in regard to the supper system when it was the normal condition of
society. The late dining hours may make the social circle more formal,
but they have been far less favourable to drinking propensities. After
such dinners as ours are now, suppers are clearly out of the question.
One is astonished to look back and recall the scenes to which were
attached associations of hilarity, conviviality, and enjoyment. Drinking
parties were protracted beyond the whole Sunday, having begun by a
dinner on Saturday; imbecility and prostrate helplessness were a common
result of these bright and jovial scenes; and by what perversion of
language, or by what obliquity of sentiment, the notions of pleasure
could be attached to scenes of such excess--to the nausea, the disgust
of sated appetite, and the racking headache--it is not easy to explain.
There were men of heads so hard, and of stomachs so insensible, that,
like my friend Saunders Paul, they could stand anything in the way of
drink. But to men in general, and to the more delicate constitutions,
such a life must have been a cause of great misery. To a certain extent,
and up to a certain point, wine may be a refreshment and a wholesome
stimulant; nay, it is a medicine, and a valuable one, and as such, comes
recommended on fitting occasions by the physician. _Beyond_ this point,
as sanctioned and approved by nature, the use of wine is only
degradation. Well did the sacred writer call wine, when thus taken in
excess, "a mocker." It makes all men equal, because it makes them all
idiotic. It allures them into a vicious indulgence, and then mocks their
folly, by depriving them of any sense they may ever have possessed.
It has, I fear, been injurious to the cause of temperance, that emotions
of true friendship, and the outpouring of human affections, should so
frequently be connected with the obligation that the parties should _get
drunk together_. Drunkenness is thus made to hold too close an
association in men's minds with some of the best and finest feelings of
their nature.
"Friend of my soul, this goblet sip,"
is the constant acknowledged strain of poetical friendship: our own
Robert Burns calls upon the dear companion of his early happy days, with
whom he had "paidl't i' the burn, frae mornin' sun till dine," and
between whom "braid seas had roar'd sin auld lang syne," to commemorate
their union of heart and spirit, and to welcome their meeting after
years of separation, by each one joining his pint-stoup, and by each
taking a mutual "richt guid willie-waught," in honour of the innocent
and happy times of "auld lang syne." David marks his recognition of
friendship by tokens of a different character--"We took sweet counsel
together, and walked _in the house of God_ as friends."--Ps. lv. 14.
Reference has already been made to Lord Hermand's opinion of drinking,
and to the high estimation in which he held a staunch drinker, according
to the testimony of Lord Cockburn, There is a remarkable corroboration
of this opinion in a current anecdote which is traditionary regarding
the same learned judge. A case of some great offence was tried before
him, and the counsel pleaded extenuation for his client in that he was
_drunk_ when he committed the offence. "Drunk!" exclaimed Lord Hermand,
in great indignation; "if he could do such a thing when he was drunk,
what might he not have done when he was _sober!_" evidently implying
that the normal condition of human nature, and its most hopeful one, was
a condition of intoxication.
Of the prevalence of hard drinking in certain houses as a system, a
remarkable proof is given at page 102. The following anecdote still
further illustrates the subject, and corresponds exactly with the story
of the "loosing the cravats," which was performed for guests in a state
of helpless inebriety by one of the household. There had been a
carousing party at Castle Grant, many years ago, and as the evening
advanced towards morning two Highlanders were in attendance to carry the
guests up stairs, it being understood that none could by any other means
arrive at their sleeping apartments. One or two of the guests, however,
whether from their abstinence or their superior strength of head, were
walking up stairs, and declined the proffered assistance. The attendants
were quite astonished, and indignantly exclaimed, "Agh, it's sare
cheenged times at Castle Grant, when shentlemens can gang to bed on
their ain feet."
There was a practice in many Scottish houses which favoured most
injuriously the national tendency to spirit-drinking, and that was a
foolish and inconsiderate custom of offering a glass on all occasions as
a mark of kindness or hospitality. I mention the custom only for the
purpose of offering a remonstrance. It should never be done. Even now, I
am assured, small jobs (carpenters' or blacksmiths', or such like) are
constantly remunerated in the West Highlands of Scotland--and doubtless
in many other parts of the country--not by a pecuniary payment, but by a
_dram_; if the said dram be taken from a _speerit_-decanter out of the
family press or cupboard, the compliment is esteemed the greater, and
the offering doubly valued.
A very amusing dialogue between a landlord and his tenant on this
question of the dram has been sent to me. John Colquhoun, an aged
Dumbartonshire tenant, is asked by his laird on Lochlomond side, to stay
a minute till he _tastes_. "Now, John," says the laird. "Only half a
glass, Camstraddale," meekly pleads John. "Which half?" rejoins the
laird, "the upper or the lower?" John grins, and turns off _both_--_the
upper and lower_ too.
The upper and lower portions of the glass furnish another drinking
anecdote. A very greedy old lady employed another John Colquhoun to cut
the grass upon the lawn, and enjoined him to cut it very close, adding,
as a reason for the injunction, that one inch at the bottom was worth
two at the top. Having finished his work much to her satisfaction, the
old lady got out the whisky-bottle and a tapering wineglass, which she
filled about half full; John suggested that it would be better to fill
it up, slily adding, "Fill it up, mem, for it's no like the gress; an
inch at the tap's worth twa at the boddom."
But the most whimsical anecdote connected with the subject of drink, is
one traditionary in the south of Scotland, regarding an old Gallovidian
lady disclaiming more drink under the following circumstances:--The old
generation of Galloway lairds were a primitive and hospitable race, but
their conviviality sometimes led to awkward occurrences. In former days,
when roads were bad and wheeled vehicles almost unknown, an old laird
was returning from a supper party, with his lady mounted behind him on
horseback. On crossing the river Urr, at a ford at a point where it
joins the sea, the old lady dropped off, but was not missed till her
husband reached his door, when, of course, there was an immediate search
made. The party who were despatched in quest of her arrived just in time
to find her remonstrating with the advancing tide, which trickled into
her mouth, in these words, "No anither drap; neither het nor cauld."
