their respective lo<lgings, where it was arranged
that a dissertation in English or I.atin on wmic
medical subject should W read, and afterwards dis-
cussed by the auditors. Dr. Culli-n. says the His-
tory of the society, with the discrimination charac-
teristic of a mind devoted to activity and eager in
the ))ursuit of knowledge, hastened, .as ajq-ear* from
a jiart of his correspon<lence still preserved, to unite
himself with a society which even in its infancy
had honours and advantages at it-, disiKjs.al. In it's
labours, it may safely be presumed, he t.x.k a pro-
minent and animated share, an<l there can be no
doubt that the value of its discussions wore Ix^th
attested and augmented by his distinguished parti-
cipation.' This Society, thus humble in its com-
mencement, subsecpien'tly held its meetings in a
room in the Royal Infinnary, until, adequate fuiui,
having been raised, the building known as the Hall
of the Medical Society in Surgeon's Square was
founded.

Dr. Cullen continued his studies in Edinburgh
until the spring of 1736, when he left it to commence
business as a surgeon in Hamilton, where heappear--
to have been emj)loyed by the Duke and Duchess of
Hamilton, and all the families of any consideration
in that neighbourhood. During his residence there,
the Duke of Hamilton was attacked with an alarm-
ing disease, which did not readily yield to the re-
medies he prescribed, and therefore it v.t.s deemed
advisable to call in Dr. Clerk, who was accordingly
sent for from Edinburgh. Thisaccompli?lie<l physi-
cian highly approved of Dr. Cullen's manageniei.t
of the duke's case, and was so pleased with Dr.
C'ullen that he ever afterwards took even.' o].])or-
tunity of cultivating his friendship. At Hauiilto!!
Cullen also became acquainted with Dr. William
Hunter, with whom he ever afterwards continued oti
terms of the greatest intimacy, each living to see the
other yilaced, by the concurrent suffrages of the!r
medical brethren, at the head of his own <;epartmen*.
of medical science. When Dr. William Hunter
became the friend of Dr. Cullen, the latt-.r had ci in-
pleted his elementary education, and the agreeiiur.t
that took ]ilace l)etween them wr.s, th.-it Dr. Wil-
liam Hunter should go and prosecute i;is nievikr;
studies in Edinburgh and London, and .-d'terwnr !.s
return to settle in Hamilton as a j'artiier of 1 '!■.
Cullen; the oi'ject of which partnerdiip w.-.s toena'i-
Dr. Cullen. who disliked the surgical de; ."rtineiu '■\
his ]Trofession, to practise only as a phy-ii.'..iii ; win..-
his friend and partner. Dr. William I Ir.i.'.er, w..^ ; >
act among their connections only as a >r. igeon. 1 'r.
Hunter's biographer. Dr. Foart Sinnii";.-. gives ;:, ■
following account of the nature and tciir.iii.ition . ;
this arrangement, "which," sp.y-, 1);-. Ti; ii:;-' ■ .
"is, I have reason ti) believe, stri^ily !.• rrevt. I! -
father's consent having been j^rev;' >■,■ -!y ./.•.-.i-e .
Mr. Hunter in 1737 went to resi.le \\ .\\\ 1 'r. (■.;''
In the family of this excellent tV'v.i'i a;-.' \ :\ , ; • : v
he passed nearly three years; a:, 1 th'.-,. :.e r. ■- i' -
often heard to acknowledge. v.ere the l,.v : ■ •' ^i' '
of his lite. It was then ag'.eel ;". .: i. ■ -': ■•.'.;
and prosecute his studies in l'..;:'.i ;■.:_ :■" i 1 :' ■
and afterwards return .".nd ~<-;',!e :■' li.".::. ' ''■■ '■::
partnership witli Dr. Culle::. >!:. H-'':. •" ; :
]M-Osecu"ing his stii'iii s i,.r a v..;/,'.; . '. I :.•.:!......

«-ent to London, whv.v l.e v. v. - .;•• ./ 1 t ' } "-
James Dou^bs, wImw,:-.:; :::..; ;.;v .■ i :v ■;-:e.i ;;;
the comjiositiiiii ot hi- gr' ■"- -v-.'-' •' - "•■ '•■ i^ ,"'"'■
bone<. and lociking o'-.t 1 v :■ % ■, • / ; :.'.:'^ ^ ■! .ii ,r.:.. -
and industn.', whi in he i;;:^;.; <.:..; ■ ;•' •'•- •■ -^-ei-:' r.

1 //.■■.

4.o6

WILLIAM CULLEN.

Tiiis induced him to pay particular attention to
Mr. Hunter; and finding him acute and sensible, he
desired him to make another visit. A second con-
versation confirmed the doctor in the good opinion
he had formed of Mr. Hunter; and, without any
further hesitation, he invited him into his family
to assist in his dissections, and to superintend the
education of his son. Mr. Hunter, having com-
municated this offer to his father and Dr. Culicn,
the latter readily and heartily granted his concur-
rence to it; but his father, who was very old and
infirm, and expected his return with impatience,
consented with reluctance to a scheme, the success
of which he thought precarious." Dr. Cullen having,
for the advantage of his friend, thus generously
relinquished the agreement between them, was for a
time deprived of a partner; but still determining to
practise only as a physician, he took the degree of
Doctor of ^ledicine at Glasgow in 1740, and, in the
following year, entered into a contract with Mr.
Thomas Hamilton, surgeon, on terms similar to
those wliich had been formerly agreed on between
him and Dr. Hunter.

Dr. Cullen, during his residence at Hamilton,
was twice elected magistrate of that place — first in
the year 1738, and again in the year 1739. While
in the magistracy, he appears to have taken an active
share in the agricultural improvements beginning at
that time to be introduced into the west of Scotland.
He frequently attended the meetings of the trustees
appointed for the improvement of the high-roads,
and was much consulted by them on the different
matters that came under their consideration. Some
of his paj^ers relative to these subjects exhil)it singu-
lar proofs of habits of arrangement, accuracy in
transacting business, and a knowledge of rural and
agricultural affairs which must have rendered his
advice ]iarticularly acceptable. Agriculture was a
study which continued at an after-period of his life
to interest his attention; for we find him, when a
lecturer on chemistry, endeavouring to throw light
xipon it by the aid of chemical science; and in the
year 1758, after finishing his course of chemical
lectures, he delivered, to a number of his friends and
favourite pupils a short course of lectures on agri-
culture, in which he explained the nature of soils,
and the operation of different manures.

Dr. Cullen, early in life, becanie attached to Miss
.\ima Johnstone, daughterof the Rev. Mr. Johnstone,
minister of Kilbarchan, in the county of Renfrew. She
was nearly of his own age; and he married her on the
13th of November, 1741. After his marriage Dr.
C'ullen continued for three years to practise as a
])hysician at Hamilton; during which period, when
not engaged in tiie more active and laborious duties
of liis j)rofession, he devoted his time to the studies
of chemistry, natural jjhilosophy, and natural his-
tor)'; nor is there any doulit but that at this time he
was preparing and fjualifying himself to teach those
branches of science on wliicii he very shortly after-
wards became so eminent a lecturer. 1 litherto the ad-
vantages held out by the Duke of 1 lamilton jjrcvented
his seeking a more ap[)ropriatc field for the display
of his abilities; but after the death of the duke,
which happened at the end of the year 1743, he was
influccd to transfer his residence to (jlasgow. He
settled in that city in the end of the year 1744, or
beginning of 1745, at which ]ieriod Dr. Johnstone
w.as professor of medicine in tlie university, and Dr.
I lamilton was the professor of anatomy and botany,
but neither of them gave lectures. Dr. Cullen, who
soon perceived the possibility of establishing a medi-
cal school in Glasgow similar to that which had
been established in Edinburgh, made arrangements

with Dr. Johnstone, the professor of medicine, to
deliver, during the following winter, a course of lec-
tures on the theory and practice of physic, in the
university. This course lasted six months; and, in
the following session of 1747, with the concurrence
of Dr. Hamilton, the professor of botany, besides
lecturing on the practice of physic, he gave lectures,
in conjunction with Mr. John Garrick, the assist-
ant of Dr. Hamilton, on materia medica and botany.
Dr. Cullen in the j)hysic class never read his kctures;
in allusion to which practice, he observed, "Written
lectures might be more correct in the diction and
fluent in the style, but they would have taken up too
much time that might be otherwise rendered useful.
I shall be as correct as possible; but perhaps a fami-
liar style will prove more agreeable than a formal
one, and the delivery more fitted to command atten-
tion."

As the institution of a course of lectures on
chemistry was essential to a regular medical school.
Dr. Cullen proposed to the faculty of the university
of Glasgow, that lectures shoukl be given on that
branch of science by himself, and Mr. John Garrick,
brother of Robert Garrick, Esq., of Hamilton,
who was at that time assistant to Dr. Hamilton, the
professor of anatomy. These proposals having been
approved, the lectures on chemistry were commenced,
by Mr. Garrick; but he being taken ill, the remain-
ing part of the course was delivered by Dr. Cullen.
In commencing his second course of chemistry, Dr.
Cullen printed and distributed among his students,
"The plan of a course of chemical lectures and ex-
periments, directed chiefly to the improvement of arts
and manufactures, to be given in the college of
Glasgow during the session 1748." But besides
these lectures, Dr. Cullen, in the summer of 1748,
gave lectures in conjunction with Mr. Garrick on
materia medica and botany. Of the lectures delivered
on materia medica only a few fragments of notes
have been preserved, and these are not sufficient to
afford a precise idea of the general plan which he
followed. The lectures on materia medica and
botany were again delivered in 1749; but how long
they were delivered after that period has not been
ascertained.' In his lectures on botany Dr. Cullen
followed the system of Linnaeus, and by so doing
displayed no ordinaiy sagacity; for although the
natural arrangements of Jussieu and Dccandolle arc
now chiefly taught in the universities of this country,
yet the artificial classification of Linna;us was the
ladder by which botanists ascended securely to the
generalizations of the natural system, and is still of
great use in determining generic and specific distinc-
tions. After Dr. Cullen discontinued his lectures on
botany, he still pursued his botanical studies; as
appears from a letter of a Danish physician, which
contains the answer of Linnceus to certain queries
that had been referred to him by Dr. Cullen. Al-
ready it must be obvious that Dr. Cullen, in devoting
his attention so minutely to so many branches of
science, dis|:)laye(l a mind of no ordinary activity
and comprelicnsiveness. He seems, indeed, to have
felt in its full force the observation of Cicero, that
"all the sciences are connected, tendering to each
other a mutual illustration and assistance."

During the period that he lectured on chemistry
in (jlasgow, the celebrated Dr. Black became his
liupil, and Dr. Cullen was not long in discovering
the talents of his young student. Thus began a
mutual confidence and friendship which did honour
b-)lh to the professor and his pupil, and was always
mentioned by the latter with gratitude and resjiect.

1 /'A» Bee, vol. i. p. 7.

WHJ.IAM CULLEX.

4^

Dr. Black, after remaining nearly six years al the
college of Glasgow, left it to terminate his studies in
Edinburgh; and Dr. CuUcn continued to correspond
with him during the time of his studies. Many of
these letters have been preserved, and relate princi-
pally to the chemical investigations in which they
were mutually engaged; but Dr. Thomson observes
that, "during this intercourse. Dr. Cullen seems to
have been careful to avoid entering on any field of
inquiry in which he anticipated that his pupil might
reap distinction." A letter of Dr. Black's occurs,
wherein, alluding to this ungenerous procedure, he
thus addresses Dr. Cullen: — "I received your packet
of chemistry, which rejoiced me extremely. A new
experiment gives me new life ; but I wonder at the
reserve and ceremony you use with respect to me. Did
I learn chemistry from you only to be a bar to your
inquiries? The subject is not so limited as to l)e easily
exhausted, and your experiments will only advance
me so much further on." Ilelvetiusand many other
])hilosophers have maintained, that all mankind
must be more or less actuated by the dictates of self-
interest ; and difficult as it may be to analyze the
motives by which human conduct is often regu-
lated, yet it cannot be concealed that the narrow-
minded policy which Dr. Cullen in this instance
betrayed, was significant of a selfishness altogether
unworthy of the general tenor of his character.

During the period that Dr. Cullen lectured on
chemistry in Cllasgow, his attention was especially
ilirccted to the general doctrines of heat, on which
various observations are found among his manu-
scripts that have been preserved. The only essay
which he published on this subject appears in the
second volume of the lidiiibtirj^h Philosophical and
Literary Traitsactioits. He also, in the end of the
year 1753, transmitted to tiie Philosophical Society
of Edinburgh, a paper entitled, ^^ Some Rcjlections
on the Study of Chemistry, and an l''.ssay towards
ascertaining the Different Species of .Salts; being
I'art of a Letter addressed to Dr. John Clerk." 'Iliis
letter afforded a specimen of an elementary work on
chemistry which he at that time meditated, but
wliich, from other multifiirious occupations, he did
not execute. The reputation he was now daily
acquiring as a lecturer on chemistrs', obtained for
him the acquaintance of many persons of distinction
who were celebrated for their talents and love of
science. Among these was Lord Kaimes, then Mr.
Home, who, being devoted to scientific pursuits,
naturally found pleasure in the correspondence and
s'iciety of a man wliose mind was so congenial to
his own. Lord Kaimes was especially delightetl to
tind that Dr. Cullen had devoted so much attention
to his favourite pursuit, agriculture; and continually
urged him to jnililish a work on tliis important
science. That Dr. Cullen had at this period made
some ]irogress in the comjiosilion of a work on
agriculture we learn from Dr. Thomson, who in-
torms us of the existence of a manuscript, part of
wliich is in Dr. Cullen's own handwriting, entitled.
Rijicctions o'l the l''nuc:pl:s of .-l^^^riadture. Among
his papers there is .-K > an e^say On the Construction
and Operation 0/ t',e Plough: coin]iosed apparently
about the same perin.l. and read before some jniblic
society, most pro!i.;l]ly the I'hilosnjihical Society ia
the college of (li.i-gow. The object of thi^ e>say
was to explain the mechanical principles on which
]ilough> have been coii--tructei!, to t'lii 1 or.t v.iiat i^.
tiie imporiance and clfecl of each jiart. and to ex-
amine what variation eacli, or all of thcin, require
according to the dilTcreiice of soil in which they are
employed. In the year 1752 Dr. Cullen's opjicr-
tunities of culti\ a'.::)'' agriculture were increased hv

his undertaking to manage and improve the farm
of I'arkhcad, situated about eight miles from Glas-
gow, which he had purch.ased for his bnnher, Koljert
Cullen, Esfp, who was at the time employed in a
mercantile situ.ation in the Wot Indies. Hut much
as the attention of Dr. <."ullen was devoted to it, it
does not appear that he published anything theoretical
or pmctical on agriculture; but he corresponded with
Lord Kaimes very [larticularly on the subject, and
the letters that transpired i)etween them arc well
worthy of perusal.

Dr. Cullen, about the end of the year 1749, was
introduced to the Earl of Islay, afterwards the Duke
of Argyle; and, according to the autlvrnty of Dr.
Thomson, the introduction took place through the
interest of Lord Kaimes, who made a request to that
effect through Mr. Lind, the .secretary to the duke.
This ajipears from a letter addre^ised to Dr. Cullen
by Mr. -Martine, and which proceeds thus: — ".\ugust,
1749. Mr. Lind, at Mr. Home's desire, talked very
particularly about you to the Duke of .\rgyle; and
your friends here desire that you will wait on his
grace upon his arrival at Glasgow, which v.'ill be to-
morrow evening." We are furthermore informe<l
that the more immediate cause of J)r. Cullen's being
introduced to the Duke of Argyle at this time w.as to
obtain his grace's consent and patronage to his suc-
ceeding Dr. Johnstone as professor of medicine in
the Glasgow university. A venerable member of the
college of justice, who in his youth knew Dr. Cullen,
and remembers him well, has favoured us with tl.e
following anecdote: — .About this period the Duke of
Argyle, being confined to his room in Ko^eneath
Castle with swelled gums, sent for Dr. Cullen. His
grace, who was fond of dabbling occasi<jnally in
medicine, suggested a fumigation of a jiarticular kind,
and described an instrument which he thought would
be suited to administer it. Dr. Cullen, willing to
humour his new patron, instantly set off for Glasgow,
procured the instrument, which was made of tin,
according to the fashion described, and sent it early
next morning to Roseneath. The noble patient find-
ing it adaptetl to the purj>ose required, and feeling
himself better after the fumigation, was muLh ] lea-^ed
with the attention of his physician, in who^e \velfare
he sul)>e([uently took considerable inteix>t. The
Duke of .'Vrgyle ha<l himself been cdv.caled at the
university of Gla>gow, liad made a di>tinguished
figure there, and had chosen the law as his proiession.
lie afterwards studied law at I'trecht, l)ut on re-
turning to .Scotland changed his determination,
a<lopted the military ]irofos>ion, and became one of
the mo>t acconi])li>hed jioliticians of his age. \\\
the influence of this nobleman with the crown. Dr.
Cullen v.as ajipointed to be the ^ucce^~or of Dr.
Johnstone in the univer-ity of (ila.-gov.-. a:>l wa.^
formally admitted as the p:-ofe>^or ot r.;,.>i:c;r.e ;:i
that univer>ity on the 2d of Janu.-.ry, 1 751.

During the roidence of Dr. Cui'.cn in C:.^.-^- w. I>.-
still devoted a considerable j^orti^'n .T h;> time t .
chemistry, more e>]<ecially in\e-t:g.atir.g i'.- ."; ;.'Itca-
tion to the useful arts. He civ ieav. unci ] .-.rwCiiIarly
to suggest varioTis iinpr ivenicn:- v.: t!;'.- .;rt • 1 . .e.-ict.-
ing, and projio^vd an improve 1 wxW.' i ;:i t:;--" ir.-iTiu-
factureor inirit'ication ot c^ininiov. >al'. v..'..ili C":>is;id
in ]irecipitating tlic eartliv i;>^;c iic"*.- i ":ita;:-.Ld v.\
the brine ot'>ea-wa;rr !jv :■ - ■.■.■.'.: -:': • ■! c ;v:. ■ ■:: ; • ta>...
by which a -alt :. --:.:;::'. 1 :;. re yv:.- \\.:.\\ tl.at I're-
parjd in the ( r ;;;;ary 1:. a:. ::■_■; i a: > v:rg to \\..\
proje-> being to 1 c\l'e:>ivc to :■.■ a! ; tel 1:1 t;.'.'
manufacture of - 1/, • a, a l.ir^--' -..•.<.•. ;; :..-.- T.cver %a;
been hroii-ht iat- --avral a- a 1 L- v. r '• . ,,:i th:,
suhiect an e-^av. cat-iL-i A\ •'•:': < v lie: hni^,
rv',;,-!, v-'-iIm^ aa: la - h;-, aaiaa-Lli: t i.ap-jr- 'but

4oS

WILLIAM CULLEN.

appears never to have been published, although a
copy of it was presented to the Board of Trustees
for the Encouragement of Fisheries, Arts, and Manu-
factures in Scotland, in the records of which institu-
tion for June, 1755, it is mentioned that "three suits
of table linen had been given as a present to Dr.
William Cullen for his ingenious observations on the
art of bleaching."

From the period of his appointment to be professor
of medicine in the university of Glasgow until the
year 1755' ^-'■'- Cullen, besides his lectures on chemis-
try, delivered annually a course of lectures on the
theory and practice of physic. He also projected
at this period the design of publishing an edition of
the works of Sydenham, with an account in Latin of
his life and writings; but although he made some few
preparations to commence this work, he very shortly
abandoned the undertaking. Dr. Thomson informs
us that his private practice at this time, although ex-
tensive, was by no means lucrative, and as a consider-
able portion of it lay in the country, he had but little
time to pursue his scientific studies. These circum-
stances seem to have induced some of his friends to
propose his removing to Edinburgh. Lord Kainies
likewise wrote several letters to Dr. Cullen advising
him to transfer his residence to Edinburgh; and in
the year 1755, Dr. Plummer, the professor in the
chair of chemistry, having suffered an attack of
jmlsy, several candidates were put in nomination as
his successor, among whom were Dr. Home, Dr.
Black, and Dr. Cullen. Lord Kaimes in the mean-
time exerted himself in canvassing on the behalf
of Dr. Cullen ; the Duke of Argyle employed the
weight of his wliole interest in his favour; and after
the lapse of some months, Dr. Plummer still con-
tinuing unable to lecture, the town-council appointed
Dr. Cullen joint-professor of chemistry during the
life of his colleague, with the succession in the event
of his death. Dr. Plummer, however, did not survive
long; he died in the July following, and then Dr.
Cullen was elected sole professor of chemistry in the
university of lulinburgh.

The admission of Dr. Cullen into that university
constitutes a memorable era in its history. Hitherto
chemistry had been reckoned of little importance,
and the chemical class was attended only by a very
few students; but he soon rendered it a favourite
study, and his class became more numerous every
session. From tiie list of names kcj^t by Dr. Cullen
it ap[)ears that during his first course of lectures the
numberamounted only toseventeen; during thesecond
course it rose to fifty-nine; and it went on gradually
increasing so long as he continued to lecture. The
greatest r.uniber that attended during any one session
v.'as 145; "and it is curious to observe," says Dr.
Thomson, "that several of those jnipils who after-
wards distinguished themselves by their acquirements
or writings had attended three, four, five, or even six
courses of these lectures on chemistry." Dr. Cullen's
fame rests so much on his exertions in the field of
medical science that few are aware how much the
progress of chemical science has been indebted to him.
In the History of Chemislry, written by the late cele-
brated Dr. Thomson, jirofcssor of tiiat science in
Olasgow, we find the following just tribute to his
memory: — "Dr. William Cullen, to whom medicine
lies under deej) obligations, and who afterwards raised
the medical celebrity of the collegf> of EdinlnuLdi to
so high a pitch, had the merit of first ])erceiving the
importance f)f scientific cliemistry, and the rc])utation
which that man was likely to earn who should devote
himself to the cultivation of it. Hitherto chemistry
in Great Britain, and on the Continent also, was con-
sidered as a mere apjiendage to medicine, and useful

only so far as it contributed to the formation of new
and useful remedies. This was the reason why it
came to constitute an essential part of the education
of every medical man, and why a physician was con-
sidered as unfit for practice unless he was also a
chemist. But Dr. Cullen viewed the science as far
more important; as capable of throwing light on the
constitution of bodies, and of improving and amend-
ing those arts and manufactures that are most useful
to man. 1 le resolved to devote himself to its culti-
vation and im])rovement; and he would undoubtedly
have derived celebrity from this science had not his fate
led rather to the cultivation of medicine. But Dr.
Cullen, as the tnie commencer of the study of scien-
tific chemistry in Great Britain, claims a conspicuous
place in this historical sketch."'

Dr. Cullen's removal to Edinburgh was attended
by a temporary pecuniary inconvenience; forno salary
being attached to his chair in the university, his only
means of supporting himself and family were derived
from the fees of students, and such jsractice as he
could command : under these circumstances he ap-
pears to have undertaken a translation of Van
Svvieten's commentaries on Boerhaave, in which he
expected the assistance of his former pupils. Dr.
William Hunter and Dr. Black. But we have already
seen that his class became more numerously attended
every session; besides which, his ]3ractice also began
to increase, so that, his prospects having brightened,
he relinquished this undertaking. In addition to
lecturing on chemistry, he now began to deliver lec-
tures on clinical medicine in the Royal Infirmary.
This benevolent institution was opened in the De-
cember of 174I) !iii'l soon afterwards Dr. John
Rutherford, who was then professor of the practice
of physic, proposed to explain, in clinical lectures,
the nature and treatment of the cases admitted — a
measure highly approved of by the enlightened policy
of the managers, who, besides permitting students, on
paying a small gratuity, to attend the hospital at
large, appropriated two of its wards for the reception
of the more remarkable cases which wei'e destined,
under the selection and management of one or more
of the medical jirofessors, to alford materials for this
new and valuable mode of tuition. The privilege of
delivering a course of clinical lectures was granted by
the managers of the Royal Infirmary to Dr. Ruther-
ford in the year 1748, and in the following year ex-
tended to the other jirofessors of medicine belonging
to the university; none of whom, however, seem to
have availed themselves of it, excejiting Dr. Ruther-
ford, until the year 1757) when Dr. Cullen undertook
to deliver a course of such lectures, and was soon
joined in the ]ierformance of that duly by Drs. White
and Rutherford. Dr. Cullen soon obtained great
re])atation as a teacher of clinical medicine. "His
lectures," observes Dr. Thomson, "were distinguished
by that simi)licity, ingenuity, and comprehensiveness
of view which marked at all times the philosophical
turn of his mind; and I have been informed by several
eminent medical men who had an opportunity of
attending them, and more particularly by one v.ho
acted as his clinical clerk in 1765, were delivered
with that clearness and copiousness of illustration
with which in his lectures he ever instrucletl and de-
lighted his auditors. "-

In the winter session of 1760 Dr. Alston, who
was the ])rofessor of materia mcdica, died sluutly
after commencing his course of lectures for the season.
It was well known that Dr. Cullen had already de-

' Thr Hixtory nf Chemistry, \iy Thomas Tlioinson, M.I).,
F.R.S. IC, Profcbsor of Chemistry in the Uuivc-ibily of Glasgow.
18.;....

- I'liomson's Lift- of Cullen, vol. i.

WILLIAM CULLLN.

409

voted considerable attention to this branch of medical
science, and that he had lectured upon it in the uni-
versity of Glasijow; and the students of medicine
therefore presented a petition soliciting; him to lecture
in the plfce of Dr. Alston. Dr. Cullen accordingly
commenced a course of lectures on materia niedica in
the be^inninij of January, 1761. Some years after-
wards a volume was published entitled Lectures on
the Materia MeJica, as delivered ly William Cullen,
M.D., Professor of Medieitte in the C'ntTersity of
Edinburgh. Tlic work bein<; published without his
consent, Dr. Cullen applied to the Court of Chancery
for an injunction to prohibit its sale, which was im-
mediately granted. The physician who supplied the
booksellers with the notes is on ail hands admitted to
have been influenced by no pecuniary or unwortiiy
motive; but the professor objected to the work, com-
plaining "that it was by no means sufficiently perfect
to do him honour; that it had been unexpectedly
undertaken, and necessarily executed in a great hurry;
that it was still more imperfect from the inaccuracy
of the gentleman who had taken the notes," &c.
When, however, it was represented that a great
many copies were already in circulation. Dr. Cullen
was persuaded to allow the sale of the remaining
copies on condition "that he should receive a sliare
of the profits, and that the grosser errors in the work
sliould be corrected by the addition of a supplement."
Accordingly on these terms it was publislied, nor is
it doing more than an act of justice to state that it
contains all the information on materia medica which
was known at that period, and may yet be consulted
with advantage by the student.

In consef[uence of his increasing infirmities and
age. Dr. John Rutherford, the j^rofessor (jf the prac-
tice of physic, resigned his chair in I-"ebruary, 1766,
in favour of Dr. John Gregory, who had held for
several years the professorship of jihysic in the col-
lege of Aberdeen. Wiien his intention of resigning
became known, every effort was made by tlie friends
of Dr. Cullen to procure for him this professorship,
the duties of which he had, by his clinical labours in
the infirmary, proved himself eminently qualified to
discharge. The exertions of Dr. Cullen's friends,
however, proved unavailing, and Dr. Crcgnry was
duly appointed as the successor to Dr. Rutherford.
In the April of the same year the chair <jf the theory
of physic was vacated by the death of L^r. Wiiytt;
but we are informed that Dr. Cullen was so much
disgusted with the conduct of the patrons of the uni-
versity, and with the treatment he hail received in
relation to the chair of the practice of ]5hysic, that he
rather wished to retain tlie chair of chemistry than to
be translated to tliat of the theory of medicine. His
friends, however, earnestly urged him to take the
c'.iair vacated by the death of Dr. Whytt ; and on
this occasion he received the most flattering and
gratifying testimony of the esteem entertained towards
him, l)!jth l)y his fellow jirofessors and tlie student.-, of
the university. The professors came forward with a
pu!)lic addre>> to him, wherein, after expressiiig tlieir
conviction that lie was the most cnni]i(.-tent person to
teach tlie tlicory of medicine, tliey added, tliat they
"thought it a dii"y they o\\ed the town, the univer-
sity, and t!;e students uf physic, ar.d themselves, to
request of liiiii, in the iiM^; juiblic and earnest inanncr.
to rc--ign the prnfess,ir--hip of chcini>try. and to olVcr
himself t'l tlu- homiurahle patrons of tlie universitv
as a cantlidate lor the proiV-sioii oi the theory of
jihysic." The students also eanie i''>r'.vard and jire-
sented an addres-; to tlie lonl-j-irovo-t, iiiagistrale<,
and town-couneil, wherein they bohily stated. "We
are humbly of opiiii.'ii that the reputation of the uni-
versity and magi;tr.\te.-, llie guo.i of tlie city, and our

im[)rovement will all, in an eminent manner, l)e con-
sulted by engaging Dr. Gregory to relinquish the pru-
lessorship of the practice for that of the theory of
medicine, by a])pointing Dr. Cullen, present professor
of chemistry, to the practical chair, and by electing
Dr. 151ack professor of chemistry."

At length Dr. Cullen consented to l<ccome a can-
didate for the chair of Dr. Whytt, and was elected
professor of the institutes or theory of medicine, on
the 1st of .\oveml>er, 1766; and on the same day, his
friend and former i)upil, Dr. iJlack, was elected in his
])lace professor of chemistry. The proposal in the
address of the students respecting Dr. Cullen's lectur-
ing on the practice of medicine, being, both liy the
professors and succeeding students, urged on the
consideration of the patrons of the university, it was
agreed that Dr. Cullen should be permitted to lecture
on that s-abject, and accordingly, with Dr. (iregory's
permission. Dr. Cullen delivered a course of lectures
in the summer of 1768; and during the remainder of
Dr. Gregory's life, Drs. Cullen and Gregory con-
tinued to give alternate courses on the theory and
practice of physic. The death of Dr. (jregon.-, how-
ever, took place on the lOth of February, 1773, and
Dr. Cullen was immediately appointed sole prcjfessor
of the jiractice of physic.

While Dr. Cullen held the professorship <jf the
institutes of medicine, he published heads of lectures
for the use of students in the university; which
were translated into French, German, and Italian;
but he went no further than physiology. After suc-
ceeding to the chair of the practice of physic, he
]niblished his nosology, entitled Sytiopsis Xoso'.u'^iic
Melhodic(C. It ajipcared in two Svo volumes, which
were afterwards, in 1780, much improved. In this
valuable work he inserted in the hrst volume ab-
stracts of the nosological systems of .Sauvages, I.in-
nanis, \'ogel, and .Sagar; — and in the second his
own method of arrangement. His classification
and definitions of disense have done much to systema-
tize and facilitate the acquirement of medical know-
ledge;— not but that in some instances he may have
placedadiscase under an improi)erhead, ami in others
given definitions that are very im.pertect ; for these
are defects which consitlering the wide field he liad
to cxjilore, might reasonably liave been exj ected.
.Mthough it may be only an ajiproximation to a jer-
fect system, it is desirable to clns^iiy, as far as we are
able, the facts which constitute the grountlwork of
every science; otherwise they must be scattered over
a wide surface, or huddled together in a coiifi^sed
heap — the riidis indi^estaque tr.dis t't tlie ancient
]->oet. The definitions contained in this .Wa.V,., v
are not mere scholastic and unnecessary appeiKl.'.ges
to metlical science; — so far from this, they express
the leading ar.il characteristic sigr.s or t-.atures ot
certain diseases; and although it is true th.a: a ir.edicni
I^ractitioner, without recoliecting the iK llrit;' : s ol
Dr. Cullen. may recognise the very >.'.ir.e svr.:; •.oir.s
he has described, and refer them to ii.eir ; i.-; lv <;>•
ease, still this does not ]rnve th.at ti.e .;il:-.i::' r.s ■■. \
Cullen are the less u-elul to tlv. se v':o i.v.e : • t
seen so much i>ractice. ar.d wiio, ewn ^ tr.ev
h.ad, might pa-s over v.i'.li r.t c 1 -erv;r.g n..'.r.y
symptoms to which, I'V th.o-e i;e:i:. ;■:•:>, "re.r at-
tention is cailed. The jrcll--. 1- ;-.:..! teneh.!.!- <>\
everv science know the i'.ece--.ty < I ;r. ■.■.;c;;:g t/.e;:
puiiils to arrr.nge and ci ■■.n •.•;■/, '.-.-ite ihe;r \..' \\
everv suMeet, in a c!ea;- :.:•': di-tiixt i-a:;ner:

efiecting tli;-. the sti;!
Cullen Iia-, been f .uiv! s
stantly used by tl'.e sf.;.i
find that, even ahheu-ii t
sent reiiuire them to rej '

•J. -v

■ of the .\-. .-. V of V.,.

■ i>.fi;l. t':a: ;: i^ -till c. ::-
:,;- kA' tiie i:::;sersity, w i;o

:e:r rrolV^or;- do not at pre-
at tl.e de;i:.itijn; of disease

410

WILLIAM CULLEN.

given by Dr. Cullen verbatim, still they cannot express
themselves, nor find in any other nosological work,
the method or manner of describing the characteristic
symptoms of disease so concisely and correctly given
as in iiis Nosola:^}'. Accordingly, notwithstanding
the march of medical knowledge, and notwithstand-
ing the iVosoIogy of Dr. Cullen was published three
quarters of a century ago, it is still the text-book of
the most distinguished medical schools in Europe,
and some years ago an improved edition of it was
edited by the learned translator of Magendit:, Dr.
Milligan'

When Dr. Cullen succeeded to the chair of the
practice of physic, the doctrines of Bocrhaave were
in full dominion; but these Dr. Cullen felt him-
self justified ill relinquishing, although his doing so
made him appear guilty of little less than heresy
in the eyes of his professional contemporaries.
The first edition of Dr. Cullen's Practice of Physic
was published in 1775; — it spread rajiidly through
Europe, and is said to have produced the author
about _^30OO sterling — a very considerable sum in
those days. Pinel and Bosquillon published several
translations of it in Paris; and it also appeared
translated into German, Italian, and Latin. The
system of medicine explained and advocated by Dr.
Cullen in his lectures and in his work, The First
Lilies of the Practice of Physic, is raised on the found-
ation which had previously been laid by Hoffman,
who pointed out more clearly than any of his pre-
decessors, the extensive and powerful influence of the
nervous system in producing and modifying the dis-
eases to which the human body is liable. Although
the study of pathology does not appear to have been
so zealously pursued at tliat period as it is at present,
yet Dr. Cullen, in his course of clinical instruction,
always dwelt on the importance of inspecting the
bjdies of those who died under his treatment, and
connecting \\\(t post-mortem morbid appearances with
the symptoms that had been exhibited during life.
In addressing a letter to Dr. Balfour Russel, the
author of the best work on the plague published in
this country, he observes, "You will not find it
impossible to separate practice from theory alto-
gether; and therefore if you have a mind to begin
with the theory, I have no objection. I think a
systematic study of the pathology and mcthodits med-
eiidi will be necessary previous to the practice, and
you may always have in view a system of the whole
of physic." liut notwithstanding this, it must be
admitted that Dr. Cullen was too fond of theorizing,
and like all other philosophers who are anxious to
frame a particular system, he often commenced
establisliing his sujjerstructure before having accumu-
lated a suft'icient number of facts to give it a secure
foundation. I lence the works of Bonetus, Morgagni,
and Lieutaud ontain more pathological knowledge
than those published at a later date l)y Dr. Cullen.

Dr. Cullen, in discharging his duties as a i)ro-
fessor both in Cilasgow and 1-dinburgh, took very
great pains in the instruction of his students; iierhajw
he is entitled to the credit of having taken a deeper
and more sincere interest in their jjrogress than any
])rofessor with whose history we are acquainted. Dr.
James Anderson, who was his pujiil an<l friend, bears
the most unequivocal testimony to his /.eal as a ]uii)lic
teacher. " For more than thirty years, "says he, "that
th.e writer of tiiis article has been lionoured witli his
acquaintance, he has had access to know that Dr.
Cullen was in general employed from five to six
hours every day in visiting his patients, and ])re-
scribing for those at a distance who consulted him in
writing; and that, during the session of the college,
which, in Edinburgh, lasts from five to six mojitli.i,

he delivered two public lectures of an hour each,
sometimes four lectures a day, during five days of
the week; and towards the end of the session, that
his students might lose no part of his course, he
usually, for a month or six weeks together, delivered
lectures six days every week; yet, during all that
time, if you chanced to fall in with him in public or
in private, you never perceived him either embar-
rassed or seemingly in a hurry; but at all times he
was easy and cheerful, and sociably inclined; and in
a private party of whist, for sixpence a game, he
could be as keenly engaged for an hour before
supper, as if he had no otlier employment to mind,
and would be as much interested in it as if he had
;^iooo depending on the game."' Dr. Anderson
further informs us that "the general conduct of Dr.
Cullen to his students was this; — with all such as he
observed to be attentive and diligent he formed an
early acquaintance, by inviting them by twos, by
threes, or by fours, at a time, to sup with him; con-
versing with them on these occasions with the most
engaging ease, and freely entering with them on the
.subject of their studies, their amusements, their dif-
ficulties, their hopes, and future prospects. In this
way he usually invited the whole of his numerous
class, till he made himself acquainted with their
abilities, their private characters, and their objects
of pursuit. Those among them whom he found most
assiduous, best disposed, or the most friendless, he
invited most frequently, until an intmiacy was gra-
dually formed which proved highly beneficial to them.
Their doubts with regard to their objects of study
he listened to with attention, and solved with the
most obliging condescension. His library, which
consisted of an excellent assortment of the best books,
especially on medical subjects, was at all times open
for their accommodation, and his advice in every case
of difficulty to them, they always had it in their power
most readily to obtain. From his general acquaint-
ance among the students, and the friendly habits h.e
was on with many of them, he found no difficulty in
discovering those among them who were rather in
hampered circumstances, without being obliged to
hurt their delicacy in any degree. He often found
out some polite excuse for refusing to take payment
for a first course, and never was at a loss for one to
an after-course. Before they could have an 0]ipf)r-
tunity of applying for a ticket, he would lead the
conversation to some subject that occurred in the
course of his lectures, and as his lectures were never
put in writing by himself, he would sometimes beg
the favour to see their notes, if he knew they had
been taken with attention, under a pretext of assist-
ing his memory. Sometimes he would express a
wish to have their o]iinion on a particular part of his
course, and presented Ihcm with a ticket for that
purpose, and sometimes he refused to take jiaymcnt
under the ]iretext that they had not received his full
course in the ]MX'ceding year, some ]")art of it having
been necessarily omitted for want of time, which he
meant to include in this course. These were the
])articular devices he adojitcd with indivichials to
^vhom economy was necessary, and it was a general
rule with him never to take money from any student
for more tiian two courses of the same set of lectures,
])erniitting liim to attend these lectures for as many
years longer as he pleased, gratis. He introduced
another generous principle into the university, which
ought not to be jmssed over in silciice. Before he
came to Edinburgh, it was the custom for medical
professors to accept of fees for medical assistance
when wanted, even from medical students them-

' 'J'hh IjCC, or Litoiiry Intelligencer,

WILLIAM CUI.LF.N.

4ti

selves, w!io were perhaps attending the professor's
own lectures at the time; but Ur. Cullen would never
take fees as a physician from any student at the
university, although he attended them when called
in with the same assiduity and care as if they had
been ])ersons of the first rank, who paid him most
liberally. This gradually induced others to adoi>t a
similar practice; so tiiat it has now become a general
rule at this university for medical professors to decline
taking any fees when tlieir assistance is necessary for
a student."'

Dr. Aiken, who was also a pupil of Dr. Cullen,
bears similar testimony to the generous conduct
manifested by him to his students. "He was cor-
dially attentive," says he, "to their interests; ad-
mitted them freely to his house; conversed with them
on the most familiar terms; solved their doubts antl
ilifficulties; gave them the use of his library; and, in
every respect, treated them with the respect of a
friend, and the regard of a parent."^ Nor was the
kind interest whicli Dr. Cullen took in the pursuits
of young persons confined to his students alone.
Mr. Dugald Stewart informed Dr. Thomson, that
during a slight indisposition which confined him for
some time to his room, when a boy of fourteen or
fifteen years of age, he was attended by Dr. Cullen.
In recommending to his patient a little relaxation
from his studies, and suggesting some light reading,
the doctor inquired whether he had ever read the
History of Don Quixote. On being answered in the
negative, he turned ([uickly round to Mr. Stewart's
father, and desired that the book should be imme-
diately procured. In his subsequent visits to his
patient, Dr. Cullen never failed to examine him on
the progress he had made in reading the humorous
story of the great pattern of chivalry, and to talk
over with him every successive mcident, scene, and
character in that history. In mentioning these
particulars, Mr. .Stewart remarked that lie never
could look back on that intercourse without feeling
surprise at the minute accuracy with which Dr.
Cullen remembered every passage in llie life of Don
Quixote, and the lively manner in which he sym-
]5athized with him in the pleasure he derived from
the first perusal of that entertaining romance. In
what degree of estimation Mr. Stewart continued to
hold that work may be seen by the inimitable char-
acter which he has given of it in his dissertation on
t!ie progress of metaphysical, ctliical, and political
philosophy.^

Dr. Cullen, after having been elected professor of
the practice of medicine, devoted his time entirely to
his duties as a public lecturer, and to his profession;
for his fame having extended, his private ]iractice
became very considerable. Already we have ob-
served that he had a large family; and about this
time, having become acquainted with the celebrated
John IJrown, a sketch of whose life we have already
given in this /iurrrathical Dictionary, he engaged
him to live in his family as the precejitor of his chil-
dren, and alscj as an assistant at his lectures, the
sui)stance of which IJrown rejieated and expoimded
in the evening to his students; for which ]iurpose tlie
manuscript n;);.es of tiie morning lectures were
generallv intru-^ted to him. It is well known that
the habits of foiin llrown were extremely irregular.
.■M'ler having been his mii-,t favourite pupil, he be-
came the ino---t intimate of Dr. Cullea's friends; but
tliree or f'lw years afterwards a (juarrel took place
between them. aUer which they ever regarded each
other with feelini/- of the most determined hostilitv.

' r.iu;r.ij;-.'a L fc cf Dr. Chlien, v

, vol. I. yy. 4t, 4.^.
I. p. 131.

John Brown soon l>ccamc the founder and champion
of a system of medicine opjxjsed to thai of Dr.
Cullen; and the jiahLitra where the opponents and
a<lvocates of Ixjth theories met, and where their
dis]nitalions were carried on with the greatest vigour,
was the hall of the medical society. '1 he doctrines
of Cullen had there, stjme years i)reviously, triumphed
over those of lioerhaavc; but they in their turn were
now destined to receive a shock from the zealous
ailvocates of the new theory, which was warmly
espoused by many, both at home and abroad.

Dr. Cullen continued to deliver his lectures until
within a few months of his death, when, feeling him-
self subdued by tlie infirmities of age, he wa.s in-
duced to resign his jirofessor^hip ; "but for .some
years before his death," observes Dr. James Ander-
son, "his friends perceived a sensible decline of that
anlour and energy of mind which characterized him
at a former period. Strangers, who had never .seen
him before, could not be sensible of this change; nor
did any marked decline in him strike them, for his
natural vivacity still was such as might ])xss in
general as the unabated vigour of one in the prime
of life." He resigned his professorshi]) in the end
of December, 1789, and on this occasion received
many honourable testimonies of regard from the
different public societies in Edinburgh. The lord-
provost, magi.strates, and town -council j)resented
him with an elegant piece of silver plate with a
siutable inscription, in acknowledgment of the ser-
vices he had rendered to the university and to the
community. The senatus academicus of the uni-
versity, the medical society, the physical society, and
many other scientific and literary societies, vole<l
addresses to him, expressive of the high sense enter-
tained of his abilities and services. The physical
society of America also forwarded to him a similar
address, and concluded by expressing tlie same wish
which had been likewise eml>odied in the other
addresses. It thus concludes: — "And, finally, we
express our most cordial wishes that the evening of
your days may be crowned with as great an exemp-
tion from pain and langour as an advanced state of
life admits of, and with all the tranquillity of mint!
which a consciousness of diffusive benevolcr.ee to
men and active worth asjnres." The several deputa-
tions from these ]Hd)lic bodies were received by his
son Henry, who re] 'lied to them by acknowledging
the satisfaction which they gave to his father, and
the regret he felt that, in consequence of his ill state
of health, he was unable to meet them ai.d exjires.s
his sentiments in person to then^.*

Dr. Cullen did not long survive his resignation of
the ]irofessorship; he lingered a few weeks, and died
on the 5th of r"e!)ruary, 1790, in the eightieth ye.ir
of his age. His fimeral was a jirivate one, and took
place on the following Wednesday, tlie loth oi
I*"ebruary ; when his remains, attended by a select
nund)er of friends, were interred in liis buri.d-place
in the churchyard of Kirk Newton, near his h..u-e
of Ormiston 'llill, in the ne;gld.)ouih'). m1 uf I'.d^r,-
burgh.

Of tlic character nf Dr. Cullen in the m.Te rctiie 1
circle of private lite v.e kn iw lifile, P w .ar.cei.ites
having been prc^ervcvl ilh:stia;;ve
of his habits. disiK.siti.r.i, or^: -me
have been int'orined. liy one v. 1
well, that he had r.o ser.-e mS' il
He Used to put large s.ir.i-; ii.t'i
which he and liis -^Mle \vxr.t uiien
wanted money. He a:. 1 1..- w,:/
nianv wiio rec<d!e^t tii- :u have 1

i";!u
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J..nu.ir^-

412

ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM.

the delightful evenings they always spent whenever
they visited them. Dr. Cullen's external appearance,
says his friend Dr. Anderson, though striking and
not unpleasing, was not elegant. His countenance
was expressive, and his eye, in particular, remark-
ably lively, and at times wonderfully expressive. In
his person he was tall and thin, stooping very much
about the shoulders. When he walked lie had a
contemplative look, and did not seem much to re-
gard the objects around him.^ It remains only for
us to add, tliat the doctrines promulgated by Dr.
Cullen, which have had so great an influence on
medical science, are now keenly contested ; but
whether in after-years they stand or fall, all parties
must unite in paying a just tribute of admiration
to the genius and acquirements of a man wlio
was certainly an ornament to the age in \\ hich he
lived.

CUNNINGHAM, Alexander, fiftli Earl of
(ilencairn, was the son and successor of William, the
fourth earl, and the seventeenth in descent from the
founder of his family, Warnebald de Cunningham, a
Norman settler under Ilughde Moreviile, Constable
of Scotland, who died in 1162.

There is hardly any patriotic name in Scottish
history entitled to more of the credit of a firm and
zealous pursuit of liberty, than Alexander, Earl of
Glencairn. His fiilher, having been one of the
Scottish nobles taken prisoner at Solway Moss, was
gained over in England to the interest of tlie Refor-
mation, which he undertook to advance in his own
country. The subject of this memoir was therefore
introduced, at an early period, into the political con-
vulsions which took ])lace on account of religion
and the English alliance, during the minority of
Queen Mary. He succeeded his father in 1547, and
on the return of John Knox in 1554 was one of those
who openly resorted to hear him preach. The re-
former was afterwards received by the earl at liis
house of Finlayston, where the sacrament of the
Lord's supper was dispensed, according to the forms
of the Church of Geneva, to his lordship, his tenantry,
and friends. When Knox was summoned to appear
liefore a Romisli tribunal, on a charge of preaching
lieretical doctrine, he was recommended by the earl
and others to write a letter of remonstrance to the
(lueen-rcgent, which Glencairn was so bold as to
deliver into her own hands. It was of this letter
that th.; qu^'cn said, in lianding it afterv/ards to
Archbiih'jp I'eaton, "I'k-asc you, my lord, to read
a ijasquil." The Earl of Glencairn was one of those
eminent persons who, in 1557, associated themselves
in a covenant, for the purpose of promoting the
e^ta!)lishment of tlie reformed religion in .Scotland.
Tiiis body has received in history the well-known
title of '"Lords of tlie Congregation.'' In all the
subsequent struggles with existing authority, Glen-
cairn took an active ari I prominent ]iart. ISeing
deputed, in 155S, along with his relative, Sir Hugh
Campbell of I>oudoun, to remonstrate with thefjueen
against her intended prosecution of tlie preachers,
she answered, that "in spite of all they could do,
these men should be banished, allhough they preached
as soundly as ever did St. Paul." 'i'lie earl and Sir
Hugh then reminded her of a farmer jironiise to a
dilferent effect; to which she answered, that "ihe
])romises of jirinces were no further to be urged upon
them for performance than it sto(jd to tlieir coii-
veniency." The two deputies then informed her,
that "if these were her sentiments, they would no
longer be her subjects ;" which staggered her so much

J Tiu' Bcc, or Litirary Jiitcligeitccr, vol. i. p. if 6.

that she said she would advise. In May, 1559,
when the reformers drawn together at Perth found
it necessary to protect themselves by force of arms
from the ilesigns of this princess, letters were sent
into Ayrshire, as into other parts of Scotland, de-
siring all the faithful to march to that town, in order
to defend the good cause. The reformers of Ayr-
shire met at the kirk of Craigie, where, on some
Objections being started, the Earl of Glencairn "in
zeal burst fortli in these words, 'Let every man serve
his conscience. I will, by God's grace, see my
brethren in St. Johnston : yea, albeit never a man
shall accompany me; I will go, if it were but with a
pick [mattock] over my shoulder; fori had rather
die with that company than live after them.'" Ac-
cordingly, although the ([ueen-regent planted gxiards
on all the rivers in Stirlingshire to prevent his
approach, he came to Perth in an incredibly short
space of time, with 1200 horse and 1300 foot, having
marched night and day in order to arrive in time.
The appearance of so determined a leader, with so
large a force, subdued the regent to terms, and might
be said to have sa\ed the cause from utter destruc-
tion. Besides serving the reformers with his sword
and feudal influence, he wielded the pen in the same
cause. Knox has preserved, in his History of the
Reformation, a clever pasquinade by the earl ujjon a
shameless adherent of the old religion — the hermit of
Lorctto, near Musselburgh. After he had seen the
triumph of the Protestant faith in 1559-60, he was
nominated a member of Queen Mary's privy-council.
Zeal for the same faith afterwards induced him to
join in the insurrection raised against the queen's
authority by the Earl of Murray. After her mar-
riage to Eothwell, he was one of the most active of
the associated lords by whom she was dethroned.
At Carberry, where he had an important command,
when the Erench ambassador came from the queen,
promising them forgiveness if they v,ould disperse,
he answered, with his characteristic spirit, that
"they came not to ask pardon for any offence they
had done, but to grant pardon to those who had
offended." After the queen had been consigned to
Lochleven, he entered her chapel at Holyrood Plonse
with his domestics, and destroyed the whole of the
images and other furniture. 'I'his he did from the
impulse of his own mind, and without consulting
any of his friends. In the whole of the subsequent
proceedings for establishing the Protestant cause
under a regency, he took a zealous part. His lord-
slii]:) died in 1574, and was succeeded by jiis son
William, the sixtii carl.

CUNNINGHAJVI, Alkxandkr. 'Ihis learned
scholar and critic, the exact i\-A\i:. of whose birth is
so uncertain that we can oidy suppose it to have
been somewlure between 1650 and 1660, was the
son of John Cunningham, minister of Cumnock in
Ayrshire, and proprietiir of the small estate of IJlock
in the same county. At what place he was educated
is equally uncertain, and the first situation we hear
of him as holding, was that of tutor to Lord Cieorgc
Douglas, younger son of the first Duke of Queens-
berry. It was probably through the influence of
this noble family that Alexander Cunningham was
ap])oiiited professor of the civil law in the university
of Edinbundi, near the end of the seventeenth cen-
tur\-. His teinire of office, liowever, was not ]U'r-
Mianent, but through no fault of his own. TheDukt:
of (^)ueensl)erry, who had been commissioner of
CHieen Anne in the establishment of the union, died,
and the chair \\'hich Cunningham occuiiied, being
probably a royal ])rofessorship, was ignored by the
Edinburgh magistrates, who considered tliemselves

ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM.

4'3

as tlie only patrons of the university. It was also a
period when every class in Scotland was especially
susceptible about the national independence, and
disposed to watch their own corporate privile<;cs
with a jealous eye. Without recognizinjj, therefore,
the appointment of Cunninj^hain, the magistrates
appointed a professor of civil law chosen by them-
selves, in 1 710, after the other had nominally at least
held tiie oflice during the twelve previous years.

It is su])posed by his talented bioj^rapher. Dr.
Irving, tliat Cunningham, from his superior know-
letlge of philology and the civil law, must have
completed his course of academical study, not in
Scotland, where tliese departments of learning were
not especially cultivated, but at Leyden or Utrecht,
the chief schools of the Scottish jurisconsults and
classical scholars of that age. This supposition is
made the more probable from Cunningham's choice
of liis future home. Devoted exclusively to the i)ur-
suit of learning, he adopted Holland for his country,
and settled himself for life at the Hague; and as iVom
his small patrimonial estate of Block, and a ])ension
from the Queensberry family, he was in easy cir-
cumstances, he was enabled to pursue his peaceful
occupations witliout interruption, and acquire high
reputation as a classical scholar. 'Die iustice of this
character was afterwards confirmed by his edition
of Horace, whicli appeared in 1 72 1. The notes of
this edition are brief, and chiefly refer to the various
readings of the text; but it appears to have been
intended merely as liie jirecursor of a larger work of
tile same kind, illustrated witli fuller annotations,
which, however, w.as never published. ]>ut accom-
panying his edition of Horaci', was a volume, chiefly
consisting of animadversions upon the notes and
alterations which Hentley had made upon the Roman
])oet. Tliat great Kngli.^h Aristarchus of classical
literature had published an edition of JLirucc ten
years earlier, in wliich his piiilological aciiteness and
want of poetical jierceplion were equally conspicuous,
so that in his emendations he too often sacrificed the
beauty of the idea to the fancied incorrectness of a
word, and by his proposed reading converted a
beautifully-imaginative picture into dull common-
place prose. It was to redeem tlie great ornament
of the Augustan period of Roman poetry from such
unwarrantaiile liberties tliat Cunningliam produced
tliis separate volume, in wliich he successively
rescued IIo>\:l\' from the strange readings with which
the English critic had disfigured his verses. It was
not, however, to be supposed that "slashing I'cntley,"
who regarded his own emendations upon a Greek or
Latin text as infallible, would brook sucli contradic-
tions with jiatience, antl he must have been still
more highly incensed to I'lnd that the learned world
were acknowledging the justice of Cunningham's
corrections, and declaring that the I-2nglish schnlar
had at last met wil'.i his match. The learned Sci.>t
was now recognized and proclaimed as the most al)le
of IJentley's critical antagonists.

.After pa><ing the uneventful life of a >tudent, in
which his existence was chiefly known, and his worth
recognized by his writings, Cunningham died in the
year 1730. The publications that bjar his name are
tlie fjllowing: —

Alexandri t.auiningh.nmii .•Vnimadver-.ioiics in
Richardi I'-entleii Noia-. et Lmcu'lationcs ad (J.
1 loratium Flaccuni. 1 lagaeComitur.i, r.pudThnmani
Johnsoniuni, 1 72 1, Sv.i.

O. Horalii l-'Iacci I'oomata. Lx antiijuis codd.
et certis ol)-;ervationil)Tis cmcndavil, vari.i.>(|ue scri])-
torum et inipre>-.iruiii lectiones adjccit -Alexander
Cuiminghamii;-. 1 l:\g.ie Co:nituin, a; ;-. 1 Tiiomam
Johnsoniuni, 172 1, 8\'j.

P. Virgillii Maronis Bucolica, Georgica, et Aeneis,
ex recen>ione Alexandri Cunninghamii Scoti, cujus
emendationes subjiciuntur. Kdinburgi, apud G.
Hamilton et J. lialfour, 1743, 8vo.

I'haedri August! Libert i Labularum Acsopiarum
libri quimpie, ex cmendatione .Mexandri Cunning,
hamii Scuti. Accddunt J'ublii Syri, ct aliorum
vcterum Sententiae. I'.dinburgi, apud G. Hamilton
ct J. Ralfour, Academiae Typographos, 1757, 8vo.

Besides these works, Cunningham had contem-
plated several which he did not live to fmish. lie-
sides his larger edition of Jluraa; he had enij)loyed
himself for many years upon a critical edition of the
I'andects, of which large exix-clations were formed,
and which, had it been finished, would have l>cen
the largest and most important of his j.ublications.
He had also made preparations for a work on the
evidences of the Christian religion, which, however,
he did not live to execute. His library, which w.a,
catalogued for sale after his death, was both curious
and valuable, and esiJccially abounded in the depart-
ments of philology and jurispnidence. To this
scanty notice we c.-m only add, that Cunningham
appears to have been as famed for his skiil in chcss-
l)Iaying as he was in scholarship and criticism. He
was indeed reckoned, according to the testimony of
the historian Wodrow, tlie be^t ehcss-player in
Euroj)c.

CUNNINGHAM, Alexanokr. This leanicd
sciiolar and historian has, from identity of name,
been often confounded with the suljject of the jjre-
ceding notice. He was a son of Alexan<ier Cun-
ningham, minister of Ettrick in Selkirkshire, but
at what date he was born we are unable to ascertain.
At first he was educated at Selkirk school, but bein,'
destined for the church, his studies were continued
in Holland, as was the custom with Scotti.-,h theologi-
cal students during the latter part of the seventeenth
century. He was also employed as a travelh'.ig
tutor both in the Argyle and Newca~lle families,
and having studied the law of Englan<l, was distin-
guished as a chamber-counsel, but never jileaded .t
tlie bar. To these few itarticulars it may be addcil.
lliat he travelled on the Continent as tutor with Janie-.
afterwards Earl (/f ilyiuiford, and the Ib>n.. XViliiani
Carmichael, afterwards solicitor-general A <r .^^cotland ;
that they jiassed two winters at Utreclit r.nd h'ran-
eker between the vears 1692 and 1695; ar.d that he
had visited Rmne in 1699 or the beginning of 1700.
In these j.rofessional tours he also collected a con-
siderable number of books, and was learned and
curious in their select :o;i. It al-o .-.ppears that in
such a life of travel and secular stuciies, he liad alo.n-
(lonc<l his original jiurposcof devotir.g hiir.--eli to tlie
r.rinistn,-, as no further mention is made o! it.

After his engagements as a travelling tr.tor were
ended, AlexanderCunninghani. in I70l.wa~en.; :• -ye.]
in a dilTerent cajiacity, being ser.t to l'i..:.^e by K;':g
William, to coiv.iuct a neL;oc;a'.;on C' ':'.i.. ir ;; g w.'^
trade between France and Scotland. V::\ wi:h th.^
ostcnsii>le object of his mission certair. -Lixt dr.tA-
of a different kind were coiinocte'l. r.r-i l:e a] ; eai.^
to have furnislie i h'.s royal ir.a-ter \'. :':\ r.-r. exael ac-
count of the miii'.ary jn-ej ara'.:. '^;- at ;. ..'.■. Mr.e v.,r..c
in i'rancc— inteliigcnco whieii \\a- n:' i ■.;;.:• .1: ant to
William, tiian t'le j^r ■-•uvity -•:" li.e i- :a:.- i;urel5an-
dise of Scotbivl. In 1703 h- i- al- . -a; i t^ ha\e
visited Hanover. vi:eie V. ■ ^^n- grav l-a-ly rece.ved
bytlieeleci or (a:':erv.a: i^C^ ■!-■-■ l.'ar it: e I'rince-.
Soi)liii. This i~ n-t uid.ki ly. if we take ::::o account
t!ie vital importance oi' tlie Har verian <.cce-ioii,
the -t'-at j.'.I:::cal sr.i'iect cf the ]er;..l. and the
nrlnc:- ics oi" Caa::::' laini. v aicii w.re tl- --e of a de-

414

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

cided Whig. During the reign of George L he was
appointed minister to the state of Venice, and held
that office from 1715 to 1720. His residence during
the latter part of his life appears to have been London,
but at what period he died we are unable to discover.
We only know that he was living in 1735, from an
intimation that in that year the Earl of Hyndford
visited him in London.

It is probable that, notwithstanding the learning
and active life of Cunningham, and the important
political events with which he was connected, he
might have passed away without remembrance, had
it not been for a large work in MS. written in I-atin,
which long after his death came into the possession
of Dr. HoUingbery, archdeacon of Chicliestcr, whose
family was nearly connected with the deceased. This
was The History of Great Britain, fro»i the Rezvliition
of 1688 to the Accession of George I. Finding tliat it
contained "many curious anecdotes and facts which
have escaped otlier historians, and threw new light
on several important transactions in this kingdom,"
the archdeacon resolved to publish it; not, however,
in the original Latin, which would have found very few
readers, but translated into English. Being unaljle,
however, from ill health to accomplish such a task, he
delegated it to Dr. Thomson, author of the continua-
tion of IVatson^s History of Spain, by whom a spirited
translation of Cunningham's history was published in
two volumes 4to in London in 1787. In the intro-
duction to the publication Dr. Thomson stated, "It
may be necessary, in announcing tlie worJc now offered
to the public, to premise tliat it is neither a repul)li-
cation, nor a mere compilation of facts; that it is
not addressed merely, though it certainly be in part,
to a passion for anecdotes and antiquities; and that
it is not dictated by a spirit of controversy. It is
the production of a man wlio, having lived long on
the stage, and conversed with the principal actors in
public life, is animated by the recent scenes which
he had seen, and in some of which he himself had
acted a part. It contains facts that have passed un-
observed by other historians; some, though not new
when considered separately, arc selected, disposed,
and descril^ed with a skill which bestows on tliem all
the grace of novelty; and tlie whole of them, whether
new or old, are united by a principle of connection
into one interesting view, whicli makes an impres-
sion on the mind of something tliat is uniform and
entire." The readers of the end of the last century
bore witness to the truth of tliis eulogium, by the
relish with which they perused the work, and the
popularity into which tliey raised it; and altliougli,
with those of the present day, Cunningliam's History
of Great Britain, from the RcT'olulion of 1688 to the
Accession of George /., is now little known, tliis is llie
less to be regretted, as the information it conveys
has been absorbed into the histories of more recent
origin. It is much that such a work can so survive,
and be useful even when its individuality is forgot.

CUNNINGHAM, Allan. This di>tinguishcd
poet entered the world under tliose lowly circum-
stances, and was educated under those disadvantages,
which have so signally characterized the history of
tlie l)est of our Scottish bards. He was born at
IMackwood, in Dumfriesshire, in 1785, and was the
fourth son of his parents, wlio were persons in tlie
humblest ranks of life. One circumstance, however,
connected with his ancestry must liave gratified tlic
Tory and feudal predilections of Allan Cunningliam;
for his family had been of wealth and worshi]), until
one of his forefathers lo^t the i)atrimonial estate Ijy
siding with Montrose during tlie wars of tlie Com-
monwealth. A more useful circumstance for his

future career was his father's love of Scottish anti-
quarianism, which induced him to hoard up eveiy
tale, ballad, and legend connected with his native
country — a love which Allan quickly acquired and
successfully prosecuted. Like the children of the
Scottish peasantry, he was sent to school at a very
early age; but he does not seem to have been par-
ticularly fortunate in the two teachers under whom
he was successively trained, for tliey were stern Came-
ronians; and it was probably under their scrupulous
and over-strict discipline that he acquired that ten-
dency to laugh at religious ascetism which so often
breaks out in his writings. He was removed from
this undesirable tuition at the tender age of eleven,
and bound apprentice to a stone-mason; but he still
could enjoy the benefit of his father's instructions,
whom he describes as possessing "a warm heart,
lively fancy, benevolent humour, and pleasant happy
wit." Another source of training which the young
apprentice enjoyed was the "trystes"and "rockings"
so prevalent in his day — rural meetings, in which the
mind of Burns himself was prepared for the high
office of being the national poet of .Scotland. The
shadows of tiiese delightful "ploys" still linger in
Nithsdale and some of the more remote districts of
Ayrshire; and it is pleasing to recall them to memory,
for the sake of those great minds tliey nursed, before
they have passed away for ever. They were com-
plete trials of festivity and wit, where to sing a good
song, tell a good story, or devise a happy impromptu,
was the great aim of the lads and lasses assembled
from miles around to the peat fire of a kitchen hearth,
and where the corypheus of the joyful meeting was
the "long-remembered beggar" of the district — one
who possessed more songs and tales than all the rest
of the country besides, and who, on account of the
treasures of this nature which he freely imparted,
was honoured as a public benefactor, and preferret'
to the best seat in the circle, instead of being regarded
as a public burden. But the schoolmaster and the
magistrate are now abroad ; and wliile the rockings
are fast disappearing, the Edie Ochiltree who in-
spired them is dying in the alms-house. May they
be succeeded in this age of improving change by
better schools and still more rational amusements !

While the youth of Allan Cunningham was trained
under tliis tuition, he appears also to have been a
careful reader of every book that came within his
reach. This is evident from the multifarious know-
ledge which his earliest productions betokened. He
had also commenced the writing of poetry at a very
early jieriod, having been inspired by the numerous
songs and ballads with whicli tlie poetical district of
Nithsdale is stored. When about tlie age of eighteen
he seems to have been seized with an earnest desire
to visit the Ettrick Shepherd, at that time famed as
a poet, but whose early chances of such distinction
had scarcely equalled his own; and forth accordingly
he set off in tliis his first pilgrimage of hero-worship,
accompanied by an elder brother. The meeting
Hogg has fully descriiied in his Reminiscences oj
former Days; and he particularizes Allan as "a dark
ungainly youth of about eighteen, with a boardly
frame for his age, and strongly marked manly features
— the very model of Burns, and exactly such a man."
Tlie stripling ]ioet, who stood at a bashful distance,
was introduced to the .Siiepherd by his biotiicr, who
a<lde(l, "You will be so kind as excuse this intrusion
(jf ours on your solitude; for, in tnith, I could get
no ])cace either night or day with Allan till I con-
sented to come and see you." "I tlien stepped
down tlie hill," continues Hogg, "to wlicre Allan
Cunningham still stood, with his weather-beaten
cheek toward me, and seizing his hard brawny liand,

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

4»5

I gave it a hearty sliake, saying something as kind as
I was able, and, at the same time, I am sure, as
stupid as it possibly could be. From that moment
we were friends, for Allan has none of the proverbial
Scottish caution about him; he is all heart together,
without reserve either of expression or manner: you
at once see the unaffected benevolence, warmth of
feeling, and firm independence of a man conscious of
his own rectitude and mental energies. Young as he
was, I had heard of his name, although slightly, and
I think seen two or three of his juvenile pieces.
. . . . I had a small bothy upon the hill, in
which I took my breakfast and dinner on wet days,
and rested myself. It was so small that we had to
walk in on all-fours, and when we were in we could
not get up our heads any way but in a sitting posture.
It was exactly my own length, and on the one side
I had a bed of rushes, which served likewise as a seat.
On this we all three sat down, and tliere we spent the
whole afternoon; and, I am sure, a happier group of
three never met on the hill of Queensberry. Allan
brightened up prodigiously after he got into tiie dark
bothy, repeating all his early pieces of poetry and
part of his brother's to me. . . . From that day
forward I failed not to improve my acquaintance
with the Cunninghams. I visited them several times
at Dalswinton, and never missed an opportunity of
meeting with Allan when it was in my power to do
so. I was astonished at the luxuriousncss of his
fancy. It was boundless; but it was the luxury of a
rich garden overrun with rampant weeds. He was
likewise then a great mannerist in expression, and no
man could mistake his verses for those of any other
man. I remember seeing some imitations of Ossian
by him, wliich I thought exceedingly good; and it
struck me that that style of composition was pecu-
liarly fitted for his vast and fervent imagination."

Such is the interesting sketch which Hogg has
given us of the early life and character of a brother
l)oet and congenial spirit. Tiie full season at length
arrived when Allan Cunningham was to burst from
his obscurity. Cromek, to the full as enthusiastic an
admirer of Scottish poetry as himself, was ci')llecting
his well-known rehcs; and in the course of his quest
young Cunningham was pointed out as one who
could aid him in the work. Allan gladly assented
to the task of gathering and preserving these old
national treasures, and in due time presented to the
zealous antic]uary a choice collection of apparentiv old
songs ancl ballads, which were inserted in tiie Rcniauis
of NithsdaU and Galloii'ay Sou;:;, published in iSio.
But the best of these, and especially the " Mermaid
of Galloway," were the production of Cunningham's
own pen. This Hogg at once discovered as soon
as the collection appeared, and he was zealous in
jiroclaiming to all his literary friends that ''.-XUan
Cunningham was the author of all that was beautiful
in the work." He communicated his convictions
also to Sir Walter Scott, who was of the same
opinion, and expressed his fervent wish that such a
valuable and original young man were fairly out of
C'pjm.'k's hands. Resolved that the world sliould
know to whom it was really indebted for so mucli
tine jioetry, Hogg next wrotea criticpie upon Croniek's
publication, w liicii he sent to tlie F.dinlnn\^ii Kciir^:
l)ut although Jeffrey was aware of the ruse which
Cunningham !iad practised, he did ntjt tliink it wortliy
of exposure. In this strange literary cx-ajiade the
poet scarcely appears to merit liie title of "honc-^t
Allan," which Su" Walter .'^cottsubscfjucntly bestowed
upon him, and ratlier to deserve the doubtful jdace
held by such writers as Clialterton, Ireland, and
Macpherson. It must, however, be ob.-.crved in ex-
tenuation, that Cunningham, by passing off his own

productions as remains of ancient Scottish song,
compromised no venerated names, as the others had
done. He gave them only as anonymous verses, to
which neither date nor author could Ik: assigne<l.

In the same year that Cromek's A'fmaitis were
published (l8io), Allan Cunningham abandoned his
humble an<l unhealthy occupation, and rci)aired lo
London, which was thenceforth to be his home. He
had reached the age of twenty-five, was devoted lieart
and soul to intellectual labour, and felt within him-
self the capacity of achieving something higher than
squaring stones and erecting country cottages. On
settling in London he addressed himself to the duties
of a literary adventurer with energy and success, so
that his pen was seldom idle; and among the journals
to which he was a contributor may be mentioned the
Literary Gazetlc, the Loudon Afagaziue, and the
Athemcnm. Lven this, at the best, was precarious,
and will often desert the most devoted indu;-try; but
Cunningham, fortunately, had learned a craft upon
which he was not too jiroud to fall back sIkjuUI
higher resources forsake him. Chantrey, the eminent
statuary, was in want of a foreman who combined ar-
tistic imagination and taste with mechanical skill and
exjierience; and what man could be better fitted for
the office than the mason, poet, and journalist, who
had now established for himself a considerable literarv-
reputation? \ union was formed between the pair
that continued till death; and the appearance of these
inseparables, as they continued from year to year to
grow in celebrity, the one as a sculptor and the other
as an author, seldom failed to arrest the attention of
the good folks of Pimlico as they took their daily
walk from the studio in Ecclestone Street to the
foundry in the Mews. Although the distance was
considerable, as well as a public thoroughfare, they
usually walked bareheaded, while the short figure,
small round face, and bald head of the artist vere
strikingly contrasted with the tall stalwart form, dark
bright eyes, and large sentimental countenance of tlie
poet. The duties of Cunningham in tlie capacity of
"friend and assistant,"' as Chantrey v.-as wont to term
him, were suft'iciently multifarious; and of these the
superintendence of the artist's extensive work-hop wa^
not the least. Tiie latter, although so (ii^tinguished
as a statuary, had obtuse feelings and a limited
ini.agination, while those of Ciumingham wtre of the
highest order: the arti-t"s reading had been verv'
limited, but that of the poet was extensive ami multi-
farious. Cunningham was, therefore, as able in sug-
gesting graceful attitudes in figures, picturesque foKi>
in drajjeries, and new propcirtions for pedestals, a-
Chantrey was in executing them; and in this way the
former was a very Mentor and iiiuse to the latter.
Besides all this, Cunningliani retiminiended his cni-
]doyer"s productions thrc;)Ugh the medium of the prcSs.
illustrated their excellencies, ar.d ilcfciuietl ihuiii
against maligners; fought his battles agair.st rivr.l
committees, antl established his claiir.s wlien thcv
would have been sacrificed in favour of s 'iiie iiikri. r
artist. Among the otlier methods by wliich Char.iri.y's
artistic reputation was thus cstaiilishLil z.vA <;::!i:-!-<i
abroad, may be menti'.ineil a sketch c: 1::- i::e aiui.^.:'.
account of his work-, publislie 1 in />'.'..•. •■■:; .-..■ .■ .'/..v-'-
:///(• for .\[)ril, lS30. and a cii'.i'jv.e in the (.■.'<.■'.'.:._;
fir 1S26, both of these r.rticle- l>.::;g fi' ni the ] en ..f
-Mian Cunningh.im. The j "< t \\a- aN ■ ll.e I.le ot
the artist's sluiio by his r:. ii e:'Iive:i::'g c< '!:%ei-at.o::.
and his jiower of iiliistiating ti.e \.i.. •.;- ! .;-ts .-.!:';
statues wliicli the budding c^ >;.:.r;:.e ' ; -■ ti...t it v.as
sometimes difiieuh to tell wlu-tlKr ti.e !;■. ;rg r.u\\\ e.-

the high deiineati. i;:- 1 f art i es-e ; 1:. -t .;ttinet;. n

for many amon;,' its tli' .t>.i:i.i- ■ 1 \is-.t ;•. In li.is
wavalio the iriel-.est inri.nk .".i.J. t;;en-.L..-t u.st;:.^...s:.ea

4i6

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

in talent were brought into daily intercourse with
him, from among whom he could select the characters
he most preferred for friendship or acquaintance.

Among the illustrious personages with whom his
connection with Chantrey brouglit him into contact,
the most gratifying of all to the mind of Cunningham
must have been tlie acquaintance to which it intro-
duced him with Sir Walter Scott. We have already
seen how devout a hero-worshipper he was by the
visit he paid to the Ettrick Shepherd. Under the
same inspiration, while still working as a stone-
mason in Nithsdalc, he once walked to Edinburgh
for the privilege of catching a glimpse of the author
of Alariition as he passed along the public street.
In 1S20, when Cunningham had himself become a
distinguished poet and miscellaneous writer, he came
in personal contact with the great object of his venera-
tion in consequence of being the bearer of a request
from Chantrey that he wouKl allow a bust to be taken
of him. The meeting was highly characteristic of
both parties. .Sir Walter met his visilf)r with both
hands extended, for the pur]:)ose of a cordial double
shake, and gave a hearty "Allan Cunningham, I
am glad to see you." The other stammered out
something about the pleasure he felt in touching the
hand that had charmed him so much. "Ay," said
Scott, moving the member, with one of his pawky
smiles, "and a big brown hand it is." He then
complimented the liard of Nithsdale upon his bal-
lads, and entreated him to try something of still
higher consequence "for dear auld Scotland's sake,"
quoting these wonis of Burns, 'ihe result of Cunning-
liam's immediate mission v,-as the celebi-ated bust of
Sir Walter .Scott by Chantrey — a bust which not
only gives the external semlilance, but expresses the
very character and soul of the mighty magician, and
that will continue through late generations to pre-
sent his likeness as distinctly a-> if he still moved
among them.

The acquaintanceship thus ausjiiciously commenced
was not allowed to lie idle; and while it materially
benefited the family of Cunningham, it also served
at once to elicit and gratify the warm-hearted benevo-
lence of .Sir Walter. The event is best given in the
words of Lockhart, .Sir Walter .Scott's son-in-law
and biographer. "Breakfasting one morning (this
v,-as in the summer of 1828) with Allan Cunningham,
and commending one of his iniblications, he looked
rtAiU'l the table and said, 'What are you going to
iria!-;e of all thc.->e boys, Allan?' 'I ask that ciucstion
often at my cnvn heart,' said Allan, 'and I cannot
answer it.' '\Vhat docs the eldest point to?' 'The
callanl would f.iiii be a soldier, .Sir Walter — and 1
have half a ]iroini^e of a c(unmi.ision in the king's
army for him; but I wi:^h ratlier ho v.ould go to
India, for tliere the pay is a maintenance, and one
floes not need interest at every step to get f)n.'
Scott dropi>ed the subject, but went an hour after-
wards to Lonl Melville, who was now ])re>ident of
tlie Board of Control, and bi;ggcd a cadetship f )r
young Cunningham. Lurd Melville ]>romise(l to in-
quire if he had one at hi-) disposal, in which case he
\'.-ould gladly serve the ><m of honest .'Mian; but the
)>oint being thus left iJnu'Dthd, .Scott, meeting Mr.
(oliu Loch, one of the lCa-.t India directors, at dimur
the same evening, at Lord Slafford's, a])plic<l to him
and received an immediate avseiit. < >n r .achiiig
home at night he found a note from Lord Melville
iniimating that he had inquired, and was ha])])y in
complying with his request. Next morning Sir
Walter appeared at .Sir F. Chantrey's breakfast-
tai)le, and greeted the sculptor (who is a brother of
tlie angle) with, 'I suppose it has sometimes happened
to you to catch one trout (which was all you tlioughl

of) with the fly, and another with the bobber.
I have done so, and I think I shall land them both.
Don't you think Cunningham would like very well to
have cadetships for two of those fine lads?' 'To be
sure he would,' said Chantrey, 'and if you'll secure
the commissions I'll make the outfit easy.' Great
was the joy in Allan's household on this double good
news; but I should add that, before the thing was
done, he had to thank another benefactor. Lord
Melville, after all, went out of the Board of Control
before he had been able to fulfil his promise; but
his successor. Lord Ellenborough, on hearing the
circumstances of the case, desired Cunningham to set
his mind at rest; and both his young men are now
prospering in the India service."

By being thus established in Chantrey's employ,
and having a salary sufficient for his wants, Allan
Cunningham was released from the necessity of an
entire dependence on authorship, as well as from the
extreme precariousness with which it is generally-
accompanied, especially in London. He did not,
however, on that account relapse into the free and
easy life of a mce dilettanti writer. ( )n the contrary,
these advantages seem oidy to have stimulated him to
further exertion; so that, to the very end of his days,
he was not only a diligent, laborious student, but a
continually improving author. Mention has already
been made of the wild exuberance that characterized
his earliest efforts in poetry. Hogg, whose senti-
ments on this head we have already seen, ^\•ith equal
justice characterizes its after-progress. "Mr. Cunning-
ham's style of poetry is greatly changed of late for
the better. I have never seen any style improved so
much. It is free of that all crudeness and mannerism
that once marked it so decidedly. He is now uni-
formly lively, serious, descriptive, or pathetic, as he
changes his subject; but formerly he jumbled all
these together, as in a boiling cauldron, and when
once he began, it was impossible to calculate where
or when he was going to end." .Scott, who will be
reckoned a higher authority, is still louder in praise
of Cunningham, and declared that some of Ins songs,
especially that of It's hamc and ifs Iianic, were
equal to Burns. But although his fame com-
menced with his poetry, and will ultimately rest
mainly ujion it, he was a still more voluminous
prose writer, and in a variety of de]")arlments, as
the following li>t of his chief works will sufficiently
show : —

Sir Marmadiikc Maxwell, a drama. This ]5roduc-
tion Cunningham designed for the stage, and sent it
in M.S., in 1820, to Sir \\ alter .Scott fi)r his perasal
and a])probation. But the judgment formed of it
was, that it was a beautiful dramatic poem rather
than a ])lay, and therefore better fitted for the closet
than the stage. In this opinion every reader of Sir
Marmadul-c Maxwell will coincide, more especially
when he lakes into account the complexity of the
plot, and the cajirieioiis manner in which the intere-.t
1^ shifted.

Paul Jones, a novel ; Sir Alichacl Scott, a novel.
Althougli Cunningham had repressed the wildness of
hi.-) imagination in jioctry, it still wfiiked madly
within him, and evidently required .a safety-valve
after being denied its legitimate outlet. No one can
be doubtful of the fact who peruses these novels; lor
not fmly do they drive truth into utter fiction, but
fiction itself into the all but unim.aginable. This is
esj)eeialiy the case with the last of these works, in
which the extravagant dreams of the I'yth.Tgorean or
tl'e Brahmin are utterly out-hcrodcd. Hence, nol-
wi'ili^anding the beautiful ideas and ]u-ofusion of
stirring events with which they arc stored — enough,
indeed, to have furnished a whole stock of novel.->

THOMAS MOUNSEY CUNNINGHAM.

417

and romances — they never became favourites with
the public, and have now ceased to be remembered.

Songs of Scotland, Ancient and Modern, u'lt/i In-
troduction and Xotcs, Historical and Critical, and
Characters of the Lyric Poets. Four vols. 8vo, 1825.
Some of the best poems in this collection are by
Cunningham himself; not introduced surreptitiously,
however, as in the case of Cromek, but as his own
productions; and of these De Bruce contains such
a stirring account of the battle of Hannockburn as
Scott's Lord of the Lsles has not surpassed.

Lives of the A/ost Eminent British Painters, Sculp-
tors, and Architects, published in Murray's "Family
Library." Si.K vols. l2mo. 1829-33. This work,
although defective in .philosophical and critical
analysis, and chargeable, in many instances, with
partiality, continues to be highly popular, in conse-
quence of the poetical spirit with which it is per-
vaded, and the vivacious, attractive style in which it
is written. This was what the author probably
aimed at, instead of producing a work that niight
serve as a standard for artists and connoisseurs; and
in this he has fully succeeded.

Literary Llliistrations to Major s " Cabinet G alloy
of Pictures P 1 833-34.

The Maid of Elvar, a poem.

Lord Roldan, a romance.

Life of Burns.

Life of Sir David Wilkie. Three vols. Svo. 1843.
Cunningham, who knew the painter well, and loved
him dearly as a congenial Scottish spirit, found in
this production the last of his literary efforts, as he
finished its final corrections only two days liefore he
died. At the same time, he had made coiisi<ierable
progress in an extended edition of Jolinson's drives
of the Poets; and a Life of Chantrey was also expected
from his pen; but before these could be accomplished,
both poet and sculptor, after a close union of twenty-
nine years, had ended their labours, and bequeathed
their memorial to other hands. The last days of
Chantrey were sjient in drawing the tomb in which
he wishetl to Ije buried, in the churchyard of Xurton,
in Uerbysliire, the place of his nativity; and while
showing the plans to his assistant, he observed, with a
look of anxiety, "liut there will be no room for you."
"Room formel' cried Allan Cunningham, "I would
not lie like a toad in a stone, or in a place strong
enough f:>r anotlier to covet. O, no! let me lie
where the green grass and the daisies grow, waving
under the winds of the l)lue heaven." Tiie wish of
both was satisfied; for Chantrey reposes itnder his
mausoleum of granite, and Cunningham in the pic-
turesque cemetery of Harrow. Tlie artist by his will
left the piicl a legacy of ^^2000, but tlic constitution
of the latter was so [)rematui-ely exhausted that lie
lived only a year after his employer. His death,
which wa> occasioned by paralysis, occurred at Low er
IJeigrave Place, I'imlic(j, on the 29th October, 1S42,
in tlie fiUy-scventh year of his age.

CUNNINGHAM, Thomas Mot-NSEV. This
excellent p let and song-writer belonged to a family
that has bjen ]>n)linc of genius tluring two genera-
tions, being the second son of a family of ten chil-
dren, and elder brother of Allan Cunningham. His
father, lohn Cunningiiam, who had been j^reviously
a land-^tewar<l. tirst in ttie county of Durham and
afterwards in 1 )unifries>hire, ultimately leased the
farm of Culfaud, in the stewanry of Kirkcudliright,
an.i there Thomas was b irn on the 25th of June,
1776; but his father having been un>ucces>fui as a
farmer, the family migrate 1 to several abodes suc-
cessively, so that Thomas was educated, fir-t at tlie
village school of Kellic;ton, and afterwards at the

VOL. I.

schools and academy of Di'mfries, where he com-
pleted his education by acijuiring the knowledge
of lK)ok-keei)ing, mathematics, the French tongue,
and a little I.atin. At the age of sixteen he became
clerk to .Mr. J(jhn Nbaxwell of Terraughty, but soon
after, having been offered a clerkshij) in South Caro-
lina, he was preijaring to set out for that quarter,
but was dissuaded by the advice of .Mr. Patrick
Miller of Dalswinton, to whom his father at that
time was factor. It was necessary, however, on
account of h(jme poverty and a numerous family,
that Thomas should learn some trade or manual
profession, and, accordingly, by his own choice, he
was apprenticed to the laborious occupatiim of a
mill-wright. It was while he was thus cnqdoyed,
that during the leisure hours of this toil>fjme api)ren-
ticeship he recreated himself with the cultivation
of poetry; and his productions, which were in his
native tongue, found acceptance with the neighbour-
ing peasantry, for whom they were chiefly written.
His father also, who appears to have been a man of
tasteand judgment, apjiroved of these juvenile pro*luc-
tions, and encouraged him to persevere, liut the
best stamp of their merit in the eyes (jf a young poet
was the fact, that one of his pieces was actually put
in print. This was the poem of the ILir'st Kirn,
written in 1797, descriptive of the fun and frolic of
a harvest-home in a farmhouse in .Scotland, and
which was published by Messrs. Brash and Reifl.
booksellers in Glasgow, in their series of J\'clry,
Original and Selected.

Having finished his ap]'renticeship during the
same year, Thomas Mouuhcy Cunningham went to
Lngland to exercise his craft, and found employment
in the workshop of a mill-wright in Rotherliam. 1 1 ii
employer having become bankrupt, he went to Lon-
don, and was seriously thinking of trying his fortune
in the West Indies, when his former employer, who
had recommenced business at Lynn in Norfolk, in-
vited him to return. He complied, and remained
at Lynn until iSoo, when he removed to \\'iltshire,
and sor)n after to the neighbourhood of Cambridge.
.Still prosecuting his employment and endeavouring
to better his condition, he proceeded to Hover, and
while there witnessed, in 1S05, a sea engagement
between our cruisers and the I-rench llotilla. From
Dover he subsequently went to London, where he
occupied a situation in the establishment oi Mr.
Rennie, the celebrated engineer antl his countryman,
which he afterwards exchanged for that of ibreman
to Mr. lJicks<jn, also an engineer, and superintendent
of Fowler's chain-cable manufactor)'. In 1S12, a
clerkship in Kennie's establishment having become
vacant, Thomas Cunningham was invited to cccr.] y
it, in consecjuence of which he went back to Ins
former quarters, and there, latterly, became yrin-
cipal clerk, with a liberal salary, and ixrnr.s.-ion to
admit his eldest son as his a>si-tar.t. This er.'ie'i
his manifold peregrinations and change-, \\hiLl!
however had always been conducted I'lii'lcMly. a: i
had led to advancement, until tl'.ey tii:a!Iy l..L.r.-.':
him in res]iec!ability and comfrt, an'i \\!:ire ]:c l'..M
for his fellow-citi/^en his bristlier .M'.an. .-.'.ren'iy l^e-
ginning to be known in tlie Ii:e:-.iry \\"i^ '•• >'..v:'. a
termination seldom fills d the 1-'. ■ f ; - •.•. .-^'iver.-
turers, es]>ecia!ly if ]i'>eti-y ;- tlieir -"'.e lic; eivieiKe.^^

When lie went to the -' >:\:\\ 1 > '"J ■>e l..- \ •rr.ne."
in 1797, Thomas Cn:inii;^!:.ini 1:.-. i I'ee!i earr.e-lly
advised by liis cjuii-cI'. u". Mr. M/.i^-f • f I i.-.".-\\ ir.:. ■);.
to abjure hi- indulgeia e- ::i j ■ .etvy— a:-, i w;;ii tl;;-
difficult rcsiiiction lie i,a i - 1 \:.v cri-.; !..• !. .-.- t.. le:
his harp lie iimie f'r- t,;:,'/ '.••:..,- nl.-.:-. \W.\ ..:;er t:..s
penance he again \r:.;v.\'j'\ ; • ; ;:. :i \\v: -'i.;;^-. a:v.
in 1S06 he seal to li.c J;...'/ ."/.■,..■;.■'.•.■ ;e'.er.'.. ; •■tt;^al

27

4i8

THOMAS MOUXSEY CUNNINGHAM WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM.

productions, wliich arrested attention, and were de-
clared to be the best that had adorned its pages.
Such was tiie opinion of Hogg himself, already a
contributor to the magazine, who having discovered
the author, addressed him in a highly complimentary
epistle, to which the other replied in verse in the
same journal. When tiie Ettrick Shepherd also
planned the Forest Miitstrd in 1809, and applietl to
his poetical friend for contributions, Cunningham
permitted him to republish such of his productions
as pleased him from the magazine, and these are the
best poems in the Fcrcsl Mnistrd, unless we except
those of Hogg himself. But while Cunniiigliam's
fame as a poet was thus rising to a height that might
have proved dangerous to his worldly advancement,
a check occurred which induced him suddenly to
pause. Some critical allusions to his style occurred
in the Scots JMixgazine, and witii these he was so
highly offended that he again relapsed into poetical
silence, which was continued for another nine years.
It was only a still worse injury that made him at last
speak out. One of his songs was published without
his permission in the Nithsdalc Minstrel, and in-
censed at this unhandsome act oUlftiiii^, he snatched
up his pen to write a severe castigation of the pub-
lishers of the Mhistri'l, which appeared in the Scots
A/iigcizinc oi 1S15. The llood-gates of his inspira-
tion being thus opened anew, he continued to write,
and in the Edinbnr^^h Miii^aziiie, which was started
in 1817 hecontrilnited, under the title of the Literary
Legacy, a miscellany or medley of things old and
new, in prose and in verse, which were of popular
interest, and highly advantageous to the periodical.
Thus matters continued, until a slight difference with
the editor reduced him once more to a moody silence,
which this time was to be perpetual. It will be
seen from tliese events, that he was not only touchy
in taking offence, but obstinate in nursing the feud.
During tlie latter period of his life he was so careful
of the literary re])utation he had won, that he held
an annual '''auto de fe^' u])on his productions both
in jirose and poetry written during the elapsed year,
and those which did not satisfy him he consigned to
the flames. I»ut such deeds of arbitrary destruction
are apt at times to. be too hasty, and on one such
pccasion he destroyed the Braken Fell, one of the
best of his compositions in verse, whicli contained a
diverting description of the droll characters he had
known and the scenes he had witnessed in his early
days. Tlie loss was irretrievable, and his brother
Allan, who valued the poem very highly, deplored
its hasty doom.

-Mtlnnigh (Jininingjiam was so ca])ricious in litera-
ture, he was very different in tlie affairs of business:
in these his industry, steadiness, and perseverance
were so cons]>icu(His, as to secure the confidence of
his employers, and work his way from the rank <jf a
mere workman to a ])osition of respectability and
Comfort. lie had indeed a double ]iortion of tliat
prudence which distinguished Ills l)rotlicr Allan, so
that instead of u-^ing literature as a crutch, or even
a staff, he handled it as a switcii, and could throw
it lightly aside wiic-n there was v.oil.; for both hands
to (l(j. It was this toying with ])oetr)-, and indiffer-
ence to authorship as an occupation, \\liich his friciKls,
anfl especially the Ettrick Shepherd, so deeply re-
gretted; Init Thomas Cunningham persevered to th^-
end in preferring the honourable suli^tantialities of
life to uncertain fame and tlie risk of starvation. He
died of Asiatic cholera on the 28th of (^ctolier, 1834,
in liie fifly-eighth year of his age. His larger ])oeiiis
are distinguished by drollery and grave .Scottish
humour, wJiile his songs, which arc tiie best speci-
mens of his poetical powers, abound in forcible cor-

rect description, with deep feeling and tenderness.
Among these was his Hills of Gallozua, which was
attributed successively to Robert Burns and James
Hogg, before its real author was ascertained.

CUNNINGHAM, Rev. William, D.D., LL.U.
This ]5rofound theologian and distinguished contro-
versialist, whose name is so closely connected with
the origin of the P'ree Church, was born in the town
of Hamilton in 1805. His father, who was a mer-
chant, a word in the provincial towns of Scotland
indicating a storekeeper or dealer in miscellaneous
articles, dealt in drapery and hardware goods in
Castle Wynd, Hamilton. He died, however, when
William, the eldest of three sons, was only five years
of age, leaving the family very scantily jnovided, in
consequence of which the widow with her children
was obliged to return to her father's house in Lesma-
hago. Here William was sent to school, the teacher
of which was a sister's son of the ]ioet Burns, and
who still is teacher of the jiarochial school of Kin-
ross. But the residence of the fatherless boy at
Lesmahago was brief, for when he was only ten
j'ears of age his grandfather died, and Mrs. Cun-
ningham was obliged to seek a new home. Her
choice was naturally decided for Dunse, of whic'i
her brother was ]:iarish minister, and there William
was educated for five more years at the school taught
by a Mr. Maule. Having in this way acquired a
knowledge of the branches of an ordinary education,
and a sufficient acquaintanceship with classical learn-
ing to fit him for entrance into college, he went to
Edinburgh in 1820, and at the age of fifteen became
a student of the university.

Erom the foregoing account it can easily be sur-
mised that the college career of William Cunningham
was not to be an easy one. Unpatronized and un-
aided, he had encountered in mere boyhood the task
of a man, and while making himself a scholar, must
labour for his own support. But no one who saw
him in after-life — who noted his resolute features
and bold straightforward bearing, that made wa\"
through every difficulty, like a ship in its course —
could believe him likely to fail eillier through indo-
lence or firint-heartedness. ^^'hile at college lie
maintained himself l)y working as a tutor and private
teacher, and while thus labouring to make others
good scholars, he perfected his own classical attain-
ments; thus also he trained himself to encounter those
difficulties which, in future years, he saw, faced, and
overcame. The cliam]iion of the disrupticjii, which was
like the rending of the jMllars of Hercules, was not
to be nursed upon a bed of down and a silken ])lllow.
We need not fidiow his course of education from class
to class at collt-ge ; his was a silent unostentatious
character, thai did not jiarade its intellectual attain-
ments; but his early diligence, and the proficiency that
rewarded it, were strikingly indicated in the full ecpiip-
inent with which, wIk-ii still young, he entered the
field, and <listanced ever)' ri\";J. Having finished the
ciirrnnlinn prescribed by the rules of llie Church ol
.Scotland, he was licensed to jireach by the jiresby-
tery of Dunse in 1S28. He was now a ]irobatioiicr;
but like many others of unrecognized talent and
unfiilfilled renown, he might have remained a i-r<i-
bationer for years, liaii it not been for a circumstance
which the worlil would call fintunnte, aiul the more
rellective ]irovidential. ]'',arly in 1829 the Kev. ])r.
Scotl, minister of the \\'e<t Clunch, (Ireenock,
having been disabled fiom his clerical duties by
])aralysi.s, engaged Mr. Cunningham as an assistant,
and in this cajiacity he became so po]iuIar with the
congregation, tlint tliey soon afler wished the tem-
porary tie to be made permanent. This was done,

WILLIAM CUXNINGIIANL

419

.itI, as colIear;uc and successor to Dr. Scott, Mr.
Cunningham became oncof the ministersof Greenock.

It was thus as a popular preacher, and owinj; to
no other advantai;e, that at the age of twenty-four
he secured that suffrage in his favour which forms
tlic great mark of pulpit ambition, and passed almost
at a single step from an unnoticed student into an
eloquent and popular divine. And yet he was no
mere pulpit declaimer, but a cool investigator and
stubborn reasoner — a theologian who went to tlic
root of the matter, and presented it to his hearers
as he found it; and when his preaching rose into
vehement fervour, which it often did, it was a logi-
cian's rather than an orator's earnestness and wrath.
That such a kind of preaching should be so captivat-
ing, was owing to the peculiar character and circum-
stances of those who sat under his ministry. The
people of CJreenock are a cool, calculating, matter-
of-fact generation, unaccustomed to the blandish-
ments of oratory, and not likely to care for it though
it should address them with the voice of the charmer.
They had also been indoctrinated in a stern demon-
strative theology first by Dr. Love, and afterwards
by Dr. .Scott, who had been their favourite clerical
teachers, and whose substantial preaching was suited
to their characters and wants. Tims the place and
jieoplc had been prepared for Mr. Cunningham,
whose "deep preaching" had found its jiroper sphere.
After this explanation, it will not be wondered at
that he who had been the mo>t jifjpular of preachers
in (Irecnock, s!iouId have l)cen afterwards one of the
least popular in Eilinburgh. There ever)- circum-
stance was reversed. In modern as in ancient
Athens, the citizens were employed in hearing or
telling some new thing, and with them the thcologj-
of tlieir fathers ha<l become somewhat effete. Ihey
must have — not a itru> theology, for as yet they were
too orthodi)x f:ir that, but the old dressed up so as
to look as good as new, and be accommodated to the
]irevalent fa>liion. lUit to such a dainty transmuta-
tion Cunningham could not, and v.ould not succumb;
and was therefore obliged to content himself in
I'^dinburgh with a choice but diminisjied audience.

Irrespective of mere popular dislike or ind.it'ference,
such merit as Mr. Cunningham's could not long be
hid, and the time was at hand when its worth was
to be recognized and called into full cxcrci-e. An
attempt was made to have him as one of llie ministers
of (Jla-^gow, by the town-council of that city, to
which the patronage of its clnu'clies lulongs, Init
this he re--i)ectfully declined. IJul in 1S33, when he
was elected a member of the Ceneral .X^scmbly, the
young minister of Creenock seemed to lind himsell
in his proper sphere; and his talents in ecclesiastical
debate were so remarkable, as to arrest general atten-
tion, and secure tlie favour of tiie cliurch party to
which he belonged. It was well, too, tiiat si;cii re-
cognition oecurred, as the conllict ha'l alrca'iy com-
menced in the Churcli of .Scotland which was to
deepen with every year, and only to terminate with
tiie <lisni]i;iiin. d'lie general desire was to secvire his
services tor IMinhu'gh, and in 1S34 he was trans-
hitc'l to the capital as niiiiister of I'rinity College
Churcii.

ISeing Tio.v at tii-- head -ii'inrt'Ts of tlie great
eccie--ia~tical controver-y. Dr. < ■unnin.;ham was n
powv'r that was s|x-e lily lelt lioth \'\ his own jxarty,
calleil the evangelical, anil tlie oj-'Oo-ite, termed the
moderate: and hi- opposition to p.itronige, and ai'.-
vocation of the rig'it- of die ]H">pIe in elioo-ing their
own mini t.is, were conducted witli a elearnes. and
f>rce of argnnieiit. a". 1 a knov,',,-d ,-e of chureli his-
t.,)ry, wliieli his opj^iiients t'elt to l.:.- irrod-t;l>le; '^o
that few could s.istain a stai d-'.ip cmi'iat w.th this

lf)gical Titan. Into th* particulars, however, of the
ten years that fdlowcd we do not enter, as this
would be to give a detail of the history of the <iis-
mption, an<l the erection of the sejiarate Free
church f)f .Scotland. It is enough to st.nte, that in
everj- stage of that protracted contest he was an
influential le.ader, and in every debate a matchless
disputant, 'io the charms of oratory or the graces
of elocution he made no ])retence w hatcvcr; and as
for the poetry or sentimentality of the subject, one
might as soon have exjiected a sprinkling of rose-
water from the trunk of an ele|.hant. He dealt in
hard facts and nakc<l ideas, and every word beyond
these was in his eyes a supertluity or a gewgaw.
His forte lay in the skill with which he stripjicd the
question of every redundant or j.crplexing adjunct;
the firmness with which he grasped the leading idea,
let it twist or lubricate as it might ; and the clear,
concise, and forcible language with which he de-
scribed it or settled it, according as the occasion
might require. And that Ids definitions were exact,
and his demonstrations sound, was shown by the
audience that listened and the effects of his pleading.
In the Ceneral Assembly were usually compri-ed
the most learned, the most accomplished and talented
men of the kingdom ; their national circumsjicction
was sharpened h\ the importance of the topics and
the consef[uences that depended on them ; and am
attempts in sophistr)- would have been certain of
detection and exposure, and a ground fif jubilant
triumph. But through this terrible ordeal Dr. Cun-
ningham passed, not only unscathed, Init victorious.
When the tedious conflict ended in the retiremei.t
of the dissentients, and the establishment of the
Free tduirch with all the apparatus of a nntion.al
institution, Dr. Cunningham was ap]To])rir.teIy
a]ipointed ['rofessor of church hist<iry in tlie new
college which was firthwith instituted for the cluca-
tion of a Free Church niinistr}-. It was a situation
every way congenial to the occupant and the fame he
hadalreadyacquired in that depart tricnf of know ledge;
and his elYiciency as a teacher of churcli hi-toiy wa-
disjilayed by the new impul-e lie gave to the -tciy
of that long-neglected department of kr.' 'W !e''g<'.
and the eiulnisia-m with which his lectr.re- were
received by his piq.ils. Among otl-.^r iti-tituti' 'ii- of
a literary character s.-t on f 'ot by the Free Church
at its commcncemer.t, was the cstaiih-linient of the
l'ri!i:-h iiiid /\'i\-:^'it J::\iti;^.i:t,:I /,',•:.•;■:.- a l'.:aga-
/ine which almost in-;antly occupied a higli ] lace
among the iiuarterlics of the day. an<l of tl.is im-
I'ortant ]aiblication Dr. Cunningliam w a- e'i'.!'>r l"r
several year-. .M'ter he retired iVom tliat oifice, h.e
-till continued to contrilmle artic'e- to i'. chict'.y on
the hi-torv of theol.)gical coiilr. -vcr-y. ( in the .;■ at!i
of Dr. Lhalir.crs, m 1S47, Dr. (/•.■T-.niiigh-ain v,a-
ajipointed ] rincipal of il:e Five Chr.ic!: ('-i'c.je; ard
in 1S50 he was elcL'ted modcr.itor of !::e 1 :c v « i. r^l:
C.eneral .\--eml.!v. ,\lter tlii-. alt!'.' w^\\ ]:::'.■■- i:v re

than the noon ol lil
I lerculean tVame and
a long career lay -t
alarmed by the -yni]
denly coniniencc!. ■:
notice that life and
d'he-e indication- \'o
in Ivlinlnir_;h "ii tl:e
The life-f Dr. ( r.
tatiou- and -o lit-ie
was too im; or'.;;.!

lad

pa-c''

■ re Irn'
f a r.:;

led

recopl ; an !
I writing a l';;l
i admire i. i::;-
: man, tj wii.

430

JAMES CURRIE.

debted for the preceding notices. As an author,
Dr. C. will be chiefly distinguished by his post-
humous works. His lectures on church history
were left in excellent order for publication, and of
these, three volumes have already issued from the
press, under the supervision of two of his learned
coadjutors in the Free Church College.

CURRIE, James, M.D., an eminent physician
of Liverpool, was born May 31, 1756, in the parish
of Kirkpatrick-Fleming, Dumfriesshire. His father
was the minister of that parish, but obtained, soon
after the birth of his son, the living of Middlebie.
His mother was Jane Boyd, a woman of superior
understanding, but who unfortunately died of con-
sumption shortly after their removal to Middlebie.
Young Currie was the only son in a family of seven
children. Having been at an early age deprived of
his mother, his aunt. Miss Duncan, kindly undertook
the management of the family. To the anxious care
which Miss Duncan took of his early education,
Currie owed many of those virtues which adorned
his after-life. He commenced his education at the
parochial school of Middlebie, and at tiie age of
thirteen was removed to Dumfries and placed in
the seminary of the learned Dr. Chapman, where he
remained for upwards of two years. He was origi-
nally intended for the profession of medicine, but
having accompanied his father in a visit to Glasgow,
he was so much delighted with the bustle and
commercial activity displayed in that city, that he
obtained his father's consent to betake himself to a
mercantile life; and accordingly he entered the ser-
vice of a company of American merchants. This,
as frequently happens, where the wishes of an in-
experienced young man are too readily yielded to,
jiroved a very unfortunate change. He sailed for
Virginia just at the commencement of those disputes
with the American colonies which terminated in their
indej^endence, and the commercial embarrassment
and losses which were occasioned by the consequent
interniption of trade have been offered as an apology
for the harsh and ungenerous manner in which Currie
was treated by his employers. To add to his distress,
he fell sick of a dangerous illness, and before he was
comjiletely restored to health he had the misfortune
to Io.>e his father, who left his family in veiy narrow
circumstances. V'oung Currie, with that generosity
and sanguine disregard of the difficulties of his situa-
tion which formed so remarkable a feature in his
character, immediately on learning of the death of
his father, and of the scanty provision made for his
sisters, divided among them the small portion which
fell to his share. And, disgusted witii tlie hardshi])s
he had encountered in tlie commencement of his
mercantile education, he determined to renounce the
pursuits of commerce. For a lime he seems to have
turned his attention to j^olitics, writing several papers
on the then all-engrossing subject of the fjuarrel
between (jreat Britain and America. At length,
however, he saw the necessity of making choice of
some profession; and, led by the advice of his near
relation Dr. Currie, of Kicinnond, New Carolina,
with whom he was then living, he determined to
resume his original intention of studying nic-dicine.
In jHirsuance of this \>\cn he ])roceeded to iiritain,
returning home by the We>.t Indies; Iteing prevented
by the war from taking a more direct route. Aiter
encountering many difficulties, he reachcl London
in 1776, having been absent from his native country
f jr five years. From London he ])rocee(led t(j Kdiii-
burgh, where he prosecuted his studies with unre-
mitting assiduity until the year 17.S0. He early
became conspicuous among his fellow-students Ijv

his talents. As a member of the medical society he
greatly distinguished himself, and the papers which
he read before that body not only give evidence of
his superior abilities, but afford an interesting proof
that, even at that early period, he had given his
attention to those subjects in his profession which
he afterwards so fully and ably illustrated.

Although the rapid progress he was making in his
studies, and the high station he held among his con-
temporaries, rendered a continuance at college very
desirable, still Currie was too deeply impressed with
the necessity of attaining independence and of free-
ing his sisters and aunt of the burden of his support,
not to make every exertion to push himself into
employment. Accordingly, having procured an in-
troduction to General Sir William Erskine, he ob-
tained from that officer an ensigncy in his regiment,
with the situation of surgeon's mate attached to it.
He does not appear, however, to have availed him-
self of these appointments ; for, learning that a
medical staff was about to be formed in Jamaica, he
hurried to Glasgow, where he obtained a degree as
a physician; hij attendance at college having been
insufficient to enable him to graduate at the uni-
versity of Edinburgh. Having got his degree, and
having furnished himself with numerous introduc-
tions, he proceeded to London, in the hope of ob-
taining an appointment in the West India establish-
ment. But, on reaching the capital, he found that
all the appointments were already filled up. Although
disappointed in obtaining an official situation, he
still detennined to sail to Jamaica, with the intention
of establishing himself there in private practice; or,
failing that, to proceed to Richmond, and join his
kinsman Dr. Currie. He was induced, however, by
the persuasion of his friends in London, to abandon
this plan, even after his passage to Jamaica had been
taken out. They strongly urged him to establish
himself in one of the large provincial towns of Eng-
land; for, from the high estimate which they had
formed of his abilities and professional acquirements,
they were convinced that he would speedily raise
himself to eminence in his profession. In accordance
with this view he proceeded to Liverpool in October,
17S0. He was induced to select that town in con-
sequence of a vacancy having occurred there by the
removal of Dr. Dobson to Bath. But, even without
such an opening, it is evident that, to a young phy-
sician of talent and enterprise, a wealthy and rapidly
increasing commercial town like Liverpool holds out
peculiar advantages, and great facilities for getting
into practice, where the continual fluctuation of
society ])rcsents an open field for professional abili-
ties, widely different from that of more stationary
conimunilies. Hence, as had been anticipated, Dr.
Currie's talents and gentlemanly manners brought
him rapidly into practice; although on his fir>t
arrival he was an utter stranger in Liver]:)Ool, and
only found acce>s to society there by the introduc-
tions he brought with him. His success was early
confirmed by being elected one of the physicians tn
the Infirmary, and strengthened by his marriage, in
the year 17S3, to Miss Lucy Wallace, the daughter
of a respectable merchant of Liverpocd.

Although busily engaged in the arduous duties of
his pnjfession. Dr. Currie yet found time to cultivate
literature. A similarity of tastes having led to an
intimacy with the well-known Mr. Roscoe, Dr.
Currie and Mr. Roscoe, along with Mr. William
Kathbone, formed a literary club, which deserves to
be remembered as being the fir^t of those numerous
literary instituticjns by which Liverj)ool is now so
creditably distinguished.

I'lie pulmonary affection under which Dr. Currie

JAMES CURRIE.

421

began to suffer about this time has been ascribed to
the fatigue and the night journeys to which he was
exposed in his attendance on the sick-ix;d of liis
friend Dr. Hell, of Manchester. His first attack was
so violent as completely to incapacitate him fur
business; and finding no mitigation of the paroxysms
of the hectic fever, except in travelling, he under-
took a journey to Hristol; but unfortunately the good
effects which the change might otherwise have pro-
duced were neutralized by the distressing circum-
stance of his arriving just in tmie to witness the
death of his sister; the second who had, within the
year, fallen a victim to the same disease under which
he was himself labouring. Deriving no benefit from
his residence in Bristol, he removed to Matlock, in
the hope that the drier air and the hot baths of that
inland town would prove more beneficial. Disap-
jjointed in this expectation, he resolved to try the
effect of his native air; and in the hope of again see-
ing a third sister who was sinking under the disease
so fatal to his family, he made a hurried journey to
Scotland. As regarded his health, his expectations
were wonderfully gratified : for when he reached
Dumfriesshire he was so much recruited, that he
was able to ride on horseback fur an hour at a time;
but he was too late to see his sister, who was con-
veyed to the grave on the very day of his arrival.
Notwithstanding this distressing event, his native
air and exercise on horseback proved so beneficial,
that, after remaining a fesv weeks at Moffat, he re-
turned to Liverpool on horseback, varying his journey
by visiting the lakes of Cumberland. In this journey
he was able to ride forty miles on the day on which
he reached Liverpool. A very interesting account
of Dr. Currie's illness and recovery will be found in
the second volume of Darwin's Zoonomia.

The first work which, after his recovery, Dr. Currie
undertook, was a translation of hi-> friend Dr. Bell's
inaugural dissertation. This he did at the request of
the Literary and Philosophical .Society of Manchester,
and it was published in the society's Transactious.
The translation was accompanied by several valuable
notes, and a short biographical sketch of the author;
in which Dr. Currie appears to have given a very
correct and impartial delineation of his friend's
character. The elegance of the style and execution
of this work gained for Dr. Currie very considerable
reputation as an author.

On being elected member of the Medical .Society
of London, he communicated an essay (published in
the society's Traiisactions) on Tttaniis and Con-
7'ulsive Disorders. In the year following he presented
to the Royal Society a paper giving An Aicoitnt of
the Remarkable Effect of S/ii/ru'reek on Mariners, ~u'iik
Jixperiments and Obset~'at!ons on the Influence of Irn-
viersion in Fresh and Salt Water, Hot and Cold, on
the /'ou'crs of the Body, which appeared in the Philo-
sophical Transactions of that year, and whic'n may
be regarded as introductory to a more mature pro-
duction which appeared in 1792, under the title of
jr.dical Reports on the Ejects of Hater, Cold and
11 'arm, as a Ketnedy for Fever and other Diseases,
'.i'hether applied to the .Sin-face of the Body or used
Internally: a work on which Dr. Currie's fame as a
motlical author princi]\illy rc^ts. Innnediately on
its publication it attracted the attention not only of
the profession, but of the public in general. But
the jiractice whicli it rcco!nniende<l not having been
found uniformly succf^sful. ami being repugnant to
the preconceived notions on the >uhject, it fell gradu-
ally into disrepute. -Still, however, cold abluti<.)ns

in fever is unquestionably a remc<ly of great power,
and has i>een found very salutary when used with
judgment, |)articularly in the violent fevers of tropi-
cal climates. That the practice has hitherto been
less successful than it shijuld l>e, arises from its having
Ix-en often resorted to by the patients themselves
and from its l)eing prescriljed by the ignorant loo
late in the hot stage of the fever. The profession,
therefore, is deeply indebted to Dr. Currie for the
introduction of this practice; which, in skdful hands,
has proved most efficacious, and has been the means
of saving many lives.

Dr. Currie on several occasions indulged himself
in writing on political topics; but by some remark-
able fatality, although by no means a consistent ad-
herent to one side, he invariably took the unjKjpular
side of the question. While in .Vmerica, he had de-
fended the mother countrv- against the colonies. He
afterwards joined in the no /''/t-ri' enthusiasm during
the disgraceful riots raised by Lord George Cordon,
bringing himself into disrepute by the ill-chosen time
he took to indulge in a cry which was otherwise
popular with the best classes of society. And the
princiiiles which he advocated in his lu-tter. Com-
mercial and Political, addressed to the Pi^ht Hon.
William Pitt, under the assumed name of Jasi)er
Wilson, raised him a host of enemies, by whom
he was attacked in the most violent and scurrilous
manner.

While on an excursion to Dumfriesshire on account
of his health, Dr. Currie made the ac(|uaintance of
Robert Burns, the Scottish i«oet ; and, like all who
had the good fortune to meet that extraordinary man,
he became one of his enthusiastic admirers. On the
death of Burns, when the friends of the poet were
exerting themselves to raise his family from the state
of abject poverty in which it had been left, they
strongly urged Dr. Curne to become his editor and
biographer, to which he at length consented ; and,
in the year 1800 he published, for the behoof of the
poet's family, I'he Works of Robert Burns, -u-ith an
Account of his Life, and Criticisms on his Writin.;s;
to lohich are Prefixed some Ol'senations on the Charac-
ter and Condition of the .Scottish Peasantry. It is by
this W(jrk that Dr. Currie h.as established his f.ime in
the reiniblic t)f letters. He has, at the same time, by
the manner in which he has accomplished his task,
conferred a lasting favour on all who can ajprecate
the language and t)eauties of our national puct.

Although Dr. Currie had been restored to ci>m-
parative good health after his first attack of illne-s in
1784, still from that period he continued to be subjec".
to pulmonary threatenings; but it was not unf.I the
year 1S04 that his constitution gave way so .-i> 1.1
force him to retire from his jin.fcssional uutic- in
Liverpool. In the hope th.at his native n;r ir.;^!/.
again restore him to health, he made a j--.;n-.ey ;.i
Scotland; but deriving no l)cncfit from tl.c cI-.-itl;--.
he returned to h^ngland, and sjier.t the <.-r.sv.;ng wv..'-.:
alternately at Clifton and Rath, bora time l.:s l-.t.r;!:li
seemed to recruit, and he w.is evini -r..-iMc 1 t'.i rt-r.ir.c
his professional a\'ocat;ons in tl;e \.\V.c\- c;;% ; '••'•_' :i
his complaints returning with ir.cre.i~'. 1 vi^'.^ikc. I.e.
with that rcstlessr.es. ir.ci.lc:it ;■ C";>-.:r.i; ;;^ r.. re-
moved to Siihiiov.tli, where !;e i'.l :. ^l-l .'v.:,-;u~:,
1S05, in the fiftieth yc.ir o;'l-;i- n.,-'.-.

Dr. Currie was uf a kin'; .\v.\ :.:\':c\. ':■,.■.:>-■ i:>;'>i~i-
tion, and he was active ?:v.-\ ^vAxr'V.- :n ]r.> ,)'_r.evi-
knce. Ti his strenu-u- e\>::::':> l;vir;- ! .'Wt-^
many of tlie charit.i! ie ar.vi liteiaiy :ns;:ir.t.. 'i-a > t
which it can nuw li.i.i-;.

422

DAVID DALE.

D.

DALE, David. This eminent philanthropist was
bom in Stewarton, Ayrshire, on the 6th of January,
1739. His ancestors are said to have been farmers
in that district for several hundred years ; but his
father, Mr. William Dale,* was a grocer and general
dealer in the town. David received the education
which was usually given at that period in the small
towns of Scotland. His first employment was the
herding of cattle. He was afterwards apprenticed
in Paisley to the weaving business, at this time the
most lucrative trade in the country; but it appears
that he disliked the sedentary occupation, and on
one occasion left his employment abruptly. He
afterwards, however, wrought at the weaving tratle
in Ham.ilton and the neighbourhood of Cambuslang.
He subsequently removed to Glasgow, and became
clerk to a silk-mercer. With the assistance of friends
he commenced business on his own account in the
linen yarn trade, which he carried on for many years,
importing large quantities of French yarns from
Flanders, which brought him large profits, and laid
the fountlation of his fortune.'- Mr. Dale had been
about twenty years in business in Glasgow when Sir
Richard Arkwrighl's patent inventions for the im-
provement of cotton-spinning were introduced into
England. Sir Richard visited Glasgow in 1783, and
was entertained by the bankers, merchants, and
manufacturers at a public dinner, and next day started
with Mr. Dale for the purpose of inspecting the
waterfalls on the Clyde, with a view to erect works
adapted to his improvements. A site was fixed on,
and the buildings of the New Lanark cotton-mills
were immediately commenced. Arrangements were
at the same time made betwixt Sir Richard and
Mr. Dale for the use of the patent of the former.
Meclianics were sent to England to be instructed in
the nature of the machinery and the process of tlie
manufactures; but, in the meanwhile, Arkwright's
patent having been challenged, and the courts of law
having decided against its validity, Mr. Dale was
thus relieved of all claim for patent right, and the
connection betwixt him and Arkwright was conse-
cjuentjy dissolved, the business being now entirely
his own. Considerable opposition to the erection of
these works was offered by the landed proprietors in
the neighbourhood, from an unfounded apprehension
that the ]:)rivacy of their demesnes would be invaded
by the introduction of a multitude of work-peo])le
into that rural district; and, more especially, that
fresh burdens would be entailed upon them for the
sujij^ort of the ])oor. Their forebodings, however,
were not realized when the mills were put in opera-
tion. The works gave emiiloyment to great num-
bers of peaceable and industrious oi)eratives, who,
instead of burdening the land, contributed to en-
hance its value by consuming its produce. Finding,
likewise, that the mills were yielding large returns to

' Mr. Willi,-im Dale w.is twice m.irrifl; by his first marria;^
he had two sons, David and Hugh; and by his second, on
son, the late James Dale, Esq., whose son is now an eniincn
merchant in Glasgow.

2 Mr. Dale's shop w.as then in the UIkIi .Street, five door
north i,{ the corner at the Cross. He Jiaid jC^ of rent, bii
thinking this an extravagant rent, he subdet the one half of i
to a watchmaker for fifty shillings. But in 1783, when he wa
.appointed agent for the Royal Bank of Scotland, the watch
maker's part was turned into the bank office, where the busi
ne.ss of that establishment was conducted till about ly/
when it was removed to large premises, south-c;ist corner t
St. Andrew's ."i'luarc.

the proprietor, many landlords soon evinced a desire
to have similar establishments on their own estates.
The capabilities of the steam-engine for impelling
cotton machinery were not yet known ; spinning-
mills, tlierefore, could only be erected profitably
where there were ]iowerful waterfalls. Many of the
landed proprietors in .Scotland availed themselves of
Mr. Dale's practical knowledge and advice as to
establishing mills on properties where such facilities
existed. He was instrumental in this way in the
erection, amongst others, of the extensive mills at
Catrine, on the banks of the river Ayr, and at Spin-
ningdale, on the firth of Dornoch, in Sutherlandshire.
In several of the new works he had a pecuniary interest
as co-partner. Besides the spinning of cotton yarn
at New Lanark. Mr. Dale was largely concerned in
the manufacture of cotton-cloth in Glasgow." In
connection with Mr. George M'Intosh, and Monsieur
Papillon, a Frenchman, he established, in 1783, the
first works in Scotland for the dyeing of cotton turkey-
red. He was a partner in an inkle-factory; also in
the Blantyre cotton-mills, and at a later period of
his life held a large share in the Stanley cotton-mills.

He continued, meanwhile, his original business of
importing Flanders yarn; and, in addition to all
these sources of income, when the Royal Bank of
Scotland established a branch of its busines-s in
Glasgow in 1783, he was appointed its sole agent,
an office which he held till within a few years of his
death, when, upon its business becoming much
extended, an additional agent was named to act
jointly with him. The individual who, some thirty
or forty years before, was a little herd-boy at Stewar-
ton was now sole proprietor of, or connected as a
managing partner with, several of the most extensive
mercantile, manufacturing, and banking concerns of
the country, the proper conducting of any one of
which would have absorbed the entire powers of most
other men. Not so, however, with the subject of our
memoir; for we find him successfully conducting,
with strict commercial integrity, all the important
enterprises in which he was embarked, together with
others not included in this enumeration ; besides
devoting time and money to various benevolent
schemes, and discharging the onerous duties of .a
magistrate of the city of Glasgow, to which he was
elected, first in 1791, and again in 1794: moreover,
every Lord's-day, and sometimes on other days,
preaching the gospel to a Congregational church, of
which he was one of the elders.' Mr. Dale was
eminently qualified to sustain the numerous and
varied offices which he had thus undertaken; every
duty being attended io in its own ])lace and at the
proj^er time, he was never overburdened with work,
nor did he ever a]5pear to be in a hurry.

The first erected, and at that time the only mill at
New Lanark, was accidentally burned to the ground
a few weeks after it had begun to produce sinin

= t.'nder the firm of Dale, Campbell, Reid, and Dale, viz.
Mr. Dale himself, Mr. Campbell, his brother-indaw, Mr.
Andrew Reid, and Mr David Dale, juiir., his nephew.

■■''I'he Congregational church here referred to, and the other
chnrches in Scotland and Kngland in connection with it, give
the Scripture name of "elder" to that office which most other
denominutions designate by the title of "minister" or "pastor."
In every such church, where circumstances are favonr.ible,
there is a plurality of elders, most of whom continue to follow
the occupations in which they were enga^jed previously to
I be.ng called to office.

DAVID DALi:.

423

yarn, for which tlicre was a great demati'l. When
intelligence of this event reached CJlasgow, many
thought that a stop would he put to all further ojara-
tions in that quarter. Mr. Dale heard the intelli-
gence witii calnuiess, forn\ed his resolutions, pro-
ceeded to the grountl to inspect the ruins, and in-
stantly issued orders to re-erect the premises which
liad been consumed. The new mill was speedily
reconstructed, anil the manufacture proceeded with
fresh energy.

.Although comfortable dwellings were erected at
the village of Xew Lanark fi)r the workers, and good
wages and constant employment insured, great diffi-
culty was felt in getting the spinning-mill fdled with
()|)eratives. There was, indeed, no want of \mem-
j)l(jyed work-people; for the change of commercial
relations caused by the first .Vmerican war, then
raging, very much limited the labour demand, and
many, esjiecially from the Highland districts, wure
in consequence emigrating. It arose from prejudice
on the part of the people, more particularly in the
Lowlands, against all flictory labour. Parents would
neither work themselves nor allow their children to
enter the mills. In this dilemma Mr. I )ale offered
employment to a number of Highland families who
were emigrating from tlie Hebrides to .\merica, but
had been ilrivcn by stress of weather into (Jreenock,
and most of them availed themscdves of the opening
for securing a comfortable livelihood in their native
land, 'i'iie Celts ajipearing to have less repugnance
to factory labnir than their countrymen in the south,
agents were sent to the Highlands, who engaged
many other lamilies to become workers at New
Lanark; l)ut as tiie mills were at last increased to
four, there was still a <leficient sujiply of labour,
especially in the department best served by youths,
and recourse was had to the poor-houses of (ilasgow
and Lilinburgh, from which orjihan and <nher ]iau]ier
children were 6l)tained, and whose moral and reli-
gious education was coni!)ined with their industrial
training. From these sources were the workers in
the mill and the villagers of Xew Lanark chiefly
drawn, finning a population wliich at all periods o(
its history, has ccinunended itself f_)r decent and
orderly behaviour.

After Mr. Dale had been in business several years,
but before he had engaged in any of the large con-
cerns now described, he, in .September, i~", niarrieil
Miss .Vnn Caruline Campbell, daughter of John
Campbell, l'".s(|., \V..S., Ldinhurgh. It is not known
whether this lady brought him any fntune, but there
is reason to supjio^e that her father's connection with
the Roy.il Hank of Scotland, as a director, led to
Mr. Dale's apjuiintment as agent of that establish-
ment in (ilasgow, and thus increased his cimmercial
credit and cunmianil of capital. Miss Campbell,
who had been tirought up in the same religious con-
nection with her h'.i>l>aiid, was als<j of one heart and
mind wiih him in all his schemes of benevidence.
She was the muher of seven children, whom slie
traine<l u;i in tlu- fear t,f ilie Lord. Mrs. Dale died
in lanuars'. I7<)i. .Mr. 1 )ale <li'i not again marry.

it w.is. nf course, nut to be expected that all the
undertakings in w hich Mr. 1 K\\c was embarked should
jirove equally succe-sfiil. ( )ne at least v.as a total
faihne. It was geneially understood that he lost
about /':;;:).ooo in sinking a coal-]>it in the lands of
IJarrowfield. the coal never having been reached,
owing t') the soil being a running iiuicksand, which
could not be overeom.-. although the shaft was laid
with iron cylinders. Messrs. Robert Tennant and
David Tod were his c ';iai:ners in tliis un'.ortunnte
project; l>ut llvv together hr\.\ \ eotiii\ara'iveiy small
share. Mr. Dale was, however, emmentlv succcsa-

ful on the whole, and had acquired a large fortune.
In Ijf/;, being then in his sixty-first year, and nearly
his f irtieth in business, he resolved on freeing him-
self of at least a portion of liis commercial responsi-
bilities. The mills at Lanark h.".d been uniformly
prosperous, yieldmg returns larger pcrhai)s than any
other of his concerns; yet, possibly fr<;m his Ix-ing
sole proprietor, and in circumstances to relinquish
them without delay, he at once disposed of these ex-
tensive and valuable works. Mr. kol)L-rt Owen,
then a young man residing in Lancashire, was in
(dasgow on a visit, and being previously known to
.Mr. Dale as having, by his talent and persevering in-
dustry, raised himself from humble circumstances to
be manager of an extensive spiniiing-miU at Chorl-
ton, he consulted with him as to the ]iro])riety of
selling the works. The information thus <d)tained
by Mr. Owen convinced him of the ])rohtab!e nature
of the trade, and led hiin to firm a company of
Lnglish ca])italists, who purchased the properly at
)^66,000, and carried on the business for several
years, under the firm of the Chorlton Sjunning
Company, of which Mr. Owen was a]i])ointed man-
ager. This situation he held from 1799 to 1S27,
but not all the time in the same partnership.
During the twenty-eight years the mills were under
Mr. Owen's management, they cleared of nett profit
about ^360,000, after having laid aside a sum nearly
equal to hve per cent, on the paid.-up capital. Mr.
Owen, some time after his settlement at .New I anark,
married Mr. Dale's eldest daughter, with whom he
received a large portion.

The above-named comiiany continued to work
with profit the Lanark mills from 179910 1S13, wlieii
the property again changed ownership. During the
copartnery, most of the Lnglish jiartners sold their
interest to Glasgow merchants, who consequently
held the largest .share at the close of the contract.
It a)>pears that by this time (1S141 the piartners and
the manager had each resolved to get rid of the
other; and both jiarties were bent on retaining, it
]i()ssible, possession of the mills. Mr. ( )\ven had
IKJW begun to promulgate s,,nie of his j eei;i;ar tlie-i-
ries; and, for the ]nirp"sL- of carrying tliein ir.to
])ractice, had cenistructed the sp.iei' r.s and sif;,.
stantial building at New Lanark, \\;;:;'Ut, it is
said, receiving tiie f irnial consent ol :!.e [ .irtners,
some of whom disap'proved of his seheiiies. It was
resolved to il;s[„jse of the jiroperty I'V jii/lilic roup;
aiul Mr. Owen nieanwlrile succeeded in I..rming a
new coiiiixiny, wr.icli, when tlie day o! s.-ile arnveii,
became the innchasers. alter coiisi.ier.dile conqieti-
tion, at the cost of /i 12.000. When security was
required fir this larL;e simi. tlie names of William
.Mien. Toseph Fox, Kobelt Owen, lel-emv I'.elUh.am,
John Walker, and Michael (iibl.:. L^.iuir-s. weie
"handed in as the partners i'i tlie New 1 .-;r...!k ( ■ :-
ton-mill Conqianv.

The education of the common jh- ; !e \'..-.s rd t!.;s
period occupiying much attention. }•■-'■] a 1 .iix-'.-tir
liad introduced his nietho.i of ii^trut 'ii .^ !-.:..,c !..;ni-

;at little exp

Ii:s(.iu

es]ioused the cause, which sp
interest, tVoni the hi^iie-t !•> live i. -
Owen entered heartily i:;!^ the ir^ v> n
advocated on the i'la'!'':':!! :u < i !.-.-., '■'•
which he cr.triin'.ted /d'X-'' : • ;:.e
scription alone oi;t ••! ii ~ ; i.^"-'' '•'■'-'
in the cause no .!'u''; ir. u.u, r.'le
benevolent in !;\ ; 'u.'ii- '>'•:>' be ,■.::■.■;
and it is a!sii to b" •■'-■.:■.-<. i. l':: •: h
avowed the iuh l-\ \ :;:.^ ; 'e- \^ h ■ !; w";
give him sue!) uu'uv ;.i' ■. .■ ;:'•; v.-^v ;:;
d"he new C-'ia:tne;v i.i.i u.'■.^:•, .;^ :.

:u;\e:-.d
•. Mr.

•]v..h I.e

424

DAVID DALE.

union, an article rarely to be found in commercial
contracts, namely, "That all profits made in the
concern beyond five per cent, per annum on the
capital invested, shall be laid aside for the religious,
educational, and moral improvement of the workers,
and of the community at large." And, as appears
from the Memoir of William Allen, provision was
made "for the religious education of all the cliildren
of the labourers employed in the works, and that
nothing should be introduced tending to disparage
the Christian religion, or undervalue the autliority
of the Holy Scriptures; that no books should be in-
troduced into tlie library until they had first been
approved of at a general meeting of the partners;
that schools should be established on the best models
of the British, or other approved systems, to whicli
the partners might agree ; but no religious instruc-
tion, or lessons on religion, should be used, except
the Scriptures, according to the authorized version,
or extracts tlierefrom, without note or comment; and
that the children should not be employed in the
mills belonging to tlie partnership until they were of
such an age as not to be prejudicial to their health."
The pious and benevolent founder of the establish-
ment had, in like manner, provided schools and
schoolmasters for tlie education of the workers and
their children, and had maintained these throughout
the successive changes in the copartnery.

Mr. Owen, being thus vested with great powers
and ample means for the most enlarged benevolence,
started, under the auspices of the newly-formed com-
pany, on an extensive educational plan, embracing,
in addition to the ordinary school instruction, the
higher branches of science. lie gave lessons in
military tactics, and caused the workmen to march
in order to and from school and workshop in rank
and file to the sound of drum and fife — a sort of
training rather alien to the anti-warlike predilections
of his Quaker copartners. He attempted also to
introduce .Socialist principles, and became himself a
jirominent leader of that party, which had hitherto
been scarcely heard of in the country. He contri-
buted largely in money for the purchase of an estate
in the neighbouring parish of Motherwell, and to
erect on it a huge Ijuilding distinguislied by the
name of New Harmony. In this institution, which
soon went to pieces, society was to Ije reconstituted
on Socialist principles, with a community of goods.
The partners of Owen were grieved at his folly, and
the public shared in their disappointment and regret.
He nevertheless pursued his own course, and the
conse(|uence was the retirement from the company
of those m(Mnl)ers who had joined it from philan-
thropic m^jtives, and tlie abandonment of their
admirably-conceived jtlan of raising up an intelligent,
right-princii)led, and well-conditioned factory popu-
lution at New Lanark. Mr. Owen continued in
connection with the mills till 1S27; but during the
greater part of his latter years he was occupied in
jiropagating his vi^i(jnary scliemes of infidelity in
Kngland and .America, in which he spent a princely
fortune deriverl from the profits of the business.
Mr. Owen of late years resided chiefly in London,
and his children in the United .States of America.
Mrs. Owen did not adopt the infidel principles ol
lier husband; on the contrary, soon after she had
ascertained the nature of his sentiment, she openly
avowed her faith in the Lord Jesus, connected her-
self with the churcli of which her father had been an
elder, and adorned her Christian prcjfession till her
ileath in 1832.

As a retreat from the bustle of a city life, al)out
the year 1800, when his advancing years required
repose, Mr. Dale purchased Rosebank — a small

landed property and dwelling-house on the banks
of Clyde, about four miles east of Glasgow. He
was in his sixty-first year when his connection with
the Lanark mills ceased. Having acquired a hand-
some competency, he resolved on winding up his
other business affairs; but the nature of his contracts
and copartneries rendered it impossible to free his
estate from responsibility till some years after his
death. But whilst gradually withdrawing from
other business engagements, he most unaccountably,
through the inlluence of Mr. Owen, became a part-
ner in the Stanley Cotton Mill Company — a connec-
tion which caused him much uneasiness during the
latter years of his life, and is said to have involved
him in a loss of ;^6o,ooo.

