This affords us some idea of the beauties who gave its first attractions to the Assembly.
As a symptom of a good tendency, it is pleasant to notice at this date the establishment of a Society for Improving in the Knowledge of Agriculture, which proposed to hold quarterly general meetings in Edinburgh. The Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Kinnoull, Lord Elibank, John Campbell, Esq., Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir George Dunbar of Mochrum, Sir Alexander Hope of Kerse, Mr Lumsden of Innergellie, Mr John Murray, one of the Clerks of Session, and Ronald Campbell of Balerno, W.S., are enumerated as amongst the constituent members.[587] The Society in a short time comprehended three hundred of the principal landholders of Scotland. The centre and animating spirit of the fraternity is understood to have been a young Galloway gentleman, Robert Maxwell of Arkland, who about this time took a lease of the farm of Clifton-hall, near Edinburgh, and was there disposed to make experiments in improved husbandry.
The Improvers, as they were called, from the very first shewed a spirit of activity. In September 1724, we hear of them as being about to publish a book upon the fallowing of ground, the method of ordering ground for grass-seeds, the winning and cleaning of flax, and rules for bleaching linen cloth. At the same time, they patriotically entered into a resolution to discourage the use of smuggled foreign spirits by their personal example, and to use means for promoting the manufacture of spirits from native products.[588]
A few of their doings appear to us in a somewhat ludicrous light. For example—in July 1732, they figure in a tradesman’s advertisement of Punch Brandy, as certifying it to be ‘a very nice and exact composition,’ after ‘trials of it both in drams and punch.’
Two years later, it goes equally out of its way, but with better excuse, in recommending the woollen cloths made by Andrew Gardner, merchant in Edinburgh, and Andrew Ross, clothier in Musselburgh, as ‘sufficient cloths’ from five to fifteen shillings a yard; the encouraging of which will tend to advance a branch of native industry, and prevent the pernicious exportation of wool.
Nevertheless, there is all fair reason to believe that the Improvers were really worthy of their name. A volume of their Transactions, which Maxwell edited in 1743, enables us to judge of the general scope of their efforts. Meeting once a fortnight at a house near Hope Park, they received queries from individuals throughout the country on agricultural subjects, took these into consideration, and prepared answers. Fallowing, manuring, enclosing, how to treat different kinds of soils, the merits of the Lucerne and St Foin grasses, were the chief subjects discussed; and it must be acknowledged that their transactions bear a general air of judgment and good sense, in addition to a most earnest desire to make two blades grow where one grew before, and so increase the general wealth of the country.
The president for a number of years was Thomas Hope of Rankeillor, a man who deserves to be better remembered than he is. He took, in 1722, a long lease of a marshy meadow to the south of Edinburgh, drained it, and made it into a fine park with shady walks for the recreation of the citizens. He had travelled in England, France, and Holland, to pick up hints for the improvement of agriculture, and he was indefatigable in his efforts to get these introduced at home. It was somewhere in prospect of his park that the Society held its meetings. His relative, the contemporaneous Earl of Hopetoun, the Earl of Stair, the Earl of Ilay, Lord Cathcart, Lord Drummore, Sir John Dalrymple of Cousland, and Mr Cockburn of Ormiston, were other special zealots in the business of the Society, and whose names figure honourably in its transactions. It is particularly remembered, to the honour of the Earl of Stair, that he was the first to raise turnips in the open fields, and so laid the foundation of the most important branch of the store-husbandry of modern times.
When cattle were stolen in the Highlands, one of the means commonly taken for their recovery was to send an emissary into the supposed country of the thief, and offer a reward for his discovery. This was known among the Highlanders as tascal-money, and held in general abhorrence; yet it was sometimes effectual for its purpose.
The Camerons, living at issue with the government, had many disorderly men among them, and tascal-money became accordingly with them a peculiar abomination. To so great a height did this run, that a large portion of the clan voluntarily took oath to each other, over a drawn dirk, according to their custom, that they would never receive any such reward; otherwise might the weapon be employed in depriving them of their lives.
A creagh had taken place, and one of the Camerons was strongly suspected of having given information and taken the unclean thing. A few of his companions consequently called at his house one evening, and, pretending to have some business with him, took him out from his wife and family to a place at such distance as to be out of hearing, where they coolly deprived him of his life. The story is only related in the pages of Burt;[589] but there is too good reason to believe in its verity. The reporter adds, that for the same offence, another was made away with, and never more heard of.