A lady, on one occasion, offering a dram to a porter in a rather small
glass, said, "Take it off; it will do you no harm," on which the man,
looking at the diminutive glass, observed, "Harm! Na, gin it were
poushon" (poison).
I would now introduce, as a perfect illustration of this portion of our
subject, two descriptions of clergymen, well known men in their day,
which are taken from Dr. Carlyle's work, already referred to. Of Dr.
Alexander Webster, a clergyman, and one of his contemporaries, he writes
thus:--"Webster, leader of the high-flying party, had justly obtained
much respect amongst the clergy, and all ranks indeed, for having
established the Widows' Fund.... His appearance of great strictness in
religion, to which he was bred under his father, who was a very popular
minister of the Tolbooth Church, not acting in restraint of his
convivial humour, he was held to be excellent company even by those of
dissolute manners; while, being a five-bottle man, he could lay them all
under the table. This had brought on him the nickname of Dr. Bonum
Magnum in the time of faction. But never being indecently the worse of
liquor, and a love of claret, to any degree, not being reckoned in those
days a sin in Scotland, all his excesses were pardoned."
Dr. Patrick Cumming, also a clergyman and a contemporary, he describes
in the following terms:--"Dr. Patrick Cumming was, at this time (1751),
at the head of the moderate interest, and had his temper been equal to
his talents, might have kept it long, for he had both learning and
sagacity, and very agreeable conversation, _with a constitution able to
bear the conviviality of the times._"
Now, of all the anecdotes and facts which I have collected, or of all
which I have ever heard to illustrate the state of Scottish society in
the past times, as regards its habits of intemperance, this assuredly
surpasses them all.--Of two well-known, distinguished, and leading
clergymen in the middle of the eighteenth century, one who had "obtained
much respect," and "had the appearance of great strictness in religion,"
is described as an enormous drinker of claret; the other, an able leader
of a powerful section in the church, is described as _owing_ his
influence to his power of meeting the conviviality of the times. Suppose
for a moment a future biographer should write in this strain of eminent
divines, and should apply to distinguished members of the Scottish
Church in 1863 such description as the following:--"Dr. ---- was a man
who took a leading part in all church affairs at this time, and was much
looked up to by the evangelical section of the General Assembly; he
could always carry off without difficulty his five bottles of claret.
Dr. ---- had great influence in society, and led the opposite party in
the General Assembly, as he could take his place in all companies, and
drink on fair terms at the most convivial tables!!" Why, this seems to
us so monstrous, that we can scarcely believe Dr. Carlyle's account of
matters in his day to be possible.
There is a story which illustrates, with terrible force, the power
which drinking had obtained in Scottish social life. I have been
deterred from bringing it forward, as too shocking for production. But
as the story is pretty well known, and its truth vouched for on high
authority, I venture to give it, as affording a proof that, in those
days, no consideration, not even the most awful that affects human
nature, could be made to outweigh the claims of a determined
conviviality. It may, I think, be mentioned also, in the way of warning
men generally against the hardening and demoralising effects of habitual
drunkenness. The story is this:--At a prolonged drinking bout, one of
the party remarked, "What gars the laird of Garskadden look sae
gash[39]?" "Ou," says his neighbour, the laird of Kilmardinny, "deil
meane him! Garskadden's been wi' his Maker these twa hours; I saw him
step awa, but I didna like to disturb gude company[40]!"
Before closing this subject of excess in _drinking_, I may refer to
another indulgence in which our countrymen are generally supposed to
partake more largely than their neighbours:--I mean snuff-taking. The
popular southern ideas of a Scotchman and his snuff-box are inseparable.
Smoking does not appear to have been practised more in Scotland than in
England, and if Scotchmen are sometimes intemperate in the use of snuff,
it is certainly a more innocent excess than intemperance in whisky. I
recollect, amongst the common people in the north, a mode of taking
snuff which showed a determination to make the _most_ of it, and which
indicated somewhat of intemperance in the enjoyment; this was to receive
it not through a pinch between the fingers, but through a quill or
little bone ladle, which forced it up the nose. But, besides smoking and
snuffing, I have a reminiscence of a _third_ use of tobacco, which I
apprehend is now quite obsolete. Some of my readers will be surprised
when I name this forgotten luxury. It was called _plugging_, and
consisted _(horresco referens_) in poking a piece of pigtail tobacco
right into the nostril. I remember this distinctly; and now, at a
distance of more than sixty years, I recall my utter astonishment as a
boy, at seeing my grand-uncle, with whom I lived in early days, put a
thin piece of tobacco fairly up his nose. I suppose the plug acted as a
continued stimulant on the olfactory nerve, and was, in short, like
taking a perpetual pinch of snuff.
The inveterate snuff-taker, like the dram-drinker, felt severely the
being deprived of his accustomed stimulant, as in the following
instance:--A severe snow-storm in the Highlands, which lasted for
several weeks, having stopped all communication betwixt neighbouring
hamlets, the snuff-boxes were soon reduced to their last pinch.
Borrowing and begging from all the neighbours within reach were first
resorted to, but when these failed, all were alike reduced to the
longing which unwillingly-abstinent snuff-takers alone know. The
minister of the parish was amongst the unhappy number; the craving was
so intense that study was out of the question, and he became quite
restless. As a last resort the beadle was despatched, through the snow,
to a neighbouring glen, in the hope of getting a supply; but he came
back as unsuccessful as he went. "What's to be dune, John?" was the
minister's pathetic inquiry. John shook his head, as much as to say that
he could not tell; but immediately thereafter started up, as if a new
idea had occurred to him. He came back in a few minutes, crying, "Hae!"
The minister, too eager to be scrutinising, took a long, deep pinch, and
then said, "Whaur did you get it?" "I soupit[41] the poupit," was John's
expressive reply. The minister's accumulated superfluous Sabbath snuff
now came into good use.
It does not appear that at this time a similar excess in _eating_
accompanied this prevalent tendency to excess in drinking. Scottish
tables were at that period plain and abundant, but epicurism or gluttony
do not seem to have been handmaids to drunkenness. A humorous anecdote,
however, of a full-eating laird, may well accompany those which
appertain to the _drinking_ lairds.--A lady in the north having watched
the proceedings of a guest, who ate long and largely, she ordered the
servant to take away, as he had at last laid down his knife and fork. To
her surprise, however, he resumed his work, and she apologised to him,
saying, "I thought, Mr. ----, you had done."