Having seceded from the Established church, and
joined the Independent communion, Mr. Dale, in
1769, undertook among them the office of minister,
in which he continued until his death, thirty-seven
years afterwards. When we turn from the survey of
Mr. Dale's multifarious duties as the pastor of a
pretty numerous church, to his active charities as a
]5hilanthropist, we are left to wonder how he could
find time and strength to go through willi the many
duties he took in hand. We find him at an early
period regularly visiting Bridewell, for the purpose
of preacliing the gospel to the convicts ; and his
example in this respect was long followed by his
colleagues in the church. He eveiy year made ex-
cursions to distant parts of the country, visiting and
comforting the churches with which he stood con-
nected.

Although Mr. Dale shunned the ostentatious dis-
play of benevolence, yet his liberality could not
always be hid. The present generation have at
times had to pay very high prices for the necessaries
of life, yet no dread of famine, or even partial
scarcity, at least in Scotland, has been entertained
for at least half a century. Not so, however, during
Mr. Dale's time ; for at that period the poor had
occasionally to pay ransom prices for food, and even
at these prices it sometimes could not be obtained.
In the dearth of 1782, 1791-93, and in 1799, Mr.
Dale imported, at his own risk, large quantities of
food from Ireland, America, and the continent of
Europe. To effect this, he chartered ships for the
special purpose. The food thus brought in he
retailed to the poor at prime cost, thereby in great
measure averting the threatened famine, and jirevcnt-
ing a still greater advance in prices.

In addition to the benefits, spiritual and temporal,
conferred on his countrymen at home, he engaged
with the same ardour in most of the schemes then in
operation for extending a knowledge of the gospel of
peace in foreign countries, especially those which had
for their object the translation and circulation of the
Word of Cod. The proposal to translate the Scrip-
tures into the various languages of our eastern empire,
as j)rojected and accomplislied by the BajHist Mis-
sionary Society, had his hearty support from tlie out-
set. I^Ir. Andrew Fuller, of Kettering, who travelled
for the ]nirpose of collecting funds for this object,
was kindly received l)y Mr. Dale, and from him re-
ceived large contributions for the cause. In Mr.
Fuller's sermon on covetousness, preached some time
after Mr. Dale's death, and printed in the fourth
volume of his works, when enjoining on his hearers
',;<ho /laTu; to give of their abundance, and to do so
lil)erally, he says, "The poor people of Clasgow
used to say of a late great and good man of that city
— 'David Dale gives his money by sho'elslul, but
(jod Almighty sho'cls it l)ack again.'"

.■\fter the sale of the Lanark mills, till his death six
years thereafter, Mr. Dale in great measure retired

DAVID DALE MARQUIS OF DALIIOUSIE.

425

from business pursuits. During this time he gave an
hour or two daily to attendance at the bank, and the
winding up of his own private concerns occupied an
equal share of his attention; but at no period of his
life were his public and private acts of benevolence,
or his duties in the pastoral office, more attended to
than at this time. For swme months before P'ebru-
ary, 1806, it was seen that his health and strength
were failing. About the 1st of March of that year
he was confined to bed, and died in peace on the
17th day of the same month, in the sixty-eighth year
of his age, in his house, Charlotte Street, Glasgow,
In his last illness he frequently expressed his confi-
dence as resting on the fulness, freeness, and sim-
plicity of the gospel truth which he had for so long
a period preached to others. His remains were in-
tarred in St. David's Church l)urying-ground. No
sculptured marble marks the place where all that is
mortal of this good man reposes. The spot is indi-
cated by a hewn stone built into the east boundary-
wall, inclosed by an iron railing, aljout midway
betwixt the south and north corner of the ground,
having on it the following plain inscription: — "The
burying-ground of David Dale, merchant, Glasgow,
1780." The estaljlishment of the branch of the
Royal Bank in Glasgow in 1783 proved to be of
great service in promoting the trade of the city,
especially in the manufacture of cotton goods, which
made rapid jirogress from that date. Mr. Dale's
management of the bank business was never ol)jected
to; he was discriminating and liberal in granting
loans to the industrious prudent trader, while he had
the firmness to resist the advances of the mere specu-
lator. An anecdote has been preserved illustrative
of his feelings and humanity towards an unfortunate
individual who had committed forgery. A young
man presentetl a draft for discount, which Mr. Dale
considered to be a forged document; he sent for the
young man, and in private informed him of his suspi-
cions; the fact was acknowledged. Mr. Dale then
pointed out to him the risk he put his life in by such
an act, destroyed the bill, that no proof of his guilt
should remain, and finding that he had been led to it
by pecuniary difficulties, gave him some money, and
dismissed him witii a suitable admonition. In regard
to his usefulness as a preacher of the gospel, the
late Dr. Wardlaw used to say of Mr. Dale, that he
was a most scriptural and instructive teacher of a
Christian church. He had not acfjuired in early life
a knowledge of the languages in which the .'Scriptures
were originally written, but this lack was am[)ly sup-
])lied by ajijilication in after-life. He could reail
with understanding the Hebrew and Greek; the (Jld
and New Testaments were frequently, perhaps daily,
.studied by him in these languages. His public dis-
courses were sententious. For several years before
his death his pulpit services were listened to by many
who came on ])urpose to hear his preaching.

Various estimates of the fortune which .Mr. Dale
liad realized were made about the period of his tleath;
ihe probability is, that one and all were far wide of
the trut'i. .\ va^t amount of his effects consisted in
mill buildings and machinery, which are of a very
fluctuating value. A considerable part too was
locked up in l)u>incss concerns in operation, of which
he was copartner, some of which were not closed for
many years; and some of the'^e proved to l>e ven,-
unprofitable. The exact, or even estimated amount,
was never made known to the public; but it mu-t,
at the peri'id referred to. have been very con>ideralile.
Froin the losses >iistaiued in winding up, however,
it is generally understood that a large portion was
swept away, and that but a comparatively sm.all part
came ultimatelv to his family.

DALGARNO, Gkorgk,' an almost forgotten, but
mo^t meritorious and original writer, was bom in
Old Aberdeen alx)ut the year 1626. He aiJ]K-ars to
have studied at .Marisch.al College, New Aljcrdeen,
but for what length of time, or with what objects, is
wholly unknown. In 1657 he went to (Jxford, where,
.according to .\nthony Wood, he taught a private
grammar-school with goo<l success fcjr alx)Ut thirty
ye.ars. He died of a fever on the 28th of .\ugust,
16S7, and was Iraried, says the same author, "in the
north body of the church of St. .Mary .M.agdalen."
Such is the scanty biography that ha^, fK-en preserved
of a man who lived in friend>hip with the most
eminent philosophers of his day, and who, Ijcsidcs
other original specul.ations, had the >ingular merit of
antici])ating, more than a hundred and thirty years
ago, some of the most i)rofound conclusions'o'f (he
present age respecting the educati(jn of the <ieaf and
tlumb. His work upon this subject is entitled Didns-
calocophtis, or the Deaf and Dumb Man's Tutor, and
was printed in a very small volume at (Jxfi^rd in
16S0. He states the design of it to be to bring the
way of teaching a deaf man to read and write, a, near
as possible to that of teaching young ones to speak
and umlerstand their mother tongue. "In jjnj^ecu-
tion of this general ide.a," says an eminent philosopher
of the present day, who has, on more than one occa-
sion, done his endeavour to rescue the name of Dal-
garno from oblivion, "he has treated in one short
chapter of a deaf man'' s dictionary; and, in ancjther.
of a i;rainmar for deaf persons; both of them con-
taining a variety of precious hints, from which u-.eful
practical lights might be derived by all who have
any concern in the tuition of children during the
firbt stage of their education" [Mr. l)ii;^a!d Slr.^art :
Account of a Hoy Born Blind and Deaf). Tw enty
years before the publication of his Didascaloco/htis,
Dalgarno had given to the world a very ingeiii'.us
piece, entitled Ars S/'x-noruni. from which, say> Mr.
Stewart, it apjiears indi>i)utal)le that he was tiie
precurs(jr of I>i>hop Wilkiiis in his s]>ecu!atinn>
respecting "a real character and a ]")hilosoi hiLal
language.' Leibnitz has on variou- occasion? aiiu'ied
to tile .Irs .Sii^ueruin in commendaton.' terms. '1 iie
collected works of D.ilgarno were rei'ub'.i-hed in one
volume, 4to. by the MaitlanJ Cli:!). in iS;4.

DALHOUSIE. Jamis Am^kkw Ukown-Kam-
^;av, first MAK(ji"istiK. Tlu.> eminent >tate-m.in was
born at Dalhousie Cattle, county of Lclinbur;.;h, en
the 22(1 of .-Vpril, lSl2. In point of antiquity, tiie
family of Ram>ay was cousjiicuou-- so early ;-,> the
reign of David I., when ."sir .Mexander Kanis.iy. tlie
knight of Dalwcjlsie, having signali/ed hmiself '.n tlie
liberation of his country from Ijigiaiid. wa.- ap]>' lir.ted
warden oi tlie middle marches <<i Scotlar.i!. ar.d
sheriff of Tevioldale. The envy of Iris great riv.il.
Sir William Douglas, at this la-i nppoitumn.:. t.vA
his attack upon theknight of D.ilw.iN.c, w!;;Ic !.. liirg
o])en court, and consigning him to a c'.uiigt • 'ii. wide
he died of hunger, is one of th"-e •.erni'ic t.-.L--.!
ancient Scot'.isli reven,;e with w";i;;li •■•,ir w.v _, y.'.l
history is only too aliun^iai.t. .\i'. •.'.■i.-r •:>'.. r.,..,'..;-:."--!
member of the f.imilv wns Sir I ':;i K.i-;-.;'-. w 1'."
saved the life of JameV \'I.. l-y <,::^ ;;v_ the 1 ..r! . i
Cjowrie. when the latter ri^lici ;i'.".' t'ic 'k'-'^^, - ■"■■,■'•:■-
meiit with a drawn s-.v.ir!. .mi "t ;!.e l;..'. . ^a 1.)-
armed attend.ants, duriii:.,' i:;c C'':.i.;-f i army..; w: .^-t
is called the Gowrie cmi;~j ;i,'..y. 1 -r ;:.;- «U'^ ; i.e
was ennobk-.i bv the t;-.lc- .: I. r \ b..r:.- :■.■:. . \ .--

1 1 anl i.

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s. iurcc fr 11

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MARQUIS OF DALIIOUSIE.

count Haddington, and afterwards created an English
peer by the tiile of Earl of Holderness. As he died
without issue, his honours ex]iired with him; but iiis
elder brotlier George, who had been ennobled as
Lord Ramsay of ^Ielrose, obtained the king's per-
mission to ciiange his title into that of Lord Ramsay
of Dalhousie. William, the second baron, 'was
created Earl of Dalhousie in 1633. The subject of
this memoir was the third son of George, ninth Earl
of Daliiousie, but more commonly termed "The
Laird of Cockpen" from enjoying the possessions,
if not also a descent, from that memorable laird
whose unlucky courtship is commemorated in the
old Scotch song. His mother, wlio tiled in 1839,
was Christian, only child and heiress of Charles
Brown, Esq., of Colstoun, in East Lothian. By tiie
death of his two brothers successively, he became, in
1832, the recognized heir of the family titles and
estates. He was fust educated at Harrow, and
afterwards at Christ Church, Oxford, where lie took
his degree with honours in 1833; and during his
attendance at the university he had for his fellow-
students several who were afterwards to be distin-
guished leaders in the political world. Of these, it
is enough to name Enrl .Stanhope, SirCieorge Lewis,
Mr. Gladstone, the Earl of Elgin, and Earl Canning.
On finishing his etlucation the future governor-
general of India, but at this time known as Ix)rd
Ramsay, threw himself into the congenial career of
politics, and had not long to wait for an opportunity
of action. In the elections for the ])arliament of 1835
he contested, along with the late Mr. Learmonth of
Dean, tlie rej^resentation of the city of Edinburgh,
against tlie Hon. James Abercromby, the speaker-
elect of the House of Commons, and Sir John
Campi<eli, Whig solicitor-general, and afterwards
1 jrd-ciiancellor of England. With such influence
arrayed against him, although it was a keen and
closely-contested election, the result could scarcely
be otherwise than unfavourable to Lord Ramsay,
more e.>p-.'cia!ly as he was the open advocate of
conservative ])rinciples, which were not in general
favour with the citizens of Edinburgh. He was
soon, liowever, consoled for his defeat, by being
returned in 1837 as their representative to parlia-
ment by the important agricultural county of East
Lothian, with which he was maternally connected.
As a member of the Lower House he had only sat
fjr abv)Ut a year, when the death of his father, in
1S3S, called him to the House of Lords; but neither
am )ng the lor is nor the commons did he distinguish
him>elf a^ a master in the art of debating. It was
soon ])erceivc(l, however, that he had a peculiar
aptitude.- fir the hard laborious duties and substantial
W(jrk of ]iiilitic>, and that he had only to bide his
time in order to secure his advancement. I'^en
already lii^ own party recognized him as one likely
to succeed to the premiership. In the meantime,
the eliband llow of politic-, could neither strand him
on sh jre nor drift him out to sea. In 1843, when
Mr. Gladstone n«e to the ])resi(K:ncy of the hoard of
trade. Lord Dalhousie was a])])ointed vice-president,
and, on the retirement of Mr. (iladstone from the
office in February, 1845, his lord-ihi]) was called to
the presidency. In tiiis he contiinied during tlic
re:it of Sir Robert I'eel's term of government, until
Lord John Russell succeeded to tlie premierslii]), an<l
although the latter wished that the earl sliould con-
tinue to jireside at the board of trade, his lordsiiip
thought it a more h(inourable course to retire witlt
his retiring jiatron. This desire on the part of a
new administration to retain an o]ii)onent in sucli an
important charge, was as unusual as it was com-
pli:r.en<ary; but the cau.^e of this is to be found in

the zeal and efficiency with which the Earl of Dal-
housie had presided at the board. It was a transi-
tion period in our commercial history which the
sudden development of the railway power had in-
trotluced, and when new plans, claims, emergencies,
and exjiedients were enough to overwhelm or be-
wilder the strongest head. Amidst this subversion
of an old world for the creation of a new, the dili-
gence of the earl as vice-president, and afterwards
as president, was so cons])icuous, that his activity in
work and power of endurance seemed to be un-
limited. He was the first to enter the office of the
board, and the last to retire, while he often con-
tinued all day at his labours until two or three o'clock
on the following morning. It was a stern appren-
ticeship to that difficult and complex government
which now awaited him, and for which none was
judged so well fitted. This was nothing less than
the office of governor-general of India, as successor
to Lord Hardinge ; and Lord Dalhousie, having
accepted it, arrived at Calcutta on the 12th of
January, 1848.

The history of his lordship's administration in
India cannot as yet be dispassionately written, as its
effects both for good and for evil have not as yet
been fully developed. As ruler of our eastern em-
pire, he entered it when its diflicultics were of more
than ordinary complication; and for the discharge of
its duties he brought to it a perseverance that could
not be tired, and a resolution that would not yield.
Difficulties that would have daunted any other
governor-general he fearlessly encountered, and the
result of his rule during eight years w^as manifested
in the general confidence it had inspired, the aug-
mentation of our Indian empire, and the greater
stability imparted to its government. But, on the
other hand, all terminated in a bloody and widely-
spread rebellion, by which our eastern possessions
were all but lost. Had he gone onward in his in-
novations too boldly and too rapidly; and was this
the inevitable reaction? The question is still one of
doubt and discussion. In the meantime, to set him-
self right with the world, he drew up a minute (jf
his administration in India from January, 1848, to
March, 1856, a voluminous detail, occupying forty
folio pages, and altogether composing one of the
most remarkable state jiapers ever written. It is of
course a justification of his ])roceedings, and as such
is considered partial and one-sided; but even thus,
it gives a distinct view both of the difficulties he
surmounted and the improvements lie carried out in
India.

After stating his princi])les of foreign policy \\hile
governor-general, and the wars into which he was
compelled to enter, he enumerates the kingdoms he
had won to our eastern empire by conf[uest and
annexation. In this way he had addetl four great
kingdoms to the dominions of her majesty Queen
Victoria; of which I'egu and the Punjab had been
coiKiuered, and Nagpore and Oude annexed ; and
besides these, were the smaller ac(|uisitions of .Satara,
Jhansi, and Berar. But still more imiiortant than
their acipiisition, were the imiirovcments he had
introduced for devehjjjing their resources, and secur-
ing to them the Ijlessings of a just and stal)!e govern-
ment. He pointed with honest ])ri(le to the 4000
miles of electric telegraph he had extended over
India; to 2000 miles (jf road he had caused to be
constructed from Calcutta to I'eshawur ; to the
opening cjf the Ganges canal, one of the largest
undertakings f)f the kind in existence; to tlie ]irogress
of the Punjab canal; to the many worl;s of irrigation
he had established over our eastern em])ire, and the
reorganization of an official liepaitmeiU of public

MARQUIS OF DALHOUSIE-

works. Nor were these cither the whole or tlic
most important of his improvements. He had intro-
duced a postal system similar to that of Rowland
Hill, by which letters were conveyed at merely one-
sixteenth of their former charge; he had improved
the traininLj apiiointed for holders of civil ofi'ices ;
and he had introchiced improvements into education
and prison (hscipliue, and into the organization (^f tiie
legislative council. To these and other innovations
of a similar character, he alluded as proofs of the
wisdom and beneficial character of his government —
as the iiighest benefits bestowed by con(|uerors upon
eoiK|uered provinces, in lieu of that liberty which
they knew not how to use. This incessant working
of an iron will witiiiu a naturally delicate constitution
had impaired his health, for the recovery of which
he went to the mountains; but in vain. While in
this enfeebled state he hail sent his wife, also an
invalid, to ISritain, in 1853; but she died on the
voyage, and the first intimation he received of her
death was from hearing the news-boys sliouting the
notice in the streets of Calcutta. It was a heavy
blow added to sickness; and although he continued
to hold on to his duties, it was in doubt whether he
should be able to endure a voyage jiomeward, or
even survive in India until a succe--sor had arrived.

While Lord D.xlh jusie was in this pitiable condi-
tion, he was unexpectedly suinmonetl to the m()>t
ditlicull and obnoxious task that had ever yet occurred
in his administration. A ravenous appetite fjr the
ac<|uisiti(jn of empire in India had lieen increased
by late gratifications, until it had become a sort of
disease, and the h>)nie authorities had resolveil that
the King of Oude siiould be deposed, and hi-, territory
annexed to our .Vngio-lndian empire. It was a
determination as im])olitic as it was unjust. Tlie
kingdom of Oude was still free; its king and court
were recognized as lawful authorities; and the coun-
try was strong in castles and a brave jiopulation,
who, like the ancient Highlanders of Scotlanil, were
ruled by tlieir chiefs embattled among their moun-
tain fortresses. It was fnjm the natives of Oule,
also, that the army of our Bengal piresidency was
chietly recruited, and whom the deed might trans-
form into dangerous and irreconcilable enemies.
Even the native princes were astoun<led at the ini-
quity and danger of such a barefaced purpose. It
was a peculiarly trying difficulty to Lord I )alliou-ie,
and he knew the disgrace which it woukl entad ujion
his character and the history of his rule. He niiglil
also transfer upon his successor the periormance of the
deed, with all its obloquy and danger. Ihit strong
in the sense of duty to his own country and the office
he held, he would not slirink from such a trying
responsii)ility ; and feeling that the task would be
too great for a successor still new to office and the
counlrv, he olTereil to remain in India until it was
conqileted. It was a joyful imimation to tlie home
government, who knew none so fit for the task a^
the Larl of n\Ihou--ie; and from his energy, abilities.
and experience of India and its ]ioIitics, they had no
apprehension of failure. How the annexation of
Oude WIS accomplished, and at what a price, the
mutinv of India is a terrible memorial.

Lord Canning arrived at Calcutta a-; governor-
general in l''e!iruaiy, iS^J, when his |.rcdecessor was
all but exhausted by his exertions; and on the loth
of March I )aiiiousic Iet"t Calcutta, after biddiiv; a sad
farewell to a deputation of the princiinil inhabitants.
On arriving in Ihitain, the situation of prime min-
ister was supjiosed by many ol his friends to be
awaiting him; but, instead ot indulging in such
dreams of amliition. he ri;'ired to his p.ative honn-.
in quest of the rei^oje which he so greatly needed,

ALEXANDER DALRVMPLE.

427

even though it should be in the grave. Nor had his
distinguished services the while l>een forgot. In
1S49, when the Punjab had l>een annexed to our
Indian empire, he was raised to an English |>eerage
by the title of Mar(]uis of Halhousie, of l^alhousic
Castle and of the I'unjab ; and in 1S52 he was
apjiointed Lord Warden of the Cnique I"»>i!s, on the
death of the Duke of WellmgDn, wlio held that
otiice. The marcpiis was inarrie<i in iS^6to Lady
Susan fieorgina, eldest d.-aighter of the .Marquii of
Tweeddale, by whom he had two daughters, but no
sons; and in <lefau!t of male issue, his earldom de-
volved on Lord I'anmure, uho also inlients the
ancestral estate of I)alli<jusie. It was at Halhousie
Castle, the place of his birth, that the .Marquis of
Dalhousie died, on the 19th I)ecend>er, ISU., at the
premature age of forty-eight year>.

DALRYMPLE, Ai.kxandkk. This hydro-
grapher and voluminous writer was the .son of .Sir
James Dalrymjile, liart., of Thiiles, and was the
seventh son of sixteen children by one mother. He
was born at New Thirles, near luHnl-urgh, the seat
of his father, on the 24tli of July, 1736. His ehhst
brother was .^ir David DalrynqJe, better known by
his judicial title of Lonl Hades, and his admirable
writings in Scottish history and antiquities. At an
early age .Mexander was taught geography by his
father — not, however, according to the dry rimtine
of learning the names of kingdoms, capitals, a:i<l
cities by rote, but by showing him their ] laces on
the ma])s, and teaching him whatever was worthy
of notice in their form and situation; and to this was
probably owing the direction of .\le\aii'ler"s studies
liy which he was subsefiuently distinguislied. ( )tl:er-
wise, his education, owing chietly to the political
troubles of the period, was very limited, and finisjied
before he was fourteen years of age; so that. be\ond
a competent knowledge of Latin, all he aI■el■^\al^:s
learned was owing ttj his own ajqdicatioii. Leiore
he had attained his sixteenth year he wcr.t "Ut to
India as a writer in the c(ini]'any"> service. h;s elioice
of the East Indies being decided by reading Xini'wf/" .<
ri'va^Ys, and a novel of the period called /, <' T/uvi-
son. As the chief <jualifications of sr.eh an Indian ap-
pointment at llsat time were writing aii'i b" k-keejs-
ing. in which .Mexander Dalrynqle w.-.s .;e:uiei;i,
he was first put uinier the iiisti-.'.elion.^, i 1 tile store-
keeper, from whom he learned little or n"li-.:r.g; br.t
having soon been removed into the secre'ary's ntnce.
he there fell under the notice I'f Lord I'igo;. il.e r.cw
governor of Nbidras, \\\v\ ]ieree;ving \\\:\\ lie wru". j
a verv bad hand, kindly gave him iiistnKt.oi'.s :n
penmanship, in which the youth niaiie sueh pro-
ficiency, that his lor>is!ii]i often mistook his piq.il's
writing for his own. "ro this in-true';. ::.' .; ;..s
the pupil in his aut.ibiography. "the ] 'iMc .iie \\\
some measure ir.del'ted !or w liatever ex^i. .ii_ vee \\a re
is in the writing to the inajis aii'i eh.-i's ; i.; li-he I by
.Mexander Dalrymple." ..\r.other e\i t .... !,•. ti...",.'i-
whom he lia 1 at this time, \\.;s Mr. 1 'r- . . ::.e d --
tinguishcd historian, who was at il;:s ; iii' ■'. a ir.en;-
ber of council and its nceov.r.'a:.!. 1 i. i". ■":: ' :.- -'-1
note written to him by Mr. I>a!r\:'.^: '.• . I'.c ' a : •..■•■..-
ceived s-aeii a ta\ourab;e opin;";i ■ ! :.:- '....;: t-. t::.it
he pn>pose>l to h.ave hir.i ap; •!:::'- ; h'- -v,' -..cl. -.r;-
tant, and put liim tI;ri-i;L;':i .i e. ■.•.:-e o; tr, ■.,:.,!.,• t >
(lualify him t'or tliis ir.i: ■■;:ar;t ■ ::'..■, '1 !.■■ at ; /.ca-
tion in I >alrymj.';e's beh,;'.! l-a\-.r.^: ] r-v. ; a :.-,:. vi>-.
Mr. ( irme :;ave h:;n tlie t u e ;;-.■ ■! h- \a;;a!,v
library, an.l ar.iiing :;- i.-.re a.r. i eii'' a;- C'...- eVai ■ I
books the (ii-app.i::;te i ean iaia'e \.\::.\ :\\\\ \c i' :;-
solation i;-r h;s' (!>a-: oi:. ;::-:::. L: i:.- ! v:.. .1
Dalrynq le ha.,1 eaieita.ncl .u.h a hatra',! o:' Lrat^e,

42S

ALEXANDER DALRYMPLE.

that he refused to study its language; but having
now become wiser, and finding Boiivefs Voyage in
Mr. Orme's library, he applied himself to the book
without a master, and with the aid of a dictionary
persevered in his task until he had translated the
whole work.

While he was employed in the secretary's office,
Dalrymple had occasion to examine the old records,
and among these he found papers illustrative of the
t;reat importance of the commerce of the islands in
the Eastern Archipelago to the wealth and prosperity
of our Anglo-Indian empire. To recover those
islands and establish that commerce, was now the
great object of his enterprise; and notwitlistanding
his prospect of succeeding to the secretaryship, and
the dissuasions of his patron Lord Pigot, he em-
barked on a voyage to these islands on the 22d of
April, 1759. As ])roofs of his energy in tlie pursuit,
and his characteristic perseverance, Dalrymple dur-
ing this voyage received his first nautical tuition
from the Hon. Thomas Howe, an able navigator,
and captain of the Winchdsca, whose ship accom-
jianied, during ai)artof the voyage, the Citddalore, in
which Dalrymple had embarked. Finding also a col-
lection of .Spanish histories of the Philippine Islands,
he acquired Spanish without a teacher, as he had
done the French language, that he might master
fheir contents. Furnished with secret instructions,
and a document insuring him of a share in the profits
of this adventure, Mr. Dalrymple first visited Sooloo,
with the sultan of which he established a commer-
cial treaty highly advantageous to the East India
Company. Soon afterwards, however, tlie political
affairs of that place underwent such alterations, that
no benefit resulted from the enterprise. In the
meantime, Dalrymple, in January, 1762, returned
from his eastern voyage. In May, the same year,
he returned to Sooloo in the London, a packet newly
arrived from England, as its captain, with a proper
cargo, and a guard of fifteen sepoys; but although
he re-established the friendly understanding between
the country and the India Company, unfortunate
circumstances again interposed to render it ineffec-
tual. Having obtained a grant of the island of
15alambang for the East India Company, he took
jiossession of it in their name on the 23d of January,
1763, on his homeward voyage to Madras. As it
ajipearecl both to him and his friends that the suc-
cess of the Anglo-Indian government, in their inter-
course with the eastern islands, would depend on
the court of directors in London receiving full in-
formation on the subject, Dalrymple resolved to pro-
ceed to England for the purpose. In consequence
of this decision it was resolved by the president and
council of Madras that he should go by the way of
China, taking Sooloo in his voyage, and endeavour
to open up in it connnunications anew; and there ac-
cordingly lie landed, but only for twelve days, dur-
ing which n'jthing imiiortant f)r the pur])oses of
commerce could be effecte<l. He ol)tained, however,
for the East India Company a grant of the north
end of Borneo, and south end of Palawan, with the
intermediate islands. .Sailing thence to .Manilla, he
there found the old Sultan of Sooloo, who had
escaped from the .S]3aniards, and jilaced himself
under British protection. Dalrymple was easily
induced to carry back the dethroned sovereign, and
reinstate him in his dominion'^, and obtained in return
a grant to the East India Company of the nortliern
])art of Borneo. Having thus secured depots for
the commerce with the East India Islands, Dal-
r)-mple proceeded to London, and submitted his
plans to the board of directors; but the administra-
tion of the company's affairs having passed into other

hands, he was deprived of the co-operation of those
influential friends by whom he hoped his measures
would have been carried out. The advantages which
would have been derived not only by the East Com-
pany, but by Britain at large, from such an establish-
ment in the eastern islands, were fully detailed in a
pam])hlet which he published, entitled, A Flan for
extending the Connnerce of this Kingdom, and of the
East India Company, hy an Establishment at Balam-
bang. This ])amphlet, although printed in 1769,
was not published till 177 1.

Disappointments, which, like misfortunes, seldom
come singly, now crowded upon the bold and ta-
lented projector. After his commercial speculation,
in which so much labour and energy were expended,
had been set aside, a movement was made by the
friends of Dalrymple for the establishment of a
hydrographical office in this country, to the superinten-
dence of which he should be ajipointed, with a salary
of ;i^500 per annum. But although the negotiation
went on so prosperously that the situation was pro-
mised to him, the appointment did not follow.
Afterwards, ha\ing communicated his collection of
papers on discoveries in the south seas, which had
been a favourite subject of Dalrymple's study, the
secretary of state to whom they were presented ex-
pressed his regret that he had not seen them sooner,
as the appointment was already filled up. .Some
time after, when the Royal Society proposed to send
persons to observe the transit of Venus in 1769,
Dalrymple was thought of as fit for such a task, and
he was commissioned by the admiralty to examine
two vessels that were to be purchased for that espe-
cial service. But, by a change of the plan, a naval
officer was appointed to command the vessel, with
joint authority in the expedition; and Dalrymple,
who was aware of the danger of divided councils in
such an enterprise, declined to set out on that foot-
ing. One appointment, however, which gave him
the highest satisfaction of any, was destined, by its
failure, to be the worst affliction of all. The court
of India directors had appointed him chief of Balam-
bang, and commander of the ship Britannia; and
thus employed in his favourite commercial scheme,
he might have been consoled in his eastern island
for the failure of his hopes in England. But his
commission was superseded, and an incomi)etent
person was placed in his room. In consequence
of the dissatisfaction of the directors with that func-
tionary, they resolved to send a supervisor to Balam-
bang, and in this case Dalrymjile offered his services,
to redeem the expedition from destruction. He also
offered his services free of any present remuneration,
except defraying his expenses, and that a small por-
tion of the clear profits of the establishment should
be granted to him and his heirs. This liberal offer,
instead of being at once accepted, was referred by
the directors to a committee of correspondence to
examine and report. Whatever report they made,
if any, is unknown; but the caj^ture of Balambang
soon afterwards, by some Sooloo freebooters, made
the services of the committee superfluous.

I-"rom the time of his return to England in 17^5'
Dalrymple had been almost constantly engaged in
collecting and arranging materials for a full exposi-
tion of the importance of the eastern islands and
south seas, and was encouraged by the court of
directors to ])ublish various charts, &c. He also
took every occasion to keep u]^ his claim on the
-Madras establishment, and on the aiipointment of
his patron, Lord Pigot, to be governor of Fort St.
(ieorge, in 1775, he was reinstated in the service of
the East India Conijiany, and was nominated to be
one of the committee of circuit. He accordingly

ALEXANDER DALRYMPLE -

went out to Madras, and entered upon the duties of
his office, until 1777, when he was recalled, with
others, under a resolution of the general court to have
their conduct inquired into; but nothing appears to
have resulted from the inquiry. Two years after-
wards he was appointed hydrographer to the liast
India Company, and in 1795, when the Admiralty
establisiied a similar office, Alexander Dalrymple
was judged the fittest person to hold it. Of his
talent, indeed, as a hydrographer, the following
valuat)le testimony was given by the distinguished
Admiral Kempenfelt, in a letter which he wrote to
Dalrymple: — "I have received your very valuable
charts for particular parts of the East Indies: what
an infinite deal of pains and time you must have
bestowed to form such a numerous collection! It
seems an Herculean labour; but it is a proof what
genius joined with industry is capable of However,
you have the pleasing reflection that you have suc-
cessfully laboured for the public goo<l, the good of
navigation, and that your memory will live forever."
Although he was already hydrographer to the East
India Company, the court of directors made no
objection to his holding the same office fi^r tlie
Admiralty, judging rightly that the two offices were
not incompatible, but rather parts of each other; and
accordingly, Alexander Dalrymple accepted the
government appointment. The appointment, in-
deed, was only a tardy act of justice, as when the
office of hydrographer to the Admiralty had been
proposed nineteen years earlier, it had been promised
to Dalrymiile.

In this arduous and responsible situation he con-
tinued till 1808, when the Admiralty called for his
resignation on the ground that he w.as superannuated.
He was now in the seventy-first year of his age, and
miglit be supposed too old for the duties of his
office; but Dalrymple, with that h.ibitual energ)- of
purpose which in old age often hardens into ob-
stinacy, refused to give in his resignation. He
proljably thought, like the I'ishop of Cirenada, that
he had never been so active, so fit for his duties,
and efficient as at present, although he had already
finished the usual date assigned to the life of man.
In consequence of his refusal to resign, he was dis-
missed, and his death, which occurred only a montli
after (June 19, 1808), may lie su]ip()se<l to have been
hastened by vexation at his dismissal. He left a
large library, which was especially rich in works on
navigation and geography; and of these the Ad-
miralty purchased the most select, while the others
were (lis]X)sed of by auction. His own works were
numerous, amounting to fifty-nine volumes and
tracts; liut many of them were of a personal and
])olitical character, and therefore were soon forgot.
Of those that were more important, and connected
witli his own scientific pursuits, we can mcrelv select
the titles of the following: — .■L-coniif of Disi\>-,\-rics
in tl'.L South Pacific Ocean before 1764, Svo, 1764.
Plan for extending tlie Covntterce of litis A'nte;Joi>!,
and of the l-'.ast [tidia Cotnpanv. by an l-lslablish-
ment at l-talamhane^ait, 1771. Historical CoHection
if South Sex \'oyae;ee. 2 vols. 410. 1770- I. /'/v/.v/-
lion of a Pcnc-.oleiil I'oya^e to introduce Corn, &-~'e.,
info .\'e:o Zealand, 4to, 1 77 1. Proposition for Print-
in:;, by Subscription, t'u- MS. J'ey.i^rs and Trarels
in the Pritisb .Museum, 410, 1773. .hi Historical
Relation of the sei-eral Pxpeditionsfroni Port .Var.'brd
to the Islainf- of the West t'oaf of Sumatra, 410,
1775- " Collection (f I 'ova.;es, chietly in tlie South
Atlantic Ocean, from the orii^-inal MS., by 1 >r.
IlaHev. M. Ilouvet. iVc. ; with a I'leface C'lnecrning
a Vovage of I )i>ci')V(Ty jiroiio^ed to he ur.ilcrtaken
by Alexantler Dalrymi !o at h!s own exjier.jc; l.-^tlers

SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE.

429

to Lord North on the subject, ami Plan of a Re-
publican Colony," 4U>, 1775. " J'l'tit for Prvmotttti;
the Pur Prade, and securing it to this Countr>-, bv
uniting the Operations of the East India and Hud'-
son's Hay Companies," 4to, 17S9. ",-/« Historual
Journal of the Pxpedituoi, by Sea and Land, to the
North of Californni in 1768, 1 769, and 1 770, when
Spanish Establishments were fir-.t made at .San
Diego and Monterey; translated from the Spanish
MS., by William Kevely, Em].; to which is adde<i.
Translation of Cabrera liueno's Descrii)tion of the
Coast of California, and an Extract from the MS.
Journal of .\L Sauvagne le -Muet, 1714," folio, 1790.
A Prcatisc of Practical Xa-i.;at!on. (Of this work
only three chapters were printed.)

DALRYMPLE,SiR D.win, a celebrated Scotti-h
judge and antifjuary, was bom at Edinl)urgh, on the
28lh of October, 1726. His father was Sir James
Dalrymple, of Hailes, Bart., and his mother. Lady
Christian Hamilton, a daughter of the Earl of Had-
dington. His grandfather, who was lord-advocate
for .Scotlanil during the reign of Ceorgc I., was the
youngest son of the first Lord Stair, and distinguished
for al)ility even among the members of his own able
family; and his father, Sir James, had the auditor-
ship of the exchequer bestowed upon him for life. .Sir
David Dalrymple was sent to be educated at Eton,
where he was eminently distinguished for atjilityand
general good conduct. At this seminary he accjuired,
with a competent share of classical learning, a fine
classical taste and a partiality for English manners
and customs, which marked through life both his
public and private conduct. Er<jm Eton he returned
to Etlinburgh, where lie went through the usual
course at the university; and afterwards went to
Utrecht, where he prosecuted the study of the civil
law, till the suppression of the rebellion in the year
1746, when he returned to his native cmmtry. from
the sobriety of his character, with his ardour and
diligence in prosecuting whatever subject arrested
his attention, the highest hojies of his fiiture eminence
were now entertained by his friends. Nor were
these hopes disapjiointed; although circumstances
led him into studies not altogether such as l;e wiii;M
have pursued, had he been left to the bent (jf his
own genius. The study of antiiiuities and the belles-
lettres was the most congenial to Ids own mind, nn 1
in both he was eminently fitted to excel; but fri r.i
tlie state of his affairs on the death o( his lather. v»ho
let't a large family and an estate deejily encumbered,
he foun<l it necessary to adojn the law as a i^rofes-
sion, that he might be able to meet the deniaii.is
which lay against the family inheritance, and make
suitable ]irovision f^r those dependent on him. lie
accordingly made his appearance as an ailvocate,
or, as it is technically exiTessed, was callel to \]-.o
Scottish bar, in the year 174S. Here. li. v.e\e;-.
tliough he hail considerable ]iractice, b.is success v..,~
not equal to the sanguine exjiectatious 1 it l-.is Irieii':-.
In the science of law few men were mere e\;.::
than Sir David Dalrymjile. and in i ohu ..f iii.;u-;ry
he was surpassc'! by no one of his c"i;'.ei;i; "laric- :
l)Ut he had certain pecubaritie-. jv-i'al'ly iiiierei ;
in his nature, strengthene 1 liy s;u.^'.y. a:; 1 c-r.t::i;.i .
by hal'it. that ini]vded h\- yn -vv-~. :.vA niviirci
his efforts less effective th.'.'i tii -e ■ 'fir.e;'. w!:'> we:>-
far his inferiors in iiatuial and ccycw-: .-.'i:'..f .<. ~.

From natural m-dcsty a;;d ^' i ;.>"e lie h.-.d .a

sovereign C'^ntein]-t f'f vers ,1! ,::;•;■ ;;est s. r -u'^Iei^
perioib, and evory'.lii:^^' ;!iat h.i "
declamation, f r e\cell;n,; ;r. w h
uniiual.llei! — his \, .;^ j ;>; 1:',; ;..-:-:
u;i::;ace:ul. Li c-- :;-- .ui. ;:cc it

sC!

anc

he

^^■as \. .■
c !. .:iidli;sma;
th.~e dcf.sts.

430

SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE,

pleadings, which were always addressed to the judg-
ment, never to the passions, often fell short of those
of his opponents, who, ])ossessing less enlarged views
of their subject, but having higher rhetorical powers,
and being less fastidious in the choice of words, cap-
tivated their auditors by the breadth of their irony
and the sweeping rotundity of their periods. Nor
did his memorials, tiiough classically written, and
replete with valuable matter, at all times meet with
the approbation of the court, which was disposed
at times to lind fault with their brevity, and some-
times with the extreme attention they manifested to
the minutix' of forms, in which it was alleged he
concealed the merits of the case. On points, how-
ever, which interested his feelings, or which involved
the interests of truth and virtue, he lost sight of llie
intricacies of form; his language became glowing,
and his arguments unanswerable. No advocate of
his own standing was at the time more truly respect-
able; and he was often employed as advocate-depute,
which gave him frequent op])ortunities of manifest-
ing that candour of heart and tenderness of disposi-
tion, which were at all times striking features of his
character, and which so well become the prosecutor
in a criminal court. Cloing the western circuit on
one occasion, in this capacity, he came to the town
of Stirling, where, the fust day of the court, he was
in no haste to Ijring on the business; and being met
by a brother of the bar, was accosted with the ques-
tion, why there was no trial this forenoon. "Tiiere
are," said .Sir David, "some unhappy culprits to I)e
tried for their lives, and tlierefore it is proper they
have time to confer for a little with their men of
law." ''That is of very little consequence," said the
o'her. ''Last year I came to visit Lord Kaimes
when he was here on the circuit, and he appointed
me counsel for a man accused of a rape. Though
I had very little time to prepare, yet I made a decent
si'jeecli." "I'ray, sir," said .Sir David, "was your
client acquitted or condemned?" "(.)," replied the
otiier, "u^()^t unju.^tly condenmcd." "Tliat, sir,"
said the depute-advocate, "is no good argument for
hurrying on trials."

1 laving practised at the bar with increasing reputa-
tion for eighteen years, .Sir David Dalrymj^le was,
with the warmest a])probali<m of tlie ])uljlic, ap-
pointed one of the judges of the (Jourt of Session,
in the year 1766. He took his seat on the bench
with the usual formalities, by tlic title of Lord Ilailes,
the designation by which he is generally known
among the learned throughont ]'-uro])e. This was
a situation which it was admitted on ail hands that
Sir ])avid 1 ).ilrynii)le was admirably calculated to
fdl. Ili^ unwearied as.^icjuity in sifting daik and in-
tricate matter-- to tlie bottom was well known, and
his manner of expression, elegant and concise, \\as
admirabl .■ suited to tlie cliair <.if authority. Tiiat his
legal o[)iTiioii> had al\\a_\s been foun<l to be sound,
was al->o generally believed; yet it has been candidly
admitted, that he was, as a judge, neither so useful
nor so highly venerated as the extent of hi-, know-
ledge and his unquestioned integrity led hi-, frimds
to expect. The same minute attention to fonns,
wliich had in some degree imj)eded his jirogres^ at
the bar, accoin])anied him to tlie bench, and excited
sometimes the merriment of lighter niiiids. It is to
lie nolice<l, however, that, too little reg;ird has been,
on some occasions, in the very veneraMe 'Huit of
.'>es--ioii, ])aid to fornix; and that form--, ap]i:ireiit ly
trilling, have seldom, in legal ]iroceediiigs, been dii-
r.^-garded, without in some degree affecting the in-
lere^tsfjf truth and justice. It hasalso been remarked,
that such was the opiniim which the C)tl)er jui|g<s
entertained of the accuracy, diligence, and dignihed

character of Lord Ilailes, that, in the absence of the
lord-president, he was almost always placed in the
chair. After having acted as a lord of session for
ten years, Lord Ilailes was, in the year 1776, nomi-
nated one of the lords of justiciary, in which capacity-
he commanded the respect of all men. I'\illy im-
pressed with a sense of the importance of his office
in the criminal court, all his singularities seemed to
forsake him. Before the time of Ilailes, it had been
too much the case in the Scottish criminal courts
for the judge to throw all the weight of his influence
into the scale of the crown. Lord Hailes, imitating
the judges of England, threw his into the scale of
the jirisoner, especially when the king's counsel
seemed to be overpowering, or when there was any
particular intricacy in the case. It is to be regretted
that, in almost all of our courts of justice, oaths are
administered in a manner highly indecorous, tending
rather to derogate from the importance of that most
solemn act. In this respect Lord Hailes was the
very model of perfection. Rising slowly from his
seat, with a gravity peculiarly his own, he pro-
nounced the werds in a manner so serious as to
impress the most profligate mind with the convic-
tion that he was himself awed with the im.mcdiate
presence of that awful Majesty to whom the appeal
was made. When the witness was young, or
appeared to be ignorant, his lordship was careful,
before putting the oath, to point out its nature and
obligations in a manner the most persjiicuous and
affecting. It is perhaps impossible for human vigi-
lance or sagacity altogether to ]irevcnt perjury in
courts of justice; but he was a villain of no common
order that could perjure himself in the presence of
Lord Hailes. In all doubtful cases it was his lord-
ship's invariable practice to lean to the side of mercy;
and when it became his painful duty to pass sentence
of death upon convicted criminals, he did so in a
strain so jiious and so pathetic, as often to overwhelm
in a flood of tears the promiscuous multitudes that
are wont to be assembled on such occasions. In
the discharge of this painful part of his duty. Lord
Ilailes may have been equalled, but he was certainly,
in this country at least, never surpassed.

\Vhile Lord Ilailes was thus diligent in the dis-
charge of the public duties of his high jdace, he was,
in those hours which most men find it necessary to
devote to rest and recreation, ]m)ducing vnrks upon
all manner of subjects, exceeding in number, an<i
surpassing in value, those of many men wliose lives
have been wholly devoted to literature. ( )i' these, as
they are in few hands, though some of them at least
are exceedingly curious and highly interesting, we
shall present the reader with such notices as our limits
will permit, in the order in which they were pub-
lished. His first w(U"k seems to have hvcu Siurn/
y'i>r;//y, a CoH^-cdou of 'J'ransldtious and Paraplivascs
from li'ic Holy Si ripturcs by I'arioiis Aiilhors, Edin-
burgh, 1751, I2mo, dedicated to Charles Lord Ilojie.
with a preface of ten ])ages. The next was Jlu
W'isilom of Soloiuoii, ll'iu/oiii of fi'siis, the Son oj
Siniili or I'.riliwiastious, from t/w ylfoirvf/io, i2mo,
i'.dinburgh, 1755, without preface or coninieiUary.
in the year f<j|lo'.\ ing, 1756, he ])ulilislie<l, in I2nio,
''S,/,Y/' J)i.uPiirscs, by John Smith, late fellow of
(Kieen's College, Cambridge, witli a jireface, many
quotations from the learned languages translated, and
notes adde<l, containing allusions to aiicieiit tiiylho-
log}-, and to the erroneous ])hilosophy which ]ir(:-
\ailed in the days of the autlujr," iVc. tVc. Next
year, 1757, he republished, with note--, "- / J>i.<i'oursc
of I he [nmititral and Vile Cons firaey utleni fled ly
Joint I'.eirl of (ioirrie, and his Jlrolher, ai^iiuisl his
Majesly's Sacred Person, at St. Jvlinitonn, 5th of

SIR DAVID DALRYMTLE.

431

August, 1600," 121110. Two vessels, the Betsey
CtiHttinghain, and the Leith packet J'ihairii, from
London to Leitli, bcini; wrecked on the shore be-
tween Dunbar and North Berwick, in the month of
October, 1761, and pillaged by the country people,
as was too often done on all the coasts of Britain,
and is sometimes done to this day. Sir David pub-
lished a sermon, wliich might have been preached
in East Eothian on the 25th day of October, 1761:
Ac. xxvii. I, 2, "The barbarous people showed us
no little kindness." This is an admirable discourse,
deej)ly affecting, and calculated in a particular manner
to carry conviction to the offenders. In 1762 he
published from the press of the Foulises, Glasgow,
''Mei/torui/s and Letters relating to the History of
Britain in the Keign of James I. of Engla)id, from a
Collection in the .Xdvocates' Library, by Balfour of
Denmyln, with a Preface and a few Notes." This is
an exceedingly curious little volume, throwing much
light on the character of the British Solomon and
liis sapient courtiers. In 1765 he published, from
the same press, the works of tlie ever memorable
Mr. John llailes of Eaton, now first collected to-
gether, in three volumes, with a short preface, and a
dedication to Bishop Warburton, the edition said to
be undertaken with his approbation. The same
year he i)ubli>hed a specimen of a book entitled
".-/«(.' Coni/'entiioiis Booke of Godly and Spiritual
Sings, collectit out of sundrie parts of ScrijHure,
with sundrie of other Ballotis changed out of IVo-
phane .Sangs for avoyding of .Sin and 1 larlotrie," &c.
This was printed at Eduiburgli, in i2mo, and was
l!ie first introduction of that singular performance to
the notice of mo<lern readers. In 1766 he ]niblished
at CHasgow, '■' Manorials and Letters Kelating to the
History of Britain in the Reign of Charles I., pub-
lished from the originals, collected by Mr. Robert
Wodrow, the historian of the sufferings of the Church
of Scotland." This is a very curious performance;
and it was followed, the same year, by one per-
haps still more so— an account of the preservation
of King Charles II. after liie battle of Worcester,
tlrawn up by himself; to which are added his
letters to several persons. The same year he
published the secret corre-^pondence between Sir
Robert Cecil and James \'i.; and the year follow-
ing, '".7 Catalogue of the /.ords of Sess/on, fn^in t!ie
institution of the College of Justice, in the year 1532,
with historical notes. Tiie private correspoiK.lence
of Dr. Francis .Viterijury, lii>hop of Rocliester, au'l
his friends in 1 725, was published by Lord Jlaile-^
in I 76S 69. An examination of some of the argu-
ment-, f )r the high antiquity of Keguuii J/afsfa/e//:.
and an imiuiry into the authenticity of ihc /,eges J /a/ -
eo'ini. Al>.o, JLs/orieid Memoirs concerning the
Bro7'in:ial C'onnr/ls of t'le Seottisk Cl.rgv, from the
B.ariiest .\i:o'.ii:ts to the Era of the Reformation. At
the same time he pulili.^hel, Canons of the CliiireJi
of S-o.'Ln: I. ilr.ro;! up in the J^ro7-ineial Co:niei:'s
/:\'l at J'.r.'h A.I>. 1242 ,/;/,/ 1269. In 1770 he
]>u:)li--,Iied .l!!e:e::t S ott.sh /Wms, imbli.-hed from
MS. of (ienrge llaiinalyne, 1508. with a number of
curious nii'.e.^ an! a g!'>^-ary. Hi-- l.)rd>h;p"s next
ju'riorir.ance wa> " /he . Li.iif.on :l Case cf J-.iizabeth,
( Va/mmg the /'.tie ,.•■.• / D.gnity of ( 'ountess of S:tther-
land, hv her Cu.:rd: :': : \\ I'.erein the rait> and arg;;-
meiu,-. in supp nt nl lier claim are more l:i!ly -taied.
and the en-r^ in tlu- a i.r.ti. i:ial ca-e-- f'r the otiier
(.Iaim.T.nt-> aio detee;, <i." Tlii^ mn~t -in;_;i'.iarly learned
and able ca^e w,>s ~u!'-ei:hed I'v .Mexaii ier Weider-
burn, af;er\\ar.i-> l..r i-i. '..an.;. 1'. >r of laiglan.!. an.l Sir
.Adam l-'ergu.> >n. lr.;t i^ the well-kiMwn work of
Lord Ilaile-. Tii- ; .rf.'v.'.i.-.nee i-n.it to be r.'gar.le'!
merely as a Liwpr ^r ..f great ability, but a^ a

treatise of profound research into the history and
anti(iuity of many important ami general ptdnts of
succession and family liistory. In 1 773 he jiublished
Reinar/is on the J/istory of Scotland. in-,cril>cd to
Oeorge, Lord Lyttlcton. In 1776 he publi^he<i,
Hulierti /.angiiett J-fistol.r ad J'hili/punt Syduenim,
Jujuitem Angluin, ice, inscribed to Lord-chief baron
Smythe. The same year was published his Annals
of Scotland, from the Accession of Malcolm ///., sur.
named Can more, to the Accession oj R.'/'crt /. This
was followed, three years after, by Annals of Scot-
land, from the Accession of Rolcrt L, sin named the
Bruce, to the Accession of the House of Stuart. This
is a most admirable work, but as it enjc.vs universal
celebrity, and is in the hands of every One who is
studious of Scottish history, we do not think it
necessary to give any j)articular remark- upon it. In
1776 he published the first volume of the Remains
of Christian Antiquity, a work of great erudition,
containing accounts of the martyrs of Snnriia nnd
Lyons in the second century, with ex];Ip.nnti.ry note-;
dedicated to Bishop Hurd. This is a new and c. r-
rect version of two most ancient episiie-, the o:;e
from the church at .Smyrna to the chureii Pi I'hii-
adelj^ihia; the other from the Christians at X'iemie
and Lyons to tho-e in .-Vsia ancl I'hrygia; tlieir anti-
quity and authenticity are undoubted, (ireat \?.x\
of both is extracted from Lusebius' Juciisiastuai
History. The former was first completely edited by
Archbishop Usher. Lord Hailes, witli th.at singular
moflesty which characterized him, says of his notes
to this work, that they will afford little ne'.\- or in-
teresting to men of erudition, tli'mgh they m.-iy
[irove of some benefit to the unlearned reader. '1 !;-■
erudition Lord llailes possessed on the-e toj.ies
was of a kind so singular, and is so little studied,
that he might h.avesjiared any a])oloi;y on the sub-.-ct.
the learned being, in fact, Un the mo-t ] art, fn
these subjects more ignorant than t!ie unlearncl.
With nuich Useful learning, however, these iii'tt-
display what i- still better, true J^iety and ardent /eal.
co;inected with :m exemplar)- knouk- !ge of Chr:--
tianity. In 177S his loi.i-hii) puM;>lu.i the sec:. d
vi)Iuine of this work, dj iieated to Dr. NewtT:.
Bishop of r.ri-tn!. T!ii- V' luine c<.r.taii:s tiie tri..i
of Justin Martyr and hi- c iiiq'ani .n-; the e; i-;'ie ' !
Diouysius. Bishop of Alexaiidr;.;. \" V:.\>:\\~, i!ishop
of .\ntioeh; the trial an.l execv.'-"ii of Iruetuosu-.

Bishiip of d'orriiceiia in ."sjain, a;;.! .: '
.\ugurius au'l Lul'.giu-; tlie ma;. '.en .
These are all iiewl)- translated by I..
Ruinart. Luse!)ii;-. .Vml.i. >se. \c. T
volume di-play a most intiinate r.cj'r.a
tiquitv. great critical aeuineii. b. th in
sense and detecting interpolati' ■;;-, a:
fervent and eniigliteneii /eal in v.r..:ie
nients ai'..i c.iii'hict as are c. >;il 'rr..a' '.
( iod, against the maliciou- sare.i-ir.-
The third v.i'.uine ajipeare 1 in 17S:
Thomas Bal^ray, I ). 1 ». 1: e.nta;:,-;
martyrs of I'aie-iir.e in the i!..: i n:.
iVom J''.u-e;)ir.-. In I'.ie i;. ;-.■.:; ; :i.i
vohnne ( ii'.iii.iu c. 'ir.e- ag.'.in i;;i :. :'
]>arlial;ly aivl mi-re; re-en".:;;. : - .v.
torilv expo^ci. I:i i;'^! !;e ] ::' '-"
/^uilgiu- iv M.:- ::■ .;/.;;,•/ ;...' / ■'■'.
ii!u-trat;M:w. d lu- -; Mil-.e; - ar.' ( ' . r
and < »etav:us. a ( "!.; ;-:;,\;i. \^i; -• .^V-
w;;h h;- tVien 1 l.> lee ■;.. .' < '.; : ..■;
IT82 he pui.:;-:.e.l a ;, ,-:-■. i ;• I '

r;- two ileacon-
Ai:;;..ch, \i.
llaiies rrer;i
n. .:.-.. ftlu-
ar.ee w.th an-
u.i.i. ::i;- tl,.

Mr. (d:

I of the in.ir.;;
j was de.i;^.;;'-
i aiteruar 1- 1'.

'V cr.

.al

In i;-

432

SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE.

tions concerning the Antiquity of the Christian Church,
inscribed to Dr. Halifax, Bishop of Gloucester. This
small but highly original work consists of six chap-
ters: 1st, of the conduct and character of Gallio;
2d, of the time at which the Christian religion be-
came known at Rome; 3d, of the cause of the per-
secution of the Christians under \ero, in which the
hypothesis of Gibbon is examined; 4th, of the emi-
nent heathens who are said by Gibbon to have con-
temned Christianity, viz. Seneca, the Plinys elder
and younger, Tacitus, Galen, Epictetus, Plutarch,
and Marcus Antoninus (this chapter is jiarticularly
interesting to the admirer of heathen piiilosophers
and heathen philosophy); 5th is an illustration of a
conjecture of Gibbon respecting the silence of Dion
Cassius concerning the Christians; and the 6th treats
of the circumstances respecting Christianity that
are to be found in the Augustan history. There can
scarcely be a doubt, that all these works treating of
the early ages of Christianity, were suggested l)y the
misrepresentations of Gibbon, and were they circu-
lated as widely as Gibbon's work, would be found a
complete antidote. His lordship, however, was not
satisfied with this indirect mode of defence, and, in
17S6, published An Inquiry into the Secondary Causes
zohieh Mr. Gibbon has Assigned for the Rapid Gro-vih
of Christianity; in which he has most triumphantly
set aside his conclusions. This performance he
gratefully and affectionately inscribed to Richard
Hard, liishop of Worcester. The same year his
lordship published sketches of the lives of John
liarclay; of John Hamilton, a secular priest; of Sir
James Ramsay, a general officer in the army of Gus-
tavus .Vdolphus, King of Sweden; of George Leslie,
a Capuchin friar; aiul of Mark xVlexander Boyd.
These lives were written and published as a specimen
of the manner in which a Biographica Scotica might
be executed, and we do not know that he proceeded
any further with the design. In 1788 he published,
from her original MSS., the Opinions of Sarah,
Duchess of Marlborough, with notes, corrective of
her ladyship's splenetic humour; and, in 1790, he
translated and published, with notes and illustrations.
The Address of Q. Sept. Tertullian to Scapula Ter-
tullus. Pro-consul of Africa. This address contains
many j^articulars relating to the church after the
third century, and in the notes some strange inac-
curacies of Mr. Gibbon are detected.

This was the last work which Lord Ilailes lived
to publish. His constitution had been long in an
enfeebled state, which so much diligence in study
mu>t have tended to increase. He continued, how-
ever, to prosecute his studies, and to attend his duty
on the JK-nch till within three days of his death,
which happened on the 29th of November, 1792, in
the sixty-sixth year of his age. His lordship was
twice married. ]5y his first wife, Anne lirown, only
daughter of Lord Coalston, one of the judges of the
Court of .Session, he left issue one daughter, who
inherited his estate. By his seconrl wife, Helen
Ferguson, youngest daughter of Lord Kilkerran, he
left also issue, one daughter. I laving no male issue,
his baronetcy descended to his nepiiew. Df the
character of Lord Hailcs, there can be but one
opinion. As an able lawyer and an upriglit judge,
he stands eminently conspicuous in an age and a
c )untry where such characters were not rare; an<l
when the exercise of such (jualities, from their super-
abundance, scarcely could merit i)raise. As a man
of general erudition he stands, if we except War-
burton, almost without a rival in the age he lived in.
His skill in classical learning, the belles-lettres, and
historical antiquities, especially those of his own
country, have been universally admitted ; and had

popularity been his intention, as it was of too many
of his contemporaries, there cannot be a doubt but
that he could have made himself the most shining
meteor among them. Instead, however, of fixing
upon subjects that might interest the frivolous, or
draw upon him the smiles of the fashionable and the
gay, he sedulously devoted his studies to such sub-
jects as he thought particularly called for by the
circumstances of the times, and with which all would
be benefited by becoming acquainted. A shallow
spirit of scepticism was abroad, which, aided by
ignorance and misrepresentation, was threatening to
become universal, and to change the sober and
meditative character of Britons into frothy petulance
and fli]5pant vanity. This he attempted to meet by
sober investigations into the truth of the facts that
had been so confidently assumed res])ecting the early
history of Christianity, by which he certainly left his
opponents without the shadow of an excuse for
persisting in their conclusions, having proved to a
demonstration that their premises were false. Whe-
ther he might not have done this in a more popular
form we cannot now stay to inquire into. We
certainly think the mode he adopted that which was
best calculated to cut off the cavilling of adversaries,
and to carry conviction to the mind of the reader;
and to those who wish to treat the subject in a more
popular form, his lordship has furnished abundant
materials. His various republications of the ancient
poetry of Scotland, and the publication of original
letters regarding her history and manners, while
they throw much light upon the history of the coun-
try and the domestic economy of the times to which
they relate, present his lordship in a most amiable
point of view; and, while we admire the scholar and
the philosopher, we cannot cease to venerate and to
love the man. Of his Annals ■\\-e have already
spoken. Though necessarily written in a close and
severe style, they have long ago risen to a pitch of
popularity far beyond many works that took a more
immediate hold of the public mind; and we have no
doubt that ages will only add to their value. In-
deed, he has left nothing to be done for the periods
that came under his review. His inquiry into the
secondary causes which Gibbon has assigned for the
rapid progress of Christianity, is also a master] Jiece
of its kind, displaying great critical acumen, close
reasoning, and great zeal for truth, without the
smallest particle of that rancour which too often
runs through theological controversy. With all his
virtues and all his accpurements, joined to the finest
natural abilities, Lord Ilailes was not one of those
who could boast of the large sums he received fcr
the copyright of his works. He was most com-
monly his own publisher; and, as is generally the
case in such circumstances, the circulation of his
writings was, with a few exceptions, confined to the
]>articular friends and acquaintances whom he had
drawn around him. The consequence is, that there
are many of them no longer to be met with, being
wholly confined to the cabinets of the curious. It
would be a meritorious work in these days of literary
enter])rise, and we cannot doubt that an intelligei.t
and sjiirited publisher might find it a jmifilable
speculation, to jiublish a neat, chea]-), an<l unirnrni
edition of his multifarious publications. Lord 1 laiks
possessed a natural taste for retirement. The slate
of his affairs, at a most important jieriod of liis life,
rendered it necessary for him, and the lial/it grew
ujion him as he advanced in years. His consiitutimi,
of which he was careful, as well as his ]irinciplcs and
habits, rendered him averse to every kind of dissipa-
tion. After he w.is constituted a judge, he considerefl
it unbecoming his character to mingle much with

JAMES DAI.RVMPLE.

433

the fashionable and the gay world. When he chose
to unbend his mind, therefore, it was in the society
of a few easy frientls, whom he had selected as much
on account of tlieir moral and reliy;ious worth, as for
their genius or learning. With that constellation of
men of genius and science which illuminated Edin-
burgh at that period. Lord Hailes had much agreeable
and profitable conversation ; but it was impossible
for friendship or close intimacy to subsist between
men who thouglit so differently as he and the most
of them did upon the most important of all subjects.
Though a Whig, and strongly attached to the best
principles of the Revolution, he took no part in the
broils, civil or ecclesiastical, which agitated the
country in the first period of the reign of George III.
Some of these he regarded as frivolous, and others
as mischievous, and from conscience could not
allow himself to sympathize with them. Conscious
at all times of the dignity and importance of the
high office which he held, he never departed from
the decorum becoming that reverend character. This
decorum it cost him no effort to support, because he
acted from principle improved into a daily sentiment
of the heart. Affectionate to his family and rela-
tions, simple and mild in his manners, i)ure in his
morals, enlightened and entertaining in his conversa-
tion, he left society only to regret, that devoted as
he was to more important employments, he had so
little time to spare for intercourse with them.

DALRYMPLE, James, Viscount Stair, an emi-
nent lawyer and statesman, and the progenitor of
many distinguished ]iersons, was born at Drum-
murchie, in the parish of Barr, Ayrshire, in the
month of May, 1619. His father, who bore the
same name, was proprietor of the small estate of
Stair in that county, which on his death in 1624
fell to his son. James Dalrymple received his
education at tlie parish school of ^Iauchline and the
university of Glasgow, and at an early age entered
the; army raised in Scotland to repel the religious
innovations of Charles L In 1641, when he had
attained a captaincy in the Earl of Glencairn's regi-
ment, he became a competitor for the chair of
philosophy at Glasgow, and gained it against several
rivals. Former writers have made a wonder of his
ap])earing at this competition in his military dress of
buff and scarlet, and also at his retaining his com-
mission as captain for some time after assuming the
philosophy chair. The tnith is, he and his brethren
in arms could hardly be considered as soldiers, but
rather as civilians taking up arms for a temporary
])urposc; and, by tiie same enthusiasm, even clergy-
men ap])cared occasionally with sword and jiistol.
Dalrymple held this chair for six years, during whicli
he employed much of his time in the study of civil
law, whicli was not then taught publicly in .Scotland.
His mind ir.-ing thus turned to the law as a profes-
sion, he resigned his ciiair in 1647, and in the ensuing
year Ijccanie an advocate at the Scottish bar. His
abilities soon procured hini both legal and jioiitical
distinction. In 1649 lie was ajipointed secretarv to
tlie commissioners who were sent by tiie .Scottish
parliament to treat with Charles II., then an exile
ill Holland, for iiis return to his native dominions.
He held the same ofliee in the m'.>re successful mis-
sion of lO^O; and we are told that, on this occasion,
he recommended himself to the king by his "abili-
ties, sincerity, and moderation."'' After a short
residence in Hollaiid, during which he saw a numlier
of the lefirne<l men of that country, he retur;ie<l to
Scotland, and was one of two persons sent by the

parliament to attend the king at his landing. In the
Cronnvellian modification of the Court of Session, he
was, in 1C57, appointed one of the "commissioners
for administration of justice," chiefly upon the recom-
mendation of General Monk, who thus characterized
him in a letter to the jirotector — "a very honc-st
man, a good lawier, and one of a c<jnsidcrable estate."
It was not, however, with<jut great difficulty that
he was prevailed upon to accept ofhce under the
government of Cromwell. He took the earliest
opportunity, after the I<estorati(jn, of paying hij
respects to the king, who knighted him, and nomin-
ated him one of the new judges. Erom this office,
however, he retired in 1663, in order to avoid taking
"the declaration" — an oath abjuring the right to
take up arms against the king. Next year, on the
personal solicitation of the king, he resumed his
duties, with only a general declaration of his aver-
sion to any measures hostile U) his majesty's just
rights and prerogatives, the king granting him a
sanction in writing for this evasion of the law. On
this occasion Charles conferretl upon him the title of a
baronet. In 1671 he succeeded Gilmour of Craig-
iniller as lord-president, and immediately availed
himself of the situation to effect some important
improvements in the system of judicature. He also,
at this time, employed his leisure hours in recording
the decisions of the court. As a member of the
privy council he was invariably the advocate, though
not always successfully, of moderate measures, and
he remonstrated as warmly as he durst against all
who were of an opposite character. \\ hen tlv;
celebrated test-oath was under consideration, in
16S1, Dalrymple, for the purj^ose of confounding it
altogether, suggested that John Knox's confession
of faith should be sworn to as part of it. As this
inculcated resistance to tyranny as a duty, he th<jught
it would counterbalance the abjuration of that maxim
contained in another part of the oath. The dis-
crepancy passed unobserved, for not a bishop in
parliament was so far ac<iuainted with ecclesiasticr.l
history as to know the contents of that confes>ior..
However, inconsistent as it was, it was firced by
the government down the throats of all pers^jns in
office, and thus became the occasifui of much mi--
chief Lord Stair himself refused to take it. and
accordingly had to retire from his otTices. I'.efore
this period he had prepared his celebrated wcjik,
T/ie Iiislttutsous of the Laiu of SootlaiiJ, which w.->
now published. This work still continues to be the
gran<l text-book of the Scottish lawyer. "It is not
without cause,'" says Mr. Lrodie, in a late etlitior,
"that the profound and luminous disquisitions <\
Lord Stair have commanded the general aihnir.itiou
of Scottish lawyers. Having broUL^ht to the stuiiy
of jurisprudence a powerful and highly ci:iii\;''.tc I
intellect, he was qualified to trace every rule t'l ] rir.-
cii)le. Vet such was his sterling ] ractiLal K" ' 1
sense, that he rarely alh >\\ed h;ni~eh' to be c.irrit'.
away by theory — too frequently the fa;l;ng ot phi! -
so])hic inind.s less endowed with this ean'.;i',-! v;ni;r.
His ])hilosojihy and learning h.ive enal'.-.'i l.;ni t >
enrich jurisjirudence \\ith a work \\l:'<,ti. in <. :;;1' oav-
ing the rules of law, eli.iily dcvtli j.^ tne giou: I
on which they are t'ouniied."

Lord Stair lived fir niior.t a yc.-;r at !.>_ co-jr.trv
seat in \ViL;ti >n-h;re, ln:t exj'cr.L;. .:::.-: iir-xa i<.r-t-
cution from the gov.Mi;-.;i r;t. f ui.i 1: lu <.L--.-iry. ;:i
Octoiier, 16S2. to take rcUi^c ir. 1 lo;!.;r..l. In 1:,^
absence he wa> accu~e>! of In^li irc.-.~-n. on t!;-,-
grot;nd> that some of h> ;. :;;iv.:- L.-'I beer. cr.CLrni '.
in t!ie insurrection at r.ot!;\v> '.'. bi '.:e. .\'\ ::.:•■ \\\\\.
however, whieh w.i- male to,/.;,-;!; a ^nretiovr . t .
his jerboa ix'.wx \\'Xx\:\, ] rovci aL.Ttiv.. ! : .u

434

JAMES DALRYMPLE JOHN DALRYMPLE.

his retirement at Leyden he sent forth his Decisions,
ihrough tlie medium of the press at Edinburgh, the
first vohime appearing in 1684, and the second in
16S7. In 1686 he pubHshed at Leyden a Latin trea-
tise of much originaHty, under the title oi Physiologia
Nofa Experivwiitalis. He also busied himself at
this time in a work respecting the mutual obligations
of the sovereign and his people, on which subject he
entertained more liberal opinions than what were
generally received in that age. This work, however,
was never published. When the I'rince of Orange
was about to sail for Britain, Lord Stair requested to
know what was the object of his expedition. The
l>rince replied that it was not personal aggrandize-
ment, but "the glory of God, and the security of the
Protestant religion, then in imminent danger." The
reply of Lord Stair was a strange mixture of the sub-
lime and ludicrous. Taking off his wig, and exhibit-
ing his bald head, he said, "Though 1 be now in the
seventieth year of my age, I am willing to venture
that (pointing to his head), my own and my children's
fortune, in such an undertaking." He accordingly
accompanied the prince, and was rewarded, after the
settlement of affairs under William and Mary, with
a reappointment to the presidency of the Court of
Session, and a peerage under the title of Viscount
Stair. Though thus restored to his country, and to
more than his former honours, the latter years of this
great man were not happy. He had never been the
friend of the high-church party, and therefore he
could expect no favour from that class of malcontents
under the Revolution settlement. But the Presby-
terian party, also, for which he had done and suffered
so much, treated him with little respect, considering
him too deeply concerned in the late oppressive and
cruel system to be worthy of their confidence. Under
these circumstances he breathed his last on the 25th
of November, 1695, in the seventy-seventh year of
liis age, and was buried in the High Church of
Edinburgh.

Lord Stair had been married, in 1643, to Margaret
Ross, co-heiress of the estate of Balneil, in Wigton-
shire, by whom he had five sons and four daughters.
The eldest son, John, having held office under James
TL, was, like his father, held in suspicion by the
Presbyterian party; but, nevertheless, attained high
office under the Revolution government. He was
secretary of state for Scotland, and elevated to the
rank of Earl of Stair in 1703. On his death, in
1707, he was succeeded in his title by the celebrated
ominandcr and diplomatist, John, second Earl of
Stair. The junior branches of the family have pro-
duced fruit almost equally distinguished. Sir James
JJalrymple, the second son, was himself the author
of Collar lions foiiccrnin^:; Scottish History frcccdi7i[^
the Death of Dai-id I., which a]ipcared in 1 705, and
the grandfather of .Sir John Dalrymple, of Cranston,
larLJior of that excellent work, Memoirs of Great
Britain and Ireland, from the Dissoliitio)i of the Last
J'arliament of Charles J I., until the Sea Battle off
La LLr^iee, in two volumes 4I0. The youngest son,
.^ir David, was the grandfather of Lord Hailes and
Alexander Dalrymi)le, two ])ersons already com-
memorated in this work. Tiirough these cliannels,
and by the alliances of his daughters, the bl'iod of
Lord Stair now flows in most of the noble finiili'-s
in Scotland. The historical eminence of the family
is only to be paralleled by the immense influence
wliich it po<;sessed for many years m this countrym-
an influence hardly matched by that of the Dundashcs
in later times. '

^Vc f)-c'i';rve, fortjro

cry's sake, the folIowitiE easy rhymes
father of Jan-.es Boiwell, iibcd tu

DALRYMPLE, John, second Earl of Stair, was
the second son of the first earl, and the grandson of
subject of the preceding memoir. He was born at
Edinburgh, July 20, 1673, and, while yet a mere
boy, had the misfortune to kill his elder brother by
the accidental discharge of a pistol. Although a
royal remission was procured for this offence, his
parents found it necessary for their own comfort to
banish him from their sight, as his presence awakened
the most painful associations. He was therefore
placed for some years under the chaj-ge of a clerg)--
man in Ayrshire — a humane and sensible man, who
soon i^erceived the excellent qualities of his pupil's
character. Under the charge of this person he became
a proficient scholar, and in the course of time, through
a series of favourable reports to his parents, he had
the satisfaction of seeing the young exile restored to
the bosom of his family, of which he was destined to
be the principal ornament. The more advanced
parts of his education he received at Leyden, where
he was reputed one of the best scholars in the univer-
sity, and subsequently at the college of his native
city. His first appearance in life was as a volunteer
under the Earl of Angus, commander of the Came-
ronian regiment at the battle of Steinkirk, in August,
1692, being then nineteen years of age. For some
years afterwards he devoted himself at Leyden to the
studyof that profession in which two preceding genera-
tions of his family had already gained so much dis-
tinction. But on returning in 1701 from his Conti-
nental travels, he accepted a commission as lieutenant-
colonel of the Scottish regiment of foot-guards. In
the succeeding year he served as aide-de-camp to the
Duke of Marlborough at the taking of \'enlo and
Liege, and the attack on Peer. In the course of
1706 he successively obtained the command of the
Cameronian regiment and the Scots Greys. His
father dying suddenly, Januaiy 8, 1 707, he succeeded
to the family titles, and was next month chosen one
of the Scottish re])resentative peers in the first British
parliament. In the subsequent victories of Marl-
borough, Oudenarde, jNIalplaquet, and Ramilies, the
Earl of Stair held high command, and gained great
distinction. But the accession of the 'lory ministry
in 171 1, while it stopped the glorious career of Marl-
borough, also put a check upon his services. He
found it necessary to sell his command of the Scots
Greys and retire from the army.

As one who had thus suffered in the behalf of the
Protestant succession, the earl was entitled to some
consideration, when that was secured by the acces-
sion of George I. He \Nas, on that occasion, aji-
pointed to be a lord of the bed-chamber, and a jiriv-.-
councillor, and constituted commander-in-chief of
the forces in .Scotland, in the absence of the r)ukf
of Argyle. Next year he was sent as ambassador to
Prance, with the difficult task of conciliating the
government of the Dulcc of Orleans to the ne\v
dynasty of Britain. It is a]lowc<l on all hands that
his lordship conducted this business with unexam])led
address and dignity, his dijilomatic skill being only
equalled by the external splendours of his cortege.
Unfortunately his usefulness was destroyed in I 719,
by the Mississip])i enthusiasm. His lordshi]") could
not stoo]) to flatter his countryman Mr. La-w, ihcn
coni])trol](jr-general of the Lrench finances, l)ul \\honi.

reif'.at, :is (le-~criptivc of tlic surcessi-ni of jired'iii.in.itiiij^ iiinu-

ences in Sci>tlMiid during the last century: —

" I'lrst cam tlic men o' mony wimple::,
In common language ca'd D.a'rumples,
And after them cam the Dundasses,
W'lia raidc our lords and lairds like asses."

A quatrain, it must be confessed, more true than respectful,

altlioti'^h. in hoth eases alike, the prcdjr.iinance was grounded

on inherent family talent.

SIR JOHN GRAHAM DALVKI.L

433

he proliably recollected as a somewliat disreputable
adventurer on the streets of Edinburgh. The Hritish
government, finding that the hostility of this power-
ful person injured their interests, found it necessary —
if a mean action can ever be necessary— to recal tlie
Earl of Stair, notwithstanding their high sense of his
meritorious services. He returned to his native
country in 1 720, and for the next twenty-two years
lived in retirement at his beautiful seat of Newli.ston,
near Edinburgh, where he is said to have planted
several groups of trees in a manner designed to re-
jiresent tiie arrangement of the Hritish troops at one
of Marlborough's victories. He also turned his
mind to agriculture, a science then just beginning to
be a little understood in Scotland, and it is a well-
attested fact that he was the first in this country to
plant turnips and cabbages in the open fields. On
the dissolution of the Walpolc administration in
1742, his lordship was called by the king from his
retirement, appointed field-marshal, and sent as
ambassador and plenipotentiary to Holland. He
was almost at the same time nominated to the govern-
ment of Minorca. In the same year he was sent to
take the supreme command of the army in Flanders,
which he held till the king himself arrived to put
himself at the head of the troops. His lordshi])
served under the king at the battle of Dettingen,
June 16, 1743; but, to use the indignant language of
Lord Westmoreland, in alluding to the case in par-
lament, he was reduced to the condition of a statue
witli a truncheon in its hand, in consequence of tiie
]ireference shown by his majesty for the Hanoverian
officers. Finding himself at once in a highly re-
sponsible situation, and yet disabled to act as a free
p.gent, he resigned his command. France, taking
a Ivantage of the distraction of the Hritish councils
r_'s]iecting the partialityof his majesty for Hanoverian
councils, next year threatened an invasion; and the
llarl of .Stair came spontaneously forward, and, on
mere grounds of patriotism, offered to serve in any
station. He was now appointed commander-in-chief
of the forces in Great Jkitain. In the succeeding year
his brother-in-law. Sir James Camjibell, being killed
at the battle of Fontenoy, the earl was appointed his
successor in the colonelcy of the Scots Greys, a
command he had baen deprived of thirty-one years
before by Queen Anne. His last apjiointment was
to the command of the marine forces, in May, 1746.
His lordship died at Queensberry 1 louse, Edinburgh,
on the 9th of May, 1747, and was buried with public
honours in the church at Kirkliston. It is matter of
ia^t surjirise that no monument has ever l)cen erected
to this most accomplished anil patriotic nobleman —
neither by the public, which was s(; much indebted
1 1 him. nor by his own family, which derives such
l.i^tio from his common name. His lonl>hip left a
widow without chiKlren ; namely, Eady I-^Ieanor
Campliel!, grand-daughter of the Lord -chancellor
l.oiidnm. and who had previously been married to
t!io \'i--counl Primrose.

DALYELL. Sir J..un Gkaiiam, Bart. This
acconijilished student and expo>itor of Scottish anti-
fpiarianism, like many who are devoted to that
science, was the descendant of an ancient family of
historical n.'te, being the >econd ^<<n of Sir Robert,
the f)urth baronet of lliniis, Linlithgowshire, wiiile
liis mother, I'.li/aheth (iraham, was of the family of
(iartmore, and C'ln^equently a de-cendant of the
"great marquis.'' He wa- born in 1777. I'-'ng
devoted to more peacoiul | iirsiiits than hi- renowned
ancestors, he studied for ilie Scoiti-h bar. and was
admitted a member of the Faculty of Advocates in
1707. His favourite occupation, however, instead of

inclining to that of a barrister on the lx>ards of the
Parliament House, was to keep aloof from the din of
wordy war, an<l take refuge among the cr)pts of the
Advocates' Library, absorbed in the study of that
valuable collection of MSS. connected with Scottish
history and antiquities for which the hbrary is so dis-
tinguished. The fruit of this was soon apparent;
for two years had not elapsed after his enrolment as
an advocate when he produced his fir-t work in
quarto, entitled I-nv^mcnts 0/ Scottish JI. story, con-
taining, among other valuable matter, the '•r)iary of
Robert I5irrell, burgess of Edinburgh, from 153210
1608." Little more than two years aftcrwar<ls (in
1801), he published, in two volumes octavo, a ColUc-
tion of Scottish Poems 0/ the Sixteenth Century. Of
the labour he underwent in the task, and the dili-
gence with which he discharged it, an estimate may
be formed from the fact, that in preparing ihi- collec-
tion he had examined about 700 volumes of manu-
scripts. iS'one, however, but those who .-re conver-
sant with this kind of literature can be fully aware of
its difficulties, owing to the loose manner in which
the .Scottish poems of this period were transcribed,
and the variety of readings, as well as amount of in-
terpolated nonsense with which they are di>figurei!.
For these two works he found a fitting publisher in
Mr. .Archibald Constable, at that time an anti<juarian,
and the friend of anticpiarians, whose old-boiA shop
at the Cross was the favourite haunt of tho-e distin-
guished men by whose publications he afterwards
became a prince in the realms of literature.

The next work of Mr. Graham Dalyell was a
7'ract chiejly reldtir'e to Afonnstic y1 ntii/uities, '.cith
some Accoioit of a Recent Search for the Remains cj the
Scottish A'i/rj^s interred in the Abbey of Dunfermline.
This work, which appearcfl in 1S09, was the first iA
a scries of four or five thin octavos, illustrative of our
.Scottish ecclesiastical records, which he issued at
various intervals; and the chartularies wliich he
severally illustrated were those of the bishoprics of
.\berleen and Murray, th.e abbey of Cand)i:skenneih.
the cha]-iel-royal of Stirling, and the [Te:c]'ti iP.- of
St. .-VnthiMiy at Leith — the series havir.g tieen carried
on till 1S2S. I'ut tliis was not his only occuj atiun,
as during the long interval he published an e<;i;i'>n <f
the Journal of Richard Rannatyne, the secret.iry and
amanuensis of Joim Knox; and another, ot tiie .S'.'i'-
tish Chronicle of Lindsay of Pilscottic. \\\ way (t
literary divertisement nmid-t these l.diour- in our
national antiipiities, Mr. Dalycll also p-uMi-hed. in
iSll, .S'<v;/<- Account cf an Amcicnt Manuccn/! cj
MarliaPs R.fi.^i-ams. which was illustrated by an ei;-
graving. and anecdotes ex]ilanatory of the manners
and customs of the Roman-. ( >f these only thirty
copies were printeil. six of them being on \e;Iui;!.

A ni'jre important work tlian any of the ] receiing.
and re(piir;ng a larger ani'Dunt ol original t'r. ■■,^'.t .t-
well as wider re-earch, was pulili-lied by Mr. 1 '.--!> i '.'.
in 1S34, under the title of .-.';/ Rc-ay c: !'. ■ /'.■• ". ■
Suf^ersiitions of Scotland. Sucli a title -r.tV:^ :•,■: : !y i:,; ;-
mates not only the extent of reading it re :-:::i iair.-r.g
books the most trying ti.i the ] a'.:er...e "t ?. i.;.;^-<.ii:
investigator, but also ir.to tiio-e de; ■:!.- "i ;■:'.•■ w :;ere
he was conqieUed to gM;e. in I'r.e \nc\~: < :' •■•.ikr.t--
and doul)t, wliile he traced o;;r ;:a"; ■: ,;. -v-; ■ ;-;;;:o:.>
to tlieir ]'riniili\e b.^ine- i:i tl.e !■:•■-•- ■! 1 1. : ::ir.i^} .
upon tlie sh^re- .^f N ■:■^va^■. -r ev - :!;.■ i;v :v .;>:-:;al
aU'l uuKnow II w;i' 1> ' ■; >i--. ' .i a. 1 .:■ ...-. •'■ . .-. \- .,.i..i
he pul>lidi'/d wa- ;!..■ M.' .'•'•' .'/'■■•■.'• •' •■■ ' ■''■■■
d'liis a;MH-arel in 1S50. when h- u -- r-v :nj.>
seventv-thirl vear: ]'■:: tl:e v;\a.-;-y . 1 -•;.:■.■ :•:. w:;--.h

It is wr,:;e:i. a;,!
d..tcs Willi wl:ie::
indicatioTis eil'.ier

.thv et

43(5

THOMAS DALYELL.

old age. The work possesses also the additional
recommendation of a splendid quarto form and many
excellent engravings, for he was not only an ardent
lover of music, but a thorough judge of it as a science,
and through life he had always affectionately turned
to it as a relief from his more severe occupations.

Besides those literary productions we have men-
tioned, comprising an authorship of fifty years' dura-
tion, Mr. Graham Dalyell pubVmhed 0/>serz'at/o)/s on
some InUrcsting Phenomena in Ani?nal P/iysioloi^y,
exhibited by Several Species of Planaritc, 8vo, 1814.
Another work, which he published in 1847, in t^^'t>
splendid quartos, enriclied with more than a hundred
coloured ])lates drawn from the living subjects, was
entitled. Pare and Pentarkable Animals of Scotland,
represented from Living Subjects, zuith Practical Obser-
vations on their Nature. He was also the author of
several articles in the Encyclopedia Pritannica.

From the foregoing brief notice some estimate may
be formed of the literary character of Mr. Dalyell.
An antiquary at a time when Scottish antiquarianism
was little cultivated, his labours as well as his ex-
ample gave a powerful impulse to that study, which
soon became so widely difTused, and has been pro-
ductive of such happy results. It is owing, indeed,
to this spirit of inquiry that few histories of nations
have been more effectiwlly cleared from darkness,
and purified from error, than that of .Scotland, al-
though few have undergone such a cruel process as
that which was devised to anniliilate it. But Mr.
Dalyell was something more than an antiquary, al-
though he stood in the front rank of the order; he
was also an accomplished classical scholar, and well
acquainted with mechanical science and natural his-
tory, of which his writings are an abundant proof.
Although as an author he was so prolific, his dili-
gence and perseverance are the more to be admired
when we remember tliat such was his fastidiousness
in composition, that lie would seldom commit his
manuscript to the press until it had been re-written
four or five times over.

."^ir John Graham Dalyell received the honour of
knighthood by patent in 1836, and succeeded to the
baronetcy of Binns by the death of his elder brotlier
in 1S41. His own death occurred on the 7th of
June, 1 85 1. As he was never married, he was suc-
ceeded in his title and estates by his brother, Sir
William Cunningham Cavendish Dalyell, com-
mander in the royal navy.

DALYELL, Thomas, an eminent cavalier officer,
was tile son of Thomas Dalyell, of Binns, in West
Lothian, whom he succeeded in that projierty. The
lairds of Binns are understood to have been descended
from the family afterwards ennoljled under the title of
Earl of Carnwath. The mother of tlie sul)ject of this
memoir was the Honourable [anet Bruce, daughter
of the first Lord Bruce of Kinloss, a distinguished
minister of James \'I., and who, with tlie ICarl of
Marr, was chiefly instrumental in securing the suc-
cession of that monarch to the I-".nglish crown.
Tiiomas Dalyell, who is said to have been l)orn
about the year 1599, entered the service of Charles I.,
and had at one time the command of the town and
garrison of Carrickfergus, where he was taken i)ri-
soner by the rebels. He was so much attached to
his master that, to testify his grief for his death, he
never afterwards shaved his beard. In tlie army
which Charles II. led from .Scotland, in 165 1, he had
the rank of major-general, in whicii ca])acity he
fought at the battle of Worcester. Being tlierc
taken prisoner, he was committed to the Tower, and
liis estates were forfeited, and he was himself exempted
from the general act of indemnity. However, he made

his escape, and seems to have gone abroad, whence
he returned, and landed with some royalists in the
north of Scotland, in March, 1654. Supported by
a small party, he took possession of the castle of
Skelko, and assisted in the exertions then made for
the restoration of Charles, who soon afterwards
transmitted the following testimony of his approba-
tion:—

"Tom Dalyell,

Though I need say nothing to
you by this honest bearer. Captain Mewes, who can
well tell you all I would have said, yett I am willing
to give it you under my own hand, that I am very
much pleased to hear how constant you are in your
affection to me, and in your endeavours to advance
my service. We have all a harde work to do : yett
I doubt not God will carry us through it: and you
can never doubt [fear] that I will forgett the good
part you have acted; which, trust me, shall be re-
warded whenever it shall be in the power of your
affectionat frind, CUARLKS R.

"Colen, 30th Dec. 1654."

All hope of an immediate restoration being soon
after abandoned, Dalyell obtained recommendations
from his majesty for eminent courage and fidelity,
and proceeded to Russia, then an almost barbarous
country, where he offered his services to the reigning
czar, Alexis Michaelovvitch. He seems to have
entered the Muscovite service as a lieutenant-general,
but soon was elevated to the rank of general. In
these high commands he fought bravely against the
Turks and Tartars. After active employment for
several years, General Dalyell requested permission
to return to Scotland, whereupon the czar ordered a
strong testimony of his services to pass under the
great seal of Russia. Part of this document was
conceived in the following tenns :

"That he formerly came hither to serve our great
czarian majesty : whilst he was with us he stood
against our enemies and fought valiantly. The
military men that were under his command he regu-
lated and disciplined, and himself led them to battle;
and he did and performed everything faitlifully, as a
noble commander. And for his trusty services wc
were pleased to order the said lieutenant-general to
be a general. And now having petitioned us to
give him leave to return to his own country, we, the
great sovereign and czarian majesty, were ])leased
to order that the said noble general, wdio is worthy
of all honour, Thomas, tlie son of Thomas Dalyell,
should have leave to go into his own country. And
by this j^atent of our czarian majesty we do testify of
him tliat he is a man of virtue and honour, and of
great experience in military affairs. And in case he
should l)e willing again to serve our czarian majesty,
he is to let us know of it beforehanil, and he shall
come into the dominions of our czarian majesty with
our safe passports, &c. (jiven at our court, in the
metropolitan city of Musc<jw, in the year from the
creation of the world, 7173, January 6."

On his return to Scotland Charles II. manifested a
belter sense of his ]iromises towards him than was
customary with tiiat monarch. "Tom Dalyell" was
a])pointed commander-in-chief of the forces and a
]>rivy-counciIlor, in 1666; subsequently, he repre-
sented the county of Linlithgow in jiarliament, liis
estates being now restored. In the year just mcii-
tioncfl. General Dalyell suppressed the ili-starre I
insurrection of tlie Covenanters. By a bold mareli
across tlie Penlland Hills, he came u]ion the insur-
gents I)y surprise, and, on the evening of the 2Stli of
November, gained a complete victory over them.
In this year, also, he raised a regiment of foot; but
its }ilace in the military lists is not now known. It

THOMAS DALYELL —

is known, however, with historic certainty, that some
years afterwards he raised the distinjpiished horse
regiment called the Scots Greys, which was at first
composed exclusively of the sons of the cavalier
gentry, and was intended to keep down the sturdy
children of the covenant. The letters of service for
raising the Greys are dated the 25th of November,
1681. The commission of General Dalyell was
intermitted for a fortnight in June, 1679, when tiie
Duke of Monmouth was intrusted with his office, in
order to put down the Bothwell Bridge insurrection.
It was generally believed that, if he had commanded
at Bothwell instead of Monmouth, there would have
been sharper execution upon the insurgents. Being
olTended at the promotion of Monmouth, the old man
resigned all his employments, but was quickly re-
stored to them, and an ample pension besides. Some
years before this period he had received a gift of the
forfeited estate of Muir of Caldwell, who was con-
cerned in the insurrection suppressed by him in 1666;
but his family complain tliat they were deprived of
this by the reversal of Muir's attainder after the
Revolution, and that they never received any other
compensation for an immense sum expendeJ by their
ancestor in the public service.

An individual who rode in Dalyell's army, has left
the following graphic account of him: — ■

"He was bred up very hardy from his youth, both
in diet and clothing. He never wore boots, nor
above one coat, which was close to his body, with
close sleeves, like those we call jockey coats. He
never wore a peruke, nor did he shave his beard
.-ince the murder of King Charles the First. In my
time his head was bald, which he covered only with
a beaver hat, the brim of which was not above three
inches broad. His beard was white and bushy, and
yet reached down almost to his girdle.' He usually
went to London once or twice in a year, and then
only to kiss the king's hand, who had a great esteem
for his worth and valour. His unusual dress and
figure when he was in London, never failed to draw
after him a great crowd of boys and other young
]ieople, who constantly attended at his lodgings, and
followed him with huzzas as he went to court or
returned from it. As he was a man of humour, he
v.ould always thank them for their civilities, when
he left them at the door to go in to the king, and
^vould let them know exactly at wliat hour he in-
tended to come out again and return to his lodgings.
\Vhen the king walker! in the park, attended by
s )me of his courtiers, and Dalyell in his company,
the same crowds would always be after him, showing
tlieir admiration at his beard and dress, so that the
king could hardly pass on for the crowd; upon which
his majesty bid the devil take Dalyell, for bringing
such a ral)ble of boys together, to have their guts
S'lueezed out, whilst they gaped at his long beard
and antic habit; requesting him at the same time (as
D.ilyell used to expre--.s it) to shave and dress like
other Christians, to keep the poor bairns out of
(Linger. .Ml tliis could never jirevail upon him to
]iart with his beard; but yet, in comjiliance to his
majesty, he went once t'j court in tlie very height of
f.i>hion; but as sof>n as the king and those about
him had laughed sufficiently at the strange figure he
made, he reassumeti his usual habit, to tlie great jov
of the boys, wlio had not discovered him in his
fashionable dress" [Mt'n.uis 0/ Cii/!ii:n Ci\-:l/i!oh,
by Swift).

ANDREW DALZELL.

437

1 The comb wnh wt
person is still preserve

u;h lie ;:-e'! t" dre^s thi-- ornnment of his
A .It lluuis. It ^ivcs .1 v.i^t uica of the
extent of the lieard. anl of the niAJe^tic character if I'alyell
i'l a-ti^f.'^l — hein.; no less than twelve inches bruaj, while the
leeth are at le.l^t si.\ inches deep.

On the accession of James VTI. in 1685, Dalyell
received a new and enlarged commission to l)e
commander-in-chief; but the tendency of the court
to I'o|)ery offended his conscience so grievously, that
it is not probable he could have long retained the
situation. Death, h<jwever, stepped in, and "res-
cued him," to use Creichton's language, "from the
difficulties he was likely to Ix; under, between the
notions he had of duty to his prince on one side, and
true zeal for his religion on the other." He died
about Michaelmas, 16S5. A contemporary historian
informs us that, "after he had i>rocured himself a
lasting name in the wars, he fixed his old age at
Binns, his ))aternal inhcrit.ance, adorned by his ex-
cellence with avenues, large parks, and fine'gardens,
and pleased himself with the culture of curious
flowers and plants." His estate was inherited by a
son of the same name, who was created a baronet of
Nova Scotia, and was succeeded by a daughter
Magdalene, who, marrying James Menteilh of
Auldcathy, transmitted the property and title to her
son, .Sir James Mentcith Dalyell, ancestor of the
present representative. Through this alliance the
family now claims to represent the old line of the
Earls of Menteith.

General Dalyell, as might be expected, is rcpre-
senteti by the Presbyterian histf)rians as "a man
naturally rude and fierce, who had this heightened
by his breeding and service in Muscovy, where he
had seen little but the utmost tyranny and slaver)-."
There are two ways, however, of contemplating the
character of even so blood-stained a persecutor as
Dalyell. He had, it must be remarked, served
royalty upon principle in its worst days; had seen a
monarch beheaded by a small party of his rebellious
subjects, and a great part of the community, in-
cluding himself, deiirived of their property, and
obliged to flee for their lives to foreign lands; and
all this was on account of one particular way of
viewing politics and religion. When the u-ual
authorities of the land regained their ascendency,
Dalyell must naturally have l)een disposed to ji-.siify
and support very severe mea-ures, in order to prevent
the recurrence of such a period as the civil war and
usurpation. Thus all his cnielties are re~(dve i into
an abstract principle, to the relief of his ; cr-"r..il
character, which otherwise, we do not doubt, might
comparatively be gooil. How often do we see, e\eii
in modern times, actions justified upon general views,
which would be shuddered at if they st'iod upon
their naked merits, and were to be performed upon
the sole responsibility of the individual I

DALZELL, Andrew, A.M. and F.K.S., wps

born in the year 1750, at a farmhouse in the paii-li
of Katho, near Edinburgh, the sou of an iiidu-ni' r-
luisl)andnian. He acquired the jnincij I'cs oi !;:>
classical education at the ]iarochial scb.- ■'■ 'f the
jiarish ; from thence h.e went to tlie r,:oVc:-:;y .f
l-'.dinluirgh. There, by his a^-iduity and t;;c g' i.tlc-
ness an<l ])urity of his manners and coii ;;;t:. l.c ac-
(juired the esteem of tlie ]irori.-~< us. .";i i. :;'■ ^ "-^-
(pience of their liigh recominendati^ :;. \'-.-- '\ \ ■.:■'(.•!
tutor to Lord Maitland, at'ieruard- \.:.u
dale. He attended Lord Mai;l.-.nd !■■ ;:
of (ilasgow. where he a-i-ted !;;:n in i.;-
with him hearl the cele!'r.-:ed !';■■ re-- •
liver a course of li;- r.'.ri lie.! K\t;;:\-.
comjianied hi^ i'''''I'''l '^''' ''■'o''~- ••^' ■^^•'■'~ "'
home recommen'.ed. .-:;d il;r--,:_;h ;!'.e \v.',
Lauderdale fani:lv. .a;-' 'ir.te i !■> -■.■.ccce :
as proies-or of (ireek in iiie univei ~:;y . f
Classical learnin,; ha i f.iilen i:;t 1 gre.:;
Ldinbur-li when .Mr. Da'.ze'.: .----amed 1:

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43S

ANDREW DALZELL

DAVID I.

while Professor Moore, one of the most profound
and accurate scholars of the age, was raising the
celebrity of the Glasgow university by his teaching
of the Greek language, and while the Foulises were
printing in their press at that city their beautiful
editions of the Greek classics, the literati of the Scot-
tish capital were dedicating their whole attention to
the cultivation of English and French literature. It
became therefore the anxious desire of Professor Dal-
zell to revive the taste for ancient learning. To pro-
mote this object he delivered a course of lectures on
the language, history, eloquence, philosojihy, poetry,
literature, antiquities, and fine arts of the Greeks.
Possessed of a perfect knowledge of the subject, these
lectures were admirable for their systematic arrange-
ment and the elegance of the language in which they
were clothed; and being delivered in a distinct tone,
with much suavity of manner, they caused a general
and enthusiastic study of the language. Indeed, it
became a sort of fashion of the students of the uni-
versity to attend his lectures, and the celebrity he ac-
quired had the etTect of drawing many students to
Edinburgh from England and from distant parts of
the kingdom. In order still farther to increase that
enthusiastic love of Grecian literature which he wished
to instil into the minds of his pupils, he published
several volumes of collections of select passages from
the Greek writers. These he accompanied with
short Latin notes, which are remarkable for their
perspicuity and judgment, and for the classical purity
of their language. The unremitting care which he
bestowed on the improvement of his students was
repaid by them with the most affectionate respect;
nor did the interest he felt in them terminate with
the discharge of his academical duties, for he exerted
himself to the utmost in promoting their future wel-
fare, and to him hundreds owed their establishment
in life. But although he was thus eminently suc-
cessful in reviving the love of ancient literature in
Edinburgh, it was often a subject of deep regret to
him that his influence over the minds of his pupils
was only transitory, and that when he happened to
meet them in after-life he almost invariably found
that they had neglected their classical studies. Such,
it is much to be feared, must ever be tlie case, the
prosecution of ancient learning being, generally
speaking, incompatible with the struggle and bustle
of the world. The only satisfaction which remains
i-;, that the deficiency is daily becoming less import-
ant in the increasing beauty and copiousness of
mo'ljrn, more especially of English, literature.

(Jii the death of Dr. James Robertson, j^rofessor
of oriental languages, Mr. Dalzell was appointed to
succeed him as keeper of the library of the university.
He was afterwards chosen to succeed the Rev. Dr.
John Drysdale as princijial clerk to the General As-
seml)ly of the Church of Scotland, Ijcing the first lay-
man who had ever held that honourable ai)]iointment.
For some time bcf;re his death the delicate state of
his health prevented him from performing his ])ublic
duties, when his place was al)ly supjilied by Dr.
Thomas Macknight, one of the city clergymen of
Edinburgh. He died on the 8th December, l8o6,
having for upwards of thirty years shed a lustre on
tiie university by his many virtues, his high talent'^,
and great classical attainments. Remarkable for
many amiable qualities, and endowed with rich in-
tellectual qualities, it may easily be supposed that
his society was the delight of his friends; and as he
had the good fortune to live during one of the
brightest periods of Scottish literary hi-,tory, when a
galaxy of great men adorned the society of Edinburgh,
he included in the circle of his acquaintance many
of tlie greatest men this country ever produced. Uf

the number of his intimate friends were Dr. Gilbert
Stewart, Dr. Russel the historian. Sir Robert Listen,
Dr. Robertson the historian, Lord Monboddo, Dugald
Stewart, and Professor Christison. Mr. Dalzell in
stature was about the middle height; his features
were full, but not heavy, with a fair complexion and
a mild and serene expression of countenance. His
address was pleasing and unpretending, and his con-
versation and manner singidarly graceful. He was
frequently to be met in his solitary walks in the
King's Park, which was one of his favourite lounges.
He was married to the daughter of the well-known
Dr. John Drysdale of the Tron Church, and left
several children.

His works consist of the collections from Greek
authors, which he published in several volumes,
under the title of Collectanea Minora, and Collec-
tanea Mcijora, a translation of Chevalier's description
of the Plain of Troy, and many valuable papers of
biography, an<l on other subjects, which he contri-
buted to the Edinburgh Royal Society's Transactions.
He also edited Dr. Drysdale's sermons.

DAVID I., a celebrated Scottish monarch, w.ns
the youngest of the six sons of Malcolm HI., v/ho
reigned between 1057 and 1093, and who must lie
familiar to every reader as the overthrower of Macbeth,
and also the first king of the Scots that was entitled
to be considered as a civilized prince. The mother
of King David was Margaret, the sister of Edgar
Atheling, heir to the Saxon line of English princes,
but displaced by William the Conqueror. The year
of David's birth is not known; but it is conjectured
to have been not long antecedent to the death of his
father, as all his elder brothers were then under age.
It is conjectured that he must have received the name
of David from having been born at a time when his
mother had no hope of more children, in reference to
the youngest son of Jesse. Owing to the usurpations
of Donald Bane and Duncan, he spent his early
years at the English court, under the protection of
Henry I., who had married his sister Matilda or
Maud, the celebrated founder of London Bridge.
There, according to an English historian, "his
manners were polished from the rust of Scottish bar-
barity." Here also he took to wife Matilda, the
daughter of Waltheof, Earl of Norlhuml)erland, and
widow of Simon de .St. Liz, Earl of Northampton.
After the Scottish throne had been occupied s^ue-
cessively by his elder brothers Edgar and Alexander,
he acceded to it on the 27th of April, 1 124, when
he must have been in the very prime of life. Soon
before this time, namely, in 11 13, he had manifested
that zeal for the church which distinguished hitu
through(Hit his reign, by bringing a colony of Bene-
dictine moidvs from Tyron, in France, whom he
settled at Selkirk. These he subsequently translated
to Roxburgh, and finally, 1 128, to Kelso. In t! e
latter year, besides founding the magnificent monas-
tery of Kelso, he erected that of Ilolyrood at Iviin-
burgh, which he endiAved in the most liberal manner.

During the reign of Henry I. David maintained
a good understanding with I'mgland, and seems to
have spent a consideralole part of his time in the
court of his brother-in-law and sister. The following
curious anecdote of one of his visits is related in a
volume entitled A'et>taincs concernin;^ Jiriiani, ])uh-
lishi;d in 1614. "Queen Maud was so devoutly re-
ligious that she would go to church barefooted, and
always exercised herself in works of charity, insomuch
that, when King David, her brother, came out of Scot-
land to visit her, he f(nuid her in her privy chnndxT
with atowell about her middle, wasliing, wijiing, and
kissing poore people's fecle; which he disliking, said,

DAVID I. JOHN DAVIDSON.

' Verily, if the king your husband knew this, you should
never kisse his lippes!' She replied, 'that the fecte of
the King of lieavcn were to be preferred before the
lippes of a king in earth !'" On the death of Henry,
in 1 135, his daughter Maud was displaced by the
usurper Stephen, and to enforce her right David
made a foriiiidable incursion into England, taking
possession of the country as far as Durham. Not
being supported, however, by the barons, who had
sworn to in.iintain his niece in her right, he was
obliged, by the superior force of Stephen, to give up
the country he had acquired, his son Henry accept-
ing, at the .same time, from the usurper, the honour
of Huntingtlon, with Doncaster and the castle of
Carlisle, for whicli he rendered homage. Ne.\t year
David made a new incursion, with better success.
He is found in II3S in full possession of the n(jrthern
provinces, while .Stephen was unable, from his en-
gagements elsewhere, to present any force against
him. The Scots ravaged the country with much
cruelty, and particularly the domains of the church;
nor was their pious monarch able to restrain them.
The local clergy, under these circumstances, cm-
ployed all tlieir influence, temporal and spiritual, to
collect an army, aiul they at length succeeded. On
the 22d of August, 1 138, the two parties met on
Cutton Moor, near Northallerton, and to increase the
enthusiasm of the English, their clerical leaders had
erectetl a si.indard upon a high carriage, mounted on
wiieels, exhibiting three consecrated banners, with a
little ca.-ket at the top containing a consecrated host.
The ill-assorted army of the Scottish monarch gave
way before the impetuosity of these men, who were
literally defending their altars and hcartlis. This
rencounter is known in history as the battle of the
.Standard. I'rince Henry escaped with great diffi-
culty. Next year David seems to have renounced
all hopes of establishing his niece. He entered into
a solcnm treaty with Stephen, in virtue of which the
earldom of Northumberland was conceded to his soi\
Henry. In 1 140, when .Steplien was ovcrj^owered
l)y his subjects, and Maud experienced a temporary
triumph, David repaired to London to give her the
benefit of his counsel. liut a counter insurrection
surprised .Maud; and David had great difficulty in
escaping along with his niece. He was only saved
by the kindness of a young Scotsman nanie<l Olijihant,
who sers-ed as a sohiier under .Stephen, and to whom
David had been godfather. Tiiis person concealed
the monarch from a very strict scarcli, and conveyed
him in safety to Scotland. David w.as so much
orteuded at tiie manner in which he had been treated
by Maud, that he never again interfered with her
atfairs in England, for which he had already sacri-
ficed so mueii. He was even struck with remorse
t ..r having endeavoured, by the use of so barbarous a
]K'o;)le ,i> the Scot^, to control the destinies of llie
civilized En^'lisli, to whom, it would thus appear, he
i)ore more atVjction than he did to his own native
-suljject-;. .\i one time he intended to abdicate the
crown and go into jierpetual exile in the Holy Land,
in order to expiate this imaginary guilt; l)Ut he after-
wanls conte'.iied hini-elf with attemjjting to intro-
duce civiH/aiion into his countiy. Lor iJiis purpose
he encouraged many Ijigiish gentlemen and barons
lo Settle in Scotland by giving them graiits of land.
In like manner he lirougiit many liitferent kinds of
foreign monk^ into the country, settling tiiem in the
Iro^c, Newb^'ttle, Camlnw-
irgh, and Jeiii'tirgh, a-; well
a;.,'o aivl tile (_'i-tercian coji-
.vliich Were toutiiied and en-
fieet> whicli the-e conipara-
: of men mu.-t li.ivc ; ro.iuce 1

439

upon the country ought to save David from ail
nioflcni sneers as to liis ajiparcnlly extreme piety.
Sanctimoniousnos does not ajjpear to have had
any concern in the matter: he seems to have l>cen
governed alone by a desire of civilizing his king'iom,
the rudeness of which mu^t have Ijcen strikingly ap-
paren; to him in conse<iuence of hi-, cilucation and
long residence in England. The [)rogre-.s made by
the country in the time of Davi<l wa-, accordingly
very great. I'ublic buildings were erected, town'i
cstabli-,hed, agriculture, manufacture^, and c<3mnierce
promotetl. Laws, moreover, ajjpear to have l>ecn
now promulgated for the fir>t time. David wa> him-
self a truly ju-^t and benevolent man. He u>ed to sit
on certain d.ays at the gate of hi> i)alace to hear and
decide the causes of the jjoor. Wlien ju-tice required
a decision against the poor man, he U,',k ],ain-. to ex-
plain the reason, so that he might not g(j away un-
satisfied. Gardening was one of his amu>ement>,
and hunting his chief exercise ; but, says a con-
temporary historian, I have seen him (piit hi.-> horse
and dismiss his hunting eiiuipage, when any, even
the meanest of his subjects, required an audience.
He commenced business at daybreak, and at sun.sct
dismissed his attendants and retired to meditate on
his duty to God and the people. IJy his wife
Matilda David had a son, Henry, who died before
him, leaving Malcolm and William, who were suc-
cessively kings of .Scotland; David, Earl of Hun-
tingtlon, from whom liruce and Baliol are descended,
and several daughters. L^avid I. is said, by a
monkish historian, to have had a son older thati
Henry, but who perished in childhood after a re-
markable manner. .\ person in holy oniers hal
murdereil a priest at the altar, and was protectci
by ecclesiastical immunity from the jninishinent due
to his oftence. His eyes, however, were jjut out.
and his hands and feet cut o(T. I le ]>rocured crooke<l
irons or hooks to sujiply the use of haii'ls. Thu>
maimed, destitute, and abhorred, he attracted tiie
attention of David, then residing in lingland as ,1.
private man. P'roin him this oittcast of society ob-
tained food and raiment. I >avi.;'s eldest child was
then two years old; the ungrateful monster, un-ier
pretence of findling the inlar.t, crushed it to dtath
in his iron fangs. Lor this crime, almost exceedin ;
lielief he was l^jrn to pieces by wild lv)r-es. ( 1.;
l(.)sing his son Henry, in 1152, King I lavid sent hi-
son .^lalcolnl on a solemn pro^-re-s throv.gh the kir.-,-
d'jin, in onier that he nngh.t be acknow le'iged 1>\-
the people as their future sovereign. He in like
manner recommer.ilcii Ins grands, n William to th. ■
barons of Northumberland as liis s'.;cce--or in th.v.
part of his dominion^. Ha\ing ultimately fixed i.i.
residence at Carli-Ie, the jinis ir.otiaruh breathe!
his last, May 24th, 115;,; being found dead in .■.
posture of devotion. Da\iil 1., by th.e ack!.ou'-_ ^-
ment of I'uchanan himself", was '"a more perkv; 1 \-
emplar of a ;Vr(/ /-/V/.,' tluin is to be fo-.;;id in a.l tl.j
theories of the learned and inge;'.:-''.;-. '

DAVIDSON, John, an cmitient i]W\:w. v:.
born, we may su};",>e, s<'nie ttine a ..: '■...: }..'v

various

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440

JOHN DAVIDSON.

1550, as he was enrolled a student of St. Leonard's
College, in the university of St. Andrews, in the year
1567; where he continued until 1570. Being edu-
cated for the ministry, he early displayed much
fervour in his piety, and a fearless boldness and
constant zeal in. the cause of the Reformation in
Scotland. When the regent Morton, in tlije year
1573, obtained an order in the privy-council, autho-
rizing the union of several parishes into one, David-
son, then a regent in St. Leonard's College, expressed
his opposition to and displeasure at that crying
abuse in the church, in a poem, which, although
printed without his knowledge, brought him into
great trouble. He was summoned to a justice-ayre
held at Haddington, when sentence of imprisonment
was pronounced against him; he was, however, soon
after liberated on bail, in the hope that the leniency
thus shown would induce him to retract what he
had written, or at least that his brethren might be
l)revailed upon to condemn the poem. But these
expectations were disajipointed ; and Davidson,
iinding the intercession even of some of the principal
gentry in the country unavailing, and that nothing
but a recantation would save him from punishment,
lied to the west of Scotland, and thence into Eng-
land, where he remained until the degradation of
the regent, when he returned home. He ultimately
attended the earl, along with other clergymen, when
his lordship was about to suffer on the scaffold, and
on that occasion a reconciliation took place between
them.

Davidson again involved himself in difficulties by
the active part which he took against Robert Mont-
gomery, minister of Stirling. Robert Montgomery,
It appears, had made a .Simoniacal purchase of the
archbishopric of Glasgow from the Earl of Lennox;
after which, accompanied by a number of soldiers,
Montgomery came to Glasgow, and proceeded to
the church. He there found the incumbent in the
pulpit, when, going up to him, he pulled him by the
.sleeve, and cried, "Come down, sirrah." The
minister replied, "He was placed there by the kirk,
and would give place to none who intruded them-
selves without orders." Thereupon much confusion
and some bloodshed ensued. The presbytery of
Stirling suspended Montgomery, and were supported
in their authority by the General Assembly; but the
Earl of Lennox, not inclined to submit to this opposi-
tion, obtained a commission from the king to try and
bring the offenders to justice. Before this court
could be held, however, the Earl of Gowrie and
(;ther noblemen sei/.ed upon the young king, and
carried him to the castle of Ruthven, and there con-
strained him to revoke the commission, and to banish
the Earl of Lennox from the kingdom. But the king,
having afterwards made his escape from his rebel
nobles, banished all those who had been engaged in
this treasonable enterprise. Montgomery, who in
the meanwiiile had made submission to the church,
again revived his claim to the archbisliopric of Glas-
gow, whereon Mr. ])avidson, then minister of Lil)-
bertrm, was appointed by the presbytery of Ivlin-
burgh to pronounce sentence of excommunication
iigainst him ; which duty he performed with great
baldness. He was also appointed one of the com-
mission sent to .Stirling to remonstrate with the king
on account of this measure in favour (jf .Montgomery.
In consecpience, however, of the faitlifuhicss with
■^vhich he had admonished his majesty, ])avidson
fnmd it expedient to make a hurried journey into
i'lngland, where he remained for a considerable
time.

Having returned to Scotland, Mr. Davidson sig-
nalized himself in the year 1590, by his letter in

answer to Dr. Bancroft's attack on the Church of
Scotland. In 1596, while minister of Prestonpans,
he took an active part in accomplishing the renewal
of the national covenant. He was chosen to minis-
ter to the assemblage of divines and elders, which
congregated for confession and prayer in the Little
Church of Edinburgh, as a preparatory step to the
introduction of the overture for that purpose into the
General Assembly; and on this occasion "he was so
assisted by the Spirit working upon their hearts,
that within an hour after they had convened, they
began to look with quite another countenance than
at first, and while he was exhorting them the whole
assembly melted into tears before him." "Before
they dismissed they solemnly entered into a new
league and covenant, hokling up their hands, with
such signs of sincerity as moved all present." And
"that afternoon, the (General) Assembly enacted the
renewal of the covenant by particular synods."
"There have been many days of humiliation for pre-
sent judgments or imminent dangers ; but the like
for sin and defection was never seen since the Re-
formation " {Catdc)ti'Ood''s Chitrch llislory).

In the General Assembly held at Dundee, in the
year 1598, it was proposed that the clergy should vote
in parliament in the name of the church. Davidson,
looking upon this measure as a mere device for the
introduction of bishops, opposed it violently. "Busk,
busk, busk him," he exclaimed, "as bonnily as you
can, and fetch him in as fairly as you will, we see
him weel eneugh — we can discern the horns of his
mitre." He concluded by entreating the assembly
not to be rash; for, "brethren," said he, "see you
not how readily the bishops begin to creep up." He
would have protested against the measure — which,
notwithstanding the efforts to pack the Assembly,
was carried only by a majority of ten — but the king,
who was present, interposed and said, "That shall
not be granted: see, if you have voted and reasoned
before." "Never, sir," said Davidson, " but with-
out prejudice to any protestation made or to be
made." He then tendered his protestation, which,
after having been passed from one to another, was at
last laid down before the clerk ; whereon the king
took it up, and having showed it to the moderator
and others who were around him, he put it in his
pocket. The consequences of this jirotest did not,
however, end here; Davidson was charged to appear
bef<;re the council, and was by order of the king
committed prisoner to the castle of Edinburgh; but,
on account of the infirm state of his health, the jilacc
of his confinement was changed to his own manse.
Afterwards his liberty was extended to the bounds
of his own parish, in which he was allowed to per-
form the duties of his charge : and there, after labour-
ing in his vocation for some years, during which he
suffered much from bad health, he died at Preston-
pans in the year 1604.

He was a man of sincere piety, and of an ardent
and bold disposition, which fitted him to take a
leading part in the great movements of the period.
Davidson is particularly deserving of ncjtice on
account of the exertions which he made for the
religious and literary instruction of his ])arishioners
in Prcstonijans. At his own expense he built the
church, the manse, and the school and school-
master's house. The school was erecti;d for teaching
the three learned languages, and he bequeathed all
his heritable and mtn-able ]inj])erty fur its sujjport.
But by much the most extraordinary feature in his
character was his rei)utation iox jirophecy. Calder-
wood tells, that Davidson, "one day seeing Mr.
John Kerr, the minister of Prestonpans, going in a
scarlet cloak like a courtier, told him to lay aside

GEORGE DEMPSTER.

441

that abominable dress, as he (Davidson) was destined
to succeed him in his ministry; which accordin^iiy
came to pass." On another occasion, when John
Spottiswootl, minister of Calder, and James Law,
minister of Kirkliston, were called before the synod
of Lothian, on the charge of playing at foot-ball on
Sabbath, Davidson, who was acting as moderator,
moved that the culprits should l>e deposed from their
charges. The synod, however, awarded them a
slighter punishment ; and when they were ordered
in to receive their sentence, Davidson called out to
them, "Come in, you pretty foot-ball men, the
synod ordains you only to be rebuked." Then,
addressing the meeting m his usual earnest and pro-
jihctic manner, he said — "And now, brethren, let
me tell you what reward you shall get for your
lenity; these two men shall trample on your necks,
and the necks of the whole ministry of Scotland."
The one was afterwards archbishop of St. Andrews,
and the other of Glasgow. — We quote the following
from Wodrow's MS. Lives of Scottish Clcfi^ynwit: —
When Davidson was about to rebuild the church of
Prestonpans, "a place was found most convenient
upon the lands of a small heritor of the parish, called
James Pinkerton. Mr. Davidson applied to him,
and signified that such a place of his land, and five
or six acro>, were judged most proper for building
the church and churchyard dyke, and he behoved to
sell them." The other said "lie would never sell
them, but he would freely gift those acres to so good
a use ;" which he did. ^Ir. L)avidson said — "James,
ye shall be no loser, and ye shall not want a James
Pinkerton to succeed you for many generations :"
and hitherto, as I was informed some years ago,
there has been still a James Pinkerton succeeding to
that small heritage in that parish, descending from
him; and after several of them had been in imminent
danger when childless.

DEMPSTER, George, of Dunnichen (an estate
rear Duiulec, whicli his grandfatlier, a merchant in
that town, had acquired in traiie), was born about
the year 1735. lie was educated at tlie grammar-
school of Dundee and the university of St. Andrews;
after which he rejiaired to ICdinburgli, where, in 1755,
he became a member of the Faculty of .\dvocates.
Possessed of an ample fortune, and being of a social
disposition, Mr. Dempster entered eagerly into all
the gaieties of the metropolis; and at the same time
he cultivated the friendship of a group of young men
conspicuous for their talents, and some of whum
afterwards attained to eminence. \n the number
were William Robertson and David Hume, the future
historians. Mr. Dempster became a member of the
'■'Poker C/u/\" instituted by the celebrated Dr. ,\dam
Ferguson, which met in a house near the Xether-
\u}\v, and had for its otiject harmless conviviality:
l)ut a society which included PJavid Hume, William
Rubertson, John Home (the avuhor of jOi'/c^^Azj), Alex-
ander Carl vie, and George Dempster, must neces-
sarily have conduced to the intellectual improvement
of its meniliers. It was succeeded, in the year 1756,
by the ''.sWcvt .S[h;,:'v," a much more extensive asso-
ciation, cnnsisting cit" most of the men of talent, rank,
and learning in Scotland. The ohiect of this society
was the advancement of literature and the promotion
of the study and s[X'aking of the l',ngli>h language in
Scotland, and Dempster was one of the ordinary
tlirectors. .\ list of the momhers of this scuiety
will be fouml in the appendix to Professor Dugald
Stewart's I.:fc f Dr. /\,"'crt-ori.

.\fter travelling some time on the Continent, Mr.
Dempster returned to Scotland, and ]iractise<i fir a
short while at tiie bar. Lut, abandoning that pro-

fession early in life, he turned his attention to politics,
and stO(xl candidate for the Fife and Forfar district
of burghs. His contest was a very arduous one, and
cost him upwards of /'lO.OOO; but it was successful,
for he was returned member to the twelfth i>arlia-
ment of Great I'ritain, which met on the 25th No-
vember, 1762. He entered the H<juse of Commons
as an independent member unshaLkled by party. In
the year 1765 he obtained the patent ofticc of secre-
tary to the Scottish order of the Thistle, an olTicc
more honourable than lucrative; and it was the only
reward which he either sought or procured for twenty-
eight years of faithful service in parliament. Mr.
Dempster was decidedly opposed to the cont(.-st with
the American colonies, which ended in their indepen-
dence; and concurred with .Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox in
maintaining that taxes could not be cjiistilutiimally
imposed without representation. He did not. how-
ever, enter into any factious ojjposition to the ministry
during the continuance of tiie first .American war;
but on its conclusion he was strenuous in his en-
deavours to obtain an immediate reduction of the
military establishment, and the aljolition of sinecure
places and ])ensions. He joined Mr. Pitt when that
great statesman came into power, and supp<jrteil him
in his financial plans, particularly in the establish-
ment of the sinking fund. Mr. Dempster had
directed much of his attention to the improvement
of our national commerce and manufactures, which
he desired to see freed from all restraint. Put the
object to which at this time, and for many years after-
wards, he seems to have directed his chief attention,
was the encouragement of tiie ."Scottish fisheries.
This had been a favourite jiroject with the jjcnjile (jf
Scotland ever since the time when the Duke of York,
afterwards James H., patronized and became a sub-
scriber to a conqiany formed expressly for the purpose.
At length Mr. Demjister succeeded in rousing the
liritish parliament to a due appreciation of the
national benefits to be derived from the encourage-
ment of the fisheries on the northern shores, and was
allowed to nominate the committee lor rejiorting to
the house the best means of carrying his plans into
execution.

.\bout this period Mr. Dempster was elected one
of the Fast India Company's director-. It is l>eIieV(.-d
that his election took place in op]H,-iti.,n to tlie
prevailing interest in the directory; and certainly his
mistaken notions on the sul;ject of oriental [>o!it'.Cs
must have rendered him an inethcieiil meml:erot that
court. Misled by tr.e commercial tirigin of the cor-
poration, he would have had the cmii^any. alter it
had arrived at great political intlueiice, and ac-
quired extensive territorial po-ses-ioiis in India, to
resign its sovereign power, and to conl;ne it-eil to i'.-
mercaniile speculations. The ]iolicy ol reliii'-.u.siiii.g
territorial dominion in India, has long been a cry
got up for party inirposes; Init it seem- vcr;. extra-
ordinary that I'jenqisler, controlled by ii" -u^ii ::i-
thiencc, should have so violently o!i; i>-i 1 !.::,;-i. .! :■■
the true interest of tb.e country. li.e Di-r ;r.P>
whicli he fell is now obvi^u-; lie w;-:,e ; ;■■ ]:.a;r,;.-. :i_
an individual inono';>oi_\-. wlicii t;;e gvi ■.: w, a.-.n >•:
the country rendered it no l-p.^cr :.'--."■:;•. w..;:e
he pp-iposed to ,ie-troy o;ir su,-.y -'. .r I; ..•.. wben it
might be made the niea-.s ■ 'l" •!,:■•;:;■ ,: a:. . e\-v r, :;r,g
our commerce. Fin>i;iig lp;r.-'-.; i;: .' ■..■ '■' .-tcr '-ur
Indian policy, he w ■.•.!i ipw ;: in ■..-•■ ■.;:■■- 1' ryai. .
became a vio'.crit ]ia:i:a:;K'r.'. ".:'•■ ' '. ; •■'■■■' '''.,''■'"'
company. He sup; rtL- i Mr. 1:'.- I;:. a b..i, a
mea-ure desii^ned ci;:e'i\- : r t^e p:;i; -e "I l' n-
solidating a Wi-g a-i.:^.:.;-::-a:i ;; : .,:. i :. ' pc o>xa-
sion he declare:, tli't "a., ,_,p-.:'i"^ : r.^..'- s..'.i.'i
I'C held inviolable, —ti.'.'r- c.rivei U-p. opc eiiarter

442

GEORGE DEMPSTER

THOMAS DEMPSTER.

only excepted. That is the sole and single charter
which ought in my mind to be destroyed, for the
sake of the country, for the sake of India, and for
the sake of humanity." — " I for my part lament, that
the navigation to India had ever been discovered,
and I now conjure ministers to abandon all ideas
of sovereignty in that quarter of the world: for
it would be wiser to make some one of the native
jirinces king of the country, and leave India to itself"

In 1785 Mr. Dempster gave his support to the
GrciivilU' act, by which provision was made for the
decision of contested elections by committees chosen
by ballot. On the regency question of 1788-9 he
was opposed to the ministry; declaring that an ex-
ecutive so constituted would "resemble nothing that
ever was conceived before; an un-whig, un-tory, odd,
awkwartl, anomalous monster."

In the year 1790 Mr. Dempster retired from par-
liamentary duties. Whether this was owing to his
own inclination, or forced upon him by the superior
influence of the Athole family, a branch of which
succeeded him in the representation of his district of
burghs, seems doubtful. He now devoted his un-
divided attention to the advancement of the interests
of his native country. It was chiefly through his
means that an act of parliament had been obtained
affording protection and giving bounties to the
fisheries in Scotland; and that a joint-stock company
had been formed for tlieir prosecution. In the year
17S8 he had been elected one of the directors of this
association, and on that occasion he delivered a
]30werful speech to the memljers, in which he gave
an historical account of the proceedings for extend-
ing the fisheries on the coasts of Great Britain. He
then showed them that the encouragement of the
fisheries was intimately connected with the improve-
ment of the Highlands; and in this manner, by his
zeal and activity in the cause, Mr. Dempster suc-
ceeded in engaging the people of Scotland to the
enthusiastic prosecution of this undertaking. The
stock raised, or expected to be raised, by voluntaiy
contribution, was estimated at ^150,000. Even
from India consideraljle aid was supplied by the
.Scotsmen resident in that country. The company
purchased large tracts of land at Tobermory in Mull,
on Loch IJrooni in Ross-shire, and on Loch-Bay
and Loch-FoHiart in the Isle of Skye; at all of these
stations they built harbours or quays and erected
:5t'jre!iouses. Everything bore a promising aspect,
when the war of 1 793 with France broke out, and
involved ihe project in ruin. The price of their
stock fell rapidly, and many became severe sufferers
Ir/ the depreciation. Still, however, although the
undertaking proved disastrous to the shareholders,
yet the country at large is dee])ly indebted to Mr.
Dempster f jr the great national benefit which has
since accrued rr(Jinihe parliamentary encouragement
give!l to our fi^herie-..

In farther jiror^ecution fjf his patriotic designs, Mr.
Demjister attempted t'; establish a manufacturing
village at .Skibo, on the coast of Caithness; but the
local di^ailvantages, in spite of the cheapness of
labour and jirovisions, were insuperable (obstacles to
its prosperity; an<l the consequence \\-as, that he
not only in\olved himself, but his brother ai>o, in
heavy pecuniary loss, without conferring any lasting
benefit on the district.

^)\\ the close of his parliamentary carreer, Mr.
Dempster had discontinued his ])ractice of i>assiii;_r
the winter in Lond'Ui, and spent his time jiarlly at
his seat at Dunnichen, and partly in .St. Andrew--.
In that ancient ciiv he enjoyed the society of his old
frieiul Dr. Adam l-\rguson, and of the learned jiro-
fcssors of the iniivcr;ity; and we have a iileasing

picture of the happy serenity in which this excellent
anil tnily patriotic statesman passed the evening of
his life, in the fact that he was in use to send round
a vehicle, which he facetiously denominated "//^t'
route coach," in order to convey some old ladies to
his house, who, like himself, excelled in the game of
whist, an amusement in which he took singular
pleasure. His time while at Dunnichen was more
usefully employed. When Mr. Dempster first
directed his attention to the improvement of his
estate, the tenantry in the north of Scotland were
still subject to many of the worst evils of the feudal
system. "I found," he says (speaking of the con-
dition of his own farmers), " my few tenants without
leases, subject to the blacksmith of the baroi y;
thirled to its mills; wedded to the wretched system
of out-field and in; bound to pay kain and to per-
form personal services; clothed in hodden, and loilged
in hovels." The Highland proprietors, instead of
attempting to improve the condition of their farmers
and peasantry, were driving them into exile, convert-
ing the cultivated lands on their estates into pasturage,
and supplying the place of their tenantry with blade
cattle. Mr. Dempster, in order to find employment
for the population thus cruelly driven from their
native country, became more strenuous in his en-
deavours for the encouragement of our fisheries,
while, in the course he pursued on his own estate,
he held out a praiseworthy example to the neigh-
bouring proprietors, of the mode which they ought
to pursue in the improvement of their estates. He
granted long leases to his tenants, and freed them
from all personal services or unnecessary restrictions
in the cultivation of their grounds; he inclosed and
drained his lands; he built the neat village of Ivctham;
he drained and improved the loch or moss of Dun-
nichen, and the peat-bog of Restennet, by which he
added greatly to the extent and value of his property,
and rendered the air more salubrious. And having
ascertained by experiments that his land abounded
in marl, he immediately rendered the discovery avail-
able; insomuch, it is estimated, that he acquired a
quantity of that valuable manure of the value of
/14.000.

After having enjoyed much good health, and a
cheerful old age, until his last illness, Mr. Dempster
died on the 13th of February, 181 8, in the eighty-
fourth year of his age. We cannot more apjiropri-
ately finish our imperfect sketch of this good and
al)le patriot, than by subjoining an extract from one
of his letters to his friend .Sir John .Sinclair: — "I\\as
lately on my <.leath-beil, and no retrospect afforded
me more satisfaction than that of having made some
scores — hundreds of poor Highlanders happy, and
]iut them in the way of being rich themselves, and of
enriching the future lairds of Skibo and Portrossie.
— Dunnichen, 2d Nov. 1807."

DEMPSTER, Thomas, a learned in-ofcssor and
miscellaneous writer, was Ixjrn at Brechin, in the
shire of Angus, sometime in the latter jiart of the
sixteenth century. Of his family or education nothing
certain has been preserved, farther than that he
studied at Camln-idge. In France, wliither he went
at an early period of his life, and where probably he
received the better part f)f his education, he rcjire-
seiited himself as a man of family, and ]iosses--ed <:l
a good e--tate, which he had abandoiieil for hi-- re-
ligion, the Roman Catholic. He was ])n)inoled to
a jirnfessor's chair at Paris in the college of Beauv;iis.
P>ayle says, that though his l.u--ine--s was nnly tn tiach
a school he was as ready to draw his sword as his
pen, and as quarrelsome as if he had been a duellist
by profession; scarcely a day ]iassed, he adds, in

THOMAS DKMI'STKK.

443

which he did not fight either with his sword or at
fisticuffs, so that he was the terror of all the school-
masters. Though he was of this quarrelsome temper
himself, it docs not appear, however, that he ^ave
any encouragement to it in others; for one of his
students having sent a challenge to another, he had
him horsed on the back of a fcllow-student, and
whipped him upon the seat of honour most severely
])efore a full class. To revenge this monstrous affrcjnt,
the scholar brought three of the king's life-guardsmen,
who were his relations, into the college. Dem])ster,
however, was not to be thus tamed. He caused ham-
string the life-guardsmen's horses before the college
gate ; themselves he shut up close prisoners in the
belfrey, whence they were not relieved for several
days. Disappointed of their revenge in this way, the
students had recourse to another. Tiiey lodged an
information against his life and character, wliich not
choosing to meet, Dempster fled into England. How
long he remained, or in what manner he was em-
ployed there, we have not been informed; but he
married a woman of uncommon beauty, with wliom
he returned to Paris. Walking the streets of Paris
with his wife, who, proud of her beauty, had bared
a more tlian ordinary portion of her breast and
shoulders, which were of extreme whiteness, they
were surrounded by a mob of curious spectators, and
narrowly escaped being trodden to death. Crossing
the Aljis, he obtained a professor's chair in the
university of Pisa, with a handsome salary attached
to it. Here his comfort, and perhaps his usefulness,
was again marred by the conduct of his beautiful
wife, who at length eloped with one of his schf)lars.
Previously to tiiis, wc suppose, for the time is by no
means clearly stated, he had been professur in the
university of Ninies, wiiich lie ol)tained by an
honourable competition in a public dispute upon a
passage of \'irgil. " Ihis passage,'" he says himself,
■'was proposed to me as a difiiculty not to be solved,
when 1 obtained the professorship in the royal col-
lege of Nimes, which was disputed for by a great
num!)er of candidates, and which I at otice very
hc3noural)ly carried from the other competitors;
though some busy people would have had it divided
among several, the senate declaring in my favour,
and not one among so many excellent men and
eminent in every part of learning dissenting, besides
Barnier. The ciioice being also ap])roved by the
consuls, and the other citizens, excepting s<ime few
whom I could name if they deserved it; but since they
are unworthy so much honour, I shall let their envy
and sly malice die with them, rather than contribute
to their living by taking notice of them." At this
period Dempster must have professed to be a Hugue-
not, tlie university uf Nimes being tlestined solely
tor the profcssdrs oC the reformed religion. Pe this
as it may, Dempster, driven from Pisa by th.e intl-
delity of hi^ wile, jiroceeded to Pologna. where he
obtained a piotessorship which he held till his death
in the year io;:5.