A more gay and easy style of ideas was everywhere creeping in, to replace the stern and sombre manners of former less happy times. The ever-watchful Mr Wodrow observed the process going on even in the comparatively serious city of Glasgow. He remarks at this time how the young men of that city are less religiously educated than formerly, and how, going abroad in mercantile capacities, they come back with the loose habits of other countries. At the university, the students were beginning to evince a tendency to freedom of thought, and the statement of Trinitarian doctrines by the professors sometimes excited amongst them appearances of dissent and of derision. In the city where there had been a few years back seventy-two regular meetings for prayer, there were now four, while clubs for debating on miscellaneous, and often irreverent questions, were coming into vogue. The discipline of the church was beginning to be less regarded; delinquents receive countenance from society; women of improper |1724.| character were occasionally seen on the open street! It seemed to Mr Wodrow that some desolating stroke was impending over the western city. Indeed, they had already lost twenty thousand pounds through the Custom-house difficulties regarding tobacco. ‘I wish it may be sanctified to them.’
The worthy minister of Eastwood received soon after a small piece of comforting information from Orkney. A minister in that archipelago, being one Saturday detained from crossing a ferry to preach next day, was induced to break the Sabbath in order to fulfil his engagement, for which, as ‘scandalous,’ the presbytery processed him. It ‘shews they are stricter there in discipline than we are.’ On the other hand, the College lads at Glasgow, excited by the process of the presbytery and synod against the liberal Professor Simson, went the length of writing a play taking off the city clergy. ‘Matters are come to a sad pass when people begin openly to mock and ridicule gospel ministers; that strikes at the root of all religion!’
Mr Wodrow’s report about the state of religion in the army is contradictory. On one page, we hear a lamentation for some serious Christian officers who had left no successors; on another, there is rejoicing over several still living, of the highest religious practice, as Colonel Blackader, Colonel Erskine, Lieut.-colonel Cunninghame, and Major Gardiner of ‘Stair’s Gray Horse.’ These were all of them men of the strictest morals, and who gave much of their time to religious exercises, Gardiner spending four hours every morning in ‘secret religion.’ Regarding the conversion of this last gentleman, whose fate it was to die on the field of Prestonpans, and to have his life written by Doddridge, Wodrow rather unexpectedly fails to give any trace of the strange tale told by his biographer regarding his conversion, remarking, on the contrary, that the change wrought on him a few years ago was ‘gradual and insensible.’
The treatment of a bad class of insolvents at this period seems to have been considerably different from anything of the kind now in fashion. On this day, according to an Edinburgh newspaper, ‘one George Cowan, a Glasgow merchant, stood in the pillory here, with this inscription on his breast: George Cowan, a notorious fraudulent bankrupt.’
A Society for cultivating historical literature was established in Edinburgh, though not destined to make any great or permanent |1724.| mark on the age. It took its rise among men of Whig professions, and, perhaps, its having party objects in view was mainly what forbade it to acquire stability or perfect any considerable work. At its head is found a man of no small merit as an editor of historical muniments, James Anderson. It included the names of the Rev. George Logan, afterwards noted for his controversies with Ruddiman; Charles M‘Ky, professor of history in the Edinburgh University; and two or three other persons of less note.[590] Mr Wodrow, whose laborious History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland had now been a couple of years before the world, was invited to join. The first business before this Society was to consider what could be done towards a new edition of the works of George Buchanan. These had been published in goodly form by Robert Freebairn in 1715—a credit to the Scottish press in externals, and in the learning of the editor, Thomas Ruddiman; but the Whigs had to regret that the annotations were in a strain sadly out of harmony with that of a democratic author; and hence their desire to see another edition. The Society was now holding meetings once a fortnight for the preparation of such a work, and were even disposed to ask that an edition contemplated in Holland should be delayed till theirs came out, in order that their views should obtain additional circulation;[591] yet it never came to perfection, and the curtain of oblivion soon after falls upon the Historical Society.
Gordon of Glenbucket had been invested by the Duke of Gordon in some lands in Badenoch by virtue of a wadset.[592] The tenants, Macphersons, felt aggrieved at having a new landlord put over them, and refused to pay any rent. Glenbucket consequently raised a process at law for their ejection, a measure which was then as much calculated to engender murderous feelings in Scotland, as it has since been in Ireland.