"Oh, so I had, mem; but I just fan' a doo in the _redd_ o' my plate." He
had discovered a pigeon lurking amongst the bones and refuse of his
plate, and could not resist finishing it.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Distinguished examples of these are to be found in the Old
Greyfriars' Church, Edinburgh, and in the Cathedral of Glasgow; to say
nothing of the beautiful specimens in St. John's Episcopal Church,
Edinburgh.
[20] "This was a square enclosure in the Greyfriars' Churchyard, guarded
on one side by a veteran angel without a nose, and having only one wing,
who had the merit of having maintained his post for a century, while his
comrade cherub, who had stood sentinel on the corresponding pedestal,
lay a broken trunk, among the hemlock, burdock, and nettles, which grew
in gigantic luxuriance around the walls of the mausoleum."
[21] A Shetland pony.
[22] The Lord's Supper.
[23] Bullock.
[24] Perhaps.
[25] Carefully selected.
[26] I recollect an old Scottish gentleman, who shared this horror,
asking very gravely, "Were not swine forbidden under the law, and cursed
under the gospel?"
[27] Lie in a grovelling attitude. See Jamieson.
[28] So pronounced in Aberdeen.
[29] Implying that there was a James Third of England, Eighth of
Scotland.
[30] Old Scotch for "drink hard".
[31] A friend learned in Scottish history suggests an ingenious remark,
that this might mean more than a mere _full drinker_. To drink "fair,"
used to imply that the person drank in the same proportion as the
company; to drink more would be unmannerly; to drink less might imply
some unfair motive. Either interpretation shows the importance attached
to drinking and all that concerned it.
[32] In Burt's _Letters from the North of Scotland_, written about 1730,
similar scenes are related as occurring in Culloden House: as the
company were disabled by drink, two servants in waiting took up the
invalids with short poles in their chairs as they sat (if not fallen
down), and carried them off to their beds.
[33] Lord Cockburn's _Memorials of his Time_, p. 37, _et seq_.
[34] May we never be cast down by adversity, or unduly elevated by
prosperity.
[35] A toast at parting or breaking up of the party.
[36] Loving
[37] Plenty
[38] Toast for agricultural dinners
[39] Ghastly.
[40] The scene is described and place mentioned in Dr. Strang's account
of Glasgow Clubs, p. 104, 2d edit.
[41] Swept.
CHAPTER THE FOURTH.
ON THE OLD SCOTTISH DOMESTIC SERVANT.
I come now to a subject on which a great change has taken place in this
country during my own experience--viz. those peculiarities of
intercourse which some years back marked the connection between masters
and servants. In many Scottish houses a great familiarity prevailed
between members of the family and the domestics. For this many reasons
might have been assigned. Indeed, when we consider the simple modes of
life, which discarded the ideas of ceremony or etiquette; the retired
and uniform style of living, which afforded few opportunities for any
change in the domestic arrangements; and when we add to these a free,
unrestrained, unformal, and natural style of intercommunion, which seems
rather a national characteristic, we need not be surprised to find in
quiet Scottish families a sort of intercourse with old domestics which
can hardly be looked for at a time when habits are so changed, and where
much of the quiet eccentricity belonging to us as a national
characteristic is almost necessarily softened down or driven out. Many
circumstances conspired to promote familiarity with old domestics, which
are now entirely changed. We take the case of a domestic coming early
into service, and passing year after year in the same family. The
servant grows up into old age and confirmed habits when the laird is
becoming a man, a husband, father of a family. The domestic cannot
forget the days when his master was a child, riding on his back,
applying to him for help in difficulties about his fishing, his rabbits,
his pony, his going to school. All the family know how attached he is;
nobody likes to speak harshly to him. He is a privileged man. The
faithful old servant of thirty, forty, or fifty years, if with a
tendency to be jealous, cross, and interfering, becomes a great trouble.
Still the relative position was the result of good feelings. If the
familiarity sometimes became a nuisance, it was a wholesome nuisance,
and relic of a simpler time gone by. But the case of the old servant,
whether agreeable or troublesome, was often so fixed and established in
the households of past days, that there was scarce a possibility of
getting away from it. The well-known story of the answer of one of these
domestic tyrants to the irritated master, who was making an effort to
free himself from the thraldom, shows the idea entertained, by _one_ of
the parties at least, of the permanency of the tenure. I am assured by a
friend that the true edition of the story was this:--An old Mr. Erskine
of Dun had one of these retainers, under whose language and unreasonable
assumption he had long groaned. He had almost determined to bear it no
longer, when, walking out with his man, on crossing a field, the master
exclaimed, "There's a hare." Andrew looked at the place, and coolly
replied, "What a big lee, it's a cauff." The master, quite angry now,
plainly told the old domestic that they _must_ part. But the tried
servant of forty years, not dreaming of the possibility of _his_
dismissal, innocently asked, "Ay, sir; whare ye gaun? I'm sure ye're aye
best at hame;" supposing that, if there were to be any disruption, it
must be the master who would change the place. An example of a similar
fixedness of tenure in an old servant was afforded in an anecdote
related of an old coachman long in the service of a noble lady, and who
gave all the trouble and annoyance which he conceived were the
privileges of his position in the family. At last the lady fairly gave
him notice to quit, and told him he must go. The only satisfaction she
got was the quiet answer, "Na, na, my lady; I druve ye to your marriage,
and I shall stay to drive ye to your burial." Indeed, we have heard of a
still stronger assertion of his official position by one who met an
order to quit his master's service by the cool reply, "Na, na; I'm no
gangin'. If ye dinna ken whan ye've a gude servant; I ken whan I've a
gude place."