Demp-ter was t!ie auth'ir of manv bo^ks, and
during his awn lite certainly eiiioyed a nvist exter.sive
reputation. I lis powers of memory were so great,
that he himself was in the habit of saying that he
did not k;io-.'.- what it was to forget. Notliing, it
was sai I l)v ^ >nie of lii^ encomia^t^. lay so liidden
in the monument^ of antiquity, but tliat he reiuem-
herel it; an I tliey gave him on this account the
apiiellation if a speaking library. He was al-o
allowed to have been exceeilin.,'ly laborious, rea^iing
generallv to-.irteen hour^ e\e;v liay. If he really <!e-
voted so large a ]ior;;on ,.f his time Xo realmg. hi-;
knowledge of ho. .k<. vvn though his niein-iry h.ad
been but of ordinary capacity, nui-t ha\-e been ir.i-

mcnse; but he wanted judgment to turn his riading
to any proper account. What was still worse, h •
was destitute of cfjnunon honesty; "and shamefully, "
says IJayle, "published I know not how many fable's."
In his catalogue of the writers of Scotland, it has
been observed th.at he frequently inserted those of
I'ingland, Wales, an<l Ireland, just as suited his
fancy; an<l to confirm liis assertions, ver)- often quoted
books which were never written, and appealed to
authors who never existed. "Thomas Dempster,"
says .\I. Paillet, "has given Us an ecclesiastical
history of Scotland in nineteen books, wherein he
speaks much of the learned men of that countr)-.
Jjut though he was an able man in other res|.ect'-,
his understanding was n(Jt the more souml, nor h.s
judgment the more solid, nor his conscience the
better for it. He would have wished that all leame 1
men had lieen Scots. He forged titles of books which
were never jiublished, to raise the glory of his native
country; and has been guilty of several cheatin ;
tricks, by which lie has lost his credit among men of
learning.

The catalogue of Dempster's works is astonishingly
ample, and they undoul)tedly exliibit proofs of un-
comiuon erudition. Of his numerous writings, lujw-
ever, his Ilistoria Ecclesiastica Gctttis Stolcruni, is
the most remarkable, though, instead of being, as its
title would indicate, an ecclesiastical historv- oi .Scot-
land, it is merely a list of Scottish authors an 1
.Scottish saints. The work was composed in Italy,
where, it is presumable, the works of Scottisii
authors were not easily accessible; in consequence of
which he could not be expected to proceed with ar.y
very great degree of accuracy; but many of his error--,
even candour must admit, are not the result of inad-
vertency, but of a studied intention to mislead. .V
more fabulous work never laid claim to the honours
of histor}-. Of the names which he so s]deii<iiii!y
emblazons, a large ]iropc:)rtion is wholly fictitious,
and his anecdotes of writers who have actually ex-
isted are entitled to any kind of connuendation bv*
that of credibility. In extenuation of iliis fabuloi:>
]iropensity, however, it ought to be observed, that
lie lived in an age when such fabrication^ were con-
sidered as meritorious rather than rej'rehensible. Tb. ^
rage for legends framed for promoting the j'raetice o:
j^iietv, as was foolishly imagined, gave a gener."I
obliquity to the minds of men, rendering tliem utterly
iiisensil)le to th.e sacred claims and tl^.e imniutab!.:
character of truth. 'I'he most iinj ud.eiu lie, if it
was supposed to favour the cause of religion, wr.-
dignified \\\x\\ the name of a //i .v..- t'lau'i; and tl._-
most paljiable faUehood, if it was de-igr.ed to ] r. -
mote national glor)-, met, from the general ir.v, ul-e
of national vanity, with the same ip.duiger.ce. I Ier.ee
that coiUenqitible mass of lalsel.ood ar.d of (•et.' a
which darkens and disfigures all, and h.a- t .;.:iiy
blotted out the early history of s.^nie ra;i"r,s. Diir.; -
ster had certainly an irrital)le, and. in s iv.e di ,;rie.
a fcrocii.ius disposition, but we d.o ii"! ~ e i:.al i. ■
ought to be charged with nvra! tur; ;f.:de Ky :: ;
the average of the men of hi- ..wn, .-^e n:: i -t.-.u:.: ;
in society. \'et lor the hon.iur .if iii- ^ ■;::.t_\-. n- : /
f )oli>hIy imagined, he ha- C' 'in; il.-i an ::;.:::(. :^-'' !";•:.- -
of increiiible lietion-;. whi.h he ha- _;:■,.%'- iv t i ;: a:; 1
seems to have hoped iiiaiikind in ^ ; < r.d u . ui 1 rt -
ceive as well autlien;:e;'.te 1 !',;-■.■ ::^.. !.•.,_:-. I ■ -.ri '
in the brilliancy of lii-^ iiiiag:r..-l> n ..ry . "'.e -; •.: .
of integrity that illnniiiu i ii:- ui.:!, r--an::!,g. wl.'-i
the reputation '^i hi- ratine c- a:.r:y \\a- e n^ervi ,.
he seem- to ha\e 1 ^■ n ir.earai- '.e ' i ..,-;,;.:'.;.-:.::/
between tniih ay. 1 1, ■;!->■:■. ' ■ ;. l:; ::: - r<-< ■ ' t. .:■ \'. -
^ ever, he-i^'e-not --and ai 'ne. ti.e <-::,•! ! i-'^ t..^: -^
i of every eou;;try i^ei-g ::; - '::"e •'■■-',:^-:~ '-■''-r ■ '■-

444

JOHN DICK.

with the same failing. Even in the most splendid
works of the same kind, written at periods compara-
tively late, many passages might be pointed out
which there is no necessity for supposing their com-
pilers seriously believed. With all his faults, the
reputation of Dempster certainly extended itself to
every country of Europe; and though his most
elaborate works are digested with so little care or so
little skill that they can only be regarded as collec-
tions of ill-assorted materials, exhibiting little merit
beyond assiduity of transcription; yet it would per-
haps be difficult to point out another Scottish writer
who had the same intimate acquaintance with
classical antiquity.

DICK, Rev. John, D.D., an eminent divine of
the Scottish Secession church, was born at Aberdeen
on the loth October, 1764. His father, the Rev.
Alexander Dick, a native of Kinross, was minister
of the Associate congregation of Seceders in that
city.

Of the earlier years of Dr. Dick little more is
known than that he distinguished himself at the
grammar-school. On entering the university in
October, 1777, when in his thirteenth year, he ob-
tained a bursary in King's College, having been
preferred to competitors of long standing. Here he
studied humanity under Professor Ogilvie, Greek
under Leslie, and philosopiiy under Dunbar, and on
30th March, 17S1, he took the degree of A.M.

In 17S5 Dr. Dick, who had now attained the age
of twenty-one, and had studied for the clerical office
in connection with the Secession, received his license
as a preacher from the Associate presbytery of Perth
and Dunfermline, and soon afterwards began to at-
tract notice by the elegance of his sermons, tlie grace-
fulness of his delivery, and the dignity and fervour
of his manner in the pulpit. The consequence of
this favourable impression was, that he received,
shortly after being licensed, simultaneous calls from
three several congregations, — those of Scone, Mus-
selburgh, and Slateford, near Edinburgh, to the last-
named of which he was appointed by the synod, and
was ordained on the 26th October, 1786, at the
age of twenty-two. With this appointment Dr.
Dick was himself highly gratified. He liked the
situation, and soon became warmly attached to his
])eop!e, who, in their turn, formed the strongest at-
tachment to him. During the first year of his min-
istry he lived with Dr. Peddie of Edinburgh, there
being no residence for him in the village. One,
however, was built, and at the end of the period
named he removed to it, and added to his other
])ursuits the culture of a garden which had been as-
signed him, and in which he took great delight. A
few years afterwards he married .Miss Jane Coventry,
second daughter of the Rev. George Coventry of
.Stitchell in Roxljurghshire, a connection which
added greatly to his comfurt and happiness.

Dr. Dick's habits were at this time, as indeed they
also were throughout the whole of his life, extremely
regular and active. He rose every morning before
six o'clock and began to study, allowing himself only
from two to three hours' recreation in the middle of
the day, when he visited his friends or walked alone
into the country. Nor was his laijour light, for,
although an excellent extcm]iore s])caker, he always
wrote the discourses he meant to deliver, in order to
injure that accuracy and elegance of language wjiicli,
he rightly conceived, could not be commanded, or
at least depended on, in extemporaneous oratory.
The consequence of this care and anxiety about his
compositions was a singular clearness, conciseness,
and symplicity of style in his sermons. Nor was he

less happy in the matter than the manner of his dis-
courses. The former was exceedingly varied and
comprehensive, embracing nearly the whole range
of theology.

In 1788, two years after his settlement at Slate-
ford, Dr. Dick made his first appearance as an author.
In that year he published a sermon entitled, The
Conduct a>id Doom of False Teachers, a step suggested
by the publication o{ A Practical Essay on the Death
of Christ, by Dr. M'Gill of Ayr, in which Socinian
opinions were openly maintained. The general aim
of Dr. Dick's discourse was to expose all corrupters
of the truth, particularly those who, like Dr. M'Gill,
disseminated errors, and yet continued to hold office
in a church whose creed was orthodox. During all
the debates in this case, which took place before the
General Assembly, Dr. Dick attended, and took a
deep interest in all the proceedings connected with
it which occurred in that court.

The subject of this memoir did not appear again
as an author till 1796, when he published another
sermon, entitHd Confessions of Faith sho'wn to he
jVecessary, and the Duty of Churches with Fes/ect to
them Fxplaified. This sermon, which was esteemed
a singularly able production, had its origin in a con-
troversy then agitated on the subject of the IVest-
miuster Confession of Faith in relation to seceders
who were involved in an inconsistency by retaining
the former entire, while, contrary to its spirit, they
threw off spiritual allegiance to magisterial authority.
In this discourse Dr. Dick recommends tliat confes-
sions of faith should be often revised, and endea-
vours to do away the prejudice which prevents that
being done.

Erom this period till 1800 the doctor's literary
productions consisted wholly of occasional contribu-
tions to the Christian jMagazijie, a monthly publica-
tion conducted by various ministers belonging to the
two largest branches of the Secession. The contri-
butions alluded to were distinguished liy the signa-
ture Chorepiscopus. But in the year above-named
the able work appeared on which L>r. Dick's reputa-
tion as a writer and theologian now chiefly rests. This
was An Fssay on the Inspiration of the Scriptures;
a production which was received with great aj^iplause,
and which made the author's name widely known
throughout the religious world. The pnjnilarity of
this work was so great that it went llirough three
editions during Dr. Dick's lifetime, and a fourth, on
which he meditated certain alterations, wliich, how-
ever, he did not live to accomplish, was called for
before his death.

Dr. Dick had now been fifteen years resident at
Slateford, and in this time had been twice called to
occupy the j)lace of his father, who had died in the
interval; but the synod, in harmony with his own
wishes, declined both of these invitations, and con-
tinued him at Slateford. The time, however, had
now arrived when a change of residence was to take
place. In 1801 he was called by the congregation
of Greyfriars, (ilasgow, to be colleague to the Rev.
Alexander Pirie, and with this call tlie synod ct)m-
[jlied. Dr. Dick himself cxjiressing no (;pinion on the
subject, but leaving it wholly to the former to decide
on the propriety and expediency of his removal.
The ]iarting of the doctor with his congregation on
this occasion was exceedingly affecting. Their at-
tachment to each other was singularly strong, and
their separation proportionally painful.

Having re]iaired to Glasgow, Dr. Diclc -was in-
ducted, as colleague and successor, into his new
charge, one of the oldest and wealthiest in the Seces-
sion church, on the 21st .May, 1801. Previously to
the doctor's induction a large jjortioii of the members

JOHN DICK THOMAS DICK.

44S

of the congregation had withdrawn to a party who
termed themselves the Old Light; but the diligence,
zeal, and talents of its new minister speedily restored
the church to its original prosperity.

p-rom this period nothing more remarkable oc-
curred in Dr. Dick's life than what is comprised in
the following brief summary of events. In l8lo
he succeeded, by the death of Dr. Pirie, to the sole
charge of the Oreyfriars. In 1815 he received the
degree of Dr. of Divinity from the college of I'rince-
town, New Jersey, and in the following year he
published a volume of sermons. In 1S20 he was
chosen to the chair of theological professor to the
Associate synod in room of Dr. Lawson of Selkirk,
who died in 1819; an appointment which involved
a flattering testimony to his merits, being the most
honourable place in the gift of his communion.
^'et his modesty would have declined it, had not his
friends insisted on his accepting it. For six years
subsequent to his taking the theological chair, Dr.
Dick continued sole professor, but at the end of that
period, viz. in 1825, a new professorship, intended
to enilirace biblical literature, was established, and
the Rev. Dr. John Mitchell was appointed to the
situation. From this jieriod Dr. Dick's labours
were united with those of the learned gentleman just
named.

On the retirement of the Earl of ("jlasgow from
the presidentsiiip of the Au.xiliary Bible Society of
(jl.isgow, in consetpience of the controversy raised
regarding tiie circulation of the .\pocr\pha. Dr. Dick
was chosen to that office, and in ^Iarc]l. 1S32, he
was elected president also of the Cilasgow X'oluntary
Church .Association, to the furtlierance of whose olj-
jects he lent all his influence and talents. Dut his
active and valuable life was now drawing to a close,
and its last public act was at hand. This was his
attending a meeting on the 23(1 January, 1S33, in
which the lord-provost of the city presided, for the
puri)o>e o{ petitioning the legislature regarding the
sanctiiication of the Sabbath. On this occasion Dr.
Dick was intrusted with one of the resolutions,
and delivered a very animated aildress to the large
and respectable assemi^Iage which the object alluded
to had brought together; thus siiowing that, consis-
tently with the opinions he maintained as to the
power of tlie civil magistrate in matters of religion,
he could join in an apjilication to jiarlianicnt fir the
protection of the sacred day against the encroach-
ments of worldly and ungodly men.

Oil the same evening Dr. Dick attended a meeting
of the >e>--iiiii nf (ircN'friars, to make arrangements
for the cclel)ration of the Lord's Supjier, but on
going home he was attacked with a coin])laint, a
di>ea>e in the interior of the ear, which brought on
his deatii, after an illness of only two days' duration.
This excellent man died on the 25tli January, 1S33.
in the sixty-ninth year o{ his age, the f ^rty-seventh
of his mini-try. and the thirteenth of his ]->rofessorsiu]5.
His remain.^ were interred in the High Churchvard
of ( dasgow on the l>t of l-'ebruary fiUowing, ami(l>t
expressions of regret wliieh unei[uiv(_ically iiulicated
the high estimation in which he was held. .\l)out
a year after hi> death his theological lectures were
pulilished ill f lur volutnes, .Svo, with a memoir ju'c-
fixed.

It only remains to l)e a'ldcd. that Dr. Dick, during
the peri h! of his ministry in (da-gow, attracted niiicli
notice by the delivery of a serie> of momhly Sab!>ath
evening lectures on the Acts dt the .\postles, which
were afterwards puhlislied at internals in two volumes;
and, on a second edition being called for, were col-
lected in one vi.ilunie. Tliese lectures, which were
followed up bv a series of discou:scs on ll'.c vli\i:-.e

attributes, are reckoned models for the exixjsition of
the Holy .Scriptures.

DICK, TiioM.vs, I.L.D., F.R.A.S., &c. Tliis

popular writer, who mafic the difficultici of natural
science intelligible to the multitude, was lx>rn in the
Hilltown, Dundee, on the 24th of .\ovenil>er, 1 774.
His father, Mungo Dick, a small linen manufacturer,
being a member of the Secession Church, educatcl
his son according to that strict religious system
which was then jirevalent in Scottish households,
and especially among those of his own communion.
He was also taught his letters at home chiefly by
his mother, and could read the New Testament
before he went to school. The direction of his mind
to astronomical studies is said to have been given i.'i
the ninth year of his age by the a[i])earaiice of a re-
markable meteor, the first flash of which had such
an effect upon him that, overcome with awe, he fell
to the ground. After this he anxiously sought and
perused everj' book connected with the science of
astronomy. This occupati<)n was opposed, however,
to the wishes of his father, who intended to bring
him up to the manufacturing business; but Thomas
Dick, who in his thirteenth year had contrived, liy
saving his pocket-money, t(} ]>urchase a small work
on astronomy, made its pages hi.s constant study,
even while seated at the loom. This bias towards
study was further strengthened by a severe attack of
small-pox, followed by measles, which so greatly
weakened his constitution, that he ])referred th,-
exercise of thought to the bodily lab<jur of weav-
ing.

1 he book to wliich we have referred was entitled,
Miirtiit^s Gentloiiofs and Ladies P/iiIiSO/^/:)', and
his curiosity to see the planets described in it was so
intense, that he begged, borrowed, or jiurchased tlv-
eyes of invalided spectacles from every charter; and
having contrived a machine for the purpose of grin'!-
ing these lenses into the proper form, he mountcl
them in pasteboard tubes, and commenced with ^ucl;
embryo tele>coiies his cele>tial discoveries. Tiiese
strange doings so astonished the neighb airhooii il-.nt
they thought the boy had lost his wits, wliile l.is
parents were grieved at the visitation. Furtl'.i r
acquaintanceshi]), however, with the nature ol h;s
studies, and the conviction that they were '"ni't ui -
canny." reconciled them to his j^arents, and at tlu
age of sixteen he was free to clioose b.is tuiure occu-
jxition. He accordingly became an assist.-.m teaclier
in (jiie of the schools ol' Dundee; and having ]>rejiared
himself by this occupation for the college, he entered
himself when twenty years old as a stuiieiit in the u:-.;-
vcrsily of I'^dinburgh, sujiporting himsel! in the me.-.'i-
time by ]irivate teaching. Diligenlly pr- 'secuting tl.e
studies of philos,iphy and theology. an<i hol/iir.^' tl;.-
otiice of master in seveiul schools succe-sivcly, he .•'.'.-o
coiUributed e->ays to variMUs piili;icati"r.s. by wl.iJi
he trained himself fir the iiiiportar.t t.-sks .( h.s
future authiirslii]). In iSoi lie v. .-.s !:cei>td t -
[ireacli in the Secession clu-.rch, an 1 ■ ir.ci.i'.ed !• r
several years as a jmi bat ;' >ner in \.-.r;. ;:s j aits ,;
Scotland; but at last he settk'i f r u:i y.ars .-.s
teacher of the Secessi,,n sch'-I at \\:±:',r.. ::: c- : -
sequence of the insitati^'n "I t::e Kev. j. J.-.:;.:e- ; ,
and the kirk-ses-.jon ■ 'f that .,;;.^:- r. v.:.' were ; .:-
trons of the scIim, ,]. Hav::!^ :;.-s : ;::>; a ; ei in.^n.-: t
resting-j-ilace, Tii'i:n,-.s 1 i.^k I".,;/.:. :: "--' ■- \; ^ :::r.'- rr -■
fir the iiUellectuai and iivrai v.v\ v \ '."..' \.: '/'/''■'"_
]'eo]ile at large whicii i <:•".■. 1 i.:- ;,r^.';t ; -..v-.v-v^i :
acti.'U throii-lioi-.t the w::>''.e "i h.- It-'. 1 ■ ' ■''• -
p;;r]>ose he reC' inline;'.;'- i •;:e -;-.■. ;y ■: ;,;e s,-.;Th's
to ilie w-orki:;^- classy,, cstahh-hti a_ •■ i c ;^1l's "
lit.inrv." n-:.; ••■;:;;' !i i w i.a" :;;• 'l t ' ••'■ ^.:'v ijc called

44&

THOMAS DICK

DAVID DICKSON.

the first mechanic's institute of the kingdom — for
this was six years before the name was first applied
to it.

After remaining ten years at the Secession school
of Methven, Mr. Dick removed to an educational
establishment at Perth, where he spent other ten
}ears as a public teacher. It was while holding this
situation also that he wrote his Christian Philosopher,
which was published in 1827. As soon as the work
appeared it was received with favour, and the numer-
ous editions through which it successively passed
showed how widely and firmly it had secured for
itself readers in every class of society. In conse-
quence of this success, he resigned his laborious
occupation of a schoolmaster for the more important
one of a teacher of the people through the i>ress, for
wliich he had now shown himself so well (lualified.
In the fifty-third year of his age he accordingly re-
tired to IJroughty Ferry, in the neighbourhood of
Dundee, and built for himself a neat little cottage
on the top of the hill overlooking the Tay. The
plot of ground on which this edifice was erected was
so barren that nothing would grow on it, until he
had laid eight thousand wheel-barrow loads of fresh
soil upon it — and as for the house, it had a room at
the top of it with openings to the four cardinal points,
and fitted up as an observatory, in which were placed
his books and philosophical instruments. The
rustics gazed in astonishment at the house erected in
so high and bleak a region, and at the observator)'
surmounting the whole, and at last concluded that
his principal wish was to dwell near the stars. To
him, however, it was a dwelling congenial to the
high themes on which he meditated, and here he
continued to produce his numerous works until
v.-ithin a few years of his death, when age paralyzed
the activity of his pen.

The principal works of Dr. Dick, besides his
Christian Philosopher, were I'he Philosophy of Pe-
tition; Phe Philosophy of a Pitture State; Phe Im-
frofement of Society by the Diffusion of Kno^vledge;
Phe Mental Illiiniination and Moral Improvement of
Afankind; Clirislian Beneficence contrasted with
Covctousness; Celestial Scenery, or the IVondeis of the
J'lanetary System Displayed ; Phe Sidereal Heavens ;
Phe Practical Astronomer ; Phe Solar System; and,
Phe Atmosphere and Atmospherical J^'ienomena. In
r.'il of tliese works he endeavoured to enlist science
and philosophy in the sen'ice of religion, and by the
simplicity of his treatment and clearness of style
rtlajit the subjects to every class of readers. And
fjw authors in so important an aim have succeeded
so well or acquired such popularity, while his publi-
cations, which went through several editions, were
extensively read and highly valued both in Britain
and .America. It is melancholy, however, to reflect
that, with all this success in authorshi]), he still rc-
raained poor; tliis was owing not by any means to
e\i>ensive habits, but tlie carelessness of his contracts
■aith his pul)liihers, s^) that his literary labours were
very scantily remunerated. Thus it was tliat in old
age, and with the high distinction he had won, he
%\as obliged to lead a life of rigid economy. An
attempt was made, in 1845, by some of the most in-
ilnential in Dundee anrl its neighbouilujod, to obtain
fir him a pension from government; but lheaj)p!ica-
lion failed. .Another was made in 184.7, ^"'1 \\\\)\
more success, as a pension of ^50 a-year was awarded
to him. Happily this scanty sum was increased by
the liber.ality of several gentlemen in Dundee, Invcr-
n(.'ss, and other places, who in consequence of an
appeal through the press raised a small fund, (jiit of
v.hich between ;f20 and £Tp were annuallv ]iaici lo
\\.\n. The title of LL. D. was conferred upon him

by Union College, New York, United States, where
his popularity as a writer was greater than even at
home. Dr. Dick died on the 29th of July, 1857, at
the age of eighty-three.

DICKSON, D.wiD, an eminent Presbyterian di-
vine of the seventeenth century, of whom \^'odrow
remarks, that, "if ever a Scots biography and the
lives of our eminent ministers and Christians be pub-
lished, he will shine there as a star of the first magni-
tude." Remarkable not merely for the part he took
in public affairs — his preaching produced the most
astonishing effects in the early part of the century in
which he lived. Fleming in his work on the Pnlfil-
lini^ of the Scriptures, says of Dickson's pulpit minis-
trations, "that for a considerable time few Sabbaths
did pass without some evidently converted, or some
convincing proof of the power of God accompanying
his Word. And truly (he adds) this great spring-
tide, as I may call it, of the gospel, was not of a
short time, but of some years' continuance; yea, thus
like a spreading moor-burn, the power of godliness
did advance from one place to another, which put n
marvellous lustre on those parts of the country, tin-
savour whereof brought many from other parts of
the land to see its truth." We may be permitted to
devote a few pages to the history of a man thus re-
commended by his great public usefulness, his talents,
and virtues.

The subject of our narrative was a native of Cilas-
gow, in which city his father John Dick, or Dickson,
was a merchant. The latter was possessed of con-
siderable wealth, and the proprietor of the lands of the
Kirk of the Muir, in the parish of vSt. Ninians, and
barony of Fintr)-. He and his wife, both persons of
eminent piety, had been several years married with-
out children, when they entered into a solemn vow,
that, if the Lord would give them a son, they would
devote him to the service of his church. A day was
appointed, and their Christian townsmen were re-
quested to join with them in fasting and prayer.
Without further detail of this story, we shall merely
say, that Mr. David Dickson, their son, was bom in
the Tron Street (or Trongate) of Glasgow, in 1583;
but the vow was so far foi'got, that he was educated
for mercantile pursuits, in which he was eminently
unsuccessful, and the cause of much ]iecuniary loss
to his parents. This circumstance, atkled to a severe
illness of their son, led his parents to remember their
vow; Mr. Dickson was then "])ut t(.i his studyes,
and what eminent service he did in his generation is
knowen."'

.Soon after taking the degree of Master of Arts, .Mr.
Dickson was ap])ointed one of the regents or ]n"ofes-
.sors of [philosophy in the university of (jlasgow; a
situation held at that jjcriod in all the Scottish
colleges by young men who had just finished their
academical career, and were destined for the church.
"The course of study which it was their duty to con-
duct was calculated to form habits of severe ajiplica-
tion in early life, and to give them great facility both
in writing and in speaking. The universities liad the
advantage of their services during the vigour of life,
when they were unencumbered by domestic cares,
and when they felt how much their )e]iutation aiui
interest depended on the cxeitions v, liich tl-.ey made.
After serving a few years (seldom more than eight,
or less than four), they generally obtained appoint-
ments ill the church, and thus transferred to another
fiel'l the intellectual industry and nplitude for com -
munier.iing kncnvledge by which they had distin-

1 Woflrow'.s Atinlrctn, M.S. Advocates' l,il.r.-.ry, i. uR.
\y<'\r',\\\ Li/e 0/ D:ct:son, prcfi.xcd to 'J'rut/is I'utory over
Error, p. .v.

DAVID DICKSON.

447

guished themselves in the university. It may well
\>c conceived, that by stimulating and exemplifying
diligence, their intluence on their brethren in tiie
ministry was not less considerable than on the
])arishioncrs, who more directly enjoyed the benefit
of attainments and experience, more mature than
can be expected from such as have never had access
to similar means of improvement."' liut we must
return from a digression, which seemed necessary in
order to exjilain a system which is no longer pursued.

Mr. Dickson remained several years at Glasgow,
and was eminently useful in teaching the different
branches of literature and science, and in directing
tiie minds of his students to the end to which all
such attainments should lead them — the cultivation
of true piety. I5ut in accordance with the custom
already noticed, he was now removed to a more
honourable, though certainly more hazardous call-
ing. In the year 1618 he was ordained minister of
Irvine. At this period, it would appear he had paid
but little attention to the subject of church govern-
ment, a circumstance the more remarkable when
we consider the keen discussions between the Pres-
byterians and J^[)iscopalians on such questions. But
the year in wliich he had entered on his ministry
was too eventful to be overlooked. The General
Assembly had agreed to the five ceremonies now
known as the Perth articles, and a close examination
convinced Mr. Dickson that they were unscriptural.
.Soon afterwards, when a severe illness brought him
near death, he openly declared against them; and
no sooner had Law, the Archijishop of Glasgow,
heard of it, than he was summoned before the court
of high commission. He accordingly appeared, but
declined the jurisdiction of the court, on account of
v.hich sentence of deprivation and confinement to
Turriff was passed upon him. His friends prevailed
upon the archbishop to restore him, on condition
that he would withdraw his declinature; a condition
with which he would not comply. Soon after, Law
yielded so far as to allow him to return to his jiarish,
if he would come to his castle, and withdraw the
jiaper from the hall-table without seeing him; terms
which Mr. Dickson spurned, as being '"but juggling
in such a weighty matter." At length he was per-
mitted, in July, 1623, to return unconditionally. -

After noticing the deej-) impression Mr. Dickson
made u[)on the minds of his hearers, Mr. \\'odiow
gives us the following account of his ministerial
labours at Irvine: — ".Nlr. Dickson had his week-day
sermon upon the Mondays, the market-days then at
Irvine. Upon the .Sabl)ath evenings, many persons
\;nder soul distress used to resort to his house after
sermon, when usually he spent an hour or two in
answering their cases, and directing aivl comforting
those wh ) were cast down; in all which he had an
cxtraordinar)- tal'.'ut; indeed he had the tungue of
t'.ie learned, and knew how to speak a word in seasrm
t.) the weary soul. In a large hall he had in his
ii nise at Irvine, there would have been, as I am in-
finnel by old Christians, several scores t)f serious
Christians waiting f >r him when he came from the
ch'.irch. Til )>-■, with the iUHi])le round the town,
wA > came in {•> the m.uket at Irvine, maile the
church as tliii)ng, if not thronger, on the Mondavs
r.s on tile I.ord's-dav, liy tiiesc week-dav sermons.

1 A', ■/■Jr/, -/(/.;• K.'y.i! r,'w;.7;j.f/,".'/)r r:s!t!>:c t'lf S:rtt:s/i
r>i:7't-rs-f:r.i. i-;i. p. r;i. ATMt:;cr jrr.ictici: at t!iis penxl
WIS, th.it tho rc'jn:-. when tlicy t > .k the ■>:i:h of ..jTi:o. sh iiii^l
i:'3\go tt \Mc:\to thrir ch.ir^'j i:i the pvent of ni.irr\-iiis. Mr.
J.imes l).ilry:!iiilj iftcrwir is the Vi-.t-i.unt of .St.nr , having
mirried while a recent at ^''..1-^; 'W in i 43. lioniitteJ. but was
rj-ippointeci. — //■.•'..''.

-Wo^irow's .;/■•;;,.;> r/ /•/ :j -r;, p. :;, ,3. I.ivi:-- :oil'=.
C':(.tra.ti-r:st::s, eiit. 177 ', p. :i.

The famous Stcwarton sickness was begun about
the year 1630; and spread from h'juse to house fur
many miles in the str.ith where Stewarton water runs
on b(jth sides of it. Satan endeavoured to bring a
rejiroach u[)on tlie serious [K-rsons wi»o were at this
time under the convincing work of the .Spirit, by
running some, seemingly under serious concern, to
excesses, both in time of sermon an<l in families.
lUit the Lor I enabled .Mr. Dickson and other min-
isters who dealt with them, to act so prudent a j)art,
as Satan's design was mucli <!isappointed. and sulid,
serious, practical religion flouridie<i mightily in the
west of Scotland about this time, e\e:i under the
hardships of prelacy."

About the year 1630 some oi the Sottish clergy-
men settled among their countr)-inen ui.o had emi-
grated to the north of Ireland. Wiiiie they were
permitted to preach they had been hiLjhly useful;
ijut the Irish prelates did not long allow them to
remain unmolested: they felt the jjrogrc-s (jf their
opinions, and with a zeal which, in attempting to
promote, often defeats its own cause, determined to
silence the Presbyterians, or oblige them to conform.
In 1637 Robert Blair and Joiin Living--ton, ai^ainst
whom warrants had been issued, alter secreting
themselves near the coast, came over to Scotlami.
They were received by Mr. Dickson at livine, and
were em]doyed occasionally in preaching for liim.
He had been warned that this would be --dzed upon
by the bishops as a [)retext for deposing him, but he
woukl not deviate from what he considered his duty.
He was, therefore, again called before the hi.::h cmi-
mission court; but we are only tuld that "he soo:i
got rid of this trouble, tlie bishops' power being nov.
on the decline."

In the summer of th.e same year scverrd miiiister';
were charged to buy and receive the .S<vtv<v JUo^; a
measure which produced tiie most important con-e-
quences. .Mr. John Livingston, in his autohiograpliy.
has tr\ily said that tlie sulisequer.t cl'..i;i:;es in the
church took their rise from tv.-o p'.titir.iis ] re-entf;
u|ion this occasion. Many ot'ner~ loHoweii, s.n-\ their
jiraver being refuse'!, increased tlie lunr.ber a:id de-
mands of the jietitioners; they required the alniiiiion
of the lii,L;h commission, and exeir.pti.ii Ir.'m the
Perth articles. These were still leiu-ei, and th'-ir
inindier was now so great a> to form a l.'.r^-e niajori!%
of the ministers and ]^eo; le. Th.e jre-liytery of
Irvine joii'.ed in tiie I'eti'.ion. at ilie i!.~ti_:at:on >■'.
Mr. Dick-oii. and tliri)U-lioi:t tlie wlv-le oj the j r< -
ceedings whicli lollov.cd upon it. we si..:!! fii'.d \\.:v.
taking an active but modeiate ]'art.

Wiien the General As-rir.i-iv of \(\'s v,ns en-

voked, Davi 1 Dick-on,

Robert Pa

Russell, minister at Kii

iinr.e. wert.

■ i w

d t.

It 1

rvr.u

jiresent the jire-lt} tcry
reason, vote, aiv.l cor.c
of (iod. and cuiite-sion
.Assemblies." Mr. Di
objected to by tiie kii;
censure of the hioli coiniiVis^^ 'ii
injustice of tlie pr. icee:;;-:^s a.;
theretore admitted nie:iilie:~.
borne a zealoijs and r.--e!;;l i ait

ar.d

to tl

r; V,

astical col

lie

threatenc'l

tv

with mud

a

inserted it

111

yet too iinj

"->:■

course UT"

n .

session. Is

a!

savs tliat

■.e

of l-.i^ov.n

a ir.imL'.T

C'l

h:^

\rn

A

'p..-.';

44S

DAVID DICKSON.

David's discourse was much as all his things, extem-
pore; so he could give no double of it, and his labour
went away with his speech."* An effort was made
at tills period by John Bell, one of the ministers of
Glasgow, to obtain Mr. Dickson for an assistant,
but the opposition of Lord Eglinton and that of Mr.
Baiihe in behalf of the presbytery of Irvine, were
sufiicienl to delay, though not to prevent the appoint-
ment.

In the short campaign of 1639 a regiment of I2CK)
men, of which the Earl of Loudon was appointed
coroner (or colonel), and Mr Dickson chaplain, was
raised in Ayrshire. The unsatisfactory jiacification
at Berwick, however, required that the Scots should
disband their army, and leave the adjustment of civil
and ecclesiastical differences to a parliament and
assembly. Of the latter court Mr. Dickson was,
by a large majority, chosen moderator; a situation
which he filled with great judgment and moderation.
In the tenth session a call was presented to him from
the town of Glasgow, but the vigorous interference
of Lord Eglinton, and of his own parishioners, con-
tributed still to delay his removal. His speech at
the conclusion of the assembly, as given by Steven-
son, displays much mildness, and forms a striking
contrast to the deep-laid ])lans formed by the king's
party, to deceive and ensnare the Scottish clergy.

Soon afterwards (1640) Mr. Dickson received an
appointment of a much more public and important
nature than any he had yet held. A commission for
visiting the university of Glasgow had lieen appointed
by the assembly of 1638, to the members of which
the principal had made himself obnoxious, by a
strong leaning towards episcopacy. It was renewed
in sui)sequent years, and introduced several import-
ant changes. Among these was the institution of a
separate professorship of divinity, to which a com-
petent lodging and a salary of ;^Soo Scots was
attached. This situation had been long destined for
Mr. Dickson; and when he entered upon tlie duties
of it, he ditl not disappoint the expectations of the
nation. Not only did he interpret the Scriptures,
teach casuistical divinity, and hear the discourses of
his students, l:)ut \Vodrow informs us that he preached
every Sunday forenoon in the High Church.

We find Mr. Dickson taking an active part in the
assemljjy of 1643. .Some complaints had been made
of the continuance of episco])al ceremonies, such as,
repeating the doxology and kneeling, and Alexander
Henderson, the moderator, David Calderwood, and
Mr. iJickson, were appointed to prepare the draught
of a directory (or pul)lic worship. It had, we are
informed, the effect of quieting t!ie spirits of the dis-
contented. Tills is the only pulilic transaction in
which we find him employed while he remained at
Glasgow.

The remaining events in Mr. Dickson's life may
he soon enumerated. In 1(^50 he was appointed
])rofessor of divinity in the university of Ivlinlnirgli,
where he dictated in Latin to liis students, what lias
since been ]>ul)lislied in ]i!ngli^li, under tlie title of
7'ntllis Victory az'cr Error. Mr. Wodrow mentions
tliat tlie greater part of the ministers in tlie wot,
south, and ea^t of .Scotland had been educated under
him, either at Glasgow or lvlinl)urgh. 'I'herc .Mr.
Dickson continued till the Restoration, wlien lie was
ejected for refusing to take the oath of sujiremacy.
The great cliange which took place Sf> rapidly in tlie
ecclesiastical estal)Iishment of the country preyed
upon him, and undermined his constitution.

His last illness is thus noticed by Wodrow : — "In
December, 1662, he felt extremely weak. Mr. John

I Uuillic'i printed Letters and Journals, i. 125.

Livingston, now suffering for the same cause with
him, and under a sentence of banishment for refusing
the foresaid oath, came to visit Mr. Dickson on his
death-bed. They had been intimate friends near
fifty years, and now rejoiced together as fellow con-
fessors. When Mr. Livingston asked the professor
how he found himself, his answer was, 'I have
taken all my good deeds and all my bad deeds, and
cast them through each other in a heap before the
Lord, and fled from both, and betaken myself to the
Lord Jesus Christ, and in him I have sweet peace!'
Mr. Dickson's youngest son gave my informer, a
worthy minister yet alive, this account of his father's
death. Having been very weak and low for some
days, he called all his family together, and spoke in
particular to each of them; and when he had gone
through them all, he pronounced the words of apos-
tolical blessing (2 Cor. xiii. 14) with much gravity
and solemnity, and then put up his hand, and closed
his own eyes, and without any struggle or apparent
pain immediately expired in the arms of his son, my
brother's inforn.cr,'^ in the year 1663." This period
has been noticed by some of our historians as par-
ticularly calamitous. In the course of a few years,
when the church most required their support, the
deaths of Dickson, Durham, Baillie, Ramsay, Ruther-
ford, and many others, are recorded.^

Of Mr. Dickson's works the indefatigable Wodrow
has given a minute account. By these he is best
known, and it is perhaps the best eulogium that
could be pronounced upon them, that they have
stood the test of more than two hundred years, and
are still highly valued.

His commentaries on the Psalms, on the Gospel
of St. Matthew, on the Epistles, and on that to
the Hebrews, wdiich was printed separately, were
the results of a plan formed among some of the
most eminent ministers of the Scottish church for
publishing "short, plain, and practical exposi-
tions of the whole Bible." To the same source
we are indebted for some of the works of Durham,
Ferguson, Hutchison, &c. ; but the plan was never
fully carried into effect, and several of the expositions
in Wodrow's time still remained in manuscript. IMr.
Dickson's Treatise on the Promises, published at
Dublin, in 1630, i2mo, is the only other worlc
printed during his life, with the exception of some
ephemeral productions arising out of the controversy
with the doctors of Aberdeen, and the dis])utes bt--
tween the resolutioners and protesters. A few j^oems
on religious subjects are mentioned liy Wodrow, but
they are long since quite forgotten.

^Ir. Dickson's I'hcrapeutica Sacra, or Cases of
Conscience Resolved, has been printed both in Latin
and iMiglish. On the 25th of July, 1661, he applied
to the privy council for liberty to publish the luiglish
version ; and Fairfoul, afterwards Archbishop of
(ilasgow, was appointed to examine and rejiort upon
it. "\ow, indeed," says Wodrow sarcasticallv,
"the world was changed in Scotland, when Mr.
Fairfoul is pitched upon to revise Mr. David Dick-
son, professor of divinity, his books." What was
the result of this application is not known; it is only
certain that no further progress v.as made in the
attainment of this object till 1663, after the author's
death. On the 23d of March that year his son,
Mr. Alexander Dickson, jirofessor of Hebrew in the
university of ]-2dinl)urgh, again a])])lied to the loids
of the council, who in October granted license to
jiritit it without restriction.'' It was accordingly
published in 1664.

* Wodrow's Memoir of Dickson, \t. xiii.

■* I ,riw's Men:oriiils, p. i>

■t History o/t/ie SiiJJ. 0/ ttu: ChiirJi 0/ Scotland, cd.

DAVID DOIG.

449

The last work which we have to notice is TrutlCs
Victory mrr Error, which was translated by the
eccentric George Sinclair, and published as his own
in 16S4. What his object in doing so was Wodrow
does not determine, but only remarks that // (and
we think there is no doubt in the matter) it was
"with the poor view of a little glory to himself, it
haiipeiied to him as it generally does to self-seeking
and private-spirited persons even in this present
state. In accordance with the prevailing custom
of the times, many of Mr. Dickson's students had
copied his dictates, and Sinclair's trick was soon
and easily detected. One of them inserted in the
running title the lines,

" No errors in this book I see,
But G. S. where V>. D. should be."

The first edition, with the author's name, was
printed at GIa.sgow, in 1 725, and has prefixed to it
a memoir of the author, by Wodrow, to which we
have already alluded, and to which we are indebted
for many of the facts mentioned in this article.'

DOIG, Dr. D.wid, the son of a small farmer in
the county of Angus, was born in the year 1 7 19.
His father dying while he was still an infant, he
was indebted for sulisistence to a stepfather, who,
although in very moderate circumstances, and bur-
dened with a young family, discharged to him the
duty of an affectionate parent. P'rom a constitu-
tional defect of eyesight, he was twelve years of age
l)efore he had learned to read; he was enabled, how-
ever, by the ([uickness of his intellect, and the con-
stancy of his application, amply to redeem his lost
time: his progress was so rapid, that after three
years' attendance at the parochial school, he was the
successful candidate for a bursary in the university
of St. Andrews. Having finished the usual ele-
mentary course of classical ami philosophical educa-
tion, he took the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and
commenced the study of divinity, but was prevcnteil
from comjileting his studies by some conscientious
scruples reganhng certain of the articles in the Pres-
byterian confession of faith. Thus diverted from his
original intention of entering the church, he taught
for several years the jiarochial schools of Monificth
in Angus, and Kennoway and Falkland in I-'ifeshire.
His great reputation as a teacher then obtained for
him, from the magistrates of Stirling, the ap]:)oint-
ment of rector of the grammar-school of that town;
which situation he continued to fill with the greatest
al)ility for upwards of forty years. It is a curious
coincidence, that on one and the same day he re-
ceived from the university of .St. Andrews a diploma
as Master of Arts, and from the university of Glasgow
the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. — Dr. Doig
died March iGtii, iSoo. at the age of eighty-one.

In addition to a [irofound knowledge of the Greek
and Latin langu.iges, l)oth of which he wrote witli
classical ]nirity, Dr. Doig had made himself master
of the Hcl)rcw, .\rabic. and other oriental languages,
and W.1-; deeply verged in the hi>tory and literature
of the l',a>t. I If his j-iroficiency in the more abstruse
learning he h.is afforded abunilant jiroof in his dis-
sertations on .l/:'//},i.',\T, Mysft-riiS, and /V/;/<'/<i^t.
which were written at the request of his intimate
friend and the conip.inion of his social hours, the
Rev. Dr. (ieorge tileig, antl publi>he<l in the J-'.ncv.

his A,

M

1 Wofir
clown the fill nvini; c'viri;-.'!
"I he.ird tii:it wlicn Mr. 1 ).i
I-ndy Hglint nine, wh i at tt;

Wigton, Culriss. i^c, .md they .ill carc^scii him v.t\
he s.iid, ' L.idies, if .ill this kindness be t.) ni-; .is Mr
Dickson. I Clin frendor] y m n.^- th.inks, hut if it !•• t
a scrwint of my M.\st.:r, .mJ i-ix his s.ikc, I t.ike it .ill \
VOL. I.

-VdvH-atcs' I.ibnrv, sets

:ic an-jcd-te .-f Mr. Dickson:

1 rii.ksnn cime in 1 1 sec the

liir.e hid with her the I,.idv

nuKdi.

I>.lv;,i

clofiiedia Britannka : of which work that able and
ingenious clerg)man edited the last volumes, and
wa-> himself the author of many of the most valuable
articles which the lx)<)k contains. That part of the
encyclopa-dia containing the article I'hilolo.^', writ-
ten by Dr. Doig, having l>cen published in the same
week with a Dissertntion on the drak Verb by
Dr. Vincent, afterwards Dean of WcNtminster, that
author was so much struck with the coinci<ience, in
many points, with his own opinions, that he com-
menced an epistolary' correspondence with Dr. Doig;
and these two eminent jjhdologists, by frequent com-
munication, assisted and encouraged each other in
their researches on these subjects. The same lilK-ral
interchange of sentiment characterized Dr. Doig's
correspondence with Mr. Bryant, in their mutual in-
quiries on the subject of ancient mythology. .■\mong>t
other proofs which Dr. Doig gave of his profound
learning, was a Dissertation on the Ancient Hellenes,
published in the Transactions of the Royal Society
of Jidinbiiri^h.

The most remarkable event of Dr. Doig's literarv
life, however, was his controversy with Lord Kame^.
That eminent philosopher, in his Essay on Man,
had maintained, as the foundation of his system, that
man was originally in an entirely savage state, and
that by gradual improvement he rose to his present
condition of diversified civilization. T!;ese opinions
were combated by Dr. iJoig, who endeavoured to
prove that they were neither supported Ijy soun^l
reason, nor by historical fact; while they were at th .•
same time irreconcilable with the Mo.^aic account
of the creation. In the Bible the historical details
of the earliest period present man in a comparatively
advanced state of civilization; and if we resort to
profane history, we find that the earliest historicrd
records are confirmatory of the sacred lx)oks, and
represent civilization as flijwing from those jioriions
of the globe — from the banks of the Euphrates and
the Nile — which the biblical history- describes as the
seat of the earliest civilization. Slodern history is
equally favourable to Dr. Doig's system. In La.sicr:i
Asia we find nations remaining for thou.sands i i
years in identically the s.ime state of inipr<)\enKri'.,
or if they have moved at all, it has been a retrograde
movement. In Africa, also, we perceive man in pre-
cisely the same contiition in wliich the (ireek ar:d
Roman writers rejiresent him to have been two
thousand vears ago. Liirojie alone affords an e\-
amjde of progress in civilization, and that progress
may be ca--ily traced to intercourse with the eastern
nations. Man seems to possess no power to advance
unassi.sted, beyond the first stage of barbarism. Ae-
cording to Dr. Robertson, "in every stage of society,
the faculties, the sentiments, ami the desires of niei\
are so accommodated to their own .state, that ih'.y
become standards of excellence to thenisches; ;1kv
affix the idea of jierfection and hapjiiness to il.os.-
attainments which resemble their o\\n, ar:d N\l,ire-
ever the objects of enjoyment to which t:'.e\ li.n •
been accustomed are wanting, eoiitid.ently j i^ i ■ i'.;r.^ e
a ]ieoiile to be barbarous ami miscnible." '1 i'.e •.in-
liedimeiils which jirejudice and i!..;i"i;al \.".?.'i\' thr.s
oji])ose to improvement were mainly lui 'hcii I'.'Wi
in Ivarope by the cnisades and tlu-.r c i.-c ;r.e!.i.e~,
whereby the eivili/ation of the \ :.< w.'^s .iitliiM.d
through the several nations in 1 .'.: -j'<-. .\;'.icrii.a
presents the only iiisi.mce <'t a ', ■-";'"-■ h--"-^'''g "•'■■
vanced coiisideral)!)' in e;v:!-..-.M:' ci i:' ass-.-ti..., .-.j -
parently, by external ir.MC' ■■.■: -e. 'I lie Me\i..M,s
and Peruvians, wb.en \:':< i;is^. i\ , red. wire L:r<.^.".y
more civiii/ed tha!i tiie surr^ cind;:.g tri'-es: . ;:t :■...
though this Iv a itniUci. \i;. as it -.\..\ riv.^?.:::- a
debatable question wh.eucc the i-cple "t Ar'eriea

23

45°

DAVID DOIG

DAVID DON.

derived their origin, and as the most plausible theory
represents them as having migrated from the nations
of Eastern Asia, it may, after all, be contended, that
the Mexicans and Peruvians had rather retrograded
than advanced, and that, in truth, they only retained
a portion of the civilization which they originally
derived from tiie same common source.

Dr. Doig's controversy with Lord Karnes was
maintained in two letters addressed to his lordship,
but which were not published until 1793, several
years after the death of Lord Karnes; they led, how-
ever, to an immediate intimacy between the con-
trovertists, of the commencement of which we have
an interesting anecdote: — The first of these letters
"dated from Stirling, but without the subscription
of the writer, was transmitted to Lord Kames, who
was then passing the Christmas vacation at Blair-
Drummond; his curiosity was roused to discover the
author of a composition which bore evidence of a
most uncommon degree of learning and ingenuity.
In conversing on the subject with an intimate friend.
Dr. Graham Moir of Leckie, a gentleman of tasle
and erudition, and of great scientific knowledge, who
frequently visited him in the country, his lordship
jiroducing the letter of his anonymous correspondent,
'In the name of wonder,' said he, 'Doctor, what
prodigy of learning have you got in the town of Stir-
ling, who is capable of writing this letter, which I
received a few days ago?' The doctor, after glanc-
ing over a few pages, answered, 'I think I know
him, — there is but one man who is able to write this
letter, and a most extraordinary man he is; — David
Doig, the master of our grammar-scliool.' — 'What!'
said Lord Kames, 'a genius of this kind within a
few miles of my house, and I never to have heard
of him! And a fine fellow, too: he tells his mind
roundly and plainly; I love him for that: — he does
not spare me: I respect him the more: — you must
make us acquainted, my good doctor: I will write
him a card; and to-morrow, if you please, you shall
bring him to dine with me.' The interview took
place accordingly, and to the mutual satisfaction of
the parties. Tlie subject of their controversy was
freely and amply discussed; and though neither of
tliem could boast of making a convert of his an-
tagonist, a cordial friendship took place from that
day, and a literary correspondence began, which
sulfered no interruiition during their joint lives."

We have various testimonies of the high respect
in wliich Dr. Doig was lield by all who were ac-
quainted with him, and the sincere regard felt for
him by his friends. Mr. Tytler, in his Life of Lord
Kames, embraces the opportunity, while treating of
the controversy between him and Lord Kames, to
give a short outline of his life, as a small tribute of
respect to the memory of a man whom he esteemed
and honoured; and whose corres]:)ondence for several
years, in tiie latter part of his life, was a source to
him of the mtjst rational pleasure and instruction.
John Ramsay of Ochtertyre raiscfl a mural tabbn to
his memory, on which he placed the foll(n\ing iu-
.scrijJtion: —

D.WID DOIG!

Duni temijus crit, v.ilc '

Quo dcsidcTio nunc rccciril )r

Collociui.'i, citnas, itinera,

(^uac tecum olirn halnii,

Prope i'aichii nfiargincni,

Ubi la;ti sajpc una cnavimusl

Sit mihi pro solatio mcrita tiia contcmjilarc.

Tibi piiero orbo,

Ingcnui i'4niculos dedit Pater cclestii,

Tilji ctiain grandaivn.

Labor i[)se crat in deliciis.

Tc \ i.\ alius doctrina; ditior,

Xenio ed')Ctus modestior.

Tuo in bcnnonc miti lu'.cban;

J. R.

Candor, charitas, jucunda virtus,

Ingenii luniine sane gratiora.

Defunctum te dolebant octogenarium

Cives, discipuli, sodales.

Vcnerande Senex ! non omnis extinctus es !

Aninia tua, sperare lubet, paradisum incolit.

Ibi angelonun ore locutura,

Ibi per sempiternas sa;culoruni a;tates,

Scientia; sitirn in terris insatiabileni

Ad libitum e.xpletura.

DAVID DOIG !

Farewell through time !

With what regret do I now remember

Tl>c conversation, the meals, the journeys,!

Wliich I have had with thee,

On the banks of the Teith,

Where, well pleased, we often strayed together.

Be it my consolation

To muse upon thy good qualities.

On thee, an orphan, thy heavenly Father

Bestowed the seeds of Genius:

To thee, even when well stricken in years,

Labour itself was delight.

Than thee, few more rich in literature.

None of the learned more unassuiniiig.

In thy converse mildly shone

Candour, kindness, amiable virtue,

Moie engaging than the glare of genius.

When thou died'st, aged fourscore,

y ownsmen, scholars, and companions,

Dropt a tender tear.

Vener.able old man.

Thou hast not utterly perished !

Thy soul, we trust, now dwells in heaven:

There to speak the language of angels;

There, throughout the endless ages of eternity,

To gratify to its wish that thirst for knowledge

Which could not be satiated on earth.

A favourite amusement of Dr. Doig was the com-
position of small poetical pieces, both in Latin and
English, of which those of an epigrammatic turn were
peculiarly excellent. Erom among those fugitive
pieces, the magistrates of Stirling selected the follow-
ing elegiac stanzas, which he had composed on the
subject of his own life and studies, and engraved
them upon a marble monument, erected to his
memory at the exnoise of the community of .Stir-
ling.

Kdidici quacdam, perlegi plura, notavi
Paucula, cum domino mox pcritura sue,

Lubrica Pieria; tentarem praiinia palina;,
Creduliis, ingenio heu nimis alta meo.

Kxtincto famam ruituro crescere saxo
Posse putcni, vivo qu.'e mihi nulla fuit !

DON, David. This excellent botanist was born
at Eorfar in tiie year iSoo. His father being the
proprietor of a mirsery and liotanic garden there,
such a circiunstance was sufficient to give the mind
of David a bias towards this science in early youth,
and while wcukiiig in his father's garden he would
necessarily become accpiainted with the plants and
flowers among which he ^\■as occupied. Ihit an
ordinary or merely professional amount of knowledge
on such subjects was not sufficient for him, and he
]iursued his investigations under the direction of his
father, who was himself an al)le practical botanist,
until he had ac(|uircd considerable knowledge of the
subject as a science. Tliis was sho',\"n in Edinburgh,
when -Mr. Don, sen., was ajipointed to the charge of
the botanic garden in that cit\'; David, v.ho at that
time was a }-ouiig man, was found to jios.^ess sucli
botanical knowledge, tliat .Mr. Patrick Neill and otiier
gentlemen connected with the garden obtained for
him the means of attending some of the classes in the
university. The stay of his father was but for a
short time in EtUnburgh, and he retunud to his own
botanical garden in hoifar, where he had cuUivated
the botany of his native country with great success;

» Dr. I).

anrl CiMibt
few weeks

. in company with Mr. Ramsay, visited Oxford
i;c in 1791, and some ye.ars alter they spent a
rether al Peterlieiid.

JOHN DONALDSON.

4S«

but the young man, who now required a wider field
of study, obtained soon after\vards a situation in the
establishment of Messrs. Dickson of Broughton, near
Edinburgh, where he had the care of the finest col-
lection of plants in Scotland. In 1819 David Don
went to Ivondon, and being recommended to Mr.
Lambert, who at that time had a large collection of
l>lants, he was by that gentleman established entirely
in his own house as curator and librarian. In 1822
the situation of librarian to the Linnican Society
becime vacant, and to this congenial office, notwith-
standing his youth, Don was appointed. Already,
indeed, he had acquired high distinction among the
students in botanical science, while this appointment
afforded the best opportunities for the extension and
improvement of his knowledge. In 1836 he was
ajipointed professor of botany in King's College,
London, in consequence of the death of Professor
Burnett; and the duties of this office he continued to
discharge with credit to the end of his life. That
valuable life, however, was une.xpectedly and pre-
maturely terminated. .Mthough of a robust and
strong constitution, a malignant tumour appeared on
his lip, and although it was removed, it soon re-
appeared in an .aggravated fi)rm, and ended his days
on the 8th of December, 1840, when he had only
readied the forty-first year of his age.

The reputation of David Don as a distinguished
botanist was established in early life, not only among
his friends, but the world at large, by his publications
on the science which he so enthusiastically cultivated.
One of the first of these was a description of several
species of plants which were either entirely new, or
confined to a few localities, and had been collected
in .Scotland by his father and other persons. This
article was jnibli^hed in the third volume of the
Mi-inoirs of tJw Wtiiicrian Society of Ediii/ucr^/t.
.Soon after he published, in the thirteenth volume of
the Linn.ean .Society, ,-/ Afoi;oin-af/i of tlic Coins
Sjxifra^d, by which his reputation as a sound ac-
curate botani>t was firmly established. 1 lis apjioint-
ment of librarian to the Linna^an .Society having
directed his studies to the Indian collection of jilanls
containetl in its museum, he ]iublishe(l descriptions
of several species of [ilants that grew in Xepaul,
under the title of ProJroniiis /-/one .W-fiilcnsis.
Indeed, after his appointment as librarian, aiinost
every volume of the Linnrcan -Society's Transaclioiis
was enriched by him with papers on various depart-
ments of systematic botany. His numerous scientific
contributions from early youth to the clo^c of his life
are to be found in every volume of the J'raitsijctu'us
of the Linn. ran Soc-icty from vol. 13 to vol. 18; in the
JAvnoirs of the Wcrncrian Society of Edinburgh, vols.
3 and 5; and in the Edtn'un-.;h Xe:v Philosofhieal
J^urn.il, vols. 2 and 19. These are chietly descrip-
tive of varii.'.is new genera and species, and on
various points in tlie jihysiology of plants, while the
scientific character of their author has been thus
briefly sunimcl up by his biographer, whose account
we have filloweil: "His numerous ]>apers . . . are
sufficient ])roof of his iniJUstry, and they have a real
value. Don's kno\vIe'l..,'c of plants wn- niost exten-
sive, and his appreciation of species really and exact.
He was not. however, fully alive to the imjiortance
of stu(l}ing plants in their morpholo_;ical relations.
and manv of his papers are open t(j criticism on this
g-ound.''

DONALDSON. J^ 'HN. This wayw.ini artist .ind
author, who w.inted" nothing but common sense to
have attained verv hiL;h distinction, was born at
I'ldinburgh in 1737. His fitlicr. a glover in r.uher
liumblc circumstances, v.as a man atidicicd to tucta-

physical theories and reveries, which did not, how-
ever, interfere with his daily business; but in the
son this tendency finally pretiominated to the exclu-
sion of every other care.

Kven while a child, John Donaldson exhibited an
extraordinary aptitude for drawing; he copied every
object with chalk upon his father's culting-lxiard,
and when he was only twelve or thirteen years of
age, he had attained such proficiency in executing
miniature portraits in Indian ink, as to assist in sup-
porting his parents. He was likewise so admirable
a copyist in imitating ancient engravings with his
pen, that these imitations were often mi -.taken even
l>y the skilful for originals.

After he h.ad thus spent .some years in Ldinburgh. he
went to London, and for some time p.ainted ]K,rtraits
in miniature with great success. liut Ix-sides the.^c,
he betook himself to historical drawing, in which he
was still more successful, and one of his productions
in this department (the tent of Darius) gained the
prize given by the .Society of Arts. He also jjainted
two subjects in enamel, the one on the death of Dido,
and the other from the stor)- of Hero and Leandcr,
i)Oth of which ol)tained prizes from the same societv.
I le was now regarded as an artist of high j^romise,
and his foot w.as planted upon the ladder which
\\ould have raised him to fame and fortune, when
the spirit of the moral dreamer which had l>een
growing within him, superseded the inspiration of
the artist. He had begun to think that the taste,
intellectual pursuits, government, morals, and religion
of mankind were all wrong — and that, as the neces-
sary consequence of his making such a discover}-, he
was the ])erson destined to set them all right. His
father had been able, while discussing the mo~t ab-
struse metaphysical subjects, to carry on his work
without interniption, and cut out gloves ui-on the
board; but lohn, an exaggeration of his father, was
so wholly possessed by hrs theories as to become in
the ordinary affairs of life as helpless as a child. .Vn
indifference, nay, a positive aversion to the art which
he had cultivated so carefully and successfully, had
now obtained complete possession, which he mani-
fested bv startling indications: he mair.iained that
Sir Joshua Reynolds must be a ven.- d.nll fellow to
devote his life to the study of lines and tints; .md
on one occasion, when the carriage <'f I.ord North
waited at his door, his iMrdship was sent awny with
a ••not at home." becau-e the arti-t w.is i:..t in a
humour to ]iaini. Donaldson a!-o ci;'.!i\.ued his
conversational p<iwers, which were ch.ietly distin-
guished by smart epigram and sarcasm - -ami think-
ing perhajisthat theseuouM be .available instrument-
in the regeneration of human ojiinion. he would statt
from his easel to his writing-desk, and finish an epi-
gram, or secure a living thought, though xnie 1 crson
of rank should at the time be sitting f^r l;i- \- ;ira;i.
(_)f course his improvement as a jKiinterw.-s -t. ; ; ed.

and his friends .md
bv these instances, n
inferior artists were
would he submit to
proofs that the w ji. ■
combined in a coiisp
reform them. Thti-
b-.isiness to ctilti-.ate
In the meantime. .i
ing. he was not i i!e.
had written .ntte^tc
eutre or uni'.:.,''--'te 1
(iiily works b.e \-\\\'
mass of l.ii>o;;r. w ev

jxatrons p.lieuate't
or bv the fact th"

.-.r.d

: t he
'I he

452

WALTER DONALDSON JOHN DOUGALL.

entitled Critical Remarks upon the Public Buildings of
London. Among his various studies was the science
of chemistry, and he discovered a method not only
of preserving vegetables, but the lean of meat, so as
to remain uncorrupted during the longest voyages,
for which he obtained a patent; but his want of
money, and entire ignorance of business, prevented
him from deriving any benefit from the discovery.
The last twenty years of Donaldson's life were years
of suffering, chiefly arising from penury; his eyesight
as well as his business had failed, and he frequently
was in want of the common necessaries of life. His
last illness was occasioned by sleeping in a room which
had been lately painted. \\\ consequence of this im-
prudence he was seized with a total debility, and
being removed by some friends to a lodging at Isling-
ton, he, in spite of every care they could bestow,
died on the i ith of October, 1801. Such was the end
of John Donaldson, a man addicted to no vice, and
temperate to abstemiousness; endowed with high
talent in various departments independent of that of
art, and beloved by all who knew him on account of
his many virtues as well as endowments. His only
fault — but one which was sufficient to negative all his
good qualities — was that total want of common sense
which is so necessary for the business of every-day
life, and without which all talent must be unavailing.

DONALDSOISr, Walter. This learned writer,
who is classed among the eminent scholars of the
seventeenth century, was a native of Aberdeen, and
v.as born probably about the year 1575. His father
held the rank of a gentleman; his mother was the
daughter of David Lamb of Dunkenny. The first
notice we have of him shows that he formed part of
the retinue of David Cunningham, Bishop of Aber-
rieen, and Sir Peter Young, great almoner of Scot-
land, when they were sent as ambassadors by James
\T. to the court of Denmark, and to some of the
princes of Germany. This was probably in 1594,
when the embassy was sent to announce the \nr\\\
of the king's eldest son, Henry, afterwards Prince
of Wales. After his return home, where he made
a short stay, Donaldson once more visited the Con-
tinent, and studied in the university of Heidelberg,
where the civil law was ably taught by the elder
Gothofredus. While studying at this university, he
also appears to have instructed private ]5upils, one
of whom, a native of Riga, published his Synopsis
of Ethics, without his knowledge or consent. Don-
aldson mentions, although not in the language of
displeasure, that the work thus surreptitiously pub-
lished under the title of Synopsis Alora/is Pliiloso-
phi(C, went through several editions in Germany, and
also in Great I>ritain, and that the learned Kecker-
mann had in several instances plagiarized from its
pages.

From Germany Donaldson re])aircd to France,
where he i)ermancntly settled, and was ap])ointed
principal of the Prfjtestant university of .Sedan. Here,
besides performing the dutit:s of jjrincipal, he
taught moral and natural philosophy, and the (ireek
tongue — a proof of the variety of his attainments, and
the high estimation in which they were held. In
this university were also two of his learned cf)untry-
men, one of whom was John Smith, one of the pro-
fessors of philosophy, and the other the celelfrated
Andrew Melville, who occupied one of the chairs of
divinity. Besides such multifarious teaching, Don-
al Ison had leisure to compose a large an<l learned
work for the use of students, extending to nearly 700
]ia,;es, and the plan of which had lieen suggested
to him by Gothofredus, his teacher at Ileidellxrg.
It was a systematic arrangement, inCJreekand Latin, j

of passages extracted from Diogenes Laertius, under
the title of Synopsis Locoriim Cornmunium, in qua
Philosophiic Ortus, Progrcssus, iSt^c, ex Diogene
Lai'rtio digeruntur. Francof. 1612, 8vo. The same
work also reappeared under the title of Electa La'cr-
tiana: in quibus e Vitis Philosophorum Diogenis
Lacrtii totius Philosophice Ortus, Progrcsstis, variicque
de Singulis Scntenticc, in Locos Communes victhodice
digerinitur. Authore G. Donaldsono, Scoto-Britanno.
Francfurti ad Moenum, 1625, 8vo.

After residing sixteen years at Sedan, Donaldson
was invited to open a college at Charenton, near
Paris; but the idea of a new Protestant seminary
established so nigh the walls of the capital seems
to have alarmed the dominant religion of the country,
and the Papists instituted a lawsuit for the purpose
of frustrating the design. It was while this suit was
pending that he again exercised his pen in the service
of instruction, by producing another learned work,
entitled Synopsis Oeconomica, authore G. Dojiahhonc,
Scoto-Britanno, Aberdonensi, y. C. ad celcisissimum
Carolutn, IVaiUcB Principem. Paris, 1620, 8vo.
Of this work there was a reprint at Rostock in 1624,
and another at Frankfort in 1625, while its merits
are commended in Bayle's Dictionary as a work
deserving to be read. And here the record of this
distinguished and valued scholar terminates. We
are unable to ascertain how the lawsuit ended, or
where and at what time Donaldson died. We can
only learn inferentially that he was survived by his
widow, whose name was either Hoffan or Gofiin,
and by several children.

DOUGALL, John, was born in Kirkcaldy in
Fifeshire, where his father was the master of the
grammar - school. After receiving the jirimary
branches of education at home, he proceeded to the
university of Edinburgh, where he studied for some
time, with the intention of entering the Church of
Scotland ; but afterwards changing his design, he
devoted himself principally to classical learning, for
which his mind was unusually gifted. He also
directed his attention to the study of mathematics,
of ancient and modern geography, and of the modern
languages, including most of those of northern Eu-
rope. He made the tour of the Continent several
times in the capacity of tutor and travelling com-
panion. Afterwards he was private secretary to the
learned General Melville; and ultimately he estab-
lished himself in London, where he dedicated his
life to literary pursuits. He was the author of Mili-
tary Ad-c'cnturcs, 8vo; The Modern Preceptor, 2 vols.
8vo ; 'Phe Cabinet of Arts, including Arithmetic,
Geometry, and Chemistry, 2 vols. 8vo ; and contri-
buted besides to many scientific and literary works,
])articular]y to the periodical ]5ublications of the da\-.
He also engaged in the translation of works from
the French and Italian languages. For many years
he employed himself, under the patronage of the late
Duke of \'ork, in preparing a new translation of
Crsa/s Connnentaries, with copious notes and illus-
trations. This woik, however, he did not live to
complete, which is much to be regretted, as from his
classical knowledge he must have rendered it highly
valuable. He had likewise intended to prepare an
I'^nglish translation of Strabo, as well as to clear up
many doubtful j^assages in Polybius, for which he
was eminently ciualified; but the want of encourage-
ment and the narrowness of his circumstances frus-
trated his wishes. Reduced in the evening of his
life to all the miseries of indigence and neglect, he
sunk, after a long and severe illness, into the grave,
in the year 1S22, leaving his aged widow utterly
destitute and unprovided for; and affording in him-

SIR CHARLES DOUGLAS

DAVID DOUGLAS.

453

self an instructive but painful example of the hard-
ships to which, unless under very favourable circum-
stances, men even of extraordinary attainments are apt
to be reduced, when, forsaking the ordinary paths of
professional industry, they yield to the captivations
of literature.

DOUGLAS, Sir Charles, a distinguished naval
officer, was a native of Scotland; but we have not
learned where he was bom, nor to what family he
belonged. His education must have been very
good, as he could s[)eak no fewer than six different
European languages with perfect correctness. He
was originally in the Dutch service, and it is said
that he did not obtain rank in the British navy
without great difficulty. In the Seven Years' war,
which commenced in 1756, he was promoted through
the various ranks of the service till he became post-
captain. At the conclusion of the war, in 1763, he
went to St. Petersburg, his majesty having previously
conferred upon him the rank of baronet. On tlie
war breaking out with America in 1775, Sir Charles
had a broad pendant given him, and commanded
the squadron employed in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
His sers'ices on this station were, after his return to
England, rewarded with very flattering honours, and
he soon after obtained command of the Duke, 98
guns. Sir Charles was remarkable not only as a
linguist, but also for his genius in mechanics. He
suggested the substitution of locks for matches in naval
gunnery — an improvement immediately adopted, and
which proved of vast service to the British navy.
( )n the 24th of November, 1 7S1, he was appointed first
captain to Sir George Rodney, then about to sail on
his second expedition to the West Indies. Sir George
having hoisted his Hag in the Fonitidable, Captain
Douglas assumed the command of that vessel, and
they sailed on the 15th of Januar)-, 17S2, from Tor-
bay. On the I2thof A])ril took place the celebrated
engagement with the French fleet, in which the
British gained a most splendid victory, chielly, it is
supposed, in consequence of the Foniiidable having
been directed across the enemy's line. In our me-
moir of Mr. Clerk of Eldin we have recorded part
of the controversy which has been carried on respect-
ing the originator of this idea. It was there shown
that ."^ir Charles Douglas utterly denied the claims
of -Mr. Clerk : we must now show what claims have
been jnit forward for himself Douglas, it must be
remarked, was an officer of too high jirincijile to
make any claims himself He thought it a kind of
insubordination for any one to claim more honour
than what was allowed to him by his su[K-riors in
the despatches or in the gazette. Hence, whenever
any one hinted at the concern which he was gene-
rally sujijioscd to have had in suggesting the measure,
he always turned the conversation, remarking in
genera! term-.— "N\'e had a great deal todo. sir, and
I beliese }(ia will allow we did a great deal."' The
claim has l^'cn put forward by his son. Major-
general Sir Howard Douglas, who, at the same
time, speaks in the f)llowing tt-rms of his father's
delicacy upnji tlie >ubjcct : -''He never, I repeat,
asserte<l, or ^vou^l accept, when ciMiipIimcntcd u])iin
it, greater sh.irc in llie hdnoiir of the day than wh.it
had lieeii piihHcly and ofticially given liini, and I am
sure his >pirit wmuKI not approve ot my reclaiming
anv laurels ofth.it achievement from the t<inih of his
chief" The jirincipal proof brought firward by .sir
Howard consists of the following extrnct from a
letter bv Sir C'harles l)a.-.hwood — a surviving actor
in the engagement of the 1 2th of April, tho;j-h then
only thirteen years of age. " Being one of the aiiie.-
de-camp to the commaiuler-in-chief on that nicmur-

able day, it was my duty to attend Ijoth on him and
(he captain of the tleet, as occasion might rc^juire.
It so liappened, that M.»me time after the battle had
commenced, and whilst we were severely engage*!, I
was standing near .Sir Charles Douglas, who was
leaning on the hammocks (which in those days were
stowed across the fore-i)art of the quarter-detk), his
head leaning on his one hand, an<l his eye occasion-
ally glancing on the enemy's line, and apparently in
deep meditation, as if s<jme great event were cross-
ing his mind : suddenly raising his head, and turning
(|uickly round, he said, 'D.ish, where's Sir (ieorgej*"
'In the after-cabin, sir,' I replied. He iniinc-<iiately
went aft: I followed; and on meeting Sir George
coming from the cabin, close to the wheel, he took
off his cocked hat with his right hand, holding his
long spy-glass in his left, and, making a low and
profound bow, said — 'Sir George, I give y(ju joy
of the victory!' — 'I'oh!' said the chief, as' if half
angry, 'the day is not half won yet.' — 'Break the
line, Sir George!' said Douglas, 'the day is your
own, and I will insure you the victor)-.' — 'No,' said
the admiral, 'I will not break my line.' After
another request and another refusal. Sir Charles
desired the helm to be put a-port ; Sir George
ordered it to starboard. On .Sir Charles ag.'iin
ordering it to jiort, the admiral stemly said, ' Re-
member, Sir Charles, that I am commander-in-chief,
— starboard, sir,' addressing the master, who during
this controversy had placed the helm amifiships.
The admiral and captain then separated; the fonner
going aft, and the latter going forward. In the
course of a couple of minutes or so, each turned and
again met nearly on the same spot, when .Sir Charles
cpiietly and coolly again addressed the chief — 'Only
break the line. Sir (jeorge, and the day is your owri.'
The admiral then said in a quick and hurried way,
'Well, well, do as you like,' and immediately tunied
round, and walked into the after-cabin. The word>
'I'ort the helm,' were scarcely uttered, when Sir
Charles ordered ine down with directions to com-
mence firing on the starboard side. < )n my return
to the fpiarter-deck I found the I-'orvuda^ Ic ]ia>vii;g
between two French shij)s. each nearly toucl'.:ng u^.
We were followed by the .Wiinur and tlie rot of the
ships a-tern. and from that moinent the victory was
decided in our favour."'

Referring the reader fir a fun'ier di-cussion of thi>
controversy to tlie S^d nunilier of tlie Quancn'y
A'iT7;7t', we may mention that l.or'l Ro.iney never
failed to confess that the advantages of the (iay were
greativ improved by .^ir Charles Douglas. After
the conclusion of the war. the gallant otncer wr.>
intrusted witli the command of the Nova Scotia
station, which, liiiwever, he resigned, in con~e';i:e;:ce
of some proceedings of the navy board with whxh
he was displeased. During the prep.ir.il;"n- f cw.ir
in 1787, he was promoted to t!:e rar.k ^-i rt.ir-
atlmiral. and next year he wa^ rea;']i, .;:ited : « \]\.-
Nova Scotia station. He expire';, however. \:.:v:.-
uarv. 17S0. in the act of entering a ;;::'., c r.U'.Mig
at jviinburgh. a stroke of a]H.].ie\y I..;v:rig ti:' l.im
off in a single moineiit. (Uer :v.'A nl'vc a.! liis

claims to the honours of tli-.
tlie character <if a brave av.
mechanical inveiiti^n^ !:ive !
son. Sir Howard, wh- -e w. r
liook (,f -tandard exceiici.ce.

f .\:

:. !:e

His

DOUGLAS. l>\v

T:

lircscnt (iav, \i. iic

1 li;

■ ; nth

-: k:i"W.i

'-^':'

j^anied with t!ie .

1 .'r.!

TN ar.

i i.i. .!:•.;■.■-

that the pursu.; 0

' -'-;

-AC'- :-

', .-t \ \\ \

'■ ;!

of niar:vrdu:u. I

r. 'h

.s C.U-.',

'■'■ ■'■C'CT,

••-■-

454

DAVID DOUGLAS.

the present memoir forms a rare and mournful excep-
tion.

David Douglas was born at Scone, in Perthshire,
ia the year 1798, and was the son of a working
mason. After having received a common education
at the parish school of Kinnoul, he was, at an early
period, placed as an apprentice in the garden of the
Earl of >Ian3field, at Scone Palace. In this occupa-
tion his favourite pursuit had full scope and develop-
ment, so that he soon became remarkable in the
neighbourhood for his love of reading during the
winter, and his researches in quest of wild plants
during the months of summer. Thus he continued
till his twentieth year, when a still more favourable
opportunity of improvement presented itself at Valley-
field, the seat of Sir Robert Preston, in whose garden,
famous for its store of rich exotics, he became a
workman; and the head gardener of the establish-
ment, Mr. Stewart, having observed the ardour of
his young assistant in the study of botany as a science,
procured him access to .Sir Robert Preston's rich
botanical library. From Valleyfield, David Douglas
removed to Glasgow, where lie was employed as
gardener in the botanic garden of the university;
and here the valuable knowledge he had acquired was
so highly estimated by Dr. (afterwards Sir) William
Hooker, the professor of botany at Glasgow, that he
made him the companion of his professional explo-
rations while collecting materials for his Flora Sco-
tka. In this way Douglas had ample opportunity of
improving his knowledge of plants in the Western
Ilighlanils, over which these scientific tours extended,
as well as securing the approbation of one who could
well ap])reciate his acquirements. The result was,
that Professor Hooker recommended his talented as-
sistant as a botanical collector to the Horticultural
Society of London, by wliom he was sent in 1823
to tlie United States, for the purpose of enricliing
our home collection in botany with choice trans-
atlantic specimens; and this he successfully accom-
plished, by bringing home before the close of the year
many fine plants, as well as a valuable collection of
fruit-trees, t)y which the store of the society in the
latter important production was materially aug-
mented.

The zeal and ability which Douglas had shown on
this occasion soon procured employment in a wider
field of enterprise. This was to explore the liotanical
resourcesof the country adj(^ining theColumbia River,
anri southwards towards California, and ascertain its
multifarious productions. He left England for this
purpose in July, 1824, and as soon as the vessel
touched the siiore lie commenced his ojierations.
This was at Rio-de-Janeiro, where a large ci^llection
of rare orchidaceous plants and bulbs rewarded his
labours. .Among these buU)s was a new species of
Gesneria, hitliertD unknown to the botanists of Eng-
land, and wliicli .Mr. .Sal)ine, the secretary of the Hor-
ticultural .Society, named the (1. Doui^lasii, in honour
of its di-^coverer. .So rich was the soil and so ])len-
tiful the ]5r(Kluctions of this part of .South .Xnierica,
that Douglas, who could here have increased his
scientific treasures to an indefinite extent, wnsol)ligrd
to leave it with regret. In tloubiing (ajic Horn, lie
shot several curious birds, only to Ije found in these
latitudes, and carefully prepared them for being
brought home. The vessel touched at the i>land of
Juan lernandez, that romantic residence of ,\lexan-
'ier .Selkirk; an'l Douglas, who was delighted v.iili
its wooded scenery and soil, soweil liere a ])lentifi!l
collection of garden seeds, in the hojie that some
future Robinson Crusoe would be comforted by the
])roduce, sliould such a person again become its
tenant. On tlie 7th of April, 1825, he arrived at

Fort Vancouver, on the Columbia, where his proper
mission was to commence; and here his fitness for it
was well attested by the immense collection of seeds
and dried specimens which he transmitted to the
Horicultural .Society at home. Among his discoveries
were several species of a pine of enormous size, one
of these, belonging to the class which he called the
Pintis Lainherliana, in honour of Mr. Lambert, vice-
president of the Linna^an .Society, measuring 215 feet
in height, and 57 feet 9 inches in circumference.
The cones of this forest Titan, of which he sent home
specimens, were 16 inches long and II in cir-
cumference. Put they had something else than mere
bulk to recommend them; for their kernel, which is
pleasant to the taste, and nutritious, is roasted or
pounded into cakes by the Indians, and used as an
important article of food; while tiie resin of the tree,
on being subjected to the action of fire, acquires a
sweet taste, and is used by the natives as sugar.
After having spent two years in the country adjoin-
ing the Columbia, and exploring it in every direction,
Douglas, in the .-pring of 1827, left Fort Vancouver,
and crossed the Rocky Mountains to Hudson's ]5ay,
where he met -Sir John Franklin, Dr. Richardson,
and Captain Back, on their way homeward from
their second overland Arctic expedition, with whom
he returned to England. His successful labours in
botanical science, and the important additions he had
made to it, insured him a hearty welcome among the
most distinguished of the scientific scholars in London;
so that, without solicitation, and free of all expense,
he was elected a fellow of the Geological, Zoologi-
cal, and Linnajan Societies. He was also requested
to publish his travels, and a liberal offer to this effect
was made to him by Mr. Murray, the publisher; but
though he commenced the undertaking, he did not
live to complete it, so that his authorship was con-
fined to several papers which he contributed to the
Transactions of the three societies of which he was
elected a fellow; and extracts from his letters to Dr.
Hooker, which were published in Brt'a:stcr''s Edui-
bjirgh yoiirnal for January, 1828.

After remaining in London for two ycar.s, Mr.
Douglas resumed his duties, and set off upon that
last scientific tour which -was destined to a melan-
choly termination. He returned to the Columbia
River in 1829, and after some time spent in explora-
tion among his former fields of research, which he
prosecuted with his wonted ardour and success, he
went to the .Sandwich Islands. The iidiabitants of
these islands being in the practice of trajiping wild
bulls in pits dug for the purpose, Mr. Douglas, one
evening, after a few months' residence, fell into one
of these excavations, in which an animal had been
previously snared; and the fierce creature, already
maddened by its captivity, fell upon him, so tliat
next morning he was fi)und dead, and his body
dreadfully mangled. This tragical event occurretl on
the 1 2th of July, 1834.

Thus i)rematurely, in the thirty-sixth yearof his ago,
was the life of this eiUerprising ti-aveller and skilful
botanist cut short. The value oi his discoveries, even
in so brief a caieer, it would be difficult fully to a]i-
])reciate. He introduced into our country almost all
the new hardy ])Iants that enrich our gardens. To
these may be added many ornamental shrul)s, as well
as valuahie timber-trees that adorn our s)lvan plan-
tation^, ancl give jiromisc of extensive future advant-
nq;e to I'.ritain. Of the plants alone, which are too
numerous to specify in this \vc)rk, he introduced 53
of the woody ami 145 of the herbaceous gemis,
while his dried collection of Californian plants alone
consists (;f about 800 different kinds. He was ihu-,
no mere curiosity-hunter, but a benefactor t(j society

GAVIX DOUGLAS.

455

at large; and it may be, that while new productions
are implanted in our soil, and naturalized in our
climate, the name of the humble but sagacious and
enterprising individual who thus benefited our coun-
try for ages to come, will pass into utter forgetfulncss.
Hut if he has been unable to command immortality,
he hxs done more — he has deserved it.

DOUGLAS, Gavin, one of the most eminent of
our early ]>octs, was the third and youngest son of
Archibald, fifth E.irl of Angus, by Klizabeth Hoyd,
only daugliter of Robert, Lord Boyd, high chamber-
lain of Scotlanil. The Earls of Angus were a
younger branch of the family of Douglas, and helped
in the reign of James II. to depress the enormous
power of the main stock; wlience it was said, with a
reference to the complexions of the two different
races, that the rt-d Douglas had put do-uni the black.
Archibald, tlie fifth carl, father to the poet, is noted
in our history for his bold conduct respecting the
favourites of James III. at Lauder, which gained
him the nickname o{ BeU-the-cat. His general force
of character amidst the mighty transactions in which
he was engaged, caused him to be likewise desig-
nated "the great earl." According to the family
historian, he was everyway accomplished both in
body and mind; of stature tall, and strong made;
his countenance full of majesty, and such as bred
reverence in the beholders ; wise, and eloquent of
speech; upright antl regular i'.i his actions; sober,
and m<jderale in his desires; valiant and courageous;
a man of action and undertaking; liberal also; loving
and kind to his friends; which made him to be
beloved, reverenced, and respected by all men.

Gavin Douglas, the son of such a father, was born
al)out the year 1474, and was brought up for the
church. \V'iiere iiis education was commenced is
unknown; but, according to Mr. Warton, there is
certain evidence that it was finished in the university
of i'aris. lie is supposed, in youth, to have tra-
velleil for some time over the Continent, in order to
make himself acquainted witli the manners of other
countries. In 1496, when only twenty-two years of
age, he was ajipointed rector of Hawick — a benefice
probably in the gift of iiis family, which has long
held large property and higli inlluence in tliat jiart
of the country. We are informed by the family
historian that in youth he felt the pangs of love, but
was soon freed from the tyranny of that unreasonable
jiassion. I'rohaljly his l)etter principles proved
sufficient to keep in check what his natural feelings,
aided by the jirjelical temperament, would have
dictated. However, he appears to iiave signalized
his triumph In- writing a translation of Ovid's AV-
>n:dy oj Liyrw He alludes in a strange manner to
this work, in his traiishition of Virgil; giving the
following t>ee reading of the well-known ]iassage in
the .I-'.ind, where hi> auth.or >i>eak> of the Ihtioliis
and (j,\')\i,-.; a^ iia\:ng been his farmer composi-
tions : -

"Si t!r,i-i f.iiuw >.:;(! the tloiire nf pix-trv.
'Ih'j ';..itlcliN .1:: i ll.c m.-.ii tr,in>I.Ui.- li'.ivc I.
<J.ihi!.< y n; .1,' . in ijuno i::i>'..u:ntit y"u:]i
l':ifr'.:<tu".i-, i icliio tlc.-im!. j>^ I .-.uth.
Of < )v,k-i, I.v.fc t'l.j K.;.no.ie .ii.'. trniisl.T..-.
Aa.l ^yivj i.riuc H.n .'.ir tht I'.u;cc wr.-iLC."

In tiio-;e d.iys. it i!.ie> not seem to lir.ve been con-
sidered theda'.y of :i ir,\n-l,it'>r lo pi;; hini-.-if exactly
into the pl.ice "f the autli'r; he' was jierniilted to
substitute m 'dein allu-i mi^ f 'r the oriL^inal: and, a>
this specimen te-tilie^. to alte^ any jier^onalitv re-
specting the author, -o a> t" .ij-jly t > Irni-elf. The
translation of tlie A'rin.M'y ,■/' / - ,-. wliicli in\i-t iiave
been written before the year 1501, has not been jire-

scrved. In the year just mentioned, he wrote his
J'alace of Honour — an apologue for the conduct of a
king, and wiiich he therefore addressc<l very appro-
jiriately to his yrumg sovereign, King James IV.
'ITie poet, in a vision, fiixis himself in a wilderness,
where he sees troops of ])ersons travelling towards
tile I'alace of Honour. He joins himself to the train
of the mu-es, and in their cmipany proceeds to the
happy i)]ace. At this jioinl of 'the allegory his
description of one of their resting-places is exceed-
ingly beautiful : —

' 'Our horses pasturit on .ine plcas.inil plane.
Law at the foot of anc fair j;rtnc niontai'.c.
Amid ane mcid, shaddowit with cedar trees.
Safe fra all heit, thair niiylit we weil remain.
All kind of hcrhis, flouri-., fniii, and Kraiii,
With ever>- growand tree thair men luight clic:^,
'I'he beryal streams rinnand owcr stancnc grti^,
Made sober noise; the shair dinnit again,
For birdis sang, and sounding of t}ic btis."

In his last adventure he seems to allude to the law
of celibacy, under which, as a priest, he necessarily
lay. The habitation of the honourable ladies (which
he describes in gorgeous tenus) is surrf)unded by a
deep ditch, over which is a narrow bridge, formed
of a single tree; and this is supposed to represent the
ceremony of marri.age. L'pon his attemjning to pass
over the bridge, he falls into the water, and awakes
from his dream. Sage, in his life of Douglas, pre-
fixed to the edition of the .-l-.ticid, thus sjieaks of the
poem under our notice: "The author's excellent de-
sign is, under the similitude of a vision, to represent
the vanity and inconstancy of all worldly ponq) and
glorv-; and to show that a constant antl inflexible
course of virtue and goodness is the only way to true
honour and felicity, which he allegorically describes
as a magnificent palace, situated on the top of a very-
high moimtain, of a most ditTicult access. He illus-
trates the whole with a variety of examples, not onlv
of those noble and heroic souls whose eminent virtues
procured them admission into that blessed place, but
also of those w retched creatures whose vicious lives
have fatally excluded them from it for ever, notwith-
standing of all their worldly state and graii'Ieur.''
This critic is of opinion that the ]ioet took his ],Ian
from the palace of hajpiue^s described in tb.e 'la'l-t
of Cebes.

In all jirolialiility these ]H:eni- were written at I'.is
residence in the town of Hawiek. wliere h.e wa- ^ur-
rounde<l with scenery in the highest liegree ealeu-
lateil to nurse a ]Joetieal fancy. In 1509 he was
nominated to be jirovost of tlie collegiate church ot
St. (iiles, at Ldir.burgh, and it is likely that he then
changed his residence to the capital. S' -me years be-
fore, he had contenqilated a translation of tlie .7. /.-r;,.''
into Scotii-h verse, as apjiears from hi- /'..-.'/l;- ■;/
//';/(-;/;•, wiiere \'enus pre-eiils him v. iih acpyi.:
that ])Oem in the original, .-'nd, in wiw.i.- <A her ri. Na-
tion to the hero, reque-ls the p'lt !■■ give a ver-i^'Ti
of it in hi- vernacr.lar tong-je. 1 >>'r.g'.-;- y 'miiie!-.c- i
his labour- in January, 15 1 1~ 12. ar.>! alih^ugh he ; le-
laced each book with an '^rigiiia! ]" 'eir.. . ■.;•.': i:x,;:-a !
the poem written by Ma]'heu- X'igr.-' .-. - .-. thiiUt !.'.h
l;ook, the wh"!e wa- complete-l in i '^l/.i -. :; r.-. ■:::.•>.
two of uhieh. he tell- u-! were -;■.;.; . \i h:- \ tl'. m
other bu-ine-s. 1 he \\-:k v..-.- >. '•:■■' :• ■■ 1 ■ 'i t!:e
22d of July. i;i,v Tile ..";.■/.■: <..^N ^1 I''-:^:.^-
is a wo:'k creditable in li;.' h;^l;i-; '•• ^:' ■ t" >yj">h
literature, nut •■/.'y lV.'::i a -;•■.■•:> ::-.irit ■( ttie_
tran-lalion. I'lit b.-. .:;;-e :• w.:- :'.:■ ;;:-' :■ ^r-I.^;> 'n ■•!
a Roman e!a--;c e\ ■^■.;;td ni l!;e l-."^.:-'i lar,g-.;.-_;t-.-

1 \ l-..r!

- r;i.:-.
.Tt til'- ir:i
this idea ■:.;

456

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

To adopt the criticism of Dr. Irving — "Without
pronouncing it the best version of this poem that
ever was or ever will be executed, we may at least
venture to affirm, that it is the production of a bold
and energetic writer, whose knowledge of the language
of his original, and prompt command of a copious
and variegated phraseology, qualified him for the
])erformance of so arduous a task. And whether we
consider the state of British literature at that era, or
the rapidity with which he completed the work, he
•will be found entitled to a high degree of admiration.
In either of the sister languages few translations of
classical authors had hitherto been attempted; and
the rules of the art were consec[uently little under-
stood. It has been remarked, that even in English,
no metrical version of a classic had yet appeared;
except of Boethius, who scarcely merits that appella-
tion. On the destruction of Troy, Caxton had pub-
lished a kind of prose romance, which he professes
to have translated from the French: and the English
reader was taught to consider this motely composi-
tion as a version of the .Kncid. Douglas bestows
-severe castigation on Caxton for his presumptuous
tleviation from the classical story, and affirms that
Ills work no more resembles Virgil, than the devil is
like St. Austin. He has, however, fallen into one
error, which he exposes in his predecessor; proper
names are often so transfigured in his translation
that they are not, without much difficulty, recog-
nized. In many instances he has been guilty of
modernizing the notions of liis original. The sibyl,
for example, is converted into a nun, and admonishes
-•Eneas, the Trojan baron, to persist in counting his
beads. This plan of reducing every ancient notion
to a clerical standard has been adopted by much
later writers; many preposterous instances occur in
the learned Dr. Blackwell's memoirs of the court of
Augustus.

"Of the general principles of translation, however,
Douglas appears to have formed no inaccurate notion.
For the most part, his version is neither rashly licen-
tious nor tamely literal. . . . Though the merit of
such a performance cannot be ascertained by the in-
spection of a few detached passages, it maybe proper
to exhibit a brief specimen; —

Facilis descensus Averni,
N^ctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis;
.S^d revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras,
H )C opus, hie labor est; pauci quos a;quus amavit
jLipiter, aut ardens evexit ad a;thera virtus,
I lis geniti, potuere. 'I'encnt media omnia silvas,
Cucytusque sinu labens circumfluit atro.

ViKGIL.

It is richt facill and eith gate, I the tell,

For to descend and pass on doun to hell:

'J'he bl.ack yettis of Piuto and that dirk way

Standis cvir open and patent nycht and day:

]!ot therefra t'l return agane on hicht,

And here abouc rccouir this airis licht.

That is difficill werk, there laboure lyis.

Full few there bene quhom heicli aliouc the skyis

'I'harc ardent vertew has rasit and upheit.

Or yet quhame equalc Jupiter deifyit,

'I'hay quhilkis bene ^endrit of g^ddis, may thiddcr attane.

All the midway is wildernes vnplanc.

Or wilsum forrest; and the laitldy fl\ide

t'ocytus with his dresy bosuni vnrude

Flowis enuiron round about that place.

r)oir;i.AS."

Mr. Warton pronounces for judgment ii])on Dtnig-
la^' A-liicid, that it "is executed with equal spirit and
fidelity, and is a jjroof that the Lowland Sc(jtch and
English languages were then nearly the same. I
mean the style of composition; more es])ecially, in
the glaring affectation of anglicizing Latin words."'

It is not, however, in the tran.slation that the chief

1 History of English Poetry, ii. 201, 2.

merit lies. The poet has gained much greater praise
for the original poetry scattered through the book.
To an ordinary reader, the plan of the work may be
best described by a reference to the structure of Mar-
mioit, which is decidedly an imitation of it. To every
book is prefixed what Douglas calls a prologue, con-
taining some descriptions or observations of his own,
and some of which afford delightful glimpses of his
personal character and habits. Those most admired
are the prologue to the seventh book, containing a
description of winter; that to the twelfth book, con-
taining a description of a summer morning; and that
to the thirteenth (supplementary) book, which de-
scribes an evening in June. It would appear that
the author, in these and other cases, sought to relax
himself from the progressive labour of mere transla-
tion, by employing his own jxietical powers on
what he saw at the time around him. Air. Warton
speaks of Milton's U Alkgro and // Pciiscroso as
among the earliest descrijjtive poems produced in
England. Whether he be correct or not, we may
at least affirm, that Douglas, in his prologues to the
books of Virgil, has given Scotland the credit of
producing poems of that kind more than a century
earlier.

These compositions being of such importance in
Scottish literature, it seems proper in this place to
present a specimen sufficient to enable the reader to
judge of their value. It is difficult, however, to
pitch upon a passage where the merit of the poetry
may be obvious enough to induce the reader to take
a little trouble in comprehending the language.^ We
have with some hesitation pitched upon the follow-
ing passage from the prologue to the seventh book,
which, as descriptive of nature in a certain aspect in
this country, is certainly very faithful and even
picturesque: —

'The firmament owrecast with cludis black;
The ground fadit, and faugh'* wox all the fieldis
]\Iountane toppis slekit with snaw owre heildis:
On raggit rockis of hard harsh quhyn stane,
With frostyn frontis cald clynty clewis schane:
]<ewty was lost, and barrand shew the landis
With frostis hore, owerfret the fieldis standis.
Thick drumly skuggis* dirkinit so the hevin,
IJim skyis oft furth warpit fearful levin, 5
Flaggis'' of fyrc, and mony felloim flaw.
Sharp soppis of sleit and of the swyppand snaw:
'Jhc dolly dichis w.ar al douk and wate,
'I'he low dales all flodderit all with spate,
'I'he plane strctis and every hie way
Full of fluschis, dubbis, myre, and clay.

Owr craggis and the frontis of rockys sere,
Hang gret yse schokkilis, lang as ony spere;
'J'he grund stude barrane, widderit, dosk, and gray
Herbis, flowris, and gersis wallowit away;
Woddis, forrestis, with naket bewis blout,
Stude stripit of their wede in every bout;
So bustouslie Boreas his Inigill blew,
'the dere full dome full-in the dailis drew;

The waiter lynnys routes, and every lynd
(Juhistlit and brayit iif tlie southend wynd:
I'ure lauboraris and byssy husbandmen,
\\ ent wect and wery draiglit in the fen;
The silly sheep and thare little hird-gromes
Lurkis under lye of bankis, woddis, and brumes;
And uthcris dautit greter bestial
Within thare stabill sesit in thare st.all.

The caller air. penetrative and [lurc,
1 lasmg the blude in every creature.

- \S'ell do I recollect, in earlv days, borrfiwing old Ciavin's
translation from a circulating library, in order to steal a sly
march upon my class-fellows in version-making. What was
my disappointment on finding tli:it the copy was a great deal
more unintelligible than the original, and that, in reality, he
nf St. Oiles stood more in need of a translator than lie of
Mantua'

" Fallow. ■* Shadows. '•' Lightning. '' Flakes.

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

457

Made seik warm stovis and bene fyris hole,
In doubill garment cUid, and wc!ccote,
With mychty drink, and metis comfortive,
Aganis the stern winter for to strive.
Kepattiritl wele, and by the chymnay bekit,
At evin bctym doun in the bed they strekit,
Warpit my hede, kest on claithis thrynefald,
For to expcll the perillous persand cald:
1 crossit me, syne bownit lor to sleep:

* «* * » • ♦

Approaching near the brcking of the day,
Within my lied I walkynint quh.ire I lay;
So fast declynes Cynthia the mone,
And kayis keklys on the nife abone,

Fast by my chalmer, on hie wisnet treis,
The sary gled quhissilis with mony ane pew,
(Juharhy the day was dawing wiel I knew;
Cade bete the fyre and the candill alicht.
Syne blessit me, and in my wedis dycht;
Ane schot-windo^ unschet, ane litel on char,
Persavyt the morning blae, wan, and har,
Wyth cbudy gum and rak owirquhelmyt the air;

Rlaiknyt schew the brayis,

With hirstis harsk of waggand wyndil strayis.

The dew-droppis congelit on stibbil and vynd,

And sharp hailstanys mortfundyit of kynd,

Stoppand on the thack, and on the causay by:

The schote I closit, and drew inward in hy;

Cheverand of cald, the sessoun was sa sncll,

Schafe with hait (lambis to steme the freezing fell.

And as I bounit me to the fire me by,

I'.aith up and downe the house I did espy;

And seeand Virgil on ane letteron' stand.

To wryte anone I eynt my pen in hand,

And as 1 culd, with ane fald diligence

This nint buke fullowand of profjund science,

Thus has begun in the chill wynter cald,

(Juhen frostis dois owir flete baith firth and fald."

The poet concludes liis description of the month
of Nfay in the twelfth prologue with the following
fine apo.->trophe: — •

''Welcum the lord of licht. and lampe of day,
Wolcuni fosterare of tender herbis grene,
Wclcuin <|uickener of llurot iVjuris schcne,
Welcu:n support of every rule and vane,
Welcum Comfort of all kind frute and grane,
Welcum the hirdis beild upon the brier,
^\'elcum maister and ruler of the year,
Welcum weilfare of husbands at ihi plcwis,
Welcum repairer of woddis, treis, and bewis,
Welcum depainter of the blomyt medis.
Welcum the lyf of every thing that spedis,
Welcum storare of all kmd bestial,
Welcum be thy bricht beams gladand all 1"

It remains to be mentioned that the translation
of Virgil, being written at a time when printing
hardly existed in Scotland, continued in manuscript
till long after the death of I>ishop Douglas, and was
first published at London in 1 553, at the same time
with the Palicc of Honour. The work bore the fol-
lowing title: T/'u'xIii. Bukes of Rncados of the I-ai)tose
Poet I 'ir;j;i!l. Translaict oitl of Latviw J Wscs into
Srott/s/i Mdcr. by the Rr.'creiid Father' m God, Maystcr
Cid-ii'tn Doit^^las, Bishop of Dutihei, and Uiikil to the
J\rlc of Airbus. Eiicry Biikc halting hys Particular
Proloj^ue. \ second edition was printed at Kdin-
biugh in I 7 10, by the celebrated Thomas Ruddiman,
with a life by ISi^liop Sage. Even this later impres-
sion is now rarely met with.

The Karl of .Vngus was at this time possessed of
great intluence at court, in virtue of wdiich he filled
the office of chief magistrate of the city. Less than
two months after ( iavin Douglas had finished his
translation, the ivible iirovost and all his retainers
accompanied King J.imes <m\ the fatal expedition
which terminated in the fiattle of Llodden. Here
the poet's t\vo i.-ld.er brothers, the Master of Angus
and Sir William Douglas of (ilenbcrvie, fell, with
200 "cntlemen of their name. The earl himself had

1 Well sohce i v
the fronts of oiJ w\

= A l:ind of sliding pan
= 1 lesk.

previously withdrawn from the expe<Iition, on account
of an unkind expression used by liis imprudent sove-
reign. He died, however, within a twelvemonth
thereafter, of grief, leaving his titles and immense
territorial influence to llie heir of his eldest deeea.sed
son, and who was consequently nephew to the pro-
vost of St. Giles. It is curious to find that, on the
30th of Septeml)er, only three weeks after his country
had experienced one of the greatest disasters recorded
in her history, and by which himself had lost two
brothers and many other friends, the poet was ad-
mitted a burgess of Kdini)urgh. This fact was dis-
covered by Sil)bald in the council register, with the
phrase added, fro commune hono vilLe, i^ratu. l>ut
perhaps there is some mistake as to ilie date, the
register of that period not being original, but ap-
parently a somewhat confused transcript.

The consequences of this fatal battle seemed at
first to open up a path of high political influence to
Gavin Douglas. His nephew, being as yet very
young, fell in some measure under his tutelage, as
the nearest surviving relation. The queen, w ho had
been appointed regent for her infant son James V.,
in less than a year from her husband's death, was
pleased to marry the young Earl of .\ngus, who
accordingly seemed likely to become the actual
governor of the kingdom. The step, however, w as
unpopular, and at a convention of the nobles it was
resolved, rather than obey so young a member of
their own body, to call in the Duke of .Albany, cousin
to the late king. This personage did not rerdize the
expectations which had been fonned respecting him;
and thus it hajipened, that for some years the chief
power alternated between him and Angus. Some-
times the latter individual enjoyed an influence de-
puted to him in the ciueen's name by the duke, w ho
occasionally found it necessary to retire to ]• ranee.
At other times, both the queen and her husband
were oldiged to take refuge in England, where, on
one of these occasions, was born their only child.
Margaret Douglas, destined in future years to be the
mother of Lord Darnlev, the husband of (Jueeii
.\Lai-y.

The fortunes and domestic haj-jpincss of our jioet
appear to have been deeply affected by tlin^c "t his
nephew. Soon after the battle of 1- lodden. the queen
conferred ujion him the abbacy of .\l)crbruth(ick,
vacant liy the death of .Alexander StL'\\an. the late
king's natural son. In a letter a<l'irc-~cd by her
grace to l'o]ie Leo X. she extols Duv.glas n- -eciiud
to none in learning ar.d virtue, and larne-tly re-
quests that he may be confirmed in ib.e ]M.--e~si(in
of this abbacy till his singular merit- slmuid lie re-
wardetl with some more anqile cn(!i>wmcnt. So. 'U
after she conferred on him the arch! 'i-b.'sric ot .^t.
.Andrews, which, if confirmed, wor.l.i lia\e ] !,;L\'i
him at the head of the Scottish cluinli. Lr.t tl;e
([ueen and her husband were not pow enr.
enough to secure him in this sjileiidid --.i;
was fust intruded on by one Jnhn 1!l
had been appointed by tlie cluq^tcr. wv.'
he and Hepburn were (ii-] laced Iv ;:
favour of Fornian. the lii-liovi ct Mim\.
ambitious churchman, who had I'cc;! ; ,
to Pope lulius H. I )(i;;g!a-. w a- ;-.t ;''.■
deprived of the alibacy of .\W\\'->'\\\"X.
that, although tl;e-c lii-'.^nte- wjr- c.;r
strength ^A ami- i';i all -: le-. 1 :<■ ; "l'.
aiwavs aver-e to ]i>>-'i.e m-.-a-;::'.'-.
rather have abaivioiieii !'.;-. a-,:; ■.•"1:1-:

lie

-..iric

til

le

!: at;
1 ' ,'

(. ."

,.

'-i-'/if

\\

,' . w

a

reriroac 1 upi>:i h;- |
hither'o failed \>^ \-^ ■■
him, ;n 151 5. t' be 1'

j occa.-iun, t'j iii.-.ke -\^

W K_\

458

GAVIX DOUGLAS SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

gift was, by the influence of her brother Henry
VIIL, procured from the pope. In those days,
however, a rij^ht which would suffice one day might
not answer the ni'xt ; and so it proved witii Gavin
Douglas. The Duke of Albany, who arrived in
May, 15 15, though he had protected the right of
Archbishop Formnn on the strength of a papal bull,
not only found it convenient to dispute that title in
the case of Douglas, but actually imprisoned the poet
for a year, as a punishment for having committed
an act so detrimental to the honour of the Scottish
church. In the meantime, one Andrew Stewart,
brother to the Earl of Athole, and a partisan of
Albany, got himself chosen bishop by the cha])ter,
and was determined to hold out the cathedral against
all wliatsoever. Gavin Douglas, when released, was
actually obliged to lay a formal siege to his bishopric
before he could obtain possession. Having gone to
Dunkeld, and published his bull in the usual form
at the altar, he found it necessary to hold the en-
suing entertainment in the dean's house, on account
of liis palace being garrisoned by the servants of
Andrew Stewart. The steeple of the cathedral was
also occupied as a fortress by these men, who pre-
tended to be in arms in the name of the governor.
Next day, in attemining to go to church, he was
hindered by the steeple garrison, who fired briskly
at his party: he had therefore to perform service in
the dean's iiouse. To increase his dil'ficulties, Stewart
had arrived in person, and put himself at the head
of the garrison. His friends, however, soon col-
lecte<l a f)rce in the neighbouring country, with
which they forced Stewart to submit. The governor
was afterwards ])revailed upon to sanction the
right of Gavin Douglas, who gratified Stewart by
two of the best benefices in the diocese.

In 15 17, when Albany went to France in order to
renew the ancient league between Scotland and that
country, he took Douglas and Panter as his secre-
taries, his object being in the former case to have a
hostage for tiie good behaviour of the Earl of Angus
during his absence.' However, when the negotia-
tion was fini.-.hcd, tlie Bisliop of Dunkeld is said to
have been sent to Scotland with the news. He cer-
tainly returned long before the governor himself.
After a short stay at Edinburgh, he repaired to his
diocese, where he employed himself for some time
in the diligent discliarge of his duties. He was a
warm jiromoter of public undertakings, and, in ]:>ar-
licuiar, finished a st(jne bridge over the Tay (op-
j>o-;ite to his own jialace) which had been begun by
his predece-Mjr. He spent so much money in this
manner, and in cliarity, tliat he became somewliat
embarra>v.-i willi debt. During the absence of tlie
Duke of Albany, his nej)liew Angus maintained a
constant struggle witli the rival family of Hamilton,
then l)earing the title of Earl of Arran, which f Mined
a great part of the governor's strength in Scotland.
In .\prii, 1520, Ijuth parties met in Edinburg!), de-
termined to try whicli was mo-,1 ]V)werfuI. Tiie
liishop of Dunkeld, seeing that blooiUhed was
threatened, used his intluence with Archbishop
Beaton of Glasgow, who was a ]iartisan of .Xnan;
when that prelate, striking his hand on liis breast,
asseverated, on his conscience, that he knew nothing
of the hostile intentions of his friend^. He had in
reality as^ntned armour under lii-> gown, in order to
take a per-^nnal concern in the fray, and his hand
caused the hreaitidate to make a rattling nnise.
"Methinks," said J)ouglas, with admirable sarcasm,
"your con-cience clatters ;" a phrase tliat might be
interpreted either into an allusion to the noise itself.

•.-■A by Dr. liiznry. — History of Great Dntain.

or to what it betrayed of the archbishop's intentions.
Douglas retired to his own chamber to pray, and in
the meantime his nephew met and overthrew the
forces of the Earl of Arran. The bishop afterwards
saved Beaton from being slain by the victors, who
seized him at the altar of the Blackfriars' Church.
Gavin Douglas probably .entertained a feeling of
gratitude to this dignitary, notwithstanding all his
duplicity; for Beaton had ordained him at Glasgow^
and borne all the expenses of the ceremony out of
his own revenues.

The Earl of Angus was now re-established in
power, but it was oidy for a short time. Albany
returned next year, and called him and all his re-
tainers to an account for their management of affairs.
The earl, with his nephew and others, was obliged
to retire to England. The Bishop of Dunkeld ex-
perienced the most courteous attention at the court
of Henry VHL, who, with all his faults, was cer-
tainly a patron of literature. \Ve are informed by
Holingshed that Douglas received a pension from
the English monarch. In London he contracted
a friendship with Polydore Virgil, a learned Italian,
who was then engaged in comjjosing a history of
England. It is supposed that the bishop assisted
him with a little memoir on the origin of the Scottish
nation. Here, however, our poet was suddenly cut
off by the plague, in 1521 or 1522, and was Iniried
in the Savoy Church, where he had an epitaph in-
scribed on the adjacent tomb of Bishop Halsay. It
is painful to think that, in consequence of the intes-
tine divisions of his country, this illustrious and most
virtuous person died a denounced traitor in a foreign
land.

The only other poem of any extent by Gavin
Douglas, is one entitled King Ilai-t, which was
probably written in the latter part of his life, and
contains what Dr. Irving styles "a most ingenious
adumbration of the progress of human life." It was
first j)rinted in Pinkcrton's collection oi Ancient Scot-
tish Poems, 1 786.

DOUGLAS, Sir James, one of the most remark-
able men of the heroic age to which lie belonged,
and the founder of one of the most illustrious houses
in .Scotland, was the eldest son of William Douglas,
a baron or magnate of Scotland, wlio died in Englantl
about the year 1302.

The ancestry of this fimily has been but imper-
fectly traced by most genealogists; but it now seems
to be established that the original founder came into
this country from Flanders, about the year 1147;
and, in reward of certain services, not explained,
which he performed to the abbot of Kelso, receivetl
from that ])re!ate a grant of lands on the ^\'ater of
l)f)Uglas, in Lanarkshire. In this assignation, a
record of wliich is yet extant, he is st)]ed Theol)aldus
Flammaticirs, or Theoliald the Fleming. William,
the son and heir of Theoliald, assumed the surname
of Douglas, from his estate. Archiliald de Douglas,
hiseldestson, succeeded in the family estate on Douglas
Water. Bi'icius, a younger son of William, became
Bishopof .Moray in 1203; and his four l)i-olhers, Alex-
ander, Henry, Hugh, and Freskin, settled in Moray
under his ])atronage, and from these the Douglases in
Moray claim their descent. Archibald died between,
the years 1238 and 1240, leaving behind him two
sons. William, the elder, iidieriled the estate (jfhis
father; Andrew, the younger, became the ancestor <.A
the Douglases of Dalkeith, afterwards created l^arls
of Mortfjn. William acfjuired additional lands to
the family inheritance; and, hy this means, becoming
a tenant in chief of the crown, was considered as rank-
ing among the barons, or, as they were then called,

SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

459

magnates of Scotland. He died about the year 1276,
leaving two sons, Hugh and William. Hugh fought
at the battle of Largs in 1263, and died about 1288,
without issue. William, his only brother, and father
to Sir James, the subject of the present article, suc-
ceeded to the family honours, which he did not long
enjoy; for, having espoused the popular side in the
factions which soon after divided the kingdom, he
was, upon the successful usurpation of Edward L,
deprived of his estates, and died a prisoner in Eng-
land, about the year 1302.

The young Douglas had not attained to manhood
when the captivity of his father left him unprotected,
and in this condition he retired into France, and lived
in Paris for three years. In this capital, remarkable
even in that age for the gaiety of its inhabitants, the
young Scotsman for a time forgot his misfortunes,
and gave way to the current follies by which he was
surrounded. The intelligence of his father's death,
however, was sufficient to break him ofl' from such
courses, and incite him to a more honourable and
befitting life. Having returned without delay to
Scotland, he seems first to have presented himself
to Lamberton, I>i-.hop of St. .-Vndrews, by whom he
was receive I with great kindness, and promoted to
the post of page in his household. Barbour, the
j)oet, dwells fondly upon this period in the life of
Douglas, whom he describes as cheerful, courteous,
dutiful, and of a generous disposition, insomuch
that he was esteemed and beloved by all; yet was
he not so fair, adds the same discreet writer, that
we shouKl much admire his beauty. He was of a
somewhat gray or swarthy complexion, and had
black hair, circumstances from which, especially
among the Engli-.h, he came to be known by the
name of the Black Dou.;!as. His bones were large,
l)Ut well set; his shoulders broatl, and his whole ])er-
son to be remarked as rather spare or lean, though
muscular. He was mild and pleasant in company,
or among his friends, .^nd lisped somewhat in his
speech, a circumstance which is said not at all to
have misbecome hi.n, besides that it brought him
nearer to the beau-ideal of Hector, to whom Barbour
justly compares him.

Douglas was living in thi^ manner ^\]l^.•n l-^ilw.ird,
having for the Ia>t time overrun Scotland, called
together an as.^emhly of the barons at Stirling. The
Bishop of St. Andrews attended the summons, and
taking along with him the young squire whom he
hid so generously protected, resolved, if possible, to
interest the monarch in his fortune^. Taking hold
of a suit.i'/le opportunity, the ])relate jire^ented
Douglas to tlie king, as a youth who claimed to be
admitted to his serx'ice, and entreated that his majesty
would look favouralily upon him. and restore him to
the inlu'rit.-.nce which, from no fault of his, he had
lost. " W'h U \aniU docs he claim?"' inquired Edward.
The good bi-liii]) had purpo^c-ly kept the answer to
this iiue^ti-.n to t!:o end. well knowing the vindictive
temper of the luv^H^h king, and his particular dislike
to thj memory nf the former Douglas; but he .-oo'i
saw that the haughty conqueror was neither to be
prepossessed n'lr conciliated. Edward n<i sooner un-
ilerstood t'le binh I'f the suitur, than, turning

to the hi, I',
my enemy:
upon molt
prove. ' 1

sion on the mi:id of i!i

not lor.g befire an ...

ho.-tility again-t tiie 1'.:

While he vet reM 1

telligence '>t' the murder "f < '
Bruce, snread o\cr the ki".,'

he l.uher." slid he, "was alwavs '
h.ive already l.v^Mwed his lands ]
fill"wers than his s^m-- can ever i
iitY mu-t have left a <!eep inipres- j
m' llie young l)Mug!a>; an-i it \\as '
n ■■,>;a^i'>:i iiffered to ili--:>!av his

king. ■ ' ;

the bishop's palace, in-

n, ami the rev.
Lamiierlon,

..; ..t

V.llO

secretly favoured the insurrection, not only made no
<lihiculty of allowing the young Douglas to join the
party, but even assisted him with money for the pur-
l>ose. The bishoji, it is also said, directe<l him to
seize Ujion his own horse for his use, as if by violence,
from the groom; and, accordingly, that servant hav-
ing been knockefl down, Douglas, unattended, ro<Ie
off to join the standard of his future king and master.
He fell in with the party of Bruce at a place called
Errickstane, <m their jirogrcss from LoclmialH-n to-
wards (llasgow; where, making hini'^elf known to
Robert, he offered his services, hoping that, under
the auspices of his rightful sovereign, he might re-
cover possession of his own inheritance. liruce,
well pleased with his spirit and l>earing, and iriter-
ested in his welfare as the son of the gallant ^ir
William Douglas, received him with much favour,
giving him, at the same time, a comnian<l in his
small army. This was the commencement of the
friendship between Bruce and Douglas, than which
none more sincere and perfect ever existed between
sovereign and subject.

It would, of course, be here unntccssar)- to follow
Sir James Douglas, as we shall afterwards name him,
through the same path described in the life of his
heroic master; as in that, all which it iini>oris the
reader to know has been already detaded. ( )f tlie
battle of Methven, therefore, in whieh the )oung
knight first signalized his valour; that of Dairy, in
which Robert was defeated by the Lord of Loni, and
.Sir James wounded; the retreat into Rachrin; the
descent upon .\rran, and afterwards on the coast of
Carrick; in all of which enterjirises the zeal, courage,
and usefulness of Douglas were manifested, we shall
in this place take no other notice, than by referring
to the life of Bruce himself Leaving these more
general and important movements, we shall fnllnw
the course of our narrative in others more exclusively
referable to the life and fortunes of Douglas.

While RoI)ert the Bruce was engaged in rou-ing
the men of Carrick to his cau--e, Douglas wn- ]>er-
mitted to repair to Douglasdale, for the |nirj..i^e ot
drawing over the attached vassals of his fiimily to tl:e
same interest, as well as of avenging some of the par-
ticular wror.gs himself an<l family had -ustaincil U'V.i
the English. Disgui--ed, therefore, and. acconipar.ie i
by only two yecnien. Sir James, towariU the clo-e
of an evening in the month of .March. I 307, reached
the alieiiated irdieritance (■( hi^ hnu-e. tlien nv.i.^d
by the Lord Clifford, who had ) -...ted within the
castle of Douglas a s'r^r.g garrison of Eng'i-h
soldiers. Having revealed him-elf tn i.::e 'Ih'.ma--
Dickson, formerly his father's vassal, and a ] ers'.n of
considerable inlluence among the ter.aiury. .<ir Jame^
and his two fillnwers were io\ fully welcomed. c.)aI
concealed within his hou^e. ]'>y thi- faithful (iepei-.-
dant Douglas was snun made ac.,uair,te'i witi; the
number> of tho^e in the neighl"uir!i<'i .d wl-,i> w.-uM
be willing to join liim; a:'.d tlie m^re in- r'ar.i 1 :
these being brought secretly, and by (.tie ir tu.. r.-. ..
time, before him. he received their jc- :_ • ~ ! ' •'.".■.
him to the ulm<i--t of tlv-ir p.iwer. ll..\ ■:g tl::- -• -
cured the assj-tance of a ^rnall hut :\ -■ c-.' I /.i. .
Sir James determined to execute a i-v. >.: he i;a i
planned for the sur;iri-al "f -.he ca-: ■ . I he l-^;-
rison, entirely ignorant o| the-'' inai.'i;:, .-.•.'. .;,-. c.r. .
other\vi-e (.\r froui \:gilan". otlvr. 1 !:'.a:\ . : : ■ rtu:;;-
ties which might be tak^n a :va-:;a^e . ;. dl.c'kv.-
of Palm Sundav. ho-,\^-,cr, v..-.- I.\..d up. :i !y
Dou.;las. a^ heiny l!;e:i n :.■: :.l !;a:: :. a: •: a- !;;n'-:.-
iiig bcsi Ks a pl:i'>;lle p:\;r\: 1 r :he ^.-•'.er;:^; :■ -
gether ..f hi- n.^u-ren;-. dhe -arri-.n. i: wa- tx-

ia tile neii^iil.oui;:.., cliurJl ol M. Br; .e. 1 :ie :■ .-

463

SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

lowers of Douglas, having arms concealed, were
some of them to enter the building along with the
soldiers, while the others remained without to prevent
their escape. Douglas himself, disguised in an old
tattered mantle, having a flail in his hand, was to
give the signal of onset, by shouting the war-cry
of his family. When the day arrived, the whole
garrison, consisting of thirty men, went in solemn
jirocession to the church, leaving only the porter and
the cook within the castle. The eager followers of
the knight did not wait for the signal of attack;
for, no sooner had the unfortunate Englishmen
entered the chapel, than one or two raising the cry
of "A Doujliis! a DouglasP^ which was instantly
echoed and returned from all quarters, they fell with
the utmost fury upon the entrapped garrison. These
defentled themselves bravely till two-thirds of their
number lay either dead or mortally wounded. Being
refused quarter, those who yet continued to fight
were speedily overpowered and made prisoners, so
that none escaped. Meanwhile, five or six men
were detached to secure possession of the castle gate,
which tliey easily effected: and being soon after fol-
lowed by Douglas and his partisans, the victors had
now only to deliberate as to how they should use their
conquest. Considering the great power and numbers
of tlie English in that district, and tlie impossibility
of retaining the castle should it be besieged, they re-
solved to destroy it. This measure was stained by
an act of singular barbarity, which, however consistent
with the rude and revengeful spirit of the age, re-
mains the sole stigma which even his worst enemies
couKl ever affix to the memory of Sir James Douglas.
Having plundered and stripped the castle of every
article of value, the great mass of provisions was
hea])ed together within an apartment of the building;
over this pile were stored the puncheons of wine,
ale, and other liquors, which the cellar contained;
anti, lastly, the prisoners who had been taken in the
church, having been despatched, their dead bodies
were thrown over all; thus, in a spirit of savage
jocularity, converting the whole into a loathsome
collection, then, and long after, popularly described
by the name of the Dong/as^ Larder. These savage
jireparations gone through, the castle was set on fire,
and burned to the ground.

No sooner was Clifford advertised of the fate of
his garrison, than, causing the castle to be rebuilt
more strongly than ever, he left a new garrison in it
under the command of one Thirhvall, and returned
himself into England. Douglas, while these opera-
tions proceeded, lurked in the neighbourhood, intend-
ing, on tlie first safe opportunity, to rejoin the king's
standard. No sooner, however, had the Lord Clif-
ford departed, than he resolved, a second time, to
attem])l the siirprisal of his castle, under its new
giA-ernor. Tlie garrison, having a fresh remem-
])rance of the late disaster, were not to be taken
at unawares, and some expedient was needed to
a!)ate their extreme vigilance. Tliis Dcniglas effected,
by directing some of his men, at different times,
to drive off porti(;ns of the cattle belonging to
tlie castle, but who, as soon as the garrikCMi issued
out to the rescue, were instructed tc* betake them-
selves to fligiit. The governor and his men havnig
been sufficiently irritated by tlic attem])ls of these
jireteiided plunderers, Sir James resolved, without
further delay, U])on the execution of his jiroject.
1 lavi ig formed an ambush of liis followers at a ]il;ice
called ."^an lilands, at no great distance frmn the
castle, he, at an early hour in the morning. (leta(;hc<i
a few of his men, who dro\e off some cattle from
the immediate vicinity (jf tlie walls, towards the ])!ace
where the ambuscade lav concealed, 'i'hirlwali was

no sooner apprised of the fact, than, indignant at
the boldness of the affront, he ordered a large portion
of the garrison to arm and give chase to the s]ioilers,
himself accompanying them so hastily, that he did
not take time even to put on his helmet. The pur-
suers had scarcely passed the place of ambush, when
Douglas and his followers started from their covert,
and the party found their retreat cut off. They were
ill prepared for the fierce assault which was instantly
made upon them; the greater part fled, and a few
succeetled in regaining their stronghold; but Thirl-
wall and many of his bravest soldiers were slain.
The fugitives were pursued to the castle gates; but,
having secured the entrance and manned the walls.
Sir James found it impossible to dislodge them.
Collecting, therefore, all who were willing to join
the royal cause, he repaired to the army of Bruce,
then encam])ed at Cumnock in Ayrshire. The skill
wdiich Douglas displayed in these two exploits seems
to have infected the English with an almost super-
stitious dread of his resources; so that, if we may
believe the writers of that age, few could be found
adventurous enough to undertake the keeping of
"the perilous castle of Douglas," for by that name
it now came to be distinguished.

When King Robert, shortly after his victory over
the English at Loudonhill, marched into the north
of Scotland, Sir James Douglas remained behind,
for the purpose of reducing the forests of Selkirk
and Jedburgh to obedience. His first adventure,
however, was the taking a second time of his own
castle of Douglas, then commanded by Sir John de
Wilton, an English knight, who held this charge,
as his two predecessors had done, under the Lord
Clifford. Sir James and a body of armed men
gained the neighbourhood undiscovered, and planted
themselves in ambuscade, as near as possible to the
gate of the castle. Fourteen of his best men dis-
guised as peasants wearing smock-frocks, and having
sacks filled with grass laid across their horses, were
to pass within view of the castle, as if they had been
countrymen carrying corn for sale to Lanark fair.
The stratagem had the desired effect; fjr the gar-
rison, being then scarce of provisions, the greater
part, with the governor at their head, issued out in
great haste to overtake and plunder the suiijiosed
peasants. These, finding themselves ]5ursued, ieigned
a flight, till, ascertaining that the unwary English-
men had passed the ambush, they suddenly threw
down their sacks, stripped off the frocks ^\hich con-
cealed their armour, mounted their horses, and with
a loud battle-cry turned on the assailants. Douglas
and his ambuscade no sooner heard their shout,
which was the concerted signal of onset, than start-
ing into view in the rear of the English party, these
found themselves at once unexpectedly attacked from
two opposite (|uarters. In this desj^erate encounter,
their retreat to the castle being eiTectually cut off,
Wilton and his whole party are reported to have
been slain. When this successful exploit was ende<l.
Sir James gained ])(«session of the castle, ])rol)ably
by negotiation, as he allowed the garrisr)n to depart
unmolested into I'jigland, furnishing them, at the
same time, with money to defray their charges. Har-
bour relates, that upon the person of the slain knight
there was fjund a letter from his mistress, informing
him that he might well consider himself w<jrthy ol
her love, should he bravely defend for a year the
adventurous castle of Douglas. Sir James razed the
fortress to tlie ground, tiiat it might on no fiiture
occasion afford ]irotection to the lingli^h.

Leaving tiie scene where lie had tlius, for the third
time, triumphed, Douglas ])roceeded to the forests
of Selkirk and Jedburgh, both of which he in a short

SIR JAMKS DOUGLAS.

4C1

time reduced to the king's authority. While cin-
ployel upon this service, he chanced one day, to-
wards niglit-fall, to come in sight of a solitary hciuse
on the Water of Line, towards which he directed
his course, with the intention of there resting him-
self and his followers till morning. Approaching
the place witli some caution, he could distinguish,
from the voices within, that it was pre-occupied;
and fr<jm the oaths which mingled in the conversa-
tion, he had no doubt as to the character of the
guests it contained, military men being then,
almost exclusively, addicted to swearing.* Having
beset the house and forced an entrance, his conjec-
ture proved well founded; for, after a sharp contest
with the inmates, he was fortunate enough to secure
the persons of .Alexander .Stuart, Lord Bonkle, and
Thomas Randolph, the king's nephew; who were at
that time not only attached to the English interest,
but engaged in raising forces to check the progress
of Douglas in the south of .Scotland. The important
consequences of this action, by which Bruce gained
as wise and faithful a counsellor as he ever possessed,
and Douglas a rival, though a generous one, deserves
a particular notice. Immediately upon this adven-
ture, Douglas, carrying along with him his two
prisoners, rejoined tiie king's forces in the north;
where, under his gallant sovereign, he assisted in
the victory gained over the Lord of Lorn, by which
the Highlands were reduced to suljmission.

Witliout following those events in which Douglas
cither participated, or bore a principal part, we come
to the relation of one more exclusively his own.
The castle of Roxburgh, a fortress of great import-
ance on the borders of .Scotland, had long l)een in
the hands of the Engli.-,ii king, by whom it was
stron;^lv garrisonetl, and cf)mmitted to the charge of
(jillemin de Fiennes, a knight of Burgundy. Douglas
and his followers, to the number of about sixty men,
then lurked in the adjoining forest of Jedburgh, where
thev did not remain long inactive. A per-;(;n of the
name of -Simon of the Leadhouse was employed by
the Douglas to construct rope-ladders for scaling the
walls of the castle, and the night of Shrove 'I'ues-
day, then near at hand, was fixed upon as the most
])roper for putting the project in execution; "for
then," says Fordun, "all the men, from dread of the
Lent season, which was to begin next day, indulged
in wine and licentiousness." When the appointed
night arrived, Douglas and his followers apjjroached
the castle, wearing black frocks or shirts over th.eir
armour, that they might be concealed from the ob-
servation of the sentinels. On getting near the walls
they crejit onwards on their hands and knees; and
a sentinel having observed their indistinct crawling
forms, remarked to his companion that fanner such
a one (naming a husbandman who lived in the
neighbourhood) surely made good cheer that night,
seeing that he tonk so little care of his cattle. " He
mav nial<e merry to-nig!u, comi'.ule," ilie other re-
plied, "but if tlie ]?lack I )ouglas come at them he
will fare the w()r>e another time." Sir James and
his folldwers had ajiproached so clo>e to the ca>tle
as distinctly ti> overhear this disco\irse. and als.i to
mark with cert.iinty the dejiarture of tlie men. Tlie
wall was no sooner free of their presence than ."■^imoii
of the Leadhouse, I'lxing one of the ladders, was the

1 \Vc b.ivc the .luthirity iif Harbour f.^r the ali-.vc curi lus
f.ict. iii^ uorJs are thc--e:

"An 1 .as ho cuiie with his mcn/ye [force>]
Ner hand the h^ii^-.. sa ly^nyt he.
Aii-1 har.l ane say tharin. ' f/;<- i.-V:<';VV,' '
And be that he persawit (jicrceived) ucii!
That thai war stranc men. that thar
Tliat nycht ti'.ann iicr!oryit war."

Uarbour's Bntcf, b. ix. I. CS4.

first to mount. This was perceived by one of the
garrison so soon as he rtracned the top of the wall;
but giving the startle<l soldier no tinie to raise an
alami, .Simon sudrlcnly des])atched him with his
d.igger. .Simon had then to sustain the attack cf
another antagonist, whom also he laid dead at his
feet; and .Sir James and his men, having sunnounted
the wall, the loud shout of ".-7 D^ui;^lai'. a Doiii^las!"
and the rush of the enemy into the hall, where the
garrison yet maintained their revels, gave the first
intimation that the fortress was taken. L'narme<i,
bewildered, and most of them intoxicated, they could
make little resistance, and in this state many of them
were slaughtered. The governor and a few others
escaped into the kec]) or great tower, which they
defended till the following clay; but having sustained
a severe arrow-wound in the face, (iilleininde Fienne-;
surrendered, on condition that he and his remaining
followers should be allowed to flepart into England.
This event, which fell out in March, 131 3. greatly
increased the terror of the Douglas' name in the north
of England; while in an e(|ual degree it infused
spirit anrl confidence into the hearts of the .'scots.
Barbour attributes the successful cajiture of Edin-
burgh Castle by Randolph, an exploit of greater
peril, and, on that account only, of superior gallantr/
to the preceding, to the noble emulation with which
the one general regarded the deeds of the other.

The next occasion wherein Douglas signalized
himself was on the field of Bannockbum; in whicli
memorable battle he had the signal honour of corn-
mantling the centre division of the Scottish van.
When the fortune of that great day was decided by
the complete overthrow of the English, Sir James,
at the head of sixty horsemen, pursued closely on
the track of the fleeing monarch for upwards of forty
miles, and only desisted from the inability of his
horses to proceed further. In the same year King
Robert, desirous of profiting l)y the wide-spread
dismay of the ICnglish, despatched his brotlier Ed-
ward and Sir James Douglas, by the eastern marches,
into England, where they ravaged and assessed .-.i
will the whole northern counties of that kingdom.

When Bmce passed over with an army into Ire-
land, in the month of May, 1316, to reinforce his
brother Fidward's arms in that country, he com-
mitted to .^ir James Douglas tlie charge of th:"
middle borders during his ab>er.ce. The E.irl ol
.\rundel apjiears at the same time to have corr.-
manded on the eastern and middle marches of h'.r.g-
land, lying opposite to the district umler the charge
of Doughs. The carl, encouraged by the ab-ence
of the .Scottish king, and still more by informati'.n
which led him to believe that Sir J;ime- DougLis
was then unprejiared. resolved to take tl;i> wily enemy
at advantage. For this ]>urpo-e lie c^ ''.lectel. \Mth
secrecy ami de-p.itch, an nrniy of 10.000 nie:;.
DiiUg'as, who had just completed the erecti'm 'il b.;-
cas'.le or m.-mor-house of Lintalee. near Jeiil r.r;.;!:.
in which he proposed giving a great te.v^t \n !.-,
military followers and vas-.il-. w.-.- 1-1 t pre; are! :■>_
encounter such a force; but. from tlie ir.tcl i^-er.ce . ;
his spies in the eneni}'- camp, he ";> rot .-I:^igrt.i-. r
to be taken bv sviq.ri-e. A^.^^re 'f :h- r '.:'e i'-"
which the English wnxxVx advance, he c-iiec'e«i iii^ai!
haste a consi/ieralile liody ..f ,ircl;e:-. .-:'.•: .d' -vA t.;;y
inen-at-arnis, .ir.d with tlie-e t""!: v-"< '.r. a:i e\;cr.-i\e
thi.ketofjedhurgli Fnre-;. d"h- ; a-.^g-' • t ■ ■] enirg
through tlie woo'i at thi~ p'.u'c wi :•• .-.r.'i o':r.e:d"M
at the southern extremity. iiV whivli j!;e l-.i^g'i-ii
were to enter narrowe 1 n- i: p.i; r ac'ied the ,-.1:1-
Inidi, till in bread'li i: ■::•! '.vx cN^eed a .:uo:t s
pitch, or ali^ut twen-y yard^. B'ac-:- the a-dieis
in a holl<jv.- ; -iece ';■:" gr'-und uu cr.e s; .e ol tr.c pa-.