Five or six of them, young fellows, the sons of gentlemen, including Alexander Macpherson, son of Breakachie; Andrew Macpherson, son of Benchar; and John Macpherson, nephew of Killihuntly, came one evening to Glenbucket’s house, which they entered as seeming friends. He was sickly and under the influence of medicine, and was sitting on his low-framed bedstead, preparing to go to rest. They told him they had come to express their regret for the dispute which had happened—they were now resolved |1724.| to acknowledge him as their landlord, and pay him rent—and they had only to entreat that he would withdraw from the legal proceedings he had entered upon. While addressing him in this manner, they gradually drew close to him, in order to prevent him from defending himself against their contemplated onslaught, for they knew his courage and vigour, and that he was not far from his arms. They then suddenly fell upon him with their dirks, and, having him for the moment at advantage, they gave him many wounds, though none that were deadly. He contrived, amidst the bustle, to lay hold of his broadsword, which lay on the tester of his bed; and thus armed, he soon drove his assassins from the house. Burt, who relates this incident,[593] remarks, with just surprise, that it took place within sight of the barrack at Ruthven.[594]
The young men above named, being believed to be the perpetrators of this crime, were soon after outlawed for failing to attend the summons of the Court of Justiciary. They were so far under terror of the law, that they found it necessary to ‘take to the bent;’ but they nevertheless continued with arms in their hands, and, in company with others who had joined them, lived tolerably well by spulyie committed on the Duke of Gordon’s tenants in Badenoch.
In November 1725, General Wade is found sending a circular to the officers commanding the six Highland companies, ordering them, in compliance with a request from the duke, to use diligence in discovering and taking these outlaws, and any who might harbour them, in order to their being brought to justice. This effort, however, seems to have been attended with no good effect; and in the ensuing July, the duke wrote to the general, expressing his ‘free consent that application be made for taking off the sentence of fugitation’ against six associates of the assassins—namely, |1724.| John Macpherson in Bellachroan; Elias Macpherson in Coraldie; Alexander Macpherson, nephew to Killihuntly; William Macpherson, son to Essick; Donald Macpherson, son to John Oig Macpherson in Muccoul; and Lachlan Macpherson of Laggan, provided they delivered up their arms, and promised to live as obedient subjects to King George in future. His Grace at the same time expressed his opinion, that it was ‘absolutely necessary for the peace of Badenoch’ that the three principals in the attack on Glenbucket should be brought to justice. The general accordingly ordered fresh and vigorous efforts to be made for the apprehension of these persons.[595] We learn from Burt that they were ultimately forced to take refuge in foreign countries.
The people of Edinburgh were regaled with the amusing spectacle of a bank beat through the city, by permission of King George, for recruits to the king of Prussia’s regiment of ultra-tall grenadiers. Two guineas of earnest-money were administered. A local chronicler assures his readers, that ‘those listed are men of such proper size and good countenances, as we need not be ashamed of them in foreign services.’[596] A recruiting for the same regiment is noticed in Edinburgh four years later.
The Rev. Mr J. Anderson, in a letter of this date, gives Mr Wodrow an account of a dumb gentleman, a Mr Gordon, who attracted great attention on account of the knowledge he appeared to have of things not patent to ordinary observation, and with which he had no visible means of becoming acquainted. The powers of clairvoyance occasionally attributed in old times to dumb persons have already been adverted to. Gordon, who was a man of respectable connections, and seventy years of age, a widower with three grown children, and supported chiefly by going about among his friends, had thoroughly excited the wonder of Mr Anderson.
A lady, missing some brandy, asked Mr Gordon who had taken it; ‘upon which he went to the kitchen, and brought up one of the maid-servants, to whom, before her lady, he signed that she had stolen the keys of the cellar and taken it away ... the servant was forced to own all.’
On another occasion, ‘a gauger coming in, whom he had never |1724.| seen before, he signed before the company present what was his business; that he had been a soldier, and how long he had been a gauger in this country, and how long in Fife, and that he had once been suspended, and again reponed, with several other particulars, which astonished the man, who owned all to be truth.’
‘A child of seven years of age engaging one of the company to play with pins at Heads and Points, the person soon got all his pins, the child having no skill to hide them. The lady, the mother of the child, told the person in jest she would win back the child’s pins; and, Gordon drawing near, he still directed her how to lay when the other person was hiding, and she never failed to win till all were got back.... When he gets money from ministers, he very oft signs whether they give it out of their own pocket or out of the poor’s box.... To a minister’s family here he signed, when he came to the house, where he was, and sometimes what he was doing—particularly at a certain hour, if he was shaving; which, upon the minister’s return, he owned to be true.’