It is but fair, however, to give an anecdote in which the master and the
servant's position was _reversed_, in regard to a wish for change:--An
old servant of a relation of my own with an ungovernable temper, became
at last so weary of his master's irascibility, that he declared he must
leave, and gave as his reason the fits of anger which came on, and
produced such great annoyance that he could not stand it any longer. His
master, unwilling to lose him, tried to coax him by reminding him that
the anger was soon off. "Ay," replied the other very shrewdly, "but it's
nae suner aff than it's on again." I remember well an old servant of the
old school, who had been fifty years domesticated in a family. Indeed I
well remember the celebration of the half-century service completed.
There were rich scenes with Sandy and his mistress. Let me recall you
both to memory. Let me think of you, the kind, generous, warm-hearted
mistress; a gentlewoman by descent and by feeling; a true friend, a
sincere Christian. And let me think, too, of you, Sandy, an honest,
faithful, and attached member of the family. For you were in that house
rather as a humble friend than a servant. But out of this fifty years of
attached service there sprang a sort of domestic relation and freedom of
intercourse which would surprise people in these days. And yet Sandy
knew his place. Like Corporal Trim, who, although so familiar and
admitted to so much familiarity with my Uncle Toby, never failed in the
respectful address--never forgot to say "your honour." At a dinner party
Sandy was very active about changing his mistress's plate, and whipped
it off when he saw that she had got a piece of rich paté upon it. His
mistress, not liking such rapid movements, and at the same time knowing
that remonstrance was in vain, exclaimed, "Hout, Sandy, I'm no dune,"
and dabbed her fork into the "pattee" as it disappeared, to rescue a
morsel. I remember her praise of English mutton was a great annoyance to
the Scottish prejudices of Sandy. One day she was telling me of a
triumph Sandy had upon that subject. The smell of the joint roasting had
become very offensive through the house. The lady called out to Sandy to
have the doors closed, and added, "That must be some horrid Scotch
mutton you have got." To Sandy's delight, this was a leg of _English_
mutton his mistress had expressly chosen; and, as she significantly told
me, "Sandy never let that down upon me." On Deeside there existed, in my
recollection, besides the Saunders Paul I have alluded to, a number of
extraordinary acute and humorous Scottish characters amongst the lower
classes. The native gentry enjoyed their humour, and hence arose a
familiarity of intercourse which called forth many amusing scenes and
quaint rejoinders. A celebrated character of this description bore the
soubriquet of "Boaty," of whom I have already spoken. He had acted as
Charon of the Dee at Banchory, and passed the boat over the river before
there was a bridge. Boaty had many curious sayings recorded of him. When
speaking of the gentry around, he characterised them according to their
occupations and activity of habits--thus:--"As to Mr. Russell of
Blackha', he just works himsell like a paid labourer; Mr. Duncan's a'
the day fish, fish; but Sir Robert's a perfect gentleman--he does
naething, naething." Boaty was a first-rate salmon-fisher himself, and
was much sought after by amateurs who came to Banchory for the sake of
the sport afforded by the beautiful Dee. He was, perhaps, a little
spoiled, and presumed upon the indulgence and familiarity shown to him
in the way of his craft--as, for example, he was in attendance with his
boat on a sportsman who was both skilful and successful, for he caught
salmon after salmon. Between each fish catching he solaced himself with
a good pull from a flask, which he returned to his pocket, however,
without offering to let Boaty have any participation in the refreshment.
Boaty, partly a little professionally jealous, perhaps, at the success,
and partly indignant at receiving less than his usual attention on such
occasions, and seeing no prospect of amendment, deliberately pulled the
boat to shore, shouldered the oars, rods, landing-nets, and all the
fishing apparatus which he had provided, and set off homewards. His
companion, far from considering his day's work to be over, and keen for
more sport, was amazed, and peremptorily ordered him to come back. But
all the answer made by the offended Boaty was, "Na na; them 'at drink by
themsells may just fish by themsells."
The charge these old domestics used to take of the interests of the
family, and the cool way in which they took upon them to protect those
interests, sometimes led to very provoking, and sometimes to very
ludicrous, exhibitions of importance. A friend told me of a dinner scene
illustrative of this sort of interference which had happened at Airth in
the last generation. Mrs. Murray, of Abercairney, had been amongst the
guests, and at dinner one of the family noticed that she was looking for
the proper spoon to help herself with salt. The old servant, Thomas, was
appealed to, that the want might be supplied. He did not notice the
appeal. It was repeated in a more peremptory manner, "Thomas, Mrs.
Murray has not a salt-spoon!" to which he replied most emphatically,
"Last time Mrs. Murray dined here we _lost_ a salt-spoon." An old
servant who took a similar charge of everything that went on in the
family, having observed that his master thought that he had drunk wine
with every lady at table, but had overlooked one, jogged his memory with
the question, "What ails ye at her wi' the green gown?"
In my own family I know a case of a very long service, and where, no
doubt, there was much interest and attachment; but it was a case where
the temper had not softened under the influence of years, but had rather
assumed that form of disposition which we denominate _crusty_. My
grand-uncle, Sir A. Ramsay, died in 1806, and left a domestic who had
been in his service since he was ten years of age; and being at the time
of his master's death past fifty or well on to sixty, he must have been
more than forty years a servant in the family. From the retired life my
grand-uncle had been leading, Jamie Layal had much of his own way, and,
like many a domestic so situated, he did not like to be contradicted,
and, in fact, could not bear to be found fault with. My uncle, who had
succeeded to a part of my grand-uncle's property, succeeded also to
Jamie Layal, and, from respect to his late master's memory and Jamie's
own services, he took him into his house, intending him to act as house
servant. However, this did not answer, and he was soon kept on, more
with the form than the reality of any active duty, and took any light
work that was going on about the house. In this capacity it was his
daily task to feed a flock of turkeys which were growing up to maturity.