4^2

SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

Douglas effectually secured them from the attack of
the enemy's cavalry by an entrenchment of felled
tree?, and by knitting together the branches of the
young birch-trees with wliich the thicket abounded.
lie himself took post, with his small body of men-
at-arms, on the other side of the pass, and there
jiatiently awaited the enemy. These preparations
having been made witli great secrecy, the English
unsuspectingly entered the narrow part of the defile:
they seem even to have neglected the ordinary rules
for preserving the proper array of their ranks, these
becoming gradually compressed and confused as the
body advanced. In this manner, unable to form,
and from tlie pressure in the rear equally unable
to retreat, the van of the army offered an unresisting
mark to the concealed archers; who, opening upon
them with a volley of arrows in front and flank,
first made them aware of their danger. Douglas, at
the same moment bursting from his ambush, and
raising his terrible war-cry, furiously assailed the
surprised and disordered English, a great many of
whom were slain. .Sir James himself encountered
in this warm onset a brave foreign knight, named
Thomas de Richemont, whom he slew by a tlirust
with his d.agger; taking from him, by way of trophy,
a furred cap which it was his custom to wear over
his helmet. The English having at length made
good their retreat into the open country, Douglas
was too wary to follow them. Indeed, he had
service of a still more immediate nature yet to per-
form. Learning that a body of about 300 English,
under the command of a person named EUies, had,
by a different route, penetrated to Lintalee, Sir James
hastened thither. This parly, finding the house
deserted, had t.iken possession of it, as also of the
good things provided for the feast, nothing doubting
of the com]5lete victory which Arundel would achieve
over Douglas and his few followers. In this state
of security, having neglected to set watches, they
were unexpectedly assailed by their dreaded enemy,
and put to tlie sword, with the exception of a very
few who escaped. The fugitives having gained the
camp of Amndel, that commander was so daunted
by this new disaster, that he retreated back into his
own country and dislianded his forces.

Among the other encounters on the borders at this
time we must not omit one, in which the characteristic
valour of the good Sir James unquestionably gained
him the victory. Sir Edmund de Cailand, a knight
of Gascony, whom King Edward had appointed
governor of Berwick, desirous of signalizing himself
i 1 tile service of that monarch, had collected a con-
siderable force, with which he ravaged nearly the
wlK^le district of Teviot. As he was returning to
I'erwick loaded with spoil, the Douglas, who had
intimation (;f his movements, determined to interce))t
him. Lor this purpose he hastily collected a small
body of troops; but, on approaching the ])arty of
Cailand, he foun'l them so much superior, tliat he
was obliged to pau^e. The (iascon knight instantly
j)re])ared fjr Ijattle; and a severe confliet ensued, in
which it seemed very doubtfid whether the .Scots
should be able to withstand the numbers and Ijravery
of their assailants. iJouglas. fearful of the i^siie,
])ressed forward with incredible energy, and, encoun-
tering Sir Efimund de Cailand, slew him with his
own hand. The l->nglish, discouraged by the lo.^s of
their leader, and no longer ai)le to withstand the
ardour with which this gallant deed of Sir James had
inspired his men, soon fell into confusion, and were
put to flight with considerable slaughter. The booty,
which, previously to the engagement, h.ad been s nt
on towards Berwick, was wholly recovered by the
Scots.

Following upon this success, and in some measure
connected with it, an event occurred singularly illus-
trative of the chivalric spirit of that age. .Sir Ralph
Neville, an English knight who then resided at Ber-
wick, feeling his nation dishonoured by the praises
which the fugitives in the late defeat bestowed upon
the great prowess of Douglas, boastingly declared
that he would himself encounter that Scottish knight
whenever his banner should be displayed in the neigh-
bourhood of Berwick. When the challenge reached
the ears of Douglas, he determined that this rival
should not want the opportunity which he courted.
Advancing into the plain around Berwick, Sir James
there displayed his banner, calling upon Sir Ralph
at the same time, by herald, to make good his
bravado. The farther to irritate the English, he de-
tached a party of his men, who set fire to some
villages within sight of the garrison. Neville, at the
head of a much more numerous force than that of
the Scots, at length issued forth. The combat was
well contested on both sides, till Douglas, encoun-
tering Neville hand to hand, soon proved to that
brave but over-hardy knight that he had provoked
his fate, for he fell under the stronger arm of his
antagonist. This event decided the fortune of the
field. The English were completely routed, and
several persons of distinction made prisoners. Taking
advantage of the consternation caused by this vic-
tory, .Sir James wasted with fire and sword all the
country on the north side of the river Tweed which
still adliered to the English interest; and returning
in triumph to the forest of Jedburgh, divided among
his followers the rich booty he had acquired, reserv-
ing no part of it, as was his generous custom, to his
own use.

In the year 1322 the .Scots, commanded by Doug-
las, invaded the counties of Northumberland and
Durham; but no record now remains of the circum-
stances attending this invasion. In the same year,
as much by the terror of his name as by any strata-
gem, he saved the abbey of Melrose from the threat-
ened attack of a greatly superior force of the English,
who had advanced against it for the purposes of
plunder. ]jut the service by which, in that last and
most disastrous campaign of Edward II. against the
.Scots, .Sir James most distinguished himself, was, in
the attempt which he made, assisted by Randoljih, to
force a j^assage to the English camji at Biland, in
Yorkshire. In this desperate enteqiris- the military
genius of Bruce came ojiportunely to hi^ aid, and he
proved successful. Douglas, by this action, may be
said to have given a final blow to the nearly ex-
hausted energies of the we.ak and misguided govern-
ment of Edward, antl to have thus assisted in render-
ing his deposition — which soon after followed — a
matter of indiflerence, if not of satisfacti'Mi, to his
subjects.

The same active hostility which had on so many
occasions during the life of our great warrior proved
detrimental to the two first Edwards, v. as }et to be
exercised ujion the third monarch of tliat name, the
next of the race of I'higlisli usurpers over Scotland.
The truce which the necessities of his own kingdom
had extorted from Edward II. after his defeat nl
Biland having been broken, as it would seem, not
withmit the secret conniv.Tnce or approbation of the
Scottish king, b'dward 111., afterwards so famous in
I'inglish history, but then a minor, collected an im-
meuse force, intending not only to revenge the in-
fraction, but, by some decisive blow, to recover tlie
national honour. The inexjierience ol the young
monarch, however, ill seconded as that was by the
counsels of the faction which then governed ICngland,
could ])rove no match when opposed to the designs

SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

4O3

of a king so politic as Robert, and the enterprise
and consummate talent of such generals as Randolph
and Douglas.

The preparations of England, though conducted
on a great and even extravagant scale, failed in the
necessary despatcii, allowing the Scottish army, which
consisted of 20,000 light-armed cavalry, nearly a
whole month to plunder and devastate at will the
northern districts of the kingdom. Robert, during
liis long wars with England, had admirably improved
upon the severe experience which his first unfortunate
campaigns had taught him; and so well had his
.system been inured into the very natures of his cap-
tains and soldiers, that he could not be more ready
to dictate schemes of defence or aggression than his
subjects to put them in execution. He was, be-
sides, fortunate above measure in the choice of his
generals, and particularly of those two, Randolph,
Earl of Moray, and Sir James Douglas, to whose
joint command the army on the present occasion
was committed. Moray, though equally brave
and courageous with his compeer, was naturally
guided and restrained by prudential suggestions;
while Douglas, almost entirely under the sway of a
chivalrous spirit, often, by his very daring, proved suc-
cessful where the other must have failed. One cir-
cumstance deserving of ])articular commendation
must not be omitted. While in rank and reputation,
and in the present instance, command, these two
great men stood in a position singularly open to senti-
ments of envious rivalry, the whole course of their
lives gives ample ground for believing that feelings
of such a nature were utterly alien to the characters
of both.

Of the ravages of the .Scottish amiy in the north
of England during the space above-mentioned we
have no particulars recorded ; but that tliey plun-
dered all the villages and open towns in their route
seems certain, prudently avoiding to dissi]mte their
time and strength by assailing more difficult places.
To atone somewhat for this deficiency in his narrative,
Eroissart, who on this period of .Scottish history was
unquestionably directed by authentic information,
has left a curious sketch of the constitution and
economy of the Scottish army of that day. "The
peoj)le of that nation," says this author, "are l)rave
and hardy, insomuch that, when they invade Englanil,
they will often march their troops a distance of
thirty-six miles in a day and night. .-Ml are on horse-
back, exce]it only the rabble of followers, who are
a-foot. The knights and squires are well mounted
on large coursers or war-horses, but the commons
and country jieople have only small hackneys or
ponies. They use no carriages to attend their army;
and such is their abstinence and sobriety in war, that
they content themselves fir a hmg time with half-
cooked tlesh without bread, and witli water unmixed
with wine. Wlien they have slain and skinned tlie
cattle, which they always find in plenty, they make
a kind of kettles of the raw hides with the hair on,
which they su-jkmkI on four stakes over fires, with the
hair side oulni",-t; and in these they boil jiait of the
tlesh in water, ro.-i--!i!ig tiie remainder by means of
wooden sjiit-^ (li^no>ed around the same fires. Uc-
sides, they make fir themselves a species of shoes or
brogues of the same raw hides with the hair still on
tlieni. Each person carries attached to his saddle a
large Hat jilate of iron, and ha-, a bag of meal fixed
on horseback heliind him. When, by eating fiesh
cooked as befor^- dcscrihed, and without salt, they
find their stomachs weakened and uneasy, they mix
up some of the meal with water into a paste; and
h.aving heated the flat iron jilate on the fire, they
knead out the paste into thin cakes, which they bake

or fire on these heated plates. These cakes they eat
to strengthen their stomachs." Such an army would
undoubtedly possess all the requisites adapted for
desultory and predatory warfare ; while, like the
modern guerillas, the secrecy and celerity of their
movements would enable them with case to elude
any firmidable encounters with trooj.s otherwise
constituted than ihemscdves.

The English army, upon which so much prepara-
tion had been ex])ended, was at length, aecompanied
by the king in person, enal)led to take the field. It
consisted, according to Eroissart, of 8000 knights and
squires, armed in steel, and excellently mounted;
15,000 men-at-arms, also mounted, but upon horses
of an inferior description; the same number of infan-
try, or, as that author has termed them, sergeants on
foot; and a body of archers 24.000 strong. This
great force on its progresss northward soon became
aware of the vicinity of their destructive enemy \>y the
sight of the smoking villages and towns which marked
their course in every direction; l)ut having (or several
days vainly attempted, by following these indications,
to come up with the Scots, or even to gain correct
intelligence regarding their movements, tlicy resolve<i,
by taking po>t on the banks of the river Tyne, to
intercept them on their return into Scotland. In
this the English army were not moie fortunate; and
having, from the difficulty of their route, been con-
strained to leave their camp baggage behind them,
they suffered the utmost hardships from the want
of provisions and the inclemency of the weather.
When several days had been passed in tins harassing
duty, the king was induced to proclaim a high re-
ward to whosoever should first give intelligence of
where the Scottish army were to he found. Thomas
Rokesby, an esquire, having among others .>et out
upon this service, was the lir^t to bring back certain
accounts that the .Scots lay encamped ujirn the side
of a hill about five miles distant. Thi> ]>er>on had
approached so near their j^osition a> to be taken
prisoner by the outposts; but he had no sooner re-
counted his business to Randolph and Douglas than
he was honourably dismissed, with orders to inform
the English king that they were desirous to er.gnge
him in battle whensoever he thought pioj-.cr.

On the following day the English, marching in
order of battle, came in sight of t!ie .'-^colti^h army,
whom they fijund drawn up on foot, in three di\i>;ons.
on the >lo]ie of a h.i'.l ; having tlie river Wear —
a rapid and nearly impassable stream - in front, and
their llaid<s ]-irotected by rocks and precipices, j-.re-
seiUing insurmountable difficulties to an npiiroach.
Edward attemi>ted to draw them from their tastne--s
by challenging the .Scottish lea<iers to ai; k.onouralile
engagement on the plain — a ]iractice not umisual in
that age ; but he soon found that the exjiericiictd
generals wit'.i \\h(im he b.ad to deal were not to le
seduceil bv artitice or bravado. "tin iin- ro.-'i
hither," said they, "we have Imrned and s; ■•Wc'l ti.e
countrv, and //(■;■<■ we shall abide wliile to r.> i; -e;ii.s
good. ' If the King of England i^ oiTcii.ie 1. Iti him
come o\er and chastise u^. " 1 he two annii - re-
mained in this manner, froiiiir.g e.xh. •>:' ■, r. '.'V :;;:ee
days; the army of Ivlward nuu !i incnir/.^ drd I'v ;!;e
nature of their situation and i:ie c ■:.:;:;■.: d nhirni^ ol
their hostile neigliliour-, wIm. t;;r -■.uh.-i;! the r.ighr,
says Ert)issart, kept sounding th, ;r h.^r-i- "a- it r.l!
the great devil-, in lieil h.a i ieen :li. re." I'naMe to
firce the Scots to a \kVi\c. the h.n^;;-!! c^mmp.ndus
had no alternative 'eft them iiuvi. by ]•] i,.k.vl:;;g their
jM-escnt sitiiati.in, to compel ti'-e eneniv 1 .y i.-.mine
to quit their ini|>regna!'Ie i>. <;;• ii. and t)^ht at a dis-
advantage. Th.e I'iV.r;!! r.vM^irig. l;ov, ever, proved
the n.iti;i;v of such a sd:cn:e; t'^r the Sects having

464

SIR JAMES DOUGLAS.

discovered a place of still greater strength about
two miles distant, had secretly withdrawn thither in
the night. They were soon followed by the English,
who took post on an opposite hill, the river Wear
still interposing itself between the two armies.

The army of Edward, batlled as they had been by
the wariness and dexterity of their enemy, would
seem, in their new position, to have relaxed some-
what in their accustomed vigilance ; a circumstance
that suggested to the enterprising spirit of Douglas
the possibility of executing a truly hazardous en-
terprise. Taking with him a body of 200 chosen
horsemen, he at midnight forded the river at a con-
siderable distance from both armies, and by an un-
frequented path gained the rear of the English
camp undiscovered. On approaching the outposts
Douglas artfully assumed the manner of an English
officer going his rounds, calling out as he advanced,
" Ila ! St. George, you keep no ward here," and
by this stratagem penetrated, without suspicion, to
the very centre of the encampment, where the king
lay. When they had got thus far the party, no
longer concealing who they were, shouted aloud,
"A Douglas! a Douglas! Englisli thieves, you shall
all die !" and furiously attacking the unarmed and
panic-struck host, overthrew all who came in their
way. Douglas, forcing an entrance to the royal
pavilion, would have carried off the young king but
for tiie brave and devoted stand made by his domes-
tics, by which he was enabled to escape. Many of
tlio iiousehold, and among others the king's own
chaplain, zealously sacrificed their lives to their
loyalty on this occasion. Disappointed of his prize.
Sir James now sounded a retreat, and charging with
his men directly through the camp of the English,
safely regained his own; having sustained the loss of
only a very few of his followers, while that of the
enemy is said to have exceeded 300 men.

On the day following this night attack, a prisoner
having been brouglit into the English camp, and
strictly interrogated, acknowledged that general
orders had been issued to the Scots to hold them-
selves in readiness to march that evening, under the
banner of Douglas. Interpreting this information
bv the fears which their recent surjjrisal had inspired,
the iMigiish concluded that the enemy had formed
the plan of a second attack; and in this persuasion
drew up their whole army in order of battle, and
so continued all nigiu resting upon their arms. Early
in tlie morning two Scottish trumpeters having l^een
seized Ijy the patnjls, reported tiiat the .Scottish
army had decamped before midniglit, and were
alrcaily advanced many miles on their march honie-
wanl. The English could not, for some time, give
credit to tiiis strange and unwelcome intelligence;
but, suspecting some stratagem, continued in order
of battle, till \>y tlieir scouts tliey were fully certified
of its trutli. Tlie Scotti.-,li leaders, finding that their
provisions were nearly exhau.ited, had jirudently re-
solved u[)on a retreat; and in the evening, iiaving
ligiited numerous fires, as was usual, drew off from
their encam])ment sh<jrtiy after niglitfall. To effect
their purpose tlie army had to j^ass over a morass,
which lay in their rear, of nearly two miles in ex-
tent, till then supposed impracticable by cavalry.
This i^ia-^sage the Scots accomplished by means of a
number of hurdles, made of wands or boughs of trees
wattled together, cmjiloying these as bridges over
the water-runs and softer places of tiie bog; and so
delilierately had their measures been executed that,
when the whole body had passed, these were care-
fully removed, that they might afford no assistance
to the enemy should they pursue them by the same
track. Edward is said to have wept bitterly wlien

informed of the escape of the Scottish army; and
his generals, well aware how unavailing any pursuit
after them must prove, next day broke up the en-
campment, and retired towards Durham.

This was the last signal service which Douglas
rendered to his country; and an honourable peace
having been soon afterwards concluded between the
two kingdoms, seemed at last to promise a quiet and
pacific termination to a lite which had hitherto known
no art but that of war, and no enjoyment but that of
victory. However, a different, and to him possitjly
a more enviable, fate awaited the heroic Douglas.
Bruce dying not long after he had witnessed the
freedom of his country established, made it his last
request that Sir James, as his oldest and most
esteemed companion-in-arms, should carry his heart
to the Holy Land, and deposit it in the holy sepul-
chre at Jerusalem, to the end that his soul might be
unburdened of the weight of a vow which he felt
himself unable to fulfil.

Douglas, attended by a numerous and splendid
retinue of knights and esquires, set sail from Scot-
land, in execution of this last charge of his deceased
master. He first touched in his voyage at Sluys in
Flanders, where, having learned that Alphonso,
King of Castile and Leon, was then at waged war
with Osmyn, the Moorish King of Granada, he
seems to have been tempted, by the desire of fight-
ing against the infidels, to direct his course into
Spain, with intention from thence to combat the
Saracens in his progress to Jerusalem. Having
landed in King Alphonso's country, that sovereign
received him with great distinction; and not the less
that he expected shortly to engage in battle witli his
Moorish enemies. Barbour relates, that while at
this court a knight of great renown, whose face was
all over disfigured by the scars of wounds which he
had received in battle, expressed his surprise that a
knight of so great fame as Douglas should have re-
ceived no similar marks in his many combats. '' f
thank Heaven," answered Sir James mildly, "thnt
I had always hands to protect my face." And
those who were by, adds the author, praised the
answer much, for there was much understanding in it.

Douglas and his brave company, having joineil
themselves to Alphonso's army, came in view of the
Saracens near to Tebas, a castle on the frontiers ot
Andalusia, towards the kingdom of Granada. Os-
myn, the Moorish king, had ordered a body of 3C00
cavalry to ma'Ke a feigned attack on the Spaniartls,
while, with the great body of his army, he designed,
by a circuitous ri)ute, unexpectedly to fall upon the
rear of King Alphonso's camp. Tliat king, how-
ever, kept the main force of his army in the rear,
while he opposed a sufficient body of troops to resist
the attack which should be made in front. From
this fortunate disposition the Christian king gained
the day over his infidel adversaries. Osmyn was
discomfited with much slaughter, and Alphonso,
improving his advantage, gained full ]:)ossession ot
the enemy's camj). While the battle was thus
brought to a successful issue in onecjuartcr, Douglas
and his brave companions, who fought in the \a.u,
])roved themselves no less fortunate. 'I'he Moors,
not long able to withstand their furious encounter,
betook themselves to fiight. Douglas, uiiac(piaintcd
with the mode of warfare pursued among that iieojile,
followed harfl, until, finding himself almost deserted
by his fi)llowers, he turned his horse, with the inten-
tion of rejoining the main body. Just then, how-
ever, observing a knight of his own company to l)e
surniun(le<l by a body of Moors who had suddenly
rallie<l, "Alas!" said he, "yonder worthy knight
shall perish but for present help;" and with the few

JAMES DOUGLAS.

465

who now attended him, amounting to no more than
ten men, he turned hastily, to attempt his rescue.
He soon found himself hard pressed by the numbers
who thronged upon him. Taking from his neck the
silver casket which contained the heart of Ijruce,
he threw it among the thickest of the enemy, saying,
"Now pass thou onward before us, as thou wert
wont, and I will follow thee or die." Douglas, and
almost the whole of the brave men who fought by
his side, were here slain. His body and the casket
containing the embalmed heart of Ijruce were found
together upon the field; and were, by his surviving
companions, conveyed with great care and reverence
into Scotland. The remains of Douglas were de-
posited in the family vault at St. Bride's Chapel,
and the heart of Bruce solemnly interred by Moray,
the regent, under the high altar in Melrose Abljey.

So perished, almost in the prime of life, the gal-
lant, and, as his grateful countrymen long affection-
ately termed him, "the good Sir James Douglas,"
having survived little more than one year the demise
of his royal master. His death was soon after fol-
lowed by that of Randolph; with whom might be
said to close the race of illustrious men who had
rendered the epoch of Scotland's renovation and
independence so remarkable.

DOUGLAS, James, E.\rl of Douglas. This
distinguished warrior, the close of wliose life was so
brilliant and romantic, was the second who bore the
title of the earldom. P'rom his earliest years he had
been trained to warfare, in which his deeds were so
remarkable that he was intrusted with higli com-
mand, while the utmost confidence was reposed in
his valour and leadership. This was especially the
case in his final expedition, which was crowned by
the victory of (Jtterbum.

At this period Robert K., grandson by his mother
of Robert Bruce, was seated upon the throne of Scot-
land. His youth had been spent in war, in which
he sliowed activity and courage; but after his acces-
sion to the crown he relapsed into a peaceful state,
that was supposed by his impatient nobles to be
merely the result of indolence. With this character
he harl already ruled eighteen years, while the
war of indeiiendence against England still continued
to rage; but notwithstanding his inertness, the
valour of the .Scottish nobility, and especially the
Di)uglases, hal succeeded in repelling every English
inroad. At length, in 13SS, a favourable oppor-
tLUiity seemed to have arrived of carrying an in-
vasion into England. The Black Prince, the great
terror of Erance and prop of tlie English crown,
was dead. Richard H., the King of England, now
only twenty-one years old, was ruling with all the
folly an(l arriigance of boyhood; his council was rent
witli divisions and feuds, the notjility were arrayed
against him, wlule the commons, latelv awakened
into a sen-^e of tlicir rights by the Wat Tyler insur-
rection, were LMjually hostile to the king who mis-
ruled, and to ilie chiefs who inipoveri,--hed and op-
])res--ed them. This state of things jirescnted an
Ojiportiinity fir retaliation and ])lander wliich the
S^ois eouM not re,-i>t, and they resolved to change
their defensive into an aggressive warfare. A coiui-
cil was Iteld for this purpi)se at Edinburgh; and al-
though Robert II. w.\s opjioseil to the dangerous
measure, his wishes were disregardeii. .\ niilitan,-
nuister of the kingdom was ordered to meet at
Yetholm, and on the day appointed an army was
assem'oled, composed of the ciiief lorce of Scotland.
Eorty thousand spearmen, including a band of Scot-
tish archers, and twelve hundred men-at-arms, were
mustered upon the field ot meeting — a greater force

VOL. L

than that which had sufficed to achieve the victory
of Bannockburn. The Earl of Fife, the kings
second son, to whom the leading of this expedition
had been committed, was neither a brave soldier nor
a skilful general, but he had craft and policy enough
to pass for both, while his chief captains were men
inured to war, and well ac(|uainted with the northern
l)orders of England. The great r)uestion now at
issue was the manner in which the invasion should
be conducted, and the part of the English border that
could be Ixjst assailed; and this was soon settled by
a fortunate incident. The 1-mglish wardens, alarmed
at this formidable muster, had sent a squire, disguised
as a Scottish man-at-arms, to ascertain its nature
and purposes, in which he was fully successful; but.
on returning, he found that his h(jrse, which he had
tied to a tree in a neighbouring forest, had Ixrcn
stolen by some border freebooter. Encumbered bv
his armour, and suspected to Ijc other than he seemed,
from thus travelling on foot in such an array, he was
soon pounced upon by the light-heeled outposts, ami
brought before the Scottish lords, to whom he made
a full confession of all the plans and pre]>arations of
his masters. Judging it unsafe to hazard a pitched
battle against so large an army, they had resolved
to remain quiet until the Scots had crossed the
marches, after which they would break in upon
Scotland at some undefended point, and work their
will in a counter- invasion. This intelligence de-
cided the Scottish lords upon a ijlan that sIkjuM at
once have the invasion of England and the defence
of their own country for its object. Their army was
to be divided, and England invaded both by the
eastern and western marches, so that the enemy
should find sufficient occupation in their own criui-
tr\-. In pursuance of this plan, the Earl of Fife,
with the bulk of the army, marched through l.iil'ic.--
dale and Galloway, intending to advance upon Ca:-
lisle, while the other inroad was to l)reak into
Northumberland. As this last was designed for the
lightest part of the campaign, not more than 300
knights and men -at -amis, and about 2000 foot.
were allotted to the service; but they were jiiaced
under the command of James, Earl (i{ Di_>ugla>,
who, though young, was already accounted one < t
the most practised and skilful leaders of the countiy.
He was accom]ianied by George and John Dunbar.
Earls of March and Moray, and several of the mo>t
distinguished Scottish knights, who were jnoud to
serv'e under such a commander.

All being in readiness, the Earl of I louglas com-
menced the campaign by entering Northumberland.
He crossed the Tyne, and by swift and secret
marches approached Durham, having given criki^
to his army not to commence plundering until tluy
had jiassed that city. It was then only that il.-.-
English were aware of an enemy in the niid.-t oi
them, by contlagration and havoc among their r:C:.-
est districts, while the course of the .^cot-. a- ::•.'- y
shifted hither and thither by rapid maixhe-. l'V..':
only be traced by burning villages aI^l a dv.n r.tir.o-
sphere of smoke. The English, in the ine.-.r.'.nH.
kept within their walls, imagining tl-.at ihi> mi .:.!
body was the advanced gr.ard ot th.e ir.n::i army.
instead of an unsii]i])orted bar.d ( 1 ''.ar.i\^ n--.'.i.ar.t-.
This was csiiecialiv the ease i:i Newe.>;'.e. where
Henry Percy, son of the Ear! of N.,rl,;:!;;i-enard.
famed in En'gli.di hi>tory i;r.>:er tlie nan:e ■ f 1 1- ■•--i i:r:
Sir Raliih, hi- brotlur. \\!io>e va'.or.r \\a> -earcel;.
inferior to his own. wi'.h many gnli.ir.t k:ii..,h.t- aivi
bonier barons, ati'l a r.i;mer"r.> lv\-t": n.iiitaiy re-
tainers, in>tead of :-a;Iy:rg ..v.;. l-.eid tluni-elvis :ii
readiness fir a ^;e-e. ' .\t kngth. hnvin.; ^' --^-'V
the country f 'r m;!e-, and enriehed ihen.-.lv- wiiii

£0

466

JAMES DOUGLAS.

jilunder, the Scots prepared to retreat as rapidly as
they had advanced, and had marched as far as New-
castle on their return, when Douglas and his brave
companions in arms resolved to halt two days before
its ramparts, and dare the defenders to come forth
and do their worst. This defiance, which breathed
the full spirit of chivalry, was not likely to reach the
Tlotspur's ears in vain; the gates and sally-ports of
Newcastle were thrown open, and numerous bands
of the English rushed out, headed by their far-famed
leader, while the skirmishes that extended over the
two days were both frequent and desperate. At
length, in one of these encounters, Douglas and
Hotspur met front to front, and between these two,
each reckoned the bravest of his country, a hand-to-
hand combat ensued, such as the wars of Scotland
.and England had seldom witnessed. In the furious
close of the joust. Hotspur was unhorsed, and but
for the rescue that interposed, would have been taken
]n-isoner; while Douglas, seizing the lance of his
fallen antagonist, with its silken embroidered pennon
attached to it, waved it aloft in triumpli, and ex-
claimed in the hearing of both armies, " I will bear
this token of your prowess into Scotland, and set it
on high on my castle of Dalkeith !" "That shalt thou
never do," cried Percy in return; "you may be sure
you shall not pass the bounds of this country till you
be met with in such wise, that you shall make no
vaunting thereof " "Well, sir," replied the Douglas,
" come then this night to my encampment, and there
seek for your pennon." Thus ended their ominous
conference.

After a challenge so given and received, a conflict
was inevitable, and Douglas, in continuing his re-
treat, marched in order of battle, and ready for any
sudden onslaught of the enemy. At length the
Scots reached the castle and village of Otterburn,
about twenty-eight miles from Newcastle, on the
second day of their march, and would have con-
tinued their progress into Scotland unmolested, but
for the earnest entreaties of ]']arl Douglas, who
besought them to stay a few days there, to give
Hotspur an opportunity of redeeming his pennon,
'fo this they consented, and chose their ground
with considerable military skill, having their en-
campment defended in front and on one side by a
marsh, and on the other by a hill. They had not
long to wait. IJurning with eagerness to recover
his lost pennon and retrieve his tarnished honour,
and learning at length that the small force under the
I'^arl of Douglas was unsupported by the army, Hot-
spur left Newcastle after dinner, and commenced a
rapid march in pursuit of the .Scots. By waiting a
little longer for the l)ishf)p of Durham, who was
hastening to his assistance, liis army might have been
doubled, and his success insured; but as it was, he
greatly outnumbered his opjioncnts, as he was fol-
lowed Ijy 8000 foot and 600 lances. In the even-
ing he reached the encampment of the Scots, who,
rfter a day of weary siege against the castle of
Dtterburn, had betaken themselves to rest, but
were roused by the cry of "A Percy! a Percy!"
that announced the coming foe. They instantly
sprung to their feet, and betook themselves to their
-.veapons. Put without giving farther time, the
English commenced with an impetuous onset upon
the front of the Scottish army, drawn up behind the
marsh; through which, wearied with a hasty pursui',
they were obliged to flounder as they best could.
.Vnd now it was that the admirable generalship of
Douglas, in selecting and fortifying his encampment,
was fully ap]iarent. The front ranks thus assailed,
and who bore the first bnmt of the battle, were not
rjgular soldiers, but sutler? and camp -fol lower-,

placed in charge of the plundered horses and cattle,
and whose position was strongly fortified with the
carriages and waggons that were laden with English
spoil. Although only armed with knives and clubs,
these men, sheltered by their strong defences, made
such a stubborn resistance as kept the enemy for a
time at bay, and still further confirmed them in the
delusion that the whole Scottish force was now in
action.

Not a moment of the precious interval thus afforded
was lost by the Earl of Douglas. At the first alann
he started from supper, where he and his knights sat
in their gowns and doublets, and armed in such
haste that his armour was unclasped in many places.
The regidar troops were encamped upon firm ground
behind the marsh; and these he suddenly drew up,
and silently marched round the small wooded hill that
flanked their position, so that when the English had
forced the barrier of waggons, and believed that all
was now their own, they were astounded at the ap-
parition of the whole Scottish army advancing upon
them from an unexpected quarter, with the honoured
Douglas banner of the crowned heart floating over
its head. They had thus been wasting their valour
upon the scum of the invaders, and the real battle
was still to be fought and won ! Furious with dis-
appointment. Hotspur drew up his men in new order
for the coming onset. Even yet he might be the
victor, for his soldiers not only outnumbered the
enemy by three to one, but were equal in discipline,
and superior in military equipments. It seemed in-
evitable that the banner of the crowned heart must
be thrown down and trodden in the dust unless the
skilful head and mighty arm of its lord could main-
tain its honours against such fearful odds. The
combatants closed by the light of an autumnal moon,
that shone with an uncertain glimmer upon their
mail, and half revealed their movements, as they
shifted to and frc in the struggle of life and death.
Thus they continued hour after hour, while neither
party thought of yielding, although the ground was
slippery with Idood, and covered with the dead and
dying — each closed in deadly grapple with his anta-
gonist, that he might make his stroke more sure in
the dim changeful moonlight. At length there ap-
peared a wavering among the Scots; they reeled, and
began to give back before the weight of superior
numbers, when Douglas, finding tliat he must set his
life upon a cast, prepared himself for a final jiersonal
effort. He ordered his banner to be athanced, and
brandishing in both hands a heavy battle-axe, such
as few men could wield, he shouted his war-cry of
"A Douglas!" and rushed into the thickest of the
jiress. At every stroke an enemy went down, and
a lane was cleared before his onset; but his ardour
carried him so far in advance, that he soon found
himself unsu]')])orted, and three s]'iears bore him to
the earth, each inflicting a mortal wound. Some
time elaij'^ed before his gallant ctmipanions could
overtake his onward career. At length the Earl of
March, with his brother of Moray, who had entered
battle with such haste that he had fought all night
without his helmet, and .Sir James Lindsay, one of
the most stalwart of Scottish knights, cleared their
way to the spot, where tliey found their brave com-
mander dying, \\']iile none was beside hinr but
William Lundie, his chajjlain, a soklier ]irii-st, %\ho
had followed his ste]is through the whole conflict,
and now stood ready, lance in hand, beside his master,
to defend him in his last moments. Lindsay was the
firht to recognize the dying Douglas, and stooping
down he asked him how he fared. "Pnit indiffer-
ently," re]ilied the earl; "but blessed be (iod, most
of niv ancestors have died on fields of battle, and not

\ \

JAMES DOUGLAS.

457

on beds of down. There is a prophecy in our house,
that a dead Douglas shall win a field, and I think
that this night it will be accomplished. Conceal
my death, raise my banner, shout my war-cry, and
revenge my fall." With these words he expired.

In obedience to the dying injunctions of Douglas;
his companions concealed the body among the tall
fern that grew bcsiile it, raised aloft his standard,
that was reeling amidst the conflict, and shouted the
Douglas war-cry, as if he was still at their head;
while the English, who knew that some mighty
champion had lately fallen, but were ignorant that it
was the .Scottish leader, gave back in turn at the sound
of his dreaded name. The Scots, who also believed
that he was still alive, seconded the fresh onset of
their leaders, and advanced with such renewed
courage, that the English were at last routed, driven
from the field, and dispersed, after their bravest had
fallen, or been taken prisoners. Among the last was
Hotspur himself, wlio had fought through the whole
affray with his wonted prowess; Sir Ralph, his
brother, who was grievously wounded; the seneschal
of York, the captain of Berwick, and several English
knights and gentlemen, who were esteemed the
ciioice of their border chivalry.

.Such was the battle of Otterburn, fought in the
month of August, and in the year 1388. The loss
of the Englisli attests the pertinacity of the engage-
ment, for they had iSoo killed, about ICXX) wounded,
and as many taken prisoners. .Such a victory also
evinces, more than the most laboured eulogium, the
high military skill of the Earl of Douglas, so that,
had he lived, his renown might have worthily taken
a place by the side of the hero of Bannockbum.
But he died while still young, and achieved the
victory even when dead by the terror of his name —
a different fate from that of his gallant rival, Ilenr}'
Percy, who was first a traitor to Ricliarti II., his
natural sovereign, and afterwards to Henry IV'., a
usurper whom he had mainly contributed to elevate
to the throne, and who finally died a proclaimed
rebel on the field of .Shrewsbury, amidst disaster and
defeat. On the day after the engagement the Bishop
of Durham, whose movements had been anticipated
by the impetuosity of Hotspur, arrived upon the
field at the head of 10,000 horse and a large array
of foot — an army sufficient, as it seemed, to trample
down the victors at a single charge. But the spirit
of Douglas was still among his followers, so that,
under the command of Moray, they drew up in their
former position, and showed themselves as ready for
a second combat as they had been for the first; and
the bishop, daunted by their bold appearance, drew
off his forces, and retired without a blow. The
.Scot.-» then resumed their route homeward unmolested;
but in>tead of a joyful triumphal march, as it might
well have been after such a victory, it was raliicr a sad
and slow funeral procession, in the centre of which
was a car that conveyed the body of their hero to the
b'.iriai-piace of his illustrious ancestors. It is not
often tluis thit a soldier's love and sympathy so ovcr-
\\ lielni a soldier's pride in the full Hush of his success.
Tlie funeral was perfi)rnie<l with pompous military
honours in the abbey of Melrose, while the epitaiih
of the departed was indelibly engraven in the hearts
of his countrymen and the j^age of .Scottish hi^tory.

DOUGLAS. J AMHS, fnuth Earl of Morton, and
Regent of Scotland, wa-^ the secoml son of .^ir George
Douglas of I'itlendreich (younger brother of Archi-
\>a\d, sixth Earl of -VngtiS, and a grandson of the
fifth, or great earl, styleii J^c!l-tlu--cat). The matri-
monial connectio!! of the sixth Earl of Angus with
Margaret of England, the widow of James IV.,

brought the whole of this great family into an in-
timate alliance with Henry VIII., that princess'
brother.

During the reign of James V. as an adult sovereign
most of them lived in banishment in England; and
it was only after his death, in 1542, that they re-
apjieared in the country. Whether the Earl of Mor-
ton sj^ent his early years at the English court is not
known ; but it is relatetl by at least one hLstorical
writer that he travelled during his youth in Italy.
Immediately after the return of the family from
banishment, he is found mingling deeply in those
intrigues which Angus and other.-, carrie<i on for the
purpose of ]:)romoting the progress of the reformed
religion, along with the match between Henr}'s son
and the infant Queen Mary. He seems to have
followed in the wake of hih father. Sir George, who
was a prime agent of King Henry; and who, in
April, 1543, engaged with others to deliver up the
lowland part of Scotland to the Engli.sh monarch.
Previous to this period the future regent harl l)een
married to Elizabeth Douglas, third daughter of
James, third Earl of Morton, who was induced to
bequeath his title and all his estates to this fortunate
son-in-law, conjointly with his wife.' In virtue of
this grant, the subject of our memoir was invested
with the title of Master of Morton. It is somewhat
remarkable, that on the verj' day when the I'^nglish
ambassador informed his prince of the traitorous
engagement of .Sir George Douglas of Pittendreich.
his son, the Master of Morton, had a royal charter
confirming the above splendid grant. This mu>l
have been obtained from the fears of the governor,
Arran, against whom all the Douglases were work-
ing. In November following the master is found
holding out the donjon or principal tower of his
father-in-law's castle of Dalkeith against Arran ;
but, being destitute of victuals and artiller\-, he was
obliged to give it up, on the condition of retiring
with all his effects untouched. Nothing more is
learned of this remarkable personage till 1553, when
he succeeded his father-in-law as Earl of Morton.
.Mthougli one of the original lortls of the congrega-
tion in 1557, he did not for some time take an active
or decided part again>t the rpieen-regcnt. He had
received large favours from this lady, and, possessing
all that gratitude which consists in a lively antieij^a-
tion of favours to come, he feared, by casting off lier
cause, which he supposed would be the triumphant
one, to compromise his prospect of those future ad-
vant.iges. This caused Sir Ralph .'^afller, the Englisli
envoy, to describe him as "a simi le and fearful
man ;" words \\hich are certainly, in their modem
sense at least, inai>plicable to him. Morton \v as.
however, a commissioner for t!ie settlement of aliair-
at Upsettlington, .May 31st. 1559. .\fter liie relr.rr.
of Queen Slary, in 1561. he was sworn a jaivy-
councillor, and on llie 7th o{ January, 156;, ^• a-
ajijiointed lord high-cliancell<.>r of .Scotland. I'yilu
advice of his fatlier the Earl of I.enii.'X. 1 lan.iey
consulted Morton and the I'.arl of C'rr.wf. .r !. ;:i ; re-
ference to any other of tl'.e r.i:':.,!;;_\ . r^-; cc";;\," i!;t
taking away the life of Ki.vio, wlien Iii~ j<_:-.!"i:-y La.i
been inflamed by tlie pre-u:.i; ti. n of il.at i;;-.:-r:;;:;ate
adventurer: and' Morton became a ] r::xi; al r.etor ii;
the tragical eatastroplie that ei>a., !. It \\a> the
Oj.inion of these n..Me:iien tliat Ri.-.-io sli.r.id be ini-
peached before the ]arI::!nK;;t, a:i i ': t. ■.■.,.,dit ] -ub'iely
to justice, as an inceniiary wl:-. \\v\ ^ww (ii-:ri>'
and jealousy a:iiM;-g tlu- r.^l'i'.i-y, and had al-o en-
deavourc'l to subvert il.c aii^ieut !aws a::-! C'.:>li:a-

I The ni.>!hcr . r
.-i na'.ur.il J.e.. -iiU.'

46S

JAMES DOUGLAS.

tion of the kingdom. This there certainly would
have been little difficulty in accomplishing, but it
did not suit the impatient temper of Darnley, whose
revenge could not be satiated without in some degree
implicating the queen; and he had determined that
her favourite should suffer in her almost immediate
presence. He accordingly carried a number of the
conspirators from his own chamber, which was below
the queen's, by a narrow staircase, of which he alone
had the privilege, into hers, when she had just sat
down to supper, in company with the Countess of
Argyle and her unfortunate secretary, the object of
their hatred, whom they instantly dragged from his
seat, and, ere they were well out of the queen's pres-
ence, whose table they had overturned, and whose
clothes the unhappy man had almost torn while he
clung to her and implored her protection, despatched
him with innumerable wounds. In the meantime
Morton, chancellor of the kingdom, and the pro-
tector of its laws, kept watch in the outer gallery,
and his vassals paraded in the open court, preventing
all egress from or ingress to the palace. The effect
of this barbarous murder was an entire change of
policy on tiie part of the court. The Protestant
lords, the principal of whom had been in exile, re-
turned to Edinburgh that same night, and all Papists
were, by a proclamation issued by the king, com-
manded to leave the city next day. The queen,
though she was enraged in the highest degree, con-
cealed her feelings till she had completely overcome
the foolish Darnley, whom she persuaded in the course
of a few days to flee with her to Dunbar, to abandon
thi noblemen to whom he had bound himself by the
most solemn written obligations, and to issue a pro-
clamation denying all participation in the murder
of Rizzio, and requiring the lieges to assemble in-
stantly for the protection of the queen and the pro-
secution of the murderers. In consequence of this
the queen, with her now doubly degraded husl^and,
returned in a few days to the capital, at the head of
a formidable army; and though the exiled noblemen
who had newly returned maintained their ground,
Morton and his associates were under the necessity
of making their escape out of the kingdom. Through
the interest of the Earl of Bothwell he was pardoned
shortly after; and it was attempted at the same time
to engage him in the plot that was already formed
for murdering Darnley. In this, however, he posi-
tively refused to concur; but, practically acquainted
with the childish weakness of that unfortunate young
man, lie dared not to inform him of the design, nor
did he take any measures to prevent its being exe-
cuted, which occasioned him eventually the loss of
his own life. After the death of the king, and
Mary's sul)sequent marriage to Bothwell, Morton
was one of the most efficient leaders in the confede-
racy that was formed for her degradation, and for
erecting a Protestant regency under her infant son.
He was tlie same year restored to the office of higli-
cliancellor for life. He was also constituted high-
adtniral for Scotland, and sheriff of the county of
Edinburgh, which had become vacant by the for-
feiture of Bothwell. He, along with the I^arl of
Home, took the oaths for King James V'l. at his
coronation, on August 29th, 1567, to the effect that
he would observe tiie laws and maintain the rdigiDii
then publicly taught, so far as it was in his power.
Tlie Sccjttish treasury was at this time so low, that
wlien it was determined to fit out a small fleet to
a|iprehend and bring to justice the notorious lioth-
well, who to all his other enormities had now added
that of being a jiirate, in which capacity he was
infesting the northern islands, it was fnind to be
impracticable, till Morton generously came forward

and supplied the necessary sum from his private
purse.

During the regency of the Earl of Moray, Morton
was an active and able assistant to him on all occa-
sions. He was one of the principal commanders at
the battle of Langside, and to his courage and good
conduct it was in no small degree owing that the
results of that memorable day were of such a favour-
able complexion. He was also one of the commis-
sioners in the famous conferences at York. On
the murder of the regent in the year 1570, Morton
became the head of the Protestant or king's party,
though Matthew, Earl of Lennox, was created regent,
chiefly through his interest and that of Queen Eliza-
beth. Never was any country that had made the
smallest progress in civilization, in a more deplorable
condition than Scotland at this period. At the time
of the regent's murder the whole, or nearly the whole,
faction of the Hamiltons were collected at Edinburgh,
evidently that they might be able to improve that
event for advancing their views; and the very night
after the murder, Ker of Fernihurst, accompanied by
some of the Scotts, entered England, which they
wasted with fire and sword, in a manner more bar-
barous than even any of their own most barbarous
precedents. The reason of this was, that they did
not in this instance so much desire plunder, the
usual incentive to these savage inroads, as to provoke
the English government to declare war, which they
vainly supposed would advance the interests of their
faction. Elizabeth, however, was well acquainted
with the state of Scotland, and aware that strong ex-
ternal pressure might unite the discordant parties, and
make them for a time lose sight of those individual
objects which every paltry chieftain was so eagerly
pursuing, sent her ambassador Randolph to assure
the Scottish council that her affection towards Scot-
land was not at all abated, and, as in former times
of great confusion she had not been backward to
assist them, she would not be so now. As for the
robberies and the murders that had so lately been
committed upon her people, being aware that they
were authorized by no public authority, she would
never think of punishing the many for the errors of
the few. These marauders, however, she insisted
should be restrained; and, if they felt themselves in-
competent, by reason of their j^ublic commotions,
to do this, she offered to join her forces to theirs for
that purpose. He also added, in name of his sove-
reign, many advices which were regarded liy the
council as wholesome, equitable, and pious; but, as
they had as yet elected no chief magistrate, he was
requested to wait for an answer till the beginning of
May, on the first day of which the jwrliament was
summoned to meet. The interim was busily, as
might easily have lieen foreseen, employed, by the
faction fif the queen, in preparing either to prevent
the i^arliament from being assembled, or to embroil
its proceedings if it did. Glasgow, therefore, being
convenient for the Hamiltons, was first fixed on as
tlie general rendezvous of the party, whence they
wrote to Morton and the party of the king to meet
them either at Falkirk or Linlithgow. This not
being agreed to, the queen's faction removed them-
selves to Linlithgow, and afterwards, thinking to
]iersiiade the citizens to join them, into lulinlnirgh.
l'"oiled in this, though Kirkcaldy, the governor of the
castle, had declared for them, as also in their aim to
assemble the ]>ailiament before the ajjpointed time,
tb.cy, l)cfore that time approached, withdrew to Liii-
litlig(Av, whence they issued an edict, commanding
all the lieges to obey only the commissioners of the
f|ueen, and summoning a parliament to meet in that
])lace on the 3d of August. Previously to their Icav-

JAMES DOUGLAS.

4C9

ing Edinburgh, the faction despatched two special
messengers into England, one to meet with the Earl
of Sussex, who was on his march with an army to
punish the Scotts and the Kers, with their adherents,
who hatl so barbarously, a few months before, carried
fire and sword into England — praying for a truce,
idl they should be able to inform the queen, Eliza-
beth, by letter, of the state of their atTairs. The
other carried the said letter, which contained the
most exaggerated statements of their own strength,
and not obscurely threatened war against the English
nation. It also contained a request that Elizabeth,
as arbitress of the affairs of Scotland, shoulil annul
the decrees of the two former years, that the whole
business should be gone over anew, and settled by
the common consent of all. Trusting to the ignor-
ance of the English, they ventured to append to this
document, not only all the names of the party, but
many of those of the other, and the whole of those
that stood neuter. Sussex, having full authority,
opened both these despatches, and, perfectly aware
of the fraud, sent back the messengers with contempt.
He also transmitted copies of the letters to the ai.1-
lierents of the king, that they might know what was
going on among their enemies; in consequence of
which they sent an embassy to Elizabeth to treat
about repressing the common enemy, and, to show
their respect for her, proposing, in the choice of a
regent, to be guided by her wishes.

Sussex, in the meantime, entered Teviotdale, and
laid waste without mercy the wh<j]e possessions be-
longing to the Scotts and the Kers, and generally all
those belonging to the partisans of Mary. Under
jiretence of being revengud on the Johnstons, Lord
Scrope entered Annandale in the same manner, and
committed similar depredations. They even carried
their ravages into Clydesdale, where tliey burned and
ilestroyed the town and castle of Hamilton, and
carried off a large bo<:)ty from the different estates in
that ([uarter belonging to the Hamiltons; after which
they returned to Berwick. The messenger who had
been by the I'rotestant lords sent to Elizabeth, in the
meantime returned with an answer that containe<l the
strv)ngest expressions of astonishment at the length
of time that iiad elapsed from the death of the regent,
before they had thought it meet to make her ac-
quainted with the state of their atTiiirs, and, in con-
sequence of the delay, she declared that she could
scarcely determine in what manner she should conduct
herself with regard to them. The truth was that she
had been again parleying with Mary, who hail pro-
mised to cause her party in Scotland deliver up the
Earl of Westmoreland and some other fugitives,
subjects of Elizahetii, who had taken refuge among
them; in consequence of which, Sussex had been re-
c.xlleil, and, to save appearances with both, slie was
now necessitated to propose another conference, with
a view to tlie clearing of Mary's character and restor-
ing her t^) the exercise of sovereign authority. IJoth
parties were in the meantime to al>stain from hostilities
of every kind, and whatever innovations they hatl
attempted by their ])ublic proclamations, they were
t ) annul by the same means.

Nothing could have been contrived more dis-
c.iuragiiig t'> tlie king's friends, or m.)re detrimental
t.> the inteiv'sts wf Sc' it'.aii 1, than such a determina-
tion as tli'.s; but they ha<l no choice left. They be-
hoved either to !ij a-sisted by the (^hieen of Eng-
land, or run tlie hazard <if a dangerous civil war with
their own ]i.irty, considerably diminished by the
dilatory maimer i;i which they lia ! .Tlrcidy acted,
and the chance of the opposite jMrty I'ein^^ assisted
l)y a strong auxiliary f >rce frnni France, whieli had
been often proniised, aiul as i.if.en b laste 1 of, ger,e-

rally among the more uninformed classes, who liad
little knowledge of the internal strength <jf France,
or of the political balance that might externally sway
her councils, and prevent her government from acting
accordmg to cither their promises or their wishes.
But they were not altogether blind to the difficulties
in which, by the subtlety of .her policy, Elizabeth
was involved ; and they chose a middle course,
trusting to the chapter of accidents for an issue more
successful than they C(juld fully or clearly foresee.
.Sensible how much they had lost by the delay in
appointing some pers(m to the regency, they pro-
ceeded to create Matthew, Earl of Lennox, regent,
till the middle of July, by which time they calcu-
lated upon ascertaining the pleasure of Elizabeth,
of whose friendship they did not yet des])air.

The Earl of Lennox was not by any means a man
of commanding talent, but he was a man of kindly
affections, and a lover of his countr)'; and with the
assistance of his council, set himself in good earnest
to correct the disorders into which it had fallen, when,
about the beginning of July, letters arrived from
Elizabeth, filled with expressions of high regard both
for the king and kingdom of Scotland, and promising
them both her best assistance; and though she wislied
them to avoid the nomination of a regent, as in itself
invidious, yet if her opinion were asked, she knew
no person who ought to be preferred to the king's
grandfather to that office, because none could be
thought upon who would be more faithful to his
pupil while a minor, nor had any one a preferable
right. On the reception of this grateful communica-
tion, Lennox was immediately declared regent, and
having taken the usual oath for preserving the reli-
gion, the laws, and liberties of his country, he issued
a proclamation, commanding all who were capable
of bearing arms to appear at Linlithgow on the 2d
of .Vugust. His purpose by this was to prevent the
assembling of the party meeting, which, under the
name of a parliament, was called in name of the
<|ueen, for the 2d day of September, he himself
having summoned, in name of the king, a parliament
to meet on the loth of October. He was accordingly
attended on the day appointed by 5000 at I.inlithgov.-,
where the party of the queen did not think it advis-
able to appear. Hearing, however, that Huntly l.aii
issued orders f)r a large army to be assemlileil at
Brechin, the garrison of which had begun to infest
the highways, and to rob all travellers, he ser.t
against that place the Lor(is Lindsay and Kuth\en,
with what forces they could collect at I'erth znd
L)undee. The subject of this memoir followed tliem
with Soo horse, and was at lirechin only a day
behind them. The regent himself having desj lat^b.ed
the men of Lennox and Renfrew to jirotect tb.eir own
country, in case .\rgn.-le should attack them, f .IlMWe-i
in three (lavs, and was waited upon by the iviiali'.y
and gentry, with their f)lIowers, to the number < I
7000 men. Huntly hail now lied tn tile r.orlh. Ti.e
garrison of Brecliin made a s!;.iw of delen- 'ii.g t!;e:r.-
selves, but were soon brought to submit at ix-^reti' n.
Thirty of them wlio had been I'.d i.ffer.-ie;-. v.eie
hanged on the spot, and the renia-.n !er d;-iir.— . :.

The regent returned to r.'.i:i'i'i::v!i in tir.e ; >
attend the meeting of p.ar'.iamen:. whiJi b.-'ni!. -ii'.' u-'y
confirmed his authority. On t!i> .vo 'U::t the.jv.ein'^
party had again recwu;-e t.i the frei^'; ..:. ; the
Spaniards, with iii'>re earne-ttie^s tliaii ever, er.tri.at-
ing them to sen i tlie prMini-e I ..~-->ta:Ke l>r tlte
re-toring of tlie ijtieeii and tlie aiuient re.-.g;"ii. the
latter dejiending. they -aid. u; ■>:! t:ie friiier^ .\ii. thcr
jiarliaiiient I'eiiig app-itited 1-r tile 25th ..! Jaraiary.^
1 5 10, tlie queen's parly, tiin a^-ii tile 'J.i' <-:i it
V-i'.r::.] '-. eufs-.l a :e:te^^a! >. t" the truce till tile

470

JAMES DOUGLAS.

matters in dispute should be debated before her.
The parliament on this account was prorogued from
the 25 th of January till the beginning of May; and
on the 5 th of February the Earl of Morton, Robert
Pitcaim, abbot of Dunfermline, and James Macgill,
were despatched to London to hold the conference.
For this second conference before the agents of
Elizabeth we must refer our readers to the life of
Mary Queen of Scots. We cannot for a moment
suppose that Elizabeth had any serious intentions, at
any period of her captivity, to restore Queen Mary,
and ihey were probably less so now than ever. The
proposals she made at this time, indeed, were so
degrading to both parties as to be rejected by both
with equal cordiality. There had been in this whole
business a great deal of shuffling. Mary had under-
taken for her partisans that they would deliver up to
Elizabeth the fugitives that had made their escape
from justice, or in other words, from the punishment
which they had made themselves liable to on her ac-
count; but instead of being delivered up to Elizabeth
they were safely conveyed into Flanders. Mary had
also engaged that her partisans should abstain from
courting any foreign aid ; but an agent from the pope,
who had vainly attempted to conciliate Elizabeth,
issued a bull of excommunication against her, declared
her an usurper as well as a heretic, and absolved her
subjects from their oaths of allegiance to her; yet
with inexplicable pertinacity, Elizabeth seemed to
divide her regards between the parties, by which
means she kept alive and increased their mutual
hatred, and was a principal instrument of rendering
the whole country a scene of devastation and misery.
While this fruitless negotiation was going on, the
truce was but indifferently observed by either party.
Kirkcaldy and ^Laitland having possession of the
castle of Edinburgh, and being free from the fear of
any immediate danger, were constantly employed in
training soldiers, taking military possession of the
most advantageous posts in the city, seizing the pro-
visions brought into Leith, and by every means
making preparations for standing a siege till the
promised and ardently expected assistance should
arrive from abroad. The Hamiltons oftener than
once attempted the life of the regent, and they also
seized upon the town of Paisley, but Lennox, march-
ing in person against them, speedily recovered it.
He also marched to Ayr against the Earl of Cassillis,
who gave his brother to the regent as a hostage, and
appointed a day when he would come to Stirling and
ratify his agreement. The Earl of Eglinton and
Lord I'oyd at the same time made their submission
to the regent, and were taken into favour. The castle
of Dumbarton too, which had all along been held
for the queen, fell at this time, by a piece of singular
good fortune, int(j the hands of the regent. In the
castle were taken prisoners Monsieur Verac, am-
bassador from the King of France, John Hamilton,
Archbishop of St. Andrews, and John Fleming of
Boghall. The archbishop was shortly after hanged
at Stirling, as being concerned in the plots for
murdering Darnley and the Regent Moray. In the
meantime Morton and the other commissioners that
had accompanied him, returned from Lfjndon, having
come to no conclusion. Morton gave a particular
account of all that had passer! between the commis-
sioners to the nobles assembled at .Stirling, wlio
entirely ajiproved of the conduct of the connnissioncrs;
but the further consideration of the embassy was
])ostponed to the first of May, when the parliament
was summoned to assemble. Both parties were now
fully on the alert: the one to hold, anrl the other
prevent, the meeting on the day appointed. Morton,
after the nobles had approved (jf his conduct, returned

to his house at Dalkeith, attended by loO foot-
soldiers and a few horse, as a guard, in case he
should be attacked by the townsmen, or to repress
their incursions till a sufficient force could be col-
lected. Morton, as desired by the regent, having
sent a detachment of a few horsemen and about
seventy foot to Leith, to publish a proclamation for-
bidding any person to supply the faction of the queen
with provisions, arms, or warlike stores, under pain
of being treated as rebels, they were attacked in their
way back to Dalkeith, and a smart skirmish ensued,
in which the townsmen were driven back into the
city, though with no great loss on either side. This
was the beginning of a civil war that raged with
unusual bitterness till it was terminated by the inter-
vention of Elizabeth. The regent not being prepared
to besiege the town, wished to abstain from violence;
but, determined to hold the approaching parliament
in the Canongate, within the liberties of the city, at
a place called St. John's Cross, he erected two
fortifications, ol€ in Leith Wynd, and the other at
the Dove Craig, whence his soldiers fired into the
town during the whole time of the sitting of the
parliament, slaying great numbers of the soldiers and
citizens. This parliament forfeited Maitland the
secretary, and two of his brothers, with several others
of the party, and was held amid an almost constant
discharge of cannon from the castle; yet no one was
hurt. On its rising, the regent and Morton retired
to Leith, when the party of the queen burned down
the houses without the walls that had been occupied
by them; and as they withdrew towards Stirling, they
sent out their horsemen after them to Corstorphine.
Before they reached that place, however, the regent
was gone; but they attacked the Earl of Morton,
who slowly withdrew towards Dalkeith. As Morton
afterwards waylaid all that carried provisions into
tlie town, a party was sent out, supposed to be
sufficiently strong to burn Dalkeith. The earl,
however, gave them battle, and repulsed them to the
marches of the Borough Muir. The garrison, seeing
from the castle the discomfiture of their friends, sent
out a reinforcement, which turned the tide of victory;
and but for the carelessness of one of the party, who
dropped his match into a barrel of powder, the whole
of Morton's party might have fallen victims to their
temerity in pursuing the enemy so far. This accident,
whereby the horse that carried the powder and many
of the soldiers were severely scorched, put an end to
the affray. Elizabeth all this while had professed a
kind of neutrality between the parties. ]Vow, how-
ever, she sent Sir William Drury to Kirkcaldy, the
captain of the castle, to know of him whether he
held the castle in the queen's name or in the name
of the king and regent; assuring him that if he held
it in the name of the (pieen, Elizabeth would be his
extreme enemy, but if otherwise that she would be
his friend. The captain declared that he owned no
authority in Scotland but that of Queen Maiy. The
regent, when Drury told him this, sent him back to
demand the house to be rendered to him, in the
king's name; on which he and all that were along
witli hinr should be pardoned all by-past offences,
restored to their rents and possessions, and should
have lil)erty to depart with all their effects. This
offer, the captain, trusting the "carnal wit and policy
of Lethington," was so wicked and so foolish as to
refuse, and the war was continued with singular
barbarity. The small party in the castle, in onkr
to give the colour of law to their procedure, added
the absurdity of holding a parliament, in which they
reafl a letter from the king's mother, declaring her
resiL;nation null, and requesting that she might be
restored, which was at once conq)lied with; only

JAMES DOUGLAS.

47 «

they wanted the power to take her out of the hands
of Elizabeth. In order to conciliate the multitude,
they declared that no alteration should be made in
the Presbyterian religion, only those preachers who
should refuse to pray for the queen were forbidden
to exercise their functions. These mock forms, from
which no doubt a man of so much cunning as
Lethington expected happy results, tended only to
render the party ridiculous, without producing them
a single partisan. The regent, all whose motions
were directed by Morton, was indefatigable, and by
an order of the estates, the country was to send him
a certain number of men, who were to serve for
three months, one part of the country relieving the
other by turns. To narrate the various skirmishes
of the contending parties, as they tended so little to
any decisive result, though the subject of this memoir
had a principal hand in them all, would be an un-
profitable as well as an unpleasant task. We shall
therefore pass over the greater part of them; but the
following we cannot omit.

Morton, being weary and worn out with constant
watching, and besides afflicted with sickness, retired
with tile regent to .Stirling, where the whole party,
along with the English ambassador, thought them-
selves in perfect security. The men of the castle, in
order to make a tlourish before Sir William Drury,
came forth with their whole forces, as if to give their
opponents an open challenge to face them if they
dared to be so bold. Morton, who was certainly a
b.-ave man, being told of this circumstance, rose
from his bed, put on his armour, and led forth his
men as far as Restalrig, where he put them in battle
array, facing the (jueen's adherents, who had drawn
up at the (^)uarrel Holes, having along with them
two field-pieces. Drury rode between the armies
and entreated them to return home, and not spoil all
hopes of accommodation by fresh bloodshed. To
tiiis he at length brought them to agree, only they
wanted to know who should leave the ground first.
Drury endeavoured to satisfy both by standing between
the armies, and giving a signal which both should
obey at tiie same time. Morton was willing to obey
the signal; i)ut his enemies threatened that if he did
nit retire of his own accord, they would drive him
friim the fielil with disgrace. This was enough for
a man of his proud spirit. He was loath to offend
the English; but he conceived that he had abundantly
testified his moderation, and he therefore ru.->hed like
a whirlwind upon his foes, who, panic-struck, tied in
a moment towards the nearest gate, which not being
wide enough to receive at once the living cloud,
many were trodden down and taken prisoners; only
one small party, who rallied in an adjoining church-
yard, hut who again fled at the first charge, made
any resistance. So coiujilete was the panic, and so
disonlcrly thefiight, that, leaving the gatesunguarilcd,
every man tied full speed towards the castle ; and
hail not the regent's soldiers, too intent upon jilunder,
neglecteil the o]ii)()rtunity, the city might have been
taken. (laN'in Hamilton, abbot of Kilwinning, was
slain, with upwards of fifty soldiers, and tiiere were
taken i>n>oiier> the Lord Home, ("ajitain Cullen, a
relatiwii ,ii I Iiinlly's, and upwards of seventy soldiers,
with some hor-enien. and the two field-pieces. On
the side of t!ie regent there were >lain Oajitain
Wymis and one single soldier. This adventure hel'ell
on Saturd.iv the 2()t!i of June, an<l. fir its fatal i>sue,
was long called by the people of Ivliidiurgh the
Hl.ACK S.vl IKKAV. The faction of the ([Ueen held
another parliament in the nioiuh of .\ugu>t, still
more ridieulou> than tlie jireceding; hut in thj ini>nlh
of ."September. Kirkcaldy, the g"vern.T of the cattle,
projected an expedition ut the most decisive character,

and which, had it succeeded, must have put an end
to the war. This was no less than an attempt to sur-
prise Stirling, where the regent and all the nobles in
amity with him were assembled to hold a parliament,
and it was hoped they should all be either killed or
taken prisoners at the same moment. The leaders who
were chosen to execute the project were the Earl
of Huntly, Lord Claud Hamilton, the lairrl of Buc-
cleuch, and the laird of Wormeston; they were
allowed 300 f )ot an<l 200 horsemen; and that the
foot might reach their destination unfatigued, they
pressed the day befijre every horse that came into
the market, upon which, ancl behind the horsemen,
they were all mounted. In this manner they left
Edinburgh on the evening of the 3d of September,
1571. Taking an opjiosite direction till they were
fairly quit of the town, they marche<l straight for
Stirling, where they arrived at three o'clock in the
morning, and reached the market-place without so
much as a dog barking at their coming. Thev
had for their guide George Bell, a native of
.Stirling, who knew every individual lodging and
stable within it, and his first care was to point
them all out, that men might lie stationed at
them, to force up doors and bring forth the prisoners
out of the lodgings, and horses from the stalile>.
The footmen were placed in the streets by bands,
with orders to shoot every person belonging to the
town, without distinction, who might come in
their way. The .stables were instantly cleared
(for the greater part of the invaders belonged to
the borders, and were excellently well acquainted
with carrying off prizes in the dark), and the finest
horses of the nobility were collected at the east piirt.
The prisoners too had been mostly seized, and were
alreatly in the streets, ready to be led away, for they
were not to be put to tleath till they were all as-
sembled outside the town wall. Morton, however,
happened to be in a strong house, and with his ser-
vants made such a desperate resistance that the enemy
could only olitain entrance by setting it on fire.
.After a number of his servants had lieeii killed, he
made his escape through the flames, and surrendered
himself pris<iner to his relation the laird of Ihiccleuch.
The regent too was secure<l, and the retreat sounded,
but the merchants' shops had attracted the borderers,
and they could nut on the instant l>e recalled from
their ordinary vocation till Erskine of Marr, who
commanded the ca>tle, issued out with a body of
musqueteers, which he placed in an unfinished house
that commanded the market-] ilace, and which, from
its being emjity. the marauders had neglected t^ ■
occujiy. From this commanding station he annoyeil
them so grievously that they lied in confusion, and
in the narrow lane leading to the gate irode down
one another, so that, had there been an_\- tolerable
number to join in the pursuit, not one of them cnul.!
have escaped. The inhalntants of the town, h^.w-
ever, were fast assembling, and the ima lers were
under the necessity of quitting their prisi'r.ers .t . t
being instantly cut to pieces. Tii'-^ w'.,, h:. I t.iken
.\lex"ander, Karl of Cdencairn. and Janx-s. i;.iil -■:
Morton, were fain, fir the sa\ing of" t!:e;r live-, t''
tleliver themselves up to their ] r:~ >ni. :■■ : ai-'l <-.■"■!'-
tain Calder, seeing tiie day l..st. sly,; ;h.r regent, w 1; 1
was in the han<ls of ,s;].enLe-f \V,,nne-:on, W..r-
nieston had already received twi \^-;::. ;- in defen'i-
ing his pris.mer. and n^Nv I;e v..-;- -la;;-. <.i:tr;ghi.
Two of these w!io l-u-.d sin:.k .it the regent and
wounded him, after bein^ t.iken, ii.t iie;i.g ablets
escape to their frieii.ls, were sc:.-e.l ani li.Tr.gel.
The jHUsuit was h -wever j revenlc 1 by the thieves
of l"evi.i^l.de having in ti;e be::;::ni:ig ■ d the atJair
carried .itTall llie li-rs,-, -j tiu: those wlio unee g^t

47^

JAMES DOUGLAS.

clear of the gate had no difficulty in escaping.
There were in Stirling at this time with the regent,
Morton, Argyle, Cassillis, Glencairn, Eglinton,
Montrose, Buchan, Kuthven, Glamis, Sempill,
Ochiltree, Cathcart, and Methven, all of whom, had
the plot succeeded, would have been either killed or
made j^risoners. The regent died the same night,
and Marr succeeded him in his office, though it was
supposed that Morton was the choice of the Queen
of England. The parliament was continued by the
new regent, and a great number of the queen's fac-
tion were forefaulted. The parliament was no sooner
concluded than the regent hastened to besiege Edin-
burgh, for which great preparations had been made
by tile Regent Lennox, lately deceased. Scotsmen
in those days had but little skill in attacking fortified
places, and though the regent erected batteries in
different situations, their efforts were inconsiderable.
The siege of course was abandoned, and the former
kind of ceaseless hostility renewed. Maitland and
Kirkcaldy, in company, now had recourse to Elizabeth
to settle their disputes; but they expected their pro-
perty and their offices restored, and for security that
Kirkcaldy should retain the connnand of the castle.
Elizabeth offered to protect them and to treat with
the regent on their behalf; but, laying aside disguise,
she informed them that Mary had been so ill advised,
and had adopted measures so dangerous to her, that
while she lived she should neither have liberty nor
rule.

It was about this time that John, Lord Maxwell,
was married to a sister of Archibald, Earl of Angus.
Morton, for the entertainment of a number of gentle-
men and ladies on the occasion, had store of wines,
venison, &c., provided, which being brought from
Perth on the way towards Dalkeith, was taken by a
party of horsemen from the castle, which so enraged
Morton, that he sent a number of armed men into
Fife, who destroyed all the corn on the lands of the
governor of the castle, and burned his house; and the
governor the same niglit succeeded in burning the
whole town of Dalkeith. The same detestable
wickedness was, by both parties, committed in
various other places shortly after. In March, 1572,
all the mills in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh
were broken down, that the inhabitants miglit be cut
off fnjm their supply of meal; and by placing soldiers
in Corstorphine, Redliall, Merchiston, Craigmillar,
and other defensiljle places in the neighbourhood of
the town, it came to be closely blockaded. Who-
ever was f nuid carrying any necessary to the town
was brought down to I^eith, where he was either
hanged or <lrowned, or at tlie very least burned in tlie
cheek. .So inveterate, indeed, had the parties now
become, that i>risoncrs taken in the field of open
war Were instantly lianged on both sides. This blind
brutality was carried on without intermission for
nearly two months. Tiie town of l^dinburgh was
now reducetl to the greatest straits, and nothing but
the deepest infatuation could have j>revented the
governor of the castle from surrenderijig, especially
as Llizabeth, by her ambassador, was willing to treat
with the regent on his l)ehaif .\ truce was, how-
ever, effected by the mediation of the Frencii and
English ambassadors; the town was made patent tc)
the governor, and the banished clergy were all
allowed to return; but still no terinsof nnitual agree-
ment could be devised, and the Regent Marr, broken
in spirit for the wickedness and folly of his country-
men, died, as has been generally supjiosed, of a
broken heart, on the 24th of October, 1572. .Morton
liad now a fair field for his ambition, and on the 24th
of N')veml)er he was elected regent, in the room of
the Earl of Marr.

During the government of the three former regents
Morton had been a principal actor in all matters of
importance, and there did not appear to be any ])ositive
change in his principles and views now that he was
at liberty to act for himself He still proffered peace
upon the conditions that had been held out by his
predecessor; but Grange, who commanded the castle,
having risen in his demands, and Maitland being a
man of whom he was jealous, he fell upon the plan
of treating with the party separately, and by this
means ruining, or at least disabling, the whole. In
this he was assisted, ]ierhaps unwittingly, by the
English ambassador Killigrew, who, now that a
])artisan of England was at the head of the govern-
ment, laboured to bring about a reconciliation between
all parties. Under his auspices a correspondence
was accordingly entered into with the two most
])owerful leaders of the ]iarty, Chatelherault and
Huntly, by whom a renewal of the truce was gladly
accepted. Kirkcaldy, who refused to be included in
the pnjlongatior of the truce, fired some cannon at
six o'clock in the morning after it had cxjiired, against
a place which had been turned into a fish-market,
whereby one man was slain and several wounded.
The ambassador seeing this, immediately moved
home, and Sir James Balfour, who had been all the
time of the dispute an inmate of the castle, hastened
to make his submission to the regent, and demand a
pardon, which was cheerfully granted, with restora-
tion at once to all his possessions. Perhaps rather
offended than mollified by this kindness on the part
of the regent towards his friend, the governor pro-
claimed from the walls of the castle his intention to
destroy the town, commanding, at the same time, all
the queen's true subjects to leave the ])lace, that they
might not be involved in that ruin which was intended
only for her enemies. Within two days after, a
strong wind blowing from the west, he sallied out in
the evening and set fire to the houses at the foot of
the rock, which burned eastward as far as the Mag-
dalen Chapel. At the same time he sent his cannon-
shot along the path taken by the conflagration, so
that no one dared to approach to ])ut it out. This
useless cruelty made him alike odious to his friends
and his enemies, and they "sa cryit out with male-
dictions that he was saif frae na mannis cursing."'
The estates, notwithstanding all this, met in the end
of January, when they passed several acts against
Papists and despisers of the king's authority. This
meeting of the estates had no sooner l;roken up than
a meeting was held at Perth with the leading noble-
men who had first been of the queen's faction, when
a treaty was entered into by which a general anmesty
was granted to all who should jirofess an<l sujiport
the Protestant religion, and sulimit themselves to the
authority of the regent. The only ])ersons excepted
from this amnesty were the murderers of the king
and the Regents Moray and Lennox, the Archbishop
of Cdasgow, Mary's ambassador in France, and the:
Bishoj) of Ross, her ambassador in England, both of
wh(jm were under a sentence of outlawry. Liberty
was also reserved for Kirkcaldy and his associates to
take the benefit of this amnesty if they did it within
a given time. The luiglish amljassador, anxious for
the fate of a Ijrave man, waited in the castle to shfnv
the guvernor the treaty, and to advise his acceding
to it, but .Maitland had so possessed him ■with the
idea of assistance from al)road, that he was deaf to
all advice. Morton, indeed, had not the means of
reducing the castle himself; but he made immediate
ai)])Iication to lOlizaljcth for a sup])ly of cannon and
of soldiers who could work them, which application
she received most graciously, and .Sir William l)rury,
with a body of tnjops and a train of artillery, lelt

JAMES DOUGLAS.

473

Berwick upon that service in the month of April,
1573. Bet'ore tiie inarch of the troops, however, a
special treaty was concluded whereby the terms upon
which the aid was granted were particularly specified,
and hostages were granted for the fulfilment of these
terms. Xo time was lost in commencing the siege,
and notwithstanding the skill and bravery of the
governor, the place was speedily reduced. The fall
of part of the chief tower choked up the well, which
aflorded them at best but a scanty supply; and the
Spur, though a place of great strength, was stormed
with the loss of only eight men killed and twenty-
three wounded. The garrison on this beat a parley,
and sent for one of the English ca|)tains, to whom
they expressed their desire of conversing with the
general and the ambassador. The regent giving his
consent, Kirkcaldy, according to the prediction of
John Knox, along with Sir Robert Melville, was let
down over the wall, the gate being choked up with
rubbish. Requiring conditions which could not be
granted, Kirkcalily was returned to the castle, but
he found it impossible to stantl another a-sault.
They had no water but what they caught as it fell
from heaven, and the garrison was discontented.
Thinking on the terms that had been offered, and
so often and foolishly rejected, and ascribing the
obstinacy of the resistance to Mailland, the men
threatened that if furllier attempts to preserve the
place were made, they would hang him over the
wall. Xotliing of course was left Init to capitulate
at discretion ; but this they did with the English
general, in preference to the regent. The garrison
had to be brought from the castle under an escort,
so odious was it to the people; and Kirkcaldy and
Maitland, for the same reason, had to be lodged with
the English general. Maitland took himself off by
poison; and Kirkcaldy and his brother James, along
with two otlijr persons, were hanged at the cross
of Edinburgh upon the 3d day of -Vugust, 1573.
Kirkcaldy had been an early friend and an intrepid
defender of the Ref irmation ; but his old age, in
consequence perhaps of the comi)anionships he had
formed, was unworthy of his youtli, and his end was
most miseral)le. This was the last stroke to the
interests of Mary in Scotland.

The regent's first care was to rejiair the castle,
the keeping of which he committed to his brother,
George Douglas of Parkhead, he himself going in
jierson to repress the disorders that had so long pre-
vailed am jiig the borderers, and had been so often
complained of by the English government. Along
with Sir John Eorrester, the English warden f )r the
niitldle march, he adjusted the existmg differences,
:md concerted measures to prevent their recurrence.
Erom the chiefs of the different districts he exacteil
iio>iages fur tlieir good behaviour; and he appointeil
.Sir James Home of Cowdenknows, Sir John Car-
niichael, one of his jirincipal ministers, and Lord
Maxwell, as wardens fur the eastern, the middle, and
the western marclies. Having settled the borders.
Morton next applied himself to correct the disorders
in the country in general, and to tlie regular distri-
liiitjon of ju>tice; and in thi>, says the author of the
hi-tory of James \T., "lie u i?lied to ]nini.-.li tiie trans-
gres--;or ra'Jier be his gude> than be death." "He
liad also anitlier jnirji i^e,"' says the same author,
'"to heap up a great treasure wliat>oever wav it
might be olitainei. Eor the tir>t he ]iriisperel in
elTcct verv weil; anl a< to the uiiier. he had greater
luck than any three kings had before lijni in sa short a
sjiace. Eor not only he collectit all the king's rents
10 his awin profiit, Imtalso coiitrollit the yung king's
family in sik sort, as tliey war content of sik a small
l>ension as he plea-ed to api/o;nt. .Secondly,

when any benefices of the kirk vaikit, he keeped the
proffit of their rents sa lang in his awin hand, till he
was urgit be the kirk to mak donation tharof, and
that was not given but proffit for all that. And be-
caus the wairds and marriages war also incidental
matters of the crown, and fell frequently in thais
dayis, as commonly they do, he obtainit als great
l)roffit of ilk ane of them as they war of avail, and
as to the gudes of those wha war ony way disfjbedient
to the lawis, and that the same fell in the king's hand,
the parties offenders escapit not but payment in the
highest degree. And to this efiect he had certain
interpreters and componitors wha componit with all
parties, according to his ain direction ; and he sa
appointed with them for the payment, that it sould
either be made in fyne gold or fyne silver." The
alx)ve, we doubt not, is a pretty fair general state-
ment of Morton's ordinary modes of jirocedure.
He also sentenced to whipping and imjirisonment
those who dared to eat flesh in Lent ; but the sen-
tences were uniformly remitted upon paying fines.
His exactions upon the church perhaps were not the
most aggravatetl of his doings, but they certainly
brought him a larger share of odium than any other.
The thirds of benefices had been appropriated for
the maintenance of the Protestant clergy ; but from
the avarice of the nobility, who had seized upon
the revenues of the church, even these thirds could
not be collected with either certainty or regularity.
During the late troubles they had in many jjlaccs
been entirely lost sight of; to remedy this defect,
Morton proposed to vest them in the crown, under
promise to make the sti{)end of every minister local,
and payable in the parish where he served. If upon
trial this arrangement should he found ineligible,
he engaged to replace them in their former situation.
Xo sooner, however, did he obtain possession of the
thirds, than he appointed one man to serve perhaps
four churches, in which he was to preach altematel} ,
with the stijiend of one parish only; by which means
he pocketed two-thirds, with the excejition of the
tritle given to three illiterate persons who reatl
jirayers in -the absence of the minister. The allow-
ance to superintendents was stopped at the same
time; and when application was made at cimrt. they
were told the office was no longer necessary, bishops
being jilaced in the diocese, to whom of right the
ecclesiastical jurisdiction belonged. The ministers
complained, and desired to be put on their firmer
footing; but they were told that the thirds belonged
to the king, anel the management of them behoved
of course to belong to the regent and council, and
not to the church. The Assembly of 1574, in order to
counteract the effects of their own simpHcity, decreed
that though a minister shouM be appointed to nn're
churches than one. he should take the charge 'if th.r.t
alone where he resided, and bestow upon the .ahers
only what he could spare without interfering with
the duty he owed to his jLarticular charge.

In the summer of 1575. an affray on tlie 1 ;df-
had well nigh involved M< rton in a cnte-i v, ith
Idizabeth. ."sir John Carmichael. one': ;l;e .'Let-
tish wardens, had delivered up s. ,me i-utl.iw > :■' >;r
John Eorrester, the English w:;ni. :i. n:u! r.-w nia.ie
"api)lication to that officer t" h.ivc a iv ;. ri' i> thief
delivered up to him; Eorrester -h-we i a '.i-; "-itii^n
to evade tlie <lenian'i, nr.l s 'n;e < ! ;!:e >fitt:-i;
atteu'lants uttered their ii:-!;ke in ;cr;r.> rr.-i^r thp.n
suited the p<.Ii;e e:.r- -t' I'.n^li-hr.u-ii. Sir Jojm
Etu-re-ter then --.li.'., tliat S:r J-Ii:i t ■.-.:ni: Jiaei w.'s
not an e^ual t^ liini; aii'i hi- f-ii -■.ver~. \\i;hout
ceremony, let I'.y a s!;M-,ecr <■( arr^w- that kille'l
one Scotsman. a'.;d v.-undel n-.ar,y .riieis. In-
ferior in numli'.rs, tlie ."^cots were l,:;r. to t.e'.- IjC

474

JAMES DOUGLAS.

their lives; but meeting some of their countrymen
from Jedburgh, they turned back ; and dispersing
the Englishmen, chased them within their own bor-
ders, antl slew by the way George Heron, keeper
of Tinedale and Reddisdale, witli twenty-four com-
mon men. Forrester himself they took prisoner,
along with Francis Russell, son to the Earl of Bed-
ford, Cudbert CoUingwood, and several otiiers,
whom tliey sent to the regent at Dalkeith ; who,
heartily sorry for the affray, received them with kind-
ness, entertained them hospitably for a few days,
and dismissed tliem courteously. Elizabeth, informed
of the circumstance, demanded by her ambassador,
Killigrcw, immediate satisfaction. Morton had no
alternative but to repair to the border, near Berwicl-c,
where he was met i:>y the Earl of Huntingdon, and
after a conference of some days it was agreed that
Sir John Carmichael should be sent prisoner into
Iingland. Elizabeth finding on inquiry tliat her own
warden liad been the oiTender, and pleased with the
submissive conduct of Morton, ordered Carmicliael
in a few weeks to be honourably dismissed, and
gratified him with a handsome present.

Morton, having a greedy eye to tlie temporalities
of the church, iiad from the beginning been un-
friendly to her liberties, and by his encroachments
had awakened a spirit of opposition that gathered
strengtli every year, till the whole fabric of Episco-
pacy was overturned. This emliroiled him with
tlie General Assembly every year, and had no small
effect in hastening his downfal ; but in the bounds
we have prescribed to our narrative we cannot in-
troduce the subject in such a way as to be intelligible,
and mu.->t therefore pass it over.

In tlie end of 1575 the regent coined a new piece
of gold of the weight of one ounce, and ordained it
to pass current for twenty pounds. In the follow-
ing year a feud fell out betwixt Athole and Argyle,
which tlie regent hoped to have turned to his own
account by imposing a fine upon each of them ; but
they being aware of his plan, composed their own
differences, and kept out of his clutches. An at-
temjjt which Morton had before this made upon
Sempleof Beltrees and Adam Whitford of Milntown,
had given all men an evil opinion of his disposition,
and made tliem wisli for the subversion of his power.
Semple had married Mary Livingston, one of (^ueen
Mary's maids of honour, and had received along
with her, in a present from his royal mistress, the
lands of Beltrees, which Morton now proposed to
resume as crown lands, which, it was alleged,
were unalienalile. Semple, on hearing of this de-
sign, wa^ reported to liave exclaimed, tliat if he lost
his land> lie should lose his head also; on whicii
Morton liad him aj)preliended and ])ut to the torture,
under wliicli, as most men will do, he confessed
whatever they tliought fit to charge him with, and
was condemned to be executed, Init was jiardoned
ui)on the scaffold. His uncle, yVdain Whitford,
was also tortured resjiectiiig the same plot ; Init
though they mangled his tiody most cruelly, lie
utterly denied that he knew of any such tiling. The
firm denial of the uncle gained of course eiUirc
cre<lit, while the confession of the nephew was ridi-
culed as the effect of weakness an<l fear. Irritated with
the reproaches which were now jiretty liberally heaped
upon him, Morton conceived the idea of heightening
his reputation by demitting, or offering to demit, his
office in'o the hands of the king, who was now in his
twelfth year. I le accorcjingly, on the I2tli day of Sej)-
teniher, 1 577, i)roposed his resignatic^n to his majesty,
who, by the advice of Athole and Argyle, acce])te(l
it: and it was shortly after declared to the ]ieople
of ICdinlnirgh by the lyon king-al-arms, assisted by

twelve heralds, and accompanied by a round from
the castle guns. Morton, taken at his word, seems
to have retired to Lochleven in a kind of pet, but
speedily contrived to regain that power by force
which he had apparently laid down of his free-will,
Having possessed himself of the castle and garrison
of Stirling, he dexterously contrived to engross the
same or at least equal power to what he possessed
as regent ; nor had he learned to temper it with
greater moderation. He brought the parliament
that had been summoned to meet at Edinburgh to
Stirling; and he carried everything in it his own
way. He also narrowly escaped kindling another
civil war; yet he still meditated the ruin of the
Ilamiltons, and the enriching of himself and his
faction by their estates. The Earl of Arran had
been for a number of years insane, and confined in
the castle of Draffan. But his brother, Lord John
Hamilton, acted as the administrator of his estates,
and Claud was commendator of Paisley ; both the
brothers had been excepted from the amnesty
granted at Perth, as being concerned in the murder
of the king and the Regent Moray, and Morton had
now formed a scheme to involve them in a criminal
sentence on that account, and to seize upon their
estates. Informed of the plot, the brothers got
happily out of the way, but their castles were seized;
and because that of Hamilton had not been given up
at the first summons, the garrison were marched to
Stirling as felons, and the commander hanged for
his fidelity. Still, ho^wever, Arran, being insane,
was guiltless, but he was made answerable for his
servants, and because they had not yielded to the
summons of the king, he was convicted of treason,
and his estates forfeited. In the same spirit of justice
and humanity Morton apprehended a schoolmaster
of the name of Turnbull, and a notary of the name
of Scott, who had written in conjunction a satire
upon some parts of his character and conduct,
brought them to Stirling, where they were convicted
of slandering " ane of the king's councillors, and
hanged for their pains." The violent dealing of the
wicked almost invariably returns upon their own
heads, and so in a short time did that of Morton;
for while he was still meditating mischief, he was
most unexpectedly accused by the king's new fa-
vourite. Captain .Stewart, of being an accomplice in
the murder of the king's father. He was instantly
committed to the castle of Edinburgh, thence
carried to Dumbarton, and tlience back to Edin-
burgh, where he was brought to trial on the 1st of
lune, 1581. Previously to his removal from Dum-
barton, the estate and title of the Earl of Arran,
which he had so ini(piitously caused to be forfeited,
were Ijcstowed upon Captain Stewart, his accuser;
who, at the same time that he was invested with
the estate and title, received a commission to bring
up the ex-regent from Dumbarton to Edinlnugh,
\\hich he did at the head of one thousand men.
When the commission \\as shown to Morton, struck
with the title, he intiuired who he was, not having
lieard oC his exaltaticjn. Being told, he exclaimed,
"'I'hen I kiKJw what I have to expect." The jury
that sal ujjon his trial was com])osed of his avowed
enemies, and though he challenged the h'.arl ol
Argyle and Lord Seton as ])rejudiced against him,
they were allowed to sit on his assize. Of the nature
of the jiroof adduced against him we kno%\- nothing,
as (lur historians have not mentioned it, and tlu'
n-eords of the court resjiecting it have either been
destroyed or lost. He was, however, jjronounced
guilty of concealing, and guilty art and ]iart in the
king's murder. "Art and part," he exclaimed twice,
Willi considerable agitation, and .striking the ground

JAMES DOUGLAS.

47S

violently with a small walking-stick, "God knows
it is not so." He hoard, however, the sentence with
perfect composure. In the interval between his
trial and execution, he felt, he said, a serenity of
mind to wliich he had long been a stranger. Re-
signing himself to his fate, he supped cheerfully, and
slept calmly for a considerable part of the night.
He was next morning visited by several of the min-
isters, and an interesting account of the conference
which John Dury and Walter Balcanquhal had with
him has been preserved. Respecting the crime for
which he was condemned, he confessed, that after
his return from England, whither he had fled for the
slaughter of Rizzio, he met Bothwell at Whittingham,
who informed him of the conspiracy against the king,
and solicited him to become an accomplice, as the
ijueen anxiously wished his death. He at first re-
fused to have anything to do with it, but after re-
peated conferences, in which he was always urged
with the queen's pleasure, he required a warrant
under her hand, authorizing the deed, which never
having received, he never consented to have any
share in the transaction. On being reminded that
his own confessions justified his sentence, he an-
swered, that according to the strict letter of the law
he was liable to punishment, but it was impossible
for him to have revealed the plot; for to whom
could he have done so? "To the queen? she was
the author of it. To the king's father? he was sic a
l)airn that there was nothing told him but he would
tell to her again; and the two most powerful noble-
men in the kingdom, Bothwell and Huntly, were
the perpetrators. I foreknew, indeed, and concealed
it," added he, "but it was because I durst not re-
veal it to any creature for my life. But as to being
art and part in the commission of the crime, I call
( lod to witness that I am entirely innocent." He was
executed l)y an instrument called the maiden, which
he himself had introduced into Scotland, on the 3d
of June, 1581. On the scaffold he was calm, his
voice and liis countenance continuing unaltered; and
after some little time spent in devotion, he suffered
death with the intrepidity that became a Douglas.
His head was place<l on the public jail, and his
body, after lying till sunset on the scaffoKl, covered
with a beggarly cloak, was carried by common por-
ters to the usual burying-jilace of criminals. "Never
was there seen,'' says Spottiswoode, "a more notable
example of fortune's mutability than in the Earl of
Morton. He who a few years before had been
reverenced l)y all men, and feared as a king, was
now at his end forsaken by all, and made the very
>corn of f irtune, to teach men how little stability
there is in honour, wealth, friendship, and the rest
of these worldly things that men do s<j much admire.
In one thing ho was nevertheless most haj^py, that
he died truly penitent, with that courage and resig-
nation which t)jcame a truly great man and a good
Christian, and in the full assurance of a blessed im-
mortal its."'

DOUGLAS. JAMKS M.rX, a skilful .anatomist
and sur^'ooii, au<l accoinp!i.>he<l ph_\>ician, was born
in ."^cotl.iiid in the year 1675. Having ciMiipleted
his preliminary educatirm, he proceeded to London,
and there applied himself <liligently to the studies of
anatomy and ^uri^ery. Medical science %\as at that
period hut littl- a Ivanced, nor were the facilities of
acquiring a proficiency in any branch of it by anv
means considerable. I 'r. Hou^jlas laboured with
assiduity U) overcome the dilTicullies against which
he had to contend; - -he stu lied carefully the works
of the ancients, which were at that time little known
to his contemporaries, and sought to supply what in

them appeared defective, by closely studying nature.
The toils of patient industry seldom go unrewarded;
and he was soon enabled so far to advance the pro-
gress of anatomy and surgcr)-, as to entitle himself
to a conspicuous place in the liistory of medicine.
His Dcscriptio Comparativa Musculorum Corporis
lIuituDii et Qiiiidrupfiiis was published in London in
1707. The quadruped he chose for his anahjgy was
the dog; and he thus appears to have proceeded in
imitation of (Jalen, who left on record an account of
the muscles of the ape and in man. "As for the
comparative part of this treatise, or the interlacing
the descriptions of the human muscles with those of
the canine, that," says Dr. Douglas, "needs no
apology. The many useful discoveries known from
the dissection of quadrupeds, the knowlc<lge of the
true stnicture of divers j>arts of the Ijody, of the
course of the blood and the chyle, and of the use
and proper action of the parts, that are chiefly owing
to this sort of dissection; these, I say, give a very
warrantable plea for insisting upon it, th(jugh it may
be censured l)y the vulgar." His descriptions of the
muscles, their origin and insertion, and their various
uses, are extremely accurate; and to them many re-
cent authors on myology, of no mean authority, have
been not a little indebted. It soon obtained C(jn-
siderable notice on the Continent, where, in 1738,
an edition ajipeared in Latin, by John Frederic
-Schreiber. His anatomical chef d\xuvrc, however,
was the description he gave of the perit(jnaum, the
complicated course and reflexions of which he
pointed out with admirable accuracy. His account,
entitled A Dcscriplion oj the Peritornniin, and of that
Part of the Memhra/ia Cellular is i^luch lies on its
Outside, appeared in London in the year 1 730.
Nicholas Massa and others of the oltler anatomists
had contended that the peritoneum was a uniform
and continuous membrane, but it remained for Dr.
Douglas to demonstrate the fact; in which, after
repeated dissections, he satisfactorily succeeded.
Ocular inspection can alone teach the folds and
processes of this membrane; but his description is
perhaps the best and most comj)lete that can even
yet l)e consulted. Besides his researches in anatomy,
Dr. Dcniglas laboured to advance the then rude state
of surgery. He studied particularly the diftlcult anil
painful operation of lithotomy, and introduced to
the notice of the profession the methods red'm-
mended bv Jacques, Rau, and Mcry. In the year
1726 he ]nibfished .-/ History of the j'r,t:ral Opera/;e;i
for Stone, which was reiniblished with an a; pendix
in 1733, and embraced a comparison of the n.eth.ods
used by different lilhotomists, more especially of th.at
which v,-as jiractised by Cheselden. Dr. Doui^Ias
taught for many years both anatomy and siirger) ;
antl his fame having extended, he \\a> ajpoiiuei
physician to the king, who afterwanis awarded lijn
a pension of five hundred t;uineas per annr.in. I:
may be worth noticing tliat, while ['racii-itig v\
Lond<Mi, he seems to have obtained c. ';:~i'!eral ',■
credit for having detected the impo>iti'>n .'f a\\'>n;aM
nametl Maria Tofts, who had for -ouie time inij '--^X
successfully on the jiublic. Th;- in;] o-t.r j rtter.de 1
that from time to time she v-iiderw^ii: ,11; a^cix'.e-
ment, during which .-he gave 1 lirth - m t t > ni-y liinr.an
being — but to ral>l>it>; and tb.is -'.rar.LCe decci tion she
l)ractise<l succes>fu!Iy on many w eil-edixate ! per-' r.-.
Dr. Douglas detected the Irau i. and e\r!a;r.e.l the
mode by which it was enacted, in an adve:t;>ciner t
which he i)i;l>Ii-hed in .!/,;;.;;.;.\v .•/;.> feiirr:,!:.
During the period that Dr. I ioi;-la- leUa.'-ed en
anati>mv, he \\a- v.aitei \y:->:\ bv Mr. (.-.t'terwarii-
the celebrated Dr.) WiHiani llu:;ter. \v h . -.licitel
his advice in tlie direction of hi- ^tu<>,e>. riea:;ed

476

JAMES DOUGLAS, M.D. JOHN DOUGLAS, D.D.

with his address, and knowing his industry and
talents, Dr. Douglas appointed him his assistant,
and invited him to reside under his roof — an invita-
tion which Mr. William Hunter could not accept
until he had consulted Dr. CuUen, with whom he
had previously arranged to enter, when he had fin-
ished his education, into partnership, for the purpose
of conducting the surgical part of his practice; but
his friend Dr. Cullen, seeing how important to him
would be his situation under Dr. Douglas, relin-
quished cheerfully his former agreement; and young
Hunter was left at liberty to accept the situation he
desired. He thus became the assistant of, and found
a kind benefactor in. Dr. Douglas; who must have
been amply rewarded, had he lived to see the high
fame to which his pupil attained. Thus often it
happens that the patron and preceptor of an obscure
and humble boy, fosters talents which afterwards
rise and shine with even greater brilliancy than his
own. Dr. Douglas not only attended to the prac-
tical duties of his profession, but excelled in what
may be termed its literary department. He was an
erudite scholar, and published a work entitled Biblio-
graphiis Aiiatomica: Specimen, sen Calalogiis pene
Omnium Aitctorum qui ab Plippocrate ad Ha7'veium
Rem Anatomicam ex professo vel obiter script is illus-
irarunt. This work appeared in London in the year
1715, and was republished in Leyden in 1734, which
edition was enriched by several important additions
from the pen of Albinus. Portal, in his history of
anatomy and surgery, thus eulogizes this valuable
work: — "C'est le tableau le plus fidele, et le plus
succinct de I'anatomie ancienne. Douglas fait en
peu de mots I'histoire de chaque anatomiste, indique
Lurs editions, et donne une legere notice de leurs
ouvrages; sa liste des ecrivains est tres etendue . . .
cet ouvrage est une des meilleurs modelles qu'on
puisse suivre pour donner I'histoire d'une science, et
j'avoue que je m'en suis beaucoup servi."^ Haller,
when in London, visited Dr. Douglas, and informs
us that he was highly pleased with his anatomical
preparations; ])articularly with those which exhibited
tlie motions of the joints, and the internal structure
of the bones. A tribute of admiration from such a
man as the illustrious Haller cmnot be too highly
appreciated; — he observes that he found him "a
Ijarned and skilful person; modest, candid, and
obliging, and a very diligent dissecter." Besides
devoting his attention to those departments of his
jirofession in the exercise of which he was most
particularly engaged, Dr. Douglas seems to have
pursued botany, not only as a recreation, but as a
graver study. In the year 1725 he pul^lislied /-//.'V^//^
S.irmiense, or a description of the Guernsey lily.
Hi-, work, descriptive of this Ijeautiful flower, ap-
j)eared in folio, illustrated by a plate, and is an
admirable monograph. He also analyzed with
jijculiar care tlie coiTee-seed, and published a work
ciitilled Arbor Yemcnsis, a descri])tion and history
of the coffee-tree, which may still be consul led as
containing a great deal of curifms and valualjle in-
formation. We also find in the Transactions of tlie
Koyal Society of London, that he contriljuted to that
work a descrijition of the llower and seed-vessel of
the Crocus autntnnalis sati''us, and an essay on the
different kinds of ii)ecacuanha. hi addition to lliese
labours, more or le.-,s connected with his immediate
professional avocatif)ns, we find that he collecteri, at
a great expense, all the editions of Horace whicli had
been puljlished from I476 to 1 739. Dr. Harwood,

' Ifi.itoiri' dr V Annto}itie et de la C/iirurgie, par M. P'lrtnl.
lecteur tin rf>i et profcs'^ciir dc inclicine au Collcfjc r(jy.ile dc
1-ranc?, b. I'aii-,, 1770, turn. iv. p. 403.

in his view of Greek and Roman classics, observes
that "this one author multiplied, must thus have
formed a very considerable library." An accurate
catalogue of these is prefixed to Watson's Horace."

In addition to the works we have mentioned. Dr.
Douglas projected a splendid design of one on the
bones, and another on hernia, which, notwithstand-
ing the great advancement of medical science since
his time, we regret that he did not live to complete.
He died in the year 1742, in the sixty-seventh year of
his age; and when we consider the period in which
he lived, and the essential services he rendered
towards the advancement of medical science, the
homage of the highest respect is due to his memory.

DOUGLAS, John, the brother of the eminent
physician whose biography we have already given,
attained to considerable eminence as a surgeon, in
which capacity he officiated to the Westminster In-
firmary. His name is principally distinguished,
among those of other medical men, for his celebrity
as a lithotomist, and for having written a treatise
insisting on the utility of bark in mortification. His
work on the high operation for the stone obtained
for him considerable reputation, and will give the
medical reader an accurate notion of the state of the
surgical art at the period in which he lived. He
also practised midwifery, and criticized with no in-
considerable asperity the works of Chamberlain and
Chapman. He appears, indeed, to have been the
author of several controversial works, which have
deservedly drifted into obscurity. Among others we
may notice one, entitled Remarks on a Late Pompoiis
Work, a severe and very unjust criticism on Chesel-
den's admirable Osteology. He wrote some useful
treatises on the employment of purgatives in sy-
philis; but by far his most important was ^«^/rr^//;//
of Mortifications, a7id of the surprising Effect of Bark
in putting a stop to their Progress. This remedy had
already been tried successfully in gout by Sydenham;
in typhus by Ramazzini and Lanzoni; by Monro,
Wall, and Huxham, in malignant variola; and after
Rushvvorth had tried it in the gangrene following
intermittent fevers, it was introduced by Douglas,
and afterwards by Shipton, (}rindall, Werlliof, and
Heister, in ordinary cases of gangrene.'* This same
Scottish family, we may add, gave birth to Robert
Douglas, wdio published a treatise on the generation
of animal heat; but the rude state of physiology, and
of animal chemistry, at that i^criod, rendered abor-
tive all si:)eculation on this difficult but still inter-
esting subject of investigation.

DOUGLAS, John, D.D., IHshop of Sali.-,bury,
was born at I'iltenwcem, Fifcshire, in the year 1721.
His father was Mr. Julm Douglas, a respectable
merchant of that town, a son of a younger brother
of the ancient family of Tilliquilly. Young Douglas
commenced his education at the schools of Dunbar,
wlicnce, in the year 1736, he was removed, and en-
tered commoner of St. Mary's College, Oxford. In
the year 1738 he was elected exhibitioner on ISishop
Warner's foundation, in Raliol College; and in 1 741
he took his bachelor's degree. In order to actpure
a facility in speaking the French language, he went
abroad, and remained for some time at Montreal
in Picardy, and afterwards at Ghent in Flanders.
Having returned to college in 1 743, he was ordained
deacon, and in the following year lie was apjiointed
cha])lain to the third foot-guards, and joined the
regiment in Flanders, where it was then serving witli

2 Sc<; rdso Haller. Bih. A>mf. and Cliirurf:.

^ .S]jic>\;l, tlUtoire dc ia Medicine, toiii. v. f. 442.

JOHN DOUGLAS, D.D. ROBERT DOUGLAS.

47!

the allic'l army. Durin^j the period of his service
abroad, Dr. Douglas occupied himself chiefly in the
study of modern langxiajjes; but at the same time he
took a lively interest in the operations of the army,
and at the battle of P'ontenoy was employed in
carrying orders from General Campbell to a detach-
ment of English troops. He returned to England
along with that body of troops, which was ordered
home on the breaking out of the rebellion of 1745;
and having gone back to college, he was elected one
of the exhibitioners on Mr. Snell's foundation. In
the year 1747 he was ordained priest, and became
curate of Tilehurst, near Reading, and afterwards of
Dunstew, in Oxfordshire. On the recommendation
of Sir Charles Stuart and Lady Allen, he was
selected by the Earl of Bath to accompany his only
son Lord Pulteney, as tutor, in his travels on the
Continent. Dr. Douglas has left a MS. account of
this tour, which relates chiefly to the governments
and political relations of the countries through which
they passed. In the year 1749 he returned home;
and although Lord Pulteney was prematurely cut
off, yet the fidelity with which Dr. Douglas had
discharged his duty to his pupil, procured him the
lasting friendship and valuable patronage of the Earl
of Bath; by whom he was presented to the free
chapel of Eaton-Constantine, and the donative of
Up[)ington, in Shropshire. In the following year
(1750) he published his first literary work, 'J'he Vin-
dication of Milton from the charge of Pla.^iarism,
brouglit against him by the impostor Lauder. In
the same year he was presented l)y the Earl of Bath
to the vicarage of High l'>cal, in Shropshire, when
he vacated Eaton-Constantine. Dr. Douglas resided
only occasionally on his livings. At the desire of
the Earl of Bath he took a house in town, near Bath-
J louse, where he passed the winter months, and in
summer he generally accompanied Lord Bath to the
fashionable watering-places, or in his visits among
the nobility and gentry. In the year 1752 he married
Miss Dorothy I'ershouse, who died within three
months after her nuptials. In 1754 he published
The Criterion of Miracles. In 1755 he wrote a
pamphlet against the Ilutchinsonians, Methocli-,ts,
and other religious sects, which he publishetl under
the title of An Apology for the Clergy, anil soon after
he published an ironical defence of these sectarians,
eiititled The Destruction of the French foretold by
Kz •kiel. For many years Dr. Douglas seems to have
engaged in writing political pamphlets, an occupation
most unbecoming a clergyman. In the year 1 761
he was appointed one of his majesty's chaj^lains, and
in 1762, through the interest of the ICarl of Bath, he
was made canon of Windsor. In 1762 he siiper-
i:itt.-nded the publication of /Tiny the Tarl of Claren-
don's Tiary and Letters, and wrote the pref:ice whicli
is prelixed to that work. In June of that year he
aconqianieil the Earl of Bath to ."^pa, where he
bjcainc aci|uainted with the hereditary Prince of
liiiui-wick, who received him with marked attention,
and aUerw.ir Is hon()ure<l him with his correspond-
ence. ( )f this correspijndence (although it is known
that Dr. Douglas kept a copy of all his own letters,
and although it was valuable from its iire.-enting a
detaiiei-l account i.if the state of parties at the timei,
no trace can now be discovcrc'l. In tlie year 1764
the I'.arl of Bath died, and left his library to Dr.
Douglas; but a> (.'.■jneral Pulteney wished to [.re-
serve it in the tamily. it wa^ redeemed for /" 1000.
On the death of General Pulteney, however, it was
again left to Dr. Douglas, when it wa< a scc.md
time redeemed for the >ame >-um. In 1764 he ex-
changed his livings in Shr^n-hire fir that of St.
Austin and St. Faith in Watling Street, London.

In April, 1765, Dr. Douglas married Miss Elizalxrth
Brooke, the daughter of Henry Brudenell Brooke.
In the year 1773 he assisted Sir John Dalr}'mple in
the arrangement of his MSS. In 1776 he was re-
moved from the chajiter of Windsor to that of St.
Paul's. At the re<piest of L<jrd Sandwich, first lord
of the admiralty, he prepared fi>r publication the
journal of Cajitain Cooke's voyages. In the year
1777 he assisted Lord Hardwick in arranging and
pul)lishing his Miscellaneous Papers. In the follow-
ing year he was elected member of the Royal and the
Antiquarian Societies. In 1781, at the requer^t of
Lord Sandwich, he jirepared for publication Captain
Cooke's third and la^t voyage, to which he supplied
the introduction and notes. In the same year he was
chosen president of Zion College, and preached the
customary Latin sennon. In 1786 he was elected
one of the vice-presidents of the Antiquarian Society,
and in the month of March of the following year he
was elected one of the trustees of the British ."^luseum.
In .Se])tember, 1 787, he was made Bishoji of Carlisle.
In 1788 he succeeded to the deanery of Windsor,
for which he vacated his residentiaryship of St.
Paul's, and in 1 791 he was translated to the see of
Salisbury. And having reached the eighty-sixth
year of his age, he died on the iSth of May, 1807.
He was buried in one of the vaults of St. (jeorge's
Chapel, Windsor Castle, and his funeral was at-
tended by the Duke of Sussex.

Mr. Douglas had the honour to be a member of
the club instituted by Dr. Johnson, and is frequently
mentioned in Boswell's life of the lexicographer; he
is also twice mentioned by Goldsmith in the Retali-
ation. We are told by his son that his father v.as
an indefatigable reader and writer, and that he was
scarcely ever to be seen without a book or a pen;
but the most cxtraordinarj' feature in the career of
this reverend prelate is his uniform good fortune,
which makes the history of his life little more than
the chronicle of the honours and prefennents which
were heaped upon him.'

DOUGLAS, Ror.Ki^T, an eminent clergyman, is
said to have been a grandson of Marv' Oueen ot
Scots, through a child born by her to George Doug-
las, younger, of Lochleven, while she suffereil con-
finement hi that castle. Although this was only a
jioirular rumour, nothing else has come to our knuv, -
ledge respecting his parentage and early hi-lory. It

' The f .llowini; is .1 list <f lUshop Poccl.ns' work-: V:r. "
tif'n of .Mitton Jrom the Clut'xe r/' I'tat^uirisr:. aJJiu,
Lauder, 1750. " .-! Letter e>i the Cr:ter:e>i ,y'.l//;v(, tes.
IirincipaUy inlciulcd .is .in .intidi'te n;;.iir.vt the «r:li:
Hunic, V^lt.iirv.-. .ind the philosophers." An A/'cle^-yJe
Cter^y against the //iitc /t/nseni.i'rs. .'i/eth,\tuts. .5--> .
Pestruetion of the French foreteld by Kzekiet. i-yj-
was an ironical defence iif th'jse he had attacked ir. th.c
cediiii; pamplilet. .hi Att.ick en certain Lesi:: ks .•■'■.'
/;/ Ho-.oers /tistory cf the Fe/es. iS-'... 175''- ■■' ■" '
Defence of the .■Idniin'istnitien. 1756- l.ci:;;^ in af.a. k <•:
cabinet of that day for introducing forei.;n tr ■ [ -. /'.■:. <i
Tt!lem:-nt eem/>.tred. i-;-.-;. A I'uii CrrC:,:::; ,.■ r/ J-
Three Pefenees. The Ce<Hplete and Fir.e.i i \:e :. •: ]■ 1
The eenJuct ef the late .VeWe Ce;::>Ka':e.r !. < a < ,■
Sarl--;ite. afterirarJs Ler.i (.iecr^e Cexvar: ■.!':.::. -r.
s.\r-/-\l. 1--Cj. Tills uas the ■'.e!c::ce . : a ^ r: :.■■.
character. ".-J Letter t' /r;M (:reaf ^^■■,: ■•': :'..■//■"
ef Feiee. 17=-. A J'>:-:, ,■ ;, /,>,• 7v;c.., /. -; ,.' I:
Xe^etiatiens. i-C^. The Sent::r--rts e r a .■■e^ .;•;•;,
Freiiminaries ef Fe,:e. i-.-. .' :. .•'.-- ■■ .' '■ ara .
te Captain Cedes /'■::'-.: :'e^.,e\ /'■:■■ A-: k:: ,' ^a'\ >-■'
en the .^/artvnl r: ' /-,:-.\' i '.:'.■■. /' ■ '■■ ' '' ■ ' '
U-u^e ef L.d:i.. lyi:'. fh -A r ::r -^ : 'y. ^/^ - •"■ ■^: f'e:

lleMdes thJ-e^'ni^; ;. I' ;;.;:.- «r\- - ^.-r.,; ; :';::.':1 I.

in t!:-; /':<■■/:. .; a- :r-:s-e y i-' _\ ' ■'

tende 1 the ini'.:'.-.i;: :• 'i \ ■■ - '■ i • •■'•■■'■ •

and a-~i-tcd I.-ri li.ir ■^v;. k .e.e. >

arranjm; t:,--:rM->. :' r y: :. ' .:i -.

liearne s narr.^t.vc, aaU Vee..^:.:-. '..._■ ;;.

</.-V<7-

■J iy
'"-■'■.

'/• th-

'//.■•

•Ihis

_- prv-^

H-.

478

ROBERT DOUGLAS

SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS.

would appear that he accompanied, in the capacity
of chaplain, one of the brigades of auxiliaries sent
over from Scotland, by connivance of Charles I., to
aid the Protestant cause under Gustavus Adolphus,
in the celebrated Thirty Years' war. Wodrow, in his
Anakcta, under date 1 712, puts down some anec-
dotes of this part of Douglas' life, which, he says,
his informant derived from old ministers that had
been accfuainted with him.

" He was a considerable time in Gustavus Adol-
phus' army, and was in great reputation with him.
He was very unwilling to part with Mr. Douglas,
and when he would needs leave the army, Gustavus
said of him that he scarce ever knew a person of his
qualifications for wisdom. Said he, 'Mr. Douglas
might have been counsellor to any prince in Europe;
for prudence and knowlege, he might be moderator
to a general assembly; and even for military skill,'
said he, 'I could very freely trust my army to his
conduct.' And they said that in one of CJustavus'
engagements, he was standing at some distance on a
rising ground; and when both wings were engaged,
he observed some mismanagement in the left wing,
that was like to prove fatal, and he either went or
sent to acquaint the commanding officer; and it was
jirevented, and the day gained."

Mr. Wodrow further mentions that Douglas, while
in tlie army, havmg no other book than the Bible to
read, committed nearly the whole of that sacred
volume to memory, which was of immense service
to him in his future ministrations in Scotland. In
1 641 Douglas was one of the ministers of Edin-
burgh, and probably of considerable distinction.
On the 25th of July that year he preached before
the parliament — an honour to which he was fre-
([uently preferred tliroughout the whole course of the
civil war. According to Wodrow, he was "a great
state preacher, one of the greatest we ever had in
Scotland; for he feared no man to declare the mind
of God to him." He was a man of such authority
and boldness, that Mr. Tullidaff, himself an eminent
jireacher, declared he never could stand in the pre-
sence of Douglas without a feeling of awe. Never-
theless, says Wodrow, "he was very accessible and
easy to be conversed with. Unless a man were for
God, he had no value for him, let him be never so
great or noble." Mr. Douglas was moderator of the
General Assembly which met in 1649, and was in
general a leading member of the standing committee
iif tliat body, in comjiany with Mr. David Dickson,
Mr. Robert Blair, and others. In August, 1650, he
vas one of the commissioners sent by the clergv to
Ihni form line, to reciuest Charles II. to subscribe a
declaraliun of his sentiments for the satisfaction of
the jniblic min'l. As this dtjcument threw much
blame upon his late father, Charles refused to sub-
scribe it, and tiie commi^si<jners returned without
satisfacti<;ii, wiiith laid the fnmdalion of a division
ill the Scottish churcii. Douglas became the leading
individual oS. the ])arly which inclined to treat Charles
leniently, and which obtained the name of the Kc-
;o!!ilioncrs. In virtue of this lofty character he
officiated at the coronation of King Charles at .Scone,
[aiiuary i, lf)5l : his sermon on that occasion was
]iuhlisiied at the time, and lias since been reprinted.
It contains ample evidence of his qualifications as a
"state ])reacher," that is, a |)rcacher \\\v) commeiiled
on stale affairs in the course of his sermons a
fi^hion which rendered \\\c pidpit of tiie sevL-nteenlli
ci:nlury etjuivalent to the press of the presi'ut day.
When the royal cause was sup])ressed in .Scotland
by Cromwell, Douglas, among f)ther mend)ers of the
church commission, was sent jirisoner to London,
whence he was soon after released. At the de-

parture of General Monk from Scotland, in 1659,
Mr. Douglas joined with several other distinguished
resolutioners in sending Mr. James Sharp along with
that commander, as an agent to attend to the inter-
ests of the Scottish church in whatever turn affairs
might take. Sharp, as is well known, betrayed his
constituents, and got himself appointed Archbishoj)
of St. Andrews under the new system. While con-
ducting matters to this end, he maintained a corre-
spondence with Mr. Douglas, for the use of his
constituents in general; and this correspondence is
introduced, almost at full length, into Wodrow's
History of the Sufferings of tlie Cliitrch of Scotland.
It is said that Mr. Douglas was offered high episcopal
preferment, if he would have acceded to the new
church-system, but that he indignantly refused.
Wodrow in his diary gives the following anecdote :
"When Mr. .Sharp was beginning to a]>pear in his
true colours, a little before he went up to court and
was consecrate, he happened to be with Mr. Doug-
las, and in conversation he termed Mr. Douglas
'brother.'- He checked him and said, 'Brother! r.o
more brother, James : if my conscience had been of
the make of yours, I could have been bishop of St.
Andrews sooner than you.'" At another place,
Wodrow mentions that, "when a great person was
pressing him (Mr. Douglas) to be primate of Scot-
land, he, to put him off effectually, answered, 'I will
never be Archbishop of St. Andrews, unless the
chancellor of Scotland also, as some were before
me ;' which made the great man speak no more to
him about that affair." This great man was pro-
bably the Earl of Glencairn, who had himself been
appointed chancellor. Kirkton, another church
historian, says that when Mr. Douglas became fully
aware of Sharp's intention to accejit the primacy, he
said to him in parting, "James, I see you will en-
gage. I perceive you are clear, you will be made
Archbishop of St. Andrews. Take it, and the curse
of God with it." So saying, he clapped him on the
shoulder, and shut the door upon him.* In a pajier
which this divine afterwards wrote respecting the
new introduction of Prelacy, he made the quaint but
true remark, that the little finger of the ])rescnt
bishops was bigger than the loins of their ]iredc-
cessors. After this period Mr. Douglas ajipears to
have resigned his charge as a minister of lulinburgh.
and nothing more is learned respecting him till
1669, when the privy-council admitted him as an
indulged clergyman to the jiarish of Pencaitland in
East Lothian. The ])eriodof his death is unknown;
nor is there any certain information respecting his
family, cxcejit that he had a st)n, Alexander, who
was minister of 1-ogie, and a correspondent of i\1i',
Wodrow.

DOUGLAS, Wii.i.i AM. William Douglas, Knight
of Liddesdale, otherwise well known in i^cottish
history by the title (jf the " Flower of Chivalry," i--
reinited, on the authority of John de h'ordun, to
have been a natural son of .Sir James Douglas, the
conqianion in arms of Robert Ih-uce, and as such he
is generally designated by our Scottish historians.
Otiiers, however, make him out to have been lav\ful
son of .Sir James Douglas of Loudon. It is in vain
to iiujuire into the date of birth or the early life of the
distinguished personages of this period, as the fiisl
notice we generally receive of them is in some his-
toric action, when they had attained the age of man-
liood. .Sir William became possessor of tlic lands
of Liddesdale, through marriage with Margaret
(iraham, daughter of .Sir John Graham, Lord of
Alr-rcorn. His first military exidoit was the surprise
and discomfiture of John Baliol at Annan, alter the

SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS.

479

battle of Dupplin. On this occasion the Knij^ht of
]-iddesdalc marched under the banner of Andrew-
Murray, Earl of liotliweil; and so successful was the
small band of Scottisli patriots, that the adlierents
of the usurper were completely routed by a sudden
night attack, Haliol himself escaping with difficulty,
and more tlian half-naked, upon an unsaddled and
unbridled horse, into England. In the following
year (1333) Sir William was not so fortunate. Hav-
ing been appointed warden of the west marches, in
consequence of his able conduct in the surprise at
.\nnan, his district was soon invaded by the Eng-
lish, under Sir Anthony de Lucy; and in a battle
which ensueil near Lochmaben, towards the end of
.March, Douglas was taken prisoner, and carried to
Edwartl III., by whose command he was put in
irons, and imprisoned for two years. During this in-
terval the battle of Halidon liill occurred, in which
the Scots were defeated with great slaughter, and
their country again subdued. But in 1335 the
Knight of Liddesdale was set free, on payment of a
heavy ransom; and on returning to Scotland, he was
one of the nobles who sat in the parliament held at
Dairsie, near Cupar-Kife, in the same year. He had
not long been at liberty when a full opportunity oc-
curred of vindicating the liberties of his country, and
the rightful sovereignty of his young king, now a
minor, and living in France. Count Guy of Xamur
having crossed the sea to aid the English, invailed
.Scotland with a considerable body of his foreign men-
at-arms, and advanceil as far as Edinburgh, the castle
of which was at that time dismantled. A furious
conllict commenced, between these new invaders and
the .Scots on the Boroughmuir, in wiiicli the latter
were on the point of l)eing worsted, when the Kniglit
of Liddesdale oiijiortunely came tiown from the Pent-
lands witli a reinforcement, and defeated the enemy,
who retired for shelter to the ruins of the castle,
wliere they slew their horses and made a rampart of
their dead bodies. But hunger and thirst at last
compelled these brave foreigners to capitulate, and
they were generously allowed to return to I'2ngland
unmolested, on condition of serving no longer in a
.Scottisli invasion.

This successful skirmish was followefl by several
others, in which the Knight of Liddesdale t':)ok an
important share. He then jiassed over into Fife, and
took in succession tlie castles of .St. .\ndrews, Falk-
land, and Leuchars, that held out for the l'".nglish.
.\fter this he returned to Lothian, and betook iiim-
self to his favourite haunts of the I'entlands, thence
to sally out against the luiglish as occasion offered.
Tlie chief object of his solicitude was Edinburgli
Cattle, which he was eager to wrest from the enemy.
On one t)f these occasions, learning that the English
soldiers in the town harl liecome conhdent and care-
less, he at night suddenly rushed down ujion them
from his fastne.-ses, and slew400of their number, while
t!iey were stupificd with sleep and drunkenness. It
\vas to a warfare in detail of tiiis description that the
.^cots invariably betook tliemselves when the enemy
were in too great i'lrce to be encountered in a general
action; and it was by such skirmislies that liiey
generally recovered their natiorial freedom, even
when their cause seemed at the worst. .-Vfter this,
by a series of daring enterprises, William Doug-
las recovore<l Teviotdale, Annandale, Xitlis^Iale, and
Clydesdale from tlie F;igli-li. Tliese successes so
raised his reputation, that 1 leiuy. V..\i\ of Derby, who
was appointed to the command uf the English troojis
i \ Seotlanil, was e.ager to try his valour in single com-
bat with the bold insurgent. They accordingly en-
countered on horseback at Berwick, but at the thst
career DouLilas was so severelv w ounded in the hand

by accident with his own lance that the combat had
to l)c stayed. Soon after the Knight of Liddes-
dale, in an encounter with .Sir Thomas Barclay, was
worsted, with the loss of all his followers except
three, himself escaping with dift'iculty through the
darkness of the night. But this mischance he soon
retrieved by a series of skirmishes, in which, with
greatly mferior numbers, he routed the English, and
shook their j)o.-.ses.->i<jn of Scotland. But his most
remarkable e.\])loit of this nature was a desperate
encounter, or rather scries of encounters, which he
had in the c(mrse of one day with .'^ir Laurence
Abernethy, a leader of the party of Baliol. On this
occasion Sir William Douglas was fjur times defeated;
but with unconfjuerable jtertinacity he still returned
to the charge, and in the fifth was completely vic-
torious. It was by these ex|)loits, and especially the
last, that he worthily won the title of the "Flower
of Chivalry." After this he was sent by the High-
steward, now governor of Scotland, to France, to'
communicate the state of affairs to his young sove-
reign, David, and obtain assistance from the French
king. In this mission he was so successful, that he
soon returned with a squadron of five French ships
of war, that sailed up the Tay to aid the steward,
at this time employed in the siege of Berth, which
was held by the English. .Sir William joined the
besiegers, but was wounded in the leg by a javelin
discliarged from a springald, and unfitted for a time
for further action. So opportime, however, was his
arrival with the reinforcement, that the Scots, whu
were about to abandon the siege, resumed it wi;h
fresh vigour, and Perth was soon after taken.

The cause of Baliol was now at so low an el b.
and the country so cleared of the enemy, that little
remained in their possession except the castle ci
Edinburgh, from which the Knight of Liddesdale
was eager to expel them. But the garrison were sc ■
numerous, and the defences so strong, that an open
siege was hopeless, and he therefore had recourse u>
stratagem. He prevailed upon a merchant sea-
captain of Dundee, named W alter Curry, to bring
his shi]5 round to the Forth, and pretend to be an
Englishman j^ursued liy the ."^cots, and desircjus oi
the protection of the castle, offering at the same time
to supply the garrison with ])rovisions. Tlie strata-
gem succeeded. The commander of the castle be-
spoke a cargo of victuals on the following morning,
and Douglas, who was lurking in the neighboiuhuii.i,
at the head of 200 followers, at this intelligence dis-
guised himself and twelve of his men \v[u\ the gray
frocks of the mariners thrown over their armor.r, ai.I
joined the convoy of Curry. The gates were ojteiiei';.
and the dra\\bridge lowered, to give entrance Ui ti.e
waggons and their pretended dri\er.-; but as suoi.
as they came under the gateway, tliey stabbed tin
waixler, and lilew a horn to summon the rest nt tlu;r
party to the spot. Iklore these could arri\e. t!'.'.
cry of treason rang through the castle, aiici lii, i;_^!.-.
the governor and his soltiiers ujmn tlx' ('.ar;i:g ;>-
sailaiits, who wnuld soon b.ave JK-eu o\t ri"n\ cici.
but ior their gallant defence in the r,arr>Av ^.-.ie«ay.
wliile they had taken the j^recaut:.>:i s>) t > air.-: 1,1
the waggons that the iiortcuiii- could r..'t \'c l.iwue'i.
In the meantime, tlie fnili iwe/s ct Di'i;_:..'.s ii>'..i..
up tlie castle-hill, and eiitere 1 the e. :.:l;e;. \\!i e":
they maintained with sueii vig^'ur. t'.;at iiie \\h<.le
garrison were put to tlie sv,": :. excej't l.::;i< -;ii. tile
governor, and six s>niiie-. ^'. ii ' e-ea:ei;. Alter th.-
important acquisitiMii. tiie Kn;.^;it it 1 .i'!'ies(!a.i,
placed the castle ur.iler t;ie e^ 'niniaiv.l < ■!" .\rch;l r.; i
Douglas, one of In- reia:;-. e-.

Scotland was tiir.s c ii:;; '.ctely freed fr'-ni the
enemy, and the j ewp'.e we;-e iiujatieir. L^r tiic return

4So

SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS.

of their king from France, to which country he had
been sent in boyhood, during the ascendency of the
BaHol faction. Accordingly, David II., now in his
eighteenth year, landed at Innerbervie on the 4th
of June, 1341, and was received with rapture by his
subjects, who recognized in him the pledge of their
national freedom, as well as the son of their "good
King Robert." But this feeling was soon damped
by the difficulties of the young sovereign's position,
as well as the indiscretions of his government. As
for the Knight of Liddesdale, he, like his compatriots,
had so long been accustomed to independent military
command during the interregnum, that he was un-
willing to submit to royal authority when it opposed
his own personal interests; and of this he soon gave
a fatal proof, in the foul murder of Sir Alexander
Ramsay of Dalwolsie, as brave a leader and a better
man than himself, because the latter was appointed
keeper of Roxburgh Castle, and sheriff of Teviotdale,
offices which Douglas thought should have been con-
ferred upon himself, as he had recovered these places
from the enemy with much toil and hazard. The
particulars of this revolting atrocity are too well
known, both from history and popular tradition, to
require a further account. It is enough to state that
after such a deed — as cowardly as it was cruel, even
accortling to the principles of chivalry itself — the
Knight of Liddesdale continued to be entitled, as
well as esteemed, the "Flower of Chivalry;" and
that David II., so far from being able to punish the
murderer, was obliged to invest him with the office
for the sake of which the crime had been com-
mitted.

After this action, and during the short interval of
peace that continued between England and Scotland,
the cliaracter of Sir William Douglas, hitherto so
distinguished for patriotism, appears to have become
very cjuestionable. This has been ascertained from
the fact, that Edward III. was already tampering
with him to forsake the .Scottish and join the Eng-
lish interests, and for this purpose had appointed
Henry de Percy, Maurice de Berkeley, and Thomas
de Lacy "his commissioners," as tlieir missive fully
exj)ressed it, "with full powers to treat of, and con-
clude a treaty with William Douglas, to receive him
into our failii, peace, and amity, and to secure him
in a reward." Such a negotiation could scarcely
have been thought of, unless Douglas even already
had been exliibiting synijitoms of most unpatriotic
wavering. lie held several meetings, not only with
these commissioners, but also with I'aliol himself,
and a[)pears to have fully accorded to their proposals,
and agreed to accept the wages of the English king.
But whether the jiromised advantages were too un-
certain, or the risk of such a change of principle
too great, the treaty was abruptly broken off; and
Douglas, as if to quell all suspicion, made a furious
inroad, at the head of a large force, across the Eng-
lish border, altliough the truce between the two
countries still continued; burned Carlisle and I'enrilii;
and after a skirmish with the Englisii, in which the
Bishop of Carlisle was unhorsed, lie retreated hastily
into .Scotland. By this act the truce was at an uiid,
and David II., believing the f)]>portunily to he
favourable for a great English invasion, as Ivlward
III. with the flower of his army was now in I" ranee,
assembled a numerous army, with which he advanced
to tile I'lnglish border, and took the castle of I.iddej
after a six days' siege. It was now that the Kniglit
of Liddesdale counselled a retreat. His experience
had taught him the strength of the Englisii nortjiern
counties, and the warlike character of their barons,
and perhaps he had seen enough of the militaiy
character of David to question his fitness for sucli a

difficult entcqirise. But his advice was received
both by king and nobles with indignation and scom.
"Must we only fight for your gain?" they fiercely
re]ilied; "you have filled your own coffers with Eng-
lish gold, and secured your own lands by our valour,
and now you would restrain us from our share in the
plunder? ' They added, that England was now
emptied of its best defenders, so that nothing stood
between them and a march even to London itself,
but cowardly priests and base hinds and mechanics.
Thus, even already, the moral influence of William
Douglas was gone, the patriotic character of his past
achievements went for nothing, and he was obliged
to follow in a career where he had no leading voice,
and for which he could anticipate nothing but disaster
and defeat.

The Scottish army continued its inroad of merci-
less desolation and plunder until it came near Dur-
ham, when it encamped at a place which Fordun
calls Beau-repair, but is now well known by the
name of Bear-park. It was as ill chosen as any
locality could have been for such a purpose; for the
Scottish troops, that depended so much upon unity
of action for success, were divided into irregular un-
connected masses by the hedges and ditches with
which the ground was intersected, so that they re-
sembled sheep inclosed within detached hurdles,
ready for selection and slaughter; while the ground
surrounding their encampment was so undulating
that an enemy could approach them before they were
aware. And that enemy, without their knowing it,
was now within six miles of their encampment. The
English barons had bestirred themselves so effectually
that they were at the head of a numerous force, and
ready to meet the invaders on equal terms. On the
morning of the day on which the battle occurred,
the Knight of Liddesdale, still fearing the worst, rode
out at the head of a strong body of cavalry, to ascer-
tain the whereabouts of the English, and procure
forage and provisions; but he had not rode far when
he unexpectedly found himself in front of their whole
army. He was instantly assailed by overwhelming
nniltitudes, and, after a fierce resistance, compelled to
flee, with the loss of 500 men-at-arms; while the first
intelligence which the Scots received of the enemy's
approach was from the return of Douglas on Ihc
spur, with the few sur^dvors, who leaped the iii-
closures, and their pursuers, who drew bridle, and
waited the coming of their main l)ody. Into the
particulars of the fatal conflict that fi.llowed, com-
monly called the battle of Durham, which was
fought on the 17th of October, 1346, it is not ov.r
purpose at present to enter: it was to the Scots a
mournful but fitting conclusion to an attempt rashly
undertaken, and wise counsels scornhilly rejected.
Fifteen thousand of their soldiers fell; their king,
and the chief of their knights and nobles, were taken
prisoners; and among the latter was Sir NViiliam
Douglas, who, along wjtli the Earl of Moray, had
commanded the right wing. He was again to be-
come the inmate of an English prison ! 'I'he capture
of such an enemy, also, was reckoned so important,
that Robert de liertram, the sohlier who took him
jjrisoner, ojjtained a pensi<jn of 200 merks to him
and his heirs, until the king, now absent in France,
should ])rovide him in lands of ecpial value.

The history of a ])risoner is commonly a blank;
but to this the cajjtivity of Douglas forms an exce|)-
tion. He was still able to nurse his feuds and ^^•rcak
lii^ resentments, and of this Sir David Berkeley soon
had fatal ex]ierience. This man, who had assassin-
ated Sir Joiin Douglas, brother of the Knight (;f
I.iddodale, was himself assassinated bySir joim St.
Michael, purchased, as was alleged, to commit this

SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS.

481

deed !>>• Sir William himself. This occurred in
1350, after the latter had been in prison nearly four
years. In the meantime, Edward III., beinij in
want of money for the prosecution of his French
wars, emleavoured to recruit his empty coffers by
the ransom of the prisoners taken at the battle of
Durham, so that many of the Scottish nobles were
enabled to return to their homes; but from this
favour the Knight of Liddesdale was excepted. The
King of England knew his high military renown and
influence in Scotland; and it is probable that upon
these qualities, combined with the knight's unscru-
pulous moral character, he depended greatly for the
furtherance of a scheme which he had now at heart.
This was the possession of .Scotland, not, however,
by conquest, which had been already tried in vain,
or through the vice-royalty of Baliol, who was now
thrown aside as a worthless instrument, but through
the voluntary consent and cession of King David
himself. David was a childless man; he was weary
of his captivity, and ready to purchase liberty on any
terms; and the High-steward of .Scotland, who had
been appointed his successor by the .Scottish parlia-
ment, failing heirs of his own body, had shown little
anxiety for the liberation of his captive sovereign.
(Jn these several accounts David was easily induced
to enter into the purposes of the English king. The
Knight of Liddesdale was also persuaded to jiurchase
his liberty upon similar terms; and thus Scotland
had for its betrayers its own king and the bravest of
its champions. The conditions into which Douglas
entered with Edward III. in this singular treaty were
the following: — He bound himself and his heirs to
serve the King of England in all wars whatever,
except against his own nation; with the proviso
annexed, that he might renounce, if he pleased, the
benefit of this exception: that he shoultl furnish ten
men-at-armsand ten light horsemen, for three months,
at his own charges: that, should the French or other
foreigners join the .Scots, or tlie .Scots join the French
or other foreigners, in invading England, he should
do his utnicjNt to annoy all the invailers "except the
Scots:'" that he should not openly, or in secret, give
counsel or aiil against the King of England or his
heirs, in behalf of his own nation or of any others:
that the English should do no hurt to his lands or
his people, and his people do no hurt to the English,
except in self-defence: that he should permit the
English at all times to pass through his lands with-
out molestation: that he should renounce all claim
to the cattle of Liddel: and that should the English,
or the men of the estates of the Knight of Litldes-
dale, injure each other, by firing houses or stack-
yards, plundering, or committing any such offences,
the treaty should not thereby be annulled; but that
the parties now contracting should forthwith cau>e
the damage to be mutually licjuidated anil repaired.
To thc>e strange terms Douglas was to subscribe by
oath for their exact fulfilment, on ]iain of being held
a disloyal and pL-rjured man and a false liar (what
else did nucH a treaty make him?); and that he
should give hi^ daugliter and hi> nearest male heir
as hr;-,t.igL'>. to remain in the custody of the King of
England for two years. In return for all this he was
to i>c released from cajitivity, and to have a grant of
the territory of Lidiie-.dale, Ilennitagc Cattle, and
certain laniU in the interii^ir of .Annandale.