Some, adds Mr Anderson, ‘think he has converse with a familiar spirit; and it’s certain that dumb people have frequently been their tools.’[597]
There was profound peace, and the seasons for twelve years past had been favourable; yet we hear at this time of a general poverty in the land, and that, too, from a reporter in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, where, if anywhere, there had been some fruitful industry in consequence of the Union. Mr Wodrow’s statements are, indeed, to be taken with some caution, as his views of national wellbeing are apt to be distorted by his fears regarding changes of religious feeling and practice. Still, the picture he draws must have involved some, though not the whole truth.
He tells that under this peace ‘we are growing much worse. The gentry and nobility are either discontent or Jacobite, or profane; and the people are turning loose, worldly, and very disaffected. The poverty and debts of many are increasing, and I cannot see how it can be otherwise. There are no ways to bring specie into this country. Trade is much failed [the tobacco-trade of the Clyde had temporarily declined under the malignant efforts of the English ports]. Any trade we have is of that kind that takes money from among us, and brings in French brandy, Irish meal [oatmeal was but fourpence a peck], tea, &c. Unless it be |1724.| a few coals from the west [the coal-field of Ayr and Renfrewshires], and some black-cattle from the south [Galloway], and many of these are not our breed, but Irish, I see no branch of our business that brings in any money. The prodigious run of our nobility and gentry to England, their wintering there, and educating their children there ... takes away a vast deal of money every year. It’s plain we are overstocked with people, considering their idleness, and that makes the consumpt very great;’ which ‘will infallibly at length impoverish us. To say nothing of the vast losses many have sustained by the South Sea, York Buildings, our Fishing Company, and other bubbles. The Lord, for our sins, is angry, and frowns upon us, in outwards [i. e., outward circumstances].’[598]
In the district of Galloway (Kirkcudbright and Wigtonshires), where the basis of the population is Celtic, the idleness and consequent poverty of the people was peculiarly great. There was a prodigious number of small tenantry, of very indolent character, and who were accustomed to ‘run out’ or exhaust their land to the last extremity, cropping it two years for one of lea, of course without manure, and being at the same time generally several years behind in their rents. It was a state of things very like what our own advanced age has been fated strangely to see prevalent over large tracts of Ireland and of the Highlands of Scotland—a fearful misapplication and misplacement of human nature, with frightful natural consequences in chronic misery and disorganisation. The landlords, anxious to introduce a better system, began to subdivide and enclose their lands, in order to stock them with black-cattle, and to eject tenants hopelessly sunk in idleness and poverty.
Among those ejected on the estates of Gordon of Earlstoun and the Viscountess Kenmure, were two farmers of better means, whose only fault was that they would not engage for the solvency of their sub-tenantry; and these two now banded together to support each other in keeping possession of their holdings. Others readily came into this covenant. A common sense of suffering, if not wrong, pervading the country, raised up large bands of the miserable people, who, deeming the enclosures a symbol of the antagonist system, began to pull these down wherever they came. ‘Their manner was to appoint a meeting on Tuesday, and continue together till Thursday, and then separate. They prepared |1724.| gavelochs [levers] and other instruments, and did their work most dexterously. Herds and young boys first turned over the head and loose stones; then the women, with the hand and shoulders, turned down the dike; the men came last, and turned up the foundation.’ A band of thirty of the Levellers, as they were ominously called, went to Kirkcudbright, and there published a manifesto, declaring the government of the country to be now in the hands of the tenantry, and ordering all who had any debates to come to them and get them determined.