On one occasion, my aunt having followed him in his work, and having
observed such a waste of food that the ground was actually covered with
grain which they could not eat, and which would soon be destroyed and
lost, naturally remonstrated, and suggested a more reasonable and
provident supply. But all the answer she got from the offended Jamie was
a bitter rejoinder, "Weel, then, neist time they sall get _nane ava!_"
On another occasion a family from a distance had called whilst my uncle
and aunt were out of the house. Jamie came into the parlour to deliver
the cards, or to announce that they had called. My aunt, somewhat vexed
at not having been in the way, inquired what message Mr. and Mrs. Innes
had left, as she had expected one. "No; no message." She returned to the
charge, and asked again if they had not told him _anything_ he was to
repeat. Still, "No; no message." "But did they say nothing? Are you sure
they said nothing?" Jamie, sadly put out and offended at being thus
interrogated, at last burst forth, "They neither said ba nor bum," and
indignantly left the room, banging the door after him. A characteristic
anecdote of one of these old domestics I have from a friend who was
acquainted with the parties concerned. The old man was standing at the
sideboard and attending to the demands of a pretty large dinner party;
the calls made for various wants from the company became so numerous and
frequent that the attendant got quite bewildered, and lost his patience
and temper; at length he gave vent to his indignation in a remonstrance
addressed to the whole company, "Cry a' thegither, that's the way to
be served."
I have two characteristic and dry Scottish answers, traditional in the
Lothian family, supplied to me by the late excellent and highly-gifted
Marquis. A Marquis of Lothian of a former generation observed in his
walk two workmen very busy with a ladder to reach a bell, on which they
next kept up a furious ringing. He asked what was the object of making
such a din, to which the answer was, "Oh, juist, my lord to ca' the
workmen together!" "Why, how many are there?" asked his lordship. "Ou,
juist Sandy and me," was the quiet rejoinder. The same Lord Lothian,
looking about the garden, directed his gardener's attention to a
particular plum-tree, charging him to be careful of the produce of that
tree, and send the _whole_ of it in marked, as it was of a very
particular kind. "Ou," said the gardener, "I'll dae that, my lord;
there's juist twa o' them."
These dry answers of Newbattle servants remind us of a similar state of
communication in a Yester domestic. Lord Tweeddale was very fond of
dogs, and on leaving Yester for London he instructed his head keeper, a
quaint bodie, to give him a periodical report of the kennel, and
particulars of his favourite dogs. Among the latter was an _especial_
one, of the true Skye breed, called "Pickle," from which soubriquet we
may form a tolerable estimate of his qualities.
It happened one day, in or about the year 1827, that poor Pickle,
during the absence of his master, was taken unwell; and the watchful
guardian immediately warned the Marquis of the sad fact, and of the
progress of the disease, which lasted three days--for which he sent the
three following laconic despatches:--
_Yester, May 1st_, 18--.
MY LORD,
Pickle's no weel.
Your Lordship's humble servant, etc.
_Yester, May Id_, 18--.
MY LORD,
Pickle will no do.
I am your Lordship's, etc.
_Tester, May 3d_, 18--.
MY LORD,
Pickle's dead.
I am your Lordship's, etc.
I have heard of an old Forfarshire lady who, knowing the habits of her
old and spoilt servant, when she wished a note to be taken without loss
of time, held it open and read it over to him, saying, "There, noo,
Andrew, ye ken a' that's in't; noo dinna stop to open it, but just send
it aff." Of another servant, when sorely tried by an unaccustomed bustle
and hurry, a very amusing anecdote has been recorded. His mistress, a
woman of high rank, who had been living in much quiet and retirement for
some time, was called upon to entertain a large party at dinner. She
consulted with Nichol, her faithful servant, and all the arrangements
were made for the great event. As the company were arriving, the lady
saw Nichol running about in great agitation, and in his shirt sleeves.
She remonstrated, and said that as the guests were coming in he must
put on his coat, "Indeed, my lady," was his excited reply, "indeed,
there's sae muckle rinnin' here and rinnin' there, that I'm just
distrackit. I hae cuist'n my coat and waistcoat, and faith I dinna ken
how lang I can thole[42] my breeks." There is often a ready wit in this
class of character, marked by their replies. I have the following
communicated from an ear-witness:--"Weel, Peggy," said a man to an old
family servant, "I wonder ye're aye single yet!" "Me marry," said she,
indignantly; "I wouldna gie my single life for a' the double anes I
ever saw!"
An old woman was exhorting a servant once about her ways. "You serve the
deevil," said she. "Me!" said the girl; "na, na, I dinna serve the
deevil; I serve ae single lady."
A baby was out with the nurse, who walked it up and down the garden.
"Is't a laddie or a lassie?" said the gardener. "A laddie," said the
maid. "Weel," says he, "I'm glad o' that, for there's ower mony women in
the world." "Hech, man," said Jess, "div ye no ken there's aye maist
sawn o' the best crap?"
The answers of servants used curiously to illustrate habits and manners
of the time,--as the economical modes of her mistress's life were well
touched by the lass who thus described her ways and domestic habits with
her household: "She's vicious upo' the wark; but eh, she's vary
mysterious o' the victualling."
A country habit of making the gathering of the congregation in the
churchyard previous to and after divine service an occasion for gossip
and business, which I remember well, is thoroughly described in the
following:--A lady, on hiring a servant girl in the country, told her,
as a great indulgence, that she should have the liberty of attending the
church every Sunday, but that she would be expected to return home
always immediately on the conclusion of service. The lady, however,
rather unexpectedly found a positive objection raised against this
apparently reasonable arrangement. "Then I canna engage wi' ye, mem; for
'deed I wadna gie the crack i' the kirk-yard for a' the sermon."
There is another story which shows that a greater importance might be
attached to the crack i' the kirk-yard than was done even by the servant
lass mentioned above. A rather rough subject, residing in Galloway, used
to attend church regularly, as it appeared, for the _sake_ of the crack;
for on being taken to task for his absenting himself, he remarked,
"There's nae need to gang to the kirk noo, for everybody gets a
newspaper."
The changes that many of us have lived to witness in this kind of
intercourse between families and old servants is a part of a still
greater change--the change in that modification of the feudal system,
the attachment of clans. This, also, from transfers of property and
extinction of old families in the Highlands, as well as from more
general causes, is passing away; and it includes also changes in the
intercourse between landed proprietors and cottagers, and abolition of
harvest-homes, and such meetings. People are now more independent of
each other, and service has become a pecuniary and not a sentimental
question. The extreme contrast of that old-fashioned Scottish
intercourse of families with their servants and dependants, of which I
have given some amusing examples, is found in the modern manufactory
system. There the service is a mere question of personal interest. One
of our first practical engineers, and one of the first engine-makers in
England, stated that he employed and paid handsomely on an average 1200
workmen; but that they held so little feeling for him as their master,
that not above half-a-dozen of the number would notice him when passing
him, either in the works or out of work hours. Contrast this advanced
state of dependants' indifference with the familiarity of domestic
intercourse we have been describing!