.Sir William, having obtaiiied his liberty at such
a shameful price, returned to Scotland, and atlem])ted
to jHit his treasonable designs in execution. Ihit
during his ahr^ence another William Douglas had
taken his place in iutluence and estimation. This
was the nephew of the good Sir James, also his own
god-son, whi.i, ha\ing been bred to arms in the wars

VOL. I.

in France, had retume<l to .Scotland, and assumed
his place as the head of the Douglases, a position
which his valour wa.s well fitte^l to maintain, for he
quickly drove the English from Douglasdale, Eltrick
Forest, and Teviotdale. To him the Knight of
Liddesdale ap])lied, in the ho]>e of winning him over
to the cause of Edward; but this nobleman not only
rejected the base propo;,al, but, being made thus
aware of the treachery on foot, assemble<l his vassals,
broke into Oalloway, and compelled the barons of
that wild district to renounce the cause of England,
and return to their rightful allegiance. Soon after,
Annandale, which the treacherous knight had de-
signed to make the head-quarters of his perfidiou.s
movements, was overrun and occupied by the High-
steward and his son. Thus .Sir \Villiam was foiled
at every point, and that chiefly through the agency
of his own god-son, whom he therefore hated with
a deadly hatred. These failures were soon close<l
by a deadly temiination. One day, \\ hile the Knight
of Liddesdale was hunting in the depths of Ettrick
Forest, he was set upon and slain at a place called
Galford, by a band of armed men employed for that
jiurpose by Lord William himself The causes of
such a deed — which in the estimation of the church
was nothing less than spiritual parricide, on account
of the religious relationship of the parties — can
scarcely be found in the contending interests of the
rivals, and the mutual injuries that had passed l)e-
tween them; and therefore it was alleged that the
"Flower of Chivalrv-," whose morals were those of
too many knights of the period, had seduced the
affections of Lord William's wife, and was thus re-
quited for his crime. .Such was the report of the
time, and F'ordun has quoted the following ver.-^e
from an ancient ballad upon the subject: —

"The Countess of Douglas out of her bower she came,

-And loudly there did she call,
'It is for the Lord of Liddesdale

That I let the tears down fall.'"

The body, on being found, was carried to Linden
Kirk, a chapel in Ettrick Forest, and afterwards in-
terred in ^Ielrose Abbey. But by his murder of
Ramsay, as well as his subsequent treason, Sir
William Douglas had obliterated the recollection of
his great and gallant deeds, so that he died unre-
gretted, and was soon forgot.

DOUGLAS, Sir Wii.i.lwi, was the illegitimate
son of .Sir Archibald, Lord of Cialloway. cimmonly
called the ISlack Douglas; but in tho>e days the
bend sinister upon the >hield of one v. ho was other-
wise a good knight and true, was not attended \\i\]\
the o])])robrium that branded it in earl'er or later
])eriods. (_)f all the heroes of the illu->trinu> hor.-e
from which he sprung. Sir William ajijiear.- to liave
been the mo>t amiable; while in dce'ls of arms,
although his career was cut short at an early jieri".',
he equalled the greate>t of his name. Hi.- ]er-'n.-.l
advantages, in an age when the>e were oi ligl-.e-t
account, corresponded with hi- rc]''Utatioi-. ; l^;- he
was not only c^f a beautiful countenniKe. bat a t.-.ll.
commanding firm; while lu- strengtli ^\.^■• stiLh th.T.
few could cope with him on equal terni-. His
manners also were so getitle anl engn^;-.!!^-, th.-t he
was as much the delight of hi- frienis a- !:e v. a- t!;e
terror of his enemie-.' He w.-.^ a vmng v.arr; ir, in

1 John de For'-:: th
and mental: -" H.c 1:
sed o..s,-,su-;; f-T-ia ci^
.-iff.ibilis. diilL-.s f! a:-. ;■■
The fidelilv ■;' th.~ -:■-■
fact that lie F'.:\:u:i ^
tc;iipor.iri.;.

. hi- qiin;;::;-. I'th c -rprre;.:
;^\\'i:^:i'i:!i'a, ".ne 'f his Culi-

31

aS:

SIR WILLIAM DOUGLAS

WILLIAM DOUGLAS.

short, whom Homer would have selected as his
hero, or early Greece have exalted into a demigod.
As his career was to be so brief, it was early com-
menced; for we find, that while still very young, he
was distinguished not only by his personal feats of
valour, but his abilities as a leader, so that in his
many skirmishes with the English he was generally
successful, even when the latter were greatly superior
in numbers. Nor were the charms of romance want-
ing to complete his history. Robert II., his sovereign,
had a beautiful daughter called Egidia, who was
sought in marriage not only by the noblest of her
father's court, but by the King of France, who, in
the true fashion of chivalry, had fallen in love with
lier from the descriptions of his knights that had
visited Scotland as au.xiliaries, and who privately
sent a painter thither, tliat he might obtain her
picture. But to the highest nobility, and even to
royalty itself, Egidia preferred the landless and ille-
gitimate, but brave, good, and attractive Sir William
Douglas, who had no inheritance but his sword. It
was wonderful that in such a case the course of true
love should have run smooth: but so it did. Robert
II. approved of her affection, and gave her hand to
the young knight, witli the fair lordship of Nithsdale
for her dowry.

Sir William was not permitted to rest long in
peace with a beautiful princess for his bride; for the
piracies of tlie Irish upon the coast of Galloway, in
the neighljourhood of his new possession, sumnioned
him to arms. Resolved to chastise the pirates upon
their own territory, and in tlieir own strongliolds, he
mustered a force of 50x3 lances and tiieir military
attendants, crossed the Irisli Sea, and made a descent
upon the coast in the neighbourhood of the town of
Carlingford. Being unable to procure boats for the
landing of his small army simultaneously, he advanced
witli a part of it, and made a Ijold assault upon the
outworks of the town. Struck with terror, the in-
hil:)ilants, even though their ramparts were still
unsealed, made pn;posals for a treaty of surrender;
and to obtain sufficient time to draw up the terms,
they promised a large sum of money. Sir W'illiam
Douglas received their envoys with courtesy, and
trusting to their good faith in keeping the armistice,
he sent out 2CX) of his soldiers, under the command
of Roljcrt .Stuart, laird of Durriesdeer, to bring pro-
visions to his sliips. But it was a hollow truce on
tile jiart of the men of Carlingford, for they sent by
night a messenger to Dundalk, where the Englisli
Were in greatest force, representing tlie small number
of the .Scots, and tlie ease witli which tiiey might be
overpowered. Five hundred lilnglish h(jrse rode out
(jf Dundalk at the welcome tidings, and came down
unexi>ectedly u])on the Scots, while the men of
fjarlingford sallied from their gates in great numbers,
to aiil in tramiiling down their enemies, who in the
faith of the truce were eni])loyed in hading their
vessels. But 1 )(mglas instantly drew up his small
band into an imjieiietrahle phalanx; their long s])ears
tiirew off the attacks of the cavalry; and notwith-
standing their immense superiority, the enemy were
conijjletcly routed, and driven off the field. J''or this
])reach of treaty the t(jwn of Carlingford wa-, burned
to the ground, and fifteen merchant ships, laden
with goods, that lay at anchor in the harbour, were
>ei/,e(i by the Scots. On returning homeward,
Douglas landed on the Isle of .Man, which In-
ravaged; and after this his little armament, enriched
\viih spoil, anchored safely in Loch Ryan, in (.iallo-
wav.

As soon as he had stejipcd on shore, .Sir William
lieard, for the first time, of the extensive inroad tliat
had commenced upon tlie 1-nglish border in 13SS,

which ended in the victory of Otterburn; and eager
for fresh honour, instead of returning home, he rode
to the Scottish encampment, accompanied by a band
of his bravest followers. In the division of the army,
that was made for the purpose of a double invasion,
Sir William was retained with that part of it which
was destined for the invasion of England by the way
of Carlisle, and thus he had not the good fortune to
accompany James, Earl of Douglas, in his daring
inroad upon Durham. After the battle of Otter-
burn, an interval of peace between England and
Scotland succeeded, of which Sir William was soon
weary; and, impatient for military action, he turned
his attention to the Continent, where he found a
congenial sphere of occupation. Of late years, the
mingled heroism and devotion of the crusading spirit,
which had lost its footing in Syria, endeavoured to
find occupation in the extirpation or conversion of
the idolaters of Europe; and the Teutonic knights,
the successors of the gallant Templars, had already
become renowned and powerful by their victories in
Prussia and Lithuania, whose inhabitants were still
benighted pagans. Sir William resolved to become
a soldier in what he doubtless considered a holy war,
and enlist under the banner of the Teutonic order.
He accordingly set sail, and landed at Dantzic, wdiich
was now the head-quarters and capital of these mili-
tary monks. It ajjpears, from the history of the
period, that the order at present was filled with bold
adventurers from every quarter of Europe; but,
among these, the deeds of the young Lord of Niths-
dale were soon so pre-eminent, that lie was appointed
to the important charge of admiral of the fleet — an
office that placed him in rank and importance nearest
to the grand-master of the order. Two hundred and
forty ships, such as war-ships then were, sailed under
his command — an imjiortant fact, which l*"ordun is
careful to specify. But even already the career of
.Sir William was about to terminate, and that too
by an event which made it matter of regret that he
had not fallen in his own country upon some well-
fought field. Among the adventurers from I'.ngland
who had come to the aid of the Teutonic knights,
was a certain Lord Cliflord, whose national jealousy
had taken such umbrage at tlie honours conferred
upon the illustrious Scot, that he first insulted, and
then challenged him to single combat. Tlie day and
place were apj^ointed with the usual formalities; and
as such a conflict must be at outrancc, .Sir William
repaired to France to ]nocure good armour against
the approaching trial. His adversary then took
advantage of this alisence to calumniate him as a
coward who hail deserted the aiipointmcnt ; but
hearing this rumour .Sir William hastily returned t<>
1 )ant/.ic, and juesejited himself before the set day.
It was now Clifford's turn to lreml)le. He dreaded
an encounter wilii sucli a rednubted antagonist; and
to avoid it he hired a band of assassins, liy whom
Sir \\'illiam was basely murdered. This event must
have ha])])ened somewhere about the year 1390 91.
In this way .Sir William Dt>uglas, like a gigantic
shadow, a])i)ears, ])asses, and vanishes, and fills but
a brief ])age of tliat history which he might have so
greatly amplified and so brightly adonieil. At his
(leath he left but one child, a daughter, by the I'rin-
ce>.> Egidia, who, on attaining maturitv, Mas married
to William, ICarl of Orkney.

DOUGLAS, William. This excellent minia-
ture painter was born in h'ifesliire, Ajuil 14, \~i'&0,
and was a lineal descendant of the Douglases of
( ilenbervie. 1 lis education was carefully conducted,
and he was an accomplished scholar both in the
ancieii'. ail 1 modern languages. From childhood,

GEORGE DRUMMOND.

483

however, his principal inclination was for drawing;
and while a boy at school, he would often leave his
jilayfellows to their sport, that he might watch the
effect of light and shade upon the landscape, or study
the perspective of the furrows in a newly ploughed
field. These early lessons in art, dictated by nature
herself, and studied with enthusiastic affection, were
afterwards of great service to the artist both in his
landscapes and portraits. When a more formal
education to his profession was necessary, he became
a pupil of Mr. Robert Scott of Edinburgh, and was
fellow-apprentice of Mr. John Burnet, the distin-
guished engraver, of whom mention has been made
in this work.'

Having adopted miniature painting as his profes-
sion, William Douglas soon exhibited such e.\cellence
in that department as to establish for himself a high
and lasting reputation. Ilis productions were not only
distinguished by genius, fancy, taste, and delicacy,
but by that higher quality of combination which indi-
cated that he was no mere copyist, but an artist of
true original power; and they speedily found their way
into some of the finest collections both of England
and Scotland. Many of the nobility and gentry of
])oth kingdoms patronized him, among whom may
especially be mentioned the Buccleuch family; and
in July, 1S17, he was appointed miniature painter for
Scotland to the lamented Princess Charlotte, and
her husband Prince Leopold, afterwards King of the
IJelgians. Correspondent also with his professional
excellence was his general intellectual refinement,
his varied knowledge, and reflective powers, which
drew from Cieorge Combe, the distinguishetl phreno-
I'lgist and ethical writer, the following encomium:
*'The author would take this o]i]iortunity of stating,
that if he has been at all successful in depicting any
of the bolder features of nature, this he in a great
measure owes to the conversation of his respected
friend, William Douglas, Esq., Edinburgh, who was
no less a true poet than an eminent artist." It was
a high eulogy from one not given to flatter, and
upon a friend whose voice he should no longer hear.

In consequence of the numerous professional en-
gagements which the celebrity of our miniature
]iainter entailed upon him, he could not find time to
contribute to the annual artistic exhibitions in Edin-
burgh; but his works were frequently to be seen
upon the walls of the Royal Academy at .Somerset
House, where they were received with cordial wel-
come, and met with general admiration. In tliis
tranquil cliaracter his life went onward, leaving little
more to record except his social and domestic worth,
by which he was equally endeared to his friends and
his family, .\fter a successful artistic career, William
Douglas died at his house in Hart Street, Edinburgh,
on the 30th of January, 1S32, leaving a widow, a
son, and two daughters.

DRUMMOXD, (;i:(>Rr,F., provost of Edinburgh,
was b)rn on the 27th of June, 16S7. He was the
son of (ieorge Druniincntl of Xcwton — a branch of
tlie noble family of Perth; and was educated at the
schiiols of Edinburgh, where he early disjilayed
sujierior abilities, jxtrticularly in the science of cal-
culation, fir whic!i he had a na'.ural predilection,
and in whicli he acipiired an almost unequalled pro-
ficiencv. \or w.i^ this attainment long of being
called into u>e, and tliat on a very momentous occa-
sion ; fo", when only eighteen years of age, he wa~-
requested by the committee of tlie Scotti>h ]iarlia-
ment appointed to examine and settle tlie national
accounts preparatory to the Ieg;>lative union of the

J'j.i:::c3 DuriKt. p. rjo.

two kingdoms, to afford his assistance; and it is
generally believed that most of the calculations were
made by him. So great was the satisfaction which
he gave on that occasion to those at the head of the
-Scottish affairs, that on the establishment of the
excise in 1707, he was appointed accountant-general,
when he was just twenty years of age.

Mr. Drummond had early imbibed those political
principles which seated the present royal family on
the throne; hence he took an active part on the side
of government in the rebellion of 1715. It was to
him that the ministry owed their first intelligence of
the Earl of Marr having reached Scotland to raise
the standard of insurrection. He fought at the
battle of Sheriff-muir, and was the first to apprise the
magistrates of Edinburgh of Argyle's victory; which
he did by a letter written on horseback, from the
field of battle. On the lOth of Eebruary, 1715, Mr.
Drummond had been promoted to a seat at the
board of excise; and on the rebellion being extin-
guished, he returned to Edinburgh, to the active
discharge of his duties. On the 27th April, 1717,
he was appointed one of the commissioners of the
board of customs. In the same year he was elected
treasurer of the city, which office he held for two
years. In 1722-23, he was dean of guild, and in
1725 he was raised to the dignity of lord-provost.
In 1727 he was named one of the commissioners
and trustees for improving the fisheries and manu-
factures of -Scotland, and on the 15th October, 1737,
he was promoted to be one of the commissioners of
excise.

Xo better proof can be given of the high estima-
tion in which Mr. Drummond was held by govern-
ment, than his rapid promotion ; although the con-
fidential correspondence which he maintained with
Mr. Addison on the affairs of Scotland was still
more honourable to him.

The wretched state of poverty and intestine dis-
ortier in which -Scotland was left by her native
princes, when they removed to England, and which
was at first aggravated by the union of the kingdoms,
called forth the exertions of many of our most
patriotic countiymen; and foremost in that hcm-
ourable band stood George I)rummond. To him
the city of Edinburgh in jiarticular owes much. He
was the ]irojector of many of those improvements,
which, commenced under his auspices, have advanced
with unexampled rajiidity; insomuch that Edinburgh,
already a worn-out little capital, has risen, almost
within the recollection of jiersons now alive, to be
one of the finest and most interesting cities in the
world.

The first great undertaking which Mr. Diimimonil
accomplished for the benefit of his native city %\as
the erection of the Roy-il Infirmaiy. Previous to the
establishment of this hospit-al, the ]ihysicians and
surgeons of Edinburgh, assisted by other members
of the community, had contributed /"2000, with
^\•hich they instituted an infirmary fir the reeei'tion
of the destitute sick. Put Mr. I "run-inn'H.l, ,-:r..\ii'u-
to secure for thesiek poor tit" tlie city ami r.ei-h!'! air-
hood still more e\ten>ive aid, atienqited to ..l.tain
legislative authority for incor]ioratir,g tl:e diitribu-
tors as a body politic and crjM irate. Mme th.an
ten years, hijwever, chipped lielore lie br- i;.;l.t the
jiublic to a ju-t a]ij.reciaii"n .ii'hi- p\j.]). At la-t he
was sucee»ful. and an net !i,i\ing I'een { r-^iired, a
charter, dated 25th .\i!..;i;~t, I 73<'i. wa> gv.-iited. cn-
.-tituting the c-intriinit-rs an iiKMr;- .rati. ai. with
]iower to erect /'.-r /\r:::/ /rrr-na'-y, and to ]'Urch.-.>e
land< and make bve-l.iw-. Tlie iMi-.n.l.iti-n--- mc of
this building wa^' Irid 2I Ar.g'.ist, 173S. T;^ ci)>t
ncarlv /'ij.ooo. wliich w.ts rai.-eJ by tlie '-'.niled con-

4S4

THOMAS DRUMMOXD.

tributions of the whole countr)'; the nobility, gentry,
and the public bodies all over the kingdom, making
donations for this benevolent establishment; while
even the farmers, carters, and timber-merchants
united in giving their gratuitous assistance to rear
the building.

The rebellion of 1745 again called Mr. Dnimmond
into active service in the defence of his country and
its institutions; and although his most strenuous
exertions could not induce the volunteer and other
bodies of troops in Edinburgh to attempt the defence
of the city against the rebels, yet, accompanied by a
few of the volunteer corps, he retired and joined the
royal forces under Sir John Cope, and was present
at the unfortunate battle of Prestonpans. After that
defeat, he retired with tlic royal forces to Berwick,
where he continued to collect and forward informa-
tion to government of the movements of the rebel
army.

The rebellion of 1745 having been totally quelled
in the spring of 1746, Drummond, in the month of
November following, was a second time elected
provost of Edinburgh. In tlie year 1750 he was a
third time provost, and in 1752 he was appointed
one of the committee for the improvement of the
city.

The desire of beautifying their native city, so con-
spicuous among the inhabitants of Edinburgh, and
which has engaged the citizens of later times in such
magnificent schemes of improvement, first displayed
itself during the provostship of Mr. Drummond.
Proposals were tlien published, signed by Provost
Drummond, which were circulated through the king-
dom, calling upon all .Scotsmen to contribute to the
improvement of the capital of their country. These
proposals contained a plan for erecting an exchange
wpon the ruins on tlie north side of the High Street;
for erecting buildings on the ruins in the Parliament
Close; for the increased accommodation of tiie dif-
ferent courts of justice; and for offices for the con-
vention of the royal burghs, the town-council, and
the advocates' library. A petition to parliament
was also proposed, praying for an extension of the
royalty of the town, in contemplation of a plan for
opening new streets to the south and north; for
building bridges over the intermediate valleys to
connect these districts with tlie old town; and for
turning the North Loch into a canal, with terraced
gardens on each side. In consequence chiefly of the
strenuous exertions of Provost Drummond, the suc-
cess which attended these projects was very consider-
able. On the 3d of September, 1753, he, asgrand-
ma.>ter of the freemasons in Scotland, laid the
foundation of the Royal Exchange, on which oc-
casion tiiere was a very splendid jirocession. In
1754 he was a fourth time chosen ])rovost, chiefly
that he might forward and superintend the improve-
ments. In the year 1755 he was appointed one of
tlie trustees on the forfeited estates, and elected a
manager of the select society for the encouragement
of arts and sciences in Scotland. In the year 175S
he again held the office of pn^vost; and in ()ctol)er,
17G3, during his sixth ])rovost>hip, he laid the f )un-
dation-.itone of the North Bridge.

Mr. Drummond, having seen his schemes for the
improvement of the city acconi])lished to an extent
l)eyond his most sanguine exjiectations, retired from
p'.ihlic life on the expiration of his sixth ])rovostslii]i;
and after enjoying good health until within a sliuit
time of his death, he died on the 4th of November,
1766, in the eightieth year of his age.

DRUMMOND, Captain Thomas. Among t!ie
many distinguished engineers of whom Scotland lias

been so prolific in the present age, the subject of this
notice will always hold a conspicuous place. He
was born in Edinburgh, in October, 1797, and was
the second of three sons; and being deprived of his
father while still in infancy, the care of his education
devolved ujion his mother, who discharged her duty
in that respect so effectually that the captain ever
afterwards spoke of her with affectionate gratitude,
and attributed much of his professional success to her
careful and efficient training. After having under-
gone the usual course of a classical education at the
high-school of Edinburgh, he was entered at Wool-
wich as a cadet in 1813; and such was the persever-
ing energy and diligence with which his home-
training had inspired him, that he soon distanced his
school-fellows, and passed through the successive
steps of the military college with a rapidity altogether
unusual in that institution. It was not in mathe-
matics alone also that he excelled, but in every other
department of science towhich he turned his attention;
for such was his intellectual tenacity and power of
application, that he never relinquished a subject until
he had completely mastered it. Of this he once
afforded a striking proof while still in one of the
junior academies of the college. Not being satisfied
with a difficult demonstration in conic sections con-
tained in Hutton's Course of Mathematics, which
formed the text-book of the class, young Drummond
sought and discovered a solution of a more simple
character, and on a wholly original principle. Such
was the merit of this bold innovation, that it replaced
the solution of Hutton among the professors of Wool-
wich College, who were proud of their young pupil,
and entertained the highest hopes of his future success
as a military engineer. The same reflective inde-
pendent spirit characterized his studies after he had
left Woolwich to follow out the practical instruction
of his profession. On one occasion his attention was
directed to the various inventions by which the use
of the old pontoon was to be superseded ; and he
contrived a model, which was reckoned a master-
piece of ingenuity. "It was," says his friend Cap-
tain Dawson, who descrd^es it, "like a man-of-war"s
gig or galley, sliar]) at both ends, and cut transversely
into sections for facility of transjiort, as well as to
prevent it from sinking if injured in any one part;
each section was perfect in itself, and they admitted
of being bolted together, the partitions filling under
the thwarts or seats. The dockyard men, to whom
he showed it, said it would row better tlian any boat
cxcejit a gig; and it was light, ancl capable (jf being
transjiorted from place to place on horseback."'

After having spent some time in training, Ixjth at
Plymouth and Chatham, during which he embraced
every opportunity of improving his professional
knowledge, not only by books and the conveisalion
of intelligent officers and scientific scholars, but also
by a vi>it to France, to study its army of occupation
and witness a great military review, Drummond was
stationeil at Edinburgh, where his cliarge consisted
in the superintendence and rejiair of public W(;rks.
Put this spliere was too limited for hi^ active spirit;
and, finding little prospect of advancement in his
profe->ion, lie had serious thoughts of abandoning it
lor the bar, and liad actually enrolled his name as a
student at Lincoln's Inn, when fortunately, in the
autumn of 1819, he met in l-Alinburgh with Colonel
Colby, at that time engaged in the trigonometrical
survey of the Highlands. Eager to have sucli nn
a-^Mciate in his lalxiurs, the colonel soon induced the
disappointed enginecrto abandon all fiirther tlioughts
of tlie study of law, and join him in the survey. As
these new duties required Drunimoiifl to reside in
London durin;/ the \\-inter, he availed himself of the

THOMAS DRUMMOXD

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

485

opportunity not only to improve himself in the higher
departments of mathematics, but also to study the
science of chemistry, which he did with his wonted
energy and success. While attending, for this purpose,
the lectures of Professors Faraday and Brande, his at-
tention was called to the subject of the incandescence
of lime; and conceiving that this might be made avail-
able for his own profession, he purchased, on his re-
turn from the lecture-room, a blow-pipe, charcoal,
and other necessary apparatus, and commenced his
course of experiments. These were prosecuted even-
ing after evening, until he had attained the desired
result. He found that the light derived from the
jirepared lime was more brilliant than that of the
Argand lamp; and that it concentrated the rays
more closely towards the focal point of the parabolic
mirror, by which they were reflected in close parallel
rays, instead of a few near the focus, as was the case
with the Argands.

An opportunity was soon given to test this impor-
tant discovery. In 1824, Colonel Colby was ap-
pointed to make a survey of Ireland, and took with
him Lieutenant Drummond as his principal assistant.
The misty atmosphere of Ireland made this survey a
work of peculiar difficulty, as distant objects would
often be imperceptibly seen under the old system of
lighting; but the colonel was also aware of the im-
proved lamp which Drummond had invented, and
sanguine as to its results. His hopes were justified
by a striking experiment. A station called Slieve
Snaught, in Donegal, had long been looked for in
vain from Davis' Mountain, near Belfast, about sixty-
six miles distant, with the haze of Lough Xeagh lying
between. To overcome this difficulty, Drummond
repaired to Slieve Snaught, accompanied by a small
party, and taking with him one of his lamps. The
night on which the experiment was made was dark
but cloudless, and tlie mountain covered with snow,
when the shivering surveyors left their cold encamp-
ment to make the decisive trial. The hour had been
fixed, and an Argand lamp had been placed on an
intermediate church tower, to telegraph the appear-
ance of the light on Slieve Snaught to those on Davis'
Mountain. The hour had passed and the sentrj*
was about to leave his post, when the light suddenly
burst out like a brilliant star from the top of the
hitherto invisible peak, to the delight of the aston-
ished spectators, who were watching with intense
anxiety from the other station of survey. An-
otlier invention of almost equal importance with the
Drummond's light was his heliostat, by which the
(lifTiculty arising from the rapid motion of the earth
in its orbit round the sun, was obviated by the most
simple means, and the work of survey made no
longer dependent upon a complicated apparatus that
required fretpient shifting and removal; so that,
while it could take observations at the distance of a
hundred miles, a single soldier was sufficient to carry
and plant the in.strument upon the requisite spot.

The adniirahle scientific knowledge which Drum-
mond possessed, and the valuable services he had
rendered to the lri>li survey, were not lust siglit of,
and demands soon occurrecl to call him into a higher
sphere of duty. These were, the preparations neces-
sary before the passing of the reform bill, by laying
down the boundaries to the iild and the new boroughs.
This very difficult task he discharged so ably, and
ST much to the >atisfaction of the public, as to silence
the murmurs of cavillers, who complained because a
young liu-utenant of engineers had been apjiointed to
so important a charge. After it was finislied he re-
turned to his work of surveying; but in the midst
of it was appointed private secretar\' to Lord
.'Spencer, in wliich office lie continued till tlie dis-

solution of the government, when he was rewarded
with a pension of jC^oo per annum, obtained for
him through the interest of Lord Brougham. In
1835 he was appointed under-secretary for Ireland,
where he was placed at the head of the commission
on railways; but his incessant lalx)ur in this depart-
ment, along with his other duties of a political
nature, are sup])osed to have accelerated his death,
which occurred .\pril 15, 1840. His memory will
continue to be affectionately cherished, not only by
the distinguished statesmen with whom he acted,
but by society at large; while the scientific will regret
that public duties should have latterly engrossed a
mind so admirably fitted for the silent walks of in-
vention and discoverj'.

DRUMMOND, Wii.i.i.\m, of Ilawthomdcn, a
celebrated poet and historian, was born on the 13th
of December, 1585. His father. Sir John Drum-
mond of Hawthornden, was gentleman usher to
King James VL, a place which he had only enjoyed
a few months before he died. His mother, Subanna
Fowler, was daughter to Sir William Fowler, secre-
tary to the queen, a lady much esteemed for her ex-
emplary and virtuous life.

The family of our poet was among the most
ancient and noble in .Scotland. The first of the
name who settled in this country came from Hun-
gary as admiral of the fleet which conveyed over
Margaret, queen to Malcolm Canmore, at the time
when sirnames were first known in Scotland. Walter
de Drummond, a descendant of the original founder,
was secretary, or, as it was termed, clerk -register, to
the great Bruce, and was emj^loyed in various politi-
cal negotiations with England by that prince. An-
nabella Drummond, queen of King Robert II. and
mother of James I., was a daughter of the house of
Stobhall, from which were descended the Larls of
Perth. The Drummonds of Carnock at this early
time became a branch of the house of Stobhall, and
from this branch William Dnimmond of Hawtliorn-
den was immediately descended.

The poet was well aware, and indeed seems to have
been not a little proud, of his illustrious descerit. lu
the dedication of his history to John, Earl of Perth,
whom he styles his "verj' good lord and chief," lie
takes occasion to exjiatiate at some length on the
fame and honour of their cunnion ancestors, and
sums up his eulogium with the following \\onls:- —
"But the greatest honour of all is (and no subject
can have any greater), that the high and miglity
prince Charles, King of Great I'ritain, and the mo>:
part of the crowned heads in Europe, are desceivied
of your honourable and ancient family." His c<'n-
sanguinity, remote as that was, to James I., who v .is
himself a kindred genius and a jjoet, was the circum-
stance, however, which Drummond dwelt ir.u-t
proudly upon ; and to the feelings which this g.'.ve
rise to we are to attribute his JHstoy cf ti,: J-)z .-
yai/icScs. He indeed intimates himscif tliat >ucli
was the case, in a manner at once noble and dcl;catc:
— "If we believe some schoolmen," ^ays 1k-. "tha:
the souls of the dejiarted have sdiiu- dark kii.'w lolge
of the actions done upon earth, wliich concern their
good or evil; what solace then w.ll th;s liring to
James I., that after tw.) liuivirol year-, he hath t'lie
of his mother's name ami race tl;at hath renewed his
fame and actions in the wcrki.'

Of the early ].erind of our aiuhor's life few par-
ticulars are known. The raiiinier.t.- of hi-, eiluca-
tion he received at t!ie h;.,-li->cho,_,l ol" Ldinbur^-h.
where, we are told, he di-i laved early .-ign-, ot' tha!
worth and ger.ius for wi.ieh at a niaturer .ige he lie-
camc cu:i^r:cu.u;. \'iuv.\ ll;e:icc ia due lime he

486

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

entered the university of the same city, where, after
the usual course of study, he took his degree of
Master of Arts. He was then well versed in the
metaphysical learning of the period ; but this was
not his favourite study, nor was he ever after in his
life addicted to it. His first passion, on leaving
college, lay in the study of the classical authors of
antiquity, and to this early attachment is to be
attributed the singidar purity and elegance of style
to which he attained, and which set him on a level,
in that particular, with the most classical of his
English contemporaries.

His father intending him for the profession of the
law, he was, at the age of twenty-one years, sent
over into France to prosecute that study. At
Bourges, therefore, he applied himself to the civil
law, under some of the most eminent professors of
the age, with diligence and applause; and it is pro-
bable, had a serious intention of devoting his after-
life to that laborious profession. In the year 1610
his father. Sir John, died, and our author returned
to his native country, after an absence from it of
four years. To his other learning and accomplish-
ments he had now added the requisites necessary to
begin his course in an active professional life. That
he was well fitted for this course of life is not left to
mere conjecture. The learned President Lockhart is
known to have declared of liim, "that had he fol-
lowed the practice of the law, he would have made
the best figure of any lawyer in his time." The
various political papers which he has left behind
him, written, some of them, upon those difficult
topics which agitated king and people during the
disturbed period in which he lived, attest the same
fact ; as displaying, along with the eloquence which
was peculiar to their author, the more forensic
qualities of a perspicuous arrangement, and a judi-
cious, clear, and masterly management of his argu-
ment.

It was to the surprise of those who knew him that
our author turned aside from the course which, though
laborious, lay so invitingly open; and preferred to the
attainment of riches and honour the (juiet obscurity
of a country gentleman's life. He was naturally of
a melancholy temperament; and it is probable that
an over-delicate and refined turn of sentiment inllu-
enced him in his decision. His father's death at tlie
same time leaving him in easy independency, he had
no longer any obstruction to following the bent of
his inclinati<in. No poet in this state of mind, per-
haps, ever enjoyed the possession of a retreat more
favoured by nature than is that of Ilawthornden —
so well fitted to the realization of a poet's vision of
earthly l)liss. The place has been long known to
every lover of the picturesfjue, and, associated as it
has become with the poetry and life of its ancient
and distinguished possessor, is now a classical spot.
Ujjwards of a hundred years ago, it is pleasing to be
made aware tliat this feeling was not new. The
learned and critical Ruddinian, at no time given
to be poetical, has yet descril>ed Ilawthornden as
being "a sweet and solitary seat, (/;/(/ Tt-ry Jit and
proper for the Muses.''' It was here that our author
passed many of the years of his early life, devuted in
a great measure to literary and philosophical study,
and the cultivation of poetry. We cannot now
mark with any degree of precision the order uf his
compositions at this period. The first, and ofily
collection published in his lifetime, containing the
/''lowers of Sion, with several other poems, and ,/
Cypress drove, a])peared in Edinburgh in the year
1616; and to this publication, limitcfl as it is, we
must ascribe in great part the literary fame which
the author himself enjoyed among his contemporaries.

Of the poems we shall speak afterwards ; but the
philosophical discourse which accompanies them it
may be as well to notice in the present place. A
Cypress Groz'e was written after the author's recovery
from a severe illness; and the subject, suggested, we
are told, by the train of his reflections on a bed of
sickness, is Death. We have often admired the
splendid passages of Jeremy Taylor on this sublimest
of all earthly topics, and it is if anything but a
more decidecl praise of these to say that Drum-
mond at least rivalled them. The style is e-xalted,
and classical as that of the distinguished church-
man we have named ; the conception, expression,
and imagery scarcely inferior in sublimity and
beauty. That laboured display of learning, a fault
peculiar to the literary men of their day, attaches in
a great measure to both. In this particular, how-
ever, Drummond has certainly been more than
usually judicious. We could well wish to see this
work of our author, in preference to all his others,
more popularly known. It is decidedly of a higher
cast than his other prose pieces ; and the reading of
it would tend, better than any comment, to make
these others relished, and their spirit appreciated.

Not long after the publication of his volume, we
find Drummond on terms of familiar correspondence
with several of the great men of his day. Among
them the principal were Ben Jonson, Michael Dray-
ton, Sir Robert Kerr (afterwards Earl of Ancrum),
Dr. Arthur Johnston, and Sir William Alexander
(afterwards Earl of Stirling). For the last-mentioned
of these our author seems to have entertained the
most perfect esteem and friendshij^. Alexander was
a courtier rather than a poet, though a man not the
less capable of free and generous feelings. His
correspondence with our author, which extends
through many years, is of little interest, referring
almost entirely to the transmission of poetical pieces,
and to points of minor criticism. Michael Drayton,
in an elogy on the English poets, takes occasion to
speak of Drummond with much distinction. In the
letters of this pleasing and once pojndar poet there
is a frank openness of manner, which forms a re-
freshing contrast to the stiff form, and stiffer compli-
ment, of the greater part of the "familiar epistles,"
as they are termed, which passed between tlu- liter-
ary men of that period, not excepting many of those
in the correspondence of the poet of Ilawthornden.
"My dear noble Drummond," says he, in one of
them, "your letters were as welcome to me as if
they had come from my mistress, -which I think is
one of the fairest and wortliiest living. Little did
you think how oft that noble friend of yours, .Sir
William Alexander, and I have remembered yoti,
before we trafficked in friendship. Love me as much
as you can, and so I will you: I can never hear i>f
you too oft, and I will ever mention you with much
respect of your deserved worth," &c. Only two of
Drummond's letters in return to this excellent poet
and agreeable friend have l)ecn preserveil. We shall
make a brief extract from one of them, as it seems
to refer to the ctmimencement of their friendshi]),
and to be in answer to that we have first quoted of
Drayton: — "1 must love this year of my life (1618)
mnre dearly than any that forewent it, because in it
1 was so liaj^ipy as to be acquainted with such worth.
\\'!iatever were Mr. Davis' other designs, methinks
some secret prudence directed him to those ])arts
only: for this I will in love of you surjiass as far
your countrymen as you go beyond them in all true
worth; and shall strive to be second to none, save
your fair and worthy mistress." John Davis had,
it would seem, in a visit to Scotland, become ac-
quainted with Drummond, and on his return to

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

487

London did not fail to manifest the respect and
admiration our poet had inspired him with. Drayton
communicates as much to his friend in the following
brief postscript to one of his letters: — '^'■'jfohn Davis
is in love luith you" He could not have used fewer
words.

.Sir Robert Kerr was, like Sir William Alexander,
a courtier and a poet, though, unlike him, he never
came to he distinguished as an author. lie is best
known to posterity for his singular feat of killing in
a duel the "giant," Charles Maxwell, who had pro-
voked him to the combat. There is a letter from
our poet to .Sir Robert, on this occasion, in which
philosophically, and with much kindness, he thus
reprehends his friend's rashness and temerity: — "It
was too much hazarded in a point of honour. Why
should true valour have answered fierce barbarity;
nobleness, arrogancy; religion, impiety; innocence,
malice; — the disparagement being so vast? .Xnd
had ye then to venture to the hazard of a combat, the
exemplar of virtue and the Muses' sanctuary? The
lives of twenty such as his who hath fallen, in hon-
our's balance would not counterpoise your one. Ve
are too good for these times, in which, as in a time
of plague, men must once be sick, and that deadly,
ere they can be assured of any safety. Would I
could persuade you in your sweet walks at liome to
take the prospect of court-shipwrecks."

Sir Robert Kerr was indeed a character for whom
Drummond might well entertain a high respect. In
the remarkable adventure above alluded to, and for
which he became very famous, he was not only
acquitted of all blame by his own friends, but even
Lord Maxwell, the brother of the gentleman killed,
generously protested that they should never quarrel
with nor dislike him on that account.

The most remarkable incident which has descended
to us, connected with the literary life of our poet,
was the visit with which the well-known English
dramatist Ben Jonson honoured him, in the win-
ter of 161 8 -19. Upon this, therefore, we would
desire to be somewhat particular, and the materials
we have for being so are not so barren as those
which refer to other passages, lien Jonson was a
man of much decision, or what, on some occasions,
might no doubt be termed obstinacy of i)urp()se; and
to undertake a journey on foot of several hundred
miles, into a strange country, and at an unfavourable
season of the year, to visit a brother poet whose
fame had reached his ears, was characteristic in
every way of his constitutional resoluteness, and of
that sort of ]5ractical sincerity whicli actuated his
conduct indilferently either to friendship or enmity.
There is much occasion to mark this humour through-
out the whole substance of the conversations wliich
passed between Drummond and his remarkable
visitor. The curious document which contains these
is in itself i)iit a rough draught, written by Drum-
monil wiicn the matters contained in it were fre->h
in his recollection, ami intended merely, it would
seem, as a sort of memorandum for his own use.
.Several of the incidents of Ben Jon,-.i)n's life, as
they were comnumicate<l by him to Drummond, have
been given. These we have not occasion to notice;
but we cannot jiass over, as e(iually out o{ jilace,
some of the opinions entertained l)y that remarkable
man of his literary contemporaries. They are for the
most part sweeping censures, containing some truth,
but oftener nuicli illiberality ; pointe<l, and on one
or two occasions coar>e — Jonson being at all times
rather given to lo-e a friend than a je-t. Spenser's
stanzas, we are told, "pleased him not, nor his mat-
ter."— "Samuel Daniel wasagooil hone>t man, had
no children, and was no poet; that he had wrote the

Ctfil Wars, and yet hath not one battle in his whole
lK)ok." — Michael Drayton, "//"he had performed
what he promised in his Polyolhwn (to write the
deeds of all the worthies), had Ijeen excellent." —
"Sir John Harrington's Arioslo, of all translations
was the worst. That when .Sir John desired him to
tell the truth of his ei)igrams, he answered him, that
he loved not the truth, for they were narrations, not
epigrams." — "Donne, for not Wing understood,
would perish. He esteemed him the first poet in
the world for some things; his verses of OhaJine he
had' by heart, and that passage of the calm that dust
and feathers did not stir, all was so (/uiet." He told
Donne that his ".■liiiiirersary was profane and full
of blasphemies; that if it had been written on the
Virgin Mary it had been tolerable." To which
Donne answered, "that he descril)ed the idea of a
woman, and not as she was." — "Owen was a poor
pedantic schoolmaster, sweeping his living from the
posteriors of little children, and has nothing good in
him, his epigrams being bare narrations." — ".Sir
Walter Raleigh esteemed more fame than con-
science : the best wits in England were employed in
makmg his history. He himself had written a piece
to him of the Punic war, which he altered and set
in his book." — "Francis Beaumont was a good poet,
as were Fletcher and Chapman, whom he loved."
— "He fought several times with Marston. Marston
wrote his father-in-law's preachings, and his father-
in-law his comedies, &:c." The most singular of all
to the modern reader, is what follows regarding
.Shakspeare, who is introduced with fully as little
respect as is shown to any of the others mentioned :
— He said, " Shakspeare wanted art and sometimes
sense; for in one of his plays he brought a number
of men, saying they had suffered shipwreck in Bohe-
mia, where is no sea near by one hundred miles."
Shakspeare, it may be remarked, though two years
dead at the time of this conversation, was then but
little known out of London, the sphere of his original
attraction. The first and well-known folio edition
of his plays, which may be said to have first shown
forth our great dramatist to the world, did not ap-
pear till 1623, several years after. Drummoml
merely refers to him as the author of Venus and
Adonis and the A'afe of Z//(;-<v<'— pieces as little
popularly known now as his plays were then.

It is to Ben Jon-,on's honour that, when he
spared so little the absent poets of hi-> country, he
did not altogether pass over the poet of Hawthorn-
den to his face. ( 'ur author's verses he allowed,
were all good, especially his epitajdi on Prince
Henrv ; save that they smelled too much of the
schools, and were not after the fancy of the time> :
for a child, said he, may write after the fashion of
the Creek and Latin verses, in running; — yet. that
he wished for plea-ing the king, that piece of />;.■■/
Feast in i:; had been his own."

\\'e now come to a circum>tance in the lite cf oi;r
])oet which was dotined. in iN C"n>e'n;er.LC-. to
interrupt the ([uiet cour>e in which li;> existence h.\d
hitherto tlowcd, and to excrci-c over hi- niir.d an 1
future ha]ipine>s a deei^anl lasting ir;!li'.e:Ke. I h;s
was the attaclnnent which he termed l^r a y.>;Hig and
beautiful lady, daughter to l'vnin;r,.;lianH- "f r..\rne-,
an ancient and honourable laniily. IIi> attcctmn
was returned by his nii-tre-~; tlic mn: riage-dny ap-
pointed, and pre]iarati'';i> in pr..-!V" It i!ic li.i]'l'y
solemnization, when tlic >'H;iig l.i'iy v..i- >e:/od sud-
denly with a revcr, of \\\v.c\\ die died. lli_> grief
on this event he h.i- ex; re--ed in many <.f ih.-e
sonnet <, which h.r.e gi\en to him the title <^i tlii-
coimtrv's retrareli; and it |-,.i- we'.I been .--a-.d. tiuTt
with more jia.->i'in and ^incer;ty lie celebrated !r.>

4SS

WILLIAM DRUMMOXD.

dead mistress, than others use to praise their living
ones.

The melancholy temperament of Drummond, we
have before said, was one reason of his secluding
himself from the world, and the ease and relief of
mind which he sought, he had probably found in
his mode of life; but the rude shock which he now
received rendered solitude irksome and baneful to
him. To divert the train of his reflections, he re-
solved once more to go abroad, and in time, distance,
and novelty, lose recollection of the happiness which
had deluded him in his own country. lie spent
eight years in prosecution of this design, during
which he travelled through the whole of Germany,
France, and Italy; Rome and Paris being the two
places in which he principally resided. He was at
pains in cultivating the society of learned foreigners;
and bestowed some attention in forming a collection
of the best ancient Greek and Latin authors, and the
works of the esteemed modern writei"s of .Spain,
France, and Italy. He aftenvards made a donation
of many of these to the college of Edinburgh, and it
formed, at the time, one of the most curious and
valuable collections in that great library. The
catalogue, printed in the year 1627, is furnished
with a Latin preface from the pen of our author,
upon "the advantage and honour of libraries."

After an absence of eight years, Drummond re-
turned to his native country, which he found already
breaking out into those political and religious dis-
sensions which so unhappily marked, and so tragi-
cally completed, the reign of Charles I. It does not
appear that he took any hand whatever in these
differences till a much more advanced period of his
life. It would seem rather that other and quieter
designs possessed his mind, as he is said about this
time to have composed his history, during a stay
wliich he made in the house of his brother-in-law,
Sir John .Scot of .Scotstarvet. The IIisto)y of the
Reigns of the Five fai/u'ses, as a piece of composition,
is no mean acquirement to the literature of this
country; and for purity of style and elegance of ex-
pression it was not surpassed by any Scottish author
of the age. In an historical point of view, the spirit
of the work varies materially from that of preceding
authors, who had written on the same period, and
especially from Buchanan, though in a different way.
It is certainly as free from bias and prejudice as any
of these can be said to be, and on some occasions
better informed. The s])eeches invented for some of
tlie leading characters, after the fashion of the great
Roman historian and liis imitators, are altogether
excellent, and, properly discarded as they are from
modern histcjry, add much grace and Ijcauty to tiie
work. In short, as an old editor has expressed him-
self, "If we consider but the language, how florid
and ornate it is, consider the order, and the i)rudent
conduct of the story, we will rank tlie author in tiie
nuinl)er of the best write'rs, and compare iiim even
witli Thuanus himself." Tiiis W(jrk was not pub-
lished till some years after Drummond's decease.

We have no reason \.o l)elieve that at tiiis time he
had relinc(uished the cuhivation of p(jetry, l)ut can
arrive at no certainty regarding tlie order of his com-
positions. Our author seems throughout his life, if
we except the collection wliich he made of his early
poems, to have entertained little concern or anxiety
for the preservation of his literary labours. .Many
of his poems were only printed during his lifetime
upon loose sliects; and it was not till 1650, six years
alter his death, that Sir John Scot caused them to
be collected and published in one volume. An
edition of this collection was published at London
in iC'59, with the following highly encomiastic title:

— "The most elegant and elaborate Poems of that
great court wit, Mr. William Drummond, whose
labours both in verse and prose, being heretofore so
precious to Prince Henry and to King Charles, shall
live and flourish in all ages, whiles there are men to
read them, or art and judgment to approve them."
Some there were of his pieces which remained in
manuscript, till incorporated in the folio edition of
his works in 171 1. The most popular of those de-
tached productions, printed in Drummond's lifetime,
was a macaronic poem entitled role/no-jMiddinia, or
the Battle of tlie Dunghill. This was meant as a
satire upon some of the author's contemporaries, and
contains much humour in a style of composition
which had not before been attempted in this country.
It long retained its popularity in the city of Edin-
burgh, where it was almost yearly rej^rinted; and it
was published at Oxford in 1691, with Latin notes
and a preface by Bishop Gibson.

He had carefully studied the mathematics, and in
the mechanical part of that science effected consitler-
able improvements. These consisted principally in
the restoring and perfecting some of the warlike
machines of the ancients, and in the invention of
several new instruments for sea and land service, in
peace and war. The names of the machines in
English, Greek, and Latin, and their descriptions
and uses, may be found detailed in a patent granted
to our author by King Charles I., in the year 1626,
for the sole making, vending, and exporting of the
same. This tlocument has been published in the
collection of Drummond's works, and is worthy of
notice, as illustrating that useful science, though then
a neglected object of pursuit, was not overlooked by
our author in the inidst of more intellectual studies.
Perhaps we might even lie warranted in saying, far-
ther, that the attention which he thus bestowed on
the existing wants and deficiencies of his country,
indicated more clearly than any other fact, that his
mind had progressed beyond the genius of the age in
which his existence had been cast.

Drummond lived till his forty-fifth year a bachelor,
a circumstance which may in great part be ascribed
to the unfortunate issue of his first love. He had,
however, accidentally become acquainted with Eliza-
beth Logan, grand-daughter to .Sir Robert Logan of
Restalrig, in whom he either found, or fancied he
had found, a resemblance to his first mistress; and
this impression, so interesting to his feelings, revived
once more in his bosom those tender affections which
had so long lain dormant. He became united to
this lady in the year 1630. By his marriage he had
several children. William, the eldest son, lived till
an advanced age, was knighted by Charles IL, and
came to be the only representative of the knights-
baronets formerly of Carnock, of whom, in the be-
ginning of tliis article, we have made mention. We
learn little more of the private life of our author after
this |)erio<l; but that he lived retiredly at his house
of Hawthornden, whicli he re]iaired; an inscription
to this effect, bearing dale 163S, is still extant upon
tiie building.

Drummcjnd has left Ijehind him many jiolitical
papers written between the years 1632 and 1646, in
which, if he has not approved himself a ju<licious
su])])orter of King C'harles, and his contested rights
and authority, he has only failed in a cause -which
C(juld not then be supjiorted, and which has never
since been approved. "Irena, or a remonstrance
for concord among his majesty's subjects," is the first
of these political tracts; and the picture which it
draws of civil strifes and disorders, and of men given
to cliange, is set forth with much eloquence and per-
suasive force. Though the doctrine of obedience is

WILLIAM DRUMMON'D.

489

enforced throughout, it is neither dogmatically nor
offensively insisted upon. This and other papers of
a similar tendency, Drummond wrote in the years
1638-39, " but finding," as he informs us in one of
his letters, "his majesty's authority so fearly eclipsed,
and the stream of rebellion swelled to that height,
tiiat honest men without danger dared hardly speak,
less publish their conceptions in write, the papers
were suppressed."

We shall only notice one other of these composi-
tions, on account of some passages contained in it,
which have been adduced as evidence of the political
foresight and sagacity of the writer. It is entitled
"An address to the noblemen, barons, gentlemen,
&c., who have leagued themselves for the defence of
religion and the liberties of Scotland," and is dated
2d May, 1639, ten years previous to the trial and
execution of the king, to which, and to events fol-
lowing, it has prophetic reference: — "During these
miseries," says he, "of which the troublers of the
state shall make their profit, there will arise (per-
haps) one, who will name himself Proticctdr of
the liberty of the kingdom: lie shall surcharge the
people with greater miseries than ever before they
did suffer: he shall be protector of the church, him-
self being without soul or conscience, without letters
or great knowledge; under tlie shadow of piety and
zeal shall commit a thousand impieties; and in end
shall cssciy to make himsclt kin;^; and under ])retext of
reformation, bring in all confusion." " Then shall
the poor people suffer for all their follies: then shall
they see, to their own charges, what it is to pull the
sceptre from their sovereign, the sword from the
lawful magistrate, wlvim God hath set over them,
and that it is a fearful matter for subjects to degra-
duate their king. This jirogress is no new divining,
l)eing approved by the histories of all times." The
general truth of this vaticination is amazing.

It was a saying of Drummontl, "That it was good
to admire great hills, but to live in the plains;'' and,
as in the earlier part of life he had resisted the temp-
tations of courtly or j)rofessional celebrity, which
birth and talent put alike in his way, so afterwards
he as carefully eschewed the more easily attained,
though more perilous, distinctions of political faction.
His heart lay more towartls private than public vir-
tues; and his political writings, it is jiroliable, were
intendeil liy their author as much for the instruction
and satisfiction of a few intimate friemls, as to serve
(which they never did) the more important ends for
which they were ostensibly written. He was a
cavalier, antl his principles, early j^rejudices. and
inclinations led him to espouse the royal cause; but
his patriotism and good sense informed him cor-
rectly h nv far his support should be extended. His
jirudential forbearance was indeed sometimes put to
the test; but though reputed a malignant, and more
thin once summoned before the circular tables at
ICdinburgh for satirical verses, discourses, and con-
versations, it does not appear that he ever seriously
compromised his .safety or property. Ueing obliged
to furnisli men to the parliamentary army, it so hap-
jiened that, his estate lying in three different shires,
lie had not occasion to send one entire man from
any of the parts of it. Upon his ([uota, therefore,
nf fracticjns, as they might be called, he cumposeil
tlie following li'.ies addressed to his m.ajesty: —
"')f all the>e f>rces rii^cl .ic;ainst the king.
' lis mv sir mi'- hap not one \vhi>l<; m;in to brir.~:
From ilivcTse p.iri>hcs, yet i'ivcr>e n\cn,
I'liit .lU in h.ilvcs ruid qii.irtcr^: groat kiiic;. thon.
In halves and quarters if they come '.caiii^; tl-.c--,
I.i halves anil quarters send them back to nie."

The year 1649. in its conimcncenient. witnes>o<l
the tragical end of Charles I., th.^t lir,>l great and

ominous eclipse of the Stuart djTiasty. On the 4th
Decemlxir of the same year, Drummond died, want-
ing only nine days to the c<^mpletion of his sixty-
fourth year. His Ixxiy had long been weakened by
disease induced by sedentary and studious habits,
and the slujck which the king's fate gave him is said
to have aft'ected his remaining health and si>irits.
His body was interred in the family aisle in I.asswade
Church, in the neighbourhood of the house of Haw-
thomden.

In respect of his virtues and accomplishments,
Drummond is entitled to rank high among his con-
temporaries, not in .Scotland only, but in the most
civilized nations of that day in Europe. Kn<iowed
with parts naturally excellent, and fitted for almost
every species of improvement, his ])hiloM.[)hic tem-
jjerament and habits, and peculiar incidents of his
hfe, tended to develop these in a manner advan-
tageous as it was original. His early education im-
bued his mind deeply with the genius and cl.xssical
taste of ancient Greece and Rome, perfection in
which studies then formed the almost exclusive
standard of literary excellence. .\ long residence
in the more ])olished countries of the Continent
familiarized his mind with those great works of
modern enlightenment, the knowledge of which had
as yet made but obscure progress in IJritain. He
not only read the works of Italian, hrench, and
.Spanish authors, but spoke these different languages
with ease and fluency. He occasionally vi>itcd
London, and was upon familiar terms, as we have
seen, with the men of genius of his own and the
sister kingdom. He added to his other high and
varied actjuirements, accomplishments of a lighter
kind, well fitted to enhance these others in general
society, and to add grace to a character whose worth,
dignity, and intelligence have alone gone down to
posterity. "He was not much taken up (his old
biographer infjnns us) with the ordinary amusements
of dancing, singing, ])!aying, ^;c. , thou^^h he had as
much of them as a loell-l'red i^cntlcman should haze;
and when his spirits were too much bencied by severe
studies, he unbended them by playing on h;> lute.'
One of his sonnets may be considered as an apos-
trc^ijdie, and it is one of singular beauty, to this
his favourite instrument: it adds to the cti'eet of the
atldress to know, that it w.as not vainly sj."ken.

Of the jirivate life and manners of tlie jioet rf
Hawihornden, we f)nly know enough to make u--
regret the imperfection of his biograjihy. Tliou,;!i
he passed the greater part of hi> life as a retire !
country gentleman, his existence never could he, .-.t
any time, obscure or insignificant. He ^\a> related
to many persons of distinguished rank ai;d intimate
with others. Congeniality, however, r'f mind an 1
pursuits alone led him to cultivate the .-iiicty c-
men of exaheil station; and. such is tlie r..-.!'.;re ■ t
human excellence and dignity, the jio.t .ir.d man
of literature, in this case, conferred h;-;:e r.; 'in th_'
]ieer and the favourite of a court. IK- wr.- ;'."t a
courtier, and he was, .as he li.i- liini^i'l e\; re>se^l
it, even "careless and neg]igi.nt r.'.!.-.:' ;.;:.ie ar.d
reputation." 11 is philosoj-hy w.is ]].-vt..,d, n. t
assumed: and \\ecaiin(n fa:i to W iir.i'ie-~c'i with
its pure and nol)le -pirit in tl:c ;o;:.'r -1 !.> I;le, no
less than in the tone of manv of li;- wr;:.:.^~.

We have alrea-'y alludc'l to -.ve:,:! > !' Dnitr.-
mond's production-- hi- ('i/;.-.' '''■;"■. ' '■- //■■■••'■';•..
and his /r,;/,;- -and nv.i-t iV'\v brieti) reter to tlio-j
on which his fuiv r.- a 1 -e- i- f i;:-. !e i. They con-
sist in-incipally . f - -nne'-- ■ f .in ani.ntMry ntvl religious^
ca-t: a ]ioem 'o" -o;-v.- :lt.^-.:i. er.titled '1 ■:: /.':: rr <=/
Fcrth Fca;;:u:: a- 1 I'::^- :r 1- ■ />r^it-: .-J Mr::ade;
anasjramaticaliv M::c- a l>c-, llie ii.in:e --unied :.\

490

SIR WILLIAM DRUiMMOND.

challenges of martial sport by Henry, Prince of
Wales, eldest son of King James VI. This last
jiiece was written so early as 1612. As a panegyric
it is turgid and overcharged; but it has been referred
to by more than one critic as displaying much beauty
of versification.

TJie sonnet, about this time introduced into our
literature, must be supposed to owe somewhat of the
favour it received to the elegant and discriminating
taste of Drummond. Me had a perfect knowledge
of Italian poetry, and professed much admiration for
that of Petrarch, to whom he more nearly approaches
in his beauties and his faults than, we believe, any
other English writer of sonnets. This, however,
refers more particularly to his early muse, to those
jneces writteu before his own better taste had dared
use an unshackled freedom. We shall give two
specimens, which we think altogether excellent, of
what we consider Urummond's matured style in this
composition. The first is one of six sonnets entitled
Urania, or Sf-iritiial Poems ; and the second, already
transiently alluded to, is a sonnet addressed by the
l)oet to his lute. The first perhaps refers to what
Drummond considered the political unhappiness or
degratiation of his country, though, in trutli, it may
be made answerable to the state of humanity at all
times; file second, to the well-known catastrophe of
his first love, and accordingly it has its place among
t!ie sonnets professedly written on that topic.

I.
" What hapless h.ap had I for to be born

111 these unhappy times, and dying days
Of this now doting world, when good decays; —
Love's ciiiite extinct and Virtue's held a scorn!

When such are only priz'd, by wretched ways,
Who with a golden fleece can them adorn;

When avarice and lust are counted praise,
And bravest minds live ohi'IIan-like kori.oknI

Why was not I born in that golden age,
When gold was not yet known':' and those black arts
liy which base worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid acts stainnig earth's stately stage?

To have been then, O heaven, 't had been my bliss,
But bless me now, and take me soon from this,"

II.

" My lute, be as thou wcrt when thou did grow
With thy green mother in some .shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move.
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.

Since that dear voice which did thy sounds approve.
Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow,

Is reft from earth to tune the spheres above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe?

Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more.
Hut orphan's wailings to their fainting ear,
K:i>:h stpike a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear,
I' or which be silent as in woods before:
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
Like widowed turtle still Iter loss complain."

The I-'orth I-'castiiv^ is a jioem of some ingenuity in
its contrivance, dc--.igned to com])limenl King James
VI., on the visit witii which tliat monarch favoured
his native land in 1617. ()f the many effusions
wliicli that joyous event called forlli, this, we helieve,
has alone kept its groinid in jiublic estimation, and
indeed as a performance ])r(jfessedly ]ianegyricai, and
possessing little adventitious claim from the merit of
its object, it is no ordinary praise to say that it has
done so. It attracted. Lord Woodhouselee has re-
marke<l, ''the envy as well as the ])raisc of Pen
Jonson, is superior in harmony of numi)ers to any of
the cf)inpositions of tlie contem[>orary poets of fing-
land, and in its subject one of the mo>t elegant
panegyrics ever addressed by a jioet to a jirince.''

DRUMMOND, .Sir Wh.i.ia.m, a distinguished
scholar and ]ihilosOpher. The date of his birtii
seems nr)t to be ascertained, nor does any memoir of
which we are aware describe his early education.

He became first slightly known to the world in 1794,
from publishing --/ Rezneiuofthe Government of Sfarta
and Athens. It was probably a juvenile perform-
ance, which would not have been recollected but for
the later fame of its author, and it is not now to be
met within libraries. In 1795 he was elected repre-
sentative of the borough of St. Mawes; and in 1796
and 1801 he was chosen for the town of Lostwithiel.
In the meantime he was appointed envoy-extraordi-
nary to the court of Naples, an office previously filled
by a countryman celebrated for pursuits not dissimilar
to some of his own — Sir William Hamilton; and he
was soon afterwards ambassador to the Ottoman
Porte. Of his achievements as an ambassador little
is known or remembered, excepting perhaps an al-
leged attempt, in i8o8, to secure the regency of Spain
to Prince Leoi:)old of Sicily. Nor a.s a senator does
he appear to have acquired much higher distinction;
from being a regular and zealously-labouring political
partizan, his studious habits and retired unbending
disposition pre'ented him, but such political labours
as he undertook were on the side of the government.
In 1798 he pul)lished a translation of the Satires of
Perseus, a work which, especially in fidelity, has
been held to rival the contemporaneous attempts of
Gifford, and it established him in the unquestioned
reputation of a classical scholar. In 1805 appeared
his Acade7)tical Questions, the first work in which he
put forward claims to be esteemed a metaphysician.
Although in this work he talks of the dignity of
philosophy with no little enthusiasm, and gives it a
preference to other .subjects, more distinct than many
may now admit; yet his work has certainly done
more for the demolition of other systems than for
instruction in any he has himself propounded. He
perhaps carried the sceptical philosoi)hy of Hume a
little beyond its first bounds, by showing that we
cannot comprehend the idea of simple substance,
because, let the different qualities which, arranged
in our mind, give us the idea of what we call an
existing substance, be one by one taken away, — when
the last is taken nothing at all will remain. To his
doctrine that the mind was a unity, and did not con-
tain separate powers and faculties, Locke's demolition
of innate ideas must have led the way; but that great
philosopher has not himself been s]iared from Sir
William's undermining analysis, with which he at-
tem[ned indeed to destroy the foimdations of most
existing systems.

In 1810 -Sir William, along \\ith Mr. Robert \\'al-
pole, published Ilerculanensia, containing archajo-
logical and etymological observations, ])artly directed
towards a MS. found in the ruins of Herculaneum.
During the same year he published an Essay on a
Jennie Inscription found in the island of Malta. The
inscri])tion was interesting from its twice containing
the name Hanni-Baal, or Hannibal; but it seems to
have been merely used by Sir William as a nucleus
round which he could weave an extensive investiga-
tion into the almost unknown and nndiscoverablc
language of the Carthaginians. He pro]iosed two
methods of analytically acquiring some knowledge
of this obscure subject; first, through the Phccnician
and I'unic vocables scattered through the works of
Greek and Roman authors; and second, through the
dialects cognate to the I'lueiiician, viz., the Arabic
or ancient .Syriac, the .Samaritan, the L.thiojiian, the
fagments of Lgyptian to be found in the model n
(optic, and the Hebrew.

In iSii he printed the most remarkable of all his
works, the (F.dipus Judaicns. It was not published,
and ])robably had it been so it would have brought
on the author, who did not entirely esca|)e criticism
by his conceahnent, a torrent of censure which might

SIR WILLIAM DRUMMOND

WILLIAM DUNBAR.

49 1

have rendered life uncomfortable. It was Sir William
Drummond's object to take the parts of the (Jld
Testament commonly commented on by divines as
l)urely historical, and prove them to be allegories.
Perhaps the following extract contains a greater por-
tion of the meaning which the author had in view
than any other of similar brevity: — " When we con-
sider the general prevalence of Tsabaism among the
neighbouring nations, we shall wonder less at tlie
proneness of the llel)rews to fall into this species of
idolatry. Neither siiall we be surprised at the
anxious efforts of their lawgiver to persuade and con-
vince them of the vanity of the superstitions, when
we recollect that, though he could command the
elements, and give new laws to nature, he could not
impose fetters on the free-will of others. With such
a power as this he was by no means invested; for the
Almighty, in offering to the Hebrews the clearest
proofs of his existence, by no means constraineil their
belief. It cannot be douI)ted that by any act of
power God miglit have coerced suljmission, and have
commanded conviction; but had there been no choice,
there could have been no merit in the acceptance of
his law.

"Since then Jeliovah did not compel the people
to acknowledge his existence, by fettering their free
will; it was natural for his servant Moses to repre-
sent, by types and by symbols, the errors of the Gen-
tile nations; and it is in no manner surprising that
the past, the existing, and the future situation of the
Hebrews, as well as the religious, moral, and politi-
cal state of their neighbours, should be alluded to
in sym!)olic.il language by a historian who was also
a teacher and a prophet.

" .Vbove all things, however, it is evident that the
establishment of tlie true religion was the great ob-
ject of the divine legation of Closes. To attain this
purpose it was not enough that he performed the most
surprising miracles. His countrymen acknowledged
the exi>tence of Jehovah ; but with him they
reckoned, and were but too willing to adore, other
gods. Is it then surprising that the false notions of
religion entertained by the Gentiles should be pointed
out in the writings of Moses, and that their religious
systems should be there made to appear what they
really are — the astronomical systems of scientific
idolaters?''

To institute a critical investigation of the jioints
discussed in such a Ijook as the Guiipus would
require mt)ie learned investigation than is expected
to be met with in a casual memoir. P.ut with
deference, we believe a mere ordinary reader may
take it on Iiim to say that Sir William has run
riot on the dangerous au'l enticing ground of phil-
ology. It will tie difficult to convince ordinary
minds that the book of Joshua allegorically repre-
sents the rcf'inn of the calendar, or that the name
Joshua :> a V-y:: of the ^un in the sign of the Kani;
and when lie tiiid> the twelve labours (.)f Hercules
and the tuche tribes of Israel iilentified with the
twelve >!gn-- of the zodiac, one feels regret that he
did not imiirove the analogy by the addition of the
twelv-j ( '.w.r-. It wa> wiili > onie truth that I )'( >yly,
in his Rcni :r'-:s on Sir W'.llidni Drumniornr s (Juiipns
yndiii'us. thus characterized the >pccie> of philologv
in which Sir Wiiliain indulged: — ""It is in the nature
of things iinpo,-il>lc t'> J:-'pi\^t- any proposed method
of deducing t!ie etyni'>liigy of a word, however ab-
surd, fancitul, and --tiained it may appear to every
considerate mind. We may give rea-ons for reject-
ing it as higlily inipr< ihahle, and f)r receiving an-
other, perhaj)> a< drawn frnm a far more oliv;ou>
source; hut ihi-. i^ all lliat we can do; if any persmi
should iKT-evere in ina:nta:ni:iL; that liii own is th.c

best derivation, the question must l>c left to the
judgment of others: it is impossible to prove that he
is wrong. In some old monkish histories the word
Briton is derived from Brutus, a supposed descend-
ant of .'I'lnea^ : now, we may pnxiuce reasons with-
out end U>T disbelieving any ccjnnection to have sub-
sisted between Britain and a person named Brutus,
anil for either acquiescing in our inability to derive
the word at all, or for greatly preferring some other
mode of deriving it; but we can do no more; we
cannot confute the person who maintains that it cer-
tainly is derived from Brulu>, and that every other
mode of deriving it is comi)aratively forced and im-
])robable. Precisely in the same manner, when our
author affirms that the word '.\morite->' is derived
from a Hebrew word signifying a ram, the astro-
nomical sign of Aries; tiiat 'Balaam' comes from a
word signifying 'to swallow,' with allusion to the
celestial Dragon; 'Deborah' from .Mdebaran, the
great star in the Bull's-eye — so we cannot possibly
confide him, or positively frore that he is wrong :
we can only hint that these derivations are not rvrv
obvious or probable, and refer the matter to the
common sense of mankind."

.Sir William was not likely to create friends to his
views by the tone he adopted, which was occasionally
(especially in the introduction) such as he .should not
have used till the world had acknowledged his own
system, and should not have been applied to anything
held in reverence.

In iSiS .Sir William Drummond jiublished the
first part of a poem, entitled Odin, which was never
popular. The first of the three volumes of his Ori-
;,^ines, or Remarks on tite Orii^in of scleral linipires.
Slates, and Cities, appeared in 1S24. Of the varied
contents of this very eminent historio-critical work,
we shall spare our readers any analysis, as it is well
known to the reading world, preferring to refer to the
article on .'sir \\'illiam Drummond in the EncyelopcJia
Britanniea. Towards the latter period of his life
.Sir William was a martyr to gout. His hal)its were
retired, and by some considered reserved. Yox in-
stance, when on a visit he would seldom make his
appearance after dinner, s]iending the afternoon in
the library or study. But while lie was in company
his manners were Ijland and courteous, and his con-
versation was enriched by classical and elegant ir.-
formalion. He died in the }ear 182S.

DUKBAR, William, "the darling of the Scot-
tisii Muses," as he has been termed liy .'^ir Walter
Scott, was born aliout the middle of the fifteenili
century. Mr. David Laing suggests the year l4'o
as about the date of his liirth. The place of liis
nativity is not more accurately known. In the /-i ;.'-
iii^ of Dunbar and Kennedy, a serie> of satires v hich
these two ])oets interchangeil wiih enih liiher, the
former speaks of the '"(."arrick lips"" of b.is aiitag. inist.
a Ihina fide allusion to the provincial ven-.acr.'.ar ol
that poet, and, within three lines, he u~l- •h:e aii ac-
tive [ethian in the same way. respecting a [ .-.rt ot
his own person; thereby, ap] arentl}-. i;: !;. ^t:: g th.r.
he was a native of tliat di-ir;i.t. VrJe- lici.b.-r
here meant only to imply his ha! iiu.-.l ri-:iiiKe in
Lotliian, and hi^ ha\ing cn-e'i'.u a'.!} l' r.tracttd its
peculiar language, lie niusi lie he!: a~ aekr.-w !ed^-
ing him-elf a nat;\e of llie pr-vi-..ce. The tarly
events of the poet'~ iife are uiir.ii'wn. \e. 1475. "hen
he mu-t have reached hi- ti;teen;!i "r -'.x:- c:'.ili _\ear,
he was sent to the i:i;i\ er~::y < f St. Ai^'lrews, \\_s,\
the principal -cat .■:' learning in Scctiand. The-
name of W:!lia:n I)un!>ar i- entere'i in t!'.e nnrie-,'.
registers of t!ie univei-;!}. in 1477. anv :;_; :I:e /' '-r-
vur.ant.s, or Bachelor- ^A .\rt-, i.i St. Sal\at; :"s (.'.;-

492

WILLIAM DUNBAR.

lege, a degree which students could not receive till
the third year of their attendance. His name again
occurs in 1479, when he had taken his degree of
Master of Arts, in virtue of which he was uniformly
styled MaisUr William Dunbar, a designation whicli
was exclusively appropriated till a late period to
persons who had taken that degree at a university.
Of his subsequent history, from 1480 to 1499, no
trace remains. He became an ecclesiastic at an early
age, having entered the mendicant order of St. Francis,
which had an establishment of Grey Friars at Edin-
burgh.

In his poem entitled Ilaza Dunbar luas desyrcd to
be anc Frier, he gives the following intimation on this
subject, as reduced to prose, by Dr. Irving: — "Be-
fore the dawn of day, methought St. Francis ap-
peared to me with a religious habit in his hand, and
said, ' Go, my servant, clothe thee in these vestments,
and renounce the world.' But at him and his habit
I was scared like a man who sees a ghost. 'And
why art thou terrified at the sight of the holy weed?'
'St. Francis, reverence attend thee. I thank thee
for the good- will which thou hast manifested towards
me; but with regard to these garments, of which
thou art so hberal, it has never entered into my mind
to wear them. Sweet confessor, thou needs not take
it in evil part. In holy legends have I heard it al-
leged that bishops are more frequently canonized
than friars. If, therefore, thou wouldest guide my
soul towards heaven, invest me with the robes of a
bishop. Mad it ever been my fortune to become a
friar, the date is now long past. Between Berwick
and Calais, in every flourishing town of tlie English
dominions, have I made good cheer in the habit of
thy order. In friars' weed have I ascended the
pulpit at Dernton and Canterbury; in it have I crossed
the sea at Dover, and instructed the inhabitants of
Picardy. But this mode of life compelled me to
have recourse to many a pious fraud, from whose
guilt no holy water can cleanse me.'"

It is proba1)le that he did not long continue his
connection with this order, as he informs us that the
studies and life of a friar were not suited to his dis-
position. It is no doubt to his having been a travel-
ling noviciate of the P^ranciscan order that his poetical
ant.agonist Kennedy alludes, when he taunts Dunbar
witli his pilgrimage as a pardoner, begging in all the
churclies from Ettrick Forest to Dumfries. His
poems do not inform us how he was employed after
relinquishing tlie office of a friar, nor how he became
connected with the Scottish court, wliere we find
him residing about tlie beginning of the sixteenth
century, under the patronage of James IV. P>om
some allusions in his writings, at a subsetjuent period
of his life, to the countries he had visited while in
the king's service, it is not improbable that he was
employed as secretary, or in some kindred cajjacity,
in connection with the embassies to foreign states
which were maintained l)y the reigning monarch.
In 149 1 he was residing at Paris, in all likelihood
in the train of the Earl of Bothwell and Lord Mony-
penny, then on an embassy to the court of France.

In the books of the treasurer of .Sc(jtland, we finrl
that Dunbar enjoyed a pension from his sovereign.
Under date May 23, 1501, occurs the following
entry: — "Item, to Maister William Dunbar, in his
]iension of .Martymcs by past, 5/." Another entry
occurs December 20, "quhilk was jieyit to him eftir
he com furth of England." If these were half-yearly
payments, the pension must have been one of ten
jiounds, which cannot be deemed inconsiderable,
when we take into account the resources of the king,
the probable necessities of the bard, and the value
of money at that time. In March, 1504, he fir.-^t

performed mass in the king's presence. In 1507 we
find that his pension was nenvly eiked, or augmented,
to the sum of twenty pounds a year; and in 1 5 10, to
eighty pounds. On the marriage of James IV. to
Margaret of England, Dunbar celebrated that event,
so auspicious of the happiness of his country, in a
poem entitled The Thistle and the Rose, in which he
emblematized the junction and amity of the two
portions of Britain. In the plan of this poem, he
displays, according to Dr. Irving, "boldness of in-
vention and beauty of arrangement, and, in several
of its detached parts, the utmost strength and even
delicacy of colouring." Dunbar seems to have after-
wards been on as good terms with the qtieen as he
had previously been with the king, for he addresses
several poems in a very familiar style to her majesty.
In one, moreover, "on a daunce in the queene's
chalmer," where various court personages are re-
presented as coming in successively and exhibiting
their powers of saltation, he thus introduces him-
self:—

"Than in cam Dunbar the Makar;i
On all the flure there was nane fracar,
And thair he dauncet the Dirry-duntoun:
He hopet, like a filler wantoun,
For luff of Miisgraeffe men fiilis me.
He trippet quhile he tur his pantoun:
A mirrear daunce micht na man see."

The next person introduced was Mrs. Musgrave,
probably an English attendant of the queen, and,
as the poet seems to have admired her, we shall
give the stanza in which she is described: —
'Then in cam Maestres IMusgraeffe:
Scho micht haff lernit all the laeffe.
Quhen I saw her sa trimlye dance,
Hir gud convoy and conten.ance,
Than for hir saek I wissit to be
The grytast erle, or duke, in France:
A mirrear dance micht na man see."

Notwithstanding the great merit of Dunbar as a
poet, he seems to have lived a life of poverty, with
perhaps no regular means of subsistence but his
pension. He appears to have addressed both the
king and the queen for a benefice, but always with-
out success. How it came to pass that King James,
who was so kind a patron to men professing jiowers
of amusement, neglected to provide for Duiiljar is
not to be accounted for. The poet must have been
singularly disqualified, indeed, to have been deemed
unfit in those days for church preferment. It ap-
pears that the queen became more disposed to be
his patron than the king, for he writes a jioem in
the form of a prayer, wisliing that the king were
yohn Tho)nsoiCs man, that is, subservient to the
views of his consort, so that he might obtain what
the queen desired his majesty to bestow ujion him.
The jjoor poet tells the king that his hopes were in
reality very humble: —

'■(.Ireit abbais gralth I nill to gather,

liot nnc kirk scant covcrit ivit/i /uuidcr;

J'or I 0/ tytil loatd he fatii;:

(Juhilk to considder is ane pane."
His poetry is full of pensive meditations upon the
ill division of the world's goods — how some have too
much without meriting even little, wliile others
merit all and have nothing. He sa^s —

" I kn.aw nocht how the kirk is gydit,
I'.tJl benefices are nocht leil divydit:
Sum men hes sevui, and I nocht <anc:
Quhilk to considder is ane pane."

lie also reflects much u]5on the vanity of all sul)-
lunary affairs. At tlie beginning, for instance, of
the above poem, he thus moralizes on "the warld s
instabilitie:" —

"I'his waverand wnrldis wretchidnes,
The failyand and fruitles bissines,

' Writers of verses were so termed in the si.\tcentli century.

ADAM DUNCAN.

493

The mispent tyiiie, the service vane,
For to coiisiducr is ane pane.
The slydan joy, the glaidness schort,
'J lie fcinyand luif, the fals comfort,
The sucit abayd, the flichtful tranc.
For to considder Ls ane pane.

The sugarit moiithLs, with mynds thairfra;
The fijjiirit speiche, with faces twa;
The pIc.-Lsand toungis, with harts unplane,
Kor to considder is ane pane."

Next to The Thistle and the Rose, the most con-
siderable poem by Dunbar was Tfu Golden Tai-t^e,
a moral allegorical piece, intended to demonstrate
the general ascendency of love over reason: the
golden targe, or shield, of reason, he shows to be an
insufllcient protection to the shafts of Cupid. He is
also supposed to be the author of an exquisitely
humorous tale, entitled The Frcirs of Bcnvick, which
has supplied the ground-work of a well-known poem
of Allan Ramsay, designated The Monk and the
J\rillers Wife. Another composition, styled The
Twa Marriet IVetrien and the Wedo, contains much
humorous sentiment, and many sarcastic reflections
upon the fair sex; but of all IJunbar's poems, it is
most open to the charge of immodest description.
The poem, however, displaying the highest powers
of mind, is certainly that entitled A Dance, which
jiresents pictures of the saien deadly sins, equally ex-
pressive, perhaps, with any that could have been
delineated by the pen of Milton himself.

Dunbar had the fortune, rare in that age, of see-
ing some of his works printed in his own lifetime.
In 150S, among the very first efforts of the Scottish
press, Chejmian and Millar published his Golden
Targe, his 7wa Marriet Wemen and the IVedo, and
several other poems. Three years after the poet's
pension had been increased to ^80 came the fatal
disaster of Floddcn, involving the destruction of tlie
king and his nobles. How the fortunes of the bard
were affected by this sad national event does not ap-
pear. Mr. Laing thinks it probable that he at last
succeedetl in obtaining preferment in the church.
"The queen dowager, whom, during the king's life,
our ]wet styled his 'advocate bayth fair and sweit,'
could h.ive no difficulty, during her regency, in pro-
viding for his wants; and we cannot believe that slie
would allow his old age to pine away in poverty and
neglect. Even were it otherwise, we are not to sup-
pose that he had no other friends in power who
would be willing to assist in procuring some adequate
and permanent provision for an individual who had
so long contributed, by his writings, to the amuse-
ment of the court." The poet is supposed to have
survived till 1520, and died at the age of sixty. The
lust c >nq)lcte collection of his works was published
by Mr. David Laing in 1S34. Although Dunliar
received from his contemporaries the homage due to
tiie greatest of .Scotland's early makars, his name and
fame were doomed Ko a total eclipse during the
period from 1530, when Sir David Lyndsay mentions
him among tlie poL-ts then deceased, to the year
1724, when s<mie of his jiocms were revived by Allan
Ramsay. Mr. Laing observes that, "if anv mis-
fortune had befallen the two nearly coeval manuscrijit
collect !■ ins of ."-Scottish poetry by l>annatyne and
Maitland, the great chance is, that it might have
been scarcely known to posterity that such a joet
as Dun'Dar ever existed.'

DUNCAN, Lord VisrorxT, one of the com-
]"iarativcly few naval heroes cf whom Scotland can
biia^t, was a voungcr son of .Alexander Duncan, I'.sq.,
of Lundie, in the county of Forfar. He was born in
Dundee, on 1st July, 1731; in which to^\■n he also
received the ruJimcnts of his education. The familv

of Lundie, wliich had for centuries been distinguished
for its peaceful and domestic virtues, seems at this
time to have had an inclination directed towards the
more active business of war — the eldest son having
gone into the army, while the younger, the subject
of the present sketch, joined the navy at the aspiring
age of sixteen. In 1747 he took the humble con-
veyance of a carrier's cart to Leith, whence he sailed
to London; and beginning his career in a manner so
characteristic of the unostentatious but settled views
of his countrymen, he did not revisit the place of his
birth until his genius, his virtues, and his courage
had secured for him the honour of an admiral's com-
mission and the gratitude of his countr)-.

Li the year last mentioned young Duncan went on
board the Shoreham frigate, Captain Haldane, under
whom he served for three years. He was afterwards
entered as a midshipman on board the Centurion, of
50 ginis, then the flag-ship of Commodore Keppcl,
who had received the appointment of commander-in-
chief on the Mediterranean station. While on this
station Mr. Duncan attracted the attention and re-
gard of the commodore, no less by the mildness of
his manners and the excellence of his disposition,
which, indeed, distinguished his character through
life, than by the ability and intrepidity which he uni-
formly displayed in the discharge of his arduous
though subordinate duties. How true it is that the
sure foundations of future fame can be laid only
during that period of youth which precedes the com-
mencement of manhood's more anxious busino- 1
His submission to the severity of naval discipline, the
diligence with which he made himself acquainte-l
with the practical details of his professional duties,
and the assiduity with which he cultivated an intellect
naturally powerful, formed the true germs whence
his greatness afterwards sprung. The amiable antl
excellent qualities which so soon and so conspicuou.-ly
manifested themselves in his mind and character,
gained for him, at an early period of his life, the af-
fection of many whose friendship proved useful to
him in the subsequent stages of his professional atl-
vancement.

As Keppcl, himself a hero, had been the first to
discover kindred qualities in his young friend, >o he
was also the first who had the honour to reward the
rising genius of Mr. Duncan. \\\ January, 1755, the
commodore was selected to command the ships of
war destined to convey the transports which had
been ecpiipped for the puqiose of carrying out troops
under Lieneral Braddock to North .\inerica, where
the French had made various encroacliments on
British territor)-; and it was then that Kcppel ] aid
a compliment no less creditable to his o\\ n d.iserinur.a-
tion than flattering to Duncan's merits, by ] 'lacing
his name at the head of the list of those wh.ni hj
had the privilege of recommending to proni'ition.
Mr. Duncan was accordingly rai>ed to the rank oJ
lieutenant, in which capacity he went on boar! the
Xoncich, Captain I'arrington. Soon after tlie .-.rrix.il
of the fleet in \'irginia, the coninii'iore removed
Mr. Duncan on board his own shi;i tl'.e L\>:t:tr:cr..
whereby he was plaec<l n<it only more ininu 'L.-itely
under the friendly eye of lii< comnKimler. but in ;-.
more certain channel of promotion. \\ itli ilic (V;.--
turiiVi he returned \.o Lnglaiul. .nnd reinair.e'l uiiLin-
ployed (still the .-liipmate of Ke; ; cl. r.ow on tlic
home station) fir three years. He ^^■.-.- -oon .-ij-.cr-
wards, however, called into r.cti\e M-ivicc. b.a\irig
been present at tlic ailack on the French -et'Icmen:
of Coreeon tlie coa-; of AiVic.-', : and the ex-.^ec!;-.!:. •:->
which his cominaii'icr b.ad f.niK"i ^if liiir. v- (.re .-.nijily -
realized by the liia\ery wliich he oi-r-Liycd in tlie
attack on llie fort. ISefore tlie re'.urr. lu the expedi-

494

ADAM DUNCAN.

tion he rose to the first lieutenancy of the commo-
dore's ship, the Torhay.

In September, 1759, he was promoted to the rank
of commander, and in February, 1761, being then
in Iiis thirtietli year, he obtained a post-captaincy.
Tlie ship to whicli on this occasion he was appointed
was tlie Valid lit, of 74 guns, on board of wliicli
Keppel hoisted liis flag, as commodore in command
of the fleet wliicli carried out the expedition to
Belleisle. Here the critical duty of commanding
the boats to cover the disembarl<ation of the troops
devolved on Captain Duncan, and in this, as in
various other difficult and important services in
which he was employed during the siege, he greatly
distinguished himself. He liad tlie honour, also, of
t.iking possession of the Spanish ships when the
town surrendered to the English.

In the year following, he sailed with the I'aliant
in the expedition under Admiral I'ocock, which
reduced the llavannah; and he remained in com-
mand of the same vessel till the conclusion of the
war in 1763. The powers of Europe, notwithstand-
ing the exhausting conflicts in which tiiey had for
many years been engaged, were still too heated to
remain long at peace, and the war which followed
again called into active operation all the energies of
the Britisli navy. No opportunity, however, occurred
that enaljled Duncan, now commander of the Suffolk,
of 74 gims, to distinguish himself On returning to
England on the temporary cessation of hostilities,
lie had the singular fortune of being called to sit as
a member of the court-martial which was held on his
brave and injured friend Admiral Keppel, whose
unanimous and most honourable acquittal was im-
mediately followed by votes of thanks from both
houses of parliament for his distinguished services.
lie discharged perhaps a less irksome but a not less
impartial duty, on the trial of Keppel's accuser, Sir
Hugh Palliser, who, suffering under the censure of
the court, and the resentment of the nation, was
forced to relincjuish all his public offices.

In the summer of 1779, Captain Duncan com-
manded the Monarch, 74, attaclied to the Channel
fleet under .Sir Charles Hardy ; and towards the con-
clusion of tlie year he was placed under the orders
"f .Sir George Rodney, who sailed with a powerful
s'juadron to attempt the relief of Gibraltar. This
armamciit, besides effecting the purpose for which it
had lieen sent out, had the good fortune to capture
a fleet of fifteen .Spanish merchantmen and their
convoy, a sixty-f )ur gun-ship and four frigates. The
admiral had scarcely regulated the distrilnition of tlie
])ri/.es, wlien, rm i6th January, off Ca])e .St. Vincent,
lie came in sight of a S[)anish squadron of eleven
ships of tile line, commanded by iJon Juan Langara.
The I'jigli^h admiral immediately bore down with
his whole force, and Captain Duncan, although his
sliiji was one of the worst sailers in the fleet, had tiie
honour, as it had been liis ambition, to get flrst into
riction. His gallant ini])etuosity having been ob-
f.M'ved by his no less daring commander, the captain
was warned of the danger of rushing unsu])]iorted
into a position where he would be exposed to the fire
of three of the enemy's largest slii|)s. " Jusl 7oliat f
'li'.nit,''^ he coolly replied; " /'o/sl/ to he atiio?i^ Ihciii,'^
— and t!ic Afouarr/i, dashing on, was in an instant
alongside of a Spanish shi]) of much laiger diincii-
sions, wliile two others of the same rate and mag-
nitude lay within musket-shot to leeward of him.
In this jicrilous position — one, however, in which
every true British sailor glories to be iflaced - the
Afonarch had to contend against fearful odds ; but
then Duncan knew that allowance was to be made
for the difference between British and Spanish skill

and bravery', and he calculated rightly, for though
the Spaniards defended themselves with great gal-
lantry, the two ships to leeward soon perceived that
there was more safety in flight than in maintaining
the contest, and they accordingly made off with all
the sail they could carry, leaving their companion,
who had no opportunity of escape, to make the best
defence in his power. Duncan had now compara-
tively easy work; and directing all his fire against his
antagonist, he had the satisfaction, in less than half
an hour, of seeing the St. Aitgustin of 70 guns strike
her colours to the Alonarch. This engagement
afforded little opportunity for a display of scientific
tactics; it was, in seaman's language, a fair stand-
up fight, gained by the party wlio had the stoutest
heart and the strongest arm. But it distinguished
Captain Duncan as a man of the most dauntless in-
trepidity, and of judgment competent to form a cor-
rect estimate of his own strength as compared with
that of his adversaries. After beating the.S'/. Aitgustin,
Captain Duncan pushed forward into the heart of
the battle, and, by a well-directed fire against several
of the enemy's ships, contributed greatly to the
victory which was that day achieved over the Spanish
flag. The St. Aiigiistiit proved a M'orthless prize.
So much had she been shattered by the Monarc/i's
tremendous fire, that it became necessary to take
her in tow ; but, taking water rapidly, her captors
were obliged to abandon her, in consequence of
which she was repossessed by her original crew,
and carried into a Spanish port.

On Captain Duncan's return to England in the
same year he quitted the Monarch, and in 1782
was appointed to the Blcnlicim, of 90 guns. ^^ ith
this ship he joined the main or Channel fleet, under
Lord Howe. He shortly afterwards accompanied
his lordship to Gibraltar, and bore a distinguished
part in the engagement which took place in October,
off the mouth of the straits, with the combined fleets
of France and Spain, on which occasion he led the
larboard division of the centre, or commander-in-
chief's squadron. Here he again signalized himself
by the skill and bravery with which he fought his
ship.

After returning to England he enjoyed a respite
for a few years from the dangers and anxieties of
active -warfare. Having removed to tlie Kdgar, 74,
a Portsmouth guardship, he emjiloyed liis time use-
fully to his country, and agreeably to himself, though
he would have preferred the wider sjihere of useful-
ness which a command on the seas would have
affijrded liim, in giving instructions in the science of
naval warfare to a number of young gentlemen, several
of whom subsecjuenlly ilistinguished thoniselves in
their i)rofession.

Ovei'looked for several years by an administration
who did not always reward merit accfirding to its
deserts, he was now destined to receive that promo-
tion to which, by his deeds, he had acquired so just
a claim. On I4lh September, 1787, he was raised
to the rank of rear-admiral <jf the blue; and three
yeai's afterwards he was invested willi the same nark
in the white squadron. On 1st l'"ebruary, 1793, he
received jiromotion as vice-admiral of the blue, and
on 12th A]iril, 1794, as vice-admiral of the M'hite.
< )n 1st June, 1795, he was a])pointed ac'miraj ef
the blue, and of the white on I4tli February, 1799.
,\t none of these successive ste])s of ad\anct'ment,
e'xcept the two last, was he in active service, although
he had frequently solicite<l a command.

In February, 1795, he received the api)oiiitment
of eonimander-in-chief of all the sliijjs and vessels in
the norlh seas: he first hoisted his (lag on board the
I'rincc George, of 90 guns, but afterwards removed

ADAM DUN'CAN".

495

to the Vemrahle, of 74, a vessel of a more suitable
size for the service in which he was about to cnga^^e,
and one in which he afterwards rendered so glorious
a service to his country.

History does not perhaps record a situation of
more )>erplexin;^ difhculty than that in which Ad-
miral Duncan found himself placed in the summer
of 1797. For a considerable period he had main-
tained his station off the Dutch coast, in the face of
a strong fleet, and in defiance of the seasons, and
when it was known with certainty that his opponents
were ready for sea, and anxious to effect a landing
in Ireland, where they expected the co-operation of
a numerous bantl of malcontents. At this most
critical juncture, he was deserted by almost the whole
of his fleet, the crews of his different shi])s having,
with those of the Channel fleet, and the fleet at the
Nore, broken out into a mutiny, the most formidable
recorded in history. With the assistance of a for-
eign force, Ireland was prepared for open reljellion;
Scotland had its uniled societies; and luigland, too,
was agitated by political discontent, when a spirit of
a similar kind unhappily manifested itself in the
British fleet. Early in the year of which we speak,
petitions on the subject of pay and provisions had
been addressed to Lord Howe from every line-of-
battle ship lying at Portsmouth, of which no notice
whatever was taken. In coiiseciucnce, on the return
of the fleet to the port, an epistolary correspondence
was heltl throughout tlie whole fleet, which ended
in a resolution that not an anchor should be lifted
imtil a redress of grievances was obtained. Accord-
ingly, on the I5lh of April, when Lord Bridport
ordered the signal for the fleet to jjrepare for sea, the
sailors on board his own ship, the Qitccii C/iar!otte,
instead of weighing anchor, took to the shrouds,
where they gave him three cheers, and their example
v.-as followed by every ship in the fleet. The officers
were astonished, and exerted themselves in vain to
bring back the men to a sense of their duty. Alarmed
at the formidable nature of this combination, which
was soon discovered to be extensively organized, the
lords of the admiralty arrived on the iSth, and
various proposals were immediately made to induce
the men to return to their duty, but all their over-
tures were rejected. Tliey were informed, indeed,
that it was the determined purpo>e of the crews of
all the ships to agree to notlii'.ig but that which
should be sanctioned by parliament, and by the
king's proclamation. In circumstances so alarming
to the whole nation, government was compelled to
make some important concessions, and a ]iromise of
his m.ajesty's pardon to the offenders. These, after
much ilcliberalion, v.'ere accepted, and the nien re-
turned to their duty with apparent satisfaction. The
ringleaders of the mutiny were still, however, secretly
employed in exciting tlio men to fresh acts of insub-
ordination; and, taking hold of some ]iarliamentary
di>cus-i ms which ha 1 recently been jiublishetl, the
mutiny was, in tlie course of fourteen days, revived
at Sjiith.-ad with more than its original violence;
and, under pretence that government did not mean
to hihil its engagements, the t hannel fleet, on the
7th oi Ma)', refii-ed to jiut to sea. .'-lucli officers a^
hid become ohicts of >u>pieion or di'.ike to tlieir
crews were put on ^liore. 1' lag-- of detuuice were
hoisted in every ship; :ir. 1 a declaration was sent on
shore, stating tliat tlu'v knev.- the Dutch fleet was
on the point of sailing. l>iU. determined to liaNe their
grievances re<lressed. they woiiid bring matters t'l
a crisis at once by /.i' i//;^- //.^ t'u- I'n.inu-- .' .\t tliis
dreadful crisis, an act was luirried thn)ugh parlia-
ment, increasing their wages; luu, so far fr.un sati-.
fving them, this conciliate'rv and liberal meaiure

served only to increa.sc their insolence, and to render
them the more extrav.agant in their demands. Four
ships of Duncan's fleet, from N'armouth, were now
moored across tiie mouth of the 'l"hames. Trading
vessels were prevented alike from entering and
leaving the river, and all communication with the
shore was ])rohibited. A regular system was adopted
for the internal management of each shij), an<l
Richard I'arker, a person wiio had recently employed
himself as a pcjlitical agitattjr in .Scotland, was jdaced
at the head of the disaffected fleet. On the part of
government, preparations were made for an attack
on the mutineers. All farther concession was re-
fused; the eight articles submitted to government by
Parker were rejected; and it was intim.-'ted, that
nothing but unc(^nditional submission W(ndd be ac-
cepted by the administration. This finnness on the
part of government had, at length, the desired effect.
Dismayed at their own rashness and folly, tlie shij)^
escaped one by one from Parker's fleet, anrl sub-
mitted themselves to their commanders ; and the
ap])rehension, trial, and execution of Parker and
others of the mutineers, which speedily followed,
closed this most disgraceful and formidaide mutiny.
The anxiety of the nation all this time was intense;
that of Duncan, deserted as he was by the greater
part of his fleet, while in the daily expectati'^)n of ati
enemy coming out, must have been extreme. On
the jd of June, when thus forsaken, he called together
the faithful crew of his own ship the I'oicrabL', and
gave vent to his feelings in a speech, which has been
admired as one of the finest sjiecimens of simple
eloquence — "My lads,'" said he, '"I once more call
you together with a sorrowful heart, from what I
have lately seen of the disaffection of the fleets: I
call it disaffection, for they have no grievances. T"
be deserted by my fleet, in the face of an enemy, i-
a disgrace which I believe never before happened to
a British admiral, nor could I have supjiosed it pos-
sible. -My greatest comfirt, utuler Ciod, is tlial I
have l;een sup]ioi"tetl by the officers and seamen of
this ship, for which, witli a heart overflow iiig v.it'";
gratitude, I request you to accejit my sincere thanks.
1 flatter myself much good may result fn'm your
example, by bringing these deluded ]ieople to a sen^e
of the duty which they owe not only tu their king
and coinitry, but to themselves. The Briti-h iiaw
lias ever lieen the suiqmrt of tliat liberty whiji \\.\-
been hand.cd down to us by our ancestors, and v.hiLh,
1 trust, we shall maintain to tl'.e latest ji. istcrity, ar.d
that can be done only liy unaniniity and o!)e(!ier.ce.
d'he shi|)\s conij)an}-, an<l o'hers who lia\e liistin-
guished themse!\es by their loyalty an 1 good order,
deserve to be, and d. iul)tless v. ill be. ti.e tavouriii. s
cif a grateful cour.try. d'hey wiil ;lso li.ve. fr^'ni
their inward feelings, a comfort whicli wiil '\k !..-;ii;g.
and not like the fleeting and false cnfi.Ie.-.ce .'f th' -e
wlio have swerved from their di'.ty. I; lias i fu:
been inv jiride to look int(T the Texei. ."ni s- c a f ".
which decided on cuniing on; to r.ieel i:s. My j ;:;l
is now humbled in. lee 11 My feelings a;e ;:■•: La-ily
to l_)e ex]>ressed. 1 )ur ei:p h.as o\l,i'>' wi i .-.n-i ir.aiie
Uswanti'ii. d'he all-wise I'lAi.ien^e !. > L^en •,;-
tldscheelc as a warning, aii'i I li ';e \'- e •:..;:'. nn;r'Ae
( )n Him tlien let ns ;:■.:-;. wi..:e > ;.r 1 ;.!y
f .niid. I tin 1 ;:u :e .^e !;:,;i.y ^. - '.\
: 1'. ir \v.\ i^ww ; .■-:. I \\?.\k: VrA \\\.\

by it

securit}' can
men anioiii.
conhdeiice of all in tins s
express my ajyi* ■'. .r.i.Ti >
wXvt has thn.s fu- cn-ir.^t
and ir.av tiie Hritidi na-, y
our c luntiy, I'C rLst. ■:■: !
and be n.'l nnl}' tlie 1 v.lv.-,
r'.-r of the wurl.i. Bv.t ;;

;-. :. ivt. May (...:.

^•'-■y -i-'i -dv :■"' ' '

'. \'.-;\\ \\\\. ! a; the ler-

496

ADAM DUNCAN.

a spirit of adlierence to our duty, and obedience; and
let us pray tliat the Almighty Ciod may Iceep us in
the right way of thinking. God bless you all !" The
crew of the Veiu-rabL' were so affected by this simple
but impressive address, that on retiring there was
not a chy eye among them.

Thus Aclmiral Duncan, by acts of mildness and
conciliation, and by his uniform firmness, contrived,
when every other British admiral, and even the
government itself, failed in the attempt, to keep his
own ship, as well as the crew of the Adamant, free
from tlie contagion of the dangerous evil that then
almost universally prevailed.

Fortunately for Great Britain, the enemy was not
aware of the insubordination that existed throughout
the fleet. At a time, however, when Duncan had
only two line-of- battle ships under his control, his
ingenuity supplied the place of strength, and saved
this country from the disgrace of a foreign invasion;
for it cannot be doubted, that had the Dutch com-
mander known the state of helplessness in which the
nation was placed, when its right arm was so effec-
tually bound up by the demon of rebellion, they
would have chosen that moment to run for our
shores. It was then that the happy thought occurred
to the anxious mind of Duncan, that hy approacliing
the Texel with his puny force, and by making signals
as if his tl.'et were in the offing, he might deceive the
■wary De Winter into the belief that he was blocked
up by a superior squadron. This stratagem was em-
ployed with entire success, nor indeed was it known
to De Winter that a deception had been practised
upon him until he had become his antagonist's
])risoner. This manoeuvre, so singular in its concep-
tion, so successful in its execution, and performed at
a moment of such extreme national difficulty, stands
unparalleled in naval history, and alone gave to him
wlio devised it as good a claim to the honour of a
coronet, and to his country's gratitude, as if he had
gained a great victory.

On the termination of the mutiny, Admiral Duncan
■was joined l)y the rest of his fleet, very much humbled,
and anxious f<jr an opportunity to wipe away, by
some sjilendid achievement, the dishonour they had
incurred. The two rival fleets were now placed on
an equal footing, and all anxiety for the event of a
collision was completely removed. Having block-
aded the Dutch coast till the month of October,
Duncan was under the necessity of coming to Yar-
moutii Roads to refit, leaving only a small squadron
ofob^ervation under the command of CajitainTrollope.
But scarcely had he reached the Roads when a vessel
on the tjack of the sands gave the spirit-stirring signal
t'nat the enemy was at sea. Not a moment was lost
in getting under sail, and early on the morning of the
I nil of (Jctob-T he was in sight of Captain Tr(jllo])e's
squadron, with a signal flying for an enemy to lee-
ward. He instantly bore uj), made signal for a
general chase, and soon came up with them, forming
in line on the larljoard tack, between Campertlown
and Mginont, the land being about nine miles to lee-
■ward. The two fleets were of nearly equal force,
consiiting each of sixteen sail of the line, exclusive of
frigates, brigs, tS:c. As they ajjproached each other,
the lirili^h admiral made signal f )r his fleet, which
was bearing up in two divisions, to break the enemy's
liie, and engage to leeward, eath ^hip her ojjponeiit.
The signal was promptly obeyed ; and getting between
the enemy and the lancl, to which tliey were fast .ip-
])roaching, the action commenced at h.ilf-pa^t twelve,
and by f)tie it was general throughout tlie whole line.
The .Uoiiarik was the first to break the encmy'N line.
The I'ciicrahU was frustrated in her attenipt to pa-s
astern of De Winter's flag-ship; but pouring a lie-

structive broadside into the States-General, which
had closed up the interval through which the
Venerable intended to pass, she compelled that vessel
to abandon the line. The Venerable then engaged
De Winter's ship the Vrylieid, and a terrible conflict
ensued between the two commanders-in-chief. But
it was not a single-handed fight. The enemy's
Leyden, Mars, antl Brutus, in conjunction with the
Vrylieid, successively cannonaded the I 'enerable, and
she found it expedient to give ground a little, though
not forced to retreat. In the meantime the Triumph
came up to her relief, and, along with the Venerable,
gave a final blow to the well-fouglit and gallantly
defended Vrylieid, every one of whose masts were
sent overboard, and herself reduced to an unmanage-
able hulk. The contest throughout the other parts
of the line was no less keenly maintained on both
sides; but with the surrender of the admiral's ship
the action ceased, and De Winter himself was brought
on board the Venerable a prisoner of war. His ship
and nine other prizes were taken possession of Ijy
the English. Shortly after the States-General had
received the fire of the Venerable she escaped from
the action, and, along with two others of Rear-
admiral Storey's division, was carried into the Texel,
the admiral having afterwards claimed merit for
saving a part of the fleet. The British suffered
severely in their masts and rigging, but still more so
in their hulls, against which the Dutch had mainly
directed their fire. The loss of lives also was great,
but not in proportion to that suffered by the enemy.
The carnage on board of the two admirals' ships was
particularly great, amounting to not less than 250
men killed and wounded in each. The total loss of
the British was 191 killed and 560 wounded, while
the loss of the Dutch was computed to have been
more than double that amount. At the conclusion
of the battle the F.nglish fleet was within five miles
of the shore, from whence many thousands of Dutch
citizens witnessed the spectacle of the utter discom-
fiture of their fleet. ^Vhen the conflict was over,
Admiral Duncan ordered the crew of his ship together,
and falling down upon his knees l^efore them, returned
solemn thanks to the God of battles for the victory
he had given them, and for the protection he had af-
forded them in the hour of danger. This impressive
act of pious humility affected the Dutch admiral to
tears.

Naval tacticians accord to Admiral Duiican great
merit for this action. It stands distinguished from
every other battle fought during the war by the bold
expedient of running the fleet between the enemy
and a lee shore, with a strong wind blowing on the
land — a mode of attack which none of his predecessors
had ever hazarded. The admiral also evinced great
judgment in the latter part of the contest, and in ex-
tricating his fleet and ]irizes from a situation so ]ierilous
and difficult, while the Dutch sustained all the char-
acter of their best days. The l)attle of Camperdown,
indeed, whether we view it as exhibiting the skill
and cuurage of its victor, the braver)- of Ilritish sea-
men, or as an event of great political importance,
will ever stand conspicuous among the many na\al
victories tliat adorn our amials.

On the arrival of .Adniiral Duncan at the Nore, on
17th October, he was created a peer of (ireat Britain,
by the title of Viscount Duncan of Camperdown
and Barna Duncan of Lundie, to which estate lie
had succeeded by llie death of his brother; and a
jjen-^ion of /'2000 a year was granted his lordshiji lur
himself and the two next heirs of the peerage. The
tliank.-, of both houses of jiarliament were unani-
nv.usly voted to the fleet; and the city of l.oi.don
presented Lord Duncan with the freedom of the city

ANDREW DUNCAN.

497

and a sword of two hundred guineas value. Gold
medals were also struck in commemoration of the
victory, wiiich were presented to the admirals and
captains of the fleet. The public, too, by wh<im the
benefits of no action during that eventful war were
more highly appreciated than the one of which we
have been s])eakini,', paid Lord Duncan a flattering
mark of respect by wearing, the women gowns and
ribands, and the men vests of a particular kind,
which were named "Camperdowns," after the vic-
tory.

Lord Duncan continued in the command of the
North Sea squadron till the beginning of the year
iSoo, when, there being no longer any probability of
the enemy venturing to sea, and having now arrived
at his sixty-ninth year, he finally retired from the
anxieties of public to the enjoyment of jjrivate life;
which he adorned as eminently by his virtues, as he
had done his public station by his energy and talents.

In 1777 his lordship married ^liss Dundas,
daughter of Lord-president Dundas, of the Court of
.Session in Scotland, by whom he had several children.
He did not long enjoy his retirement, having been
cut off in the seventy-third year of his age by a stroke
of apoplexy at Cornhill, on his way from London,
in the summer of 1S04. He was succeeded in his
estates and titles by his eldest son, — in elevating
whom to an earldom, William IV. not only paid an
honourable tribute of respect to the memory of tlie
father, but a ju-,t compliment to the talents, public
spirit, and worth of the son.

W'c close this sketch in the words of a late writer:
"It would perhajis Ix; difficult to find in modern
history another man in wiiom, with so much meek-
ness, modesty, and unafTocted dignity of mind, were
united so much genuine spirit, so much of the skill
and fire of prot^essional genius; such vigorous and
active wisdoui; such alacrity and ability for great
achievements, with such indifference for tiieir success,
except so far as tliey might contribute to the good
of liis country. Lord Duncan was tall, above the
middle size, and of an athletic and firmly jjropor-
tioned form. His countenance was remarkably
expressive of the Iienevolonce and ingenuous ex-
cellencies of his mind."'

DUNCAN, Andrew, Sen., M.D., an esteemed
physician and professor of the institutions of medi-
cine in the university of Edinburgli, was born at .St.
Andrews, on the I7lh October, 1744. His father,
who was formerly a merciiant and shipmaster in
("rail, was descended from a younger branch of the
Duncans i)f .\niownie, in the county of .\ngus; and
his mother, a daughter of Professor Villant, wa>
relate! ti) the Drummonds of Ilawihornden. He
receiveil liis preliminary education for the profession
of medicine at St. .Andrews, from the univer^ity of
which city he obtained the degree of Master of Arts
in May, 1762. He then transl'erred his residence to
Edinburgh, where he pursued his medical studies
under the liappiot auspices, being the pupil, as he
was afterwards the friend, of Dr. Cullen. Dr. John
(iregnry. Dr. Monr<i the second. Dr. John Hope,
and Dr. H'.^.ck. Tlie univer-ity of Ldinl)urgli was
at this period beginning to liold a prominent position
in the scientific and literary worM; fir although the
manv (li>coverie^ tl'.at have since been made, were
tlieii unknown an! unsu>pecte<l, yet the advancement
o( tlie |)rogre>sive sciences which were here taught
and cultivated began to he duly appreciated botli at
home and aliroad. The protessors, who held not
their offices as -inecures. toiled to advance the in-
terests and extend the known Ixnmdaries of science;
and the students, emulating their examples, were

Vol. I.

likewise animated by a zeal which in turn reflected
back honour on the university. It is not, then, to
be supposed that our young candidate f<;r medical
honours, who had already distinguished himself by
his talents and acquirements at St. Andrews, would
be less active than his fellow-students; ami accord-
ingly, we find that he was st><>n electe<l a [(resident
of the Royal .Medical Society in the session of 1764,
the second year after the commencement of his
medical studies in Edinburgh. In tlie welfare of
this society lie ever afterwards took a warm interest,
nor did he hesitate to declare that he considered it
an essential part of the medical school of Etiinburgh.
In the year 1768-9, having com])leted his studies,
he went a voyage to China, in the ca])acity of surgeon
to the Honourable East India Company's ship /isia,
under the command of Captain (afterwards .Sir Robert)
Preston; and so well did he discharge his professional
duties, that when the vessel returned to England,
the captain offered him the sum of 500 guineas to go
out with him a second time. Put this offer, however
complimentary, he declined, for the ])urpose of pur-
suing a different and more congenial tenor of life.
In the October, therefore, of the same year (17691,
he received the diploma of Doctor of Medicine frcnn
the university of St. Andrews, and in the month of
May following was admitted a licentiate of the
Royal College of Physicians in Edinburgh. Dr.
Duncan in 1770 came forward as a candidate for the
jjrofessorship of medicine in the university of St.
Andrews; but his application proved unsuccessful,
the rival candidate being duly elected. In the four
sessions succeeding that of 1769-70, he was annually
re-elected one of the presidents of the Royal Medical
Society, and during this period exerted himself in
completing the arrangements for the erection of the
medical hall, now occupied by the society. About
this time he married a latiy, with \vhom lie enjoyed
an uninterrupted union of upwards of fifty-seven
years, and by whom he had twelve chiklren. .She
was a Miss Elizabeth Knox, the daughter of Mr.
John Knox, surgeon in the service of the Ea>t India
Company, who, it may be added, was the elde^t son
of the Rev. William Knox, minister of Dairsie, in
the county of Life, aiul great-grand-nephew to tlie
illustrious reformer.

On the death of Dr. John Gregory, professor of
the theory of medicine in the univer>ity ol l-.din-
burgh, which occurred in Eebruaiy, 1773, Dr. Drum-
mond was ap]ioiiited to that chair; but, being ab.~ent
from the countr\', I>r. Duncan was chosen to .--upply
the temporary vacancy. He, acconiingly. duruig
the ses-ions 1 774-5 and 1 775-6, delivered lectures
(jn tlie tlieory of medicine; in addition to v hich lie
revived the judici>jus plan adopted by Dr. Rutlier-
fu'd, of ilhi>trating tiie .select cases of indigent
patients labouring under chronic complaint-, by
clinical lectures. I >r. Dninimond sf.Il faiiirg to
return, the magi.-.trate> and town council, on the 12::.
June, 1776, declared the chair to be ag.iin \.:c.-.vt.
and on the i:j:h of the .-ame nvnih ele.t.i \>:.
James (iregory, tlie son ot tli-- late ] r..:\-~ ':. t.> the
professorvliip.'the dutie> of whicii h.i'i I vv.i In- two
year> di>charged by Dr. Dunca:i. M-rtifi^i 1-y tin-
rejection from an olVice to wliiJi h.e th.^u^ht li:n>ei;
entitled. Dr. Duncan ininK'ii.^tely d.etermii.ed "U
delivering an indepen'ier.t C'i-,::-e"t leetr.ri - on tlie
theory and i>raetice .'!" lh.\-;c. u;:h--r.; th.e wa!l-.f
the univer-itv; lie-i le- whieli. a- h.:- ehiixa! lecture-
had been -o 'numerously atteii'ied. lie a'.- > annouiice i
hi- intention ,,f ciitniuing th.eni. "Whiile tiie-e
lecture-," said !;e. in anr..'uncii;g hi- inteinii m, '"are.
more imnie'iiate'v iv.tev.'ied lor t:ie ir.struetion of
>tu.lent>, th.ev w .il be ah-o the mean- of lurui-hing

32

49S

ANDREW DUNCAN.

the indigent with advice and medicines gratis, wlien
sul)jected to chronical diseases." He soon found
that the number of sick jioor who applied to him
for relief was so considerable, that he was induced
to project a scheme for the estabfishment of a dis-
pensary for the purpose of alleviating the sufferings
of those whose diseases were not of a nature to en-
title them to admission into the Royal Infirmary.
When the objects of this institution, by the un-
wearied exertions of Dr. Duncan, were brought fully
and fairly before the public, a sufficient fund was
raised to carry his views into effect. In Richmond
.Street, on the south side of the city, a commodious
building for this charity was erected, and in 1818
the subscribers were incorporated by royal charter.
Notwithstanding the increasing number of similar
institutions, this dispensary continues to flourish;
and a picture of the venerable founder is placed in
its hall.

In the same year that Dr. Duncan commenced
lecturing (1773), he also undertook the publication
of a periodical work, entitled Medical and Philoso-
pltical Comineiitaric's, which was avowedly on the
plan of a similar publication at Leipsic — the Com-
mottarii de Rebus in Scieiitia N'atiirali ct Medicina
gestis, which obviously could only be a very im-
perfect channel for the communication of British
meilical literature. The Medical and Philosophical
Commentaries contained an account of the best new
books in medicine, and the collateral branches of
philosophy; medical cases and observations; the
most recent medical intelligence, and lists of new
books: it appeared in quarterly parts, forming one
volume annually, and continued until the year 1795
under his sole superintendence, when it had extended
to twenty volumes. It was afterwards continued by
liim under the title of Annals of Medicine, until the
year 1804, when it consisted of eight volumes more,
after which Dr. Duncan ceased to officiate as editor,
and changing its appellation, it became the Edin-
burgh Medical and Surgical Jounuil, which, under
the care of his son, became subsequently one of the
most influential medical journals in Europe.

In the year 1790 Dr. Duncan was elected president
of the College of Physicians in lidinljurgh, and in
the same year his venerable friend Dr. Cullen having
resigned the jirofessorship of the practice of medicine.
Dr. James Gregory was translated to tliat chair.
The object of Dr. Duncan's former amljition he now
obtained, for after having lectured with increasing
reputation f<jr fourteen years without the walls of the
college, he was elected successor to Dr. JamesGregory
as the professor of the institutions of medicine.

In 1792, ])erceiving how destitute was tlie con-
dition of those unhajipy beings suffering under tiie
bereavement of reason, he brought forward a plan
for the erection and endowment of a lunatic asylum,
wliich he laid before the Renal College of Physicians
of Edinburgh. It is said that tlie idea of such an
institution was suggeste'l to him by the death of tlie
]>oet I-'ergusson, who, in 1774, a few years after Dr.
Duncan had settled in I'ldinhurgh, expired in the
cells of the common charity workhouse, in a stale
of the most abject and apjialling wretcliclness.
.Vfter nuicli time had cla])sed, and many difficulties
been surmounted, a petition was presented to the
king, who granted a royal charter, dated the lltli
-April, 1807, under which a lunatic asylum was
erected and opened at Morningside. In September,
i8o8, the magistrates and tf)wn council of ]'>linl)urgh
presented Dr. Duncan with the freedom of the city,
as a ])ublic acknowledgment of the sense they enter-
tained of the services lie had rendered the community
by the establishment of the jiuliiic dispensary and

lunatic asylum; and assuredly this honour was never
more deservedly conferred.

In 1809 Dr. Duncan brought forward a scheme for
another public association for the purpose of con-
tributing to the interests and happiness of society.
He observed tiiat the study of horticulture had been
too much neglected in Scotland, and proposed there-
fore the institution of a society which should receive
communications and award prizes to those who
distinguished themselves by making discoveries, or
])romoting the interests of this science. His pro-
posal and exertifjns in accomplishing this favourite
object he lived to see amply rewarded; for the hor-
ticultural society soon attaining considerable import-
ance in the estimation of the public, was incorpor-
ated by royal charter, and among the number of its
members will be found the names of many who are
an ornament and an honour to their country. " The
latest puljlic object undertaken by Dr. Duncan," says
his friend Dr. Huie, "was connected with this so-
ciety, in the success of which he ever took the
warmest interest. This was the establishment of a
public experimental garden, for the jiurpose of putting
to the test various modes of horticulture, and also for
collecting specimens and improving the method of
cultivating every vegetable ]3roduction, from every
quarter of the globe, which could either be agreeable
to the palate or pleasing to the eye. By means of
private subscriptions, assisted by a loan from govern-
ment, this object was at last attained; and the ve-
nerable promoter of the scheme had the satisfaction,
before his death, of seeing his views on the subject
in a fair way of being realized."^ On the death of
Dr. James Gregory, which haj^pened in 1821, Dr.
Duncan, who had long served his majesty when
Prince of Wales in that capacity, was appointed first
physician to the king for Scotland.

The Royal College of Physicians in 1824, as a signal
mark of respect and favour, re-elected Dr. Duncan
president; but he had now attained that advanced
age when men find it necessary to retire from the
more active cares and anxieties of the world. He
however continued, so long as he could command
bodily strength, to j^articipate in the business of those
institutions which had been his pride in earlier life.
More especially it was his pride to continue his
jihysiological lectures in the university; and to ]xiy
that attention to his jvaj^ils which always showed tlie
natural kindness of his heart. He made a ]ioint,
like his venerable preceptor Dr. Cullen. of inviting
them to his house, and cultivating a friendly and
confidential intercourse with them. It was his cus-
tom to invite a certain number to be ^\■itll him every
Sunday evening, which he intimate<l by little ]irinled
circulars, twenty or tiiirty of which he would issue
at a time, taking his pupils in the older they eiilere<l
to his class, until every one had been in\ iled. On
these occasions he conversed cheerfully and freely
with them on all subjects; a ]iractice which is surely
encouraging to the ])upil, and calculated to increase
rather than diminish his respect and attachment
towards the ]irofessor. His kindness of heart was
indeed unbounded. He never heard of a ])U])il hav-
ing to struggle against the ills of poverl}, or being
in any kind of distress, that he did not exert himself
to emancipate him from such difiiculty; and many
now live whose feelings of silent gratitude are the
most ajipnjjjriate homage to his memory. "While
his benevolence fell with the warmth of a sunbeam
on all who came within tlie s])here of its iidlueiu'e, it
was more esi)ecially experienced," says Dr. Huie,

1 IIa,-;'i,iii Orat;<vi for i!^29. liy R. Huie, M.l>.. who
ijtclcd Dr. iJuiicaii a^ bccrelary to the llarvcian Society.

ANDREW DUN'CAN.

499

"by those students of me<licine who came from a
distance, and had the good fortune to attract or l)e
recommended to his notice. Over them he watched
with paternal sohcitude. lie invited them wlien in
heahh to his house and his table. He attended them
wlien in sickness with assiduity and tenderness, and
when they sunk the victims of premature cHsease, the
sepulciire of his family was thrown open for their re-
mains."'

lie was in some respects eccentric; but there was
not an eccentricity or custom he adopted which did
not indicate that some generous or good feeling was
the ruling principle of his actions. In addition to
the institutions to which we have alluded, of a grave
character, Dr. Duncan established the Esculapian
and Gymnastic clubs, at which, by assembling round
the social and convivial board, it was intended to
soften down those asperities and inimical feelings
which, proverbially and from the most ancient time,
have been imputed to medical men. With the same
object in view, and to encourage a taste for experi-
mental research, in the year 1782 he founded tlie
Ilarveian Society, to which, for a period of forty-
seven years, he discharged tlie duties of secretary.
This society, which still tlourishes, proposes annually
a ([uestion, or the subject for an essay; and an honor-
ary rewaril, consisting of a gold medal and a copy of
the works of the great exemplar, is awarded to the
successful candidate. The adjudication takes place
jiublicly on the anniversary of Harvey's birth-day,
which is afterwards commemorated by an elegant
convivial entertainment. Before adjudging the prize,
the .secretary is appointed to pronounce an eio^e on
some deceased ornament of the profession ; and
among others, those read by Dr. Duncan on the lives
of Alexander Monro, primus, Alexander Monro,
sccitiidus, and Sir Joseph Banks, merit particular
notice. Dr. Duncan occasionally stepped aside from
the ordinary avocations of his profession to indulge
in effusions — both prose and verse — little consonant
with the more general tenor of his occupations.
Among these we may notice a work he published,
entitled " Kh>.:;iorum Sepithhralium Ediiuitsium dc-
Lrliis — Monumental Inscriptions selected from Burial-
grounds near Kdinburgh;" in the ]ireface of which,
speaking as the editor, he observes: ".Since the
death of an amiable son, the editor has made it a
religious duty to pay a visit to his grave every Clirist-
mas-day, the period of his death. This visit he has
also extended to other churchyards, where the dust
of several of his best friends is now deposited. His
meditations during these mournful visits have led
him to imagine that he was invited by the calls of
gratitude to take this method of jsromidgating com-
memorations of departed worth." He then ?Ai\>
that he h.is selected the inscrijjtioiis anil printed them
in that fnrni for the benefit of "an able scholar,
who. depressed by accidental misfortunes in the mer-
cantile line, now supjiorts a young family by his
knowledge of ancient and mod'-rn languages."' This
is ]x'c\iliarly cliaractcri-.tic both of the affectionate
an! ch.ir:lal)ledisi)usition of \\\> nature. He alwavs,
even to the very latent jicriol of hi, life, looked back
with satislactioii and jiride at the i)eriod when he
]iarticipated in tiie proceeding, of ilic Royal Medical
Society; and it was his cu-to;n to go down to the
medical hall one night or more every >ea>on. for the
purpose of hearing the di>cu-,ion>. in which he alwavs
ex[iresscd great interc-t. lu the winter of 1S27 he
visited it f )r the la>t time, l.'eing then in t;;e eightv-
third year of his age. The niemher, of that society
had two years previously te, tided the high esteem in

which they held his memory, by subscribing for a
full-length portrait of him, which was admirably exe-
cuted by i\lr. Watson Gordon, and now adorns the
hall of the institution. It had been Dr. Duncan's
custom iox more than half a centurv' to pay an an-
nual visit to the summit of Arthur's Scat every May-
day morning. This feat of pedestrianism he accom-
plished as Usual on the 1st of May, 1827; but he
was obliged, from a feeling of physical infinnity, to
relinquish the attempt in May, 1828, on which day
he had invited some friends to dine with him; fmding
himself rather unwell in the morning, he was under
the necessity of retiring and confining himself to his
chamber. From this period he was never able to go
abroad. His appetite and flesh failed him, and,
without having suffered any acute pain, he ex-
I)ired on the 5th of July, in the eighty-fourth year of
his age.

His funeral was attended by the magistrates and
town council of Edinburgh; the principal and pro-
fessors of the university, the Royal College of Physi-
cians, the managers and medical officers of the Royal
Public I)ispensary, the Royal Medical Society, the
Royal Physical .Society, the Caledonian Horticultural
.Society, and a large assemblage of jirivate gentlemen
and friends of the venerable deceased.

He jiublished numerous works during the course
of his lil'e; among which, Rleimnts of Therapeutics —
.Medical Comiiieiitaries — Heads of Lectures cu the
Theory and Practice of Physic — Annals of Mcdicnie
— Essay on Consumption — Medical Cases and Obser-
vations, may be regarded as important additions to
the medical literature of that period. To the Royal
College of Physicians he becjueathed seventy volumes
of M.S. notes from the lectures of the founders of the
lulinburgh school of medicine, Drs. Munro/;7w;/j-,
Rutherford, Alston, .St. Clair, and Plummer; to-
gether with one hundred volumes of practical obser-
vations in his own hand-writing, which he had em-
jiloyed as notes for his clinical lectures. His exer-
tions in his ])rofession, and in the general cause ol"
humanity, obtained for him the highest respect of
his contemporaries, both at home and abroad. He
was elected a corresponding mendicr of the Medical
.Society of Denmark in 1776, and of the Royal Medical
.'Society of Paris in 1778; he was chosen a member of
the American Philosophical .Society of Phila'klphia
in 1786, and cif the Medical .'society of London in
17S7; he was appointed an honorary mend)er of
the Cesarian university of Moscow in 1805, and first
president of the Medico-chirurgical Society of Ildin-
Imrgh at its institution in 1821. As a professor in
the university of Kdiidiurgh he was deservedly es-
teemed. His lectures were written in a ]"iers]i;cuous
and unadorned style, and the ]>hysiological doctriiie-
he ]iromulgated were those which were considered
the best estat)l!she<l at that period ; and th.e-e l:e e\-
l")Iained in so clear a manner that his cour;
tares may even yet be regarded as valuable,
standing the additions that have been since tr.a',
our knowledge in this department <>' r.iedieai -^.-.l!
His style of lecturing was sim]>!e and un.itT-jLte i.
no man could discharge nuire conscieni
duties of his office. Both a, a jir^iessor ai
in his ]niblic and i^rivate career, his r.iariv
qualities endeared him to soc.i
all who liati the r. loii fortune per

.:w ith-

ihe

.d c^re.i

;v to ki-,(.\

!lv to
him.

Or.'.ticn fvii

DUNaAJN*. Am.ki;\v. junr.. M.D.. the v<n ff
the excellent i hy~ic;:-.n w !;■ -r r:ie;:i' 'ir we ha\e given
above, is entille'i t" a jroir.iner.t ra;ik a:r.or^g tlio-e
who have di-tin^ui-'ied theni-elves in tlie h:-t:'ry (4".
medicine. lie w.-.- 1 im in lidiriliurgh on ih.e lOth
.\ugust, 1773. At a:! ear'y age he sii^wcd a ; rcii-

500

ANDREW DUNCAN.

lection for medical science, being, when yet very
voiing, often found in his father's library poring over
medical books; to gratify which inclination he would
often rise at an early hour before the rest of the
family. His father naturally therefore destined him
for the profession, and after going through the pre-
liminary course of education prescribed for youth, he
commenced its study in 1787. That he might be-
come acquainted with the science in all its practical
details, he served a regular apprenticeship for five
years with Messrs. Alexander and George Wood,
fellows of the Royal College of Surgeons; during
which probation he toiled assiduously in laying the
foundation of his future reputation. He then went
through a complete course of literature and philo-
sophy at the university, where, in 1793, he was
admitted Master of Arts, and in 1794 received the
degree of Doctor of Medicine.

With the view of acquiring a still more competent
knowledge of his profession, he spent the ensuing
winter, 1794-95, in London, where he attended the lec-
tures on anatomy and surgery, then delivered in Wind-
mill Street, by Dr. Baillie and Mr. Cruickshank; and
dissected under the superintendence of Mr. Wilson.
He there also became a pupil of Dr. George Pearson
in chemistry, materia medica, and medicine, and
received unusual advantages and opportunities of
improvement from the attention and kindness of his
father's numerous friends. He then proceeded to
the Continent. After spending some time in Ham-
i^urg, Brunswick, and Hanover, for the purpose of
acquiring the German language, seeing the hospitals
of those cities, and becoming personally acquainted
with the distinguished individuals at the head of the
profession there, he entered himself a student in the
university of Gottingcn. There he attended the
hospital under Richiter, and resided with Professor
(jrellman, and had the good fortune to enjoy the
intimate acquaintance of Blumenbach, Torisberg,
Gmelin, Arnemann, .Stromeyer, and Heine, gaining
besides the friendship of many of the most distin-
guished students, who afterwards filled chairs in the
universities of Germany.

From Gottingen he went to Vienna, visiting the
hospitals and most of the celebrated men in the
various universities and capitals through which he
passed; after which he proceeded to Italy through
the Tyrol, and having seen the hospitals at Milan,
re.-,ided during the winter at Pisa, in the house of
Brugnatelli, the ]>rofessor of chemistry. He there
attended the lectures and hospital practice of Scarpa,
whose friendship and correspondence he had ever
afterwards the h(jnour of retaining; and also clinical
meiiicine under Jose])h Frank, and natural history
un<ler Spallanzani. He tlien made the tour of Italy
as far as N'a])lcs, remained some time at Rome, and
returned by i'adiia, Venice, and Trieste, to Vienna,
where he attended the clinical lectures of John Peter
h'rank, then at the head of the ]Mofession in ( lermanv.
From Vieima he returned home, through Prague,
Leipsic, Halle, Dres<len, and Berlin, remaining in
each long enough to see the ])ub]ic institutions and
become acquainted with the mo^t cclclirated men.
During this tour, not only did he acquire a more
accurate and more extensive knowledge concerning
the medical institutions and the state of medical
science abroad than was at that time pos--csse<l by
other medical men in this country; but he attained a
proficiency in foreign languages, and an erudition in
literature, wliich added all the accomiilislnnents of a
sch )Iar to his (pialifications as a physician. Here,
too, in leisure hours snatched from severer studies,
he cultivated his taste f(;r the fine arts, more es]K'-
cially for painting and mu>ic, in which he ever after-

wards found a charm to relieve him from the fatigues
he had to encounter in the laborious and anxious
discharge of his professional and professorial duties.

On his return to Edinburgh he assisted his father
in editing the Medical Commentaries, which, as we
have already stated, extended to twenty volumes,
and was succeeded by the Auna/s of Medicine, on
the title-page of which the name of Dr. Duncan,
junior, first appeared along with that of his father as
joint-editors. But, at the request of Lord Selkirk,
he was again induced to leave his native city to visit
the Continent, for the purpose of attending his lord-
ship's son, who was suffering under ill health. On
his arrival, however, he found that this young noble-
man had expired; but the attainments of Dr. Duncan
having attracted considerable notice on the Continent,
and being already signalized by a portion of the fame
he afterwards enjoyed, he was solicited to prolong
his stay in Italy, where he was by many invalids
professionally consulted, and again enjoyed the op-
portunity of p'-osecuting his favourite pursuits. No
man, perhaps, was ever more thoroughly imbued
with the love of knowledge. It was in him an innate
desire, urging him on with increasing restlessness to
constant mental activity. He now remained chiefly
in Florence and Pisa nine months, where he lived on
habits of intimacy with the celebrated Fontana and
Fabroni; and having afterwards visited many places
in Switzerland and Germany, which he had not
passed through during his former tour, he again re-
turned to Edinburgh. He there settled as a medical
practitioner, and was elected a fellow of the Royal
College of Physicians, and shortly afterwards one of
the physicians of the royal public dispensary, founded
by the exertions of his father in 1773.

While actively engaged in the practical department
of his profession, he did not neglect the application
of his erudition and talents to the diffusion and ad-
vancement of medical science among his professional
brethren. In 1805 he undertook the chief editorship
of the Edinlnirgli Alcdical and Surgical yottrual,
which long sustained the high reputation of being
one of the most valuable and infiuential medical
journals in Europe. He acted from the com-
mencement as the chief editor, although for some
time he was assisted by Dr. Kellie of Leith, Dr.
Balteman of London, Dr. Reeve of Norwich,
and afterwards by Dr. Craigie. But his chief and
most valuable contribution to medical science was
the Edinburgh Dispensatory, the first edition of
which appeared in 1S03. A similar work had been
published by Dr. Lewis in London, in 1753' nndcr
the title of the New Dispensatory, l)ut the advance-
ment of chemistry and pharmacy since that period
had rendered a conqjlete revision of it absolutely
necessary, 'i'liis task, which required no ordinary-
extent and variety of knowledge, and no slight as-
siduity, he executed with so much skill, judgment,
and lidelity, that his work, innnetliately on publica-
tion, conunanded the most extensive pojiularity, and
became a standard authority in every medical school
in lutrope. Notwithstanding, indeed, that it has
had to encounter the rivalshiji of other meritorious
works on ])harrnaceutic chemistry and materia medica,
it still maintains its pre-eminence. P>y Sir James
Wylie it was made great use of in his riiarnuuopivia
Castrensis Russica, ])ub!ished at Pjtersburg in iSoS,
for the use of the Russian army. It has been since
tr.anslated into German by I'^schenl)ach, with a pre-
face by Professor Kuhn; into French by Couverchel,
and has been several limes rejaiblished by dirferent
editors in y\merica.

He next conferred an essential service not only
on the univer.-,itv, but on the general interests of the

ANDREW DUXCAX.