The gentlemen of the district, irritated, and to some extent alarmed, called in a military force under Lord Crichton and a French Protestant refugee officer, Major Du Carry, to preserve the peace. The lairds of Heron and Murdoch, and Gordon of Earlstoun, were for strong measures; Murray of Broughton and Colonel Maxwell inclined to leniency and persuasion. Seven or eight of the ringleaders being taken up, a sort of fiery cross went through the country on the ensuing day, though a Sunday, ordering the people to assemble at three points for their defence; and a stand was actually made by about thirty against the attack of the troops. One of the gentlemen of the district had a horse wounded under him by a rioter. It seems to have been a fierce and determined encounter on the part of the Levellers; but it ended, as such encounters always end, in the defeat of the insurgent party, of whom sixteen were taken prisoners. As these were being carried away, a mob of women, strong in their weakness and their misery, assailed the soldiers, and one sprang like a wildcat upon a trooper, but only to be trampled under his horse. The soldiers succeeded in lodging their prisoners in Kirkcudbright tolbooth. At the trials which ensued, ‘those who had any funds were fined; some were banished to the plantations; others were imprisoned. A respectable man, of the name of M‘Laherty, who lived in Balmaghie parish ... on his being brought to trial, one of the justices admired a handsome Galloway which he rode, and the justice told him, if he would give him the Galloway, he would effect his acquittal, which he accordingly did.’[599]
These severities brought the levelling system to a close in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright; it was kept up for some time later in Wigtonshire, but gradually died away there also. The country was left in the hands of the gentry and soldiery, without any |1724.| effectual remedy being applied to the evils out of which the dike-breaking had sprung. Herds of miserable people continued going about Galloway, a subject of painful but fruitless compassion to the rest of their countrymen.[600]
A venerable gentleman, just quoted, was able, in 1811, to give the following striking picture of the general manner of living of the Galloway rural population of 1724. ‘The tenants, in general,’ he says, ‘lived very meanly on kail, groats, milk, gradden grinded in querns turned by the hand, and the grain dried in a pot, together with a crock ewe[601] now and then about Martinmas. They were clothed very plainly, and their habitations were most uncomfortable. Their general wear was of cloth, made of waulked plaiding, black and white wool mixed, very coarse, and the cloth rarely dyed. Their hose were made of white plaiding cloth, sewed together, with single-soled shoes, and a black or blue bonnet, none having hats but the lairds, who thought themselves very well dressed for going to church on Sunday with a black kelt-coat of their wife’s making.... The distresses and poverty felt in the country during these times ... continued till about the year 1735. In 1725, potatoes were first introduced into the stewartry [of Kirkcudbright] by William Hyland, from Ireland,[602] who carried them on horses’ backs to Edinburgh, where he sold them by pounds and ounces. During these times, when potatoes were not generally raised in the country, there was for the most part a great scarcity of food, bordering on famine; for in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright and county of Dumfries, there was not as much victual produced as was necessary for supplying the inhabitants; and the chief part of what was required for that purpose was brought from the sand-beds of Esk in tumbling cars, on the Wednesdays, to Dumfries; and when the waters were high by reason of spates—there being no bridges—so that these cars could not come with the meal, I have seen the tradesmen’s wives, in the streets of Dumfries, crying because there was none to be got. At that period there was only one baker in Dumfries, and he made bawbee baps of coarse flour, chiefly bran, which he occasionally carried in creels to the fairs of Urr and Kirkpatrick. The produce of the country in general was gray corn, and you might have travelled from Dumfries to Kirkcudbright, which is twenty-seven miles, without seeing any other grain, except in a gentleman’s |1724.| croft, which, in general, produced bear or bigg for one-third part, another third in white oats, and the remaining third in gray oats. At that period there was no wheat raised in the country: what was used was brought from Teviot; and it was believed that the soil would not produce wheat.... Cattle were very low. I remember being present at the Bridge-end of Dumfries in 1736, when Anthony M‘Kie, of Netherlaw, sold five score of five-year-old Galloway cattle in good condition to an Englishman at £2, 12s. 6d. each; and old Robert Halliday, who was tenant of a great part of the Preston estate, told me that he reckoned he could graze his cattle on his farms for 2s. 6d. a head—that is to say, his rent corresponded to that sum.’[603]
Allan Ramsay, in some jocular verses, compliments Mr David Drummond, advocate, for the victory he this day gained as an archer, in ‘shooting for the bowl’ at Musselburgh. The old gentleman had gained the prize of the silver arrow exactly fifty years before. These trivial facts suggest the existence of what was called a Royal Company of Archers all through the reigns of Anne and the first George, a sodality composed almost exclusively of the Jacobite aristocracy, and, in fact, a sort of masked muster for the cause of the exiled Stuart. Besides private convivial meetings, where doubtless much enigmatical affection for the old line of princes found vent, there was an annual meeting for a shooting-match, attended by a showy procession through the streets of Edinburgh, in order to impress the public with an idea of their numbers, and the rank and influence of the members. They had their captain-general, usually a nobleman of the highest rank; their first and second lieutenant-generals, their adjutant, and other officers; their colours, music, and uniforms; in short, a pretty effective military organisation and appearance. The dress, which they innocently believed to be after the ancient Roman model, was of tartan trimmed with green silk fringe, with a blue bonnet trimmed with green and white ribbons, and the badge of St Andrew in the front; their bows and swords hung with green and white ribbons; the officers being further distinguished by having the dress laid over with silver lace. The cavalier spirit of Allan Ramsay glowed at seeing these elegant specimens of the Aristoi of Scotland engaged at butts and rovers, and often poured itself forth in verses to their praise. Pitcairn, |1724.| Sir William Bennet of Grubbet, and Sir William Scott of Thirlstain, were equally ready to celebrate in Latin sapphics their contentions for the bowl and silver arrow at Musselburgh—drolly translated Conchipolis in their verses. There was a constant and obvious wish on the part of the society to look as ‘braid’[604] as possible, and so let the world slily understand how many men of mark were in their hearts favourable to the still hoped for restoration.