It has been suggested by my esteemed friend, Dr. W. Lindsay Alexander,
that Scottish anecdotes deal too exclusively with the shrewd, quaint,
and pawky _humour_ of our countrymen, and have not sufficiently
illustrated the deep pathos and strong loving-kindness of the "kindly
Scot,"--qualities which, however little appreciated across the Border,
abound in Scottish poetry and Scottish life. For example, to take the
case before us of these old retainers, although snappy and disagreeable
to the last degree in their replies, and often most provoking in their
ways, they were yet deeply and sincerely attached to the family where
they had so long been domesticated; and the servant who would reply to
her mistress's order to mend the fire by the short answer, "The fire's
weel eneuch," would at the same time evince much interest in all that
might assist her in sustaining the credit of her domestic economy; as,
for example, whispering in her ear at dinner, "Press the jeelies; they
winna keep;" and had the hour of real trial and of difficulty come to
the family, would have gone to the death for them, and shared their
greatest privations. Dr. Alexander gives a very interesting example of
kindness and affectionate attachment in an old Scottish domestic of his
own family, whose quaint and odd familiarity was charming. I give it in
his own words:--"When I was a child there was an old servant at
Pinkieburn, where my early days were spent, who had been all her life, I
may say, in the house--for she came to it a child, and lived, without
ever leaving it, till she died in it, seventy-five years of age. Her
feeling to her old master, who was just two years younger than herself,
was a curious compound of the deference of a servant and the familiarity
and affection of a sister. She had known him as a boy, lad, man, and old
man, and she seemed to have a sort of notion that without her he must be
a very helpless being indeed. 'I aye keepit the hoose for him, whether
he was hame or awa',' was a frequent utterance of hers; and she never
seemed to think the intrusion even of his own nieces, who latterly lived
with him, at all legitimate. When on her deathbed, he hobbled to her
room with difficulty, having just got over a severe attack of gout, to
bid her farewell. I chanced to be present, but was too young to remember
what passed, except one thing, which probably was rather recalled to me
afterwards than properly recollected by me. It was her last request.
'Laird,' said she (for so she always called him, though his lairdship
was of the smallest), 'will ye tell them to bury me whaur I'll lie
across at your feet?' I have always thought this characteristic of the
old Scotch servant, and as such I send it to you."
And here I would introduce another story which struck me very forcibly
as illustrating the union of the qualities referred to by Dr. Alexander.
In the following narrative, how deep and tender a feeling is expressed
in a brief dry sentence! I give Mr. Scott's language[43]:--"My brother
and I were, during our High School vacation, some forty years ago, very
much indebted to the kindness of a clever young carpenter employed in
the machinery workshop of New Lanark Mills, near to which we were
residing during our six weeks' holidays." It was he--Samuel Shaw, our
dear companion--who first taught us to saw, and to plane, and to turn
too; and who made us the bows and arrows in which we so much delighted.
The vacation over, and our hearts very sore, but bound to Samuel Shaw
for ever, our mother sought to place some pecuniary recompense in his
hand at parting, for all the great kindness he had shown her boys.
Samuel looked in her face, and gently moving her hand aside, with an
affectionate look cast upon us, who were by, exclaimed, in a tone which
had sorrow in it, "Noo, Mrs. Scott, _ye hae spoilt a'_." After such an
appeal, it may be supposed no recompense, in silver or in gold, remained
with Samuel Shaw.
On the subject of the old Scottish domestic, I have to acknowledge a
kind communication from Lord Kinloch, which I give in his Lordship's
words:--"My father had been in the counting-house of the well-known
David Dale, the founder of the Lanark Mills, and eminent for his
benevolence. Mr. Dale, who it would appear was a short stout man, had a
person in his employment named Matthew, who was permitted that
familiarity with his master which was so characteristic of the former
generation. One winter day Mr. Dale came into the counting-house, and
complained that he had fallen on the ice. Matthew, who saw that his
master was not much hurt, grinned a sarcastic smile. 'I fell all my
length,' said Mr. Dale. 'Nae great length, sir,' said Matthew. 'Indeed,
Matthew, ye need not laugh,' said Mr. Dale; 'I have hurt the sma' o' my
back.' 'I wunner whaur _that_ is,' said Matthew." Indeed, specimens
like Matthew, of serving-men of the former time, have latterly been fast
going out, but I remember one or two such. A lady of my acquaintance had
one named John in her house at Portobello. I remember how my modern
ideas were offended by John's familiarity when waiting at table. "Some
more wine, John," said his mistress. "There's some i' the bottle, mem,"
said John. A little after, "Mend the fire, John." "The fire's weel
eneuch, mem," replied the impracticable John. Another "John" of my
acquaintance was in the family of Mrs. Campbell of Ardnave, mother of
the Princess Polignac and the Hon. Mrs. Archibald Macdonald. A young
lady visiting in the family asked John at dinner for a potato. John made
no response. The request was repeated; when John, putting his mouth to
her ear, said, very audibly, "There's jist twa in the dish, and they
maun be keepit for the strangers."
The following was sent me by a kind correspondent--a learned Professor
in India--as a sample of _squabbling_ between Scottish servants. A
mistress observing something peculiar in her maid's manner, addressed
her, "Dear me, Tibbie, what are you so snappish about, that you go
knocking the things as you dust them?" "Ou, mem, it's Jock." "Well, what
has Jock been doing?" "Ou (with an indescribable, but easily imaginable
toss of the head), he was angry at me, an' misca'd me, an' I said I was
juist as the Lord had made me, an'----" "Well, Tibbie?" "An' he said the
Lord could hae had little to dae whan he made me." The idea of Tibbie
being the work of an idle moment was one, the deliciousness of which was
not likely to be relished by the lassie.