501

community, by calling, in a strong and emphatic
manner, attention to that branch of science denomi-
nated by the Germans state medicine, which com-
prehends tlie ifrinciples of the evidence afforded by
the different branches of medicine in elucidating and
determining cjuestions in courts of law. This study,
to which the more appropriate term of medical
jurisprudence was applied, had been chiefly confined
to the Germans, nor had the advantages resulting
from their labours been sufficiently communicated to
other countries. This Dr. Duncan fully perceived.
He laid before the profession the substance of the few
medico-legal works which had then been published
on the Continent; he pointed out, and advocated
ably, the necessity of this department of medical
science being systematically studied in this country;
and, after combating many prejudices, and over-
coming many difficulties, succeeded in the cause he
defended, and was rewarded by seeing the chair of
medical jurisj^rudence instituted in the university.
To his exertions the profession — we should rather
say the public — is indebted for the institution of this
important professorship; and when we look at the
current of public events, and the numerous complex
and momentous cases that are continually agitated
in our justiciary and civil courts, often implicating
the libjrty, fortunes, and even lives of our fellow-
creatures, we cannot remain insensible of the great
good he has achieved. The chair of medical juris-
prudence and police was instituted in the Edinburgh
university in 1S07, and Dr. Duncan was considered
the most proper person to discharge its duties. He
was therefore appoinlefl the professor, and com-
menced his lectures the following session. He soon,
by the lectures he delivered, and tlie numerous papers
he published in his journal, impressed on the public
mind the importance of the science he taught; and
the interest he excited in its cultivation, both among
his pupils and medical practitioners generally, gave
in this country the first impetus to the progress of
medical jurisprutlence.

He repeatedly, during this time, was called upon
to assist his father in ofticiating as physician in the
clinical wards, and occasionally delivered clinical
lectures. He also had at times the charge of the
fever hospital at Queensberry House; to which, on
the resignation of Dr. .Spens, he was elected physi-
cian. But his introduction into the luiiversity
brought on him an accumulation of labours, for he
was shortly afterwartls appointed secretary and also
librarian; offices, the duties of which required at that
])eriod no ordinary exertions to discharge. Already
it may have been gathered from the lives of Drs.
Cullen and Duncan, senior, that the Edinburgh uni-
versity was at this time only just emerging from that
original infantine state which must precede the
niaturer glory of all institutions, on hc^wever grand
a scale; and although I'ltcairn, M'Laurin, the Mon-
roes, Plummer, ."^t. Clair, AUton, and Cullen, had
thrown over it a lustre wliich was recognized by men
of science throughout Eurojie, yet its internal state
and economy required the nio-t assiduous attention
and carefid management. The library, wiiich from
the charter of the college was entitled to every pub-
lished work, was at thi> time, as may rea-lily be .--up-
jiosed, a ma~s of confusion, which to reduce to any-
tliiiig like order was lutle less tlian an Herculean
ta^k. Added to this, the l)uilding f<f the univer-
si'.y was yet unfinislied, and every possihle incon-
venience opjiosed the duties of the lilirarian. .Still
the labours of Dr. Duncan were incessant. He
was then appointed otic of the ciimmissiuncrs for
superintending the completion of the building of
the college; and the services which in both capa-

cities he rendered to the public cannot be too highly
estimated.

Having officiated for his father and Dr. Rutherford
in the clinical wards of the Royal Infirmar)' during
the winter of 1817-18 and the summer of 1818, he
publisiied at the end of that year reports of his prac-
tice, for the ]iurpose of preserving a faithful record
of the epidemic which at that time spread its ravages
through Edinburgh. His labours did not go unre-
warded. In 1819 the p.atrons of the university ap-
pointed him joint i)rofessor with his father in the
chair of the theory of medicine. His skill as a lec-
turer on physiology was duly estimated by his pupils;
but he did not retain this office long, for in 1821,
Dr. Home, being translated to the chair of the prac-
tice of physic, he was elected in his jdace professor
of materia medica and pharmacy. It is worthy of
observation, that so highly were the riualifications of
Dr. Duncan appreciated, and so f>bviously did they
entitle him to this honour, that when it was under-
stood that he had come forward as a candidate, no
person ventured to compete with him for the vacated
chair. He commenced his lectures at considerable
disadvantage, being at the time in ill hcaltli, owing
to an accident he had recently met with; but his
abilities as a lecturer and his jMofound knowledge of
inateria medica, with all its collateral branches, being
well known, attracted crowds to his class, wliose
sanguine expectations of the excellence of his teach-
ing were amply redeemed. In the discharge of
his duties as a professor he laboured most conscien-
tiously, sacrificing his own comforts and health for
the instruction of his pupils. During this season, and
indeed ever after, says one who had every o]ii)or-
tunity of knowing his domestic habits, "he was otten
seated at his desk at three in the morning, for his
lectures underwent a continual course of additions
and improvements." When, by the tender solici-
tude of his own relatives, he was often entreated to
relax his incessant toils, and told that surely his task
must be finished, he would reply, that to medic'l
knowledge there was no end, and that his labours
must be therefore infinite; and so, truly, they were,
for it was one of the peculiar traits of his character
to be ever investigating, which he did with unwearied
patience, every new improvement and even.- new dis-
covery that was announced in this countr\" or on the
Continent. His lectures on materia medica were
most comprehensive and iirofound. and attracted so
great a number of students to his cla^s that the ex-
pectations which had been formed of the good wliich
the university would ilerive from his promotion were
amply fulfilled. He discharged the duties of this
professorship with unwearied zeal and a--s;'iuiLy for
eleven years. We have now arrived at tlie saddest
jieriod of his life. His constitution was never snv.itg.
It was constantly i)reyed upon by the exertions ,,t an
over-active min<i, \\hich allowed itsclt no rej'sc.
Had he been le^s solicitous .about tlie di-cliai\;e ot
his duties and less zealous in the pursuit <>', sciei.c",
his health might have been invig.jrated a:>i 'd.^ i;:e
prolonged. l!ut there was that disiariiy between
the ]H)wers and energies ot his vr.uvl a:;<i ti
vig>)ur of Ids body, which generally jiove
men of superior attaiiimer.l-. lie I. ad
toiled ince-santlv. 1 earing ir.) a^a-:;st the <
ne>s of id health ard ;.hv -;,..] ^uU^y[

•.ed

His

anxiety to discharge his

.;u;ies. inde

every other coiisi'iera;; m.

ar.d j'rom;.re

dure until endurance i;-e'

f ciiM i;o !.

own high rcsc'ives. 1 li-

-'.i"e:.g:!i. wh

severely impaiie i t>y an n'

tack '<•<: Wwr

tracted in t!ie disj;, -.r-c

of his ho-

gradual !v declined. Ar.e

• peisevcrin.;

d him to en

502

HENRY DU^XAN.

his lectures until nearly the end of the session, he
took to his bed in April, 1832, and having endured a
lingering illness, during which he displayed all that
patience and moral courage which are characteristic
of a highly-giftetl mind, he died on the 13th of the
following May, in the fifty-eighth year of his age.
His funeral, according to his own directions, was in-
tended to be strictly private; but the members of
numerous institutions, anxious to show their affection
for his memory, met in the burial-ground to attend
the obsequies of their lamented friend.

Great energy and activity of mind, a universality of
genius that made every subject, from the most ab-
struse to the most trivial, alike familiar to him, and
a devoted love of science, which often led him to
prefer its advancement to the establishment of his
own fame, were his distinguishing traits. So well
was he known and appreciated on the Continent, that
he received, unsolicited on his part, honorary degrees
and other distinctions from the most famous univer-
sities; and few foreigners of distinction visited Edin-
burgh without bringing introductions to him. lie
had the honour of being in the habit of correspond-
ing with many of the most distinguished persons
in Europe, whether celebrated for high rank or su-
perior mental endowments. He had a great taste
for the fine arts in general, and for music in particular,
and from his extensive knowledge of languages was
well versed in the literature of many nations. His
manners were free from pedantry or affectation, and
were remarkable for that unobtrusiveness which is
often the peculiar characteristic of superior genius.
He possessed a delicacy of feeling and a sense of
honour and integrity amounting in the estimation of
many to fastidiousness, but which were the elements
of his moral character. He was indeed as much an
ornament to private as to public life.

Among his contributions to medical science de-
serving especial notice may be enumerated his ex-
periments on Peruvian bark, wherel^y he discovered
cinchonin, and paved the way for the discovery of
the vegetaljle alkaloids, which has so essentially con-
tributed to the advancement of pharmaceutic science;
his examination of the structure of the heart and the
complicated course of its fibres; his paper on diffuse
inilammation of the cellular tissue; and more recently
his Experiments on Medicine, communicated to the
Royal .Society of Edinburgh in December, 1830. In
addition to these, and besides the numerous essays
written in his own journal, he contributed to the
EdnibiD^^h Review the articles on the "Pharma-
cop'L-ia of the Royal College of Physicians," on
" V'accination," and on "Dr. Thomson's System of
Chemi>try;" and to iha Siippleiiicnl of (he Encyclo-
p(edia lU-ilainiica those on " Ac|ua Toffana," "Diges-
tion,"' and "Eood."

DUNCAN, Rev. IIknkv, D.D. This excellent
divine, wh'jse life was so distinguished by active
practical usefulness, was born at Eochrulton manse,
on the 8tli of October, 1774. His father, the Rev.
George Duncan, was minister of tiie ])arish of I.och-
rutton. in the stewartry of Kirkcudljright, an<l his
grandfather had also held the same ])arociiial charge-.
Indeed both by father and mother Henry Duncan
traced his descent from a line of ministers that
abn jst reached to the days of the covenant, so that
he was wijut to com]iare his family to tlie tribe of I,(;vi.
It v.as not wonderful, therefore, that nut <H)ly liiin-
self, but his younger brother, Thomas, slunild direct
their choice and their studies to the ministry. After
a careful home education at the manse of Lochrutt(jn,
and subsequently a public one at the academy of
Dumfries, Henry Duncan went to the university of

St. Andrews in 1778. Two years after a temporary
interruption in his college studies occurred, in con-
sequence of his near relation Dr. Currie, the bio-
grapher of Burns, inviting him to enter a bankmg
establishment in Liverpool with a view to becoming
a merchant. Henry, whose purposes were not as
yet very definite, complied, and in 1790 exchanged
the occupations of a student for those of a banker's
clerk.

During the three years which Heniy Duncan thus
spent in Liverpool, his time was not wholly employed
in the details of business and banking calculations.
Erom his natural bias, talents, and previous educa-
tion, he coukl not be hap]iy without the enjoyments
of literary exercise, and therefore he not only sought
every opportunity of frequenting intellectual society,
but renewed his old studies, and wrote poetry. All
these were significant tokens that he would not vol-
untarily become a banker: his choice was to be a
parish minister rather than a millionaire; and this,
too, not at the time from religious considerations,
but the opportunities which he would enjoy for those
literary pursuits which, in his eyes, formed the best
occupation of life. After much reluctance his wishes
were complied with, and he returned to Scotland in
1793, and continued his studies for five years, partly
at the university of Edinburgh and partly at that of
Glasgow. Having completed the required courses,
he was taken upon trial by the presbytery of Dumfries,
and licensed as a preacher of the gospel in 1798,
after which, like many other licentiates, he betook
himself to the occupation of a family tutor, until a pre-
sentation should introduce him into a settled charge.
The place of his sojourn on this occasion was the
Highlands; and as the whole heather was in a blaze
of patriotic ardour at this period, from the threat of
a P'rench invasion, the young enthusiastic preacher
caught the general spirit, and carried it so far, that
besides girding himself with the usual weapons of
military exercise, he assumed the Highland garb, to
the great astonishinent and mirth of its legitimate
wearers, who had never seen theology so habited.
It was as well that all this should speedily terminate,
and accordingly, in 1799, not less than two presen-
tations and one popular call offered themselves at
the same period to his acceptance: these were to
the parishes of Lochmaben and Ruthwell, and to
a congregation of Presliyterians in Irelantl. Mr.
Duncan made his election in favour of Ruthwell,
although it was the least tempting of the two parishes.
It presented however, what he considered f)f chief
account — the best oj)portunity of a lile of clerical
usefulness.

The first act of Mr. Duncan after receiving the
presentation was well fitted to endear him to tlie
affections of his future parishioners. By law he
was entitled to the crop upon the glebe, should his
settlement take place before its removal, by merely
])aying the expenses for seed and labour. This right,
however, he waived in favour of the widow and
daugliter of the late incumbent, allowing her in
the meantime to ]nil into the groimd what crop
she pleased; and, in order that she might reaji it
undistiu'bed by legal technicalities, he delayed his
settlement till the 19th of September, when he was
solemnly inducted into his jiarish at the age ol
twenty-five, with a jiastoral charge delivered to him
by the aged minister who presided, from the text,
" Let no man desj)ise thy youth." On l)eing settled,
he entered into his clerical duties, so far as he tnider-
stood them, with all the warmth of his affectionae
h -art, and all the energy of his active spirit, visitirg
and catechising from house to house, in addition to
liii public labours on the Sabbath. But the deep

IIENRV DUNCAN*.

5=3

ignorance, and somewhat lawless border character
of his flock — for the parish lies on the shores of the
Solway, and witliin the border district — were not the
only difficulties with which he had to contend; for to
these impediments were added the extreme poverty
of the people occasioned by a course of scanty har-
vests, wliile the landlords were at their wits' end
and knew not what remedy to devise. Finding that
something must be done, and that speedily, Mr.
Dunaxn, at his own risk, and through his two
bnnliers settled in Liverpool, procured a cargo of
Indian corn, which was retailed by his orders at
prime co>t, and in several cases where no money
could be forthcoming, upon credit. But while com-
fort was tiuis introduced into the cottages of Rulh-
well, and himself the only loser, he rejoiced in the
expense and trouble he had undergone, as his plan
was adopted by many. Another public case equally
urgent, although of a less clerical character, arose
from the threats of an invasion of Britain, which the
French government still continued to hold out.
Justly conceiving it to be his duty to set an example
of Christian patriotism on this occasion, he roused
his parishioners to resistance, and in consequence of
this a corps, called the Ruthwell Volunteers, was
soon eml)odied, with the minister for their captain.
This office, indeed, whether willing or not, it was
necessary that he should accept, otherwise his par-
ishioners would scarcely have cared U) come for-
ward. Mr. Duncan, although perhaps the fust
clerical captain of this period, did not long stand
alone, as many of the other parishes of .Scotland
followed the instance of Ruthwell, so that the same
voice which uttered the military commands of to-day,
was often emjiloyed in the public religious ministra-
tions of to-morrow. It was the old sjiirit of Drumclog
and Bothwell Bridge come back again, and no Pro-
testant country but Scotland coulil perhaps have
given such an example.

Thus far Mr. Duncan had gone on, beloved by his
people, to whom he was a fair example of all that is
dignified and amiable in the natural man, as well as
zealous in the discharge of all those general duties
with which his office was C(innected. .Something
more, however, was still necessary to bring him into
vital contact with the spiritual life of his sacred
calling, and show how much as yet wa> wanting in
his endeavours to promote the eternal welfare of
those committed to his charge. His example and
his efforts, excellent though they were, had still fallen
short of the mark. But in 1S04 the time ha^l come
when those spiritual perceptions were to be vouch-
s.ited to him under which he would continue his
niini-iterial career with new ardour and redoubled effi-
cacy. This new light, too, under which such a happv
cliange was to be accomiilished, was neither to arise
fr')m the >tudy of the works of the great masters of
theology, nor yet Irom the reasonings or example of
his learned co-presbyters; hut fr<)m a despised people,
a^ yet ahnost new in .Scotland, and wliose names were
seldom mentioned except for purposes of ridicule
and merriment. One man and two wonien of the
society called Friend-, or <^uaker^, ha^l arrived at
Annan, and announced their intention of holding a
meeting in the evening tor wor.-hip. Induced by
curiosity, Mr. Duncan, who was in the town, at-
tended the meeting, and was >truck by tlie warmth
and simplieiiy with which the>e --trange preachers
enunciated tho>e t'hri-tian doetrine> that liad long
been familiar to his mind, l)ut to which the new
style wherein they were now embodied, imparted
the charm and power of novelty. .\n interview
with the Onaker-> followed, an'l the impres-ion was
deepened; the mini>ler gradually began to jrerceive

that he had something still to learn Ijcfore he could
become an effective Christian teacher. The les.son
alx)de with him until, through a course of years, its
fruits were ripened and matured; and ever after he
was wont to revert with i)leasure to this visit of the
"Friends," and the benefits he had derived from
them. In the same year which so powerfully influ-
enced him for the future, he married Mi>s Agnes
Craig, the only surviving daughter of his predeces->or,
in whose energy of character, refined taste, and ac-
tive practical disposition, he found a mind congenial
to his own in the work of life that still lay Ijcfore
him, and a counsellor to whom he could refer in
every difficulty.

And now that the stirring enterprising mind of the
minister of Ruthwell had received a lyrw impulse, as
well as a fit companion and assistant, his career was
to be traced in a series of benevolent parochial plans
from which he never desisted until they were realized.
Ruthwell was not only a very jjoor parish, but sub-
ject to periodical visits of extreme destitution; and
for such a population, amounting to licxj souls, the
fund for the poor, which was collected at the church-
door, amounted annually to only about £2^. As this
constitutional poverty threatened to grow with the
changes of modern living, and as Mr. Duncan
dreaded the establishment of that artificial and com-
]iulsory charity called a ])oor's-rate, Ijy which idle-
ness would be encourageil and the honourable inde-
pendent spirit of the ])oor broken down, he had set
in earnest from the beginning to make them a self-
supporting people. A friendly society, indeed, had
been established among them so early as 1796; but
from the imperfection of its plan, and the inexperi-
ence of its supporters, it had come to nothing. Un-
dismayed by the evil omen of such a failure, and the
despondency it had occasioned, Mr. Duncan brought
the whole strength and ex])erience of his mind to a
revival of the plan under better arrangements; aiul
the result was, that several friendly societies were
originated in Ruthwell, having 3CX) members inde-
pendent of the "parish box," and hajqiy with each
other in their ]iublic meetings and temperate soirees.
Coincident with this was Mr. Duncans concern for
the intellectual as well as ])hy.-.ical and moral eleva-
tion of his people; and therefore he endeavoured, by
conversational lectures which he held on the Sunday
evenings, to illustrate the Divine attril>utcs, as mani-
fested in the sciences of astronomy, physics, and his-
tory. This, however, unfortunately siagi;ered the
people, who as yet were neither preparetl (or such
Sabbath ministrations, nor t(j believe that the earth
turns round, and that the .-.tars are of such jirodigious
magnitude. With the same purpose of elevating
the lower onlers, and inspiring them with the capa-
cities as well as right feelings of industrious manly
independence, he next commenced, in iSoS. a serial
work, of great efficacy in its day, under the title of the
Sto!c/i C/u\i/> A'cfositorv. This periodical, cousi-tiiig
of sliort tracts and stories, was formed upon the plan
of Mrs. Hannah More"s C V;.-,// J/.\'./:.v.- ; ar.d ! oih
were tb.e jjiecursors of penny niaga.'.ir.e-. t liain! ers"
journals, and the other econoniica! ] oj,.iIar literature
of the jiresent <lay. In sui'plying tlie nia'criaU i<.r
his A'c-fosi/i'ij. Mr. Duncan wa- a-i-ted I'V live <■!
his clerical brethren, and by M;- 1 laii^:;;i.i:i, the
justly-famed authored- oi ;!ie (' .".\.; . <' (/.. v.''. 'i ''.•.-<■;
wliilo his own i^rincipal ^onti;'oa;;"ii. er.l.iled /'.t'
C'ff.i^r I-':>y.::iii\ .!■ /'z'v.v .^; ■;,..>/.■.:. /.'r. nfterwanis
publislied in a separate I'oiT.i, was •.;;i> eulogi/eil by
that Ari-tavehus of nvicrn erifn-i-ir.. tlie 1; '.•...•;,'.■;, v
/\Vrv<7i'.- — •• In point -f ;,ei!\:i!-.e hr.in.iir ar.d ] atlm-,
we arc inclined tv> liiink th.at it lair'.y ir.e: ;■.- a jilace
bv the side of tl;e (.;.■/..-, vv ,y" oV. ■•; '/rr';.;-, while the

504

HENRY DUNCAN.

knowledge it displays of Scottish manners and char-
acter is more correct and more profound." Without
going out of his way to seek it, Mr. Duncan's talents
as an author were now so higlily appreciated, that
his pen was in demand both from the J£dinbnrgh
Encyclopicdia and the CItrisiian Instructor — to the
former of wliich he supplied the articles "Blair" and
"Blacklock," antl to the latter several valuable con-
tributions extending over many years. His next
]5rincipal object was the establishment of a provincial
newspaper, the Weekly yoiirual of Dumfries being
but a poor production, while the important events
of the day, and the growing wants of tlie public
mind, if not supplied with adequate sustenance,
would have only opened the way for the publications
of political discontent, false philosophy, and infi-
delity. Aware of this danger, and eager to avail
liimself of the opportunities of such a season for in-
doctrinating the public with substantial, liealthy, and
purified intelligence, Mr. Duncan had recourse to his
brothers in Liverpool for the pecuniary means of
action, and with tlieir aid was enabled, at the close
of 1809, to start the Dumfries and Gallaioay Courier,
a weekly newspaper, to which, without announcing
the fact, he officiated as editor for the first seven years.
In this way he originated the best and most influential
of all our .Scottish provincial journals, and happily
its reputation did not deteriorate under the able man-
agement of Mr. M'Diarmid, who, in 1817, suc-
ceeded Mr. Duncan in the editorsliip. All this
while the wonderful activity which the minister of
Ruihwell displayed, and the amount of versatile
intelligence he Ijrought to a great variety of action,
cannot be too widely known. While he was care-
ful in all his pulpit preparations, and enriching the
columns of his journal with powerful and original
articles, he was conducting as secretary the busi-
ness of tiie Dumfries Auxiliary Bible Society, which
he had formed in 1810; and, as president, that of the
Dumfries .Missionary Society. But this was not all.
He was surrounding the manse of Ruthwell with a
rich picturesque garden, and so effectually cultivating
his fifty-acre glebe, that while a new scenery at
length rose beneath his hand out of a bleak waste,
his labours were the most instructive models that
could iiave been presented to his own j^eople and
neighbourhood of what might be achieved in horti-
culture and agriculture, by one's own taste and in-
dustry, independent of a plentiful capital. Within
tlie manse, too, tliere was no elbow-chair repose after
such out-rloor occupation; on the contrary, it was a
fit beehive for such a scenery, and resounded from
morning till niijlu with the hum of happy, active in-
dustry— for a domestic scliocd was there,, composed
of a few boarders whom Mr. Duncan taught in addi-
tion to his own fimily, and in wiiose training he was
the mo>t careful, as well as most affectionate, of fathers
and teachers. JOven if we were to combine l'o])e's
.\[an of Ross and (Jol'lsniitli's Country Cler:^v>iian
into one, we would still have to search fur a ihiid
];erson, learned and able in auth(jrship, to conqilete
a parallel ])icture.

But the greatest and most important of Mr.
Duncan's public labours remains still to l)e mrn-
tioncd: tills was the establislmienl of saviuL^s-banks,
by which his name will be best remembeml by pns-
tcrit}-. Mention has already been made of hi-, desire
to f )^ter a spirit of independence among the lower
orders, by cherishing the ]irinciples of ])i()vide-nt
economy through the estaljlishment of friendly so-
cieties. In his researches, to wliich this attempt
led, he found a Jiajjcr, written by .Mr. John Bone,
f'f I.omlon, containing a i>lan for the abolitic)n of
poor's-ratcs in lingland ; and among its complicateil

devices, which for the most part were too ingenious
to be practical, the idea was thrown out of the erec-
tion of an economical bank for the savings of the
working-classes. Upon this suggestion Mr. Duncan
fastened ; although occurring as a pendicle, it con-
tained the real pith and marrow of the whole sub-
ject, and might be easily reduced to working opera-
tion. He drew up a j:)lan for the establishment of
savings-banks throughout the country, which he
published in his Dumfries journal ; and, knowing
that this would be regarded as a mere theory until it
was verified by at least one substantial illustrative
fact, he proceeded to the establishment of one of
these banks in his own parish. Its working was
soon sufficient to convince the most sceptical. The
Ruthwell savings-bank commenced its existence in
May, 1810; and although the poverty of this parish
was beyond that of most in Scotland, the dej^osits
during a course of four years were ;i^i5i, f'^1^,
^^241, and ;^922. This success was announced, and
the plan of act'on he had drawn up in the Dumfries
Courier was republished in several of the leading
journals of Scotland ; and the natural consequence
was that savings-banks, established upon the model
of that of Ruthwell, were opened not only in Edin-
burgh, but the principal towns throughout the king-
dom. It was well for such a provident scheme that
It had found Scotland for its birth-place and first
field of action. From Scotland the example passed
into England, and afterwards into Ireland; and with
what happy results the superior economy of the in-
dustrious poor throughout the three kingdoms, and
the immense amount of capital that has now accumu-
lated, can bear full testimony. During this course
of operation the honoured founder of the scheme was
not forgot, chiefly however that he might lend his
gratuitous labours to the furtherance of the good
work; and for this purpose applications for counsel
and suggestion poured in upon him from every quar-
ter, the answers to which would have tasked a state-
secretary and whole staff of assistants, instead of an
already overladen country minister. But, cheered
with this evidence of the success of his benevolent
mission, Mr. Duncan confronted the epistolary tor-
rent, and had an answer for every inquirer. "Hap-
pily for himself and his cause," thus writes his
amiable biogra]:)her, "his readiness as a letter-writer
was one of his most remarl;aljle characteristics.
Whole days, indeed, were frecjuenlly consumed in
this laborious occupation ; but the amount of work
accomplished while thus engaged was indeed aston-
ishing. This may be understood when it is remem-
bered that, among his correspondents in a scheme st)
entirely new, there must have been, as there were,
many desirous of minute information and sjiecial
explanations; many suggesting difficulties, and de-
manding their sf>liiti(jn ; many persevering and in-
satiable letter-writers, making small allowance fc^r
the ovurburdened and weary individual on wiiom
had thus at once devolved the care of a thousand
infant institutions. Afld to this, that the soundness
of some of the ])rinciides on \\hicli he was most de-
cided was disputed bv a few of the warmest friends
of. the measure, and that he had to maintain on these
topics a tedious conlro\ersy, not the less necessary
because tlio>e with whom it was carried on were
among his best friends and coadjutors." \\'hile thus
engaged, he also published, at the beginning of 1S15,
an essay On the A'ntnre mid Ad7'ant(V^es of Pansh
Juuik.s; to:^ether lottli a Corrected Cofy' of 'the Rules
and Re^e^iilations of the Parent Institution in Rutln.'ell,
for which ]n-oduction a new and enlarged edition
was in (Icmaml in the following year. Thu-. it will
be seen that Mr. Duncrai was no mere benevolent

HENRY DUNCAN.

SOS

dreamer, even as a savings-bank was no mere "de-
vout imagination." He was a man of fearless daring
and incessant labour, and therefore in his hands the
theory became a great substantial and national
reality. And well was his benevolent disinterested
heart rewarded in its own best fashion. To few of
those who would teach tniths "to save a sinking
land" is the ha|)py lot accorded to witness these
truths in full operation, and producing their happiest
results.

After the general adoption of the principle of sav-
ings-banks throughout the three kingdoms, from
which it gra<lually dilTused itself througiiout the dif-
ferent countries of liurope, where it was adopted as
the true "cheap defence of nations," it would have
been contrary to all past experience, since the days
of Triptolemus, if Mr. Duncan had been allowed to
sit down as a public benefactor, and no angry wind
had blown to shake the laurels that grew around
him. Carping questions rose as to the fitness of iiis
scheme, either in whole or in part; and when tiiese
were satisfactorily answered, attempts were made to
bereave him of the honour of its i^aternity. A more
difficult as well as more important step was to obtain
for it the advantages of legislative protection, and
for this purjiose he repaired to London in the spring
of iSig. After much negotiation with some of the
leading financiers and statesmen, whom he converted
to his views, the measure was introduced, and suc-
cessfully carried through parliament. "You may
carry with you," said a friend to him on that
occasion, "the satisfaction of knowing that the
savings-bank bill woukl not have been carried ex-
cept by your visit to London." During the same
year, ami wliile the political discontent of the lower
orders was daily threatening to merge into French
infidelity and republicanism, Mr. Duncan published
his Youitg South Country ll'ocnrr, a tale admiral^Iy
suited to the times, as well as the classes for which
it was especially written, being full of Scottish
humour, and vigorous descriptions of such ]5opular
meetings an<l noisy demagogues as were in vogue
among the raljble during this stormy period. In
1S23 the degree of D. D. was conferred upon him
by the university of St. Andrews. In 1826, stimu-
lated by the example of .Sir Walter Scott's novels,
as well as offended with the tone of the tale of ()/■/
Mortality, in which our Pre>l)yterian ancestors are
held up to ridicule, Dr. Duncan attempted a work
in the same style, but of an opposite tendency, in
whicli he resolved to place the characters of the
C"ovenanters in their proper light. I'"or this purpose
he wrote William J)o!i:;las, or t/ie Scottis/i l-^xiLs, a
ihree-vohime tale, which, however excellent in its
w.iy, was by no means a match for the powerful
a:Uagoni>t whioli it attcmpte<l to confront. Init
nou o//ni;a /''•ss!f;/!.'ts or?riii-s: and perhaps it was not
altogether lilting or desiralde that the minister of
Kutiuvell and founder of savings-banks sliould be as
able and jiopular a novelist as the "author of
Waveiiev.'

In a HiV so active and so full of incidents as that
(■'f Dr. Du:ican, it would be inip<.)ssilile, within our
narrow lim t--. to give even a linef <letail of his manv
occupations and their results. We are tiierelore
obliged to di^nii^s tlie labours of year^. tilled a> thev
were witii lii^ pl.tn-- lir the better instruction of the
lower classes —with hi^ attempts to a\ert, or at least
retard, the inii'o^ition of a ]iooi\-rate in Ruthweli,
and over the country at large and the active exer-
tions he male in lavour of t:ie Roman Catholic
relief bill, and aUer'.var''.^ in behalf of negro eman-
cipation. We nr.i-t e\'t-n na~s d'.er his researclies
among the f<K'tpr!;its of aniu'ia!>, which he \va> the

first to detect in the strata of old red sandstone; by
which, according to Dr. Auckland, his discovery was
"one of the most curious and most important that
has been ever made in geology." In ail these there
was abundance of literary correspondence and author-
ship, in which he lx;stirred himself with his wonted
activity an<l success. Hut events were n<jw occurring
in the church of sufficient imjiort tu absorb the atten-
tion and task the utmost energies of every zealous
minister, let him be of what jiarty he might; and,
under the intluence of these. Dr. Duncan was sum-
moned to abandon his favourite jnirMiits, and throw
his whole heart into a conflict in which the very
existence of the national church itself ajipeared to
be at stake.

This controversy, which fmally le<l to the disnip-
tion, commenced with the pojailar hostility towards
patnjnage. In a mere political point of view, indeed,
j'latronage had fully lasted its day. The peo[)le of
Scotland had now become so dive.--led of their old
feudal veneration for rank and jilace, and withal so
intelligent and inquiring, that they were no longer
in the mood of imi)licitly submitting their spiritual
guidance to any earthly patron whatever. This
pal])al)le fact, however, it was not the interest of the
aristocracy to recognize, and therefore they could
not see it; so that, instead of gracefully conceding a
privilege which in a few years more would have been
worn-out and worthless, they preferred to cling to it
until it should be torn from their grasp. On the
subject of patronage Dr. Duncan had meciitated long
and anxiously; and, being convinced that it was an
evil, he joined in the great popular movement that
sought its suppression.

The proceedings of Dr. Duncan in the subsequent
measures of the church may be easily surmise<l. In
the most important of these he bore an active part;
and when the convocation was assembled in Kdin-
burgh, in 1S42, he attended as one of the fithers of
the church, and gave the benefit of his experience to
its deliberations. On the iSth of May, 1S43, the
General Assembly met, and on that oeca>iiin 474
ministers abandoned their livings, and departed,
that they might constitute a church in coiil<irmity
with those principles for whicli they had made tlie
sacrifice. Dr. Duncan, who had been i-re-eiit c:i
the occasion, and joined the solemn exodus, re-
turned to Ruthweli, to gather together that portion
of his flock which still adhered to him. Tb.ey con-
stituted nearly the half, though the kn>t wealthy
]->art, of the church-going population of the j-aridi;
l)ut their exertions, as well as their sacr;!ii.es, in
behalf (.)f the cau^^e which they had embraced, even
already con.-,oletl him for the lo-> b.iih of ih.urch
and marise. A new jOace of wur-lii]) wn> soon
erected, and as fir a place of re-i'ience. this aKo
was f )un<l in one end of a cottage, which tlie tenant
re-igne'-l, for the occupati.in of the miiK-ter aiid iii-
family. It wa>, indeeil, a ditTereiit habitation fn.m
that beautiful nian^e which b.e ha.l -' .ir.!' : lud. and
the gardens i)f which he had -o ta-teu-.iiy I. ^i . ;-.t
and ]daiued. during a re-idince of f 'i:_\ y^ar-. b'.:t
the change was made in th.e iiaiv.e wi ll::;; v.!. 1 "Iki i
not where to lav hi> head."

The remainder of Dr. Di;!v,:;.'~ i.r -', after he
left the f;>tablidied Cluirdi. i;:.-y :e !-:..';y told.
It wa> tliat l..ng-eoi!!irnud -t iiv; -!" a'tiv.!). wi.iJi
had bec-nnethe'jiief eiei-nent <■■ \v~\'-:\\^:.. ^^ru-glii^g
a> bravelv a- ever a:;ai;>: r---x !■''-•. ^!e-. '.:: \ -\\x-

mountnig tlieni. o'.
frai;t:es '..f year^. il
all the more q-.iiek'
c-uld be but ."ae
iadin- f.ot.tei- w

J! wli:.h t!;e tr:al n

It wa-

5o6

JOHN DUNCAN MARK DUNCAN.

harmony with his character, that the summons call-
iii;j liim to enter into his rest should find him in the
midst of active duty, with his loins girt, and his lamp
burning. After a journey into England, chiefly con-
nected with the interests of the church and his own
flock, he resumed, at his return liome, the work of
clerical visitation, and for this purpose had repaired
to Cock pool, about two miles from Ruth well, to
presi<le at an evening prayer-meeting. In the course
of the religious services on this occasion he read a
te.xl of Scripture, and was employed in illustrating
it, when he was suddenly struck with paralysis, and
after a short illness died on the evening of the nth
of February, 1846, in the seventy-second year of his
age.

Dr. Duncan was twice married; his second wife
having been the widow of the Rev. Mr. Lundie, of
Kelso, to whom he was united in 1836. In men-
tioning the varied authorship of Dr. Duncan, we
omitted the work on which his literary reputation
will chiefly depend. This was I'hc Sacred Philosophy
of ilic Seasons^ in four volumes, written upon the
plan of the well-kno\\n work of Sturm, and furnish-
ing a paper for every day in the year. Of this work
several editions have already been published. But
the savings-banks will constitute Dr. Duncan's most
abiding monument, and will continue, throughout
the world at large, to be connected with his name as
their founder, when the best literary productions of
the present day have ceased to be remembered.

DUNCAN, John. Of all the enterprises of tra-
vel, none perhaps are so dangerous or difficult as the
exploration of that vast and mysterious terra incog-
nita, the interior of Africa, and none have been more
tempting to Scottish perseverance and intrepidity.
The names of 15ruce, Park, Clapperton, and others,
who either perished in the journey, or returned home
only to die after their expectations had been crushed
and their constitutions broken, will here occur to
the memory of the reader. One of this intrepid,
self-devote<l forlorn hope, was Mr. John Duncan.

This African traveller was born in huml:>le circum-
stances, being the son of a small farmer in Wigton-
shire; Init the ])recise date of his birth we have been
unable to ascertain. At an early period he enlisted
in the 1st regiment of life-guards, where he served
eighteen years with an excellent character, and was
rlischarged about the year 1S40 with the highest
te•^tim')nials of good conduct. After having leit the
army, he was attached as armourer to the unfortunate
expedition sent out to explore the Niger in 1842.
His olfice on this occasion was one peculiarly trying
under a vertical .African sun; for in all the treaties
made witli the native chiefs, he marched at the head
of the Kiigli^h ])arty, encumbered with the heavy
uniform of a lire-guard>man, and burning within
the polished ])lates (jf a tightly buckled cuirass. lie
was thus made an imposing pageant, to strike the
eyes of the astonished Africans, and impress them
with a full sense of the grandeur and military [lower
of Britain. But it was a delusive sliow; for in such
a climate all this glittering harness was an intolerable
burden, and tiie wearer would in reality have been
more f<jrmi<lable in the linen-rpiilted armour of the
soldiers f)f Cortez, or even in a tanned sheei>skiii.
He survived to return to lOngland with such of his
comjiani(jns as remained, but with a shatiered con-
stitution, and a frightful wound in his leg, under
whicli lie was long a sufferer.

After John Duncan had recovered from the effects
of such a journey, instead of l)eing daunted by the
toils and dangers he had so narrowly escaped, he
only felt a keener desire than ever to attempt new-

discoveries in the African interior. The excitement
of peril had become his chief pleasure, while the
do-or-die determination to resume his half-finished
adventure, and prosecute it to the close, must be
gratified at whatever price. It is of such stuff that
the hearts of our African travellers are composed,
and how seldom therefore are they satisfied with one
expedition, however dangerous it may have been?
Duncan announced his desire to Mr. Shillinglaw,
then librarian to the Geographical Society, and the
latter, delighted to find one so well qualified for such
a journey, introduced him to the council. The ar-
rangements were soon made, and in the summer of
1844 Duncan set off upon his pilgrimage, under the
auspices of the society, and liberally furnished with
everything that could minister to his comfort or faci-
litate his means of exploration. On reaching Africa,
his first attempt was to explore the kingdom of Da-
homey, the wealthiest and most civilized — or, per-
haps, we should say, the least savage — of all those
marvellous African realms which Europeans have
as yet reached; and of this country he traversed a
large portion, laying open sources of information
concerning it which had hitherto been inaccessible
to our travellers. But the sufferings he underwent
in this journey were excruciating, chiefly owing to
the old wound in his leg, that broke out afresh under
the burning climate that had first occasioned it; and
so serious at one time were his apprehensions of a
mortification supervening, that in the absence of all
medical aid, he had actually made preparations for
cutting off the limb with his own hand. Happily,
a favourable turn made such a desperate resource
unnecessary; but the mere resolution shows of what
sacrifices he was capable in the prosecution of his
purpose. On returning to Cape Coast, much impaired
in constitution, he resolved to start afresh on a new
journey to Timbuctoo, but continuing ill health ob-
liged him to forego his purpose, and return to Eng-
land.

Our admiration of Duncan's persevering intrepidity
is heightened by the fact, that he was neither a man
of science, nor even a tolerable scholar, his early
education having been both brief and defective; and
thus he was deprived of those sources of enthusiasm
which cheered onward such travellers as Bruce and
Park to the source of the Nile or the parent streams
of the Niger. But he had keen observation and
solid sound sense, by which he was enabled materially
to enrich our African geograi)hy, without the jiarade
of learning; and as such his commimications were
so justly ai3]>reciated, that after his return to Eng-
land, her majesty's government aj)])ointed him to
the office of British vice-consid at NVhydah, in the
kingdom of Dahomey. Nothing could be more
grateful to his feelings, for besides being an honour-
able attestation to his services in behalf of science
and humanity, the appointment furnished hin\ \\ilh
am]ile means for a third African exiiedition, in which
all his ])revious attempts as a traveller might be per-
fected. He set sail accordingly, in II. M.S. A'nig-
Jis/icr, but was not destined to reach the expected
])ort; for he sickened during the voyage, and died
when the vessel had reached the Bight of Benin, on
the 3d of November, 1849.

DUNCAN, Mark. It is a fact gratifying to our
national pride, that so great a nund)er of the learne<l
men in I'rance during the sixteenth and earlier ])art
of the seventeenth centuries were not natives (jf that
country, but .Sc(jtsmen. Scottish jirofessors were to
be found in all the universities and seminaries of
learning throughout that kingdom, and from them
a large portion of that impulse was derived under

MARK DUNCAN THOMAS DUNCAN.

507

which French learning and civilization grew and
flourished. It was thus that .Scottish students amply
repaid those continental universities in which their
learning was matured. It was there also that they
could enjoy that consideration and literary tran-
quillity which the ])overty, ignorance, and unsettled
state of their own country were unable to bestow.

.\mong these .Scottish benefactors and instructors
of France may be included .Mark Duncan. It has
been stated, but erroneously, that he was born in
London, and that his father was a native of \'ork-
shire. There is sufficient proof however from family
testimonials to show that he was a Scotsman, and
the son of Thomas Duncan of M.axpoftle, in the
county of Perth; and that both by father and mother
he was descemled from old and respectable .Scottish
families. In what year Mark Duncan was born we
are unable to ascertain, but it is supposed to have
been about or nigh 1570. Of his early history also
we have no positive information, and can only con-
clude, that, according to the custom of .Scottish stu-
dents at tliat period, he acquired the elements of
learning in his own country, and afterwards matured
his scholarship at some university on the Continent.
Through the patronage of Du I'lessis-Mornay, gover-
nor of the city of Saumur, and one of the most in-
fluential of the Protestant leaders, he was appointed
professor of philosophy in the university of Saumur,
at that time distinguished not only as a seminary of
the reformed doctrines in religion, but by the accom-
plished scholars who taught in it. In this chair
Mark Duncan obtained high reputation, and educated
several distinguished pupils, among whom w.as Jean
Daille, one of the most eminent theologians of the
seventeenth century. In this situation he also pub-
lished several learned works, the chief of which was
his Inslitutio Lo;^iLa, which extended his reputation
as an acute and .accurate logician. Of this work,
which is dedicated to Du Plessis-Mornay, at least
three e<litions are known to have been pubH.^hed;
and lUirgersdick, himself a distinguished writer and
teacher in the science of logic, declared that he had
derived more aid from it in compiling his Institutions
than from any other source. Put besides discharg-
ing the duties of his chair both .as a professor and
author, Duncan added to these tlie practice of physic,
in which his fame became so high, that James I.,
after his accession to the English throne, invited him
to settle in luigland; and to show the sincerity of
his wish, he sent to him a patent appointing him his
own physician. But Mark Duncan had married at
.Saumur a lady of good family, and on account of her
reluctance to leave her native country, relatives, and
friends, he was induced to remain in the country of his
adoption. Such w.as the esteem in which he was held
in Fr.iiice, and the emolument that must have (lowed
from his practice as a physician, that he doubtless
acted prudently even in refusing the aiipointment of
physician in onlinary to the King of Great Britain,
encumliered witli the court jealousies and changes
with which it was likely to l)e accomjianied.

( )ne of the most notable events in the life of M.irk
Duncan originated in the alleged ca>e of the devil-
p,A^^e»i'>n of the nuns of Loudun. I'rhain (Iran-
dier, curate and cani>n of Loudun, was so ]i(ipular as
a preac'.ier that the (."apuchins of the place resolved
to effect his ruin, and fir this ]iuri)ose trumped
up accusations against him suited to the sujiersti-
tions of the age. .\fter cliarging him witli several
flagrant acts of incontinence with women under his
spiritual guidance, from wliich lituvever. after >everal
strict examinations, he was cleared, liiey had recourse
to an accusation from which, on account of its very
absurditv, it was nut so easy to escape. He was

accused of having bewitched the Ursuline nuns of
Loudun, and these silly women, either tutored by the
Capuchins, or persuaded of the reality of the charge,
confirmed it by those frantic demonstrations which
were usually accejited as the tokens of .Satanic pos-
session, (jrandier was arrested in December, 1633,
and after long examination and trial, was in the fol-
lowing year condemne<l and committed to the flames.
In such a strange inquest l)uncan, along with other
physicians, had attended at the exorci>m^ of the nuns,
and being convinced that the whole affair was an
imposture devised for an unjust and cruel j)uq)Ose,
he wrote an anonymous tract detecting and exposing
the fraud. It was so daring an act against the in-
credulity of the age and the interests of a jtowerful
ecclesiastical order, that iiujuiries were certain to be
set on fool for the detection of the author; and as the
pamphlet was suspected to Ix; his production, he
would soon have experienced the vengeance of the
prosecutors, and suffered the same fate as (1 randier,
had he not been protected by Madame le Martshale
de Breze, who esteemed him as a jdiysician, antl
whose husband was governor of the province.

The year in which Mark Duncan died is supposed
to have been 1640, and so much had he been beloved
that his demise was followed by the regret of all
parties, whether Papist or Protestant. His literary
reputation did not rest on his acquirements in philo-
scjphy and medicine alone, as he was also well skilled
in divinity and mathematics. He had three sons and
three daughters, of wliich family his sons, according
to the custom of France, assumed territorial names,
although, in the words of Dr. Irving, "their only
territorial possessions were castles in the air. ' Of
these the eldest, Mark, who was named Cerisantes,
was a poet, soldier, and diplomatist, and distinguished
Ijy a life of varied adventures. In 1641 he was an
envoy to Constantinople; in 1645 he was resident
ambassador of Christina, Queen of Swe<len, at the
court of France; and finally, having renounced the
Protestant religion, he was sent by the French king
to watch the conduct of the Duke of Guise during
his expedition to Naples, and fell in an attack on
tiie .'Spaniards in 1648. The chief ]>oem of this
erratic genius was Ciunivn Gratitlatcriuvi in Xuf-tias
CaroU K. An.;, cmn Iloirictta MariH fJ.a ILnrici
II'. K. I'r. — a union from which all kind> ot li]e.>s:nL,s
were to accrue to the world at large, and a millen-
nium of universal peace to be established on earth.
It is needless to atld that, however beautiful tl:e
poetry, its j)redictions were sadly belied.

DUNCAN, Thomas. K.S.A., A.R.A. This

(li>lingui>hed portrait and historical painter was 1. 01:1
at Kinclaven, Perth>hirc, on the 24th fif May. 1:^07.
In early life his parents removed to Perth, and there
theeducalic:)nof the future artist was chietlycoi-.(!iKted.
.\s the tendency towards painting, like that of ].oetry
or mu>ic, is natural, not acfiuired. Thomas 1 'i-.n^an r.t
an early age gave distinct indicatiors i.i I;:-, lirv.re
walk in life, by drawing likene~se^ of h:-- }or,ri^- i.' -u-
panions. or such objects as stntck 1;'.- t.ir.c} ; and on
one occasion, wlien hiiii^ell a!;'i I;:- -i !;• "'i-:ellou s
had roolved to jierlonn the]Nay of ••Ro', KoC' in a
stal)le loft, he painted the \\ho';c . f \\v: -ccury that
was needed fu" the occasion. A- it ■.-- v.-i always
that these juvenile jireiilection^ fni.i !.;vo;;:- in tlie
eyes of prudent parent- aiv! -ii,-.p'.;a:^-. tl;c tatln-r
of Tlli>mas took the alarm, an.i ha-'er.e.l to retn-ve
his idle boy, as he rcckoi-cl hini. to n:i i-cr-t; a'io-i
that would uhiinately be n> ^re ] r l'i;;,l>le: an.i, with
this view, liouni! him a< a: pretrice to a ] r' \inc:.-l
Iaw\er: but m:..!i ;::xongcT:ia' .iru'igery oti!;.' t'o-'^-rvd
the teiv.lciicv \\h;c!i it wa-i nieatit: to cure, so 'C'cizX

5oS

THOMAS DUNCAN

WILLIAM DUNCAN.

when Thomas Duncan had finished his time of servi-
tude, there was less chance than ever of his becom-
ing a country lawyer. A painter he would be, and
liis Aither was obliged to consent to his choice by
allowing him to remove to Edinburgh, that he
might cultivate the profession for which nature had
designed him. He was so fortunate as to obtain
Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Allan for his pre-
ceptor. Under his guidance he not only rapidly
mastered the rules of art, and acquired artistic skill,
but soon outstripped his class-fellows in that most
difficult of all de()artments, the drawing of the human
figure. In 1S2S he became an exhibitor at the Scot-
tish Academy, and his first picture which brought him
into general notice was the "Milkmaid;" the "Braw
Wooer" soon followed, the Last being exhibited in
1S30; and these early productions were so highly ap-
jireciated, that although untler the usual age of those
who had hitherto held such important offices, he was
first appointed to be professor of colouring, and soon
afterwards he succeeded Sir W. Allan as chief direc-
tor of the Trustees' Academy. He was also elected a
member of the Royal Scottish Academy. From this
time onward his career was one of steady advancement,
and he speetlily gained for himself the position of one
of the most prominent artists in Scotland. Devoting
himself at first principally to portraiture, a depart-
ment in which he greatly excelled, he produced gsu^e
and historical jMctures from time to time. In 1831
he exhibited his "Lucy Ashton at the Mermaid's
Fountain," and "Jeanie Deans on her Journey to
London;" in 1834, "Cuddie Headrigg visiting Jenny
Dennison;" in 1S35, "(^)ueen Mary Signing her Ab-
dication;" in 1836, "Old Mortality," and "A Cove-
nanter;" in 1S37, "Anne Page inviting Master Slender
to Dinner" (now in the Scottish National Gallery), a
]iicture which obtained the enthusiastic approbation
of such men as Ettyand Landseer; and in 1838, "Isaac
of York visiting his Treasure Chest," and "The Lily
of St. Leonards."

Having thus won for liimself such high distinction,
Mr. Duncan was resolved that it should not be
merely local or temporary: he loved art for its own
sake, as well as for its emoluments, and longed to paint
for immortality rather than tlie easily-won celebrity
of the passing day. For this purpose he turned his
attention to the Royal .-Vcarlcmy, and sent thither,
in 1S40, his well-known jwinting of "Prince Charles
Ivlward and the Highlanders entering Edinburgh
after the Rat'.le of Prestonpans," a truly national
])roduction, the value of which was enhanced to the
])rcsent gcneraticjii of Scotchmen by tlie ])ortraits of
several eminent living characters whom he has in-
troduced into the scene. It was purchased by the
late Alexander Hill, ICsq., for ^500. In the London
exhibition he had a more formidable ordeal to pa^s
than the limited f)ne of Eilinl)urgh; but he trium-
])hantly went througli it, and the hi>torical painting of
the young .Scotti--h artist was s])oken of in terms of
the highest commendation. Tiiis he successfully fol-
lowed, in 1841, by his ]iicture of the "W'aefu' Heart,"
a scene from the Ijeautiful ballad of Aidil Robin (irav.
in which it is enough to say, that the concc]iti<iii of
the painter does not fall short of that fjf the ])oct; in
1842 by the ])icture of " Deerstalking;" and in I S43
by "Charles Edward asleeji after the P.attle of Cni-
loden, protected by Flora Macdonald," al-o ].ur-
chased t)y Alexander Hill, \i-<\., for /"400. Py this
time his reputation was so well cstablislicd, that, in
the same vear, he was elected an associate of llie
Roval Academy. In 1844 Mr. iHincan sent to tlie
exhil)ition his ideal painting of "Cujiid," and iiis
historical one f)f "The Martyrdom of John Prow ;i,
of Priesthill, in 16S5." These were his principal

productions, many of which are now widely known
through the medium of engravings; and to the list
might be added his admirable portraits of several
eminent .Scottish contemporaries, whose features he
has perpetuated with a felicity that has been univer-
sally acknowledged. But of these, we should espe-
cially mention his portraits of Professor Miller, Lord
Robertson, Dr. Gcjrdon, and Dr. Chalmers, and his
own )5ortrait, now the property of the Royal .Scottish
Academy; the last, one of the noblest modern por-
traits in existence.

Such was the artistic career of Thomas Duncan,
which was now to be brought to a premature close.
His constitution had always appeared a sound one,
giving promise of a long and healthy life; but an in-
ternal tumour had gradually been forming in his head,
near the optic nerves, which at last nearly reduced him
to a state of blindness. By skilful medical treatment
the malady was almost entirely removed, when it
fixed itself upon the brain, producing all the appear-
ances of brain-kver, under which he sank. His death
occurred on the 30th of April, 1845, at the age of
thirty-eight; and he was survived by a widow and six
children, who were not left unprovided. His re-
mains were followed to the place of interment by the
Royal Academicians ; by his venerable friends Dr.
Chalmers, Dr. Gordon, Professor Wilson, &c. ; and
by the \\hole of the pupils of the Edinburgh .School
of Art. A short time before his last illness he had
received an order from the Marcpiis of Breadalbane for
a picture, to commemorate the Queen's visit to Tay-
moulh, for wdiich he was to be paid ;^6oo. For this
picture he had prepared a finished sketch in oil colours,
and this, together with an unfinished sketch for a large
historical picture of "George Wishart, on the Day of
his Martyrdom, dispensing the .Sacrament in the Prison
of the Castle of .St. Andrews," appeared after his
decease in the Royal .Scottish Academy's exhibition
of the year 1846. To this brief sketch we can only
add the following summary of his character, as given
by a brother-artist and friend of Thomas Duncan: — •
"Had his life been prolonged, there is no question
he would have achieved a lofty position in historical
]:>ainting; nor must we omit to mention his portraits,
which were faithfully and skilfully rendered. As a
colourist, indeed, he had few superiors. As an in-
structor of his art he was kind, conciliatory, and
anxious for the improvement of his ]iuiiils; and in
every relation of domestic life he contrivetl to secure
the esteem and affection of all around him."

DUNCAN, Wii.i.iAM, a learned writer, was bom
at Aberdeen, in July, 1717. He was the son of
William Duncan, a tradesman in that city, and of
Eujihemia Kirkwood, the daughter of a lainier in
Haddingtonshire. He received the rudiments of his
education jiartly at thegranmiar-school of Aberdeen,
and ])arlly at a lioarding-schfiol at Foveran, kept by
a Mr. George Forbes. In 1733 Mr. Duncan entered
the Marischal College at Aberdeen, and api)lied
himself ]iarticularly to the study of Greek under
Dr. I'.laekwell. At the end of the usual course he
took the degree f)f M.A. His first design was to
become a clergyman ; but, after studying divinity for
two years, he aliandoned the intention, and, remov-
ing to London, became a writer for the press. 'Llie
greater ])art of his literary career was of that obscure
kind which rather su|)]>iies the wants of the day, than
stort-s up fame fir futurity. Translations from the
French were among his mental exertions, and he
was much beloved and resjiected l)y the other liter-
ary men rif his day, es]iecially those who \\-ere of the
same nation with himself, such as George Lewis
Scott and Dr. Armslronc.

DUNDASES OF ARNISTON.

509

The principal work of Mr. Duncan was his trans-
lation of select orations of Cicero, which is still a
book of standard excellence, and constantly used in
our schools. He contributed the department of
"Logic" to Mr. Dodsley's Modern Preceptor, which
appeared in 1748, and was one of the most useful
and popular books jjublished during the eighteenth
century. In 1752 appeared his last work, the trans-
lation of Civsar's Commentaries, which is decidedly
the best in our language. Duncan has in a great
measure caught the spirit of the Roman writer, and
has preserved his turn of phrase and expression as
far as the nature of our language would permit. In
this year Mr. Duncan received a royal appointment
to a philosophical chair in the Marischal College ;
and in 1753 commenced lecturing on natural and ex-
perimental philosophy. Before leaving London he
hatl engaged to furnish a bookseller with a new trans-
lation of Plutarch ; but his health proved inadecpiate
to the task. His constitution had been considerably
injured by the sedentary nature of his employments
in London, and he was now content to discharge the
ordinary duties of his chair. After a blameless life
he die<l (unmarried) May i, 1760, in the forty-third
year of his age. Mr. Duncan cannot so much be said
to have possessed genius, as good sense and taste ;
and his parts were rather solitl than shining. His
temper was social, his manners easy and agreeable,
and his conversation entertaining and often lively.
In his instructions as a professor he was diligent and
very accurate. His conduct was irreproachable, and
he was regular in his attendance on the various insti-
tutions of public worship. Soon after his settlement
in the Marischal College, he was admitted an elder
in the cliurch-session of Aberdeen, and continued
to officiate as such till his death.

DUNDASES OF Arntston. This f.imily holds
a very conspicuous place in the legal and political
history of .Scotland for a period extending almost to a
century ami a half; and to the biographical student
nothing can be more interesting than to trace the
meritetl elevation of the successive heads of the
family to the highest judicial appointments in the
country. The .Vrniiton family is sprung from that
of Dundas of Dundas, one of the most ancient in
Scotland. .Sir James Dundas, the first of Arniston,
who received the honour of knighthood from James
VI., and was governor of Berwick, was the third
son of ( ieorge Dundas of Dundas, the sixteenth in
descent from the Dunbars, Earls of March, a fiimily
which, according to .Sir James Dalrymplc.cau trace
its origin from tiie Saxon Kings of England. The
mother of Sir James Dundas was Catherine, daughter
of Lawrence, Lord Olijihant. Having premised this
m'.ich of the origin of the family, we proceed to give
sli'irt l)iographical notices of its most distinguished
meinbiT>.

DL'NDAS, Sir Jamk^, of .\rniston, eldest son of
the fir>t Sir James, l)y Mary, daughter of Cenrge
Hume of Wedderlnirn, hail the honour of knightliood
conferred on him by C harles I. .\fter receiving a
liberal education, he sjient a considerai»le time
abroad, visiting the jirincipal cuirts of Europe. On
his return he was cho>en one of the reiir'^sentatives
of thj county of Mid- Lothian in the .Sc')tti^h parlia-
ment, and during a ])eriod of great danger and
diUicahy lie maintained tlie character of a steady
patriot and a loyal sui)ject — an enemy alike to
slavish suli--erviency an 1 t) treasonalile turliulence.
He grcat'.v disapproved of tlie measures proposed
by Ch\rles L, at the in-tigation of I.au 1. f ^r estal)Iish-
ing Episcopacv in Scotland, and did n'>t think it
inconsistent with a sincere principle of I'n-.ilty to su!>

scril)e the national covenant, entered into for the pur-
pose of resisting that innovation.

After the Restoration, when the English judges
who had officiated in Scotland during the usurj)ation
were expelled, and the Court of Session re-estab-
lished. Sir James Dundas wa*;, in 1662, apjiointed
one of the judges, anri took his seat on the bench
under the title of Lord .\miston. His high character
and great natural abilities were thought sufficient to
counterbalance the disadvantage arising from the
want of a professional education, liut he held this
appointment only for a short time. For Charles
II. having been induced by the unsettled state of
Scotland to require that all persons holding office
should subscribeadeclaration importing that they held
it unlawful to enter into leagues or covenants, and
abjuring the " national and solemn league and cove-
nant," the judges of the Court of .Session were re-
quired to subscril)e this test under pain of deprivation
of office. The majority of them complied; but .Sir
James Dundas refused, unless he sh')uld \k allowed
to add, " in so far as such leagues might lead to deeds
of actual rebellion." Government, however, would
consent to no such qualification ; and Lord Amiston
was consequently dei)rived of his gown. The king
himself had proposed as an expedient for obviating
the scruples of the recusant judges, that they should
subscribe the test publicly, but should be permitted
to make a private declaration of the sense in which
they understood it. Most of them availed themselves
of this device, but Lord Arniston rejected it, making
the following manly answer to those of his friends who
urged him to comply — " I have repeatedly told you.
that in this aflair I have acted from conscience ; I
will never subscribe that declaration unless I am
allowed to qualify it ; and if my subscription \?, to be
public, I cannot be satisfied that the sako should be
latott." His seat on the bench was kejit vacant for
three years, in the hope apparently that he might
be prevailed on to yield to the solicitations which,
during that interval, were unceasingly, l)ut in vain,
addressed to him, not only by his friends and brother
judges, but by the king's ministers. He had retired
to his family seat of .\rniston, where he s]-)ent the re-
mainder of his life in the tranquil enjoyment of the
country, and in the cultivation of literature and the
society of his friends. He died in the year 1670,
antl was succeeded in his estates liy his eMe^t son
Robert, the subject of the immediately succeeding
notice.

DUXD.VS, RoKK.RT, of .\rniston, sonof Sirjames,
by Marion, daughter of Lord IJoyd, was bred to the
profession of the law, and for many years rejiresented
the county of Ivlinburgh in the Scottish parliament.
In the year 16S9, immediately after the Revoluti"ii.
he wa- raised to the bench of the Court of Session I'v
King \Villiam. and took the title of Lord .Xrr.i-to;;.
lie continued to fill that .-tation witli great h<'ii"ur

and integrity iluring the long jieric
years; and died in the year 1727.
Robert, by Margaret, daughter <A
of Steveuston,' t(j succeed him in 1'.
follow \\\- footsteps in the le^al pr. 1
DUND.NS, R.ir.KRT. ^^i' Xxw.^^
buri:h. third lord .if s.,;ssjon of ti-.e
1.

i of tliirtv- seven

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his

l-iircsulent, was l!.>rn on t]x-o;!i December.

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application to sf.v

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acquaintance wit!

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M'-

5IO

DUXDASES OF ARXISTON.

Faculty of Advocates in 1709, and in 1717, while the
country was recovering from the confusion occasioned
by the rebellion of 17 15, he was selected, on account
of his firmness and moderation, to fill the responsible
ofiice of solicitor-general for Scotland, which he did
with much aliility and forbearance. In 1720 he
was presented to the situation of lord-advocate; and
in 1722 was returned member to the British parlia-
ment for the county of Edinburgh. In parliament
he was distinguished by a vigilant attention to
Scottish affairs, and by that steady and patriotic re-
gard to the peculiar interests of his native country,
which has been all along one of the most remarkable
characteristics of his family. When .Sir Robert
Walpole and the Argyle party came into ])ower in
the year 1725, Mr. Dundas resigned his office, and
resumed his place as an ordinary barrister; soon after
which he was elected by his brethren dean of the
Faculty of Advocates; a dignity which confers the
highest rank at the bar, it being even at this day a
question whether, according to the etiquette of the
j)rofession, tlie dean is not entitled to take precedence
of the lord-advocate and the solicitor-general. In
1737 -Mr. Dundas was raised to the bench; when,
like his father and grandfather, he took the title of
Lord Arniston. He held the place of an ordinary
or puisne judge until the year 1748, when, on the
death of Lonl-president Forbes of Culloden, he was
raised to the president's chair, and continued to hold
that high office until his death. lie died in 1753,
in the sixty-eighth year of his age.

As a barrister Mr. Dundas was a powerful and
ingenious reasoner. To great quickness of appre-
hension he added uncommon solidity of judgment;
while, as a public speaker, he was ready, and occa-
sionally impressive without being declamatory. His
most celebrated display was made in 1728, at the trial
of Carnegie of Finhaven, indicted for the murder of the
Earl of Strathmore. Mr. Dundas, who was opposed
on that occasion to Duncan Forbes of Culloden,
tlien lord-advocate, conducted the defence with great
ability, and had the merit, not only of saving the
life of his client, but of establishing, or rather re-
storijt:^, the right of a jury in Scotland to return a
general verdict on the guilt or innocence of the
accused. An abuse, originating in bad times, had
crept in, whereby the province of the jury was
limited to a verdict of finding the facts charged
proven, or not proven, leaving it to the court to
determine by a preliminary judgment on the re-
levancy, whether those facts, if proved, constituted
the crime laid in the indictment. In this particular
ca-.e tile fact was, that the Ivarl of Strathmore had
been accidentally run through tlie body, and killed, in
a drunken squabble; the blow having been aimed at
another "f the party, wlio had given great ])rovoca-
tion. The court, in their ])reliminary judgment on
the relevancy, found that the facts, as set forth in
the indictment, if proved, v.ere sufficient t(j infer the
'^pains of /i/?;'," — or, in other words, that they
amounted to nmrJer; —mv\ therefore they allowtnl
the public prosecutor to jirove his case hefire the
jury, and the accused to adduce a ])roof in exculpa-
tion. Had the jury confined themselves to the lucic
question whether or not the facl-> staled in the in-
dictment were /r(?7tt/, the life of .Mr. Carnegie would
have been foifeited. J>ut .Mr. Dundas, with great
acutene.TS and intreiiidity, cx])nsed and denounced
this encroachment on the ])rivileges of the jury, 1
which he traced to the despotic reigns of Charles II.
and his brother [ames II.; and succeeded in obtain-
ing a verdict of not guilty. Since that trial, no |
similar attempt has been made to interfere with 1
juries. The trial, which is in other respects interest- |

ing, will be found reported in Arnot's Collection of
Celebrated Criminal 7rials; and in preparing that
report, it appears that Mr. Amot was favoured, by
the second Lord-president Dundas, with his recol-
lections, from memory, of what his father had said,
together with the short notes from which Mr. Dundas
himself spoke. These notes prove, that, in preparing
himself, he merely jotted down, in a few sentences,
the heads of his argument, trusting to his extem-
poraneous eloquence for the illustrations.

In his judicial capacity Lord Arniston was dis-
tinguished no less by the vigour of his mind and his
knowledge of the law, than by his strict honour and
inflexible integrity. It has been said of him, that
his deportment on the bench was forbidding and dis-
agreeable; but although far from being affable or
prepossessing in his manners, he was much liked by
those who enjoyed his friendship ; and was remarkable
throughout his life for a convivial turn approaching
occasionally to dissipation. Some allowance, how-
ever, must be .iiade for the manners of the time, and
for the great latitude in their social enjoyments,
which it was the fashion of the Edinburgh lawyers
of the last century to allow themselves. It is to be
regretted that Lord Arniston was not raised to the
president's chair earlier in life. He succeeded Lord-
president Forbes, one of the most illustrious and
eminent men who ever held that place; and it is not
therefore very wonderful, that, far advanced in life
as President Dundas ^\■as, he should not have been
able to discharge the duties of his important office
with all the dignity and energy of his highly-gifted
predecessor.

Lord Arniston was twice married; first, to Eliza-
beth, daughter of Robert Watson of Muirhouse, by
whom he left Robert, afterwards lord-president of the
Court of Session, and two daughters; and secondly,
to x\nne, daughter of Sir Robert Gordon of Inver-
gordon, Bart., by whom he left four sons and one
daughter. One of the sons of this second marriage
was Henry, afterwards raised to the j^eerage under
the title of Lord Viscount Melville.

DUNDAS, ROBiiRT, of Arniston, lord-]iresident
of the Court of Session, the eldest son of the first Lord-
president Dundas, by I'_^Iizabeth, daughter of Robert
Watson of Muirhouse, was born on the 1 8th of July,
1713. When at school and at college he was a good
scholar, but afterwards was never known to read
through a book, and seldom even to look into one,
unless from curiosity, when he hapjiened to be ac-
quainted witli the author. It was the custom at the
period when the subject of this memoir receive<l his
education for .Scottish gentlemen, intended for the
higher walks of the legal jirofession, to study the
Roman law at the schools on the Continent, where
that law was then taught with much celebrity.
\'oung Dundas, therefore, after acquiring the ele-
mentary branches of his education under tlie care cjf
a domestic tutor, and at the schools and university
of Edinburgh, jjroceeded to Utrecht towards the
clo^e of the }ear 1733, in order to prosecute his legal
studies at that famous university. He remained
aliroail during four years, spending his academical
\acalions in visiting Paris and several of the jiriii-
cipal towns ami cities in !•' ranee and the Low
Countries.

He returned to Scotland in the year 1737, and in
the yt'ar foll')wing became a member of the Faculty
of Advocates. His first ]iublic a]i]icarances sidfi-
cieiitly proved that he had inherited the g'enius and
abilities of his family: his elocpience was copi(_nis and
animated; his arguments convincing and ingenious,
while even his most un])remeditated ])leadings were
distinguished by their methodical arrangement. In

DUN'DASES OF ARNISTOX.

5"

consultation his opinions were marked by sound judg-
ment and great acutencss, while his tenacious memory
enabled him with facility and readiness to cite prece-
dents and authorities. Although endowed by nature
with very considerable talents for public speaking,
yet he not only neglected the study of composition,
but contemned the art of elocution. In his pleadings,
however, as well as in his conversation, he displayed
a great deal of fancy and invention, which the strength
and soundness of his judgment enabled him to re-
strain witiiin due bounds. In spite of his want of
ai)pIication, and a strong propensity to pleasure and
dissipation, he rose rapiilly into practice at the bar.
liut from tlie course which he adopted it seems to
have been his intention, without rendering himself a
slave to business, to attain such a higii place in his
profession as should entitle him to early promotion.
Acting on this ])rinciple he usually declined, except
in very important cases, to prepare those written
pleadings and arguments whicli at that time, and
until lately, were so well known in the Court of
Session. The labour attentling this part of his pro-
fessional duty he felt to be irksome. For the same
reason he was accustomed to return many of the
briefs which were sent to him, confining his practice
to noted cases, or such as excited general interest.
In thismanner, without undergoing tlie usual drudgery
of the bar, lie acfjuired a degree of celebrity and dis-
tinction, which o]>ened to him, at a period remark-
ably early in his career, the highest honours of his
profession. In Sejitember, 1742, when he liad just
entered his twenty-ninth year, he was appointed
solicitor-general for Scotland, lie had obtained this
a])pointment under tlie Carteret administration, and
therefore, in 1746, when the I'elham party gained
the ascendency, he resigned this office along with
the ministry; but in the same year (as had happened
to his father under similar circumstances) he was
honoured by one of the strongest marks of admirati(in
which his l^rethren at the bar could confer, having
been, at the early age of thirty-three, elected dean of
tlic Faculty of Advocates, which office he continued
to hold until the year 1760, when he was elevated to
the bench.

In the beginning of tlie year 1754 Mr. Dundas
was returned to parliament as meml)cr for the county
of Edinburgli, an<l in the following sunmier he was
ajipointed lord-advocate for Scotland. iJuring tlie
rancorous contention of parties which at that time
divided the country, it was scarcely possible to escajie
oblo(]uy, and Mr. Dundas shared in the odium cast
upon the rest of his party by the opposition; but it
may be truly alVirmed of him, that in no instance did
he swerve from his princijiles, or countenance a mea-
sure which he did not believe to be conducive to the
general welfare of the country. I le suffered much in
theopiiiioiiiil a numerous party in Scotland on account
of his strenuous opposition to the embodying of the
militia in that part of the kingdom. The alarm of
invasion from France, occasioned by the small expe-
ditions wliicli sometimes threatened our coasts, had
led to numerous meetings throughout the coun'rv to
])elition parlianu'iit in lavour of the establishment of
a militia firce f >r the defence of ."^cotland. Tliere
were cogent reasons, however, wliy these petitions
siiould not be acee led to. The country was still in
a very unimproveii condition; agriculture neglected,
and manufactures in their infancy, while the inhabi-
tants were as yet but little accustomed to the tram-
melsof patient indu-try. In--uch circuni-tances, to jmt
arms into their hani^ had a tendency to revive that
martial spirit whicli it was the great object of govern-
ment to rcpre-s. The emb idving of tlie militia was
farther objectior.aLle, ir.a^-.nuch a? tiie di>atTected par-

tisans of the Stuart family, altliough sulxlucd, were by
no means reconciieil to the family of Hanover; and,
therefore, to arm the militia would have been in effect
so far to counteract tlie wise measure of disarming the
Highlanders, which had proved s<j efficacious in tran-
quillizing the northern districts of the kingdom. Mr.
Dundas's oppcjsition to the proposal for emI>odying
a militia in Scotland was thus founded on grounds
of obvious expediency, any risk of fcjreign inva-
sion being more tlian counterbalanced by the .still
greater evil of a domestic force fin which govern-
ment could not implicitly rely, and which might
by possibility have joined rather than oiipo^ed the
invaders. The lesson taught by the rebellion in
Ireland in 1797 has since illustrated the danger of
tnisting arms in the hands of the turbulent and
disaffected, and has fully established the wisdom of
Mr. Dundas's opposition to a similar measure in
Scotland.

On the 14th of June, 1760, Mr. Dundas was ap-
pointed lord-president of the Court of Session — the
highest judicial office in Scotland. When he re-
ceived this appointment some doubts were entertained
how far, notwithstanding his acknowledged and great
abilities, he possessed that jiower of a]i])lication, and
that measure of assiduity, which are the first re'iui>itcs
for the due discharge of the duties of the high office
he filled. Fond of social intercourse, and having
risen to eminence as a lawyer by the almost unas-
sisted strength of his natural talents, he had Idtherto
submitted with reluctance to the labour of his profes-
sion. But it speedily became evident that one strik-
ing feature in hischaracterhad remained undeveloped;
for he had no sooner taken his seat as presitlent than
he devoted himself to the duties of his office v.ith an
ardour which had been rarely exhiliited by the able-t
and most diligent of his predecessors, and with a per-
severance which continued unabated until his death.
So unwearied and anxious was his apj'lication to the
Inisiness of the court, that he succeeded in disponing
of an arrear of cau>es which had accumulated during
a j-ieriod of five sessions. This task he accomi:)li.--lKd
in the course of the summer se>>ii'n of 1700, and
that without interrupting or iivipeding the current
bu-iness of the court; and while lie j re.-ided, no
similar arrear ever occurreil.

President Dundas was di>liiigui~lied i'V great
dignity aiul urbanity. In deliverir.g lii> o]>ii.:i'ii> on
the bench, he was calm and senat'irial: av'.i'iing th.e
error hno which the judges in Scotland are too ai't
to fall, namely tliat of expressing themselves wall
the imjiatieiice and vehemence <>{ deliaters eager to
sup]iort a jiarticular side, or to convir.ce 'T refute
their oiijionents in an argument. In;] re--ed with a
conviction that such ast}le is ill suite'l lor thi. beiich..
I'resident Dundas confined hini>eii to a c.-;Im ai.d
dispassionate suniinary (if the leading lact- ot li.e
case, followed by an announceniert. in !"!\;:!e !•.■.!
unadorned language, of tlie legal prir.c:; '.■■ \\li:<.:i
ought, in his apjirehcnsion. ti> rule the ..■ c;--.' n.
To the bar he conductc! hiin-e'.f v. lili v.i.i:" iir, atten-
tion and re-pect, a demean.'. r,r < :i t'le j-w; ct ti.e
bench to which, in former itme-. ;!:e >>' fi-h 1 ar
was but I'tlle accustomed; aii'i even at th.^ .'..\y. the
dejiortment of the Scottish jttig^s t-' tite c i;i>c;
]iractising bef're them is aiit {•< -■:.:-]'r:~v ■;.■ -c v. l-.o
liave had opp ort-.tnities >•] i : s-,: \ rg tl.e (■urtc-y
by l!;e Fn:^;:-h jud-es m tlie:r
:<.v:. I'rcs: iei.t 1 ';::.'■.> iistene i

unitormly dis;. aye^
intercourse with th
with ]>atience to t':;,
anticipated the ar.
rutted him v\itli ■;

ler

!hs

. ttLti^c ci-'in-

512

DUXDASES OF ARNISTON.

mitted against the dignity of the court. In this last
particular he was suthciently punctilious, visiting the
slightest symptom of disrespect to the bench with the
severest animadversion. While he was thus constant
in his anxiety to improve the administration of justice,
and to insure due respect for his own court, he was
scrupulously attentive in reviewing the decisions, and
watciiful in the superintendence of the conduct of
the inferior judges. He also treated with the greatest
rigour every instance of malversation or chicanery in
the officers or inferior practitioners in the courts.
No calumnious or iniquitous prosecution, and no at-
tempt to pervert the forms of law to the purposes of
oppression, eluded his penetration, or escaped his
marked reprehension.

A disregard or contempt for literary attainments
has been brought as a charge against President
Dundas; and a similar charge was, with less justice,
afterwards made against his celebrated brother, Lord
Melville. This peculiarity was the more remarkable
in the president, because in early life he had ])rose-
cuted those studies which are usually termed literary,
^\•ith advantage and success. In his youth he had
made great proficiency in classical learning; and as
his memory retained faithfully whatever he had once
acquired, it was not unusual with him, even towards
the close of his life, in his speeches from the bench,
to cite and ajiply, with much propriety, the most
striking jjassages of the ancient authors.

Having attained the advanced age of seventy-five
years, President Dundas was seized with a severe
and mortal illness, which, although of short con-
tinuance, was violent in its nature; and he died at his
house in Adam Square, Edinburgh, on the 13th of
December, 1787, having borne his sufferings with
great magnanimity. He retained the perfect enjoy-
ment of his faculties until his death, and was in the
active discharge of his official duties down till the
date of his last illness. He was interred in the
family burial-place at Borthwick. The body was
attended to the outskirts of the city by a procession
consi--ting of all the public bodies in their robes and
insignia.

President Dundas was twice married ; first to
Henrietta, daughter of Sir James Carmichael Paillie
of Laminglon, 15art. , by whom he left four daughters;
and secondly, 7th .September, 1756, at Prestongrange,
to Jane, daughter of William Grant of Prestongrange
- — an excellent man and good lawyer, who rose to
the bench under the title of Lord Prestongrange.
Py his second lady he left four sons and two daugli-
ters, of whom Robert, the eldest son, was succes-
sively lord-advocate and lord chief-baron of the Court
of I.xcliequer in Scotland.

DUND.VS, RoiiF.RT, of .\rniston, lord chief-baron
of the Court f)f Lxchetpier, eldest son of the secon<l
Lord-president Dundas, l)y Miss (irant, youngest
daughter of William (jrant, Lord Prestongrange, was
born on the 6lh of June, 175S. Like his distinguished
jiredeeessors, he was educated f)r the legal profes-
sion, and became a member of the laculty of .Advo-
cates in the year 1779. When .Mr. (aflt'rwards Sir
Hay) Campbell was promoteil to the office of lord-
adv'jcate, .Mr. Dundas, at a very early age, succeeded
him as solicitor-general; and afterwards, in 1789, on
Sir Hay's elevation to the ])resident's chair, .Mr.
Dunlas, at the age of thirty-one, was appointed lor<l-
advocate. This office he held for twelve year-, (hir-
ing wiiich time he sat in parliament as member f >r
tile county of Ivlinburgh: and on the resignation of
Chief-baron .Montgomery in the year 1801, he was
appointed his successor. Mr. Dundas sat as cliief-
baion until witliin a short time of his death, which
happened at .Vrniston on the 17th of June, 1819, in

the sixty-second year of his age. He had previously
resigned his office, and it happened that Sir Samuel
She])herd, who succeeded him, took his seat on the
bench on the day on which Mr. Dundas died.

Without those striking and more brilliant talents
for which his father and grandfather were distin-
guished", Chief-baron Dundas, in addition to excellent
abilities, possessed, in an eminent degree, the graces
of mildness, moderation, and affability, and descended
to the grave, it is believed, more universally loved
and lamented than any preceding member of his
family. This is the more remarkable, when it is
borne in mind that he held the responsible office of
lord-advocate during a period of unexampled diffi-
culty and of great political excitement and asperity.
His popularity, however, was not attributable to any
want of firmness and resolution in the discharge of
his public duties, but arose in a great measure from
his liberal toleration for difference in political opinion,
at a time when that virtue was rare in .Scotland, and
from his mild and gentleman-like deportment, which
was calculated no less to disarm his political op-
ponents than to endear him to his friends. It
would have been impossible, perhaps, for any one of
his professional contemporaries to have been the im-
mediate agent of government in the trials of Muir,
Skirving, and Palmer, without creating infinite pub-
lic odium.

As chief-baron, Mr. Dundas was no less estimable.
The Scottish Court of Exchequer never opened a very
extensive field for the disjilay of judicial talent; but
wherever, in the administration of the business of
that court, it appeared that the offender had erred
from ignorance, or from misapprehension of the
revenue statutes, we found the chief-baron disposed
to mitigate the rigour of the law, and to interpose
his good offices on behalf of the sufferer. It was in
private life, however, and within the circle of his
own family and friends, that the virtues of this ex-
cellent man were chiefly conspicuous, and that his
loss was most severely felt. Of him it may be said,
as was emphatically said of one of his brethren on
the bench — "he died, leaving no good man his
enemy, and attended with that sincere regret, which
only those can hope for who have occu])ied the like
important stations, and acquitted tlieniselves so
well."

DUXDAS, Gf.ner.m, Sir David, was born near
Edinburgh about the year 1735. His father, who
was a respectable merchant in Edinburgh, was of the
family of Dundas of Dundas, the head of the name
in Scotland; 1)y the mother's side he was related to
the first Lord Melville. This distinguished member
of a great family had commenced the study of medi-
cine, but changing his intentions, he entered the
army in the year 1752, under the aus])ices of his
uncle, Cicneral David \\'atson. This al)]e officer had
been ajijiointed to make a survey of the Highlands
of Scotland, and he was engaged in j)lanning and
ins]X'Cting the military roads through that j^art of the
country. While engaged in this anhunis under-
taking, he ch(jse voung Dundas, and the celebrated
(ieneral Roy, afterwards quarter-niaster-general in
Great Jiritain, to be his assistants. To this appoint-
ment was added that (;f a lieutenancy in the engineers,
of which his uncle was at that time senior captain,
lu^ldiiig the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the army.

In tile year 1 759 Dundas obtained a troo]i in tlie
regiment (jf light horse raised by Colonel I'^liot, and
with that gallant corps he embarked for Germany,
where he acted as aide-de-cani]) to Colonel J'.liiot.
In that capacity he afterwards accompanied (ieiieral
I-dliot in the ex])edition sent out in the year 1762,
under the command of the Earl of Albemarle, against

DUNDASES OF AKNISTON.

5'3

the Spanish colonics in the West Indies. On the
28th -May, 1770, he was promoted to the majority
of the 15th dragoons, and from that corps he was
removed to the 2d regiment of horse on the Irish
establishment, of which he obtained the lieutenant-
colonelcy.

It was to the ministerial influence of General
Watson that Colonel Dundas owed his rapid pro-
motion ; and he now obtained, through the same
interest, a staff appointment as quarter- master gen-
eral in Ireland. He was also allowed to sell his
commission in the dragoons, and at the same time
to retain his rank in the army. lie afterwards
exchanged his appointment for that of adjutant-
gL-ncral, and in 1781 he was promoted to the rank
of colonel.

Shortly after the peace of 1783, Frederick, King
of Prussia, having ordered a grand review of the
whole forces of his kingdom, the attention of military
men throughout Europe was attracted to a scene so
splendid. Amongst others Colonel Dundas, having
obtained leave of absence, repaired to the plains of
Potsdam, and by observation and reflection on what
he there saw, he laid the foundation of that perfect
knowledge of military tactics which he afterwards
published under the title of Principles of Military
Min'emeiils, chiejly applicable to Infantry.

In the year 1790 Colonel Dundas was promoted
to the rank of major-general, and in the following
year he was appointed colonel of the 22d regiment
of infantry, on which he resigned the adjutant-gen-
eralship of Ireland.

Previous to the publication of General Dundas'
work on military tactics, the military man'cuvres of
the army were regulated by each succeetling com-
mander-in-chief; while even the manual exercise of
the soldier varied with the fancy of the commanding
olTicer of the regiment. The disadvantages attending
so irregular a system is obvious ; for when two regi-
ments were brought into the same garrison or camp,
they could not act together until a temporary' uni-
formity of exercise had been established. To remedy
these defects in our tactics, his m.-ijesty George III.,
to whom (ieneral Dundas' work was detiicated,
ordered regidations to be drawn up from his bijok,
for the use of the army, and accordingly, in June,
1792, a system was promulgated, under the title of
*'• Kulis and /\es;ulations f>r t/ie Formations, Field-
exercises, and Movements of his Majesty's Forces; with
an injunction that the system should be strictly fol-
lowed and adhered to, without any deviation whatso-
ever: and such orders as are formed to interfere with,
or counteract their effects or o]ieration, are con-
sidered hereby cancelled and annulled." I'/w A'nles
and Ne^tilations for the Cavalry were also planned
by (leneral Dundas. It is therefore to him that we
are indclued for tlie first and most important steps
which were taken to bring the liritish army to that
high >tate of discipline which now renders it one
of the most ctTicient armies in luirope.

At the commencement of the war with France,
Genjral Dundas was put on the staff, and in autumn
1793 lie was sent out to command a body of troops
at TduIoii. While on this service he was sclecteil
t() lead a force ordered to dislodge the French from
the heights of .Vrencs, which connnanded the town;
and although he >ucceeded in driving the enemy
from their batteries, jtill the French were too strong
for the nundier <if British employed in the service,
and he was ultimately driven back; and Toulon
being consequently deemetl untenable, Lunl Hood
judged it prudent to emliark the troops and sail for
Corsica. .Soon after tlie expedition had elTected a
landing in that island, some misunder^tanding liav- [

VOL. I.

ing arisen between General Dundas and Admiral
Hood, the former returned home.

General Dundas immediately returned to the Con-
tinent, and served under the Duke of York in Hol-
land; and in the brilliant action of the loth of May,
1794, at Tournay, he greatly distinguished himself.
During the unfortunate retreat of the liritish army,
which ended in the evacuation of the Dutch territor)',
General Dundas acted with much skill and great
gallantry, and on the return of General Harcourt to
England, the command of the Hritish army devolved
upon him. Having wintered in the neighbourhootl
of Bremen, he embarked the remnant of the Hritisli
forces on board the fleet on the 14th of April, 1795,
and returned home.

In December, 1795, General Dundas was removed
from the command of the 22d foot to that of the 7th
dragoons. He was also apjiointed governor of
Languard-fort, and on the resignation of General
Morrison he was nominated quarter-master general
of the British army.

In the expedition to Holland in the year 1799,
General Dundas was one of the general officers se-
lected by the commander-in-chief; and he had his
full share in the actions of that unfortunate cam-
paign. On the death of Sir Raljih Abercromby,
General Dundas succeeded him in the command of
the 2d North British dragoons, and also in the
government of Forts George and Augustus. In the
summer of 1801 he was second in command of the
fine army of 25,000 men which assembled in Bagshot
Heath; and made uncommon exertions to bring it to
the high state of discipline which it displayed on the
day it was reviewed before his majesty George III.
and the royal family.

On the 1 2th of March, 1S03, he resigned the
quarter-master generalshij), and was put on the staff
as second in command under th.e Duke of 'S'ork,
when his majesty invested him with the ril^and of the
order of the liath. In the year 1804 he was ap-
pointed governor of Chelsea Hospital, and on tlie
1st June of that year, he, along with many olliers.
was installed as a knight of the Bath in Henry N'll.'s
Chapel. On the iSth of March, 1S09, he succeeded
the Duke of ^'ork as commander-in-chief of the
forces, which high ajipointment he held for two
years. He was made a member of the ]>rivy-council
and colonel of the 95lh regiment. The last of the
many marks of royal fav(jur conferred on him w.-s
the colonelcy of the 1st dragoon guards.

Cieneral Dundas died on the iSth of Febniary,
1S20, and was succeeded in his estates by hi>
nephew, Sir Robert Dundas of Beechwood, Bart.

DUND.VS, Tin; Ruiht H«»N(iiR.\iii.E Hinkv.
Viscount Melville and liaron 1 )unira. was born in tlie
year 1741. He wa^ the son of the first and brother
to the second Robert Dundas of .\rniston, each <t
whom held the high office of lord-]ire>ident oi the
Court of Session. His father's faiiiiiy. a-- has beei.
mentioned in the notice of .^ir Janus I>;;i!(i.i> (■:
Arniston, derived their origin fmm tlie \ery ai.cier.t
fiimily of Dundas of Dundas; h:> nMilier %\a- tiie
daughter of Sir Robert Gordon (f liiverg"pi.'ii.
Bart. After receiving the preliminary iT.-r.clies . f
education at the higli-schoul and un:vei.-i-,y d K^iir.-
burgh, and having gone tb.rou^h the u-ual c i:r-e
of fegal study, Mr". i)un.i,i^ wa.> a.'.iv.i'.tcd a nien-.l^er
of the Faculty df .Vdvdcates '.w the year 1703. It is
related of him tl;at afier li'.y;;-.; tile ex: e;i-es >'\ h:-
education and hi> adnii--i"r. ti> th.e facility, he liad
just sixty poumls of li:- jatriir.ny remaining. He
commenced his lir.'fc^Monal career in eliandier-^
situated at the head nf the Flohniarkei (L-e i.t'
Edinburgh; and luJi v. as tiie ir.'.-derate ace >mm'j-

33

514

DUNDASES OF ARNISTON.

elation of Scottish la^^•^•ers in those days, that his
rooms did not even front the High Street. The
meanness of his apartments, however, is to be at-
tributed rather to the habits of the times, and the
state of Edinburgh, than to pecuniary obstacles, or
to any distrust of success; for the member of a family
so well connected in the country, and so highly dis-
tinguished in the courts before which Mr. Dundas
proposed to practise, enjoyed every advantage which
a young lawyer could have desired as an introduction
to his profession. In Mr. Dundas these recommen-
dations were happily combined with great talents and
persevering application to business; so that, although
he did not resist the temptations to gaiety and dissi-
pation which beset him, he on no occasion allowed
the pursuit of pleasure or amusement to interfere
with the due discharge of his professional duties.
Nor did he lose any opportunity which presented
itself of cultivating his oratorical powers. SVith that
view he early availed himself of the opening afforded
for that species of display, in the annual sittnigs of
the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland.
As a lay member of that venerable body, Mr. Dundas
gave a foretaste of that manly eloquence and address
wliich in after-life rendered him the able coadjutor
of Mr. Pitt in the management of the House of
Commons during a period of unexampled difficulty.

The first official appointment which Mr. Dundas
held, was that of one of the assessors to the magis-
trates of the city of Edinburgh. He was afterwards
depute-advocate, that is, one of the three or four
barristers who, by delegation from the lord-advocate,
prej)are indictments, attend criminal trials both in
Edinburgh and on the circuits of the High Court of
Justiciary, and in general discharge, under the lord-
advocate, his function of public prosecutor. The
office of solicitor-general for Scotland was the next
step in Mr. Dundas' promotion; and with regard to
this part of his career it is sufficient to observe, that
his sound judgment, sagacity, and prompt discern-
ment as a lawyer, obtained for his pleadings the
respect and attention of the ablest judges on the
bench (no small jjraise, considering the manner in
which the bench of the Court of Session was at that
time occupied), and held out to him the certainty of
the highest honours of the profession in Scotland,
had he limited his ambition to that object.

We have now reached a stage of Mr. Dundas' life,
at which he may be almost said to have taken leave
uf the Scottish bar and of law as a profession, and
to have entered on a scene where objects of still
higher ambition presented themselves. In 1774 he
stood candidate for the county of Edinburgh in the
general election of that year, and was returned in
opi^osition to the ministerial influence. But he soon
joined the party then in ]i(nver, and became a strenu-
ous sup])orter of Lord North's administration. He
frequently sj>oke in the House of Commons, and
notwithstanding the disadvantages of an ungraceful
manner and a provincial accent, lie was always
listened to with attention, on account of tiie clear-
ness of his statements and the weight of his argu-
ments. As a reward f;r his services, he was, in
1775, ap])ointed lord-advocate f)f .Scotland, on the
elevation of .Sir James Montgomery to the office of
lord chief-baron; and in 1777 he ol)tained tlie sine-
cure a])pointment of keeper of tlie king's signet f jr
Sotland.

The lord-advocate holds tlie highest political
office in .Scotland, and is always exiiected to have a
seat in parliament, where he discliargcs something
reseml)ling the duties of secretary of state for that
quarter of the kingdom. And Mr. Dundas, from
the time of his obtaining this appointment, appears

to have devoted his chief attention to public business
and party politics. The contentions among political
parties ran very high towards the close of Lord
North's administration ; but, supported by the king,
that nobleman was long enabled to hold out against
the unpopularity occasioned by the disastrous pro-
gress of the American war, aggravated by the eloquent
invectives of an opposition perhaps the most talented
'which any British ministry ever encountered. The
result of the unfortunate campaign of 1781, however,
compelled Lord North to resign. Mr. Dundas had
supported his administration ; but at the same time,
by maintaining a cautious forbearance during this
arduous struggle for power, he ingratiated himself
with all parties.

\Vhen the fall of Lord North's administration
became certain, Mr. Dundas' knowledge of public
business, and his intimate acquaintance with the
state of the nation, rendered him a most valuable
accession to the new administration. He held no
office, however, except that of lord-advocate, under
the Rockingham ministry ; but the dissensions in the
cabinet which followed the death of Lord Rocking-
ham, and the promotion of Lord Shelburne to the
premiership, made way for Mr. Dundas, who in
1782 was appointed treasurer of the navy. The
administration under which he thus accepted office
was however speedily displaced by the celebrated
coalition administration ; on the formation of which
Mr. Dundas resigned, and became the able coadjutor
of Mr. Pitt in his opposition to the measures pro-
posed by Mr. Fox and Lord North. At that time
public attention was turned very much to India, in
the hope apparently that in that quarter of the globe
the country might find something to counterbalance
the loss of our American colonies. The complaints
of misgovernment in India were very loud. The
British conquests in that country were at the same
time rapidly extending ; and at last the dissensions
in the supreme council of Bengal rendered it ne-
cessary to bring the subject before parliament. In
April, 1782, on the motion of Lord North, a secret
committee was appointed to inquire into the causes
of the war in India, and the unfavourable state of the
Company's affairs. Of this committee Mr. Dundas
(who had previously rendered himself remarkable in
parliament for his intimate acquaintance witli the
affairs of India) was apjiointed chairman. His re-
ports, extending to several folio volumes, were drawn
up with great ability and precision, and contained a
mass of authentic and important information con-
cerning the transactions of the Comjiany and their
servants, botli at home and aljroad, of the very high-
est value. These rejsorts Mr. Dundas followed uj)
l)y a " ])ill for the better regulation and government
of tlie British jiossessions in India, and for the pre-
servation and security tliereof" But the ministry
having intimated tiieir intention to oppose this mea-
sure, and to introduce one of tlieirown, Mr. Dundas
did not attempt to carry it through the house ; and
in Noveml)er, 17S3, tlie ministerial jiledge was re-
deemed by the introduction of Mr. Fox's famous East
India bill.

It is foreign to the purpose of the present memoir
to in(juire into the merits or demerits of this cele-
brated bill. It met, as is well known, the uncom-
jironiising op])osition of Mr. Pitt and Mr. Dundas.
Nevertheless it passed the House of Commons by
large m.ijorities, and would also have been carried
through the House of Lords, but for the firnniess of
the king, which led, of course, to tlie resignation of
Lord North and Mr. Fox ; when Mr. Pitt was called
to the helm of affairs. On first taking office this
great statesman had to contend against a majority of

DUNDASES OF ARNISTOX.

515

the House of Commons, and in this arduous struggle
he was most powerfully aided by Mr. Dundas, who led
the ministerial party in the House of Commons dur-
ing the temporary absence of Mr. Pitt prior to his re-
election, after his acceptance of the chancellorship of
the exchequer. This extraordinary contest between
the ministers and parliament was terminated by the
general election of 1784. In the new parliament Mr.
Pitt had a decided majority ; and very soon after
its meeting he introduced his India bill. The in-
troduction of that measure was also preceded by
a select committee, of which Mr. Dundas was chair-
man ; and although the new bill was not liable to
the strong objections which had been urged against
that of Mr. Fox, it nevertheless encountered a very
serious opposition, and might have been greatly ob-
structed or mutilated in its progress, but for the
assistance of Mr. Dundas. His intimate acquaint-
ance with Indian affairs, and his skill and dexterity
as a debater, were invaluable to government, and
contributed in no inconsiderable degree to neutralize
or overcome the opposition of the East India Com-
pany, and ultimately to carry the bill triumphantly
through parliament.

Mr. Dundas had been restored to his office of trea-
surer of the navy immediately on the form.ition of
Mr. Pitt's administration; and on the passing of the
East India bill he was also appointed president of
the Board of Control. As treasurer of the navy
Mr. Dundas' services were in the highest degree
beneficial. His arrangements for the disbursement
of the money appropriated to this branch of the
public service substituted order and economy in
the place of perplexity and profusion. Me, at the
same time, provided for greater promptitude in the
payment of the seamen's wages ; and in order to
render the service still more attractive, he introduced
and carried through parliament various measures
calculated to improve the condition and increase the
comforts of the seamen in the royal navy. In par-
ticular, he got an act passed for j^reventing the pass-
ing of forged instruments. By this act the wills and
powers of attorney, executed by seamen, were re-
quired to be countersigned by the officers of the
port at which they were dated, and thus a check was
given to numerous frauds against the families of
sailors who were either absent or who had fallen in tlie
service of their country. He also introduced a bill,
which was afterwards passed, empowering seamen
to make over half their pay to their wives and
families. By these and other reforms which he
effected in the naval department, Mr. Dundas, while
he greatly increased the efficacy of the navy, sliowed
a humane consideration for those engaged in the
service, which is at this day gratefully remembered
by many members of that profession, who can speak
frjm their own experience of their obligations to one
who was most justly calltnl "the sailor's friend."
Among the measures introduced by Mr. Dundas
while he held the treasurersliip of the navy, was tlie
act for the regulation of the money destined for the
service of the navy. Previously the salary of the
treasurer of the navy was ;^2000 jier annum ; but the
perquisites attaclied to the office, and jiarticularly the
command of the pulilic money, added greatly to the
emoluments. In order to jirevent the ri^k, profusion,
and irregularity inseparalile from such a sy>tem, Mr.
Dundas' bill fixed the salary at ;^4000, and pro-
hibited the treasurer from making any ]irivate or
individual use of the jiuhlic money. It was in
consetjuence of a sujiposed violation of this statute,
that Mr. Dundas, at a later jicriod nf his life,
was exposed to much unmerited obloquy, and
made tlie subject of a public inquiry, to which

we shall have occasion more particularly to advert
in the sefjuel.

In the .session of 1784 Mr. Dundas introduced his
bill for restoring the estates in Scotland forfeited on
account of the rebellion of 1745. The exi>ediency
of this measure as a means of conciliating the inhabi-
tants of the northern part of the island, and recon-
ciling them to the reigning family, was manifest; still
it was necessar)', for obvious reasons, so far to cover
the true motive, and to represent the boon as a re-
ward to the people of Scotland for the ser\ices which
they had rendered in the armies of the country dur-
ing the recent wars. And such accordingly was the
tone taken by the supporters of the measure.

As ]>resident of the Board of Control, .Mr. Dundas'
services were no less beneficial to the countr)-. His
sound judgment and remarkable business talents,
combined with his intimate acquaintance with the
complicated and multifarious details of the East India
Company's affairs, enabled him to simplify and re-
duce to order what had been previously an absolute
chaos. Hence, also, in parliament die was at all
times prepared to give the requisite exidanations,
and to furnish full information concerning Indian
matters; while it was his constant endeavour to col-
lect, and to avail himself of the information and
suggestions which his situation placed at his com-
mand, in order to introduce those reforms in the
Company's administration which the rapid extension
of their possessions in that quarter of the world
rendered necessarj-. It was with this view that, in
the session of 1786, Mr. Dundas carried a bill through
parliament for effecting certain modifications and
improvements in Mr. Pitt's India bill. In the same
session Mr. Burke originated those discussions which
terminated in the impeachment of Mr. Hastings.
It is now well known that, on that occasion, the
exuberant and inexhaustible eloquence of Mr. Burke
was, without his being aware of it, to a certain extent
made suljscrvient, not only to party juirposes, but
to the gratification of the jirivate animosity of Mr.
Francis. We can now look back dispassionately
and with sympathy to the unmerited and protracted
sufferings to which Mr. Hastings was subjected; but
during the progress of the investigation, truth as well
as justice were lost sight of, amidst the splendid de-
clamation of some of the greatest orators who ever
appeared in parliament. Even Mr. Dundas seems
to have yielded to the prevailing delusion, and made
no attempt to vindicate Mr. Hastings from those
charges which, when stri]ipedofrhetorical and oriental
embellishments, were found to be either entirely
groundless, or such as admitted of explanation.

After taking part with Mr. Pitt in the debates on
the regency question, during the king's illness in
17S8, the next prominent feature in Mr. Dundas'
public life, was his stcatly and determined opposi-
tion to tlie pernicious principles of the Frei'.eli re-
volution. In that memorable struggle, in whieli tl;j
salvation of this country was attributable cliiclly tu
the energ)- and firmness of Mr. Pitt, the r.iini-tcr.
as usual, found in Mr. Dundas Ids most r.lie and
cordial coadjutor. In 1701 b.e was a]>j'i'ir.ted ]>rin-
cipal secretary of >tatc f.r tlie licnie ilepartiiicnt. an^!
thus became a inenil)er I'f tlie c.il'inet. lie. at ilie
same time, retained hi^ uther aj [Hiiiitnier/..-: and _\ct
such was hisajnitude for l.u>ine". and Iri- r.!.\\caried
application to his dfncial ihities, that the three im-
portant departments C'lnmitted t<> hiin ntvt,rwere
in a state of greater ef:';ci(.:-.cy. Many (if tl.e mo.-t
ajiproved ].ublic mea-i;:e> uiiginated witli or were
directly pri.innited liyliini. An^^r.g those were the
formatiiin of t!ie fciK-i:>Ie rc-ginier.ts. the .-i;['; iemen-
tar)- militia, the vt Ir.r.'.eer cuij .-, and tlic \ ix-Ni^ionai

SiG

DUNDASES OF ARNISTON.

cav.ilr>'. The whole, in short, of that domestic
military force which, during the war consequent
on the French revolution, was raised and kept in
readiness as a defence at once against foreign inva-
sion and internal disturbance, was projected and
organized under the direction of Mr. Dundas. To
him also we owe the improved system of distributing
the army throughout the country in barracks and
garrisons, by which, in times of commercial distress
and political agitation, the most prompt protection
to the lives and property of the inhabitants might be
atTorded. On the accession of the Duke of Port-
land and his party to the ministry, in 1793, it was
thought advisable to appoint a third secretary of
state, rather than remove Mr. Uundas from the
superintendence of the military system which lie had
l:)rought into operation. Accordingly, while tlie
Duke of Portland took the home-secretaryship, Mr.
Dundas, in 1794, was nominated secretary of state
for the war department. At this time he also held
the office of keeper of the privy-seal of Scotland, and
governor of the Bank of Scotland; still retaining the
presidency of the Board of Control and the treasurer-
ship of the navy — which last office he continued to
hold until May, 1800; his other political offices he
held until his resignation, along with Mr. Pitt, in
1801.

While in the House of Commons, Mr. Dundas
represented first the county, and afterwards the city,
of Edinburgh. He sat for the county from 1774 to
17S7, and for the city from the latter year until
1S02, when he was raised to the peerage. And dur-
ing the whole course of his official life he was con-
sidered as virtually the minister of Scotland. He
had what is called the political patronage of that
quarter of the kingdom ; and so acted, as well in
the discliarge of his various public duties, as in the
distril)ution of the favours of government, that he
attached to himself, and to the administration of
which he formed a part, the great majority of the
men of rank, property, and influence in that country.
It has been ol)jected to him that, in the exercise
of this ])atronage, he looked too exclusively to his
own political partisans; but in justice to him, it must
never Ije forgotten that he held office in times wlien
the acrimony of his opponents (to say nothing of the
dangerous principles avowed by some of them) put
conciliation entirely out of the question; and besides,
the charge is to a great extent unjust ; for on his
trial it was admitted, even by his Ijitterest enemies,
that in disposing of appointments in the navy and
army he was remarkaljlc for liis impartiality and in-
difference to party distinctions. Nor is it possible
to overlook the fact, that the political party by whom
this charge was brought against Mr. Dundas had
always been ])rov<jrbial for their own adherence to
the practice they were so ready to condemn in him.

When Mr. Pitt retired from office in 1801, previous
to the peace of Amiens, Mr. Dundas followed his ex-
am])le. On that occasion he laid before jiarliament
a very favourable statement of the condition in which
the Ivist India Company's affairs tlien were ; and
although his opponents did not fail to cavil at his
views, yet all parties concurred in expressing the
highest approkation of the manner in which .\Ir.
Dundas had discharged his duty as presi<lent of the
Boar(i of Control. The court of directors were dis-
posed to award him more substantial marks of their
gratitude; but finding that he had resolved to decline
any pecuniary remuneration, they conferred a jiension
()f,/'2000 per annum on Mrs. Dundas. .\bout thesame
time the town-council of Kdinburgh testified their
sense of his merit by resolving, at an extraordinary
meeting called for the purpose, that a subscription

should be opened for the erection of a statue of him
as a tribute of gratitude for his lengthened and
eminent public services. In the year 1S02 the Ad-
dington administration raised Mr. Dundas to the
peerage by the titles of Viscount of Melville in the
county of Edinburgh, and Baron of Dunira in the
county of Perth.

On Mr. Pitt resuming the premiership, in 1804,
Lord Melville was appointed first lord of the admi-
ralty; but this important oflfice he did not long enjoy.
The Earl St. Vincent, his predecessor at the head
of the admiralty, had obtained the appointment of a
commission of inquiry to investigate certain suspected
abuses in the naval department of the public service.
That commission, in their tenth report, implicated
Lord Melville, while he held the treasurership of the
navy, in a breach of the statute which he had himself
introduced in 1785, whereby the treasurer of the navy
was prohibited from converting to his own use or
emolument any part of the public money voted for
the service of the navy. This report led to an un-
satisfactory correspondence between Lord Melville
and the commissioners; and on the 8th of April,
1805, Mr. Whitbread brought the matter under the
notice of the House of Commons. After a speech
full of violent invective, that gentleman moved thir-
teen resolutions, to the effect generally that Lord
Melville had been guilty of gross malversation and
breach of duty, in so far as he had misapplied or
misdirected certain sums of public money, and had
also, in violation of the act of parliament, retained in
his possession, or authorized his confidential agent,
Mr. Alexander Trotter, who held the office of pay-
master of the navy, to retain, and to speculate in the
funds, and discount private bills with the balances of
the public money voted for the service of the navy,
in the profits of which transactions Lord Melville
had participated. Mr. Pitt, after an ehjquent and
able defence of Lord Melville, concluded Ijy moving,
as an amendment, that the tenth report be referretl
to a select committee of the house. He was replied
to by Lord Henry Petty, afterwards Lord I.ansdow ne,
Mr. Fox, and other leading members of the ^^ hig
party; and the result was, that in a very full house
(433) the original resolutions were carried by the
speaker's casting vole.

The debate was then adjourned to the loth of
April, 1805, on which day Mr. Pitt announced to
the house on its meeting, that in consequence of the
vote of the former evening. Lord Melville had re-
signed the office of first Und of the admiralty. Mr.
Whitbread then delivered anolhervitu]3eratives)ieech,
and concKuled by moving that an address should be
jjresented to the king, pra)ing that Lord Melville
might be dismissed "from all offices held by him
during pleasure, and from his majesty's counsel and
presence for ever." Mr. Canning, who at that time
held tlie oifice of treasurer of the navy, deprecated the
rancour with which the Whig jiarty were jnucecd-
ing. He contrasted their contiuct with that oi Lord
Melville himself when Lord (Irey and Earl .St.
Vincent were on their trial before the house, under
similar circumstances, upon which occasion Lord
.Melville, although the political opponent of these
noblemen, had strenuously defended them; while he,
"so far from experiencing ecpial generosity, was
now persecuted and hunted dcjwn ; and by whom .■'
!)y the friends of Lord (irey and Earl St. \"ineent 1
lie congratulated the gentlemen on their sense, true
spirit, and vi'rtue, and jirayed God Almighty to for-
bid that he should ever imitate tiieir exanqile." The
debate concluded by a vote that a copy of tlie resolu-
tions of the 8th of Ajiril should be laid before his
majesty by the whole house. Some discussion after-

DUNDASES OF ARNISTOX.

517

wards took place as to the ulterior measures to he
adopted against Lord Melville and Mr. Trotter, in
the course of which the same extraordinary acrimony
was displayed; and on the 6th of May Mr. Pitt inti-
mated that his majesty had iK-en advised, in deference
to the prevailing sense of the house, to strike the
name of Lord Melville out of the list of the privy-
council, and that accordingly it would be erased on
the first day on which a council should be held. In
making this communication Mr. Pitt appeared to be
deeply affected; but no sympathy was shown on the
opposition benches. On the contrary, it is impossible
to deny, that relentless exultation over the expected
downfal of an illustrious public servant, and a total
disregard for the feelings of his friend the premier,
were too prominently manifested by the Whig party
on that, as on every other occasion on which this
painful subject was before the house.

On the nth of June the speaker stated that he had
received a letter from Lord Melville announcing his
readiness to attend and be examined relative to the
t-Mith report. He was thereupon admitted, and a
chair placed for him within the bar; when he entered
upon a concise vindication of his conduct, declaring
his entire ignorance of Mr. Trotter's speculations
with the public money, cither in the funds or as a
private banker; denied all connivance at the viola-
tion of the statute 25th George IIL, relative to the
money voted to the navy; and solemnly asserted,
that on no occasion whatever had he authorized Mr.
Trotter to draw money from the bank for his own
private emolument — the only object in allowing him
to lodge money with private bankers having been to
facilitate the public payments. In short. Lord Mel-
ville gave those explanations of his conduct which
were afterwards triumphantly established on his trial
by evidence. But, as may be easily believed, they
did not, at this time, satisfy his opponents; and after
a protracted debate, and more than one division ad-
verse to the Whig party, it was at last resolved that
the mode of procedure should be by impeaching his
lordship at the bar of the House of Lords of high
crimes and misdemeanours. On the 26th of June a
committee of twenty-one members was appointed to
prepare articles of impeachment, Mr. \Vhitbread's
name being placed at the head. Among the members
of this committee were Mr. Fox, Mr. Grey (late Earl
Grey), Mr. .Sheridan, Lord ArchibaKl Hamilton, and
other leaders of the party. The committee, on the
4th of March, 1806, made a report to the house of
certain new information which had come to their
knowledge; and the result of the debate which ensued
was an additional article of impeachment. To this
new article Lord Melville was of course allowed to
put in a replication; and the preliminaries being at
length adjusted, the House of Lords I'lxed the 29th
of .April, 1S06, fur the trial.

This imjiosing exhibition was conducted with the
customary j)omp and solemnity. Westminster Hall
was, as usual, fitted up for the occa>ion ; and the
nobility, including the princes of llie l>lood, having
taken their places in the full rol)es of their respective
ranks, this tribunal, the most august and veneraljle
in tlie world, proceeded to the discharge of their
high duty. The articles of impeachment resolved
into ten charges, of which tlie following is the sub-
stance:— I. Tliat Lord Melville, while treasurer of
the navy, prior to January, i~S(\ fraudulently ajiplied
to his own use, or at least misdirected, and would not
explain how, ^10.000 of the money which came into
his hanils as treasurer of the navy. — 2. That, in vio-
lation of the act of parliament already mentioned,
he permitted Mr. Trotter to draw large sums from
ilie monev issued to the treasurer for the use of the

navy, and to place it in the bankinp house of Messrs.
Coutts & Co. in his (.Mr. Trotters) own name. — 3.
That while he held the office of treasurer of the navy,
and after the passing of the foresaid act, he permitted
Mr. Trotter to draw large sums of money from the
treasurer's public account kept with the Bank of Eng-
land, under the said statute, and to place those sums
in .Mr. Trotter's individual account v^•ith Coutts & Co.,
for purposes of private emolument. — 4. That after
the loth of January, 1786, and while trea.surer of the
navy, he fraudulently and illegally, and for his own
j^rivate advantage or emolument, took from the pub-
lic money, set a])art for the use of the navy, ;^lo,ooo;
and that he and Mr. Trotter, by mutual agreement,
destroyed the vouchers of an account current kept
between them, in order to conceal the advances of
money made by Mr. Trotter to him, and the account
or considerations on which such advances were made.

5. That whilst Mr. Trotter was thus illegally using
the public money, he made, in jiart therefrom, several
large advances to Lord Melville, and destroyed the
vouchers, as aforesaid, in order to conceal the fact.

6. That in particular he received an advance of
£z2,(X)0, without interest, partly from the public
money illegally in Mr. Trotter's hands, and partly
from Mr. Trotter's own money in the hands of
Messrs. Coutts, and destroyed the vouchers as afore-
said.— 7. That he received an advance of ;^22,ooo
from Mr. Trotter, for which, as alleged by liimself,
he was to pay interest; for concealing which transac-
tion the vouchers were destroyed as aforesaid. — 8.
That during all, or the greater part of the time that
he was treasurer, and Mr. Trotter paymaster of the
navy, Mr. Trotter gratuitously transacted his (Lord
Melville's) private business, as his agent, and from
time to time advanced him from ;^io,cxX) to
;^20,000, taken partly from the public money, and
partly from Mr. Trotter's own money, lying mixed
together indiscriminately in Messrs. Coutts' hands,
whereby Lord Melville derived profit from Mr.
Trotter's illegal acts. — 9. That Mr. Trotter so acted
gratuitously as Lord Melville's agent, in C(jnsidera-
tion of his connivance at the foresaid illegal aji] ro-
priations of the public money; nor could Mr. Trotter,
as Lord Melville knew, have made such advances
otherwise than from the public money at his di>i)0sal
by his lordship's connivance, and \\\\.\\ his jiermis-
sion. — 10. That Lord Melville, while treasurer of
the navy, at divers times between the years 17S2 and
17S6 took from the moneys paid to him as treasurer
of the navy, £z',oco, or thereabouts, which sum he
illegally applied to his own use, or to some purpose
other than the service of the navy, and continued
this fraudulent and illegal conversion of the ]'id)lic
money, after the passing of the act for regidating
the office (jf treasurer of the navy.

The charges, of which the above is an al -".rac;,
having been read, Mr. Whitbread, as leading ninr.ager
for the House of Commons, opened the cise in an
elaborate speech, in which he detailed, .-inil c^ni-
mented on, the evidence which the niar.ager- jt' ■]' >cd
to adduce. This was followed by tiie ex.iiniiiation
of witnesses in supjmrt of the several cl;.i:.;e-. t!ie
chief witness being Mr. Trotter liin^eif, in \\b.o~e
favour an act of indemnity had Ix-cn ]?.--■,'.!. ii; ■ rder
to qualify him to give hi- tof.mony wi;';. sa'ety.
The examination of the \\:tne— es in >uj'j-'irt ot the
charges occujiied nearly nine days. ( >n tlie tentli
day of the trial Sir S.iTr.uel Komil'.y, o!ie "f tlie
managers, gave a .-umir.ary ot'wliat, a- lie niair.lair.e'i,
had been proved. He v.a- fo'.'. •■.ve.i by Mr. I'l-nier.
the leading counsel Tt Lit 1 .Me!v;I;e. \slio "j.eiiwl
the defence in a -; eeuli of (::-i;:;gi:i>hel ahiiity. the
deliverv of wliich eccr.vied two cr.'.>. 11. e -■,■.l)^;aI:ce

5i8

DUNDASES OF ARNISTON.

of the defence was, that Lord Melville, so far from
being accessory to, or conniving at, Mr. Trotter's
appropriation of the public money, was entirely
ignorant of these irregular practices. As to the
;^iO,cxx), it was admitted to have been diverted from
the service of the navy and used in another depart-
ment of the public service, but this was prior to the
passing of the foresaid act, when such a proceeding
was perfectly lawful and customary; and at any rate,
no part of that sum was applied, either directly or
indirectly, to the individual profit or advantage of
Lord Melville. Mr. Plomer further showed that
Lord Melville had been remarkable during his whole
life for his carelessness about money, and for his
superiority to all mercenary motives — that while he
held the office of treasurer of the navy, he had volun-
tarily relinquished the salary attached to the office
of secretary of state, to the aggregate amount of
^^34,730, being a sum exceeding the whole of the
public money which he was said to have misapplied
— that if there had been any irregularity at all, it was
imputable solely to Mr. Trotter, and perhaps to a
slight degree of laxity on the jjart of Lord IVIelville,
whose attention was distracted by many engrossing
and more important public duties. Witnesses were
then called to prove that Lord Melville had volun-
tarily relinquished, for the benefit of the public,
;^8648, 13^-. 2d. in the home department, and
;j26,oSi, ~s. ^d. in the war department, making a
total of ;(^34,730, os. "jd. ; and the case on the part of
the defendant was then concluded by a very able
speech from Mr. Adam, afterwards lord chief-com-
missioner of the jury court in Scotland. Sir Arthur
Piggot, on the part of the managers of the House of
Commons, replied at some length to the legal argu-
ments of Messrs. Plomer and Adam, and Mr. Whit-
bread closed the case by a reply upon the evidence,
in the course of which he resumed the invective and
sarcasm against Lord Melville which had distin-
guished his opening speech as well as all his speeches
on this subject in the House of Commons. It would
seem, however, if we are to judge from the result,
that either his sarcasm or his arguments had by this
time lost their efficacy. After a few words from Mr.
Plomer, the peers adjourned, and having met again,
after an interval of nearly a moutli, on the loth of
June, to determine on Lord Melville's guilt or inno-
cence, he was acquitted of every charge by triumphant
majorities. On the fourth charge, in particular,
wliich concerned tlie sum of ;^io,ooo alleged to have
been applied by Lord Melville for his own advantage
or emolument, their lordsliips were unanimous in
tiieir acquittal ; and in general the majorities were
very large on all the charges which imputed corrupt
or fraudulent intentions to Lord Melville. The
votes on the several charges were as follow :—

Guilty. Not Guilty . Majority.

First Charge, . . .16 115 103

.Second Charge, ... 56 79 23

Third Charge, ... 52 8j 31

Fourth Charge, . . .N'nic. All.

Fifth Charge, ... 4 131 127

Sixth Charge, ... 43 87 39

Seventh Charge, ... 50 85 35

Eighth Charge, . . .14 121 107

Ninth Charge, . . .16 119 103

Tenth Charge, . . .12 123 in

The Dukes of York, Cumberland, and Cambridge
generally voted 7iot guilty ; tile Dukes of Clarence,
Kent, and .Sussex, guilty, excejn of the 4th charge.
The lord-chancellor, Erskine, generally voted with
the Dukes of Clarence, Kent, and Sussex. The
Prince of Wales was not present.

Soon after his acquittal, Lord Melville was re-
stored to his place in the privy-council; but although
the Whig administration which was in power at the

end of the trial resigned within a few months, he
never returned to office. The loss of his friend Mr.
Pitt, and his own advanced age, rendered him little
anxious to resume public life; and thenceforward he
lived chiefly in retirement, taking part only occa-
sionally in the debates of the House of Lords. One
of his last appearances was made in the year 1810,
when he brought forsvard a motion recommending
the employment of armed vessels, instead of hired
transports, for the conveyance of troops. His death,
which was very sudden, took place in Edinburgh,
on the 27th of ALay, 181 1. He died in the house
of his nephew. Lord Chief-baron Dundas, in George
Square; having come to Edinburgh, it is believed,
to attend the funeral of his old friend, Lord-president
Blair, who had been himself cut off no less suddenly,
a few days before, and who lay dead in the house
adjoining that in which Lord Melville expired.

Lord Melville's person was tall, muscular, and
well formed. His features were strongly marked,
and the genend expression of his face indicated high
intellectual endowments and great acuteness and
sagacity. In public life he was distinguished by his
wonderfid capacity for business; by unwearied atten-
tion to his numerous official duties ; and by the
manliness and straightforwardness of his character.
He was capable of great fatigue; and, being an early
riser, he was enabled to get through a great deal of
business before he was interrupted by the bustle of
official details or the duties of private society. As
a public speaker he was clear, acute, and argumen-
tative ; with the manner of one thoroughly master
of his subject, and desirous to convince the under-
standing without the aid of the ornamental parts of
oratory; which he seemed, in some sort, to despise.

In private life his manner was winning, agreeable,
and friendly, with great frankness and ease. He
was convivial in his habits, and, in the intercourse
of private life, he never permitted party distinctions
to interfere with the cordiality and kindness of his
disposition; hence, it has been truly said that Whig
and Tory agreed in loving him; and that he was
always happy to oblige those in common with whom
he had any recollections of good-humoured festivity.
But Lord Melville's great claim on the affection and
gratitude of Scotsmen is founded on tlie traly
national spirit with which he promoted their interest,
and the improvement of their country, whcnevtr
opportunities presented themselves. There had of
late been a disposition \.o provi)tcialize Scotland (if we
may so express ourselves), and a sort of timidity
amongst our public men lest they should be sus-
pected of showing any national predilections. Lord
Melville labouretl under no such infirmity. Catcris
paribus, he preferred his own countiymen; and the
number of .Scotsmen who owed ajipointments in
India and elsewhere to him, and afterwards returned
to spend their fortunes at home, have contributed
in no inconsiderable degree to the marked improve-
ment on the face of the country whicli has taken
place during the last seventy years. Neither did he
overlook the interest of those who remained at home.
The abolition of the public boards, courts, and other
memorials of the former independence of Scotland,
had not occurred to the economists of Lord Melville's
day. He acted, therefore, on the exploded, although
by no means irrational, notion, that the ci>mmunity
generally would derive benefit from the expenditure
of the various resident functionaries at that time con-
nected with our national establishments. In all this
he may have been wrong, although there are many
who are still at a loss to j^erceive the error; but how-
ever that may !)e, he uuist be but an indifferent
Scotsman, be his political principles what they may,

VISCOUNT DUNDEE JOHN DE DUNS.

519

who can falk lightly of the debt which his country
owes to Lord Melville. Indeed it is well known
that, during his life, the services which he had ren-
dered to this part of the island were readily acknow-
ledged even by those who differed most widely from
him on the general system of public policy in which
he took so active a part.

Lord Melville was twice married; first, to Miss
Rannie, daugiiter of Captam Rannie of Melville, with
wliom he is said to have got a fortune of ;^ioo,ooo.
His second wife was Lady Jane Hope, daughter of
John- and sister to James, Earl of Hopetoun. Of
his first marriage there were three daughters and one
son; of the second no issue. Lord Melville's landed
property in .Scotland consisted of Melville Castle in
Mitllothian and Dunira in Perthshire. He was suc-
ceeded in his titles and estates by his only son, the
Right Honourable Roljert Dundas, who held the office
of first lord of the admiralty under the administra-
tions of the Earl of Liverpool and of the Duke of
Wellington.

Lord Melville can hardly be said to have been an
author, but he published the three subjoined poli-
tical pamphlets, each of which was distinguished by
his usual good sense and knowledge of business.'

DUNDEE, Viscount, ^^v Graham, John.

DUNLOP, William, principal of the university
of Glasgow, and an eminent public character at the
end of the seventeeth century, was the son of Mr.
Alexander Dunlop, minister of Paisley, of the family
of .Vuchenkeith in Ayrshire, by Elizabeth, daughter
of William Mure of Glanderston. One of his mother's
sisters was married to the Rev. John Carstairs,
and became the mother of the celebrated principal
of the college of Edinburgh ; anotlier was the wife
successively of Mr. Zachary Boyd and Mr. James
Durham. Peing thus intimately connected with the
clergy, William Dunlop early chose the church as
his profession. After completing his studies at the
university of Glasgow, he became tutor in the family
of William, Lord Cochrane, and superintended
the education of John, second Earl of Dundonald,
and his brother, William Cochrane of Kilmarnock.
The insurrection of 1679 took place about the time
when he became a licentiate, and he warmly espoused
the views of tiie moderate party in that unfortunate
enterprise. Though he was concerned in drawing up
the Hamilton declaration, which embodied the views
of his party, he appears to have esca]ied the suljse-
fjuent vengeance of the government. Tired, however,
like many otiijrs, of the hopeless state of things
in his own country, he joined the emigrants who
colonized the state of Carolina, and continued tliere
till after the Revolution, partly employed in secular
and partly in spiritual work. He had previously
married his cousin, Sarah Carstairs. On returning
t') Scotland in 1690, he was, through the inlluence
of the Dundonald family, presented to the parish of
Ochiltree, and a few months after had a call to the
ciuirch of Paisley. Ere he could enter upon this
charge, a vacancy occurred in the principality of the
university of (ilasgow, to which he was preferred
by King William, November, 1690. Mr. Dunlop's
celebrity arises from the dignity and zeal with which
lie sujiported the interests of this institution. In
1692 he was an active member of the general corre-

1 Till- Substanije cf .: S,\wh in thi- Ifi^'iisr i\f Comnu-'ns. on
ttie British C:Ku-rnntrntitn<i Traile in tin- E its t Iiuitts. April
23. 1793. London. iSn, Svo. — I.rtirr to the Chairman 0/ the
Court of directors 0/ flu- East India Company, upon an open
Trade' to India. L.>nil.>n. 1813, %vo. ^Letters to the Rii^ht
Hiinoiirahle Spenser /Vr,;V',i/. re/ati-'e /' the Estahlishment
cf a Xaz'al Arsenal at Xort/irieet. Lonjon, iSio, 41 j.

spondence of the Scottish universities, and in 1694
was one of a deputation sent by the Church of Scot-
land to congratulate the king on his return from
the Continent, and negotiate with his majesty certain
affairs concerning the interest of the church. He
seems to have participated considerably in the power
and influence enjoyed by his distinguished brother-
in-law, Carstairs, which it is well known was of a
most exalted though unofficial kind. In 1699 he
acted as commissioner for all the five universities, in
endeavouring to obtain some assistance for those in-
stitutions. He succeeded in securing a yearly grant
of ;^I200 sterling, of which ;^300 was l^estowed
upon his own college. While exerting himself for
the public. Principal Dunlop regarded little his own
immediate profit or advantage: besides his principal-
ship, the situation of historiographer for Scotland,
with a pension of £^0 a year, is stated to have been
all that he ever personally experienced of the royal
bounty. He died in middle life, March, 1700,
leaving behind him a most exalted character. " His
singular piety," says Wodrow, with whom he was
connected by marriage, "great prudence, public
spirit, universal knowledge, general usefulness, and
excellent temper, were so well known, that his death
was as much lamented as perhaps any one man's in
this church."

Principal Dunlop left two sons, both of whom
were distinguishetl men. Alexander, who was bom
in America, and died in 1742, was an eminent pro-
fessor of Greek in the Glasgow university, and author
of a Greek grammar long held in esteem. William
was professor of divinity and church history in the
university of Edinburgh, and published the well-
known collection of creeds and confessions which
appeared in 1719 and 1722 (two volumes), as a
means of correcting a laxity of religious opinion,
beginning at that time to be manifested by some
respectable dissenters. To this work was prefixed
an admiral)le essay on confessions, which has since
been reprinted separately. Professor William Dun-
lop, after acquiring great celebrity both as a teacher
of theology and a preacher, died October 29th, 1720,
at the early age of twenty-eight.

DUNS, John de (Scoxrs), that is, "John of
Dunse, Scotsman," an eminent j)hiIoso]iher, was
born in the latter part of the thirteenth century.

The thirteenth and part of the fourteenth centuries
are distinguished in the histor)- of philosophy as the
scholastic it^c, in which the Aristotelian logic and
metaphysics were employeii, to an absurd and even
impious degree, in demonstrating and illustrating
the truths of the 1 loly Scriptures. .Among the many
scholars of Europe who, during this period, per-
verted their talents in the exposition of preposterous
dogmas and the defence of a false systeni of philo-
so])hy, John de Dinse, called the Subtle Doctor,
was perhaps the most celebrated, .^o famous ir.i'.ecd
was he held for his genius and learning, that ling-
land and Ireland have contended with Scotland lor
the honour of his birth. His name, however, ^een■.s
to indicate his nativity beyond all rer.-or.able dispute.
Though convenience has iniluced general modem
writers to adopt the temi Scotus as hi- jirincijal
cognomen, it is e\-idently a si.;nification of his native
country alone; for Krigena, and other eminent natives
of Scotlanii in early limes, are all alike (;i>tingu;~hed
by it in their learned tilie>: tiiese titles, be it ob-
served, having been cor.lVrred in /."v-v'.' senv.nanes
of learning. 7 'i'/ c/ /hi>:.;c points as cler.rlv a-
possible to the town of that name in ISerivic'K.-hire,
where, at this i!ay. a -I'oi i^ j^ointed out as the place
of his birth, and a liunch of Iris f.'.milv po.-.-ej.-ec.

520

JOHN DE DUNS.

till the beginning of the last century, a small piece
of ground, called in old writings, "Duns's Half of
Grueldykes." Those who claim him as a native
of England set forward the village of Dunstane in
Northumberland as the place of his birth; but while
the word Dunse^ is exactly his name, Dunstane is
not so, and therefore, without other proof, we must
hold the English locality as a mere dream. The
Irish claimants again say, that, as Scotia was the
ancient name of Ireland, Scotits must have been an
Irishman. But it happens that Scotland and Ireland
bore their present names from a period long antece-
dent to the birth of John de Dunse; and all over
Europe Hiberniis and Scottis were distinguishing
titles of Irishmen and Scotsmen. Independent, too,
of the name, there are other testimonies concerning
the native place of Scotus. In the earliest authentic
record of him, preserved in his life by Wading (an
Irishman and advocate for Ireland), the following
passage occurs, which represents him as a boy con-
ducted by two friars to Dumfries, a town in a county
almost adjoining that in which Dunse is situate: —
■'Some infer that the acute genius of Scotus was
inborn. Father Ildephonsus Birzenus {in Appar.
§ 2) from Ferchius ( Vita Scoti, c. 20), and the latter
from Gilbert Brown {Hist. Eccles.) relate, 'that
Scotus, occupied on a farm, and, though the son of
a rich man, employed in keeping sheep, according
to the custom of his country, that youth may not
become vicious from idleness, was met by two Fran-
ciscan friars, begging as usual for their monastery.
Being favourably received by his father's hospitality,
they begun to instruct the boy by the repetition of
the Lord's prayer, as they found him ignorant of the
principles of piety; and he was so apt a scholar as to
repeat it at once. The friars, surprised at such
docility, which they regarded as a prodigy, prevailed
on the father, though the mother warmly and loudly
opposed, to permit them to lead the boy to Dum-
fries, where he was soon after shorn as a novice, and
])resented to our holy father St. Francis; and some
say that he then assumed the profession of a friar.'
Such are the words of Birzenus." Another passage
from the same authority is still more conclusive
regarding the country of Scotus: — "Nor must a
wonderful circumstance l^e omitted, which, with
liirzenus, we transcribe from Ferchius (c. 5), that
we may obtain the greater credit. Hence it appears
that the Holy Virgin granted to Dunse innocence of
life, modesty of manners, complete faith, continence,
[liety, and wisdom. That Paul might not be elated
by great revelations, he suffered the IjIows of .Satan;
tliat the Sulnle Doctor might not l^e indated by the
gifts of the mother of Christ, he was forced to suffer
the tribulation of captivity by a fierce enemy. Gold
is tried by the furnace, and a just man by temptation,
lulward I., King of JOngland, called, from the length
of his legs, Lon\^ Shanks, had cruelly invaded Sc(jt-
land, leaving no monument f)f ancient majesty that
he did not seize or desirf)y, leading to <leath, or to
jail, the most noble and learned men of the country.
.Imottf^ them were tivelve friars; and that he miglit
experience the dreadful slaughter and bitter ca])tivity
of his country, John of Dunse suffered a miserable
srn'itude; thus imitating the apostle in the graces of
(jod, and the chains he endured."

When delivered from his servitude in ICngland,
Scotus studied at Merton College, (Oxford, where he
soon became distinguished, particularly by the faci-

1 It is a common story that the term dunce is derived from
the name of the philosopher, but in an oblique manner; a stupid
student being iamcCi. niipiher Dunse, on the same principle as
a person fif heavy intellect in general life is sometimes termed
a bright man.

lity and subtlety of his logical disputations. His
progress in natural and moral philosophy, and in
the different branches of mathematical learning, was
rapid; and his skill in scholastic theology was so
striking, that he was, in 1301, appointed divinity
professor at Oxford. In this situation he soon
attracted unbounded popularity. His lectures on
the sentences of Peter Lombard drew immense
crowds of hearers, and we are assured that there
were no fewer than thirty thousand students brought
to the university of Oxford by the fame of the Subtle
Doctor's eloquence and learning. These lectures
have been printed, and fill six folio volumes. In
1304 he was commanded by the general of his order
(the F"ranciscan) to proceed to Paris, to defend the
doctrine of the immaculate conception of the Virgin
Mary, which had been impugned by some divines.
No fewer than two hundred objections are said to
have been brought against that doctrine, which he
" heard with great composure, and refuted them with
as much ease as Samson broke the cords of the
Philistines." Hugo Cavillus, in his life of Scotus,
says that one who was present on this occasion, but
who was a stranger to the person, though not to the
fame, of Scotus, exclaimed, in a fervour of admiration
at the eloquence displayed, "This is either an angel
from heaven, a devil from hell, or John Duns Scotus!"
The same anecdote we have seen applied to various
other prodigies, but this is perhaps the origin of it.
As a reward for his victory in this famous dispute,
he was appointed professor and regent in the theo-
logical schools of Paris, and acquired the title of the
Subtle Doctor. Nothing, however, could be
more barren and useless than the chimerical abstrac-
tions and metaphysical refinements which obtained
him his title. He opposed Thomas Aquinas on the
subject of grace, and established a sect called the
Scotists, in contradistinction to the Thomists, which
extended its ramifications throughout every country
in Europe. In 1308 he was sent to Cologne, to
found a university there, and to defend his favourite
doctrine of the immaculate conception against the
disciples of Albert the Great. But he was only a
few months there when he was seized with an apo-
plectic fit, which cut him off on the 8th of November,
1308, in the forty-fourth, or, according to others, in
the thirty-fourth year of his age. It is said that he
was buried before he had been actually dead, as was
discovered by an after-examination of his grave.