The Royal Company had a particularly ostentatious parade in Edinburgh on the 10th of July 1732. Having assembled in the Parliament Square, a party of thirty-six was despatched under the Earl of Wemyss to the Duke of Hamilton’s lodging in Holyrood, to bring up the standard, on which, besides other insignia, was depicted the national lion ramping in gold, with the significant motto, ‘Pro patria dulce periculum.’ They then marched through the city to the Links in the following order, as described by a sympathising contemporary record:
‘The Duke of Hamilton, captain-general, preceded by the Lord Bruce on horseback, with fine Turkish furniture, who acted as major-general in absence of the Earl of Crawford; next, the music, consisting of trumpets, hautboys, cors-de-chasse, alternately playing the proper march of the company, and answered by nine drums (all in the company’s livery), and they again by the music-bells. Mr David Drummond, advocate, president of the council; Sir Archibald Primrose of Dunipace, and William Sinclair of Roslin, brigadiers, at the head of the first brigade. My Lord Viscount Oxford, brigadier, marched up the second brigade; my Lord Kinnaird, brigadier, the third; George Lockhart of Carnwath, brigadier, the fourth. The Earl of Wigton, second lieutenant-general, before the colours, which were carried by the Earl of Cassillis; and the Lord Rollo, supported by the Earl of Kilmarnock, and Master Thomas Lyon, brigadiers, led up the centre brigade; David Smith of Methven, brigadier, the sixth brigade; Sir Robert Stewart of Tillicultry, brigade the seventh; the eighth and last brigade by the Lord Cranston, brigadier, followed up by James Hepburn of Keith, and the Lord Gairlies, brigadiers, and closed in the rear by the Earl of Wemyss, first lieutenant-general; Colonel John Stewart, brother to Grantully, and Arthur Forbes of Pittencrief, acting as adjutants-general, on horseback, on the wings of the several brigades.
‘In front of all marched the several decked horses, and other equipage, &c., of the several officers, which, being very rich and magnificent, made a very fine show; and after them, the silver arrow, carried by the company’s officer.
‘There was on this occasion an infinite crowd of spectators, who came from all quarters to see this splendid appearance, and who expressed their satisfaction by loud acclamations.
‘The lord provost and magistrates saw the procession from a window, and were saluted by the several officers, as did General Wade from a balcony in the Earl of Murray’s lodgings. The governor of Damascus came likewise to see the ceremony. Betwixt one and two o’clock, the company arrived in the Links, whence, after shooting for the arrow (which was won by Mr Balfour of Forret), they marched into Leith in the same order; and after dinner, returned to the city, and saw acted the tragedy called Macbeath.’[605]
It is very sad to reflect how the Earl of Kilmarnock and some others of this noble company came to ruin a few years after by carrying the play a little too far.
The magistrates of Edinburgh issued an edict proceeding upon a recital that disturbances have arisen, and may further arise, from gentlemen carrying firearms, and their servants wearing dirks and broadswords, in the streets, a practice ‘contrary to the rules of decency and good order;’ wherefore it was now strictly forbidden.[606] It is to be remarked that in this prohibition there is no notice taken of the swords worn by gentlemen.
The danger arising to the government from having a rude people of disaffected sentiments and hardy warlike character seated in the north-west parts of Scotland, was now brought before it with sufficient urgency to cause the adoption of remedial measures. An effectual disarming act, the raising of armed companies in the pay of the government, the completion of a line of forts, and the formation of roads by which these should be accessible and the benefits of civilisation imparted to the country, were the chief means looked to for doing away with the Highland difficulty. A sensible English officer, General George Wade, was sent down to act as commander-in-chief of the troops in Scotland, and carry these measures into effect.
If we may believe a statement which there is all reason to believe except one—the character of its author, who was no other than Simon Lord Lovat—it was high time that something was done to enforce the laws in the Highlands. In William’s reign, there had been an armed watch and a severe justiciary commission; but they had long been given up; so, after a temporary lull, things had returned to their usual course. The garrisons at Fort William, Killicummin, and Inverness proved ineffectual to restrain the system of spoliation, or to put down a robbers’ tax called black-mail [nefarious rent], which many paid in the hope of protection.