The following characteristic anecdote of a Highland servant I have
received from the same correspondent. An English gentleman, travelling
in the Highlands, was rather late of coming down to dinner. Donald was
sent up stairs to intimate that all was ready. He speedily returned,
nodding significantly, as much as to say that it was all right. "But,
Donald," said the master, after some further trial of a hungry man's
patience, "are ye sure ye made the gentleman understand?"
"_Understand?_" retorted Donald (who had peeped into the room and found
the guest engaged at his toilet), "I'se warrant ye he understands; he's
_sharping_ his teeth,"--not supposing the tooth-brush could be for any
other use.
There have been some very amusing instances given of the matter-of-fact
obedience paid to orders by Highland retainers when made to perform the
ordinary duties of domestic servants; as when Mr. Campbell, a Highland
gentleman, visiting in a country house, and telling Donald to bring
everything out of the bedroom, found all its movable articles--fender,
fire-irons, etc.--piled up in the lobby; so literal was the poor man's
sense of obedience to orders! And of this he gave a still more
extraordinary proof during his sojourn in Edinburgh, by a very ludicrous
exploit. When the family moved into a house there, Mrs. Campbell gave
him very particular instructions regarding visitors, explaining that
they were to be shown into the drawing-room, and no doubt used the
Scotticism, "_Carry_ any ladies that call up stairs." On the arrival of
the first visitors, Donald was eager to show his strict attention to the
mistress's orders. Two ladies came together, and Donald, seizing one in
his arms, said to the other, "Bide ye there till I come for ye," and, in
spite of her struggles and remonstrances, ushered the terrified visitor
into Mrs. Campbell's presence in this unwonted fashion.
Another case of _literal_ obedience to orders produced a somewhat
startling form of message. A servant of an old maiden lady, a patient of
Dr. Poole, formerly of Edinburgh, was under orders to go to the doctor
every morning to report the state of her health, how she had slept,
etc., with strict injunctions _always_ to add, "with her compliments."
At length, one morning the girl brought this extraordinary
message:--"Miss S----'s compliments, and she dee'd last night at
aicht o'clock!"
I recollect, in Montrose (that fruitful field for old Scottish
stories!), a most naïve reply from an honest lass, servant to old Mrs.
_Captain_ Fullerton. A party of gentlemen had dined with Mrs. Fullerton,
and they had a turkey for dinner. Mrs. F. proposed that one of the legs
should be _deviled_, and the gentlemen have it served up as a relish for
their wine. Accordingly one of the company skilled in the mystery
prepared it with pepper, cayenne, mustard, ketchup, etc. He gave it to
Lizzy, and told her to take it down to the kitchen, supposing, as a
matter of course, she would know that it was to be broiled, and brought
back in due time. But in a little while, when it was rung for, Lizzy
very innocently replied that she had eaten it up. As it was sent back to
the kitchen, her only idea was that it must be for herself. But on
surprise being expressed that she had eaten what was so highly peppered
and seasoned, she very quaintly answered, "Ou, I liket it a'
the better."
A well-known servant of the old school was John, the servant of Pitfour,
Mr. Ferguson, M.P., himself a most eccentric character, long father of
the House of Commons, and a great friend of Pitt. John used to
entertain the tenants, on Pitfour's brief visits to his estate, with
numerous anecdotes of his master and Mr. Pitt; but he always prefaced
them with something in the style of Cardinal Wolsey's _Ego et rex
meus_--with "Me, and Pitt, and Pitfour," went somewhere, or performed
some exploit. The famous Duchess of Gordon once wrote a note to John
(the name of this eccentric valet), and said, "John, put Pitfour into
the carriage on Tuesday, and bring him up to Gordon Castle to dinner."
After sufficiently scratching his head, and considering what he should
do, he showed the letter to Pitfour, who smiled, and said drily, "Well,
John, I suppose we must go."
An old domestic of this class gave a capital reason to his _young_
master for his being allowed to do as he liked:--"Ye needna find faut
wi' me, Maister Jeems; _I hae been langer aboot the place than yersel_."
It may seem ungracious to close this chapter with a communication which
appears to convey an unfavourable impression of an old servant. But the
truth is, real and attached domestic service does not offer its
pleasures and advantages without some alloy of annoyance, and yet how
much the solid benefits prevail over any occasional drawbacks!
The late Rev. Mr. Leslie of St. Andrew-Lhanbryd, a parish in Morayshire,
in describing an old servant who had been with him thirty years, said,
"The first ten years she was an excellent servant; the second ten she
was a good mistress; but the third ten she was a perfect tyrant."
CHAPTER THE FIFTH.
SCOTTISH JUDGES.
There is no class of men which stands out more prominent in the
reminiscences of the last hundred years than that of our SCOTTISH
JUDGES. They form, in many instances, a type or representative of the
leading _peculiarities_ of Scottish life and manners. They are mixed up
with all our affairs, social and political. There are to be found in the
annals of the bench rich examples of pure Scottish humour, the strongest
peculiarity of Scottish phraseology, acuteness of intellect, cutting
wit, eccentricity of manners, and abundant powers of conviviality. Their
successors no longer furnish the same anecdotes of oddity or of
intemperance. The Courts of the Scottish Parliament House, without
lacking the learning or the law of those who sat there sixty years ago,
lack not the refinement and the dignity that have long distinguished the
Courts of Westminster Hall.
Stories still exist, traditionary in society, amongst its older members,
regarding Lords Gardenstone, Monboddo, Hermand, Newton, Polkemmet,
Braxfield, etc. But many younger persons do not know them. It may be
interesting to some of my readers to devote a few pages to the subject,
and to offer some judicial gleanings[44].