The writings which Scotus left behind him were
numerous. Various editions of parts of them, par-
ticularly of his lectures on the sentences of Peter
Lombard, were printed towards the close of the
fifteenth century; and in 1639 a complete edition of
all his works, with his life, by Wading, ct cut)i A'otis
et Comm. a J'. J\ Ilibernis Colhxii Koinani S. Isino'i
Professoribiis, a]ipeared at Lyons in twelve volumes
folio ! These labours, which were at one time
handled with reverential awe, are now almost totally
neglected.

The fame of John Duns Scotus during his life-
time, and for many years after his decease, was
extraordinary, and goes to prove the extent of his
talents, however misapplied and wasted they were
on the subtleties of school philosophy and the ab-
surdities (jf school divinity. From among the testi-
monials regarding him which Wading has collected
in his life, the following, by a learned cardinal, may
be given as a si)ecimcn: — "Among all the scholastic
doctors, I must regard John Duns Scotus as a
splendid sun, obscuring all the stars of heaven by
the piercing acuteness of his genius; by the sulitlety
and the de])th of the most wide, the most hidden,
the most wonderful learning, this most subtle doctor

JAMES DURHAM.

521

surpasses all others, and, in my opinion, yields to no
writer of any a^e. His productions, the admiration
and despair even of the most learned among the
learned, beinj; of such extreme acuteness, that they
exercise, excite, and shaq^en even the brightest
talents to a more sublime knowledge of divine ob-
jects, it is no wonder that the most profound writers
join in one voice, 'that this Scot, beyond all con-
troversy, surpasses not only the contemporary theo-
logians, but even the greatest of ancient or modern
times, in the sublimity of his genius and the immen-
sity of his learning.' This subtle doctor was the
founder of the grand and most noble sect of the
Scotists, which, solely guided by his doctrine, has
so zealously taught, defended, amplified, and diffused
it, that, being spread all over the world, it is regarded
as the most illustrious of all. From this sect, like
heroes from the Trojan horse, many princes of science
have proceeded, whose labour in teaching has ex-
plained many difficulties, and whose industry in
writing has so much adorned and enlarged theo-
logical learning, tliat no further addition can be
expected or desired." Here is another specimen of
panegjTic : ".Scotus was so consummate a philo-
sopher, that he could have been the inventor of
philosophy, if it had not before existed. His know-
lenge of all the mysteries of religion was so profound
and perfect, that it was rather intuitive certainty
than belief. He described the divine nature as if
he had seen God; the attributes of celestial spirits
as if he had been an angel ; the felicities of a future
state as if he had enjoyed them; and the ways of
j-irovidence as if he had penetrated into all its secrets.
He wrote so many books that one man is hardly
able to read them, and no one man is able to under-
stand them. He would have written more, if he
had composed with less care and accuracy. Such
was our immortal Scotus, the most ingenious, acute,
and subtle of the sons of men." ^

These extracts may suftice to show the estimation,
or rather adoration, in which the Subtle Doctor was
once held; and it was not alone among his own
disciples that he was venerated; for Julius Ca:sar
Scaliger acknowledges, that in the perusal of John of
Dunse he acquired any sulnlety of discussion which
he might possess; and Cardan, one of the earliest
philosophers who broke the yoke of .Vristotle, classes
Scotus among his chosen twelve masters of profound
and subtle sciences. In comparing the enthusiastic
jjopularity in which .Scotus and his works were once
held with the undisturbed oblivion whicli they now
enjoy, the mini adverts to the fleeting nature of all,
even the most honourable, earthly aggrandizement.

DURHAM, James, "that singularly wise and
faithful servant of Jesus Christ," was by birth a gen-
tleman. He was descended from the family of
Grange-Durham, in the shire of .\ngus, and was
l^roprietor of the est.ate of Easter Powrie, now called
Wedderburn. From his age at the time of his death,
he appears to have been born in 1622. We have
but few memorials of his early life. Leaving college
before taking any degree, he retired to his jiaternal
C'^tate, where he lived for some years as a countrv
gentleman. Al an early period he married a daughter
o( the laird of I 'untarvic; and soon afterwards, while
on a visit to one of her relations, became deeply im-
pressed with religious feelings.'- On his return home

1 lirukori /iist. rhilos. torn. iii. p. S:rS.

* The f ill ') wing acrniint of hi^C'^nversion isKi^'enin^^'^rfrow's
A'taUcta MS. .-Xdv. Lib. : — " He w.xs young when he mar-
ried, and was not {or a whi'e concerned ab<'ut relijjion. He
came with his lady to visit his mother-in-law. the Lady Diin-
tar\ie, who Uved in the parish of the (^>uconsferry. There fell
at that time a coniinunion to be in the CJiieensferry. and SjC

he devoted himself almost wholly to study, in which
he made great proficiency, and we are told "became
not only an experimental Christian but a leame<l
man." He did not, however, contemplate becom-
ing a clergyman till the time of the civil wars, in
which he serve<l as a captain. C)n one occasion,
before joining battle with the English, he called his
company together to prayer. Mr. David Dickson
riding past, heard some one praying, drew near him,
and was much struck with what he heard, .\fter
the service was finished he charged him, that as
as soon as the action was over, he should devote
himself to the ministry, " for to that he judged the
Lord had called him." During the eng.agcment
Mr. Durham met with two remarkable deliverances,
and accordingly considered himself bound to olxjy
the stranger's charge, "as a testimony of his grateful
and thankful sen.se of the Lord's goodness and mercy
to him."

With this resolution he came to the college of
Glasgow, where he appears to have taken his
degree,^ and to have studied divinity under his cele-
brated friend David Dickson. The year 1647, in
which he received his license, was one of severe pes-
tilence. The masters and students of the university
removed to Irvine, where Mr. Durham underwent
his trials, and received a recommendation from his
professor to the presbytery and magistrates of Glas-
gow. Though now only about twenty-five years of
age, study and seriousness of disposition had already
given him the appearance of an old man. The ses-
sion of (jlasgow appointed one of their memlicrs to
request him to preach in their city, and after a short
period, "being abundantly satisfied with Mr. Dur-
ham's doctrine, and the gifts bestowed upon him by
the Lord, for serving him in the ministry, did unani-
mously call him to the ministrv' of the Ulackfriars'
Church, then vacant." Thither he removed in Novem-
ber the same year. In 1649 Mr. Durham had a press-
ing call from the town of Edinburgh, but the General
Assembly, to whom it was ultimately referred, refused
to allow his translation. In his ministerial labours
he seems to have exercised great patience and dili-
gence, nor was he wanting in that ]ilainness and
sincerity towards the rich and powerful, which is so
necessary t<> secure esteem. When the republican
army was at (ilasgow in 165 1, Cromwell came un-
expectedly on a .Sunday afternoon to the Outer High
Church, where Mr. Durham jireached "gr.-ciou,~ly
and well to the time as could have been desired,
according to Principal Baillie; in jilainer language.
" he preached again.it the invasion to his face."' The

the L.ady Duntanie desired her son-in-law. Mr. THirham. to po
and hear sermon upon the Saturday, and for >ome f.me l.c
wotild by no means go, till li^th his lady and his n,. ther-ir.-
law, with much importunity, at last prevailed with h-.iu t... ■^.■.
He went that day and heard very attentively; he scenx''. t >
be moved that d.-iy by the preacher being ver\- scri'i:^ in h;-
discourse, so tliat there w.as something wr^ 'Ught in Mr. 1 i'.;rh.r:i
that day; but it was like an embryo. When he c.'.ir.v b. me .le
said to his mother-in-law, ■Mother, ye h.-ti n,u^.'i a: •-■• z:l
me to the church this day: but I will g. .e t^'-n.- rr vuith' iit
vour importuning me.' lie went aw.iv ■ n the > ■; .' ■^'■'■•. n; r:;-
ing, .and heard the minister c f the pla^ e. w. rthy .Mr. L;.j.rair;i
Melvine, pre.ach the acti-n serm. n i:; :;. : !'•- i'- "■ ■■-''■'- -^''".
iJurham had these e.vi>res>' r.s a'; ■ ut !,i- 'cr:: :;: I'e C' ;r.-
mendcd him, he C'.mmendei! liini. again and. .ig.on. t:.. he n.a \-z
my heart and soul commend. h:i;;.' a:-.d s e he i:Timci;iat'..y
closed with Christ, and, C"ve;iar.te.!. and_ wen: c; un in.n;e-
diately to the table, and t. -c tb.e ~o.>! •{ the c ■vt.r.ai.t; .Tnd
.after that he b.ecair.e a n.o-; -■•r: '■.;- n.^r..

" See Letter i f i'rmci;:.! lU.ioe m M Trc's ihs:cf" r? C'.ts-
ft^c. ed. iS;o, p. ;'4.

* Wudrow's Li/r ,/P:\i^-':. M^. p, xi.x. In the .;•.■!.', .'j
of this historian occurs tb.e (■'.'. u;.".- ■'■.■ri ;~ ; tr;i ■..'.:,r~:

'■ tells me he ha i ti:is aLC ■.:::t fr n ■ Id .XiKenhe.v:.

who had it from the gentlew. man. that Cr inweo . ame :n
t.. Cil.'isc 'W. with - ?;'.e .t'y.;s,rTio._r~. up- n a >ab:.-;th-.:ay. ar. i
can;e ^t^.^.^l 1:.: the H;.;h Churji, where Mr. D;.::i..::; w:^

522

JAMES DURHAM JOHN DURY.

story is thus concluded by his biographer: — " Next
day Cromwell sent for Mr. Durham, and told him,
that he always thought Mr. Darham had been a
more wise and prudent man than to meddle with
matters of public concern in his sermons. To which
Mr. Durham answered, that it was not his practice
to bring public matters into the pulpit, but that he
judged it both wisdom and prudence in iiim to speak
his mind upon that head, seeing he had the oppor-
tunity of doing it in his own hearing. Cromwell
dismissed him very civilly, but desired him to forbear
insisting upon that subject in public. And at the
same time, sundry ministers both in town and country
met with Cromwell and his officers, and represented
in the strongest manner the injustice of his inva-
sion.'"

In the year 1650, when Mr. Dickson became pro-
fessor of divinity at Edinburgh College, the commis-
sioners for visiting that of Glasgow, appointed by
the General Assembly, unanimously called Mr.
Durham to the vacant chair. But before he was
admitted to this office, the assembly nominated him
chaplain to the king's family; a situation in which,
tliough trying, more especially to a young man, he
conducted himself with great gravity and faithfulness.
While he conciliated the affections of the courtiers,
he at the same time kept them in awe; "and when-
ever," says his biographer, "he went about the
duties of his place, they did all carry gravely, and
did forbear all lightness and profanity." The dis-
position of Charles, however, was little suited to the
simplicity and unostentatious nature of the Presby-
terian worship, and although Mr. Durham may
have obtained his respect, there is little reason to
believe that he liked the check which his presence
imposed.

Livingston mentions that Mr. Durham offered to
accompany the king when he went to Worcester — •
an offer which, as may have been anticipated, was
not accepted. The session of Glasgow, finding that
he was again at liberty, wrote a letter to him at
-Stirling, in which they expressed the warmest feel-
ings towards him. "We cannot tell," say they,
"how much and how earnestly we long once more
to see your face, and to hear a word from you, from
whose mouth the Lord has often blessed the same,
for our great refreshment. We do, therefore, with
all earnestness request and beseech you, that you
would, in the interim of your retirement from attend-
ance upon that charge (that of king's chaplain), let
the town and congregation, once and yet dear to you,
who dare not quit their interest in you, nor look on
that tie ancl relation betwixt you and them as dis-
sulved and null, enjoy the comfort of your sometimes

preaching. Thf; first seat that offered him w.as P[rovost]
Purterfield's, where Miss Porterfield sat, and she, seeing him
.an English officer, she was almost not civil. However, he got
in and sat with .Miss Porterfield. After sermon was over, he
asked the minister's name. She sullenly enough told liim, and
desired to know wherefore he asked. He said, 'because he
perceived him to be a very great man, and m his opinion might
be chaplain to any prince in Europe, though he had never
seen him nor heard of him before. She inquired about him,
and found it w.is O. Cromwell."

' Life prefixed to Treatise concerning Scandal. Cromwell
seems to have received "great plainness of speech" at the
hands of the ministers of Glasgow. On a fi)rnier occasion
2achary lioyd had railed on him to his face in the High
Church: on the present, we .are informed, that "on .Sunday,
before noon, he c ime unexpectedly to the High Inner Church,
where he ([uietly heard Mr. Robert Ramsay preach a very
good honest sermon, pertinent for his case. In the afternoon
he came as unexpectedly to the High Outer Church, where he
heard Mr. John Carstairs lecture, and Mr. James Durham
preach graciously, and well to the time, .as could have been
desired, (ienerally, all who preached th.at day in the town
gave a fair enougli. tcsti»iony againsi i/w sectaries." — Baillic,
lit supra.

very comfortable fellowship and ministr}'." From
the letter it would appear, that Mr. Durham did not
yet consider himself released from his appointment
in the king's family; but with the battle of Worcester
terminated all the fond hopes of the royalists. Find-
ing the household thus broken up, there could be
no objection to his returning to his former residence.
He is mentioned as present in the session in April,
and it was at this period that his interview with
Cromwell took place, but for several months after-
wards he seems to have withdrawn. In August
a vacancy in the Inner High Church arose from the
death of Mr. Robert Ramsay, and Mr. Durham was
earnestly requested to accept the charge. He ac-
cordingly entered upon it in the course of the same
year (1651), having for his colleague Mr. John Car-
stairs, his brother-in-law by his second marriage,
and father of the afterwards celebrated principal of
the university of Edinburgh. {See article C ARSTA IRS.)
In the divisions which took place between the re-
solutioners and protesters, Mr. Durham took neither
side. W'hen the two parties in the synod of Glas-
gow met separately, each elected him their mode-
rator, but he refused to join them until they should
unite, and a junction fortunately took place. The
habits of severe study in which he had indulged since
his entry into the ministry seem to have brought
on a premature decay of his constitution. After
several months of confinement, he died on the 25th
of June, 1658, at the early age of thirty-six.^

Mr. Durham's first marriage has been noticed in
the early part of this sketch. His second wife was
the widow of the famous Zachary Boyd, and third
daughter of William Mure of Glanderston in Ren-
frewshire. This lady seems to have survived him
many years, and to have been a zealous keeper of
conventicles. Several of her sufferings on this ac-
count are noticed by Wodrow in his History.

It would be tiresome to the reader to enter into a
detail of Mr. Durham's different works, and their
various editions. He has long been, and still con-
tinues, one of the most popular religious writers in
Scotland.^

DURIE, Lord. See Gibson, Sir Alexander.

DURY, John. This clergyman, who Mas of
some note during the religious contentions of the
seventeenth century, was Ijorn in Scotland, and edu-
cated for the ministry. In 1624 he went to Oxford,
that he might avail himself of the advantages of
the public library; and when the time was rij^ened
for the accomplislnnent of what he considered his
especial mission, he told his ecclesiastical superiors
that he could serve the interests of religion better by
travelling through the world than confining himself
to one flock. His aim was to effect an agreement
among the different Protestant churches; and his
mind was stored with those arguments in favour of
concord which he thought would prove irresistible.
His proposal was favourably received, and his cru-

' " Mr. Durham was a person of the outmost composure and
gravity, and it was much made him smile. In some great man's
house. .Mr. William Guthry and he were together at dinner,
and Mr. Guthry was exceeding merry, and made Mr. Durham
smile, yea laugh, at his pleasant facetious conversation. It
was the ordinary of the family to pray after dinner, and im-
mediately after their mirth it was put upon Mr. Guthry to
pray, and as he was wont, he fell immediately into the greatest
measure of seriousnesse and fervency, to the astonishment and
moving of all present. When he rose from prayer, Mr. Dur-
ham came to him and embraced him, and said, 'O! Will, you
are a happy man. If I had been soe daft as you have been, I
could not liave been seriouse, nor in any frame, for forty-eight
hours." — Wodrow's Ana. iii. 133.

^ .-Xbrirlged from a Memoir of Durham prefixed to his
Treatise concerning Scandat. Glas. 1740, I2niu.

JOHN DURV.

523

sade recommended by several influential ecclesiastics,
among whom was Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury,
while he was assisted by Bedel, Bishop of Kilmore,
and Dr. Joseph Hall, Bishop of Exeter.

In 1634, Dury, after publishing his plan of union,
commenced his active operations; but as these could
scarcely be otherwise than unsuccessful, a brief notice
of them may suffice. In the year above mentioned
he attended a famous assembly of the evangelical
churches of Germany at Frankfort. In the same
year, also, the churches of Transylvania sent him
their advice and counsel. From this period until
1 66 1 he seems to have been employed in incessant
action, moving in every direction, negotiating with
the clergy of Denmark and Sweden, consulting the
universities, and communicating their answers; and
although, after so much labour, the prospect of reli-
gious union appeared as hopeless as ever, he neither
abandoned hope, nor remitted in his exertions. The
elasticity of belief, however, which such an enterprise "
was calculated to create, was manifested in his own
career: as a Presbyterian, he was one of the members
of the Assembly of Divines, and one of the preachers
before the Long Parliament, but subsequently he
became an Independent. But let him change or
accommodate his creed as he might, his purpose
remained unchanged ; and, directing his pilgrimage
to Germany, he previously applied to the clergy of
Utrecht for an authentic testimony of their good in-
tentions towards his scheme of religious accommoda-
tion; and, to encourage them, he informed tliem of
the hopeful state in which he had left the affair with
the King of (}reat Britain and the Elector of Bran-
denburg, of what had been transacted at the court of
Hesse, and the measures which had actually been
taken at Geneva, Heidelberg, and Metz. Having
obtainetl from tiie clergy of Utreclit the desired testi-
monial, which he might show to the Germans, he
annexed it to a Latin work which he puljlisheil in
l66i at Amsterdam, under the title of Johaiuiis
Dum Ircnicorum Tractatmtm rrodrotnits, &c. Hav-
ing visited Germany, and l)eing at Frankfort in April,
1662, his conversation with some gentlemen at Metz
al)out M. Ferri, an amiable enthusiast of their city,
who, like himself, lalioured to reconcile religious
differences, inspired him with the resolution to visit
Metz; but here two difficulties occurred — he must
accommo<late himself to the fashions of the place by
shaving off his large white square beanl, and tlress-
ing himself in the French costume. These, however,
important though they might appear to otliers, were
small (iiliiculties to one who for the sake of a rigliteous
enterprise was willing to l;)ecome all things to all
men; and on his arrival at Metz, M. Ferri was so
transported with the distinction which such a visit
conferred upon him, that he went out to meet Dury
in a "complete undress." [Such is the phrase used
by his biographer, l)ut its meaning we cannot clearly
imderstand.] The delight of that meeting was
mutual, and the good men had a long conference
upon the subject of religious union whicli eacli had
so much at lieart.

In tiiis l)rief summary we have comprised the his-
tory of tlie labour of firty years, at the end of which
Dury found that he had only sowed the wind and
reaped the whirlwind. The religious world was as

little prepared for conviction by argument in the
seventeenth century as it had been by the sword of
Charles \'. in the sixteenth ; and the Lutheran and
Calvinistic churches were still as far apart and still
as irreconcilable as ever. Thus Dury found them
in 1674, when the fire of his enterprise was exhausted,
and when he was too old to work. It was only
then also that his bold heart yielded to the convic-
tion that all had been done in vain. Still hoix-ful,
however, that truth would ultimately i)revail, and
the world, although at a rem<jte jieriod, be at one,
Dury suspected that he had gone tlie wrong way to
work, and hastened to change his tactics. It was no
longer the union merely of the Calvinistic and Lu-
theran churches which he sought, but of all the
Christian churches at large, an(l this he conceived
might be best effected by giving a new exposition of
the Apocalypse. This he did in a little treatise
written in French, and published at Frankfort in
1674. It was his last morsel of bread cast upon the
waters, and he hoped it might appear and be available
on earth after he had passed to the more perfect
union in heaven. He had now, however, obtained
an honourable shelter, where he could spend the re'^t
of his days in comfort, and die in jieace. This was
from Hedwig .Sophia, Princess of Hesse, and regent
of the principality, who assigned him a commodious
lodging, with a liberal table, and a free postage for
his letters, so that he might carry on his extensive
correspondence; and here he died, but in what year
we are unable to discover. Of the piety and sin-
cerity of Dury there can be no doubt, whatever may
be thought of his wisdom and discretion. The world
as yet was not fully aware of the difficulty of reconcil-
ing contending churches; and he failed by prematurely
attempting to accomplish what our own day is still
unable to effect. Much writing as well as travelling
occupied his long and active life; and his publishei,!
works, of whicli the following is a li.^t, show the
shades and changes of opinion which his mind under-
went in his impossible work of reconciling all parties
to one standard: — Consiiltatio 7'/tioloi^ica sufer .Vc^o-
tio Pacis I'.iclcsiast. Lond. 1641, 4to. — .-/ Summary
Discourse coticcriiiu; the Work of Peace Ecclesiastual.
Camb. 1641. — Petition to the House of Comntois for
the Preset-iatiou of True Peli;^!Oit. Lond. 1642, 410.- —
Certain Consuierations, shtncin.^theXeeessityofa Cor-
res/'onJency in Spiritual Matters hetioixt all Professed
Chui-ehes. Lond. 1642, 4to. — Epistolary Discourse to
Thomas Godwin. Phil. Xye,and Sam. llartlth. Lond.
1644, 4to. Of Presl'vtery and Independency, iNic.
1646, 410. — Model of the Church Government. 1647,
4to. — Peace makes the Gospel Way. 1648. 410. — .SV,?-
sonahle Discourse for Reformation. 1649, 410. — ./;.'
Epistolary Discourse to Air. Thomas 7'her,Ke.;ecd cen-
cernin^ his Conjecture that the Americans are de-
scended from the Israelites, ^;c. 1649, 410. — Ccr-
siderations concernin.^ the E.iv.;ai:emeiit, 1650. 7. ■.■.'-■;
two other Pamphlets on the same Subject, in a/:r:< cr : •
an Antaifonist. — The Peformed Schee'. IO50. I2ino,
with a Supplement in l'6^l. — The A' fcrmca' In'rarv
Keeper, 1650, l2nio, to which is ai'ldod /u'/ji't/.e a
Duels Pruno-eicensis et I.unen' ur^'i et II c.jar ut.'.i.
— Conscience Eased. \c. i6:;i, .^[n.—EarKctl'lcaK r
Gosf-cl Communion. \(^}.\.—Su'!:m^ry Piaf.riii.f
Diiir.ity. n;-.

COLONEL EDMONDS

EARL OF ELGIN.

EDMONDS, Colonel. This gallant soldier of
fortune, who was born in Stirling about the close of
tlie sixteenth century, was of humble origin, being
the son of a baker (or as it was called, a baxter) in
that ancient town. While a young boy, he ran away
from his ])arents, from what cause is not recorded,
and after finding his way to the Low Countries, en-
listed as a common soldier in the army of Maurice,
Prince of Orange. In this capacity he so highly
distinguished himself by his valour and good conduct,
that at last he attained the rank of colonel. After
he had risen to this distinguished position, he was one
day in company with several of his fellow-officers,
Avhen a man came to him who spoke Scotch. Edmonds,
warming at the sound, was eager to hear tlie last
news from Scotland, upon which the man, desirous
of securing the colonel's favour, answered, "Your

cousin, my lord , is well, also your cousin ;"

and afterwards followed a string of high-titled names,
all of whom the rogue made out to be the colonel's
near kinsmen. Indignant at this device to ennoble
him among strangers, where the fraud miglit have
jiassed unquestioned, Edmonds sharply rebuked the
fellow, ordered him out of his presence, and then
told the brilliant company that he had no such high
relationship, but was nothing more than the son of
a poor baxter of Stirling.

Having won fortune as well as military rank, the
colonel returned to his own country; but although
now a man of some mark, the same proud humility
still aliode with him. On returning to .Stirling, the
magistrates and some of the principal inhabitants
went out to meet him, and conduct him to his lodg-
ings; but he would reside in no house but that of his
]>arents, who were still alive. When the Earl of
Mar also invited him to dinner or to supper, he re-
fused, unless his father and mother were also invited,
and placed above him at talkie.

In public spirit and liberality to his native town,
I-^dmonds was not wanting. Among his other deeds
<>{ this nature, he either wholly built, or materially
enlarged the manse of .Stirling, a large three-storied
edifice, having tlie baker's arms placed on tlie east
enrl of tlie liuilding; and tliis manse continued until
1S24, when it was taken down. He also presented
the pair of colours wliich the town afterwards used
in its public meetings anrl jirocessions. The date
of his death is unknown. His daughter married Sir
Thomas Livingston (jf Jerviswood, Hart.; and her
eldest son of the same name was colonel of a regi-
ment of dragoons, a ])rivy-councillor, commander-
in-chief in Scotland, and finally raised to the jK-erage
by William III. in 169S, under the title of \'isc()unt
Teviot; but as lie died without issue, the title be-
came extinct.

ELGIN, Earl ok. As a Scottish nobleman, this
eminent statesman is entitled to a place in our records,
althougli his birth-jilace was not in Scotland. James
iJruce, eighth Earl of Elgin and twelfth ICarl of Kin-
cardine, was born in London on the 20th of July,
iSl I, and was the eldest son of Thomas, the siventh
y.avl of Elgin, by his second marriage with I'^lizabcth,
daughter of James Townshend Oswald of 1 hinnikier,
I'ife^hire. He was educated first at Eton, and after-
wards at Christ Church, at which the late Marrpiis
of iJalhousie, Lord Canning, Lord Her!)ert of Lea,

and Mr. Gladstone were his fellow-collegians; and
while a student at the university, he was known by
the title of Lord Bruce, his father being still alive.
His proficiency as a scholar was attested by his being
of the first-class in classics in 1832, after which he
became a fellow of Merton College. His public and
political life did not commence until he had reached
the ripe age of thirty, when, in 1841, he entered
parliament as member for Southampton, and a
supporter of Sir Robert Feel. In the same year,
by the death of his father, he succeeded to the
earldom ; but, being a Scottish peer, he could
still retain his seat in the House of Commons;
this, however, he resigned in 1842, in consequence
of being appointed to the governor-generalship of
Jamaica.

In 1846 more important political duties awaited
the Earl of Elgin. At this time our important colony
of Canada had many grievances both real and im-
aginary to complain of; but the greatest of all was
the apprehended passing of the corn-law bill, at that
time under the consideration of the imperial parlia-
ment. vShould the bill pass into law, the principle
of protection would be annihilated, and that of
"buying in the cheapest market" be established in
its room. In this case, how would the interests of
Canada be affected? It was feared, that if the dif-
ferential duties on the iinport of colonial and foreign
grain into Great Britain should be abolished, it would
be impossible for the colony to compete with the
United States. This the colonists represented in an
earnest petition to her majesty, expressed in the fol-
lowing words: — " Situated as Canada is, and with a
climate so severe as to leave barely one half of the
year open for intercourse by the St. Lawrence with
the mother country, the cost of transporting her pro-
ducts to market is much greater than is paid by the
inhal)itants of the United States; and, without a
measure of protection or some equivalent advantage,
we cannot successfully compete with that country."
A hint of a bolder and more significant character
followed: — "It is much to be feared," the jietition
added, "that should the inhabitants of Cana<la, from
the withdrawal of all jirotection to their slajile pro-
ducts, find that they cannot successfully conijiete
with their neiglibours of the United States in the only
market open to them, they will naturally and of
necessity begin to doubt whether remaining a jiortion
of the British empire will be of that jiaramount ad-
vantage which they have hitherto found it to be.''
Between the urgency of the corn-bill at hmneandthe
threat of secession held out by the most inqxn-tant of
our colonies, the I'rilish ministry were in a great
dilemma; and their choice of Lord h^lgin to settle
the difficulty shows the esteem in \\hicli he was held,
and the confidence that was reposed in him. In
1S46 he was ap]iointed governor of Canada, and he
cheerfully un<lertook the difficult commission. It is
not our pur]iose to enter into the history of his
government during the eight years over which it
extended: it is enough to state that it was one of
firmness tempered with peaceful conciliation, and
that it was sufficient for the crisis. Adojiting the
policy of his father-in-law. Lord Durham, he \>rc-
servcd a neutrality between all jiartics that naturally
made him the umpire f)f them all; and he secured
their confidence, liy promoting the welfare of all

EARL OF ELGIN.

S2S

alike in developing the commercial and agricultural
interests of the colony. This conduct, and the sub-
stantial benefits that accrued from it, were of such
a pacificatory character, that the colonists no longer
talked of secession from the mother state, while at
home his services were so justly appreciated, that
in 1849 he was raised to the British peerage by the
title of Baron Elgin of Elgin.

Scarcely had his lordship rested at home on his
return from Canada, when a new commission awaited
him. Our wonted quarrels with the Chinese had
broken out into a regular war, and although the
enemy was contemptible in an open field, the result
of such a contest was doubtful, more especially as
the Europeans composed but a handful, while the
Chinese are supposed to constitute nearly a third of
the whole human race. The contest, also, on the
part of the enemy, had been aggravated by the per-
fidy and barbarities of the notorious Yeh, the imperial
commissioner. To bring such an unpleasant war to
a speedy termination, the British government re-
solved to send a plenipotentiary to China, armed
not only with full authority to negotiate a peace,
but, if necessary, with military resources to compel
it; and for this important double office Lord Elgin
was selected. He set sail for our Chinese settlement
at Hong-Kong, wiiich he reached in the beginning
of July, 1857; but on the voyage had been met at
.Singapore with tidings of the sudden outburst of the
Indian mutiny, and a request from Lord Canning,
the governor-general, to send him whatever troops
he could spare. As the loss of our Indian empire
was imminent, and would have been fatal to Britain,
Lord Elgin complied. Soon after, on finding that
the mutiny had attained greater magnitude, he fol-
lowed in person with additional troops from Hong-
Kong, wisely judging that in such an emergency the
Chinese war was an affair of trivial moment. It was
necessary, indeed, that our handful of troops in India
should be reinforced with every bayonet that could
be spared, when the whole country had risen in arms
against them. Having thus done wjiat he could for
the preservation of our Indian empire. Lord Elgin
returned to Hong-Kong, and addressed himself with
diminished resources to the objects of his Chinese
mission. It was soon fuund, however, that negotia-
tions were useless, on account of the delays and
duplicity of the Chinese statesmen, and his lordship
was obliged to have recourse to his ultimate argu-
ment, i'his he could the more effectually do, as he
had been joined by a French naval and land force,
and was seconded by the representatives of Russia
and the United States, who had a common interest
in the cjuarrel. Hostilities were commenced by a
movement of the English and French armaments into
the Canton River; the large island of Honan, situated
in the river and opposite Canton, was occu])ied by
the confederate European troops, and Canton itself
was bombarded and taken. These sharp measures,
and the consciousness of the Chinese that they were
no match for the " liarbarians" in the arts of war,
compelled them to a humiliating peace, by the terms
of which trade was opened between China and
I'urope, and the property, safety, and rights of the
foreigners in China guaranteed. -Ml was granted
which Lord Elgin ilemanded; and, after this success-
ful embassy, he turned his attention to tlie neigh-
bouring empire of Japan, from which a still stricter
jealousy than that wliich ]irevailed in China had
hitherto excludcil not only European commerce, but
European visitors. To obtain the ojiening of its
ports to our tratlic was the ]iurpose of his visit, while
the apology for liis entrance into the Japanese waters
was, tliat he was commissioned to present a steam-

yacht from the Queen of Great Britain to the Emperor
of Japan. He persisted aUo in conveying this gift
of his royal mistress to Jeddo, the capital, notwith-
standing the endeavours of the Japanese to arrest his
progress, but they were awed into compliance by the
sight of the formidable steamships of war by which
the British ambassador was attended. He and his
suite were welcomed on shore, anfi the result of this
embassy was a treaty of peace, friendship, and com-
merce between the Tycoon of Japan and the (,)ueen
of (ireat Britain, which was ratified at Jeddo, July
nth, 1859. Although these treaties lx)th with China
and Japan were as much owing to force as persua-
sion, and were made with two great nations who
would be certain to reject them as soon as an oppor-
tunity occurred, the blame is not to be imputed to
Lord Elgin. All that prudence, wisdom, and .skilful
diplomacy could effect with a people so insincere, he
had used on the occasion; and it became the business
of his government to see that they were kept inviolate,
and to punish their infraction. It was much, also,
that two such vast empires, hitherto so inaccessible
for ages, and which, on that account, had become
"dead seas of man," should be opened to European
intercourse and civilization, although this entrance
had been so rough, and might prove to be nothing
more than a commencement of the attempt.

Events in China soon showed that there at least
nothing more than a commencement had been ma'le.
One of the conditions of the late treaty was, that a
British minister and his suite should be permanently
established at Pekin; and for this office of envoy
extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary', the
Honourable Mr. Biuce, brother of the Earl of
Elgin, to whom this treaty was mainly owing, was
ap|>ropriately nominated to the oflice. Every pre-
caution also was adopted to spare the sensitive pride
and suspicion of the Chinese, and, by the advice of
Lord Elgin, Mr. Bruce was instructed by our govem-
ment to fix the residence of the British mission at
.Shanghai, and only require that it should be received
occasionally at Pekin. His right, however, to reside
permanently in the capital was to be recognized, by
his repairing to Pekin, presenting his credentials to
the emperor in person, and obtaining their recogni-
tion— and forestalling the obstacles that would be
thrown in his way, the British admiral commanding
our naval forces in China was appointed to enter the
mouth of the Peiho, and secure the safety of the
mission to Pekin. And then commenced those diffi-
culties and delays by which llie Chinese had re-
solved to reduce the treaty to a deaddetter. Mr.
Bruce, on reaching .Shanghai with the French pleni-
potentiar}', was met with a proposal from the Chinese
government to have tlie ratifications of the treaty
exchanged at that place instead of Pekin; and, on the
refusal of the and)a.-.sadors. it was proposed that they
should travel from Shanghai to Pekin by land, a
journey of two months, instead of going to the ca|vt.-!
by the river Peiho. But they adojited t!:e latter
mode of transit, and the Chinese fi'rtified the river
against them. The disasters tliat befell the Pritidi
squadron in its attempts to f irce the ] a--age "t tlie
Peiho are too well known to require funlier mention:
their attacks both liy land and water «ere ('.efeated.
and the over-eonfirlont ir.va'ier- \v ere tir:v(.n ba(.k
with considerable loss, a:;d sti".! L,-re.-.:er 'ii-jrace. to
Shanghai.

On' the arrival of tho~e ti'iiiiL;^ i:i Fr.,:,-!and. it was
felt that not a ni^iinern sh.-ul i be ]■<< in our en-
deavours to ret air tlie .li~a~;er. and that n..iie was so
fit f>r the j.ur; o~e as t!ie Pari of i-i'-in. He was
therefore once ii'.ore a; ] -inted P.iitid^. jilenii^. .ler.tia'ry
in China; and ace .iiqa-aied by Bar.u Grus, the

526

EARL OF ELGIN.

ambassador from France, he set sail in an English
frigate, the Malabar, for China. Stopping on their
way, however, at the Point de Galle, in Ceylon, the
shij) ran upon a reef of sunken rocks, and was wrecked,
while the calamity was so sudden and unexpected
that both the French and English plenipotentiary
were well nigh involved in the ruin. After this
narrow escape, they proceeded in another ship to
Ciiina, and reached Shanghai on the 2ist of June,
iS6o. From the ships and troops placed at their
disposal by the French and English governments,
they were now in a condition to punish the Chinese
for their late outrage, and compel them to renew the
violated treaty, while their ultimatum was nothing
less than the right of both missions to reside in the
Chinese capital. It is unnecessary to particularize
the hostile movements both by land and water, and
the encounters that took place with the Chinese, in
preparing the advance of the embassy to the capital;
it is enough to state, that in every encounter the
Chinese troops were made to feel that they were
unequally matched against the soldiers of Europe.
Nor were these the only obstacles to the onward
progress of Lord Elgin, for the Chinese diplomatists
carried on at the same time a war of crafty negotia-
tion, by which they endeavoured to outwit him.
Pretending a desire for peace, they sent commis-
sioners to arrange the terms; but when everything
was ready for settlement, it was found tliat all this
was done merely to occasion delay. But this was
not all: joining cruelty to perfidy, they attacked a
body of the English commissioners whom they in-
vited to a peaceful conference, overpowered them,
threw them into prison, and treated them with such
barbarity as is seldom paralleled even among savages.
To free these captives from their bonds, as well as
to punish such treachery, it was necessary to carry
the war into the heart of Pekin; and to show that
they were in earnest, the united French and English
troops, on the 6th of October, attacked in their march
the summer-palace of the emperor, and subjected it
to indiscriminate and ignominious plunder. Two
days afterwards, the British prisoners were set free;
but this reparation was only partial, and came too
late, and on the I2th every preparation was finished
for the bombardment of Pekin. The emperor him-
self had previously left the capital under the pretext
of a hunting expedition, the government officials
were terrified and perplexed, and nowhere was there
concert for resistance even had such a purpose been
entertained. Pekin therefore surrendered at the
summons; and one of the most populous of the
cartli's cities, the capital of the proudest of govern-
ments, was in the hands of a small invading force,
with the l)anners of France and England floating
triumphantly upon its walls. After this huml)ling
surrender. Lord Elgin thought enough h.ad been
inflicted; but it was now only that he learned the full
amount of Chinese cruelty that had been inflicted
upon the prisoners so treacherously surprised and
cajitured. Of these, twenty-six in number, only
thirteen had been restored alive, but so marked l)y
the cruelties they had undergone, that to some of
them life could only be a burden; the rest had been
murdered, with circumstances of atrocity too h<jrrible
to be mentioned. Although Pekin was spared ac-
cording to the ]jrevious treaty, he was resolved that
such barbarity should not go unpunished; and as the
government had sanctioned the deed, it was upon it
that the chastisement should fall. The summer-
palace of the emperor, lately plundered, and in which
several of the captives had been confined and tor-
tured, was therefore selected for the cxamydc; and,
acting upon his own responsibility, as the French

ambassador shunned any partnership in the affair.
Lord Elgin commanded that this stately building
should be burned to the ground. He also inflicted
a fine of 300,000 taels to be paid as compensation to
the families of the murdered men, and to those per-
sons who had survived their imprisonment. Eight
millions of taels were to be paid by the Chinese
government as an indemnity to England and France
for the expenses of the war, and the articles of the
former treaty into which his lordship had entered
with China in 1858 were ratified with additional
strictness. There was no longer any demur expressed
about the residence of a British representative in
Pekin.

The successful termination of this difficult Chinese
undertaking, and the courage and prudence with
which it was conducted, justified the apjiointment of
Lord Elgin to a still higher office, which almost
immediately succeeded. This was to be governor-
general of India in the room of the late Lord Canning.
The difficulties of the office were so trying, and its
duties so arduous, that these, combined with the
nature of the climate, were enough to deter any
statesman, more especially if he was independent of
office, or had the prospect of advancement at home.
But Lord Elgin was not to be held back by such
personal considerations when duty summoned him
to the task. His friends, indeed, had their mis-
givings, when they remembered how two of his
predecessors, both of whom had been his class-
fellows at college, had succumbed to the toils of
office and the exhausting effects of the climate, and
had died before their day; but they hoped that his
lordship's case might prove a happy exception, more
especially as he was still in little more than the prime
of life, and had become inured to the liarness of
political labour. The discontent of India also had
been exhausted in the mutiny, and its numerous
tribes and nations had laid the cliastisement of its
suppression to heart. This his lordship felt as soon
as he had assumed office, so that his principal care
was to develop the resources of the country, and
promote the industiy of the people. The history of
his rule in India was therefore one of peace, neither
provoking contests nor acquiring territory, and its
unostentatious character was well rewarded by tlie
substantial benefits which it everywhere created.
India, indeed, needed such a Nunia, after the fierce
wars by which it had been so nidely shaken. But
too soon this promise of prosperity to so many mil-
lions imderhis beneficent administration was brought
to a close. In the autunni of 1863 he set out on a
tour of inspection of the north of India, with the
intention of visiting Cashmere, accomj^anied by Lady
Elgin, and attended l)y his secretaries and other
government officials. On the 13th of November he
had ascended on foot one of the passes of the Hima-
layas; but the unwonted fatigue was followed by a
severe illness, which threw him upon a sick-lied at a
secluded hamlet called the Dhurumsala. From that
bed he was never more to rise, and his last liours are
thus described in \\\q. Bombay Times: — "L'lMothe
19th his lordship was quite conscious, fully aware of
his state, and perfectly composed. He made every
earthly ])reparation for his dcjiarture. He made his
will; gave injunctions that he should be buried at
Dhunmisalah; directed Colonel Strachey to design
a tomb for his remains; ap])roved of the design \\hen
submitted to him; dictated the words of the telegrams
that he ordered to be despatched to England, con-
veying the expression of his duty to his queen, and
the retjuest that her majesty would ajipoint his suc-
cessor; gave instructions respecting the return of his
family to England; took leave of his family, and

"/J-

LORD ELIBANK

GEORGE AUGUSTUS ELLIOT.

527

waited till his end came. His death," the same
authority adds, "is a great loss to the British empire:
to British India, at such a time as the present, it is
a loss which seems irreparable." The character of
Lord Elgin as a statesman and as governor-general
of India is thus briefly but justly summed up in the
Times newspaper, when announcing his decease: —
"He has fallen in harness; but he has had the satis-
faction of seeing India grow in prosperity under his
rule, and hold out expectations which for years past
we have not dared to entertain. All through his
life he was successful in his undertakings, and he was
successful to the last. He owed thai success not so
much to great genius as to good sense, to social tact,
and to a love of hard, steady work. "

The Earl of Elgin was twice married. His first
wife, Elizabeth Mary, daughter of C. L. Gumming
of Rose-isle, Stirlingshire, died in 1 843, while he
was governor of Jamaica, leaving him one daughter.
His second wife was Lady Mary Louisa Lambton,
daughter of the Earl of Durham, by whom the Earl
of Elgin had three sons and a daughter. The eldest
of these sons, Victor Alexander Lord Bruce, suc-
ceeded him in the earldom.

EUBANK, Lord. See Murr.\y, Tatrick.

ELLIOT, George Augtjstus, Lord Heathfield,
a distinguished military officer, was the ninth son of
Sir Gilbert Elliot of Stobbs in Roxburghshire, and
born about the year 1718. He received his educa-
tion, first at home under the charge of a family tutor,
and afterwards at Leyden, where he acquired a per-
fect and colloquial knowledge of the French and
German languages. Being destined for the army,
he was placed at the military school of La Fere, in
Picardy, which was the most celebrated in Europe,
and conducted at that time by Vauban, the famous
enijineer. He afterwards served for some time as a
volunteer in the Prussian army, which was then con-
sidered the XyiiiX practical school of war. Returning
in his seventeenth year, he was introduced by his
father to Lieutenant-colonel Peei^s of the 23(1 foot or
Rciyal Welsh Fusileers, which was then lying at
Ediiiburgli. Sir Gilbert i^resented him as a youth
anxious to bear arms for his king and counlr)' ; and
he accordingly entered the regiment as a volunteer.
Having served for upwards of a twelvemonth, dur-
ing which he displayed an uncommon zeal in his
profession, he was removed to the engineer corps at
Woolwich, and was making great progress in tlie
studies reiiuisite for that branch of service, when his
uncle. Colonel Elliot, introduced him as adjutant
of the 2d troop of horse-grenadiers. His exertions
in this situation laid the foundation of a discipline
which afterwards rendered the two troops of horse-
grenadiers the finest corps of heavy cavalry in
Euroj^e. In the war which ended in 1748 he
served witli his regiment in many actions — among
tlie rest, tlie battle of Dettingcn, in which he was
wounded. After successively purcliasing the cap-
taincy, m.ijority, and lieutenant-colonelcy of his
regiment, he resigned his place in the engineer
corps, notwith^tan^Iing that he had already studied
gunnery and other matters connected with the ser-
vice, to a degree wliieh few have ever attained He
was now di^lingiii>hed so higliiy for his zeal and
acquirements, lliat George II. aiijiointed him one
of Ids aides-de-camp. In 1759 he quitted tlie 2d
regiment of horse-grenadiers, having been selected
to raise, form, and discipline tlie first regiment of
light horse, called after him, l^llidl's. This regiment
was brought l)y liiin to sucli a pitch of activity and
discipline, as to be held uji a> a jiattern to all tlie
Other drag"jn reginients raised for nianv vears after-

wards. Colonel Elliot, indeed, may be described
as a perfect military enthusiast. His habits of life
were as rigorous as those of a religious ascetic. His
food was vegetables, his drink water. He neither
indulged himself in animal footl nor wine. He
never slept more than four hours at a time, so that
he was up later and earlier than most other men.
It was his constant endeavour to make his men as
abstemious, hardy, and vigilant as himself; and it is
stated that habit at last rendered them so, without
their feeling it to be a hardship. It might have lx;en
expected, from such a character, that he would also
be a stem and unscrupulous soldier ; but the reverse
was the case. He was sincerely anxious, by acts of
humanity, to sofien the horrors of war. In the ex-
pedition to the coast of France which took place
near the close of the Seven Years' war, he had the
command of the cavalry, with the rank of brigadier-
general. In the memorable expedition against the
Havannah, he was second in command. After a
desperate siege of nearly two months, during which
the British suffered dreadfully from the climate, the
city, which was considered as the key to all the
Spanish dominions in the West Indies, was taken
by storm. The .Spanish general, Lewis de Velasco,
had displayed infinite firmness in his defence of this
fortress, as well as the most devoted braveiy at its
conclusion, having fallen amidst heaps of slain, while
vainly endeavouring to repel the final attack. Elliot
appears to have been forcibly struck by the gallant
conduct of Velasco, and to have resolved upon ren-
dering it a model for his own conduct under similar
circumstances. After the jieace his regiment was
reviewed by the king (George HI.) in Ilyde Park,
when they presented to his majesty the standards
taken from the enemy. The king, gratified with
their high character, asked General Elliot what mark
of his favour he could bestow on his regiment equal
to their merits. He answered that his regiment
would be proud, if his majesty should think that, by
their services, they were entitled to the distinction
of royals. It was accordingly made a royal regiment,
with this flattering title — "The 15th or king's royal
regiment of light dragoons." At the same time the
king expressed a desire to confer a mark of hi> favour
on the brave general ; but he declared that the hc>n-
our and satisfaction of his majesty's approbation were
his best reward.

During the peace between 1763 and 1775. Gener.Tl
Elliot served for a time as commander of the forces
in Ireland. Being recalled from this ditTicult ])o>t
on his own solicitation, he was, in an hour fortunate
for his countn.-, appointed to the command of Ciib-
rallar. In the ensuing war, whicli finally involved
both the French and .Spaniards, the latter institute!
a most determined siege rountl his fortre>s, win.;!
lasted for three years, and was only un-ucce--~;r.I
through the extraordinary exert inns, and, it m.iy ie
ailded, tlie extraorilinar)- (jualihcatioiis I't" tier.er.I
Elliot. Both himself and hi.- garrison, lir.ving been
previously inured to every tlegree of .;li-l;iK;-.ce ?.v.\
discipline, were fitted in a jiecuiiar niar.i.er to en-
dure the hardjhijjs of the siege, wliile at tlie .-.-;r.,e
time his militan.- antl engineering niovenxr.;- %\e:e
governed by such a clear jiuigp.ieiit r.r.'i .-•!%. :1. ns to
i)artle the utmost efforts of l!ie er.eniy. Collected
within himself, he in no ii:,-t.-.nee de-troyeii l/v j.re-
mature attacks the l.il-ours wk.'.eli would cn>t t!:e
enemy time, jxitience, ai-.d ex; '.r.-e to coim[ "ele; 1 e
delil.'erately (>l)servcd ti.eir aii Toadies, nn'i, wi;h
the keenest jierce] tioi!. ~e:/ed 0:1 ;lie jirL'per mome!.:
in whicii to make lii- attack with succe--. He
never spent I,is amtriUttition in -u-eles- j arable cr in
unimj ortatU attack;, lie ::.v-r relaxed ir-in i.is

52S

GILBERT ELLIOT.

discipline by the appearance of security, nor hazarded
the lives of his garrison by wild experiments. By
a cool and temperate demeanour, with a mere hand-
ful of men, he maintained his station for three years
of constant investment, in which all the powers of
Spain were employed. All the eyes of Europe were
upon his conduct, and his final triumph was univer-
sally allowed to be among the most brilliant military
transactions of modern times.

On his return to England, General Elliot received
the thanks of parliament, and was honoured by his
sovereign, June 14, 1787, with a peerage, under the
title of Lord Ileathfield and Baron Gibraltar, besides
being elected a Knight of the Bath. His lordshi]5
died at Aix-la-Chapelle, July 6, 1790, of a second
stroke of palsy, while endeavouring to reach Gib-
raltar, where he was anxious to close his life. He
left, by his wife Anne, daughter of Sir Francis Drake,
a son, who succeeded him in the peerage.

ELLIOT ^Murray Kynxynmond, Gilbert,
first Earl of Minto, a distinguished statesman, was
born at Edinburgh, Aprd 23, 1751. He was the
eldest son of Gilbert Elliot, Esq., advocate, younger
of Minto, by Mrs. Agnes Murray Kynnynmond, of
Melgund and Kynnynmond.

The Earl of .Nlinto was descended from a race of
very eminent persons. His father, who became .Sir
Gilbert Elliot of Minto, baronet, was conspicuous
as a parliamentary orator, and in 1763 held the
office of treasurer of the navy. He subsequently ob-
tained the reversion of the office of keeper of the
signet in Scotland. In the literary annals of his
country he is the well-known author of several ex-
cellent poetical compositions, particularly the popu-
lar song, A/v Sheep I neglected. He also carried on
a philosophical correspondence with David Hume,
which is quoted with marks of a]5probation by Mr.
Dugald Stewart, in his Philosoplty of the Ilnnian
Miiiti, and in his Dissertation prefixed to the seventh
edition of the Eiicyclopiedia Britannica.

Sir Gilbert was the eldest son of Sir Gilbert Elliot
of Minto, lord justice-clerk, a respectable judge and
most accomplished man, especially in music. Lord
Minto, as he was called, is said to have been the
first to introduce the German flute into Scotland,
about the year 1 725. In the history of .Scotland,
during the early part of the eighteenth century, he
is distinguished by his zealous and useful exertions
as a friend of the Protestant succession, and also
by liis patriotic enthusiasm in every measure that
ten(lc<l to the improvement and advantage of his
country.

The father of Lord Minto was Gilbert Elliot, pop-
ularly called "(jibljie Elliot," at first a writer in
Eilinlnirgh, and in that capacity emi)loyed l)y the
celebrated Mr. V'eitch to rescue him from the tyran-
nical government of Charles II. in Scotland; a duty
in which he succeeded, though it led to his own de-
nouncement by the .Scottish ])rivy-council. (Jilhert
Elliot contrived to make his escape to Holland,
but, nevertheless, was tried in his absence for high
treason to King James VTI., for which he was con-
demned and forfeited. After the Revolution he
returne<l to his native country; and being recom-
mended, both by his sufferings and his sagacity and
exjjcrtness in business, was made clerk of the privy-
council. He siib-^ecpiently entered at the .Scottish
bar, and rose to the rank of a civil and criminal
judge. It is related, that when became to Dum-
fries in the course of the justiciary circuit, he never
failed to visit his old friend \'eitch, who \va^ there
settled minister; and the following dialogue u-^ed
to pass between them: "Ah, Willie, Willie," Lord

Minto would say, "if it had not been for me, the
pyets [magpies] would have been pyking your pow
on the Ketherbow Port." "Ah, Gibbie, Gibbie,"
Veitch would reply, in reference to the first impulse
which his persecutions had given to the fortunes of
Lord Minto, "if it had not been for me, you would
have been writing papers yet, at a plack the page."

To return to the Earl of Minto: his first education
was of a private nature; and, as his father had pro-
spects of advancement for him in England, he was
subsequently placed at a school in that country. In
1768 he entered as a gentleman commoner at Christ
Church, Oxford; whence he was transferred to Lin-
coln's Inn, and in due time was called to the Eng-
lish bar. His health becoming delicate, he soon
after commenced a tour of the Continent, with the
view of acquiring a knowledge of the general state
of European life and policy. While at Paris, he
frequented the society of Madame du Deffand, by
whom he is justly praised in her correspondence.
She calls him "ce petit Elliot," either in endearment,
or in allusion to his youth and delicate person. In
1777 Mr. Elliot married Miss Amyand, daughter
of Sir George Amyand, by whom he had three sons
and three daughters. Soon after this period his
father died, leaving him in possession of the ba-
ronetcy.

In 1774 Mr. Elliot was elected member of parlia-
ment for Morpeth; and, though he never became a
very frequent speaker, he gave proofs on many occa-
sions of his talents both as a debater and a man of
business. In the deliberations of parliament on the
American contest he warmly espoused the cause of
ministers, until nearly the close of the war, when
he joined the ranks of the opposition. Having at-
tached himself to Mr. Fox, he gave his support to
the coalition ministry, and after the dismission of that
party, adhered to it throughout its misfortunes and
disgrace. In the endeavours of the party of the
coalition to humbie that of the new aristocracy, which
seemed to have arisen in what was called the India
interest; in their attempts to win the people back to
their side, by swerving, to a certain length, into de-
mocratical Whiggism; in their hopes to strengthen
themselves on the authority of the heir-apparent to
the crown; in their op]iosition to a war on behalf
of Turkey, with the power of Russia and its allies;
in their efforts to maintain what was really the con-
stitutional right of the Prince of Wales to the regency;
and in all their other political measures, whether to
serve their country or to restore themselves to offi-
cial power, .Sir Gilbert Elliot bore no undistinguished
part.

The estimation in which he was held by his party
is proved by the circumstance of his having been
twice proposed as speaker; on one of which occa-
sions he very nearly carried his election against the
government. At the breaking out of the l-'reneh re-
volution, he, like many others of his jwrty, warmly
adopted the views of the Tories, and became a warm
su]iporter of ministers. In 1793 the town of Toulun,
and other parts of the south of France, had declared
for Louis XVn., and seemed likely to become of
great service to the British arms in operating against
the new rei)ul)lic. Sir Gilbert I'dliot was then asso-
ciated in a commission with Lord Hood and General
O'llara, respectively commanders of the naval and
military force, to meet with the French royalists, and
afford them all possible protection. On the re-ca])-
ture of Toulon by the republicans, December 18,
1793, he ]:)rocured for such of the Ttndonese as
escaped a refuge in the island of Elba. The Cor-
sicans having now also resolved to declare against
the republic, Sir Gilbert was nominated to take them

GILBERT ELLIOT

MOUNTSTUART ELPIIINSTONE.

529

under the protection of Great Britain. Early in 1 794
all the fortified places of the island were put into
his hands; and the iiiny having accepted the proffered
sovereignty of the island, Sir Gilbert presided as
viceroy in a general assembly of the Corsicans, June
19, 1794, when a code of laws was adopted for the
political arrangement of society in the island, being
in sub-.tance somewhat similar to the constitution
of Great Britain. In a speech of great wisdom,
dignity, and conciliation, Sir Gilbert recommended
to the Corsicans to live quietly under this constitu-
tion, and to value aright the advantages they had
gained by putting themselves under the protection
of the same sovereign who was the executor of the
laws and the guardian of the liberties of Great Bri-
tain. Whatever could be done by prudence, modera-
tion, energy, and vigilance, was done by Sir Gilbert
in the government of this island; but, notwithstand-
ing all his efforts, the French ultimately gained the
ascendency, and in October, 1796, the island was
deserted by the British. George III. acknowledged
his sense of Sir Gilbert's services by raising him to
the peerage, under the title of Lord or Baron of
Minto, in the shire of Roxburgh, with a special per-
mission to adopt tiie arms of Corsica into tlie armorial
bearings of his family.

Lord Minto's speech in the House of Lords in
support of the union with Ireland, a measure which
mjt his sincere support, was one of considerable
effect, and much admired even by those witli whom
he ditTered on that occasion. Early in 1799 his
lordship was appointed envoy extraordinary and
minister plenipotentiary to the court of V'ienna, where
he resiiled, and ably executed the duties of his very
important office, till the end of the year 1801. On
the accession of the Whig administration in 1S06, he
filled for a short time the office of president of tlie
Board of Control; but having soon after been ap-
P':>inted to the situation of Governor-general of India,
he embarked for that ilistant region in February,
1807. As the Company, Board of Control, and
ministers had differed about the filling of this office
(vacant by the death of Marquis Cornwallis), the
appointment of Lord Minto must be considered as
a testimony of the general confidence in his abilities
and integrity, more es]")ecially as he was at the time
quite ignorant of Indian affairs. The result fully
justified all that had been anticipated. Under the
cire of Lord Minto, the debts of the Company rajiidly
diminished, the animosities of the native princes were
suljdued, and the jealousy of the government was
diminished. In quelling the mutiny of the coast
army, lie evinced much prudence, temper, and firm-
ness; bui his admini-tralidn was rendered more con-
spicuously brilliant by his well-concerted and trium-
phant expeditions against the Isles of France and
Bourbon in iSlo, and that of Java in iSii. Al-
th )u^'h these enterprises were in conformity to the
general instructions, yc; the British ministers candidly
allowed, in honour of Lord Minto, that to him was
due the whole merit of the plan, and also its succe>s-
ful termination. He himself accomjianied the ex-
pedition a^'ainst Java: and it is well known tliat his
presence not only contributed materially to its earlv
surrender, but aKo to the maintenance of harmonv
in all department- of the ex]iedition, and tended
materially to conciliate the inhabitants after the
surrender. For these eminent services Lord Minto
received the thanks of both hou-es of parliament:
and in February, 1S13, as a proof of his inaie-ty's
continued approhation, he was jirimnjted to an earl-
dom, with the addiiioiial title of \'iscount Mcl_;uiui.
His lordship returned to f'ngland in 1S14. in ap-
parent healtli; but after a short re>i<.!ence i:i Lon;ljn,

VOL. :.

alarming symptoms of decline began to show them-
selves, and he died June 2lst, at Stevenage, on his
way to Scotland. Lord Minto's general abilities are
best seen in his acts. His manners were mild and
]deasant, his conversation naturally playful — but he
Could make it serious and instructive. He displayed,
both in speaking and writing, great purity of lan-
guage, and an uncommon degree of perspicuity in
his mode of expression and narration. He was an
elegant scholar, a good linguist, and well versed both
in ancient and modem history. With all these quali-
fications, he possessed one which gives a charm to
all others — modesty. In short, it is rare that a per-
son appears with such a perfect balance of good
qualities as the Earl of Minto.

ELPHINSTONE, The Hon. Molnt.-tuakt.
This distinguished civil servant of the Last India
Company, who won for himself such a high name in
the history of our Indian empire, was the fourth sou
of John, eleventh Lord Llphinstone, by Anne,
daughter of James, third Lord Ruthven, and grand-
daughter of James, second Earl of Bute. The Ll-
phinstone family is oneof great antiquity in Scotland;
several of its members held resjionsible situations in
the political events of their day; and John Lord
Llphinstone, the father of the subject of the pre>ent
memoir, was a general officer, held for some time the
office of governor of Edinburgh Castle, and was one
of the representative peers of Scotland.

Mountstuart Llphinstone was bom in the year
1779. Until his twelfth year, his educaticMi was
conducted in his father's house at Cumbernauld, and
in 1791-92 he attended the high-school of l>iin-
burgh. At this time he gave little promise either of
talents or scholarship, having selected for him>elf a
different class of teachers from those of the high-
school. These were French prisoners of war, \\ ho
had been captured in the early part of the revolu-
tion, and retained in the castle cT Edinburgh ; and
as his father was governor of the castle, young
Mountstuart, who was a Whig of the Charles Fox
school, fraternized with these hot rejjublicans, wore
his hair long after their fashion, and learned to sin^,"
their revolutionaiy war-songs, chiefly the Mr.rsciii};.:
and Ca im. After this unpromising training he wn>
sent to a school in Kensington, tauglit by I 'r.
Thonqjson, where his education, such as it wa-, \\p.s
completed in two short years. Thus he owe<i little
to schools, and was of to') volatile a di>]>o-;ition fir
serious apjilication. It was only when he went oi'.t
in early lite to India, and was obliged to rely u] ••n
his own energy and resources, that he became a >elf-
taught accomplished sch<ilar. The place of h.is career
was probably decided from the circum>iance ot I i^
uncle, Mr. Fullerton Elphin>tone, having 1 een f. r
many vears a director of tlie East India (.."oni! any.
Having obtained a cadet.-hip in the Comi ai;;. '> eiv/i
service, he embarke<l fir India in July, 1705, wheM
only sixteen years of age. It was a darger' i;- ir^ieal
f)r one so young to undergo. No l.lcrr.iy te-t- v. i.:e
required of him; he was freed fn ni ll;e i>i;.;l re-
straints of youth ; and if he pu:x;i:.-.riy c.;i-c!..;r_.-ed
the duties of his ofnce, no l';;rt!Rr •;•.■.(.>•.;-!> were
a-ke.l. Ivjt the.-e circiini-taix— , %\!i:J: nii-l.i have
corrupted and deba-ed an \v.Wr.'<x n;;!.'i. only
strengthened that .if y. lung F.!; iiir,-'' .ne, .t;. 1 ma .j
him i>rave, con-i-iera'e. a;i i -t, !:-rt I;a:,t.

Almo>t inline iia'cly on iii> arrival in L.dia he
wa< apii' ii:ited a^-i-tar.t to ;!k' magi-trate at Feiiare-.
Here, 'h- uvcver, lii- i.fe gii !;■ 1 M'.eiUiy onwanl f.^r
s<inie year.-, with the exe'r. t :i •f i.uie imvorta-"
inei'lent. In Jaraaary, 1700. V;,-;er Ali. the de-
P'l.-.-'I Xa\\-al) of I lu ie, w !ij v.a.s dctairied in a sort

530

MOUNTSTUART ELPIIINSTONE.

of honourable captivity at Benares, visited the
British resident Mr. Cherry, and during the inter-
view, either from design or under the influence of
sudden passion, aimed a blow at him with his sword.
As if this had been a preconcerted signal, the na-
wab's followers attacked the British oflicers present
at the interview, and a massacre commenced which
seemed to have for its object the extirpation of all
the Europeans in Benares. But the gallant resist-
ance of ^Ir. Davis, who with spear in hand defended
the narrow stair leading to the roof of his house, on
which his famdy had taken shelter, gave time for
the arrival of British troops, by whom the sudden
mutiny was quelled. In this wild uproar the situa-
tion of Mr. Elphinstone was truly critical. lie was
sitting with his friend Sir R. Houston, then on a
visit to Benares, and they were engaged in conversa-
tion, unconscious of the murders going on in the
.'•treets, until nearly all the English were destroyed or
had fled. They had only time to mount their horses,
^vhen they were pursued by the enemy's cavalry;
and their escape was owing to a sugar plantation
into which they dashed, and where they were hid by
the tall sugar-canes. It was a lesson of political
wariness against the sudden outbursts of Asiatic pas-
sion, which, among other lessons, Elphinstone was
careful to lay to heart. Two years after this event
he was transferred to the diplomatic service at the
Mahratta court, under Colonel (afterwards Sir Barry)
Close, and here it was that Elphinstone might be
])roperly said to commence in earnest the career that
led him to fame and distinction.

This new sphere of action, to which he was ap-
pointed in 1801, presented a complication of diffi-
culties seldom to be paralleled in the politics of
Europe. The Mahratta empire had risen on that of
the Mogul, and succeeded to the same ascendency in
India; but at the end of the eighteenth century had
fallen into the same state of anarchy as its prede-
cessor. Although the form of its government and
the prestige of its name still survived, the real power
had been usurped by the chiefs of the Mahratta con-
federacy, who after paying a merely nominal homage
to the peshwa or representative of the sovereign — an
official who under that subsidiary title had ruled with
regal authority — governed their own territories with
unrestricted sway. Thus there were two sovereigns
and a double court at Poona — a pageant king, with
the title and show of royalty, and a mayor of the
]:ialace, who enjoyed the real authority. This last
lunctionary was impersonated in Bajee Rao, a Mah-
ratta prince of great cunning and showy accomplish-
ments, but no s(;Mier, who, although he had usurped
for the time the chief pov/er of the state, was con-
trolled by whatever warlike Mahratta chieftain might
happen for the time tr) be uppermost. In this con-
fusion of parties, wliere sovereign, peshwa, and
factious princes were all striving for supremacy, and
the Mahratta empire was about to be torn to ))ieces,
a power greater than them all stepped in, citlier to
compose or jir-jfit by the confusion. Need we add
that this power was the British empire in India?
Lord Wullesley, the governor-general, propfised a
military alliance with the peshwa, and although the
terms v.'cre those of a superior, the jjc-^hwa was con-
strained to submit to them. It was into this Mali-
ratta court, or rather political chaos, that i'Jphin-
stone was sent, and he had arrived in time to ^\■itncss
the struggles that overthrew the pcshwa's authority,
and the liritisji interference by which his rule was
re-established.

A treaty, however, by which the ambition of so
manv was thwarted could not be of long endurance,
and it was found necessary by the governor-general

to send a mission to the great Mahratta chiefs,
Scindia, Holkar, and the Rajah of Berar, to recon-
cile them to the change. The mission, however,
failed, although Arthur Wellesley, the future hero of
Waterloo, was at the head of it. That fmal argu-
ment of force was necessary which none knew better
how to apply, and the unsuccessful negotiator was
soon after to be the conqueror of Assaye. During
his mission. General Wellesley, who had come in
contact with our ])romising diplomatist at Poona,
and marked his abilities, requested the resident "to
give him young Elj^hinstone." This at the time was
declined ; but afterwards, when the sickness of Sir
John Malcolm, Wellesley's secretary, had disabled
him from duty, Elphinstone was sent to supply his
place. He joined the general at Ahmednuggur early
in August, 1803, and was present with him through
the whole of that Mahratta campaign in which Sir
Arthur's great military achievements were com-
menced. And here it was that Elphinstone showed
the courage, the energy, and coolness of an approved
soldier, with that military enthusiasm which so largely
enters into the composition of a hero. At Assaye,
though suffering from sickness, he quitted his palan-
quin to follow the general through the dangers of
the fight, on which occasion, as he wrote after the
battle, he was "well dusted ;" and at Argaum he
was again at Sir Arthur's side, when our troops were
thrown into momentary disorder by the unexpected
fire of the enemy's guns. At the siege of Gawilghur,
with which the campaign terminated, Wellesley was
so pleased with the conduct of his young secretary
throughout the whole war, that he said, "You have
mistaken your profession; you ought to have been a
soldier." Nor were his official services less appre-
ciated, as was shown by the general's letter recom-
mending him to the important post of representative
of British interests at the court of Berar, when peace
was concluded. "Upon the occasion," he writes
to the governor-general, "of mentioning Mr. Elphin-
stone, it is but justice to that gentleman to infonn
your excellency that I have received the greatest
assistance from him since he has been with me. He
is well versed in the language, has experience and
a knowledge of the Mahratta powers, and their re-
lations with each other, and with the Ihntish govern-
ment and its allies. He has l)ecn ]->rcscnt in all the
actions which have been fought in tliis quarter during
the war, and at all the sieges. He is acquainted
with every transaction that has taken jilace, and with
my sentiments u])on all subjects. I tliLTerore take
the liberty of recommending him to your txcellency."
This was high jiraise, es]iecially from a (juarter so
chary of conmiendations. It was a trying situation
for which I'^lphinstone was recijnnnended, as tlie
Rajah of Berar, an independent sovereign, had just
Ijcen deprived of some of his jirovinces by the Brilisli,
anfl might at any time renew the war to recover them,
and be revenged for his recent discomfiture. And
extraordinary was the merit of one only twenty-five
years old who was appointed to watch and control
such a potentate.

C(jntrary to all expectati<in the rnjah remained
(]uiet, having been a]>peasud by the restoration of
]>art (^f his comiuered territory; and Idphinstone,
after holding jieaceful office in the country, ■\\as
transferred, in .March, 1S08, to the temi)orary charge
of c)ur relations with the court of .Scindia, and in
the following August to the charge of an embassy
to Cal>ul. In conserjuence, however, of changes
which had occurred at the court of (!abii! after he
had set out, and instructions sent to liim from head-
(juarters to cf)nclude no alliance that wns not ])urcly
defensive, tlie mission produced no important conse-

MOUNTSTUART ELPIIINSTOXE.

531

quences. This was a bitter disappointment to Mr.
]'^lphinstone, after tlie great preparations that had
been made for the embassy, and the important re-
sults which were expected to flow from it. "From
the embassy of General Gardanne to Persia," he
writes, "and other circumstances, it appeared as if
the French intended to carry the war into Asia, and
it was thouj^ht expedient by the British government
in India to senil a mission to the King of Cabul; and
I was ordered on that duty." This otherwise fruit-
less mission, however, sufficed to reveal the disap-
pointetl diplomatist in a new character. During his
stay in that country, hitherto unknown to the British,
he had noted everything with an observant eye; and
on his return to Calcutta he wrote his work entitled
Account 0/ the Kiiii^dom of Cahul. This production,
by which he stood out to the world as an author,
gives a minute and valuable account of the country,
in its geography, natural history, &c. ; as well as a
history of the embassy; and as such it was a valuable
boon to our Indian government, who, on this occa-
sion, had a terra incognita laid open to their view,
with all its caj^abilities and resources. It was in-
tended originally as an official report, but Sir J.
Macintosh, at that time in the civil employment of
the East India Company, happened to read the work
in manuscript, and recommended its publication.
It was not committed to the press, however, until
1S15. The travels of Sir Alexander Burnes, and the
national disasters which befell our arms in Cabul, re-
called the attention of the Britisli public to the work,
and in consequence of the growing demand, a third
ciiition of it was puljlished, thirty years after it was
written, by which the literary fame of its author en-
joyed a reduplicated existence.

In 1810 Mountstuart Klpliinstone was appointed
resident at the court of Foona. Although the
country had considerably improved during his ab-
sence, the government was still unsettleci; and al-
though Bajee Rao had been replaced in the office of
peshwa by British influence, and retained in it by
British bayonets, he was restless under the ascend-
ency of his benefactors, and plotting for rule in-
dependent of their aid. Then, too, he had a min-
i-.ter and confidant, one Triml)ukjce Danglia, whose
ciiaracter for energy and cunning resembled his own,
and who was ready to second the views of his master,
b.owever unreasonable or unjust. It was this danger-
ous pair wiiom Klpliinstone had to watch, to soothe,
and to coerce at tlu court of Poona, while they
hated his presence, and cared not by what means
they might be rid of him. A peaceful agreement be-
tween sucli parties could not be lasting, and an act of
violence perjictratcd by the peshwa and his minister
hastened the inevitaMe rujiture. An ambassador,
who was also a Brahmin, and tlieref)re ]irotccted both
by ]i<ilitical and religiM;i> sancti'iiis, harl been sent
I'V tile government of Baroda to the court of Poona;
bat having mortally offciKJed the pc->hwa, he was
a>sa-.--inatc 1 in open day and the ])u!)lic street, bv
hired murderers in the eni;iloyof Triinbukjee I >ang-
lia. d'he deed was an in--ult to every nation, .tikI as
such could not 1)> i>.i->e 1 over ; the British govern-
ment in hviia w.i^ t!ie only autli' >rity that liacl the
])ower as well a~ the rii^Iit to vindicate the universal
law of nation^; and E!phin>tone. a> it> c<ininii-.^ioned
resident, insisted upon tlie npprehen^ion of Trimlnik-
jee and lii> agent>. and it lomid giiiliy. th:it thev
sh >uld be pu!iis!ied. "A foreign anil)a-.-ad' >r." he
sail to the ne-~!nva. "ha-; been murdere! 'v.\ the
midst ofvour higime--' cnurt. .\ Br-dunin ha-, been
massacred almost in the teni-ile d.uring one of the
highest sc)lenin;tie- ofvour religion ; and I niu-t n"t
conceal irom your higb.no-. the impunity of the per-

petrators of this enormity has led to imputations,
not to be thought of, against your highness' govern-
ment. Nobody is more convinced of the falsehood
of such insinuations than I am; but I think it my
duty to state them, that your highness may see the
necessity of refuting calumnies so injurious to your
reputation. I beg you also to observe, that while
Trimbukjee remains at large, his situation enables
him to commit further acts of rashness, which he
may undertake on purpose to embroil y<jur highness
with the British government." The remonstrance
was closed with a threat that communications would
be closed between the British government and the
court of Poona, unless Trimbukjee was brought to
trial. After much demur on the part of the peshwa,
the offender was delivered to the British government,
and placed in close custody. But now came the
British part of the difficulty. A trial that revealed
the guilt of Trimbukjee might also betray the com-
plicity of the peshwa, and to proceed against the
latter might involve the wholesale evils of a Mahratta
war. .Satisfied also with having reduced the peshwa
to submission, and compelled him to surrender his
prime minister to justice, they here stopped short,
and allowed Trimbukjee to escape fr<jm prison. It
was a dangerous case of lenity, the effects of which
were to recoil upon their own heads. The fugitive
fled to his old master, and plans were concerted
secretly between them to throw off their connection
with the British, and temjit the hazards of a new
Mahratta war. Into these plots Elphinstone pene-
trated, although the peshwa declared that Trimbuk-
jee had not returned to Poona; nay, he even j^rovidcd
large sums to assist in his capture. Under these and
other such devices, the conspiracy was so secretly
matured, that even when it broke out into open
warfare, the British in I'oona were unaware of the
danger. It was well, therefore, that El[>hinstone
from the beginning had suspected the mischief and
prepared the remedy. Under his own responsibility
he had drawn several bodies of British trooiis to the
neighbourhood of the ca])ital, and was thus jirepared
to repel violence by fierce. Hostilities were com-
menced l)y a sudden attack on the British residency;
but Klpliinstone, whose military eye detected the
difficuliy of defending it, had previi.iusly v, ithdrawn
the troops to a well-chosen position al I'lit tmir miles
distant irom the city, so that all whicii the insur-
gents could do was to seize and destroy the build-
ing. The military commander of the small I>riii^li
force was Colonel Barr, a brave old oftleer, Init now
half-crippled by jiaraly.-is, \\ho intended t'l stand
merely on the ilefeiisive; but Kl]ihinstone, who was
Well acquainted with the nature of Mahr-ntta war-
fare, which he ha<i learne(i under Weliini^ton. nr.d
who, ns Briti-h resident, had a superior voice in the
direction of the troojis, ordered an ad\,ince t'> iiKet
the enemy mid-way. This boMi;ess d,-.;;r,ied tlie
Mahrattas. so that they f night with or!y 1: .'.{ ;l:e:r
usual s])irit. and after a short tiL,-ht llieu lr'-,f ir.,;~-e-
recoiled in broken anil tr,!;n:!:i;;:ry he,-; ~. !■'< 'Li-
onel Barr, as military comniar. ic:-. thi^ n .1 •or\- v. a~
ofticialiv a~cribe<l ; but tlie ]'i.in. ar.d th.e (.v.L'ileiit
roor-. bv\\!:;J; the b.'tlle v cs

movements of the
Won, were geiier."
civilian ]-'l] diin-to;
lasted on!\' a fe\v
ance of the Mah:

~ -h

utter detea;
o\ving to 1
the tr...
occupa
a tlvin
ThJ i-i

A-h

died.

532

MOUNTSTUART ELPHIXSTOXE.

nexed to the dominions of the East India Company,
and the rest placed under the rule of the descend-
ants of a former sovereign. As for the defeated and
now deposed Bajee Rao, he surrendered to the
British, and passed the rest of his days in obscurity
in the neighbourhood of Cawnpore. But insignifi-
cant though he personally was, he left behind him a
fearful inheritance both to the British and his own
countrymen, by means of his adopted son, Nana
Sahib, and the wealth with which he endowed him.
Strange that such a man as this imbecile and for-
gotten peshwa should have been the remote source
of such a terrible tragedy as the Indian mutiny of
1857 ! In a parliamentary speech of Mr. Canning,
descriptive of the state of India at the close of the
Pindaree war, the following attestation to the worth
of Mountstuart Elphinstone was as honourable as it
was justly merited: — "In the midst of this unsus-
pecting tranquillity, at a moment now known to have
been concerted with other Mahratta chieftains, the
peshwa manifested his real intentions by an unpro-
voked attack upon the residency (the house of the
British resilient) at Poona. Mr. Elphinstone (a
name distinguished in the literature as well as the
politics of the East) exhibited, on that trying occa-
sion, military courage and skill which, though valu-
able accessories to diplomatic talents, we are not
entitled to require as necessary qualifications for
civil employment. On that, and not on that occa-
sion only, but on many others in the course of this
singidar campaign, Mr. Elphinstone displayed talents
and resources which would have rendered him no
mean general, in a country where generals are of no
mean excellence and reputation."

Mr. Elphinstone was now elevated to the respon-
sible office of governor and administrator of the con-
quered territories of the deposed peshwa, which had
been annexed to the British rule. But when the dilfi-
culties of conquest had ended, those of government
only began. The first of these arose from the pre-
d')minance of a religious order. The late peshwa
being a Brahmin, had largely favoured those of his
own caste; and although the new governor endea-
voured to conciliate them, they attributed all his
concessions to fear and pusillanimity. They accor-
dingly formed an infamous conspiracy, which had
f )r its obiect the murder of all the Europeans at
Poona and Suttara, and the restoration of the Mah-
ratta dominion. Nothing, however, could escape
the ]>enetrating eye of Elphinstone ; and having de-
tected the conspiracy, he caused the ringleaders to
l)e blown from the mouths of cannon — remarking
that while thi> was the most terrible of punishments
in the si'^ht of the beholders it was the quickest and
lea.-,t painful to the criminals. This terrible instance
of justice, which he undertook upon his own re-
.sponsii^ility, and which was then an innovation in
British Indi.a, so completely dismayed the P>rahmins
that they abandoned all such intrigues forllie future.
His friend, the governor of P.onibay, astounded at
this daring ])rocee(iing, and fearful of the conse-
quences to Elphinstone himself, advised him to pro-
vide himself with an act of indemnity, which the
oth-jr proudly refused. "If I have done wrong,"
he said, " I ought to be punished; if I have done
right, I don't want any act o( indemnity." The
milit.iry chiefs were next to be restored to obedience.
•As they were numerically j)owerful, and held ]jos-
session of the hill-forts, their hostility to a f<jreign
dominion was only natural, and their rebellion a
danger to lie a]:)prehended. In this state of things
the policy of Elphinstone was wise and conciliatory.
He did not attempt to overlav the people with
European systems of law and ju.^tice, which they

neither could understand nor tolerate. He did not
depose these powerful feudal chiefs, and with a
stroke of the pen convert them into dangerous rebels.
Such had been too much the policy of our Indian
government, and was productive of disappointment
and failure. Instead of this, the changes he intro-
duced were gradual and easy to be borne; and the
people were insensibly assimilated, as far as their
nationality would permit, to the simple principles
of law and order which prevail in every civilized
country, and felt themselves happier and better by
the change. It would not suit our limits to enter
into a detail of Elphinstone's administration of the
affairs of the province, but its effects we may briefly
state. The example introduced a beneficial change
in the government of the conquered provinces of
India. With new conquests and annexations, a
more simple form of administration, with less dis-
turbance of native institutions, a more liberal em-
ployment of natives, larger powers given to British
officers, combi;)ed with a more careful selection of
them, were now introduced into the rule of India.
With reg^ird to his own province. Grant Duff, in Ids
history, states, "More was done for the tranquillity
of the Deccan in eighteen months than had ever
followed a revolution in that disturbed country after
a period of many years. The name of Elphinstone
was deservedly associated with the acts of the British
government, and the memory of benefits conferred
by him on the inhabitants of Maharashtra will pro-
bably survive future revolutions, and will do much
in the meantime to preserve the existence of British
India." Nor was this an empty or merely oratorical
eulogy. Its truth was tested to the letter in the
terrible trial of the Indian revolt in 1857, when the
name of Elphinstone was cherished by the Mahrattas,
and when it acted like a conciliatory spell long after
he had left the country. K\en when he died, his
kinsman and successor in the government of Bombay
could point to a whole pile of letters which he had
received from the Mahratta chiefs, eulogizing the
virtues and bewailing the decease of their never-
forgotten benefactor.

After the administration of Mountstuart at Poona
had lasted from 181 7 to 1819, he was called to
occupy a still more elevated sphere. The govern-
ment of the presidency of Bombay was vacant; and,
departing from the usual routine of promotion, Mr.
Canning, then president of the Board of Control,
recommended that some person distinguished by
superior talents anil services, irrespective of leanings
to rank or seniority, should be electeil to the office.
He then mentioned the names of Malcolm, Munro,
and Elphinstc)ne; and the last, althoui;h the youngest
of the three, was ]ireferred to be governor of I!ond)ay.

Although Elphinstone held this new office during
eight years — an unwonted jieriod of arrest in his
career of many changes — the events were not of that
particular character which occupy a limited biogra-
phy. The period was one of profound jieacc, and
ids course was that of a wise, just, and benevolent
ruler, whose administration resembles the dew of
heaven, rather than the whirlwind or the thunder-
shower; and the influence of which is seen upon the
asjiect of a rich happy country, although its descent
is so silent and unnoticed. And yet his incessant
aciivity, his watchfulness, his temperate \\isdom in
the administration of the government of Pomijny, and
tiie zeal with which he furthered every attenq)t to ele-
vate and imjirove the millions of native subjects over
Avhich he ruled, have made every one acknowledge
that this was tlie brightest and best iiorlion of his
history. Tiie numerous sketches of his manifold
ipialities given by his friends during this p-eriod, show

MOUNTSTUART ELPIIINSTONE.

533

how well they were adapted to make his people
happy, and how eflectually such a sequel followed. Of
these, however, we can only quote from the amiable,
accomplished, and apostolic Bishop Heber, who
thus describes him : —

"Mr. Klphinstone is, in every respect, an extra-
ordinary man, possessing great activity of body and
mind, remarkable talent for, and application to,
public business, a love of literature, and a degree of
almost universal infonnation, such as I have met
with in no other person similarly situated, and man-
ners and conversation of the most amiable and in-
teresting character. While he has seen more of
India and the adjoining countries than any man now
living, and has been engaged in active political, and
sometimes military, duties since the age of eighteen,
he has found time not only to cultivate the languages
of Ilindostan and Persia, but to preserve and extend
his acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics,
with the French and Italian, with all the elder and
more distinguished English writers, and with the
current and popular history of the day, both in poctr)',
history, politics, and political economy. With these
remarkable accomplishments, and notwithstanding a
temperance amounting to rigid alistinence, he is fond
of society, and it is a common subject of surprise, in
what hours of the day or night he finds time for the
accjuisition of knowledge."

Such were the accomplishments of the frolicsome
school-boy, who arrived in India with "small Latin
and less Greek." and who, at a period when the
education of others is ended, was obliged to com-
mence his almost from the beginning. Let us now
see the bishop's account of the pulilic character of
Governor Elphinstone : — "His policy, so far as
India is concerned, a[ipeared to me peculiarly wise
and liberal, and he is evidently attached to and
thinks well of the country and its inhabitants. Ills
public measures, in tiieir general tendency, evince a
steady wish to improve their j^resent condition. No
government in India pays so much attention to
schools and public institutions for education. In
none are the taxes lighter; and in the administration
of justice to the natives in their own languages, in
the establishment of punchayets, in t!ie degree in
which he emi)loys the natives in official situations,
and the countenance and familiarity which he ex-
tends to all the natives of rank who approach him,
lie seems to have reduced to practice almost all the
reforms which had struck me as most required in
the system of government pursued in those j^rovinces
of our Eastern empire whicli I had ]ireviously visited.
His popularity (though to such a feeling there may
be individual exceptions) appears little less remark-
able than his talents and acquirements, and I was
s'ruck by the remark I once heard, that 'all otlier
puljjic men had their enemies an<l their friends, thjir
a Iniirers and their a--persors, but that of Mr. Klphin-
stone everybody spoke highly.' Of his munificence,
for his liberality amounts to this, I had heard much,
and knew some in>tances myself"

We shall venture from I lebcr's descripti<m of a
])crfect governor realized only one extract more. It
i- upon Eijihinstone's religious cliaracter and senti-
ments, upon whicli the autliority of the worthy
]irelate may he C'in>idcred as conclusive. " .\ charge
has been lirought again--t Mr. l-'.lpIiin>tone by the
indiscreet zeal of an amiable but not well-iiiilging
man— tlie 'field ofl"iCL-r of cavalry,' uho ]Hil)li>hed
his Indian travels — tlia: he is 'devoid of religi'>n, and
blinded to all spiritual trutli." I can only >ay th.it I
saw no reason to think so. ( )n the ciiUrary, after
this character which I had read of him, I was mo>.t
r.'-'reeablv sumris-j 1 to fiiid th.it !r,s c.'iviuct and con-

versation, so far as I could learn, had always been
moral and decorou.s, that he was regular in his at-
tendance on public worship, and not only well-in-
formed on religious topics, but well-pleased and for-
ward to discuss them; that his views appeared to me,
on all essential subjects, doctrinally correct, and his
feelings serious and reverential; and that he was not
only inclined to do, but actually did, more for the
encouragement of Christianity, and the suppression
or diminution of suttees, than any otlier Indian
governor has ventured on. That he may have
differed in some resjiects from the peculiar views of
the author in question I can easily believe, though he
could hardly know himself in what this difference con-
sisted, since I am assured that he had taken his opin-
ion at second-hand, and not from anything which
Mr. Elphinstone had either said or done. iJut I have
been unable to refrain from giving this slight and
imperfect account of the character of Mr. Elphin-
stone as it appeared to me, since I should be sorry
to have it thought that one of the ablest and most
amiable men I ever met with were either a profligate
or an unbeliever."

-\fter having thus lived and laboured in India for
a long course of thirty-two years, during which he
applied for no leave of absence, and scarcely enjoyed
even a partial intennission, his stay in the country
was terminated in 1827, when he resigned the gov-
ernorship of Bombay. Although only in his forty-
eighth year, anrl of temperate habits and a strong
constitution, even a bow of steel will be relaxed by
long and constant tension, and his health was so
broken that he could no longer act with his foiTner
vigour. It was doubtful if even a return to Europe
and a long sojourn there would string his energies
anew, and again fit him for the trials of public life
either in India or elsewhere. The tidings that he
had resigned his government spread sorrow and con-
sternation over Bombay, and an address expressive
of their deep regret, headed by the signatures of the
princes, chiefs, and native inhabitants, testified the
keenness of their feelings. " Until you became com-
missioner in the Deccan and governor of Bombay,"
they said in the opening paragraph of the address,
"never had we been enalded to apjireciate correctly
the invaluable benefit wliich tiie British diiniinion
is calculated to diffuse througliout the \\liole of
India;" and after detailing t!ie advantages they
had enjoyed under his administration, they con-
cluded with the following touching assurance: '"The
name of 1-dpliinstone shall be the first our children
shall learn to lisp, and it will be our ]iroude>t
duty to i)reserve indelilily unto the latest jiosicrity
the name of so ]ire-eminent a benefactor to cur
country." To gratify their request, a jxirtrait d b.ini,
])ainted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, was scr.t t'l a^i'-rn
the chief room of the Native l-idiication Society ; .t!v1
his statue, by C'iiantrey. ]ilacel in the tc\\n-l;all.
I'.ut a more useful and enduring ni' numer.t t^ his
fame was the foundation of ti:e Klpliji-i. .:>,• i' il-ge
bythe natives themselves, for the I'lnp^ 'se < .: L,5r:\:ng
out his plan of education f^r lv.<\..\. a:i ! ti.e .tii-
nouncemeiit of wliich lie ] r'.'eil s,i b. ;^'I;Iy. ;li.-it I'.e
exclaimed on hearing ot i;. //,,■/!.'.,( f w.' .'...■■ .\''!.\'.
For tills institution 27c. 000 ru:ees were C"];.. cte'i tor
the fnindaiion of ]>i 'tessorsh'; > !' t the iiistniction
of tlie natives in tb.e I'.iiglis!; 'a;i--,;.:-e. an^i tiie .irN,
sciences, .md liter.-i'ure ,■( b.r.r-ve; t!;e cl;,-:rs to be
held in the Ur< ir.staixe 1 >y le.irr.e i men invite i fr. m
Great Britain, u:.::! i;a;;ves si:o'.;M be four.d compe-
tent to till them.

On quilling lu'iia, Mr. lil; ]i:i>;one. in-tead of
returning <l-rce-!y )■ .ine. -1 ^-t eigli'een n>.ni:;s in
travelling thr-uji l-;vi t. ^^ria and l'ale>t::iv, Asia

534

MOUNTSTUART ELPIIINSTOXE.

Minor, Greece, and Italy, so that he did not arrive
in England until May, 1829. Although so far ad-
vanced in years, the proficiency he had already made
in scholarship by self-education had only increased
his desire for further acquirements, so that he now
settletl down as a student in earnest. Seeking to
perfect himself in classical knowledge, he resided in
London, and occasionally visited Italy; but his more
•common practice was to retire with a collection of
bojks to some quiet watering-place, where he could
study some months of each year undisturbed. On
his first return to London, he had been so pain-
fully struck, in consequence of associating with the
great scholars of the age, with his still defective
knowledge of the Greek tongue, that he took up
his abode for many months at a roadside inn, and
laboured over the grammars and dictionaries of the
language, while the political world marvelled as to
where he had hid himself, and how he was em-
ployed. As public events went onward, the compli-
cation of affairs in our Indian government became so
ditficult, that the want of such a master intellect as
that of Elphinstone to disentangle tliem was felt by
our leading statesmen. Accordingly, in 1836, the
governor-generalship of India was offered to him by
Lord Ellenborough, on the part of Sir Robert Peel's
administration, and renewed by the government
which succeeded; but each offer he felt himself com-
pelled to decline. The general regret in consequence
of tliese refusals was expressed by Lord Ellenborough,
when he declai-ed at a public meeting, that had Mr.
Elphinstone accepted the office of governor-general
there would have been no Afghan war, an event with
which the subsequent disasters of India vi^ere more
or less nearly connected. But the health of the ex-
governor of Bombay had been too rudely shaken to
recover its former soundness, and his modesty may
have been conscious that he had no longer the en-
durance and active energy that were needed for such
a trying position. He was now also living in that
studious peaceful atmosphere which was more con-
genial to the condition of an invalid. It was not,
however, as a mere literary epicure that he settled
down into such a mode of life. The knowledge
which his active mind acquired he must reproduce,
and that, too, not in conversation or correspondence,
but in the laborious form of a book. This being
certain, it was easy to guess what direction his
autlvjrship would assume. With India his life had
been identified. It was there that he chiefly had
learned what he knew, and performed those deeds
whicii would give him a lasting name; with that
region also his affections were interwoven, so that
the welfare of its people was as dear to him as if
they had been his countrymen and his brethren. He
would write a history of India, and enlist the sym-
pathies of Europe in its behalf

Having resolved upon this feat, Mr. Elphinstone,
in 1S34, commenced the work in earnest. As the
hi.^tory of India necessarily divides itself into separate
portions, in consequence of the successive conrjuests it
has undergone, and the rliffcrent nations by wjioin it
has been ruled, he commenced with the 1 1 indu period,
when the original natives lived under tlie institutes of
their great lawgiver. Menu. Both the Hindu and
Mahometan portions were finisiied in 1S39, after
which he advanced to the histoiy of India under the
domination of the European races who have succes-
sively [jrevailed there until the country became a
portion of the British empire. It was a very complex
subject, but this was not his only difficulty. Admir-
able as he had always been in conversati'jn, in letter-
writing, and the drawing up of official reports — pro-
cjcdings iu which his whole life had hitherto been

spent, and which had become to him a second nature
— he felt that it was a very different matter to com-
mit himself to the press and the inspection of the
world at large, more especially in old age, and with
the confirmed habits of another life than that of
authorship. There were also public claims upon his
time and attention, and the visits of friends to inter-
rupt his working hours; as well as the state of his
health, which required his abandonment of labour,
and a migration to milder climates. Beyond the
Hindu antl Mahometan periods he was unable to
advance, and in 1842 he was obliged to give up the
attempt. But notwithstanding these drawbacks, the
unfinished history, which was published by instal-
ments, was appreciated as a most valuable addition
to our knowledge of India. "If it fail," adds his bio-
grapher, " to be a popular work, this springs mainly
from the nature of the subject with which it deals.
The history of a race so deficient in historical records
as the Hindus, resolves itself into a series of histori-
cal disquisitions that cannot interest the many; while
that of the Mahometan period, important as it is
in its bearing on modern history, becomes insipid
from the sameness of the revelations that it records.
Mr. Elphinstone's narrative introduces as much of
philosophical rellection as the subject admits of, and
his remarks have a direct bearing on the important
events with which the European reader is interested,
and to which the early narrative is only regarded as
an introduction. Nothing, too, can be more graphic
and masterly than the account of the manners and
character of the different races of India, to which
some interesting chapters are devoted." A still
higher praise than this was accorded, when Elphin-
stone was termed by the literary world the "Tacitus
of Indian historians."

What remains to be told of this distinguished per-
sonage may be comprised within a few sentences.
So conscious was he of the necessity of retirement,
and so enamoured of his student life, that he not
only once and again refused the governor-generalship
of India, but also the governor-generalship of Canada,
and a peerage. At the accession of her majesty he
was also offered the order of the Bath, and a seat in
the privy-council, but these temj)ting offers he also
respectfully declined. His last years were sjjent in
Hookwood, Kent, which was recommended to him
by its healthiness and the beauty of its scenery ; but
here about the .same time (1847) he was attacked by
a malady the most trying to a lover of books; this
was a weakness of eye-sight, which prevented him
from reading, so that for this he was obliged to use
the assistance of others. But his resignation and
cheerfulness of spirit were still unbroken, and the
last twelve years of his protracted life were like the
clc)se of a summer's day. This blessing he could also
appreciate and enjoy t(j the full, and writing to a
valued friend a few days before his death, he thus
expressed himself: — "It is wonderful how my health
improves as I advance in years, and I have much to
thank God for in being in s(j much better health of
late than I have been fi)r years." A few months
before he died he was conscious of the decline of his
faculties, and occasionally haunted by the dread of
outliving them, but from this melancholy termira-
tion he was mercifully spared. On Eriday, the iSth
of November, 1859, he had passed his evening as
usual, listening to "his reader," and retired to rest
about eleven o'clock. Early on the following morn-
ing, in consequence of hearing an unusual sound in his
room, ilie servants went in, and found him suffering
under a stroke of paralysis. On rallying, he dressed
himself, and sat in a chair until his medical attendant
came, who advised him to return to bed. During

WILLIAM LLPIIINSTON.

535

Saturday he seemed at times to be conscious, but
could not speak distinctly; and on the following day
he expired, apparently without pain.

ELPHINSTON, William, a celebrated Scottish
prelate, and founder of the university of Aberdeen,
was born in the city of Glasj^ow in the year 141 3.
His father, William Elphinston, was a younger brother
of the noble family of Klphinston, who took up his
residence in Glasgow during the reign of James L, and
was the first of its citizens who became eminent and
acquired a fortune as a general mercliant. I lis mother
was Margaret Douglas, a daughter of the laird of
Drumlanrick. His earliest youth was marked by a
decided turn for the exercises of devotion, and he seems
to have been by his parents, at a very early period of
his life, devoted to the church, which was in these days
the only road to preferment. In the seventh year of
his age he was sent to the grammar-school, and having
gone through the prescribed course, afterwards studied
philosophy in the university of his native city, then
newly founded Ijy Bishop Tumbull, and obtained the
degree of Artittm MiH^lsUr in the twenty-fifth year
of his age. He then entered into holy orders, and
was appointed priest of the church of St. Michael's,
situated in St. Enoch's Gate, now the Trongate,
where he officiated for the space of four years. Be-
ing strongly attached to the study both of the civil
and canon law, he was advised by his uncle, Lawrence
Elphinston, to repair to the Continent, where tliese
brandies of knowleilge were taught in perfection.
Accordingly, in the twenty-ninth year of his age, he
went over to France, where he applied himself to the
study of law for the space of three years, at the end
of which he was called to fill a professional chair in
the university of Paris, and afterwards at (Jrleans,
in both of which places he taught the science of
law with the highest applause. Having in this man-
ner spent nine years abroad, he was, at the request
of his friends, especially of Andrew Muirhead, his
principal patron (who, from being rector of Cadzow,
had been promoted to the bishopric of Glasgow),
persuaded to return to his native country, wliere he
was made parson of Glasgow, and official or com-
missary of tlie diocese. As a mark of respect, too,
the university of Glasgow elected lilm lord-rector
the same year. On the death of Bishop Muirhead,
which took place only two years after his return,
he was nominated by Schevez, Bishopof St. .\ndrews,
official of Lothian; an office which he discharged so
much to the satisfaction of ail concerned, that fames
III. sent for him to ])arliament, and appointed hlin
one of the lortls of his privy-council. It may he
noticed here, as a curious fact, tliat at this period
men of various degrees sat and delil^erated and voted
in ijarliaineiU without any otlier authority than being
L-.unimoned by Ills majesty as wise and good men,
whose advice might be useful in the management of
public affairs. So little, indeed, was the |irivllege
of sitting; and voting in ])ar!iament tlien understood,
or desire 1, tliat neither the warrant of their fellow-
subjects, n ir tlie call of the king, was sutTicient to
S-'cure tlieir attendance, and ])enalties for non-attend-
ance iial l)ef ire tliat ]ieriod been exacted.

EIj)hiii>ton was now in the way of preferment;
and being a man b ith of talents and address, was
ready to profit by every opportunity. .S.jnie differ-
ences having arisen betwe-.-n the l-'rench and .Scottish
courts, the latter, alar:neil for the stability of the an-
cient alliance of the two countries, thought tit to
send out an embassy f ,r its iTeservati'jn. Tills em-
bassy consisted of the Ear! of Buehan, Lor^l-chamber-
lain Livingston. Bi>h i]i ^jf i)unkeM, and Elphinston,
the subject of this memoir, wlio so managcl matters

as to have tlie success of the embassy wholly attri-
buted to him. As tlie reward of such an important
service, he was on his return, in 1479, made arch-
deacon of Argyle; and as this was not considered as
at all adequate to his merits, the bishopric of Ross
was shortly after added. The election of the chapter
of Ross being speedily confirmed by the king's letters-
patent under the great seal, El]>liin.ston took his seat
in parliament, under the title ui eUcttis et cottfirmatus,
in the year 14S2. It does not appear, however,
that he was ever anything more than bishop elect of
Ross; and in the following year, 14S3, Robert
I51ackadder, Bishop of Aberdeen, being promoted to
the see of Glasgow, Elphinston was removed to that
of Aberdeen. He was next year nominated, along
with Colin Earl of Argyle, John Lord Lnimmond,
Lord Ollphant, Robert Lord Lyle, Archibald White-
law, archdeacon of Loudon, and Duncan Dundas,
lord lyon klng-at-arms, to meet with commissioners
from Richard HI. of England for settling all dis-
putes between the two countries. The commissioners
met at Nottingham on the 7tii of September, 1484,
and, after many conferences, concluded a peace be-
twixt the two nations for the space of three years,
commencing at sunrise .September 29th, 14S4, and
to end at sunset on the 29th of September, 14S7.
Anxious to secure himself from the enmity of James
at any future period, Richard, in addition to this
treaty, proposed to marry his niece, Anne de la Pool,
daughter of the Duke of Suffolk, to the eldest son
of King James. This proposal met with the hearty
approbation of James; and Bishop Elphinston with
several noblemen were despatched back again t<j
Nottingham to conclude the affair. Circumstances,
however, rendered all the articles that had been
agreed upon to no purpose, and on the fatal field
of Bosworth Richard shortly after closed his guilty
career. The truce concluded with Richard for
three years does not appear to have been very strictly
observed, and on the accession of Henr\' VII.
Bishop Elphinston, with Sir John Ramsayand other-,
went again into England, where they met with com-
missioners on the part of that country, and on the 3d
of July, I4S6, more than a year of the former truee
being still to run, concluded a peace or ratlier a ces-
sation of arms, which was to continue till the 3d
of July, 1489. .Several disputed ]ioints were by tlii^.
treaty referred to the -Scottish jiarliament. wliicli it
was agreed sliouid assemble in the mrinth of January
following. A meeting of the two kings, it \\as a!.-o
stipulated, should take place in tlie following summer,
when they would, face to face, talk over all that re-
lated to their personal interests, and tho>e of tlieir
realms. Owing to tlie confusion that speeilily eiisued
this meeting never took place.

Bishop Elphinston, In the debates betwixt the ki: g
and his nobles, adhered steadfastly to the king, nr. I
exerted himself to the utmost to reconcile them,
though without effect. Finding tlie noMc, iM;w>e
disposed to listen to what he cor.-id re<! ica-n. tlie
bisiio[> made anotlier journey to l.r,^l.ii!'i. toM..i^,t
in behalf ijf his ma-ter tlie as-i-t.'.ixe •■:' llet.ry. In
this also lie was unsucces~ii:l ; y.,; j; y.x- w.i- -o well
pleased witli his coiv.luct. that on h:- return ! e c< n-
stituted him lonl hi^h-eliaiKel;. r oi' S^.;:.'.i;d. t!ie
principal state otnoe 111 t!ie C' DiUry. 'I hi- th.e ! ■:>!;' p
held till the (ieatli of tli.- k;:.g. '\\ Jiie:! ii.i| pe!:ed a
little more than tiiree nv;.::!- ..VLcr. < ':i tl..-.t ever.t
the bislioj> retired t . hi- .i;-cc-e. .^i:d ?.y\ iied hiiri-elf
to the la:thfiil .;>chargc of hi- e; i-e. .j al h;!xtioi>.
He wa> j.artieuiariy earefal t. ret 'ini sueh abi-.-e- a-
he f.und to e\;-: 'am p.g h;> e!er.;y. :,\A f r ih.cir
benefit com;- -c i a !>■ > -k -f caiv.a:-. t.\ken fr.^m th.e
canons of liie prir.iiuNe ehureh. He w.:-, liowe\-i,

536

WILLIAM ELPHIXSTON.

called to attend the parliament held at Edinburgh
ill the month of October, 1488, where he was present
at the crowning of the young prince James, then in
his sixteenth year. Scarcely any but the conspira-
tors against the late king attended this parliament,
and aware that the bishop might refuse to concur
with them in the measures they meant to pursue,
they contrived to send him on a mission to Germany,
to the Emperor Maximilian, to demand in marriage
for the young king his daughter Margaret. Before
he could reach Vienna, the lady in question had
been promised to the heir-apparent of the King of
Spain. Though he failed in the object for which
he had been specially sent out, his journey was not
unprofitable to his country; for, taking Holland in
his way home, he concluded a treaty of peace and
amity with the States, who had, to the great loss of
Scotland, long been its enemies. The benefits of
this treaty were so generally felt, that it was acknow-
ledged by all to have been a much more important
service than the accomplishment of tlie marriage,
though all the expected advantages had followed it.
On his return from this embassy in 1492, Bishop
Elphinston was made lord privy-seal, in place of
Bishop Hepburn removed. The same year he was
again appointed a commissioner, along with several
f)thers, for renewing tlie truce with England, which
was done at Edinburgh in the month of June, the
truce being settled to last till the end of April, 1501.
Tranquillity being now restored. Bishop Elphin-
ston turned his attention to the state of learning and
of morals among his countrymen. For the improve-
ment of tlie latter he compiled the lives of Scottish
saints, which he ordered to be read on solemn occa-
sions among his clergy; and for the improvement of
the former he applied to Pope Alexander VI. to
grant him a bull for erecting a university in Aber-
deen. This request Pope Alexander, from the repu-
tation of the bishop, readily complied with, and sent
liim a bull to that effect in the year 1494. The col-
L'ge, however, was not founded till the year 1506,
when it was dedicated to St. Mary; but the king, at
t!ie request of the bishop, having taken upon himself
and his successors the protection of it, and contri-
buted to its endowment, St. Mary was compelled to
give place to his more efficient patronage, and it has
ever since been called King's College. By the bull
of erection this university was endowed with privi-
leges as ample as any in Europe, and it was chiefly
f)rmed upon the excellent models of Paris and
Bononia. The ])ersons originally endowed were a
doctor of theology (principal), a doctor of the canon
law, a doctor of the civil law, a doctor of pliysic, a
])rofess(jr of humanity to leach grammar, a sub-prin-
cipal to teacli ]ihiK>sophy, a chanter, a sacrist, six
students of theology, three students of the laws, thir-
tjen students of philosi)])hy, an organist, and five
singing boys, who were students of humanity. By
the united efforts of the king and tlie bishop amjile
j.rovision was made for tliesuhsislence of lioth teachers
and taught, and to this clay a regular education can
be obtained at less expense in .Vherdeen than any-
where else in the united kingdoms of threat Britain.
The Bishop of Aberdeen for the time was constituted
chancellor of the university; but ujion the aholition
f'f that office at the Reformation, the ])atronage ln'-
came vested in the crown. Of 'his college ihe cele-
brated Hector lioece was the first ])rincipal. He was
recalled from Paris, where he had a prf)fessorial cliair,
f )r the express purpose of filling the office, which had
a yearly salary of fjrty merks attached to it - two
jiounds three shillings and four pence sterling. While
tile worthy bishop was thus laying a foundation for
supplying the church and the state with a regular

series of learned men, he was not inattentive to other
duties belonging to his office. His magnificent ca-
thedral, founded by Bishop Kinnimonth in the year
1357, but not completed till the year 1447, he was
at great pains and considerable expense to adorn.
The great steeple he furnished with bells, which
were supposed to have jieculiar efficacy in driving off
evil spirits. He was also careful to add to the gold,
the silver, and the jewels, with which the cathedral
was liberally furnished, and particularly to the rich
wardrobe for the officiating clergy. He also added
largely to the library. While he was attending to
the spiritual wants of his diocese, the worthy bishop
was not forgetful of its lemjioral comforts; and espe-
cially, for the accommodation of the good town of
Aberdeen, was at the expense of erecting an excellent
stone bridge over the Dee — a structure which con-
tinued to be a public benefit for many ages.

In consequence of his profuse expenditure, James
IV. had totally exhausted his treasury, when, by the
advice of the subject of this memoir, he had recourse
to the revival of an old law that was supposed to
have become obsolete. Among the tenures of land
used in Scotland there was one by which the land-
lord held his estate on the terms that if he died and
left his son and heir under age, his tutelage belonged
to the king or some other lord superior, who uplifted
all the rents of the estate till the heir reached the
years of majority, while he bestowed upon his ward
only what he thought necessar)'. By the same species
of holding, if the possessor sold more than the half of
his estate without consent of his superior, the whole
reverted to the superior. There were also lands held
with clauses called irritant, of which some examples
we believe may be found still, by which, if two
terms of feu-duty run unpaid into the third, the land
reverts to the .superior. From the troubled state of
the country during the two former reigns, these laws
had not been enforced; so that now, when inquiry
began to be made, they had a wide operation, and
many were tmder the necessity of compounding for
their estates. Had the bishoj) been aware of the use
the king was to make of the very seasonable supply,
he would most probably have been the last man to
have suggested it.

In 15 13 occurred the conflict of Flodden, one of
the most fatal that had ever befallen the Scots, in
which James IV. and his principal nobles were slain,
and the whole country left defenceless to the victorious
enemy. The news of this most disastrous liattle so
deeply affected the gentle spirit of Bishop Elphin-
ston, that he never was seen to smile afterwards.
He, however, attended in parliament to give his ad-
vice in the deploral>Ie state to which the nation was
reduced. The queen had been by the late king
named as regent so long as she remained unmarried;
and this, thougii contrary to the practice of the coun-
try, which had never hitherto admitted of a female
exercising regal authority, was, from the scarcity of
men (pialified either by rank or talents for filling the
situation, actpiiesced in, especially by those who
wislied for ])eace, which they supposed, and justly,
a-, the event proved, slie might have some influence
ill i)rocuring. It was but a few months, however,
till she was married, and the (juestion then came to
be discussed anew, and with still greater violence.

Such a man as hdphinston was not to be siiared
t(j his country in this desperate crisis; fijr, as lie was
on his journey to lOdinburgh to attend a meeting of
parliament, he was taken ill by the way, and died on
the 25111 of October, 1 5 14, being in the eiglity-third
year (jf his age. He was, according to his own direc-
tions, buried in the collegiate church of Aberdeen.

Bl.-,hop Elphinston is one of those ornaments of the

DAVID STEWART ERSKIXE.

537

Catliolic church who sometimes appear in spite of
the errors of tliat faith, lie seems to have been a
really good and amiable man. He wrote, as has
been already remarked, the Lives of Scoltish Saints,
which are now lost. lie comj^osed also a history of
Scotland, fn^m the earliest period of her history down
to his own time, which is still preserved in the Hod-
leian Library at Oxford. It is said to consist of eleven
books, occujiying three hundred and eighty-four jmgcs
in folio, written in a small hand, and full of contrac-
tions, and to be nearly the same as Kordun, so that
we should suppose it scarcely worthy of the trouble
it would take to read it. Of all our Scottish bishops,
however, no one has been by our historians more
highly commentled than Bishop Elphinston. He
has been celebrated as a great statesman, a learned
and pious churchman, and one who gained the rever-
ence and the love of all men. He certainly left
behind him many noble instances of his piety and
public spirit; and it is highly to his honour that, not-
withstanding his liberality in building and endowing
Ills college, providing materials for a bridge over tlie
Dee, the large alms that he gave daily to the poor
and religious of all sorts, besides the help that he
afforded to his own kindred, he used solely the rents
of his own bishopric, having never held any place/;;
c^niimendam, as the general practice then was; and
he left behind him at his death ;(^I0,000 in gold and
silver, which he l)equeathed to the college, and to
tlie finishing and repairing of his bridge over the Dee.
As he was thus conspicuous, continues his bio-
grapher, for piety and charity, so he was no less
so for his having composed several elaborate treatises
that were <lestroyed at the Reformation. This
])anegyrist goes on to say "that there never was a
man known to be of greater integrity of life and
manners, it bjing ol)served of him that, after he
entered into huly orders, he was never known to do
or say an unseemly thing. But the respect and
veneration that he was held in may appear fiDin
what is related to have happened at the time of his
burial by tlie historians who lived near his time; for
they write that the day his corpse was brought forth
to be interred, the pastoral staff, which was all of
silver, and carried by Alexander Lauder, a priest,
broke in two pieces, one part thereof falling into the
grave where the corjise was to be laid, and a voice
was heard to cry. Tecum, GrLIKI.MK, yidra srpcli-
enda — With thee the mitre and glory thereof is
buried.''

ERSKIXE. TXvvin Stewart, Earl of Tuchan,
Lord Cardr )>s, was born on the 1st of June, 1 742,
<i.s., and was the eldest surviving son of Henry
David, tlie tenth earl, and Agnes, daughter'of Sir
James .'Stewart of (loodtrees, his majesty's siilieitur-
general f)r Sctlanil. He was educated " i:i all
manner of useful learning, and in the haljits of rigid
honour and virtue,'' under the care of |aines Bu-
chanan, a relation of tlie jioet and historian, and
learned the elements of the mathematics, historv, and
jiolitics from his lather, who had lieeii a scholar of tlie
cjlehrated Colin ^Laclaurin. .\t the university of
(ilasgow he engaged ardently in "every ingenious
and liberal study;" but what will be better re-
niembered, was lii> connection with the unf irtunate
ncademy of Foulis the ]>rinter. wliich he attended,
an 1 of his la!>..iu:s at wldcli he lia> left us a specimen,
in an etciiing of t!ie ahhey of leohnkill, in.-erted in
the t'ir>t voiunvj of tlie 7;-,;;.' ■,;/.'/<•;/,■ ,y' ,'/'.-c- Src:t:sli
AiiU'/uarics.

On the completion of his e'lucation. Lord Cardro-s
entered the arniy, bi;t never ri-e higlier than the
rank of lieutenant. Forsaking the ind/.arv l;fe. he

went to London, to pursue the study of diplomacy
under Lord Chatham; and, while there, was elected
a fellow of the Royal and Antiijuarian Societies. In
the following year, 1766, his lordship was appointed
secretary to the British embassy in .S]>ain; t)ut his
father having dietl thirteen months afterwards, lie
returned to his native country, determined to devote
the remainder of his life to the cultivation of litera-
ture and the encouragement of literary men.

The education of his younger brothers, Thomas,
afterwards the illustrious hjrd-chancellor, and Henry,
no less celebrated for his wit, seems to have occupied
a large portion of Lord Buchan's thoughts. 'J'o
accomplish these objects, he for years sul/mitted
to considerable privations. The family estate had
been scjuandered by former lords, and it is no small
credit to the earl that he ]iaid off debts for which he
was not legally responsible ; a cf)ursc of conduct
which should lead us to overlook parsimonious habits
acquired under very disadvantageous circumstances.

Lord Buchan's favourite study was the history-,
literature, and anticjuities of his native country. It
had long been regretted that no society had been
formed in .'scotland for the promotion of tlie-^e jjur-
suits ; and with a view to supi)lying this desideratum,
he called a meeting of the most eminent persons
resident in Edinburgh, on the 14th of November,
17S0. Fourteen assembled at his house in .St. .Xn-
drew Square, and an essay, which will be found in
Smellie's Account of the Society of Scottish Antiquai-ies,
p. 4-18, was read by his lordship. At a meeting
held at the same ])lace on the 2Sth, it was <ieter-
mined, that upon the iSth of December a society
should be formed upon the propo^ed model ; and,
accordingly, on the ilay fixed, the Earl of Bute
was elected president, and the Earl of Buchaii first
of five vice-i)residents. In 1792 the first volume of
their Transactions was jniblished ; and the following
discourses by the carl appear in it: — "Memoirs of
the Life of Sir James .'^tewart I)enham;"' " .\ccount
of the Parish of Uphall;" "Account of the Eland of
Icolmkill ;'' and a " Life of Mr. James .^hort, ojjti-
cian. " Besides these, he had [irinted, in conjunction
with Dr. Walter Mir.to, 17S7. ,-/// Account of the
Life, Writings, and /i::ci:!:c>!s if A'c'/.^v- of .lAr-
chiston.

In the same year his lnrd>hip retired from Edin-
burgh to re^i'Ie at Dryburgh .\bl)ey on account of
his liealth. Here he iiur^ued his favourite ,-tU'iies.
He instituted an annual fe-tive C"niniemi>ration of
Thom>on at that poet's native I'lace; and this oc-
ca-ion produced from the pen of Burns the bea'.:ti:ul
".\ddre-s" to the shade of the bard of Ldnam.
Tlie eulogy jironounced by the ii!u--trioi;~ ear! on !l;e
lir-t of these meetings, in 1701, i^ reniarkaliij. "I
think niy-eh' hai.jiy to have tlii> .lay tiie !i-;> ur . .f en.-
deavouring to do honour to the ineiivry ^A Tli'i:;;-^ n.
which ha- l)een jTofanely touched by the ru.ie liand
of Samuel Johns, m, \\ho~e faTiie an! ve; ;'.:;'.•.;■ n ::;-
dicate the decline of ta-te in a ^..;:n.t:y tii.v,. x.wx
having j.roducel an .\:lVed, a \\a'.;.i>e. a l.icn,
a N'apier. a Newton, :'. llv.Ll^ar.in. a M;.'.' :i, a
Hanij^len. a FletJier. and a ! !: n:--;. .an -ulani:
to be bullied by an ..v. ri.^a: ing _; . .'.n.t i" In i::e
T'l'iiowing vear I'.i- I"r'!-;ii:' [ i: ■.:■■:•. el an " L- re c^:
the Lircsfud \\'r:::iK.: cr' /■'.:! '. - . /".\;..- :i>: :;•.■./.''!.■
/•<■/ TnaKccu. /•/.;'•-■>•■•■■'. C'v/;:,:,'. ,;';,/ /: . ./..v.';
with seine I'-.eee- of d'honi — n'- luver l.el.re ] u','-
li-shed." Sv .^•

Lord BuJianhad c-ntrii'Uted to >everal i-er;' dical

■ Fr'
i r ::.

53S

EBENEZER ERSKIXE.

publications. In 1784 he communicated to the
Gentlentaiis Magazine "Remarks on the Progress of
the Roman Arms in Scotland during tlie Sixth Cam-
paign of Agricola," afterwards printed, with plates
and additions, by Dr. Jamieson, in the Bibliotheca
Topographica Britatinica. To Grose's Aiiiii/itities of
Scotland he gave a description of Dryburgh, with
views, taken in 1787 and 17S9. But his most fre-
quent assistance was given to The Bee, generally
under fictitious signatures. The last work which he
meditated was the collection of these anonymous
communications. Accordingly, in 1^12, The Anony-
mous and Fugitive Essays of the Earl of Biichan,
collected from various Periodical Works, appeared at
Edinburgh in l2mo. It contains the following short
preface: "The Earl of Buchan, considering his ad-
vanced age, has thought proper to publish this
volume, and meditate the publication of others, con-
taining his anonymous writings, that no person may
hereafter ascribe to him any others than are by him,
in this manner, avowed, described, or enumerated. "
The volume is wholly filled with his contributions
to The Bee; among which, in the department of
Scottish history, are "Sketches of the Lives of Sir
J. Stewart Denham, George Heriot, John Earl of
Marr (his ancestor), and Remarks on the Character
and Writings of William Drummond of Hawthorn-
den." The second volume did not appear.

His death did not, however, take place till seven-
teen years after this period ; but he was for several
years before it in a state of dotage. Few men have
devoted themselves so long and so exclusively to li-
terature ; his correspondence, both with foreigners
and his own countrymen, was very extensive, and
comprehended a period of almost three generations.
But his services were principally valuable, not as an
author, but as a patron : his fortune did not warrant
a very expensive exhibition of good offices ; but in
f\\ cases where his own knowledge, which was by
u) means limited, or letters of recommendation,
could avail, they were frankly and generously offered.
One of the works proposed by him was, A Commcr-
cium Epistolaruni and Literary History of Scotland,
during the period of Last Century, including the cor-
respondence of "antiquaries, typographers, and
bibliographists," in which he had the assistance of
Dr. Robert Anderson. It is exceedingly to be re-
gretted that such a work, and referring to so re-
markalile a period, should not have been presented
to the public. It might probably have had a con-
sivlerable portion of the garrulity of age; but, from
his lordship's very extensive ac(iuaintance with the
perio 1, it cannot be doubted that it would have con-
tained many facts which are now irretrieval:>ly lost.

ERSKINE. Rkv. Ebexe/.er, a celebrated divine,
and founder (jf tlic Secession Church in .Scotland, was
son to the Rev. Henry I'^skine, who was settled
minister at Cornhill, in Northumljerland, aliout the
year 1649; wlience he was ejected by the Bartholo-
mew act in the year 1662, and, after suffering many
hardshijis for his attachment to the cause of i'resb}-
tery, was, shortly after the Revolution, 1688, settled
pastor of the parish of Chirnside, I5erwickshire,
where he nni.--hed his course, in the month of August,
1696, in tile seventy-second year of his age. The
Rev. Henry Erskine was of tlie ancient family of
.Shielfield, in the Merse, descended from the noble
family of Marr, and Ebenezer was one of his younger
sons liy his second wife, Margaret Halcro, a native
of Orkney, the fjunder of whose family was Halcro,
Prince of Denmark, and whose great-grandmother
was the Lady Barbara Stuart, daughter to Roljert,
l*2arl of CJrkney, son to James V. of Scotland ; so

that his parentage was in every respect what the
world calls highly respectable. The place of his
birth has been variously stated. One account says it
was the village of Dryburgh, where the house occu-
pied by his father is still pointed out, and has been
carefully preserved, as a relic of the family; another
says it was the Bass, where his father was at the
time a prisoner for nonconformity. Be the place
of his birth as it may, the date has been ascertained to
have been the 22d day of June, 1 680; and the name
Ebenezer, "a stone of assistance," was given him by
his pious parents in testimony of their gratitude for
that goodness and mercy with which, amidst all their
persecutions, they had been unceasingly preserved.
Of his early youth nothing particular has been re-
corded. The elements of literature he received at
Chirnside, under the immediate superintendence of
his father, after wdiich he went through a regular
course of study at the university of Edinburgh.^
During the most part of the time that he was a stu-
dent, he acted as tutor and chaplain to the Earl of
Rothes, at Leslie House, within the presbytery of
Kirkcaldy, by which court he was taken upon trials,
and licensed to preach the gospel in the year 1702.

The abilities and the excellent character of Mr.
Erskine soon brought him into notice ; and in the
month of May, 1703, he received a unanimous call
to the parish of Portmoak, to the pastoral care of
which he was ordained in the month of September
following. During the year succeeding his settle-
ment, he was united in marriage to Alison Turpie,
a young woman of more than ordinary talents, and
of undoubted piety. To the experience of this ex-
cellent woman he was accustomed to acknowledge
to his friends, that he was indebted for much of that
accuracy of view by which he was so greatly dis-
tinguished, and to which much of that success which
attended his ministry is doubtless to be ascribed.
In the discharge of his ministerial duties he had
always been most exemplary. 13esides the usual ser-
vices of the Sabbath, he had, as was a very general
practice in the Church of Scotland at that period, a
weekly lecture on the Thursdays; but now his dili-
gence seemed to be doubled, and his object much
more pointedly to preach Christ in his person, oflices,
and grace, as at once wisdom, righteousness, sancti-
fication, and redemption to all who truly receive
and rest upon him. Even in his external manners
there appeared, from this time forward, a great and
important improvement. In public speaking he had
felt considerable embarrassment, and in venturing to
change his attitude was in danger of losing his ideas ;
but now he was at once master of his mind, his voice,
and his gestures, and by a manner most dignified
and engaging, as well as by the weight and the
importance of his matter, commanded deep and
reverential attention. 'Ihe impulse he had thus
received was manifested in the new ardour with
which he discharged his ministerial duties not only
in preaching, but in visiting from house to house,
comforting the sick, instnicting the ignorant, and
catecliising the young; and the effects of his diligence,
instead of Ijcing confined to his own locality, diffused
a symjiathetic ardour over the surrounding parishes,
so that Portmcxik was regarded as their centre and
exemplar.

In the midst of his labours an attem])t was made
to remove Mr. I'^skine from Portmoak to Kinross.
Though the call, however, was unanimous and urgent,
the affectionate efforts of the peojile of Portmoak

1 From the rcrords r>f tlie
appears that, in ii ijj, he was ;
IJieseiiteU by Priiiyle of Torw

t'>wn-coun(al of Falinljurph it
bursar in tlie university, being

EBEXEZER ERSKIXE.

539

were successful in preventing the desired translation.
Shortly after this Mr. Erskine received an equally
unanimous call to tiie parish of Kirkcaldy, which he
also refused, but a third minister being wanted at
vStirling, the Rev. Mr. Alexander Ilamilion, with the
whole population, gave him a pressing and unanimous
call, of wiiich, after having maturely deliberated on
the circumstances attending it, he felt it his duty to
accept. I le was accordingly, with the concurrence of
the courts, translated to Stirling in the autumn of
the year 1731, having discharged the pastoral office
in Portmoak for twenty-eight years. So strong was
the affection of the people of Portmoak to Mr.
Erskine, that several individuals removed to Stirling
along with him, that they might still enjoy the benefit
of his ministry ; he was also in the habit of visiting
them and preaching to them occasionally, till, through
the melancholy state of matters in the church, the
pulpits of all the parishes in Scotland were shut
against him.

In the new and enlarged sphere of action which
Mr. Erskine now occuiiied, he seemed to exert even
more than his usual ability. His labours here met
with singular acceptance, and ajipeared to be as
singularly blessetl; when an attempt was made, cer-
tainly little anticipated by his friends, and perhaps as
little by himself, to paralyze his efforts, to narrow
the sphere of his inlluence, and to circumscribe his
expression of thought and feeling ; an expression
which had long been painful and was now thought
to be dangerous to the party that had long been
dominant in ihe Scottish church, and were charged
with corrupting her doctrines and labouring to make
a sacrifice of her liberties at the shrine of civil author-
ity. T!iat they were guilty of the first of these
charges was alleged to be proved beyond the pos-
sibility of contradiction, by their conduct towards
the presljytery of Auchterarder, with regaril to what
has since been denominatcil the Auchterarder creetl,
so far back as the year 1 7 1 7 ; by their conduct towards
the twelve brethren known by the name of " Marrow
men,'' along with their acts against the doctrines of
the iiook entitled 'flu Mamm' of Modern Divinity,
in the years 1720 and 172I; and, more recently still,
by the leniency of ilieir dealings with Professor John
Simpson of Gla-gow, wlio, though found to have, in
his prelections to the divinity students, taught a
system of Deism rather than Christian theolog}-, met
with no higher censure tlian simple suspension. In
the contests occa>ioned by these different questions,
Mr. Erskine had been early engaged. lie had re-
fused the oath of abjuration, and it was owing to a
charge preferreti against him by the Rev. Mr. An-
der?on of St. Andrews, before the commission of the
{ ieacral .Assembly, for having spoken against such as
had taken it, tliat his first printed serm<")n, God's
I.ittio Roiiuiaut A'iV/'ni^- tlioir Garmonts Clciin, was,
along with some others, given to the public in the
year 1 725, many years after it had been ]ireached.
In t!ie defence of the doctrine of the Mjri\Ki< of
M.'d.rn D:-!i!:!y. he had a jirincipal hand in the
rep"e'enta;i()a and ])etition presented to the assembly
\.)\\ the -•■,l!)ject. May t!ie Ilth. 172I; which. lhou:^h
originally conipn^ed I'v Mr. Ho-tDii, was revised and
perfectcil by him. lie alMi drew up tlie original
draught of the an-wer^ l'> the twelve <iucries that
were put to the twelve bretliren, wliich wa-. afler-
war.l^ perfecte 1 by Mr. (iabriel \Vi!>nn of .Maxlim,
one of the m.wt luiainous ]> eces nt thenl>gy t') be
found in any language. .Mnr.gwiih his brethren,
for his share in thi> goiid work, he wa^ by the
General A>seinli;y solemnly rebuked and adinoni--l'.ed,
and wa^ along with tliem reviled i:i many .-currilou,^
publications \'\ lae d.iy, a^ a man of wild anttr.oniian

principles, an innovator in religion, an impugner of
the Confession of Kaith and Catechisms, an enemy to
Christian morality, a troubler of Israel, and pulTed
up with vanity in the pride and arrogancy of his
heart, anxious to Ije exalted alx)ve his brethren.
These uncharitable assumjHions found their way even
into the pulpits, and frequently t'lgurctl in synod
semions and other public di^courses. Owing to the
Vehemence of Princijjal lladdow ui St. Andrews,
who, from ]>ers<jnal i>ique at .Mr. llogg of Carnock,
the original publisher of the Marrtno in .Scotland,
took the lead in imiJUgning the doctrines of tliat
book, Mr. Ebenezer Erskine and his four represent-
ing brethren in that quarter, James Hogg, James
Bathgate, James Wardlaw, and Ralph ilrskine, were
treated with marked .severity. At several meetings
of synod they were o|)enly accused and subjected lo
the most incpiisitorial examinations. .Xltemjls were
also repeatedly made to compel them to sign anew
the Confession of Faith, not as it was originally re-
ceived by the Church of Scotland in the year 1647,
but as it was explained by the obnoxious act of 1722.
These attempts, however, had utterly failed, and the
jjublication of so many of Mr. Erskine's sermons had
not only refuted the foolish calumnies that had l)een
so industriously set afloat, but had prodigiously in-
creased his rejiutation and his general usefulness.

The same year in which Mr. Erskine was removed
to Stirling, a paper was given in to the General
Assembly, com[>laining of the violent settlements that
were so generally taking place throughout the coun-
try, which was not so much as allowed a hearing.
This induced upwards of fifty-two ministers, of whom
the subject of this memoir was one, to draw up at
large a representation of the almost innumerable evils
under which the Church of Scotland was groaning,
and which threatened to subvert her ver\- f(jundat:on>.
To jirevent all olijections on the formality of this
representation, it was carefully signed antl res]iect-
fully presented, according to the order pointed out
in such cases; but neither could this obtain so much
as a hearing. .So far was the a.»endjly from being
in the least degree affected with the mournful >tate
of the church, and listening to the groans of an
afflicted but submissive people, that they su.-.tained
the settlement of .Mr. Stark at Kinross, one of tliC
most palpable intrusions ever made ujion aCliri-iian
congregation, and they enjoinetl the pre.-bytery wl.o
had refused to receive him a.s a bristlier, to enrol his
name on their li>t. and to grant n(.) church ]rivileges
to any individual of the pari.-h of Kinros>. but ujion
Mr. Stark's letter of recommendation requiring or
allowing them so to do, and this in the face of the
probytery's declaration that Mr. .^tark had l)eL-.i
imposed on the parish of Kir.ross, and uj on thetii,
by the simple fiat of the patron. .\ga;ii-! thi.> de-
cision protects and dissent^ were j-re-eiited by iv.at.y
individuals, but liy a previous law tl'.ey \\:A [ ro\.di ;
that r.othiii'' of the kind sliould heiict T rth bj er.ter-.t

Ujion tile journals of the court-,
subortlinate. thus leaving no ro,
exonerate their own coi:>cie;ice-
record of the op'i)o>it;.in that h:
partures from e-tal)li-]ied and l;
innovations upon tac;tly ackr,"V.
priety and good or^ier.

d'liis same a>-einb!y. r.- ;t ?--,
the i)0";l)ility of p^ ■; i-.ii.-a- c".:
future perioil revive!. ; :oci.e ;>
staiiiiing l.iw an o\e;f.:e oi
esiabli-liir. - a i!

v\ lietner

>ni f ir ill'

churcr.e-. w lit.
I should tall int

■iin i::e;ii
?.v.\ time

't 1

540

EBENEZER ERSKINE.

terested in the settlement. This uniform method
■was simply the conferring the power of suffrage, in
country parishes, on heritors being Protestant, no
matter though they were Episcopalians, and elders;
ill burghs, on magistrates, town-council, and elders;
— and in burghs with landward parishes joined, on
magistrates, town-council, heritors, and elders joined;
and this to continue " till it should jilease God in his
providence to relieve this church from the grievances
arising from the act restoring patronages." This
act was unquestionably planned by men to whom
patronage presented no real grievances, and it was
itself nothing but patronage modified very little for
the better. But the authors of it had the art to pass
it off upon many simple well-meaning men, as con-
taining all that the constitution of the Scottish church
had ever at any time allowed to the body of the
people, and as so moderately worded that tlie govern-
ment could not but be amply satisfied that no danger
could arise from its exercise, and of course would
give up its claims upon patronage without a murmur.
In consequence of this, tlie act passed through the
assembly with less opposition than even in the de-
cayed state of the church miglit have been expected.
In fact it passed ihrougli the court at the expense of
its very constitution. By the barrier act, it has been
wisely provided, that no law shall be enacted by the
assembly, till, in the shape of an overture, it has
been transmitted to every presbytery in the church,
a majority of whose views in its favour must be ob-
tained before it be made the sul:)ject of deliberation.
In tliis case it had been transmitted; but eigliteen
presbyteries had not made the required return,
eighteen approved of it with material alterations,
and thirty-one were absolutely against it; so that the
conduct of the party who pushed this act into law
was barefaced in the extreme. Nor was the attempt
to persuade the ])eople that it contained tlie true
meaning and spirit of the standards of the church
less so. Tlie first Book of Discipline, compiled in the
year 1560, and ratified by act of parliament in the
year 1567, says expressly, "No man should enter in
the ministry witliout a lawful vocation: the lawful
vocation standeth in the election of tlie people,
examination of the ministry, and admission by both."
And as if the above were not plain enough, it is
added, "No minister should ])e intruded upon any
particular kirk without their consent." The second
/)Ooko/J)iscipli!ie, agreed upon in the General Assem-
bly, 157S, inserted in their registers 1581, sworn to
in ilie national covenant the same year, revived and
ratified by the famous assemlily at Glasgow in tlie
year 163S, and according to wliich the government
of the church was establi.shed first in the year 1592,
and again in the year 1640, is equally explicit on tliis
head: " \'ocatioii or calling is common to all that
should b'jar oiTice within the kirk, which is a lawful
way by the which qualified persons are promoted to
s;)iritual oifice within the kirk of (iod. Without this
lawful calling, it was never Icisome to any to meddle
with any function ecclesiastical." After s])eaking of
vocation as extraordinary and ordinary, the com-
]iilers state "this ordinary and (jutwanl calling" to
c )nsist f>f " two parts, election and ordination."
J'llection they state to be "the choosing out of a
])crson or persons most able to the riffice tliat vakes,
by the judgment of the eldership [the presbytery],
and consent of the congregation to which the ])ers on
or persons shall i)e ajipointed. In the order of elec-
tion is to be eschcwecl, that any ]ierson be intruded
i'l any office of the kirk, contrary to the will of tlv.'
congregation to which they are ajipointed, or without
the voice of the eldership," not the eldershlji or
session of the cijngregalion to which the jierson is to

be appointed, as has been often ignorantly assumed;
but the eldership or presbytery in whose bounds the
vacant congregation lies, and under whose charge it
is necessarily placed in a peculiar manner, by its
being vacant, or without a public teacher. In per-
fect unison with the above, when the articles to be
reformed are enumerated in a following chapter,
patronage is one of the most prominent, is declared
to have "flowed from the pope and corruption of
the canon law, in so far as thereby any person was
intruded or placed over kirks having cm-am aiiifn-
arum; and forasmuch as that manner of proceeding
hath no ground in the word of God, but is contrary
to the same, and to the said liberty of election, they
ought not now to have place in this light of reforma-
tion; and, therefore, whosoever will embrace God's
word, and desire the kingdom of his Son Christ Jesus
to be advanced, they will also embrace and receive
that policy and order, which the word of God and
upright state of this kirk crave; otherwise it is in
vain that they have professed the same." Though
the church had thus clearly delivered her opinion
with regard to patronages, she had never been able
to shake herself perfectly free from them, excepting
for a few years previous to the restoration of Charles
II., when they were restored in all their mischievous
power and tendencies ; and the revolution church
being set down, not upon the attainments of the
second, but upon the less clear and determinate ones
of the first reformation, patronage somewhat modi-
fied, with other evils, was entailed on the country.
Something of the light and heat of the more recent,
as well as more brilliant period still, however, re-
mained; and in the settlement of the church made by
the parliament in the year 1690, patronage in its
direct form was set aside, not as an antichristian
abomination, and incompatible with Christian lilierty,
as it ought to have been, but as "inconvenient and
subject to abuse." Though this act, however, was
the act only of a civil court, it was less remote from
Scripture and common sense, than this act of the
highest ecclesiastical court in the nation. By that
act " upon a vacancy, the heritors, being Protestants"
(by a subsequent act it was provided that they should
be qualified Protestants), "and the elders, are to
name and propose the person to the whole con-
gregation, to be either approven or disapproven by
them; and if they disaj^prove, the disaiqirovers to
give in their reasons, to the effect the affair may be
cognosced by the presbytery of the bounds, at whose
judgment, and by whose determination the calling
and entry of a particular minister is to be ordered
and concluded." By this act, which we by no means
admire, the heritors, it would appear, might have
])roposed one canilidate to the congregation, and the
elders another; nor whether there was but one can-
didate or two, had the election been comjdcted till
the congregaticjn had given their voice. But hy the
assembly's act, the heril(us and the elders elected as
one body; the work was by them com])leted; and,
however much the congregation might be dissatisfied,
except they could ])rove the elected person immoral
In conduct or erronef)Us in doctrine, they had no
resource but to submit quietly to the choice (jf their
siqieriors, the heritors and the ciders.