The method by which the country was brought under this tax is thus stated: ‘When the people are almost ruined by continual robberies and plunders, the leader of the band of thieves, or some friend of his, proposes that for a sum of money to be annually paid, he will press a number of men in arms to protect such a tract of ground, or as many parishes as submit to pay the contribution. When the contributions are paid, he ceases to steal, and thereby the contributors are safe. If he refuse to pay, he is immediately plundered. To colour all this villainy, those concerned in the robberies pay the tax with the rest, and all the neighbourhood must comply, or be undone.’[607] Black-mail naturally prevailed in a marked manner in fertile lowland districts adjacent to the Highlands, as Easter Ross, Moray, and the Lennox.
Directly with a view to the prevention of robberies, and the suppression of this frightful impost, the government established six companies of native soldiery, selected from clans presumedly loyal, and respectively commanded by Lord Lovat, Sir Duncan Campbell of Lochnell, Colonel Grant of Ballandalloch, Colonel Alexander Campbell of Finab, John Campbell of Carrick, and George Monro of Culcairn. The whole, consisting of four hundred and eighty men, were dressed in plain dark-coloured tartan, and hence were called the Reicudan Dhu, or Black Watch. Burt reports an allegation, that one of the commanders [Lord Lovat?] used to strip his tenants of their best plaids, wherewith to invest his men at a review. On the other hand, there were men of such birth and breeding in the corps, that they had gillies to do drudgery for them. They were posted in small parties throughout the more lawless parts of the country, and are represented as having been reasonably effective for their purpose.
For the disarming of the disaffected clans, Wade had his six native companies and four hundred troops of the line ready at Inverness to proceed with the work in June 1725; but the riot about the malt-tax at Glasgow delayed his measures, and it was not till the 10th of August that he marched in force towards the rendezvous of the Mackenzies at Brahan Castle. The heads of the clan saw it to be necessary to obey, or to appear to obey, and also to promise that in future the rents of their chief, the forfeited Earl of Seaforth, should be paid to the state, instead of to Donald Murchison. The general on his part allowed them to understand that, very probably, if they made this submission, their chief would be pardoned and restored. One little concession they had to ask from the English general—let him spare them the humiliation of delivering their arms in the presence of the Reicudan Dhu. To this the general consented. He sent the native loyalists to guard the passes to the westward.
It must have been a solemn and interesting sight to an English officer of impressionable feelings, if such a being then existed, when the troops took up their position in front of that grand old Highland fortress, amidst scenery of the most magnificent kind, to receive the submission of a high-spirited people, who had resisted as long as resistance was possible. First came the gentlemen or duine-wassels, about fifty in number, to pay their respects to the general. Then followed in slow procession along the great avenue, the body of the clansmen, in parishes, forty or fifty in each, marching four and four, and bringing their arms on horses. On arriving in front of the house, they unloaded and deposited the weapons, drank the king’s health, and slowly turned away.[608] ‘The chiefs of the several tribes, and other principal gentlemen of the country, dined the same day with the general, and great civilities and mutual assurances of good offices passed on both sides. They promised the general that the rents of the estate should be punctually paid to the crown, for the use of the public, and a dutiful submission [rendered] to his majesty’s government.’[609] Weapons to the number of 784 were given in; but in reality they were only the oldest and most worn of the arms possessed by this great clan. Donald Murchison had taken |1724.| care previously to gather up all their best arms into some central store unknown to the government.[610]
Following this example, and partly, it is alleged, induced by little favours extended or promised by the general, the rest of the Jacobite clans, the Macdonalds, Camerons, Macleods, &c., made an appearance of surrendering their arms at various appointed stations during the autumn. The entire number of articles given in was 2685. The total expense of the collection was about £2000, and the general gives us an idea of the true state of the case, beyond what he possessed himself, when he tells us that the articles for the most part were worth little more than the price of old iron.
General Wade received submissive letters from many of the chiefs and others who had been in the insurrection of 1715, all professing anxiety for pardon, and promising a quiet life in future. There was none more submissive than one from Rob Roy, who contrived to make it appear that his treason was against his will. ‘It was my misfortune,’ says he, ‘at the time the Rebellion broke out, to be liable to legal diligence and caption, at the Duke of Montrose’s instance, for debt alleged due to him. To avoid being flung into prison, as I must certainly have been, had I followed my real inclinations in joining the king’s troops at Stirling, I was forced to take party with the adherents of the Pretender; for the country being all in arms, it was neither safe nor possible for me to stand neuter.’ Of course, this was meant by Rob as merely a civil apology for deliberate rebellion. To give it confirmation, he told the general: ‘I not only avoided acting offensively against his majesty’s forces upon all occasions, but, on the contrary, sent his Grace the Duke of Argyle all the intelligence I could from time to time, of the situation and strength of the rebels; which I hope his Grace will do me the justice to acknowledge.’ It is to be hoped that Rob was not here so dishonest as to speak the truth. There is ample reason to believe that the frank English general was imposed upon by the professions made by the Jacobite chiefs, for he reported to government that disaffection was much abated, and interested himself zealously for the pardon of several of the attainted gentlemen.