'1 he act of 1690 was liable to great abuse; yet, by
the jirudent conduct of presl)yteries, conqilaints were
fir many years comparatively few, and but for the
restoration of ])atrons to their antichristian power,
mi-lu have continued to be so long enough. I'or
ten or twelve years previous to this peiiod (1732)
[Mtrons had been gaining ground every year, ami this
;u:t was unquestionably intended to accommodate any
little appearance of liberty which remained in the

EliENEZER ERSKINE.

541

Scottish church to the genius of patronage, which
was now by the leaders of the dominant party declared
the only sure if not legitimate door of entrance to
the benefice, whatever it might be to the affections
and the spiritual edification of the people. The
measure, however, was incautious and premature.
There was a si>irit abroad which the ruling faction
wanted the means to break, and which their frequent
attempts to bend ought to have taught them was
alreatly far beyond their strength. As an overture
and an interim act, it had been almost universally
condemned; and now that it was made a standing
law, w ithout having gone through the usual forms,
and neither protest, dissent, nor remonstrance allowed
to be entered against it, nothing remained for its op-
ponents but, as occasion offered, to testify against it
from the pulpit or the press, which many embraced
the earliest opportunity of doing. Scarcely, indeed,
had the members of assembly reached their respec-
tive homes with the report of their proceedings, when,
in the evening of the .Sab!)atli, June 4th, in a sennon
from Isaiah ix. 6, the suh)ject of this memoir attacked
the obnoxious act with such force of argument as was
highly gratifying to its opponents, but peculiarly
galling to its abettors, who were everywhere, in the
course of a few days, by the loud voice of general
report, informed of the circumstance, with manifold
exag, aerations. Public, however, as this condemna-
tion of the act of assembly was, Mr. Erskine did not
think it enough. Having occasion, as late moderator,
to open the synod of Perth on the loth day of Oc-
tober, the same year, taking for his text Psalm
cxviii. 22, "The stone which the builders rejected,
the same is made the head stone of the corner," he
delivered himself on the disputeil points more at
large, and with still greater freedom. In this ser-
mon Mr. Erskine a.sserted, in its full breadth, the
doctrine which we have above proved, from her stan-
dards, to have all along been the doctrine of the
Church of Scotland — that the election of a minister
belon;_;ed to the whole body of the people. "The
promise," said he, keeping up the figure in the text,
"of conduct and counsel in the choice of men that
are to build is not made to patrons and heritors, or
any otiier set of men, but to the church, the body of
Christ, to whom apostles, prophets, evangelists,
pastors, and teachers are given. As it is a natural
privilege of every house or society of men to have
the choice of their own servants or officer, so it is the
privilege of the house of God in a particular manner.
Wiiat a miscral)le liondage would it be reckoned for
any family to have stewards or servants imposed on
tliem by strangers, who might give the children a
stone for bread, or a scorpicin instead of a fish, poison
instea'.l of medicine; ami sliall we suppose that our
Cioil grantetl a power to any set of men, patrons,
heritors, or whatever they be — a power to inijiose
serviut-; on his family, tlu-y being the purest society
in tlie world I '

Tills verj- plain and lioniLly passage, which, for
the truth it contains, and the noble spirit of liberty
which it breathes, deserves to be written with an
iron jien and lead in the rock for ever, gave great
otle'.icj to many nieinber^ "i >yiiod, and jiarticularly
to Mr. Mercer of .\herd.il-ie. who moved that
Mr. llr>kine should be rehv.kcd fir his freedom
of speech, and admonished t<i be more circumspect
for the future. This produced t!ie appointment of a
committee to draw out the pas>a'_;es comjdained of;
which being done, and Mr. l'>-ki:ie relu-ing to re-
tract anything he had said, the wh'>le wa-b.i i 1 cfore
the syn.'>d. The synod, after a debate of tl'.ree days,
found, bv a plurality of six voices, Mr. Kr,-k;ne cer- ]
surable, and ordered him to l,e rebuked and a-Ir.io:;- I

ished at their bar accordingly. The presbyter}' of
Stilling was also instructed to notice his behaviour in
time coming at their privy censures, and report to
the next meeting of syno<i. Against this sentence
Mr. Erskine entered his protest, and appealed to the
General Assembly. Mr. Alexander Moncrief of
Abernethy also protested against this sentence, in
which he was joined by a numljer of his brethren,
only two of whom, Mr. William Wilson of Perth,
and .Mr. Fisher of Kinclaven, .Mr. Erskine's son-in-
law, became eventually seceders. Firm to their pur-
pose, the synod, on the last sederunt of their meet-
ing, called Mr. Erskine up to be rebuked ; and he
not appearing, it was resolved that he should Ik; re-
buked at their next meeting in .April. Pervjnal [-ique
against Mr. Erskine, and envy of his extensive popu-
larity, were unfortunately at the bottom of this pro-
cedure, which, as it increased that popularity in a
tenfold degree, heightened proportionally the angrv
feelings of his opponents, and rendered them incapable
of improving the few months that elapsed between
the meeting of synod for taking a more cool and
dispassionate view of the sul>ject. The synod met
in April under the same excitation of feeling; aivl
though the presbytery and the kirk-session of Stir-
ling exerted them.selves to the utmost in order to
bring about an accommodation, it was in vain: the
representations of the first were dis.'-egarded, and the
petition of the other was not so much as read. .Mr.
Erskine being called, and comjiearing, simply told
them that he adhered to his apj^eal. There canii(;t
be a doubt l)ut that tlie synod v.as encouraged to
persevere in its wayward course by the leaders of tlie
assembly, who were now resolved to lay prostrate
every shadow of opposition to their measures. Ac-
cordingly, when the assembly met in the month 1 f
May following, 1733, they commenced proceeding-;
by t.aking up the ca.se of Mr. Stark, the intruder
into the parish of Kinross and the pre.-bytery nf
Dunfermline, which they finished in the highest style
of authority, probably, in part, for the ver\- purp-o-.j
of intimidating such as might be di.-iiosed to betrien I
Mr. Erskine on this momentous occasion. Muhi-
tudes, it was well known, aj^proved of every word
Mr. Erskine had said; Init when it was nwle aj-
parent with what a high hand they were to lie treated,
if they took any part in tlie matter, even those uho
widied him a safe deliverance might be afraid to take
his part. Probably he himself was not v.ithiut pair.-
ful misgivings when he beheld the ti'ie of auth.i'rity
thus rolling resistlessly along; but he h.ad con-.miued
himself, and neither honour nor conscience wi uld
allow him to desert the prominence on which, in tlie
exercise of his duty, he had come to 1,'e ] laced.,
though, for the time, it was covered with darkr.e^-,
and .seemed to be surrounded with danger. lli^ .ip-
peal to the assembly he supported byreas-i's a!;ke
admirable, whether we con-ider their ]i'.:r.te'! 1 tar-
ing on the subject, the piety th.at n;ii- thr^u-t; ll.eni,
or the noble spirit of indeiieivieiic-- w hi.h tlu \ ! r^.v.hc.
The rea.sons of his appeal were t.ve, 1! w!-.;ih v,e i.-.n
only give a feeble outline. 1st, T!:e :".: .tterc! >;.:.t
of the greater ]>art of tb.e -\nMd,. by w!.:Ji tli: y were
evidently inca[iable of gi\i;g ."ii iir.: ."rt:.-.i ;v.> ..:ir.e:,;.
2d. The tendency of -i:^h yy^-tj'lv.rc to ^.-.g the
mouths of tho-e wim, by tiu-ir c :v.r..;--;. :;. i;\',;~t i:-c
all boldness and tVee<i< ni in lie.ilin^- with the e"!,-
.sciences of men. 3;. I'.ecan-e. t'. ;:^h tV.e -_\;.' I
had found him cen-nr.i' !e. t!-ey iia i ci nde-cn'it i < :i
no one ] art >'( tile trnth . f ( ;• -T- w ■ r-d. or the < .^;:-
dards of th;- >.in;rih. tV.ini v.Wwh he had recede:.
4tli, The cen-;:ri : >.\; re-i :>, viewed ali-tra;;>.-
from the ci 'inniittee'- nm.irk-. v. hiji tlie syi,o,i r'.j-.
owned, are r,'.". or.'.v motieris.-. c. but either ~cr;;.lura»

542

EBENEZER ERSKINE.

or natively founded on Scripture. The fifth reason
regarded the obnoxious act of assembly, against
which he could not retract his testimony, and which
the synod, by their procedure, had made a term of
ministerial communion, which, for various reasons,
he showed could not be so to him. On all these
accounts he claimed, "from the equity of the vener-
able assembly," a reversal of the sentence of the
synod. To Mr. Erskine's appeal Mr. James Fisher
gave in his name as adhering. Reasons of protest
were also given in by Mr. Alexander Moncrief and
a number of ministers and elders adhering to him,
fraught with the most cogent arguments, though
couched in the modest form of supplication rather
than assertion. But they had all one fate, viz. were
considered great aggravations of Mr. Erskine's
original offence. The sentence of the synod was
confirmed, and, to terminate the process, Mr. Er-
skine appointed to be rebuked and admonished by
the moderator at the bar of the assembly, which was
done accordingly. Mr. Erskine, however, declared
that he could not submit to the rebuke and admoni-
tion, and gave in a protest for himself, Mr. Wilson,
Mr. Moncrief, and Mr. Fisher, each of w-hom de-
manded to be heard on their reasons of appeal, but
were refused — Mr. Moncrief and Mr. Wilson imme-
diately by the assembly, and Mr. Fisher by the com-
mittee of bills refusing to transmit his reasons, which
were, in consequence, left upon the table of the
house. The paper was titled "Protest by Mr. Eben-
ezer Erskine and others, given into the assembly,
1733." "Although I have a very great and dutiful
regard to the judicatures of this church, to whom I
own subjection in the Lord, yet, in respect the as-
sembly has found me censurable, and have tendered
a rebuke and admonition to me for things I conceive
agreeable to the Word of God and our approven
standards, I find myself obliged to protest against the
foresaid censure, as importing that I have, in my
doctrine, at the opening of the synod of Perth, in
October last, departed from the Word of God and
the foresaid standards, and that I shall be at liberty
to preach the same truths of God, and to testify
against the same or like defections of this church upon
all proper occasions. And I do hereby adhere unto
the testimonies I have formerly emitted against the
act of assembly, 1732, whether in the protest entered
against it in open assembly, or yet in my synodical
sermon, craving this my ]irotest and declaration be
inserted in the records of assembly, and that I be
allowed extracts thereof: Ebenezer JCrskine." "We,
undersigned subscribers, dissenters from the sentence
of the synod of Perth and Stirling, do hereby adhere
to the above protestation and declaration, containing
a testimony against tlie act of assembly, 1732, and
asserting our privilege and duty to testify ]HiblicIy
again-.t the same or like defections upon all jjroper
occasions: William Wikon, .'Mexander Moncrief"
"I, Mr. James Fisher, minister at Kinclaven, ap-
pidlant against the synod of Perth in this cjuestion,
although tlie committee of bills did not think fit to
transmit my reasons of a])])eal, find myself obliged to
allure unto the foresaid ])rotestati')n and declaration:
[ames Fisher." This paper being referred to a coni-
mittce. tliat committee returned it with the following
overture, which by a great majority of tlie a>>eml)ly
•was instantly turned into an act: — "The (icneral
A-seml)ly ordains that the four brethren aforesaid ap-
]v,'ar before the commission in August next, and then
show their sorrow for their conduct and mi-l)eliaviour
in offering to jjrotest, and in giving in to this assem-
bly the jjaper liy them subscribed, and that they then
rjtract the same. And in case they do not ajiprar
before the said commission in Au:^ust, and then show

their sorrow, and retract as said is, the commission
is hereby empowered and appointed to suspend the
said brethren, or such of them as shall not obey,
from the exercise of their ministry. And farther, in
case the said brethren shall be suspended by the said
commission, and that they shall act contrary to the
said sentence of suspension, the commission is hereby
empowered and appointed, at their meeting in No-
vember, or any subsequent meeting, to proceed to a
higher censure against the said four brethren, or such
of them as shall continue to offend by transgressing
this act. And the General Assembly do appoint the
several presbyteries of which the said brethren are
members to report to the commission in August and
subsequent meetings of it, their conduct and behaviour
with respect to this act." The four brethren, on
this sentence being intimated to them, offered to read
the following as their joint speech : — "In regard the
venerable assembly have come to a positive sentence
without hearing our defence, and have appointed the
commission to execute the sentence in August, in
case we do not retract what we have done, we cannot
but complain of this uncommon procedure, and de-
clare that we are not at liberty to take this affair into
avisajidiivi." The assembly, however, would not
hear them, and they left their paper on the table under
form of instrument.

This sentence excited a deep sensation in every
corner of the country, and when the four brethren, as
they were now called, appeared before the commission
in the month of August, numerous representations
were presented in their behalf, stating the evils
that were likely to result from persevering in the
measures that had been adopted towards them, and
recommending caution and delay as the only means
whereby matters might be accommodated, and the
peace of the church preserved. On Mr. Erskine's
behalf, especially, the petitions were urgent, and the
testimonials to his character strong. "Air. Erskine's
character," say the presbytery of Stirling in their
representation to the commission, "is so established
amongst the body of professors of this part of the
church, that we believe even the authority of an
assembly condemning him cannot lessen it, \ea, the
condemnation itself, in the present case, will tend to
heighten it, and in his case, .should the sentence be
executed, most lamentable consetiuenccs would ensue,
and most melancholy divisions will be increased; the
success of the gos])el in our bounds hindered ; re-
jjroach, clamour, and noise will take place; our con-
gregations be torn in pieces; ministers of Christ \\\\\
be deserted and misrepresented ; and our enemies
will rejoice over us. The same evils were ?\)-
prehended by the kirk ses-,i(in of Stirling, and the
observations of both presbytery and session were
confirmed by the tcjwn council. — "We beg leave,"
say they, "briefly to represent that Mr. Erskine
was settlefl as an ordained minister amongst us for
tile greater edification of the ]ilncc, and that with no
small trouble and expense — that we have ahvavs lived
in good friendshi]) with him, after now two full years'
acquaintance — that we find him to be of a jieace-
al)le disposition of mind, and of a religious walk
and conversation, and to be every way filled anil
qualified fir diseharging the office of the ministry
aniong>t us, and that he has according!}- discharged
the same to our great satisfaction — that, therefire, our
lieing <leprived of liis ministerial performances niiist
undoubtedly he very moving and afnicti\'e to us, and
that the putting the foresaid act (the act of suspension)
into execution, we are afraid, will in all liki'lihood be
attended with very lamentable circumstances, con-
fusions, and disorders, too numerous and tedious to
ije here rehearsed, and that iujI only in this place in

EBENEZER ERSKINE.

543

particular, l)Ut also in the church in general." The
kirk session and town council of I'erth presented each
a representation in favour of Mr. Wilson, as did the
presbyteries of Dunblane and Ellon, prayinj^ the
cjnimisbion to wait at least for the instructions of
another assembly. Fii'l of the spirit of the assembly
which had appointed it, however, the commission
was deaf to all admonitions, refusing to read, or even
to allow any of these representations to be read,
with the exccptiim of a small portion of that from
the presbytery of Stirling, which might be done as
a mark of res]K-ct to Mr. Erskine's character, or it
might be intended to awaken the envy and rage of
his enemies. Mr. Erskine ])repared himself a pretty
full representation, as an appellant from the sentence
of the .synod of Perth and .Stirling, as did also Mr.
James Kisher. Messrs. Wilson and Moncricf, as
protestors against that sentence, gave in papers,
under form of instrument, insisting upon it as their
right to chose their own mode of defence, which
was by writing. Mr. Erskine was allowed, with
some difficulty, to read his paper, but none of the
others could obtain the like indulgence, so they
delivered the substance of them in speeches at the
bar. They did not differ in substance from those
formerly given in, and of which we have already
given the reader as liberal specimens as our limits
will permit. "In regartl they were not convicted
of departing from any of the received principles of
the Church of Scotland, or of counteracting their
ordination vows and engagements; they protested
that it should be lawful and warrantable for them
to exercise their ministp,- as heretofore they had
tlone ; and that they should not be chargealile with
any of the lamentable eflects that might follow upon
tlie course taken with them." The commission,
without any hesitation, suspended them from the
exercise of the ministerial function in all its parts.
Against this sentence they renewed their protesta-
tions, and paid no regard to it, as all of them
confessed wlien brought before the commission in
the month of Xovemher. Applications in their
bjhalf were more numerous at the meeting of the
commis ion in Xovembjr, than they had been in
August, and they had the advantage of those of
August, in tliat tliL-y were read. The jiraycr of them
all was delay; and it carried in the commission, to
proceed to a higher censure only by the casting vote
of Mr. Goldie (or ClDwdie), the moderator. Tlie
sjntence was pronounced on tlie i6th day of Xovem-
ber, 1733, to tiie following etT^'ct: — "The commis-.ion
of the (Icneral Assembly did, and hereliy do, loose
the pastoral relation of Mr. Ebe;iezer Erskine, min-
ister at Stirling, Mr. William Wilson, minister at
I'erth, Mr. .Mexandcr Moncrief, minister at Aber-
ne'.hy, and Mr. Jainc-; I'i^her, minister at Kinclavcn.
to their said re-.;),vtivc charges; and do declare them
'vi longer ministers of tiiis church. And do hereby
icohiijit all miiii-tcr^ nf thi< church to emjiloy them,
III- any of llicni, in any ministerial function. And
tiu' commie-ion do docl.ire the churches of the said
Messrs. l-',r.-'vi'X'. Wil- m, Moncrief, and I''isher,
^■^l'ant from an! after th,- date of this sentence."
lixtrac's were ai>o. l.y t'.ie '^entenc-, ordered to be
-ent w'nh jjtt.'i-. to the S';\cr:il prj^'n'ti-rie-. in wiiose
b)un'N the >ai 1 i;iini-tcr> had tiieir charge--, ordering
intiinati ui of the .-en"en,;e to lie mi'le in the >everal
vacant cliurclie-. Letters i:'.tiinaiing tlie eontence
w^'re a]<o ordered to the niag->trate-; of Perth and
Slniiiig, to the slu-riff ])iinciiial of Perth, and bailie
of the regalitv of A!'L.'ri!e;!i\-. .\gain>t thi^ sentence
Mr. Erskine an ! hi- l^vtiiren took the following
protestation, w'.iili ir.ay !"j co:--; iere 1 a- tlie ba-i^.
or con.-tilutio'i, vi the S.cjs-ion Chin-cli. "Wc

hereby adhere to the protestation formerly entered
before this court, both at their last meeting in August,
and when wc appeared before this meeting. And
farther, we do protest, in our own name, and in the
name of all and every one in our respective congre-
gations adhering to us, that, notwithstanding of this
sentence passed against us, our pastoral relation shall
be held and rejiuted firm and valid. And, like-
wise, we jirotest that, notwithstanding of our Ix-ing
cast out from ministerial communion with the
Established Church of .Scotland, wc still hold com-
munion with all and every one who desire, with us,
to adhere to the ])rinciples of the true Presbyterian
Church of Scotland, in her doctrine, worship, govern-
ment, and discipline, and particularly witli all who
are groaning under the evils, and who are afflicted
with the grievances we have been complaining of,
and who are, in their several spheres, wrestling
against the same. But in regard the prevailing pany
in this Established Church, who have now cast us
out from ministerial communion with them, are
carrying on a course of defection from our ref nnied
and covenanted princijjles, and particularly are sup-
pressing ministerial freedom and faithfulness in
testifying against the present backslidings, and
inflicting censures upon ministers for witnessing, by
protestations and otherwise, against thesan-.e: There-
fore we do, for these and many other weighty reasons.
to be laid open in due time, protest that we are
obliged to make a secession from them, ai. 1 that we
can hold no ministerial communion with them till
they see their sins and mistakes, and amend them :
and in like manner we do protest that it shall be
lawful and warrantable for us to exercise the keys
of doctrine, discipline, and government, r.ccorditig
to the Word of Ciod, and Confession of Faith, and
the principles and constitution of the covenanted
Church of Scotland, as if no such censure had been
passed upon us; u])on all which we take instruments.
And we do hereby apjieal to the first free, faithful,
and reforming Cieneral .Assembly of tlie Ciiurch f>i
Scotland." Mr. Caliriel Wilson, of Ma\to!i, one of
the eleven brethren who, thirteen years before this.
had been joitied with Mr. Erskiiie in the defence of
the A/tirriKi', took a protest against th.e sentence nt
the same time, which was adhered to by Ka:;'i
ICrskine, Dunfermline; Thomas Muir, ()rv.^':l; _b "".n
Maclaurin, Edinburgh; John Currie. Kirgla-sie,
afterwards the most bitter enemy of the secessin:; ;
lames ^\'ardlaw, Dunfermline, atid Tlionias \airr..
Alihotsl;,ilI; tlie greater part of wlioni lived ;•■
advance tlie interests of the sece~si(i;i.

In this vieilent struggle fir the church's and •.!-.,_•
peojile's liberties. Mr. Erskine was ably siijiported
1)V his three brethren, Messrs. Wilson. Moncrief.
and l-'isher, and his popularity was exteniie 1 beyond
what might be sui.j„i,cd reasonable iinrts. IPs
i!i clung to him with increa-ing t-n, h:e-~.

congrega
and ills uorth\ coileagne,
during the short time he
secession, ceased not to sh
bv jiraving pul>licly both
prcshvterv. Tliis pre-'oN
soleni"!! prayer by Mr. V.':
Hrid'e, ivar Kin.-os~. ,.n

t!ie great
iing'.iav
■iaterTe^l-

yj.n

Mr. M
live! a

Ilie

thi;

Ass ,

breihyen; 't-r th-:;
Tlionias \p,:ir wete
they were only sj.^
jiut theniseiN'es in
la-oceed f t ~ -nie y.
tiian I'uI'li-hin ' ; ,"

had t:

'544

EBEXEZER ERSKINE.

in which they were engaged: these were a review of
the narrative and state of the proceedings against
them, issued by a committee of the commission of
the General Assembly, published in March, 1734;
and a testimony to the doctrine, worship, and govern-
ment of the Church of Scotland, or reasons for their
protestation entered before the commission of the
General Assembly, in November, 1 733, &c. This
has been since known by the name of the extrajudicial
testhnony.

In these papers Mr. Erskine had his full share,
and they had an effect upon the public mind which
alarmed the ruling faction in the church not a
little, and drove them upon measures which could
hardly have been anticipated. The friends of the
seceders indeed made an extraordinary bustle, many
of them from no sincere motives, some of them
anxious to heal the breach, and others of them only
anxious for a pretext to stand by and do nothing in
the matter. The leaders of the assembly, too, fear-
ful of the consequences of a system that was untried,
were willing to concede something at the present
time to outraged orthodoxy, knowing well that
though they could not recall the past, they might
yet, by a semblance of moderation, preserve on their
side a num!)er of the more timid of the friends of the
seceders who had not yet declared themselves, by
which the schism, though not totally healed, might
be greatly circumscribed. Accordingly, the next
assembly when it met in the month of May, 1734,
was found to be of a somewhat different complexion
from a number that had preceded it. There was
still, however, as one of its members and its great
admirer has remarked, "the mighty opposition of
great men, ruling elders, who had a strong party in
the house to support them," and who took effectual
care that nothing should be done in the way of
reformation, further than might be justified by a cal-
culating worldly policy. In passing the commission
book, sundry reservations were made of a rather
novel kind, and among others, the sentence passed
against Mr. Erskine and his three brethren. The
act of 1730, forbidding the registering of dissents,
and the act of 1732, concerning the planting of
vacant churches, were both declared to be no longer
binding rules in the church. The synod of Perth
and .Stirling were also empowered to take up the
case of Mr. I'Irskine, and without inquiring into the
legality or justice of any of the steps that had been
taken on cither side, restore the harmony and peace
of the church, and for this purpose they were to meet
on the first Tuesday of July next.

Never had any synod before tliis such a task en-
joined them. The preceding assembly had enjoined
its commission tr) do all that had been done toward
.Mr. Erskine and his friends. This assembly enjoins
the synod to reverse all that had been done by the
commission, l>ut with the express promise, that they
shall not take it upon them to judge either of the
legality or the formality of the proceedings they were
thus ordered to reverse. Upon what principle was the
synod to proceed? If the sentence of the commission
was ])ronounced on proper grounds, anrl the subjects
of it had given no signs of rejientancc, the assembly
itself coukl not warrantablynor consistently t.ake it off.
Tiiis, "the great men, the niling elders, who had
a strong jtarty in the house to sujjport them," were
jjerfectly aware of; but there were a few men, sucli
as Willison, Currie, and Macintosh, who they knew
had a hankering after the seceders, and whom they
wished to secure upon their own side, and they
served them by an act more absurd than any of those
that h.ad occasioned the secession; an act requiring
a synod to reveiac a sentence, that either was or

ought to have been pronounced in the name of the
Lord Jesus Christ, without inquiring into its validity,
or presuming to give an opinion respecting it? The
synod, however, hasted to perform the duty assigned
them, and on the 2d of July, 1734, met at Perth,
when, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, they took
off the sentences from all the four brethren, restor-
ing them to their standing in the church, and ordered
their names to be placed upon the presbytery and
synod rolls, as if there had never been act, sentence,
or impediment in their way. The seceders had too
much penetration to be gulled by this invention, and
too much honesty to accept of the seeming boon;
but it answered the main purpose that it was intendecl
to serve: it afforded a handle for reviving a popular
clamour against them, and proved an excellent ex-
cuse for their summer friends to desert them. The
reforming fit was past in the meeting of next assembly
in 1 736, which was as violent in its proceedings as
any that had preceded it. Mr. Erskine and his
friends, now de. pairing of any speedy reformations
in the judicatories, published their reasons for not
acceding to them, and proceeded to prepare the
judicial act and testimony, which, after many diets of
fasting and prayer, was enacted at their twenty-fourth
presbyterial meeting, in the month of December,
1736. Mr. Erskine continued all this time to
occupy his own parish church, and was regarded
with the same respectful attention as ever. In the
year 1738 the assembly began to persecute Mr.
Erskine and his friends, who were now considerably
increased. In the year 1739 he, along with his
brethren, was served wdth a libel to appear before
the General Assembly, where they appeared as a con-
stituted presbytery, and by their moderator gave in
a paper declining the authority of the court. The
assembly, however, delayed giving sentence against
them till next year, 1740, when they were all deposed,
and ordered to be ejected from their churches. On
the Sabbath after this, Mr. Erskine retired with his
congregation to a convenient place in the fields,
where he continued to preach till a spacious meet-
ing-house was prepared by his people, all of whom
adhered to him, and in this house he continued to
officiate when ability sei"ved till the day of his death.
In the year 1742 ilr. ICrskine was employed, along
with Mr. Alexander Moncricf, to enlarge the secession
testimony, w^hich they did by that most excellent
and well-known little work, entitled ^lii Act aneiit
ilie Doctrine of Grace. About this period he had
also some correspondence with Mr. George \\'hite-
field, wdiich terminated in a way that could not Ije
pleasing to either party. Along with the doctrines
of grace, the Associate jiresbytery took into considera-
tion the propriety of renewing the national covenants.
An overture to this ])urpose was apjiroved of l)y the
jiresbytery on the 21st of October, 1742, the same
day that they passed the Act aneiit the Doctrine of
Grace. That a work of so much solemnity might be
gone about with all due deliberation, the jiresbytery
agreed that there should be room left ior all the
members to state freely whatever difficuUies tliey
might have upon the subject, and it accordingly lay
over till the 23d of JJecemlier, 1743, %\hen the over-
ture, with sundry amendments and enlargements,
was unanimously a)iproved of and enacted. A solenm
acknowledgment of sins being ]5repared fen' the occa-
sion, and a stjlemn engagement to duties, on the
2Slh of December Mr. Erskine preached a sermon
at Stirling, the day being observed as a day of solemn
fa-ting and humiliation, after which the confession
of sins was read, and the engagement to duties sworn
to and subscribed by fifteen ministers, of whom
l^benezer Erskuie \\'as the first that subscribed.

EBENEZER ERSKINE.

545

Shortly after, the same thing was done at F'alkirk,
where five ministers more subscribed. In this work
no man of the body was more hearty than Mr.
Ebenezer Erskine; and it went through a number
of congregations, till a stop was put to it by the ques-
tion that arose res])ecting the religious clause of some
burgess oaths, which it was alleged were utterly in-
consistent with the oath of the covenants, and with
the secession testimony. The Associate presbyter)-
had already determined the oaths of abjuration and
allegiance to be sinful, as embracing the complex
constitution, and was of course incompatible with
the testimony which they had emitted against that
complex constitution. At the last meeting of the
Associate presbytery, Mr. Alexander Moncrief gave
in a paper stating his scruples with regard to the
religious clause of some burgess oaths, which he ap-
prehended would be found, when examined, to be
equally sinful with those they had already con-
demned. The dissolution of the Associate presbytery
being determined on, the cjuestion was reserved for
a first essay of the Associate synod. Accordingly,
when the synod met in the month of March, 1745,
it was among the first motions that came before them ;
and after much discussion the synod, in the month
of April, 1746, found "that the swearing the re-
ligious clause in some burgess oaths — 'Here I protest
before God and your lordships, that I profess and
allow within my heart, the true religion presently
professed within this realm, and authorized by the
laws thereof; I shall abide thereat and defend the
same to my life's end, renouncing the Romish re-
ligion, called papistry' — by any under their inspec-
tion, as the said clause comes necessarily in this
period to be used and applied in a way that does not
agree unto tlie present state and circumstances of the
testimony for religion and reformation which this
synod, with those under their inspection, are main-
taining; particularly, that it does not agree unto nor
consist with an entering into the bond for renewing
our solemn covenants, and that, therefore, those
seceding cannot farther, with safety of conscience
and without sin, swear any burgess oath with the
said religious clause, while matters, with reference
to the profession and settlement of religion, continue
in sucli circumstances as at present," (kc. Wlien
this subject was first stated, it did not appear to be
attended either with difficulty or danger. Questions
of much more intricacy had been discussed at great
length, and harmoniously disposed of by the .Associate
presbytery; and the above decision, we are persuaded
every unbiassed reader, when he reflects that it was
intended to bind t)nly those who had already acceded
to the sederunt act and testimony, will think that it
should have given entire satisfaction. This, however,
was far from being the case. Some personal picpie
seems to have suhsisteti between two of the members
of court, Mr. Moncrief and Mr. Fi>her; in conse-
quence of which the latter regarded tlie conduct
of the former with some suspicion. Being son-in-
law to .Mr. Hl>ene/er Krskine, the latter, too, was
supported by both the Krskines, who were the idols
of the body, and on this t)Cc.a>ion gave mo.->t humil-
iating evidence of the power of prejudice to darken
the cleare-.t intellects, an<l to jtervcrt the jniresi and
the wannest hearts. The i[Ut.-stion was >iinple —
What was meant by those who framed and now im-
posed the oath? \Vas it tlie true religion, abstractlv
considered, that was to be acknowledged by the
swearer? or was it not rather the true religion em-
bodied in a particular form, and guaranteed by par-
ticular laws, to injure the integrity of which the
oath was princii'ally intended? Mither this was tlie
case, or the oath was superlluous and unnieanir.g.
Vol. I.

and of course could not lie lawfully sworn by any
one, whatever might be his opinions, as in that case
it would have been a taking of the name of (jod in
vain. True, however, it is, th.at volumes were written,
of which no small portion came from the pens of
the venerable Ralph Erskine and the worthy Mr.
James Fisher, to prove that nothing wxs sworn to
in the oath but the true religion, abstracting from
all the accompanying and qualifying clauses thereof.
\ protest against the al)ove decision of synfxl was
taken by Messrs. Ralph Erskine, James Kisher,
William Ilutton, Henry Erskine, and John .M'Cara,
in which they were joined by two elders, and by the
time of next meeting of synod, the whole IxKly was
in a flame, every individual having committed him-
self on the one side (jr the other.

When the synod met on the 7th of .April, 1747,
the subject was resumed with a warmth that indicated
not ardour, but absolute frenzy. The pnjtesters
against the former decision of the question, instead
of bringing up their reasons of protest, as order and
decency required, began by renewing the original
question, ^\'hether the act of synod was to be made
a term of communion before it should be sent round
in the form of an overture, to sessions and pre>by-
teries for their judgment ihereanent; the members of
synod in the meantime praying and conferring with
one another for light upon the subject. To this it
was opposed as a previous question — Call for the
reasons of protest, and the answers thereunto, that
they may be read and considered. The que>tion
being put, which of the two questions sh<;uld be
voted, it carried for the first; from this Mr. W.
Campbell entered his dissent, to which Mr. Thomas
Moirand Mr. Moncrief adhered. Next morning the
protesters resumed the question with renewed ardour,
or rather rage; Mr. Moir again entered his prote-t,
followed by eleven ministers and ten elders. The
protesters still insisting for their question, the whole
day was wasted in shameful discussions; Mr. (jibb
protesting against the proj^osal of the protesters in a
new and somewhat startling form. Having adjourned
one hour, the synod met again at eight, or between
eight and nine o'clock p.m., when the war of words
was renewed for several hours, the protesters still
insisting upon having the vote put; a protect again>i
it was again entered by Mr. .Moncrief. wliich was
ailhered to by twelve minister-, aii'l ten ehlers. The
moderator of course refused to put the v<ite, as did
the clerk /;v tempore; one of the party then called
the roll, another marked the votes, the sum total of
which was nine ministers and eleven elders, and < i
these, six ministers and one elder were prototers,
and of course parties in the cau<e that had not the
Mnallest right tu vote (m the subject. In this wav
twenty voters, and of these twenty only thirteen Ie,:^al
voters, carried a deed against twenty-three, >t.ui<!ir^-
before them in solemn o[.)po.-ition umier co\ei- oi a.l
legal forms that, in the circumstance-- in wliiJi ihry
^tood, it was possible for them t^i enij ioy. In th>
most extraordinary cri-is Mr. Moir. the nio.iciator
of the former meeting of .-ynod, con-i'krir.g the ]'re-
sent moderator as having eea-ed t.i aa. el.nnud that
place for hiniscif. and the power- ot t!;e .\-M>eiate
synod for tho>e who had >too.i i;nn luvkr t!ie;r
imnest again>t >u^h di->r.]erly ] lo^clure. wh.mi he
re.lue^ted' to meet in Mr. (iiio'- l;-i>e to. morn. w,
to tran.-act tlie buMne-^ .f :he A^.'viate -yi.o.l. 'I ixy
did .-o, and thiw ..;:e p.irt . .f the .\ — >c;.i-.e >yii,)l wa,
recon>tituted. The otlur j.irt met next d.-.y in the
u-ual pl.'Ce, havir.g tlie ni-^ierat- .r. th..'.;L:ii lie h.ad
deserted tiieni the niglit before. .-.! ng with then>.
and the clerk .'?\^ irnip:;-:: on whiJi they rerumed
t!icni:.elve- a^ beii^g :;:e true .\--v.;.Ue >yi:t."J. What-

35

546

HENRY ERSKIXE.

ever superiority in point of order was between them,
entirely belonged to the party that met in Mr. Gibb's
house, and have since been known by the name of
• Vntiburghers; and they showed some sense of shame
by making open confession of the sad display which
they had made of their own corruptions, in managing
what they then and still considered to be the cause
of God. The other party were certainly even in this
respect the more culpable; but having the unfettered
possession of their beloved oath, they seem to have
been more at ease with themselves than their breth-
ren. A more deplorable circumstance certainly
never took place in any regularly constituted church,
nor one that more completely demonstrated how
little the wisest and the best of men are to be de-
pended on when they are left to the influence of their
own spirits. The very individual persons who, in a
long and painful dispute with the Established judi-
cature, upon points of the highest importance, had
conducted themselves with singular judgment, pru-
dence, and propriety, here, upon a very trifling ques-
tion, and of easy solution, behaved in a manner not
only disgraceful to the Christian but to the human
character; violating in their case, to carry a point of
very little moment, the first principles of order, with-
out preserving which it is impossible to carry on
rationally the affairs of ordinary society. In all this
unhappy business we blush to be obliged to acknow-
ledge that Ebenezer Erskine had an active hand; he
stood in front of the list of the Burgher presbytery,
and, if we may believe the report of some who boast
of being his admirers, abated considerably after this
of his zeal for the principles of the reformation. lie
certainly lost much of his respectability by the share
he had in augmenting the storm which his age and
his experience should have been employed to mode-
rate, and it must have been but an unpleasant sub-
ject for his after-meditations. He was after this
engaged in notliing of public importance. He lived
indeed only seven years after this, and the better
half of them under consideral:)le infirmity. He died
on the twenty-second of June, 1756, aged seventy-
four years, saving one month. He was buried, by
his own desire, in the middle of his meeting-house,
where a large stone with a Latin inscription, record-
ing the date of liis death, his age, and the periods of
his ministry at Portnioak and Stirling, still marks
out the spot. Mr. Erskine was twice married; first,
as we have already mentioned, to that excellent
woman Alison Terpie, who died sometime in the
year 1720. He married three years afterwards a
daughter of the Rev. James Webster, Edinburgh,
who also died befjre him. He left behind him
several cliildren, one of whom, a daughter, died so
late as the year 1814. Of his character we have
scarcely left ourselves room to speak. As a writer
of sermons he is sound, savoury, and practical,
abounding in clear views of the gospel, with its uses
and influence in promoting holiness of life. As a
]:>reacher he was distinguished among the greatest
m'jn of his day. In learning and in com]iass f)f
mind he was inferior to the autlior of The 'J'rusl,
and, for keen and penetrating genius, to tlie authf)r
of The Defence of the Kejormation Principles of the
Church of Scotland ; but for straightforward gO(j(i
sense, incorruptible integrity, and dauntless intro-
■jiiditv, he was equal to any man of the age in which
h • lived.

ERSKINE, Henry, third Lord Cardross, one of
the most distinguished jiatriots of the seventeenth
century, was the eldest son of the second Lord Car-
dross, who, in his turn, was grandson to John, sevcntli
Earl of Marr, the eminent and faithful counsellor of

King James VI. By his mother, Anne Hope, the
subject of our memoir was grandson to Sir Thomas
Hope, king's advocate, the chief legal counsellor of
the Covenanters in the early years of the civil war.
It may also be mentioned that Colonel Erskine of
Carnock, father to the author of The Institutes, was
a half-brother of Lord Cardross.

The father of this eminent patriot was one of the
seven Scottish lords who protested against the de-
livery of Charles I. to the English army, and he
educated his son in the same principles of honour and
fidelity to the laws, and to personal engagements,
which inspired himself. Lord Heniy was born
about 1650, and succeeded his father in 1671. Hav-
ing also succeeded to all the liberal principles of the
family, he at once joined himself, on entering life, to
the opposers of the Lauderdale administration. This
soon exposed him to persecution, and in 1674 he was
fined in ^^5000 because his lady had heard worship
performed in his own house by a non-conforming
chaplain. Hi.: lordship paid /"looo of this fine, and
after attending the court for six months in the vain
endeavour to procure a remission for the rest, was im-
prisoned in Edinburgh Castle, where he continued for
four years. While he was thus suffering captivity,
a party of soldiers visited his house, and, after treat-
ing his lady with the greatest incivility, and breaking
up the closet in which he kept his papers, established
a garrison, which continued there for eight years.
Two years afterwards, while he was still in prison,
his lady having been delivered of a child, whom she
caused to be baptized (without his knowledge) by a
non-conforming clergyman, another fine of ;i;^3000
was imposed upon him, being purposely thus severe,
in order that he might be retained in prison through
inability to pay it. So meanly revengeful was the
feeling of the government, that, when the royal forces
were on their march to Bothwell Bridge, in June,
1679, they were taken two miles out of their proper
line of march, in order that they might f|uarter upon
his lordship's estates of Kirkhill and Uphall, and do
them all the mischief possible.

In July, 1679, Lord Cardross was released on
giving bond for the amount of his fine. He went to
court, to give an account of his sufferings, aiid solicit
some redress. But the infamous jn'ivy-council of
Scotland counteracted all his efforts. l'"inding no
hope of further comfort in his own country, and that
there was little j^robability of the British nation con-
triving to throw off the odious bondage in M'hich it
was kept, he resolved to seek refuge and freedom in
a distant land. He perhajis acted U]ion tlie philo-
sophical maxim thus laid down by I'lato: — "If any
one shall observe a great cc)m])any run out into the
rain every day, and delight to be wet in it, and if he
judges that it will be to little purpose for him to go
and ]5ersuade them to come into their houses and
avoid the rain, so that all that can be ex])cctcd from
his going to speak to them, will be that he will be
wet with them; would it not be nnicii better for
him to keej) within doors, and preserve himself,
since he cannot correct the folly of others?" Lord
Cardross engaged with those who settled on Charles-
town Neck, in .South Carolina, where he established
a plantation. From thence a few years afterwards
he and his peo]ik' were driven by the S])aniards,
many <jf the c(/lonists being killed and ahnost all
their effects destroyed. Dispirited but not broken
l)y his misfortunes, the .Scottish patriot returned t(j
I'^urf)pe, and took up his abode at the Hague, where
many oihers of his persecuted countrymen now found
sheher. ICntering into the service of Holland, he
accompanied the Prince of Orange on his expcditi(;n
to England, hi> son David commanding a company

/•

ni:.\RY krskinl:.

547

in the same army. He was of great sen'ice in Scot-
land, under General Mackay, in promoting the Re-
volution settlement, which at length put an end to
the miseries endureti for many years by himself, and
by his country at large. He was now restored to
his estates, sworn a privy-councillor, and honciured
with much of the friendship and confidence of King
\Villiam. His health, however, previously niucli
impaired by his imprisonment and the fatigue of his
American plantation, sunk under his latter exertions,
and he died at Edinburgh, May 2ist, 1693, in the
f irty-fourth year of his age. The venerable Earl of
IJuchan, of whom we have given a memoir, and his
two brothers, Henry and Thomas Erskine, were the
great grandchildren of Lord Cardross.

ERSKINE, Honourable Hknry, an eminent
pleader, was the third son of Henry David, tenth
liarl of liuchan, by Agnes, daughter of Sir James
Stewart of Coltness and Goodtrees, ]5aronet. He was
born at Edinburgh on the first of November, 1 746
0. S. His fame has been eclipsed by that of his younger
and more illustrious brother, Thomas Lord Erskine,
who rose to the dignity of lord high-chancellor of
Great Britain; but his name, nevertheless, holds a
distinguished place in the annals of the Scottish bar,
to which he was called in the year 176S, and of
which he was long the brightest ornament.

Mr. Erskine's education was begun under the
paternal roof. He was afterwards sent, with his
two brothers, to the college of St. Andrews; whence
they were sul)sequently transferred to the university
of Edinburgh, and latterly to that of Glasgow. As
his patrimony was small, Henry was taught to look
forward to a profession as the only avenue to fortune;
and he early decided on that of the bar, while his
younger brother resolved to push his fortune in the
army.

It was in the Fonim, a promiscuous debating so-
ciety established in Edinburgh, that young Erskine's
oratorical powers first began to attract notice.
While prosecuting his legal studies, and qualifying
himself for the arduous duties of his profession, he
found leisure to attend the Forum, and take an active
jiart in its de!)ates. It was in this school that he
laid the foundation of those powers of extemporary
speaking, by which in after-years he wielded at will
the feelings of his auditors, and raised forensic prac-
tice, if not to the models of ancient oratory, at lea.^t
to something immeasurably above the dull, cold,
circumlocutory forms of speech in which the lords of
council and session were then w<jnt to be addressed.
Another arena upon which Henry luskine trained
himself to exhibitions of higher oratory llian had yet
been dreamed of by his profes>ional bretliren. wa-; the
General .\ssembly of the Kirk of Scotland, of which
it was then said with greater tnith than it would bj
now, that it afforded tlie l:)e-t theatre for deliberative
eloquence to be found in Scotland. Here his line-
age, talents, and orthodox 'entiments commanded
ropect; and accordingly he wr.s always li-tL-ned t'l
by that venerable l)o<iy with tlie gr^'atot dcferuiicc
an 1 attention.

Mr. ]->>kine wa-; equalled, pi-rha|i-; si;rpa--ed.. in
dejith of legal knowledge, by one or two of hi.-> fel-
lows at the bar; but none could boa-t of equal variety
and extent of acconii)lishnient>; r.one suri'.A>~ed him
in knowledge of human character; and none equalie 1
him in quiokne-s of pcvc.'ption. ]i!.ivruIneNS of fancy,
and professional tact. He wa> t'.ie Horace of the pro-
fession; and his ov;v:7 <•, w;;;;.v.'j .v.-.v were long re-
membered with plea-ure by hi^ contenq>oraries.
^'et while, by the uiianim m, >-.itTr.ige> of tlie jiuMic.
Mr. Er-kine found hinijclf [ilacei witlioi;: a riv.il at

the head of a commanding profession, his general
de])ortment was characterized by the most unaffected
modesty and easy affability, and his talents \\ ere not
les-. at the service of indigent but deser\ing clients,
than they were to be commanded by those whose
wealth or influence enabled them most lil)erally to
remunerate his exertions. Indeed, his talents were
never more con^picu(JUs than when they were cm-
ployed in |)rotecting innocence from oppression,
in vindicating the cause of the oppressed, or ex-
posing the injustice of the op|)ressor. Henrv-
Erskine was in an eminent sense the advocate of the
people throughout the long course of his professional
career; he was never known to tuni his back \i\xm
the jioor man; or to pro[)ortion his .scr\-ices to the
ability of his employers to reward them. It is said
that a poor man, in a ren^jte district of Scotland,
thus answered an accpiaintance who wi^hed to dis-
suade him from engaging in a lawsuit with a wealthy
neighbour, by representing the hopelessness of his
being able to meet the expense of litigation: "Ve
dinna ken what ye're .saying, mai>ter; there's no a
puir man in a' Scotland need to want a friend or fear
an enemy sae lang as Harrj- Erskine lives 1"

When Mr. Erskine deemed his independence
secured, he mnrried Christina, the only daughter of
George Fullarton, Esrj., collector of the customs at
Leith. This lady brought him a hands<jme f(.irtune;
but with the prospect of a pretty numerous family
before him, Mr. Erskine continued assiduou>ly to
practise his profession. By this lady he had three
daughters: Elizabeth F" ranees, who died young;
Elizabeth Crompton, afterwards Mrs. Callendar; ai.ii
Henrietta, afterwards Mrs. .Smith; together with two
sons, Henr)' and George, the former of whom mar-
ried the eldest daughter of Sir Charles Shijiley in
iSl I, and became Earl of Buchan.

Mr. Erskine, like his elder brother, had early
embraced the principles of \\'higgism; and this di>-
tinguished family, during theprogressof the American
war, openly expressed their decided di>apprul)ation
of the course which ministers were pursuing in that
unfortunate contest. Opposition was a more seriou-.
thing in these times than it has since becinne; to
oppose ministers was considered tantamount to di--
affection to the constitution, and often exposed a
man to serious loss and inconvenience. Mr. Erskine'-
abilities, indeed, were beyond the reach of detraction;
and his practice at the bar was founded v.; on a re-
putation too extensive to be ea-i'.y shaken; but it
cannot l)e doubted that in e-i'(ji:sir.g the bber.-.l -lOe
of politics, he was sacrificing to U'.) small amount lii>
]>rospeets of prefennent. At the conclusion, there-
fore, of the American war, and tl.e acees-.ion i.'f the
Rockingham admini-traiion. Mr. Erskine's ir.erl"-
pointed him out as the fitte-t nuird er of tr.cv.l'y 1. i
the imjiortant office of !ord-ao,\> eate i^l ^>.' t..-:ni:.
to %\hich he was immedir.tely nji 'iiiKeil. I'r.t h>
ojiportunities to support tlie iie\\ a^iiniiii-ir,-'.;.' :; -a ere
lew, on account of i!> e]'heir.i. r,-.! i. \>".e:'.Le: .'.::•: • r.

I ; <.'

I -v. aci.
the h. :

i;;-

its retirement he w.i^ ;in!re''.:.'.;i

i.ilficial dignity, and even s-'n-'.-}

jirived, by the vote of f.is ]■■,,,■•],]

his obnoxious pMlitie.1l -iT,':;:;e:.' -.

office of dean of f.ic.-.ity. ( ':;

liberal party to or'e ■. ::; IN:". H

more became ]■ 'r'.-.i;-. ^ .■.i . . '.. : \'- .:- 1-. tv.rr.i.

fir the Dumfries .;;s;::,; ■ : }\:-^.-. in the

Mai-r-LCereiul D,:"rM:.: ':■. 'i':.;-. h-wevt r

f.rmer'Whi^ a^'n.ii;'-- ; 'r i -. v.,-;, ; . .; ^■^^:vu

tiiuie lorn: in ;'-^^lr. .:" i v.::li ::■■ ■'.--•.■..

Erskine .ig.^in ! -1

.\ni;.l the~e ^ii-:: ■

not les- .;;-:i-.'u:-i

.Mr.

•s Mr. 1;

54S

IIEXRY ERSKINE JOHN ERSKIXE.

principles, than by invariable gentleness and urbanity
in his manner of asserting them. "Such, indeed,"
says one of his most distinguished contemporaries,
"was the habitual sweetness of his temper, and the
fascination of his manners, that, though placed by
his rank and talent in the obnoxious station of a
leader of opposition, at a period when political
animosities were carried to a lamentable height, no
individual, it is believed, was ever known to speak or
to think of him with anything approaching to personal
hostility. In return it may be said, with equal cor-
rectness, that thougii baffled in some of his pur-
suits, and not quite handsomely disappointed of
some of the honours to which his claim was uni-
versally admitted, he never allowed the slightest
shade of discontent to rest upon his mind, nor tiie
least drop of bitterness to mingle with his blood.
He was so utterly incapable of rancour, that even
the rancorous felt that he ought not to be made its
victim."

Mr. Erskine's constitution began to give way under
the pressure of disease about the year 1812; and he
thereupon retired from professional life, to his
beautiful villa of Ammondell in West Lothian,
which originally formed part of the patrimonial
estate, but was transferred to the subject of our
memoir by his elder brother about the year 1795, to
serve as a retreat from the fatigues of business dur-
ing the vacation. " Passing thus," says the eloquent
writer already quoted, "at once from all the bustle
and excitement of a public life, to a scene of com-
parative inactivity, he never felt a moment of ennui
or dejection; but retained unimpaired, till within a
day or two of his death, not only all his intellectual
activity and social affections, but, when not under
the immediate affliction of a painful and incurable
disease, all that gaiety of spirit, and all that playful
and kindly sympathy with innocent enjoyment,
which made him the idol of the young, and the
object of cordial attachment and unen%-ying admira-
tion to his friends of all ages." The five remaining
years of his life were consumed by a complication of
maladies ; and he expired at his country-seat on the
8th of October, 1817, when he had nearly completed
the 71st year of his age.

In person Mr. Henry Erskine was above the middle
size; he was taller than either of his brothers, and
well-proportioned, but slender; and in the bloom of
manhood was considered handsome in no common
degree. In early life his carriage was remarkably
graceful; and so persuasive was his address, that he
never failed to attract attention, and by the spell of
irresistible fascination to fix and enchain it. His
features were all character — his voice was powerful
and melodious — his enunciation uncommonly accu-
rate and distinct — and there was a peculiar grace in
his utterance, wliich enhanced the value of all he
said, and engraved the remembrance of his eloquence
indelibly on the minds of his hearers. His iiabits
were domestic in an eminent degree. It has been said
of men of wit in general, tiiat they delight and fasci-
nate everywhere but at home; this observation, how-
ever, though too generally true, could not be applied
to him; for no man delighted more in the enjoyment
of home, or felt more truly happy in the bosom of
his family, while at the same time none were more
cap.ilile of entering into the gaieties of polished
society, or more courted for the brilliancy of his wit,
and the ease and polish of his manners.

"The character of Mr. Erskine's eloquence," says
another friend, well ca[ial)le of estimating his merits,
"bore a strong resemblance to that of his noble
brother; but l)eing much less diffuse, it was better
calculated to leave a forcible impression. He had

the art of concentrating his ideas, and presenting
them at once in so luminous and irresistible a form,
as to render his hearers master of the view he took
of his subject, which, however dry or complex in its
nature, never failed to become entertaining and in-
structive in his hands; for to professional knowledge
of the highest order he united a most extensive
acquaintance with history, literature, and science,
and a thorough conversancy with human life." His
oratory was of that comprehensive species which can
address itself to every audience, and to every cir-
cumstance, and touch every chord of human emotion.
Fervid and affecting in the extreme degree, when
the occasion called for it, it was no less powerful in
opposite circumstances, by the potency of wit and
the irresistible force of comic humour which he
could make use of at all times, and in perfect sub-
ordination to his judgment. "In his profession,
indeed, all his art was argument, and each of his
delightful illustrations a material step in his reason-
ing. To himself it seemed always as if they were
recommended rather for their use than their beauty ;
and unquestionably they often enabled him to slate
a fine argimient, or a nice distinction, not only in
a more striking and pleasing way, but actually with
greater precision than could have been obtained by
the severer forms of reasoning. In this extraordinary
talent, as well as in the charming facility of his
eloquence, and the constant radiance of good humour
and gaiety which encircled his manners in debate,
he had no rival in his own times, and as yet has no
successor. That part of eloquence is now mute,
that honour in abeyance."

There exists a bust of Mr. Erskine from the chisel
of Turnerelli, and also a portrait of him by Sir
Henry Raeburn.

ERSKINE, John, of Dun, knight, and the second
in importance of the lay supporters of the Scottish
Reformation, is said to have been born about the
year 1508, at the family seat of Dun, in the county
of Forfar. His family was descended from that
which afterwards acceded to the title of Marr, while
his mother was a daughter of William, first Ford
Ruthven. In early life he travelled for some time
upon the Continent, from which he returned in 1534,
bringing with him a Frenchman ca]iable of teaching
the Greek language, whom he established in the
town of Montrose. Hitherto tliis noble tongue was
almost unknown in Scotland, and an acquaintance
with it was deemed to imply a tendency to heresy.
Erskine of Dun w.as the first man who made a de-
cided attemjH to overcome this prejudice, thereby
foretelling his own fitness to burst through moral
clouds of still greater density, and far more jier-
nicious. Previous to 1540 he was one of the limited
number of persons who, notwithstanding the perse-
cuting disposition of James V., had embraced the
Protestant religion : in doing so, far from being led
by mercenary motives, as many afterwards were, he
and his friends were inspired solely witli a love of
what they considered the truth, and, for that sake,
encountered very great dangers. His house of Dun,
near Montrose, was constantly open to the itinerant
jireachers of the reformed doctrines, who, thougli
lialjle U) persecution in (jther places, seem to have
always enjoyed, through the resjiectability of his per-
sonal character, as well as his wealth and baronial
influence, immunity while they resided with him.
Though he must have been unfavourable to the war
with I-^ngland, commenced by the Catholic jiarty in
1547, he ap])ears to have been too much of a patriot
to endure tlie ilevastations committed u])on his native
C(juntry by tlie enemy. His biographers dwell with

JOHN ERSKINE.

549

pride on a very successful attack which he made,
with a small party, upon a band of Knj^lish who
had landed near Nlontrose for the purpose of laying
waste the country. On this occasion, out of eighty
invaders hardly a third of them got back to their
ships. When John Knox returned to .Scotland, in
1555, Krskine of Dun was among those who repaired
to hear his private ministrations in the house of a
citizen of Edinburgli. The reformer soon after f(jl-
lowed him to Dun, where he preached daily for a
month to tlie people of the neighbourhood ; next
year he renewed his visit, and succeeded in convert-
ing nearly all the gentry of the district.

In 1557 Erskine was one of the few influential
persons who signed the first covenant, and estal)-
iished what was called the Congregation. In the
succeeding year he was one of the conimissioners
sent by the (jueen-regent, Mary of Lorraine, to wit-
ness the marriage of her daughter Mary to the
dauphin. While he was absent the cause of the
Reformation received a great impulse from the exe-
cution of Walter Mill, an aged priest, who was
dragged to the stake to expiate his attachment to the
new doctrines. The people were inflamed with re-
sentment at this outrage, and now longed for more
decisive measures being taken on the subject of re-
ligion. To counteract this enthusiasm, the queen-
regent summoned the preaciiers to appear at .Stirling,
and undergo trial for their heretical doctrines. Tiie
Protestant gentry, having resolved to protect them,
met at I'erth, and Erskine of Dun was employed to
go to Stirling to seek an accommodation with the
(jueen. It is well known that he succeeded in ob-
taining a respite for the ministers, though not of long
continuance. In the sterner measures which were
afterwards taken to protect the reformed religion, he
bjre an eipially distinguished part.

On the establishment of Protestantism in 1560,
Erskine of Dun resolved to assume the clerical office,
f )r which he was fitted in a peculiar manner by his
mild and benignant character. He was accordingly
ajipointed by the estates of the kingdom to be one
(jf tiie five superintendents of the ciiurch — an office
somewhat akin to tliat of bishop, though subject to
the control of the jirincijial church court. Erskine
became superintemlent of the counties of Angus and
IMearns, which he had already been the principal
means of converting to the new faith. He ^\as in-
stalled in 1562 by John Knox, and it would ajipear
that he not only superintended the proceedings of the
inferior clergy, but performed himself the u^u.il duties
of a clergyman. In everything that he did his amiable
character was discernible: far from being inspired with
thise fierce and uncompromising sentiments which
were perhaps necessary in some of his brethren for
the hard work they had to perform, he was always
the counsellor of moderate and conciliatory measures,
a.id thu-^ even the ojiponents of the reformed doc-
trines could not helji acc<inling him their esteem.
\Vhea Knox had hi> celebrated interview with (Jueen
Mary r,->pecting her intended marriage with Darnlev,
a!vl brought tear-- into her eyes liy the freedom of
h:s sjK'ecli, Er>kine, who was present, endeavoured
with his cluiracteri-tie gentleiie>s t^) soothe tho>e
feelings whicli the >everity of his friend had irritated.
Knox stool >ilont and unrelentmg while the superin-
tendent was engaged in this courteous otTice. Ers-
kine appear> to have tluis made a very favourable im-
pression Ujion the mind ol theyuuthtu! (jueen. Wlien
^he deemed it nece^.-ary to s!io\v ^.ime respect to the
Protestant doctrines, in order to facilitate her mar-
riage, she sent for tlie superlnten^lents of Fife, Olas-
gow, and Lolliian, to wltom >he >aid that s!ie wa>
not yet per>uailed >.<{ the truth of tiieir religion, but

she was willing to hear conference upon the subject,
and would gladly listen to some of their sermons.
Al>oveall others, she said she would gladly hear the su-
perintendent of Angus, "for he was a mild and sweet-
natured man, with true honesty and uprightness."

For many years after thi«, perirxl the superintendent
discharged his various duties in an irreproachable
manner, being elected no fewer than five times to l)e
moderator of the (jeneral Assembly. Some encroach-
ments made on the lil>erties of the church in 1571
drew from him two letters addressed to his chief, the
Regent .Marr, which, according to Dr. .M'Crie, "are
written in a clear, si)irited, and forcible style, contain
an accurate statement of the essential di.-,tinction
between civil and ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and
should be read by all who wish to know the early
sentiments of the Church of Scotland on this subject.'"
Some years afterwards he w.as engaged with some
other distinguished ornaments of the church in com-
piling what is calletl the Sccoinl /look of Discif-liue.
At length, after a long and useful life, he died, March
12, 1 59 1, leaving behind him a character which has
been thus depicted by Archbishop Spottiswoode :
"He was a man famous for the services performed
to his prince and countr)-, and worthy to be remem-
bered for his travails in the church, which, out of the
zeal he had for the truth, he undertook, ^/reaching
and advancing it by all means. A baron he was of
good rank, wise, learned, liberal, of singular courage;
who, for diverse resemblances, may well be said to
have been another Andjrose."

ERSKCSrE, John, of Carnock, aftenvards of
Cardrois, professor of Scots law in the univer>ity
of Edinburgh, was born in the year 1695. His
father was the Honourable Colonel John Er>kine of
Carnock, the third son of Lord Cardross, whose
family now holds the title of Earl of Buchan.

The subject of this memoir having been educated
for the profession of the law, became a member of
the Faculty of Advocates in the year 1 7 19. and
continued for some years to discharge the duties of
his professit)n without having been remarkably dis-
tinguished. In 1737, on the death of Alexander
Pain, professor of Scots law in the university of Edin-
burgh, Mr. Er.-kine became a candidate for that
chair. The patronage of this profe-sor^hip i^ nomi-
nally in the town-council of Edinburgh, but virtually
in the Facuhy of .\dvocate-; the election, under an
act <>f parliament ]>a»ed in the reign of Ceorge I.,
being made in the following manner: — The f.iculty,
Iw open suffrage of all the members, >end a !c:! (a>
it is called), or list, containing the nan.e> of two <'>t
their nundxT, to tlie town-council; one o! whom the
patrons must choose. The candidate favoured by
liis br'tther is of cour>e joine<i in the .V.-.' \\\\\\ another
member of the body, who, it is known, will r.-t
accept; and although, in ca~e of colli-i.in. t!ii- ar-
rangement might oeca.-ion embarra~-iner.t. p:ac;ii..-.!Iy
the elTect i-., to jdace the nMniir.at;"n to ;hi- cha:r
in the body be-t iiualified to judge "f tb.e '.u.-ililica-
tions of the candidate>. Iler.cc t!r.~ ; rcfenr.cnt ;s,
genera'lv .-peaking, a vorv t.r.r tc-t 'I t':ie e-tiin.'i::' ^n
in which the >u^cc>-fu: ' c,;n'l: i.Ue i> held by hi.
brethren; and their Jv ice b.r.^ >c!-'...m been more
creditalile to thcn^L'.vc- t!..-.:i it «.-;- in the ca>e of
Mr. Er-kine. The I>i ] :\- ;.-ci : ■ the t-wn-c-un-
cil cntainc'l the n.-.nie- . f br-kii-.e and < 'f Mr. Janus
Pa!:our. a Ivocatc. a gc;;-ic:;;.in w!... Iiad n- de-ire
for tlie ap]>. a:'.;:ivc:;i. a:.! .Mr. i;r-k:ne '.va> ot-.-e-

quently iianic i : r^V r. '\\\-z c:r.' i'.unic;r,- .^l ;!^.e

ot'fice consi-t "\ x -::\.\x\ 'S, f\oo p.cr ^-.w.www, ] ai.:\'ie
fro;n !l;e reve::uo .f the :'.'\\ n. ;:i -■: ::t;-.i to t;ie
fee. -'aid bv \\,: <:.W-...

550

JOHN ERSKIXE.

Mr. Erskine entered on the discharge of his acade-
mical duties with great ardour; and, from the abiUty
which he displayed as a lecturer, his class was much
more numerously attended than the Scots law class
had been at any former period. The te.\t-book which
he used for many years was Sir George Mackenzie's
Institutions of the La70 of Scotland; but, in the year
1754, Mr. Erskine published his own Principles of
the Law of Scotland, 8vo, which he intended chiefly
for the use of his students, and which, from that time
forward, he made his text-book. In tliis work Mr.
Erskine follows the order of Sir George Mackenzie's
Institutions, supplying those omissions into which
Sir George was betrayed by his desire for extreme
brevity, and making such farther additions as the
progress of the law since Sir George's time rendered
necessary. The book is still very highly esteemed
on account of the precision and accuracy, and, at the
same time, the conciseness, with which the principles
of the law are stated; nor is it an inconsiderable proof
of its merit, that, notwithstanding the very limited
circulation of Scottish law books, this work has al-
ready gone through numerous editions.

After having taught the Scots law class with great
reputationfortwenty-eightyears,Mr. Erskine, in 1765,
resigned his professorship, and retired from public
life. For three years after his resignation he oc-
cupied himself chiefly in preparing for publication
his larger work. The Institutes of the Law of Scotland.
It was not published, however, nor, indeed, com-
pleted, during his life. The work, in the state in
which Mr. Erskine left it, was put into the hands of
a legal friend, who, after taking the aid of some of
his associates at the bar, published it in 1773, in folio.
Although marked with some of the defects incident
to a posthumous publication, Erskine's Lnstitiites has
been for the last eighty years a book of the very
highest authority in the law of Scotland. It is re-
markable for tlie same accuracy and caution which
distinguish the Principles; and as additions have been
made in ever)' successive impression, suitable to the
progressive changes in the law, there is perhaps no
authority which is more frequently cited in the Scot-
tish courts, or which has been more resorted to as
the groundwork of the several treatises on subordi-
nate branches of the law, which have appeared within
tlie last fifty years. It has been said that the In-
stitutes partakes somewhat of the academical seclusion
in whicii it was written, and indicates occasionally
that the author was not familiar with the every-day
practice of the law. liut this is a defect which, if
it exists at all, would require keener eyes than ours
to <iiscover. On tlie contrary, without presuming to
dogmatize on s;icli a subject, we should be inclined
to say that we have met with no -Scottish law book
which ajipears to us to contain a more clear and
intelligible exposition, both of the theory and prac-
tice of the law, uv in which tlie authorities cited are
digested and analyzed with mcjrc care and success.

Mr. Erskine died at Cardross on the 1st of .March,
1768, in the seventy-third year of liis age. lie had
been twice married; first to Mis, Melville, fif the
noble family of Leven and Melville, by whom he left
the celebrated John Erskine, D.D. , one of the minis-
ters of Ivlinburgh; secondly, to .'\nne, second daughter
of Mr. Stirling of Kcir, by whom he had four sons
an<l two daughters. In the year 1746 Mr. Erslcinc
had purchased, at a judicial sale, the estate of Canl-
ross, which formerly had belonged to his grandfatiier,
Lord Cardr(jss, and he was possessed, besides, of
Very consideralile landed property, the greater part
of which devf>lved on James h>skine of (!ardross, the
eldest son of his second marriage, who died at Card-
ross on the 27th of March, 1S02.

ERSKINE, Rev. Dr. John, was born on the
2d of June, 172 1. He was the eldest son of John
Erskine of Carnock, the celebrated author of the
Institutes of the Law of Scotland, a younger branch
of the noble family of Buchan. His mother was
Margaret, daughter of the Honourable James Mel-
ville of liargarvie, of the family of Leven and Melville.
Young Erskine was taught the elementary branches
of his education by private tuition, and was placed,
towards the close of the year 1734, at the university
of Edinburgh, where he acquired a great fund of
classical knowledge, and made himself master of the
principles of philosophy and law. He was originally
intended for the profession of the law, in which his
father had been so much distinguished; but a natural
meditative and religious disposition inclined him
towards the church. This peculiar turn of mind
had displayed itself at a very early age, when, in-
stead of joining in the games and amusements suit-
able to the period of boyhood, he was retired and
solitary, and preferred the more exalted pleasures of
religious meditation; so that, while his companions
were pursuing their youthful sports, he would be
found shut up in his closet, employed in the study of
the Scriptures, and in exercises of devotion. Al-
though his taste thus led him towards the sacred
profession, yet, in compliance with the wishes of his
parents, he repressed his own inclinations, and
passed through the greater part of that course of
discipline prescribed in Scotland, in former times, as
preparatory to entering the faculty of advocates. But
at length, deeply impressed with the conviction that
it was his duty to devote himself to the service of
religion, he communicated to his father his intention
to study divinity. This resolution met with the
decided opposition of his family. They conceived
that the clerical office was at best but ill suited for
the display of those talents which they knew him to
possess, while the very moderate provision made for
the clergy of the Church of Scotland, has always been
a prudential obstacle with the parents and guardians
of young men of family or consideration in this
country. In spite, however, of every ojiposition,
Erskine persevered in the prosecution of his theo-
logical studies, and on their completion, in the year
1743, he was licensed to preach, by the j)resljytery
of Dunblane.

Prior to the commencement of Dr. Erskine's clas-
sical education, an ardent desire to cultivate litera-
ture and philosophy had manifested itself in Scotland,
and the professors of the college of Edinburgh, some
of them men of the most distinguished talents, had
contributed greatly to jiromote and cherish the sjiirit
which animated the nation. Among those early
benef;\ctors of .Scottish, literature, the most consj^i-
cuous were Sir John Pringle and Mr. Stevenson,
])rofessors of moral philosophy and of logic in the
university of Ivlinburgh. One mode wliich these
eminent men adopted in r)rder to stimulate the exer-
tions of their students, was to prescribe to])ics con-
necte<l with the subject of their respective prelections,
on which their jnipils were required to write short
dissertations; when these exercises were to be read,
numbers attended from the different classes, and we
are informed by Dr. Erskine, that Dr. William
Wishart, princijial of the college, "that great cn-
courager of the study of the classics, and of mf)ral
and ])olitical sciences, would often honour those
discourses with his presence, listen to them witli
attention, criticize them with candour; and when he
observed indications of good dispositions, and dis-
cerned the blossoms of genius, on these occasions,
and afterwards, as he had f)pi)ortunity, testified his
eateem and rcLrard." Professor Stevenson selected

JOHN ERSKINE.

5S»

a number of the best of the essays which were read
in his class, and bound them up in a volume, which
is now preserved in the college library. They are
in the handwriting of their authors; and in this
curious repository are to be found the productions of
Erskine aiul Robertson, together with those of many
young men who afterwards rose to eminence in their
several ])aths of life. We have Dr. Erskine's author-
ity for saying, that during the time he was at the
university,' "Edinburgh college then abounded with
young men of conspicuous talents, and indefatigable
application to study; many of whom afterwards rose
to higli eminence in the state, in the army, and in
the learned professions, especially in the law depart-
ment." Amongst these we may name as his in-
timate friends. Sir Thomas Miller of Glenlee, after-
wards lord-president of the Court of Session, and
those distinguished lawyers who were promoted to
the bench under the titles of Lords Elliock, Alva,
Kennet, Gardenston, and Braxfield.

In May, 1744, Dr. Erskine was ordained minister
of Kirkintilloch, in the presbytery of Glasgow, where
he remained until the year 1753, when he was pre-
sented to the parisli of Culross, in the presbytery of
Dunfermline. In June, 1758, he was translated to
the new Greyfriars, one of tiie churches of Edinburgh.
In Xovember, 1766, the university of Glasgow con-
ferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Di-
vinity, and in July, 1767, he was promoted to the
collegiate charge of old Greyfriars, where he had for
his colleague Dr. Robertson.

In the ditTercnt parishes in which Dr. Erskine had
ministered he had enjoyed tlie esteem and affection
of his parishioners. They were proud of him for his
piety, learning, and rank; they were delighted and
improved by his public and private instructions, and
they deeply lamented his removal when called from
them to undertake the more important charges to
which his merit successively promoted him. His
attention to the duties of the pastoral office was most
exemplary, and his lienevolent consolation and advice,
which were at the service of all who required them,
secured him the respect and affection of his flock,
who long remembered him with feelings of the
warmest gratitude. No man ever had a keener relish
for the pleasures of conversation; but in these he con-
sidered that he ought not to indulge, conceiving his
time and talents to be entirely the property of his
parishioners. At college he hatl made great attain-
ments in classical learning, and through life he re-
tained a fondness for the cultivation of literature and
philosophy, in which his great talents fitted him to
excel; he refrained, however, from their pursuit, re-
stricting himself in a great measure to the di^charge
of his important religious duties. But although litera-
ture was not allowed to engross a large share of his
attention, nor to interfere with his more sacred avoca-
tions, ^till, Ijy much exertion, and by economizing
Ijis time, he was enabled to maintain a j^erfect ac-
([uainlaiice witli the pr(\gress of the arts and sciences.

I'erhnps no country in tlie world ever made more
rapid priigrc-;s in literature tlian Scotland did during
the la>t h.ilf of the eighteenth century. And it is to
Dr. Er-kine chielly that the nation is indelited for that
improvement which took place in our theological
writings, and in the nianner in which the >er\ ices i.if
tlie pulpit were perfirmed. Prcviou-; to the time
when lie was licen>ed, sermons alioundci with (li>-
cursive and ditfii^e illu>trationN, and were det'omied
by colloquial familiaritie-; and vulgar provinci.ili>ms;
anil although the discourse^ of such men as Robert-
son, Home, and Logan, and otlicrs of their contem-
poraries, were consi)icuou.■^ for tlicir lienuty. >till it i>
to the ;nt!)li>lied scrr.ions of I)r. Lr.V^in'e tb.at the

perspicuity and goo<l taste subsequently displayed in
the addresses from the pulpit have been justly traced,
liven Ix-'fore the publication of his sermons, however,
Dr. Erskine had been favourably known to the public.
His first publication was a pamphlet against certain
of the doctrines contained in Dr. CamplKdI's work
on the Necessity 0/ A'cfe/adoji. In this production
Erskine had occasion to advocate some of the opinions
maintained in Dr. Warlmrton's Dnitte Legation of
Moses; and having presented that distinguisheti prelate
with a copy of the pamphlet, a corres])ondence ensued,
highly creditable to Erskine from the terms in which
Warburton adtlresses him, more particularly when it
is considered that at this time Erskine had not attained
his twenty-first year. '

1 The works written by Dr. Erskine arc: —

1. The Law of Nature Mifficiently iironiuluated to the
Heathen World; or, an Inquiry into the .Ability of the Heathens
to discover the Being of a God, anfl the Immortality of
Human .Souls, in some Miscellaneous Reflections occasioned
by Dr. Campbell's Professor of Divinity at St. Andrews,
'treatise on the Necessity of Revelation. Kdinburgh, 1741.
Republished in "Theological Dissertations." Loiid.n, 1763.

2. The Signs of the 'limes considered; or, the High Pro-
bability that the Present Appearances in New Kngland and
the West of .Scotland are a Prelude to the Glorious Things
promised to the Church in the Latter -Ages. Ldinburgti,
1742. Anonymous.

3. The People of God considered as All Righteous; or.lhrce
Sermons, preached at Glasgow, .April, 1745. Kdinburgh, 1745.
Republished in the first volume of Dr. Erskine's Discourses.

4. Meditations and Letters of a Pious Youth, lately deceased
James Hall, Esq., son of the late Sir John Hall, Hart, of

Dungl.ass ; to which are prefixed, Reflections on his Death and
Character, by a Friend ni the Coimtry. Edinburgh, 1746.

5. An Account of the Debate in the Synod of Gl.a.sgow and
-Ayr, Octfiber 6th, 1748; respecting the Employment of Mr.
Whitefield to preach in the pulpits of the Synod. Edinburgh,
1748. .Anonymous.

6. An Humble -Attempt to promote Frequent Communicat-
ing. Glasgow, 1749. Republished in '■ Theological Disserta-
tions."

7. The Qu.alifications necessary for Teachers of Christianity;
a Sermon before the Synod of GUasgow and -Ayr, 2d Octolx;r,
1750. Glasgow, 1750. Rci)ublished in Discourses, vol. II.

8. The Influence of Religion on National Happiness; a
.Sermon preached at the -Anniversary Meeting <if the Society
fur Prop.agating Christian Knowledge, in the High Church of
Edinburgh, January, 1756.

9. Ministers of the Gospel cautioned against giving <^>flfence;
a Sermon before the Synod of Lothian and '1 weeddale. No-
vember 3d, 1763; to which is added, .A Charge at the ( Irdir.a-
tion of the late Mr. Robertson. Minister of Ratho. Edinburgh,
1764. Reptiblishod in Discourses, vol. I.

10. Mr. Wesley's Principles Detected: or. a Defence of the
Pref;ice to the Edinburgh Edition of '" .Aspasio Vindicated,"
written by Dr. Erskine in answer to Mr. kershaw's -Appeal-
to which IS prefi.xed the Preface itself. Ei:inbiirt;h, 1765.

11. Theoliigical Dissertations, i On the Nature of tho
Sinai Covenant; 2 On the Character and Privileges of the
-Apostolic Churches; 3 On the Nature of Saving Faith; 4
See i; 5 See 6. London. i7'-5.

12. Shall I go to War with my .Anicriran Prethrcn? -A r>:s-
course on Judges .\.\. 25. ad.dressed to all ci'iicerned in deter-
mining that Important CJuc'stion. I.iniion, 17(9. -Anoriymous.
Reprinted in Edinburgh with a Preface and -Appendi.v, a:id
the author's name. 1776.

13. The Education of the P.or ChiMron R.;: nur.ei-.dod: a
Sermon before the .Managers rf ti'.'j ( ii-j.!;:in H >;';;. d. fJ-

14. Reflections (.n tiie Rise and I'r '.ltcs^. a::. IV : a; I'j
Consequences of tile present C ntei.ti^ ns «ith t;.c C ! :.;cs:
bv a Freeholder. Edinburch. 177''.

'15. The E.iuity and Wisdi'in v\ t!-o \\r. \-:}.^\r x\- ^ . rn
Measures that have unhappily occi-i !■.<-: f.v .A:Tivri-.<r. Rev..;
— tried by the Sacred 1 )r,iilcs. IM::/ ;:r.;::. 1-7 .

i6. Considerations ■ .11 the S; in: • ;' I' :■ -%. ■:■.: '. t' e i:-;--; icd
Pill fjr the Relief .,f the I'.i; >t. 1:1 >; :...:.d. l.:.;:;ur^h.
177S.

17. .A Narrative ■ f the I^elute i:i l).e Gc:.';r.il A~~Lin'' ly • :
the Church ■■( <■ tlan.i. M..v .- = :';. i--.._ '^ ' ■-■ :■<- '-by th :
ain^rehensi ns . 'f .m ir.tci'. '.e 1 K'-; •:.o 1 t)'' 1 ■■:',... M.i;v.t'js
n.:r,inst Pai>i-;.. W,;h a iL-i: .'.: r: : Dr. ( ;•:■ r^- Car-i : e!!.
Principal of the Mar>c:Mi C .Ic.;;. .\;tr :cen. L.;i:i:Lirgn.

iS. Praver f r :': -' in C:: .■ .^T \ M;.i
mended. ;r.'-n .1 Vi^-w f i:^ ■ I ::':;•-■ ;■■ • t ,
Character. Cvi.;:: :. a-' ! S': ■-. .1 >. r-;:
the E!ecti a 'f t: - M-i.;'-;: .wc- • ( L.:in-
17- J. an: f::':;s::-d at the r.: ,uest cl t:;

552

JOHN ERSKINE.

About the time when Dr. Erskine obtained his
license a remarkable concern for relijjion had been
exhibited in the British colonies of North America.
In order to obtain the earliest and most authentic
religious intelligence from those provinces, he com-
menced a correspondence with those chiefly concerned
in bringing about this change; nor was this corres-
pondence confined to America. He also opened a
communication with several divines of the most dis-
tinguished piety on the continent of Europe. This
intercourse he assiduously cultivated and carried on
(luring the whole of his life. One bad consequence
of it was the toil which it necessarily entailed on
him, not only in answering his numerous correspon-
dents, but in being called upon by the friends of
deceased divines to correct and superintend the pub-
lication of posthumous works. To his voluntary
labours in this way the religious world is indebted
for the greater part of the works of President Ed-
wards, and Dickson, and of Stoddart, and Eraser of
^Vlnesb. Such was Dr. Erskine's thirst for informa-
tion concerning the state of religion, morality, and
learning on the Continent, that in his old age he un-
dertook and acquired a knowledge of the Dutch and
German languages. The fruits of the rich field which
v/as thus thrown open to him appeared in The
Sketches and Hints of Church History and Theological
Contro~cers\', chiefly translated and abridged J'rofn
Modern Foreign Writers. Edinburgh, vol. i. 1790,
vol. ii. 1799. These volumes contained the most ex-
tensive and interesting body of information respecting
the state of religion on the Continent which had been
jiresented to the world.

One of the objects professed by the promoters of
those revolutionary principles which towards the close

19. Sketches .and Hints of Church History and Theological
Controversy, chiefly translated and abridged from Modern
l-'oreign Writers, vol. I. Edinburgh, 1790.

20. Letters, chiefly written for Comforting those Bereaved
of Children and Friends. Collected from Books and Manu-
.scripts. Edinburgh, 1790. 2d edition, with additions. Edin-
burgh, 1800.

21. The Fatal Consequences and the Genera! Sources of
Anarchy; a Discourse on Isaiah xxiv. 1, 5; the substance of
which was preached before the Magistrates of Edinburgh,
.September, 1792; published at their request, and that of the
Members of the Old Greyfriars Kirk Session. Edinburgh,

22. A Supplement to Two Volumes, published in 1754, of
Historical Collections, chiefly containing late Remarkable In-
stances of Faith working by Love; published from the Manu-
script of the late Dr. John Gillies, one of the Ministers of
("riasgow. With an Account of the Pious Compiler, and other
Additions. Edinburgh, 1796.

23. Sketches and Hints of Church History and Theological
t"ontr.jver-y, chiefly tr.anslated and abridged from jNIodern
Foreign Writers, vol. II. Edinburgh, 1797.

24. Discourses preached on several occasions, vol. I. 2d
edition, 1798. Volume II. posthumous, prepared for the
press and published by Sir H. Moncrieff Wellwood, 1804.

25. Dr. Erskine's Reply to a Printed Letter, directed to
1 im by A. C; in which the Gross Misrepresentations In said
Letter of his .Sketches of Church HIstorj-, in promoting the
(ie-^igns of the infamous sect of the Illuinin.ati, are considered.
Ldinljurgh. 1798.

Those Works which were edited by Dr. Erskine, or for
which he wrote prefaces, are —

1. Aspasio Vindicated, or the Scripture D'lctrlne fif Imputed
Righteousness Defended against the Animadversions, ^c. of
Mr. Wesley; with a Preface of ten pages by Dr. Erskine.
IvJinhurgh, 1765.

2. An Account of the Life of the late Rev. Mr. David
Lrainerd. fee, by Jonathan Edwards. Edlnhurgli, i-jC,z^,

3. An Essay on the Continu.ancc of Immediate Revelations
( f Facts and Future Events in the Christian Church, by the
Rev. Thomas Gillespie, Minister of the Gospel at Dunfermline;
t igether with a Letter by the late Mr. Cuthbert, .Minister of
(Julross, on the Danger of Considering the Influence of the
Spirit as a Rule of Duty; with a Preface by Dr. Erskine.
ICJinburgh, 1774.

4. .A. Treatise on Temptation, by the Rev. Thomas Gillespie.
J'refaced by Dr. Erskine, 177 1.

5. A History of the Work of Redemption, by the late
J mathan Edwards, 8vo. Edinburgh, 1774.

of the last century threatened the subversion of social
order in Europe, was the destruction of all Christian
church establishments; and an association was actu-
ally formed on the Continent for this purpose.
Dr. Erskine, however, having in the course of his
researches into the state of religion discovered the
existence of this association, gave the alarm to his
countrymen ; and Professor Robinson and the Abbe
Barruel soon after investigated its rise and progress,
and unfolded its dangers. The patriotic exertions of
those good men were crowned with success. Many
of those who had been imposed upon by the specious
arguments then in vogue were recalled to a sense of
reason and duty ; and even the multitude were
awakened to a sense of the impending danger when
the true character of the religion and morality of
those political regenerators, who would have made
them their dupes, were disclosed and illustrated by
the practical commentary which the state of Prance
afforded. The consideration that he had assisted to
save this country from the horrors to which the
French nation had been subjected, was one of the
many gratifying reflections which solaced Dr. Er-
skine on looking back, in his old age, on his labo-
rious and well-spent life.

Dr. Erskine's zeal in the cause of religion led him
to take a large share in the business of the Society for
the Propagation of Christian Knowledge; and even
when, through the infirmities of bad health and old
age, he was unable to attend the meetings of that
body, such was the dependence of the directors on
his information and sound judgment, that on any
difficulty occurring in the management of their af-
fairs, they were in the habit of consulting him at his
own house. In the General Assembly of the Church

6. Sermons on Various Important Subjects, by Jon.athan
Edwards, i2mo. Edinburgh, 1785.

7. Dying Exercises of Mrs. Deborah Prince, and Devout
Meditations of Mrs. Sarah (jIII, Daughters of the late Rev.
Thomas Prince, Minister of South Church, Boston, New
England. 1785.

8. Six Sermons, by the late Rev. Thomas Prince, A.M.,
one of the Ministers m the South Church, Boston. Published
from his Manuscript, with a Preface by Dr. Erskine, contain-
ing a very Interesting Account of the Author, of his Son v.ho
pre-deceascd him, and of three of his Daughters.

Q. Practical Sermons, by the Rev. Thomas Prince, £vo,
1788.

10. Twenty Sermons, by the Rev. Thomas Prince, on
Various Subjects. Edinburgh, 1789.

11. A Reply to the Religious Scruples against Innocidating
the ,Sm.all-pox, in .a Letter to a Friend, by the late Rev.
William Cooper of Boston, New England. Edinburgh, 1791.

12. The Safety of Appearing at the Day of Judgment in the
Righteousness of Christ, opened and applied, by Solomon
.Stoddart, Pastor to the Church of Northampton, in New
England, the Grandfather .and Predecessor of Mr. Jonathan
Edwards. Edinburgh, 1792. Fourth edition, with a Preface,
containing some account of him, and an Acknowledgment of
the Uiiscrlpturalness of scmie of his Sentiments.

13. Miscellaneous Observations on Important Theological
Subjects. By the l.ate Jonathan Edwards. Edinburgh, 1793.

14. Sermons and Tracts, .separately published at Boston,
Philadelphia, and now first collected into one vcilume, by
Jonathan Dickenson, A.M., late President of the College ^'i
New Jersey. Edinburgh, 1793.

15. A Sermon preached on the Fast I^ay, 28th February,
1794, at the French Chapel Royal, at .St. James's, and at the
Royal Crown Court, Soho, by AJr. (Albert. Transl.ated from
the French by a Young Lady, Dr. F'.rsklne's Grand-daughter

daughter <if Charles Stuart, M.D.j, with a short Preface by
Dr. Erskine. 'Edinburgh, 1794.

16. Remarks on Important Theological Controversies, by
Mr. Jonathan Edwards, 1796.

17. .Select Discourses, by Eminent Ministers in America.
Two volumes. Edinburgh, i79fi.

18. Religious Intelligence and .Seasonable Advice from
Abroad, concerning Lay Preaching and Exhortation, in four
separate Pamjjhlets. Edinburgh, 1801.

19. Discourses on the Christian Temper, by J. Evans. D.D..
with an .Account of the Life of the Author, l>y Dr. I'.rsklne.

Ivllnburgh, 1802.

20. New Religious Intelligence, chiefly from the .\merican
States. Edinburgh, 1802,

JOHN ERSKINE.

553

of Scotland he was for many years the leader of the
popular party; there the openness and integrity of
his character secured him the confidence and affec-
tion of his friends, and the esteem and respect of his
opponents. The friendship which subsisted lx:tween
him and Principal Robertson, the leader of the
moderate party, has been objected to by some of his
more rigid admirers, as displaying too great a degree
of liberality — a fact strongly illustrative of the ran-
cour which existed in former times among the High
Church party. The courtesy which marked Dr. Kr-
skine's conduct to Principal Robertson throughout
their lives, and the candour which led him to bear
testimony to the high talents and many estimable
qualities of tiie historian in the funeral sermon which
he preached on the death of that great man, did equal
honour to Dr. Erskine's head and his heart. The
following anecdote has been told of one rupture of
the friendship which subsisted in early life between
Principal Robertson and Dr. Erskine. Mr. White-
field, who was sent by the English Methodists as a
missionary into Scotland, at first formed a connec-
tion with the SWeJcTs, the body which had left llie
Established church ; but when he refused to con-
fine his ministrations to them, they denounced him,
and his character became a controversial tojMC.
Mr. Erskine, sometime before he obtained the living
of Kirkintilloch, appears to have been a great ad-
mirer of the character of this celebrated preaclier,
and to have been strongly impressed with the force
of his powerlul eloquence, and the usefulness and
efficacy of his evangelical doctrines. It unfortunately
happened that at the time when the friends and
enemies of Mr. Whitefield were keenly engaged in
discussing his merits, the question as to his character
and usefulness was made the subject of debate in a
literary society which Robertson and Erskine harl
formed. Contlicting opinions were expressed, and
the debate was conducted with so much zeal and as-
perity that it occasioned not only the dissolution of
th^ society, but it is said to have led to a temporary
interruption of the private friendship and intercourse
which subsisted between Erskine and Robertson.
There is another anectlote of tiiesc two great men,
which tells more favouralily for Dr. Erskine's modera-
tion and command of temper, and at the same time
shows the influence which he had acquired over the
Edinburgh mob. During tlie disturbances in Eilin-
burgh in the years 1778 and 1779, occasioned liy the
celebrated bill proposed at tiiat time to be intnxluced
into parliament for the repeal of tiie penal statutes
against tlie Roman Catholics in .Scotland, tlie popu-
lace of Edinl)urgh assembled in the college court
willi the intention of tleniolishing the house of Prin-
cijial Robertson, who had taken an active part in ad-
vocating the abo!iti<m of these penal laws; and there
seems to be little doubt that the mob would have
attempted to carry their threats into execution in
defiance of the miUtary, which had been called out,
had not Dr. l>>kine appeared, and by his presence
and exhortAtions (iispcr>ed them.

Dr. Mr>kine's ojiinions, butli in church and state
]i'ililies, will lie be>t understood fr<i:n the following
sli.irt account of the jxirt he took on several of tlie
important discussion^ which divided the country
during his life. In tlie year 1769, on the occasion
of the breach with America, lie entered into a con-
troversy with Mr. W'e-ley, and puIiliNhed more than
one pamplilct deprecating the contest. Ile\va-.an
enemy to the new constitution given to (/ana !a, by
which he con-i-lered the Catiiolic religion to be too
much favoured. In 177S. when the attempt was
made to repeal certain of the penal enactment> again-t
the Roman Catludics vi Creat r<! itain, he testified his

apprehensions of the consequences in a correspond-
ence between him and Mr. I5urke, which was pub-
lished. And finally, we have already seen that he
took an active and prominent jwrt, in his old age, in
support of constitutional princqdes, when threatened
by the Erench revolution.

Having attained to theeighty-second ycarof hisage,
Dr. Erskine was suddenly stnick with a mortal dis-
ease, and died at his house in Eaurist(m Dane, Edin-
burgh, on the 19th of Januar)', 1803, after a few
hours' illness. He had been from his youth of a
feeble constituticm, and for many years previous to
his death, his appearance had been that of one in
the last stage of existence; and during many winters
he had been unable to i)erfonn his sacred duties with
regidarity; nor did he once jireach during the la.st
sixteen months of his life. I'efore he was entirely
incaj^acitated for public duty, his voice had become
too weak to be distinctly heard by his congregation.
Still, however, the vivacity of his look and the
energy of his manner l^espoke the warmth of his
heart and the vigour of his mind. His menial facul-
ties remained unim[)aired to the last; and, unaffected
by his bodily decay, his memorv* was as gijod, his
judgment as sound, his imagination as lively, and his
inclination for study as strong, as during his most
vigorous years, and to the last he was actively en-
gaged in those pursuits which had formed the busi-
ness and pleasure of his life. Even the week before
his death, he had sent notice to his publisher that
he had collected materials for the 6th numl)er of the
periodical pamphlet he was then publishing, entitled
Religious Inldligencc front Al'i-oaJ.

In his temper Dr. Erskine was anient ar.<l be-
nevolent, his affections were warm, his attachments
lasting, and his piety constant and most sincere.
He was remarkable for the simplicity of his manners,
and for that genuine humility which is frequ<?ntly tlie
concomitant and Ijrightest ornament of high talents.
In his beneficence, which was great, but unostenta-
tious, he religiously observed the Scripture ]irecept in
the distribution of his charity and in the performance
of his many good and friendly otTices. We cann('t
close this short sketch of Dr. Erskine more apjiro-
priatelythan in thegraiib.icwordsof ourgr at novelist,
who, in his Guy Mdunrrirtg, has presented us, as it
were, with a living picture of this eminent divine.
" The colleague of I >r. Robertson a-cended thepulj'it.
His external appearance was not ]ire]H)sse~^ing. .\
remarkably fair complexion, strangely contracted with
a black wig, without a grain of I'lowder; a narrow
chest and a stooping jiosture; hands which., jlaced
like ])ro]is on cither side of the pulpit, -eemed necis.
sary rather to sujiport the person than to ns-i>t the
gesticulation of the preacher. —no gown, r.ot eve:i
that of Genev.a. a tumbled lund. and a ge-;i;re \\\i:c\\
seemed scarcely voluntary, were tlie \u< c:rci:;-,;-
stances wliich struck a stranger. "'rh.e ;'ic.Ti.I.i.r
seems a very ungainly person," wliis;.ere i .NI.inp.er;;.g
to his iKw friend.

'"Never fear, he is the son of .-.n excellent Scot-
tish lawyer, he'll sh.ow 1/Ioo,i, I'll wen ant I.ini.'

"The learned counsellor ireliwcl ti-,:Iy. A
lectuie was delivereil. fiau^l;: w.th r.ew. -tiiking. .-.:-, 1
entertaining vieus ,,f Scii; ;'.::e li -"'-r)- a -ernion. -.n
which the CalviniMn ^'( :!;e Kirk of Scotl.m ! w.:-
ably sutiported. yet mv'e t!;e b.-i~:-of.-i ^.^v.l\■\ vy^ttr.i
iA prac'ticai m^rcN. wl.ieh -l-.-nild ne.;!;', r -l.elter ;;.e
sinner unier tlie cl '.ik if -; ecr.!.V.;ve f.-.;'!i or oj
peculiaritNof Mpini'^;-.. n^r le.we I'.ini I'Mi-e to the^\.^vec
of unbelief anl -ch;Mn. S.'metlnrg there w.\s of .i.n
antiquated tnni ^A argntiu-nt an 1 nu-t.-rhor. but it
onlv .-erve 1 to give /e-t and j'ecr.lir.r;: y to the style
of eloec.ti n. i'lie scnU'jn v.a- y. A t.c.i — a scrap 1 f

554

RALPH ERSKINE.

paper, containing the heads of the discourse was
occasionally referred to, and the enunciation, which
at first seemed imperfect and embarrassed, became,
as the preacher warmed in his progress, animated
and distinct: and although the discourse could not
be quoted as a correct specimen of pulpit eloquence,
yet Manncring had seldom heard so much learning,
metaphysical acuteness, and energy of argument
brought into the service of Christianity. 'Such,'
he said, going out of the church, 'must bave been
the preachers to whose unfearing minds, and acute
though sometimes rudely exercised talents, we owe
the Reformation.'

'"And yet that reverend gentleman,' said Pley-
dell, 'whom I love for his father's sake and his own,
has nothing of the sour or pharisaical pride which
has been imputed to some of the early fathers of the
Calvinistic Kirk of Scotland. His colleague and he
differ, and head different parties in the kirk, about
particular points of church discipline; but without
for a moment losing personal regard or respect for
each other, or suffering malignity to interfere in an
o'pposition, steady, constant, and apparently consci-
entious on both sides.'"

Ur. Erskine was married to Christian Mackay,
third daughter of George, third Lord Ray, by whom
he had a family of fourteen children, but of whom
only four survived him, David Erskine, Esq. of Car-
i;ock, and three daughters.

ERSKESTE, Ralpu, the well-known author of
Gospel Sonnets, and other highly esteemed writings,
was a younger son of Henry Erskine, some time
minister of Cornhill in Northumlierland, and, after
the Revolution, at Chirnside, Berwickshire, and was
born at Monilaws, in Northumberland, on the 1 8th
day of March, 1685. Of his earlier studies we know
nothing. Like his brother, Ebenezer, he probably
learned his letters under the immediate eye of his
f.ither, and, like his brother, he went through a
regular course of study in the university of Edin-
burgh. During the later years of his studentship he
resided as tutor and chaplain in the house of Colonel
Erskine, near Culross, where he was gratified with
tlie evangelical preaching, and very often the edify-
ing conversation, of the Rev. Mr. Cuthbert, then
minister of Culross. He had here also frequent
o;)portunities of visiting his brother Ebenezer; but
tliough younger in years, and less liberally endowed
with the gifts of nature, he was a more advanced
scholar in the school of Christ, and his brother, if we
may believe his own re])ort, was more benefited by
him than he was by his broliier. Residing within its
b'junds, lie was, by the presl:)ytery of Dunfermline,
licensed as a preacher, on the 8th day of June, 1709.
He continued to be a jirohatifjuer nearly two years,
a somewhat lengthened period in tiie then desolate
state of the church, when he received a unanimous
call from the jjarish of Dunfermline, to serve as
colleague and successor to the Rev. Mr. Buchanan,
which he accejited, and to which he was ordained
in the month of August, 1711, his friend Mr. Cuth-
bert of Culross presiding on tlie occasion. In cuni-
nvjn witli all the churches of the Reformation, the
Church of Scotland was from her earlie>t dawn of
returning light distinguished for her attachment to the
d<jctrines of grace. There, as elsewiiere, it was the
doctrine of grace in giving thorough righteousness unto
eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord, ])reached in its
purity, freedom, and fulness, by Hamilton, Wisliart,
and Knox, which shook from his firm base thedagon
of idolatry, and levelled the towers of pa])al sujiersti-
tion; and it was in the faith of the same doctrines
tiiat tlie illustrious list of martvrs and confes=ois

under the two Charleses, and the Jameses si.xth and
seventh, endured such a great fight of affliction and
resisted unto blood. At the happy deliverance from
persecution in the year 1688, the ecclesiastical con-
stitution of the country was happily restored, with
the whole system of doctrine entire. When her
scattered ministry began to be assembled, however,
it was found that the sword of persecution or the
scythe of time had cut off the chief of her strength.
The few that had escaped were men, generally
speaking, of inferior attainments. Some of them
had been protected purely by their insignificancy of
character, some by compliances, real or affected, with
the system of prelacy, and not a few of them had
actually officiated as the bishops' underlings, but for
the sake of the benefice were induced to transfer
their respect and obedience from the bishop to the
presbytery, and to sign the Confession of Eaith as a
proof of their sincerity. This was the more unfor-
tunate that there was among them no commanding
spirit, who, imbued with the love of truth, might
have breathed through the body an amalgamating
influence, and have insensibly assimilated the whole
into its own likeness. In consequence of this stale
of matters, there was less attention paid both to
doctrine and discipline than might have been ex-
pected; and even with the better and more serious
part of the clergy considerable confusion of ideas on
the great subject of the gospel, with no inconsider-
able portion of legalism, were prevalent. A spirit
of inquiry was, however, at this time awakened, and
the diffusion of Trail's works, with the works of
some of the more eminent of the English Noncon-
formists, had a powerful effect in correcting and en-
larging the views of not a few of the Scottish clergy,
among whom was the subject of this memoir, who
from a very early period of life seems to have felt
strongly, and apprehended clearly, the great scheme
of the gospel. Air. Ralph Erskine had been a most
diligent student, and had made very considerable
progress in the different branches of science which
were commonly studied at that time; and he con-
tinued to be a hard student even to his old age,
generally writing out his sermons in full, and for the
most part in the delivery keeping pretty close to
what he had written. For the pulpit he possessed
excellent talents, having a pleasant voice and an
agreeable winning manner. lie jicculiarly excelled
in the full and free offers of Christ which he made
to his hearers, and in the persuasive and winning
manner in which he urged their acceptance of the
offer so graciously made to them on the authority of
the divine Word. He possessed also, from his own
varied and extensive experience, a great knowledge
of the human heart, and had a singular gift of speak-
ing to the varied circumstances of his hearers, which
rendered him more than ordinarily popular. On
sacramental occasic^ns he was always waited upon
by large audiences, who listened to his discourses
with mtjre than ordinary earnestness. During his
incuml)ency Dunfermline, at the time of dispens-
ing the sacrament, was crowded by strangers from
all parts of the kingdom, many of whom, to the
day of their death, spoke with transjiort of tlie
enlargement (jf heart they had there experience<l.
To all the other duties of the ministry he was equally
attentive as to those of the pulpit. His diligence in
exhorting from house to house was most unwearied,
his diets of public catechizing, regular; and he was
never wanting at the side of the sick-bed when his
])resence was desired. Ardently attached to divine
truth, he was on all occasions its dauntless advocate.
In the case of Professor .Simpson he stood u]) man-
fully fjr the regular exercise of discipline, both in

RALPH ERSKIXE.

555

his first and second process; and in the case of the
Marrow, had his own share of the toil, trouble, and
opprolirium cast upon the few ministers who at that
time had the hardihood to make an open appearance
for the genuine faith of the gospel. Before the com-
mencement of the secession he was engaged, along
with his co-presbyters of the presbytery of Dunferm-
line, in a dispute with the General Assembly, in lie-
half of the liberties of the Presbyterian Ciiurch of
Scotland, in which, however, they failed. This was
in the case of Mr. Stark, who had been most shame-
fully intruded upon the burgh and parish of Kinross,
and whom, in consequence, the presbytery of Dun-
fermline refused to admit as one of their members.
The case w.as brought before the assembly, 1732,
and summarily decided by ordering the j^resbytery to
assemble immediately, and enrol Mr. Stark as one
of their members, give him the right hand of fellow-
ship, and by all means in their power to strengthen
his hands, and hold him up against the opposition
that was raised against him by the parish, under the
pain of being visited with the church's highest dis-
pleasure. Against this decision protests were offered
by Mr. Ralph Erskine and others, but they were per-
emptorily refused. Another act of the same assem-
bly became the ostensible cause of the secession. In
this controversy, however, Mr. Ralph Erskine had
no share, farther than that he adhered to the pro-
tests that were offered in belialf of the four brethren
who carried it on, took their part on all occasions,
attended many of tlieir meetings, and maintained the
closest communion with them, both Christian and
ministerial; but he did not withdraw from the judi-
catures of the Established church till the month of
February, 1737, when, seeing no hope of any refor-
mation in tliat quarter, he gave in a declaration of
secession to the presln'tery of Dunfermline, and
joined the Associate presbytery.

The fame of Mr. Ralpii Erskine was now, by his
taking part with the secession, considerably extend-
ed; for the circumstances attending it were making
a great noise in every corner of the country. It par-
ticularly attracted the notice of Wesley and White-
hold, who at this time were laying tiie foundations
of Methodi-im in England. Tlie latter of these gen-
tlemen entered shortly after this period into corres-
pondence with Mr. Ralpii Erskine, in consequence
of which he came to Scotland, paitl a visit to him,
and preached the first sermon he delivered in this
country from that gentleman's pulpit in Dunfermline,
Tiie professed object of Mr. Whitefield was the same
as that of tlie secession, namely, the reformation of
the church, and the promoting of the interests of
holine>-i; and one mode of doing so he held in com-
mon witli seceders, which was tiie preaching of the
doctrines of the cross; in everything else tltey were
directly opposed to each other. Ecjually or even
more deciilediy attached to the doctrines of free
grace, tiie seceders considered the settlement of
nation-; and churches as of the last importance for
preserving, iiromoting, and perpetuating tnie and
undet"ilcd religion. Nations, in conseipience of the
ba)iti>nial engagement-; of the individuals of which
they may be conqiosed, they held to be under iu-
dispen-.ai)le (j!)ligations t') ni.ike a national protession
of religion; to c.iu-.e that all their laws he made to
accord witli its -.pirit, and to proviile fir the due
celeltrati'iii of all its ordinances. ( )aths, hom!.,, and
civil associations they held to he. in their <.wn pro-
per places, legitimate means of attaining, promoting,
and pre-erving retomiation. Ilence they maintained
the inviolalile ol)Hgations of tlie natior.al covenant
of Scotland, and of tlie solemn league and covenant
of the three kingdoms, and issued tiieir tcstiinimy as

a declaration for the doctrine, worship, discipline,
and government of the Church of Scotland. Of all
these matters Whitefield was utterly ignorant, and
utterly careless. He h.ad received priot's orders in
the English church, and had sworn the oath of su-
])remacy, which one would suppose a pretty strong
declaration of his l)eing episcopal in his views. (Jf
government in the church, however, he made little
account, for he wandered about from land to land,
acknowledging no superior, ami seems to have re-
garded all the forms in which Christianity lias been
embodied with efpial favour, or rather, perhaps,
with equal ct)ntempt. Of course Mr. Whitefield
and Mr. Erskine had no sooner met and begun to
explain their views, than they were mutually dis-
gusted, and they parted in a manner which, we think,
has left no credit to either of the parties.

The Associate presbytery was at this time prepar-
ing for what they considered the practical comple-
tion of their testimony, the renewal of the national
covenants, in a bond suited to their circumstances,
which they did at .Stirling, in the month of Decem-
ber, 1743; Mr. Ralph Erskine being the second
name that was subseribed to the bond. The s\\ ear-
ing of this bontl necessarily introduced the discussion
of the religious clause of some l^urgcss oaths, which
led to a breach in the secession body, an account of
which the reader will find in a previous article [the
life of Ebenezer Erskine]. In this controversy Mr.
Ralph Erskine took a decided part, being a violent
advocate for the lawfulness of tlie oath. He, how-
ever, did not long survive that unhappy rupture,
being seized with a nenous fever, of which he died
after eight days' illness, on the 6th of Xovenil>er,
1752, being in the sixty-eighth year of his age, and
the forty-second of his ministry.

Mr. Ralph Erskine was twice married; first, to
Margaret Dewar, daughter to the laird of La>sodie,
who died in the month of Xovembei', 1730; having
lived with him sixteen years, and borne him ten chil-
tlren. He married, secondly, Margaret Sinips<'i!,
daughter to Mr. Simjison, writer to the signet, Edin-
burgh, who bore him four children, and survived,
him several years. Three of his sons lived to be
ministers of the secession church, but they all died
in the prime of life, to the grief of their relatives and
friends, who had formed the highest expectations <:■{
their future usefulness.

Of the character of Mr. Ral] h Erskine there can
be. and, in fact, we l)elieve there is, but one opinion.
Few greater names belong to the Church of .Sc itland,
of which, notwithstanding of his secession, he con-
si<lered himself, atid must by every fiir and impartial
man. be considered to have been a nio-t dutilul -^^a
to the day of his death. During the days o{ Ralpii
I-",rskine, dissenterism was a name and tiling unkii'i" n
in the secession. .Seceders ha<l dissented tri':n -"ir.e
unconstitutional acts (if the judicature ol the l-.^t;;''-
lished cluirch, and were conqielle 1 to s;;eede. ! •.::
they held fast her whole con~tiiuti'>n. entered tlieir
apjieal to her first free and relorniir.g n--en;My, t"
which every genuine secckr I'lig l""led lirwar!
with deep anxiety, rea'ly to pk.i'i h;-- cau-e liet'r-/
it. and willing to >taiid .r tall by is ir.dgnier.t. « if
Mr. Ralph F.r-kine's writing- it i~ scarcely r.ece--aiy
to speak, any iiMre than ^A hi- elMraetcr. 'I hey
have already', several ot tluni. si-.-i a century .,,"
crilici-ni, and are j'.:-t n- iiiiu h \a!i;e i 1 y i-;. iU- ar.d
discerning readier-, as t!j;y wire "'.i tlie cay v. Inn
they were tust jniMi-Le i. M.-'iI- ot c ■nij ■ '-'.t;' n
they arc n.'t, r..r d . we i'e'.ieve tliat they e-.er were;
but thev aic wC:. with tlie "re '^i '".ivine truth, ai.d
contain ni.mv ].i---.g s tliat are iir.conmi' i;ily ^ ;g"rr.i.-s
and ha-.^'V. ' (, itiri- poetical w. rks we liave not roe,ia

536

THOMAS ALEXANDER ERSKINE THOMAS ERSKINE.

to say much; some of them are all that the author
intended, which is more than can be said of many
poetical productions that have a much higher repu-
tation in the world. His Gospel Sonnets, by far the
best of his poems, he composed when he had but
newly entered on his ministry, as a compend of the
scheme of the gospel, and we know few books that
in a smaller compass contain one more perfect. The
composition is very homely, but it is just so much
bitter fitted for tlie serious and not highly instructed
reader, whose benefit alone the author had in view.
Of his versions of the Song of Solomon, of tlie La-
mentations of Jeremiah, and of the Book of Job, it
must be admitted that they are utterly unworthy of
the gloriously divine originals; but it ought to be
rjmembered, that he was put upon these labours by
t!ie urgency of his brethren, with a view to their
being added to the psalmody, and that in this case,
jilainness and simplicity has always been aimed at,
to a degree bordering on the bold, not to say the
profane. Nor are these attempts, after all, beneath
several of the same kind by the greatest names in
English poetry.

ERSKINE, Thomas Alexander, sixth Earl
of Kellie, a distinguished musical genius, was born
on Septemlier 1st, 1732. He was the elflest son of
Alexander, fifth Eari of Kellie, by Janet Pitcairn,
daughter of the celebrated physician and poet.
The Earls of Kellie were a branch of the I\Larr
family, ennobled through the favour of James VL,
w hich was acquired by the services of Sir Thomas
Erskine of Gogar, in protecting his majesty from
tlie Earl of Gowrie and his brother. The father of
the subject of this memoir, though possessed of a
kind of rude wit, was always deemed a person of
imperfect intellect, of which he seems to have been
himself aware. Being confined in Edinburgh Castle
for his concern in the insurrection of 1745, he one
morning came into the room occupied l)y his brethren
iii misf<M-tune, showing a paper in his hand. This
was a list of persons whom the government had re-
solved to i^rosecute no further, and while his lord-
ship's name stood at the head, on account of his rank,
it was closed by the name of a Mr. William Eidler,
wlio liad been an auditor in the Scottish exchequer.
"Oh, is not this a wise government?" cried the earl,
"to begin wi' a fule and end wi' a fiddler!" On his
lordship's death, in 1756, he was succeeded by his
eldest son, who seems to have inlierited the wit of
his father, along with the more brilliant genius of his
mother's family.

The Earl of Kellie displayed, at an early period
of life, a considerable sliare of ability; and it was
anticipated tliat he would distinguish himself in some
])ublic employment worthy of his exalted rank. He
\vas led, however, Ijy an overmastering propensity
to music, to devote himself almost exclusively to
that art. We are informed l)y Dr. Burney, in his
Jlistory of Music, that "tlie Earl (jf Kellie, who was
]iossessed of more musical science than any dilletanle
v/ith whom I was ever accjuainted, and who, accord-
ing to rinto, before he travelled into Ciermany, could
sjarcely tune liis fiddle, shut himself up at .Manlieim
with the elder Stamitz, and studied composition,
and jiractised the violin with such serious a])plica-
tion, that, at his return to England, there was no
part of theoretical or i:)ractical music in which he
v.as not equally well versed with the greatest pro-
fessors of his time. Indeed, he liad a strength of
hand on the violin, and a genius for comjiosition,
v/ith wliich few professors are gifted." In the age
during wliich the Earl of Kellie flourished, it was
Uiifortunately deemed an almost indispensable mark

of a man of genius, either in literature or music, to
devote himself much to the service of Bacchus.
Hence this young nobleman, whose talents might
have adorned almost any walk of life, identified him-
self with the dissolute fraternity who haunted the
British metropolis, and of whom there was a con-
siderable offshoot even in Edinburgh. Thus he
spent, in low buffooneries and debaucheries, time
which might have been employed to the general ad-
vantage of his country. He, nevertheless, composed
a considerable quantity of music, which, in its day,
enjoyed a high degree of celebrity, though it is gene-
rally deemed, in the present age, to be deficient in
taste and feeling. "In his works," says a late writer,
"the_/cVT7'(/;/;;/ ingoiiuvi of his country bursts forth,
and elegance is mingled with fire. Erom the sin-
gular ardour and impetuosity of his temperament,
joined to his German education, under the celebrated
Stamitz, and at a time when the German overture,
or symphony, consisting of a grand chorus of violins
and wind-instruments, was in its highest vogue, this
great composer has employed himself chiefly in sym-
phonies, but in a style peculiar to himself. While
others please and amuse, it is his province to rouse
and almost overset his hearer. Loudness, rapidity,
enthusiasm, announced the Earl of Kellie. His
harmonics are acknowledged to be accurate and in-
genious, admirably calculated for the effect in view,
and discovering a thorough knowledge of music.
Erom some specimens, it appears that his talents
were not confined to a single style, which has made
his admirers regret that he did not apply himself to
a greater variety of subjects. He is said to have
composed only one song, but that an excellent one.
What appears singularly peculiar in this musician,
is what may be called the velocity of his talents, by
which he composed whole pieces of the most excel-
lent music in one night. Part of his works are still
unpublished, and not a little is probably lost. Being
always remarkably fond of a concert of wind-instm-
ments, whenever he met with a good band of them
he was seized with a fit of composition, and wrote
pieces in the moment, which he gave away to the
jierformers, and never saw again; and these, in his
own judgment, were the best he ever composed.'"^

Having much impaired his constitution by hard
living, the Earl of Kellie visited Spa, from wliich he
was returning to England, \\hen he was struck with
a paralytic shock upon the road. Being ad\ised to
stop a few days at Brussels, he was attacked by a
putrid fever, of which he died at that city, on the
9th of October, 17S1, in tlie fifty-first year of his
age.

ERSKINE, Thomas, Lord Erskine, was the
youngest son of David Henry, tenth lOarl of Buchan.
He was biMii in the year 1750, and, after having
passed through the high-school classes at Edinburgh,
was sent to the university of .St. Andrews to finish
his education. At a very early age he had imbibed
a strong i>redilection for a naval life; and the limited
means (jf his family rendering an early ado])tion of
some jirofession necessary, he was allowed to enter
the service as a midshi])man, under Sir John Lindsay,
iicpliew to tlic celebrated l^arl of Mansfield. \'ouiig
jjskme embarked at Leitli, and did not ]iut fcol
again on liis native soil until a few years before his
death. He never, it is believed, held the conmiis-
sion of lieutenant, although he acted for some time
in that capacity by the sjjecial appointment of his
ca])tain, \\hose kindness in this instance ultimately
led to his elevc's abandoning tlie service altogether.

1 Kobcrtsoli of I);i

, Inqidiy iiiio the l-'inc Atis, vol. i.

THOMAS ERSKINE.

557

•whin required to resume the inferior station of a
midsliipman. After a service of four years, he quitted
the navy, and entered the army as an ensign, in tlie
royals, or first rejjiment of foot, in 1768. In 1770
he married an amiable and accompHshed woman,
and shortly afterwards went with his regiment to
Minorca, where he spent three years. While in the
army, he actjuired great reputation for the versatility
and acuteness of his conversational powers, boswx'll,
who met with the young officer in a mixed comi)any
in Lonilon, mentions the pleasure which Dr. John-
son condescended to express on hearing him — an
approbation which assures us that the young Scots-
man's colloquial talents were of no ordinary kind,
and possessed something more than mere brilliancy
or lluency, even at that early period of life. It was
tlie knowledge of these qualities of mind, probably,
which induced his mother — a lady whose uncommon
acquirements we have already had occasion to eulo-
gize in a memoir of another son — to urge him to
devote the great energies of his mind to the study
of the law and jurisprudence of his countr\\ Her
advice, seconded by the counsel of a few judicious
friends, was adopted; and, in his 27th year, Thomas
Erskine renounced the glittering j)rofession of arms
for tlie graver studies of law.

He entered as a fellow-commoner at Trinity Col-
lege, Cambridge, in the year 1777, merely to obtain
a degree, to which he was entitled as the son of a
nobleman, ami thereby shorten his passage to the
bar; and, at the same time, he inserted his name in
the books of Lincoln's Inn, as a student at law. One
of his college declamations is still extant, as it was
delivered in Trinity College chapel. The thesis was
the revolution of l6S8, and the fust prize was awarded
to its author; but, with tliat nobleness of feeling
which always characterized him, he refused to accept
of the reward, alleging as an excuse, that he had
merely declaimed in conformity with tlie rules of
college, and, not being a resident student, was not
entitled to any honorary distinction. A burlesque
parody of Grays Bard which appeared about this
time in the Monlhly Ma^^azhic, was generally attri-
buted to Mr. Erskine. The origin of this produc-
tion was a circumstance of a luimorous nature. The
autiior had been prevented horn taking his place at
dinner in the college-hall, by tiie neglect of his bar-
ber, who failed to present iiimself in projier time.
In the moment of supposed disappointment, lumger,
and irritation, the bard pours fortii a violent male-
diction against the whole tril)e of hair-dressers, and,
in a, strain (jf prophetic denunciation, foretells the
overthrow of their craft in tlie future taste for cro]iped
hair and uuiiowdered heads. The ode is little re-
inarkal)le for poetical excellence, but disjdays a lively
fancy an<l keen perception of the ludicrous. In
order t ) acfjuire that knowledge of the technical
pan of his jirofe^sion, without which a barrister tind>
him-ielf hampered at every step, Mr. Erskine be-
came a ]nipil of Mr. (afterwards Judge) Huller, then
an eminent sjiecial pleader, and disciiarged Ins
laborious and servile avocation at the desk with all
the [lersevering indi!-.try of a common attornev's
clerk. L'poii tlie proniotioii of his prece])tor to
tiie bench, he entered the ofiice of Mr. (afterwards
Uaron) Wood, where he coiitiniu-d for some months
after he had obtained con>ider.i;)le lnisine^> at tlie
bar.

At this ti!iie hi^ evcnin,;- were often spent in a
celebrated debating as-.oei.uioii tlien lield in (..'naeli-
maker>' llall. Tlie>e sinniting elub^, at the perio.!
of wjiich we speak, were regar.ied \\\{\\ a jealous
eye by the government ; and it was con-i lere 1 di---
crediiable, or at least prejtidici.il to tl-.c ir.ti-rc-'.s of

any young man who looked forward to patronage
at the bar, to l>e connected with them. The subjects
u.iually discussed were of a political nature, and the
harangues, delivered in a motley assembly of men of
all ranks and principles, were often highly inflam-
matory in sentiment, and unguarded in expression.
lUit it was in such schools as these that the talents of
a I'.urke, and a I'itt, and an Erskine, were nursed into
that surpassing strength anil activity which afterwards
enabled them to "wield at will' not the "fierce
democracy," but even the senate of Great Britain.
While engaged in these preparatory studies, Mr.
Erskine was obliged to adhere to the most rigid
economy in the u>e of his very limited fin.ances— a
privation which the unvarying cheerfulness and strong
good sense of his amiable consort enabletl him to
bear with comparative ease.

Mr. Erskine, having completed the probationary
period allotted- to his attendance in the Inns of Court,
was called to the V)ar in 1778; and in the very outset
of his legal career, while yet of only one lenn's stand-
ing, made a most brilliant dis])lay of i)rofessional
talent in the case of Captain Piaillie, against whom
the attorney-general had moved for leave to file a
criminal information in the Court of King's liench,
for a libel on the Earl of .Sandwich. In the course
of this his first speech Mr. Erskine displayed the
same undaunted sjiirit which marked his whole
career. He attacked the noble carl in a strain of
severe invective. Lord Mansfield, observing the
young counsel heated with his subject, and growing
persinial on the first lord of the admiralty, told him
that Lord Sandwich was not before the court : " [
know," replied the undaunted orator, "that he is
not formally before the court; but for that very reason
I will bring him before the court. He has placed
there men in the front of the battle, in hopes to
escape under tlieir shelter; but I will not join in
battle with them ; ///<•.■> vices, though screwed up to
the highest pitch of human depravity, are not of
dignity enough to vindicate the combat with rnc ; I
will drag ///;;/ to light who is the dark mover behind
this scene of iniquity. I a.'-sert that the Earl of Saivi-
wich has but one road to escape out of this bu>ines>
without jiollution and disgrace: and that is, by pul>-
licly disavowing the acts of the jirosecutors, and
restoring Cajnain Baillie to his command."

Mr. Erskine's next speech was for Mr. Caman,
a bookseller, at the bar of the Ilou>e of Common^,
against the monopoly of the two univer>itie.-> in jirin". -
ing almanacs. Lord North, then ]->riine mini.-ter
and chancellor of Oxford, had introduced a bill ir.ti
the llou-e of Commons for revesting the universilie--
in tlieir monopoly, ^^llich had lallen to the ground
by certain judgments which Caman h.ad obtan.ed i:i
the court> i.if law; the ojipositioii to the j^reinier'-
niea>ure was considered a desper.ite attempt. l);:t, 1 >
the honour of the liou>e, the bill %\.-.s rejev.ic'i by a
majority of 45 votes.

Not I'oiig after having gained thi- ori..;ir..".I triumjl;,
Mr. I-'.r>kine made a m"-t spleii'Iid rqj'e.i ranee !■ r
tlie man nf tlie I'Cojde. l.>«r'l ( ienr.;e tioni^i. at tlie
Old l;ailey. T'h:> great -] eceh. and tlie ae<iuitt.^I
whicli it secured ti. tlie o' i.a ■ f it. l.r.ve bven pro-
nounced liy a competei't ju :,L,'e tlie deat'n-bli.w (.)t tlie
trenieiidou- doctritie .>f e' 'ii-tnu ti\ e tre-i-'ii. Tl.e
monster, iivleed, ii:.;rii!V-te>I -yir.; ;-ni- ^-f rLturiiir..;
life at an at'ter-i eri^ -1 : i-r.t ue >h.\V: v^e w;tli \Cii.','.
iiolile indi_;!;.\ti -n ;;~ extir; .-/.or Liuiithe'! a i-eC'r.-l
irre>i>tible -!'..i!'t .'.t t':ie r-;v;v;:ig re]'I;le. L'.r'l
(ieorgcV i:;ii eaL-!;meTU an-e <';it "f the f t:<.\v:ng
cir>;un>t.inee-. S!r. ( leor^e S.-.v.Iie li.-.d intr'i'iuLii
a bdl in;- r-irl!.Tment I'l.r'the relief cf ti\e K^nian
Cr.tl'.o'ijs of Lr^l.ir.-,; frL'ni s jr.ie of tiie pet'.alties ti.ev

553

THOMAS ERSKINE.

were subject to by the test laws. The good effects
of this measure, wliich only applied to England,
were immediately felt, and in the next session it was
proposed to extend the operation of similar measures
to Scotland. This produced many popular tumults
in Scotland, particularly in Edinburgh, where the
mob destroyed some Popish chapels. The irritation
of the public mind in Scotland soon extentled itself
to England, and produced a reaction of feeling in
t'.iat country also. A number of Protestant societies
were formed in both parts of the kingdom for the
purpose of obtaining the repeal of Saville's act, as
a measure fraught with danger to the constitution,
both of church and state. In November, 1779,
Lord George Gordon, the younger brotlier of tlie
Duke of Gordon, and at that time a member of the
House of Commons, became president of the asso-
ciated Protestants of London; and on the memorable
2d of June, 1780, while proceeding to present a
jietition against concession to Roman Catholics,
signed by 120,000 Protestants, was attended by a
mob so numerous, and who conducted themselves
so outrageously, as for a moment to extinguish all
])olice and government in the city of London. For
this indignity offered to the person of royalty itself.
Lord George and several others were committed to
the Tower. Upon his trial, Mr. Erskine delivered
a speech less remarkable, perhaps, for dazzling elo-
cpience, than for the clear texture of the whole ar-
gument maintained in it. A singularly daring pass-
age occurs in this speech, which the feeling of the
moment alone could prompt the orator to utter; after
reciting a variety of circumstances in Lord George
Gordon's conduct, which tended to prove that the
idea of resorting to absolute force and compulsion
by armed violence never was contemplated by the
])risoner, he breaks out with this extraordinary ex-
clamation : "I say, BY God, that man is a ruffian
who shall, after this, presume to build upon such
I'.onest, artless conduct as an evidence of guilt !"'
l)ut for the sympathy which the orator must have
felt to exist at the moment between himself and his
audience, this singular effort must have been fatal to
the cause it was designed to support; as it was, how-
ever, the sensation produced by these words, and
the look, voice, gesture, and whole manner of the
speaker, were tremendous. The result is well known;
but it may not be equally well known that Dr.
Johnson himself, notwithstanding his hostility to tlie
test laws, was highly gratified by the verdict which
was obtained: "I am glad," said he, "that Lord
(ieorge Gordon has escaped, rather than a precedent
should be established of hanging a man for construc-
tive treason."

Li 1783 Mr. Erskine received the honourof a silk
gown, his majesty's letter of jjrecedency being con-
fjrred u[>on him at the suggestion of the venerable
Lord ^Lansfleld. In the same year lie was elected
member of parliament for Portsmouth.

The defence of John .Stockdale, who was tried for
]iublishing a libel against the cjmmons house of par-
liament, has been pronounced the fir.^t in oratorical
talent, and is certainly not the last in imi)ortance of
Mr. l^rskine's sjieeches. This trial may be termed
the ca-e uf libels, and the doctrine maintained and
expounded in it by Stockdale's counsel is the founda-
tion of that liberty which the i)ress enjoys in this
country. When the House of Commons (jrdered tlie
impeacliment of Warren Hastings, the articles were
drawn up by Mr. Purke, who infused into them all
that fervijur of tliought and expression which ever
characterized Ids comjiositions. Tlie articles, so
] re]iare'l. in-tead of being confined to the records of
ih.- h'r.i.^e until they were carried up to the lord.-, fjr

trial, were printed and allowed to be sold in every
bookseller's shop in the kingdom before the accused
was placed upon his trial; and undoubtedly, from the
style and manner of their composition, made a deep
and general impression upon the public mind against
Mr. Hastings. To repel or neutralize the effect of
the publication of the charges, Mr. Logan, one of
the ministers of Leith, wrote a pamphlet, which
Stockdale published, containing several severe and
unguarded reflections ujion the conduct of the man-
agers of the impeachments, which the House of
Commons deemed highly contemptuous and libellous.
The publisher was accordingly tried, on an informa-
tion filed by the attorney-general. In the speecli
delivered by Mr. Erskine upon tliis occasion tiie
very highest efforts of the orator and the rhetorician
were united to all the coolness and precision of the
nisi prills lawyer. It was tliis rare faculty of com-
bining the highest genius with the minutest attention
to whatever might put his case in the safest position,
which rendered Mr. Erskine the most consummate
advocate of the age. To estimate the mightiness of
that effort by which he defeated his powerful anta-
gonists in this case, we must remember the imposing
circumstances of Mr. Hastings' trial — the "terrible,
unceasing, exhaustless artillery of warm zeal, match-
less vigour of understanding, consuming and devour-
ing eloquence, united with the highest dignity,"
to use the orator's own language — which was then
daily pouring forth upon the man in whose defence
Logan had written and Stockdale published. It
was "amidst the blaze of passion and prejudice"
that Mr. Erskine extorted that verdict, which rescued
his client from the punishment which a whole j^eople
seemed interested in awarding against the reviler of
its collective majesty. And be it remembered, that
in defending Stockdale the advocate by no means
identified his cause with a defence of Hastings. He
did not attempt to palliate the enormities of the
governor-general's administration ; he avowed that
he was neither his counsel, nor desired to have any-
thing to do with his guilt or innocence; although in
the collateral defence of his client, he was driven to
state matters which miglit be considered by many as
hostile to the impeachment. Our gifted countryman
never perverted his transcendent talents by devoting
them to screen villany from justice, or to the support
of any cause which he did not conscientiously aj)-
prove. His speech for the defendant at the trial of
a case of adultery in the Court of King's Pencil, may
be considered as an exception to this remark. It
must not be forgotten that it was delivered in behalf
of a gentleman of high family who had been attached
to a young lady, his etpial in years and birth, but
was jireveiited from marrying her by the sordid
interference of her relatives, who induced or rather
constrained her to an alliance with a nobler Ikaisc
The marriage was, as niight have been aiuici])ated,
a most unhapjiy one, and tlie original attachment
seems never to have been rejjlaced by any other, and
ultimately produced the elojjcment wliich (jccasioned
tlie action. Mr. Erskine does not affect to ])alliate
the crime of seduction; on the contrary, he dwells
at length on tlie miserable conse([uences occa^iored
l)y this crime; but, after having adverted with
ex<iuisile delicacy to the sacrifice of aflcction ai'.d
enjoyment which had been made in this case, lu;
charges the plaintiff with being the original seducer
of a woman, whose affections he knew to be iire-
Irievably bestowed u])oii and pledged to anotlier.

In 1807 Mr. ]'',rskine was exalted to the ]ieerngc
by the title of Lord Erskine of Restormal Castle, in
('ornwall, and accejited of the seals as lord liigli-
chancellur; but resigned them on the dissolution of

THOMAS ERSKINE.

539

the short-lived administration of that period, and
retired upon a pension of ;^4000 per annum. Since
that time to the period of his death, his loniship
stea(HIy devoted himself to his duties in parliament,
and never ceased to support, in his high station, those
measures and principles which he had advocated in
his younger years. It is deeply to be regretted that,
by an unhappy second marriage and some eccen-
tricities of conduct, very incompatible with his years
and honours, this nolileman should have at once
embittered the declining years of his own life, and
tarnished that high and unsullied character wliicli
he had formerly borne in public estimation. His
death was proiluced by an inflammation of the chest,
with which he was seized while on the voyage l^e-
twi.\t London and Edinburgh. He was landed at
.Scarborough, and proceeded to Scotland by short
stages, but died on the 17th of Noveml)er, 1823, at
Ammondell House. Mr. Erskine's peculiar sphere

seems to have been oratorical advocacy; his appear-
ance as a senator never equallc-d that which he made
at the bar. Nur is he entitled, as a political writer,
to much distinction. His pamphlet, entitled ^ /7<7i'
of the Causes atid Consequences 0/ the War -uuth
France, which he published in suppcjrt of Mr. Fox's
l)rinciples, indeed, ran through forty-eight editions;
but owed its unprecedented sale more to the spirit
of the times and the celebrity of its author's name,
than to its own intrinsic merit. The jireface to Mr.
Eo.x's collected s])ecches was also written by him,
as well as a singular political romance, entitled
Armaha, and some spirited pamjihlets in suj>port of
the Greek cause.

By his first wife Lord Erskinc had three sons and
five daughters. The elde>t of his sons, David Mon-
tague, who succeeded to his father's title, wa> fur some
timememberplenipotcntiarytothe United .States, and
afterwards resident at the court of Wirtemberg.

END OF VOL. I.

Glasgow;
blacki!': and ci).,
vii.lakiklu.

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