A poor woman named Margaret Dickson, an inhabitant of the parish of Inveresk, was tried under the act of 1690 for concealment |1724.| of pregnancy in the case of a dead child. A defence was made for her that she was a married woman, though living separate from her husband; but it was of no avail. |Sep. 2.| A broadside—which proceeds upon a strong approval of the text, that ‘the works of God are works of wonder, and his ways past finding out’—gives a minute recital of the circumstances of her execution in the Grassmarket; how the hangman did his usual office of pulling down her legs; and how the body, having hung the usual time, was taken down and put into a coffin, the cooms of which were nailed fast at the gibbet-foot. It then proceeds. ‘Being put into a cart, to transport her corpse to be interred in the churchyard of Inveresk, whither the magistrates had allowed her friends to carry her, there happened a scuffle betwixt her friends and some surgeon-apprentices and others, their accomplices, on this side of the Society Port. One, with a hammer, broke down one of the sides of the cooms of the chest; which, having given some air, and, together with the jolting of the cart, set the blood and vitals agoing. The people intrusted with transporting her body having stopped at Peffermill to take a refreshment, and left her upon a cart in the highway, two joiners, from curiosity, came from a house to view the coffin, and, to their surprise, heard a noise within. Acquainting the persons concerned, they proposed to open the other side of the cooms of the chest, which, after some opposition, was agreed to. The coom being taken off, they perceived her to draw up her limbs. One Peter Purdie, a practitioner of phlebotomy, providentially breathed a vein, from which streamed blood, which recovered her so far, that twice she said: “O dear!” Being brought to her feet, she was supported by two to a brae-side, where the blood returned to her lips and cheeks, which promised a sudden recovery. Being laid upon blankets in a corn-cart, her head and body upheld by a woman, she was driven to Musselburgh, where she remained, at the magistrates’ command, all night; had restoratives and means of sustenance given her; was visited by Mr Robert Bonally, one of the ministers of that place, who prayed over her; and next morning was laid in a bed in her brother James Dickson, weaver, his house, whither a great many flock every day to see her, and not a few gave her money. She had little appearance of recovering her health or senses next day, and cried out to let her be gone, for she was to be executed on Wednesday, but is now pretty well—only complains of a pain in her neck. She went to church on Sunday last, and heard sermon, where the people were so anxious to see her, |1724.| that the minister was obliged to conduct her out of the churchyard to keep her from being trodden down by the multitude. She still remains in a hopeful way of recovering strength and judgment. May this amazing dispensation of Providence be sanctioned to her, and teach all who shall hear it to act a needy dependence upon, and live to the glory of God, to whom belong the issues of life and death!’[611]
Another brief chronicler of the time informs us, that Maggie devoted the Wednesday ensuing upon that on which she was executed to solemn fasting and prayer, in gratitude for her deliverance, and had formed the resolution so to employ each recurring Wednesday during the remainder of her life.[612] It is also stated that her husband, struck with a forgiving interest in her, took her ultimately back to his house. She lived to have several children creditably born, and cried salt for many a day through the streets of Edinburgh, universally recognised and constantly pointed out to strangers as ‘Half-hangit Maggie Dickson.’
At the village of Gilmerton, four miles to the south of Edinburgh, the soft, workable character of the sandstone of the carboniferous formation, there cropping to the surface, tempted a blacksmith named George Paterson to an enterprise of so extraordinary a character, as to invest his name with distinction in both prose and rhyme. In the little garden at the end of his house, he excavated for himself a dwelling in the rock, composed of several apartments. Besides a smithy, with a fireplace or forge, there were—a dining-room, fourteen and a half feet long, seven broad, and six feet high, furnished with a bench all round, a table, and a bed-recess; a drinking-parlour, rather larger; a kitchen and bed-place for the maid; a liquor-cellar upwards of seven feet long; and a washing-house. In each apartment there was a skylight-window, and the whole were properly drained. The work cost the poor man five years of hard labour, being finished in the present year. Alexander Pennecuik, the burgess-bard of Edinburgh, furnished an inscription, which was carved on a stone at the entrance:
‘Here is a House and Shop Hewn in this Rock with my own Hands.