I have two anecdotes to show that, both in social and judicial life, a
remarkable change must have taken place amongst the "fifteen." I am
assured that the following scene took place at the _table_ of Lord
Polkemmet, at a dinner party in his house. When the covers were removed,
the dinner was seen to consist of veal broth, a roast fillet of veal,
veal cutlets, a florentine (an excellent old Scottish dish composed of
veal), a calf's head, calf's foot jelly. The worthy judge could not help
observing a surprise on the countenance of his guests, and perhaps a
simper on some; so he broke out in explanation: "Ou ay, it's a cauf;
when we kill a beast we just eat up ae side, and down the tither." The
expressions he used to describe his own _judicial_ preparations for the
bench were very characteristic: "Ye see I first read a' the pleadings,
and then, after lettin' them wamble in my wame wi' the toddy twa or
three days, I gie my ain interlocutor." For a moment suppose such
anecdotes to be told now of any of our high legal functionaries. Imagine
the feelings of surprise that would be called forth were the present
Justice-Clerk to adopt such imagery in describing the process of
preparing _his_ legal judgment on a difficult case in his court!
In regard to the wit of the Scottish _bar_.--It is a subject which I do
not pretend to illustrate. It would require a volume for itself. One
anecdote, however, I cannot resist, and I record it as forming a
striking example of the class of Scottish humour which, with our
dialect, has lost its distinctive characteristics. John Clerk
(afterwards a judge by the title of Lord Eldin) was arguing a Scotch
appeal case before the House of Lords. His client claimed the use of a
mill-stream by a prescriptive right. Mr. Clerk spoke broad Scotch, and
argued that "the _watter_ had rin that way for forty years. Indeed
naebody kenn'd how long, and why should his client now be deprived of
the watter?" etc. The chancellor, much amused at the pronunciation of
the Scottish advocate, in a rather bantering tone asked him, "Mr. Clerk,
do you spell water in Scotland with two t's?" Clerk, a little nettled at
this hit at his national tongue, answered, "Na, my Lord, we dinna spell
watter (making the word as short as he could) wi' twa t's, but we spell
mainners (making the word as long as he could) wi' twa n's."
John Clerk's vernacular version of the motto of the Celtic Club is
highly characteristic of his humour and his prejudice. He had a strong
dislike to the whole Highland race, and the motto assumed by the modern
Celts, "Olim marte, nunc arte," Clerk translated "Formerly robbers, now
thieves." Quite equal to Swift's celebrated remark on William III.'s
motto--_Recepit, non rapuit_--"that the receiver was as bad as the
thief." Very dry and pithy too was Clerk's legal _opinion_ given to a
claimant of the Annandale peerage, who, when pressing the employment of
some obvious forgeries, was warned that if he persevered, nae doot he
might be a peer, but it would be a peer o' anither _tree!_
The clever author of "Peter's Letters" gives an elaborate description of
Clerk's character whilst at the bar, and speaks of him as "the plainest,
the shrewdest, and the most sarcastic of men." Nor could he entirely
repress these peculiarities when raised to the bench under the title of
Lord Eldin.
His defence of a young friend, who was an advocate, and had incurred
the displeasure of the Judges, has often been repeated. Mr. Clerk had
been called upon to offer his apologies for disrespect, or implied
disrespect, in his manner of addressing the Bench. The advocate had
given great offence by expressing his "_astonishment_" at something
which had emanated from their Lordships, implying by it his disapproval.
He got Lord Eldin, who was connected with him, to make an apology for
him. But Clerk could not resist his humorous vein by very equivocally
adding, "My client has expressed his astonishment, my Lords, at what he
had met with here; if my young friend had known this court as long as I
have, he would have been _astonished at nothing_."
A kind Perthshire correspondent has sent me a characteristic anecdote,
which has strong internal evidence of being genuine. When Clerk was
raised to the Bench he presented his credentials to the Court, and,
according to custom, was received by the presiding Judge--who, on this
occasion, in a somewhat sarcastic tone, referred to the delay which had
taken place in his reaching a position for which he had so long been
qualified, and to which he must have long aspired. He hinted at the long
absence of the Whig party from political power as the cause of this
delay, which offended Clerk; and he paid it off by intimating in his
pithy and bitter tone, which he could so well assume, that it was not of
so much consequence--"Because," as he said, "ye see, my Lord, I was not
juist sae sune _doited_ as some o' your Lordships."
The following account of his conducting a case is also highly
characteristic. Two individuals, the one a mason, the other a carpenter,
both residenters in West Portsburgh, formed a copartnery, and commenced
building houses within the boundaries of the burgh corporation. One of
the partners was a freeman, the other not. The corporation, considering
its rights invaded by a non-freeman exercising privileges only accorded
to one of their body, brought an action in the Court of Session against
the interloper, and his partner as aiding and abetting. Mr. John Clerk,
then an advocate, was engaged for the defendants. How the cause was
decided matters little. What was really curious in the affair was the
naively droll manner in which the advocate for the defence opened his
pleading before the Lord Ordinary. "My Lord," commenced John, in his
purest Doric, at the same time pushing up his spectacles to his brow and
hitching his gown over his shoulders, "I wad hae thocht naething o't
(the action), had hooses been a new invention, and my clients been
caught ouvertly impingin' on the patent richts o' the inventors!"
Of Lord Gardenstone (Francis Garden) I have many early _personal_
reminiscences, as his property of Johnstone was in the Howe of the
Mearns, not far from my early home. He was a man of energy, and promoted
improvements in the county with skill and practical sagacity. His
favourite scheme was to establish a flourishing town upon his property,
and he spared no pains or expense in promoting the importance of his
village of Laurencekirk. He built an excellent inn, to render it a stage
for posting. He built and endowed an Episcopal chapel for the benefit of
his English immigrants, in the vestry of which he placed a most
respectable library; and he encouraged manufacturers of all kinds to
settle in the place. Amongst others, as we have seen, came the hatter
who found only three hats in the kirk. His lordship was much taken up
with his hotel or inn, and for which he provided a large volume for
receiving the written contributions of travellers who frequented it. It
was the landlady's business to present this volume to the guests, and
ask them to write in it during the evenings whatever occurred to their
memory or their imagination. In the mornings it was a favourite
amusement of Lord Gardenstone to look it over. I recollect Sir Walter
Scott being much taken with this contrivance, and his asking me about it
at Abbotsford. His son said to him, "You should establish such a book,
sir, at Melrose;" upon which Sir W. replied, "No, Walter; I should just
have to see a great deal of abuse of myself." On his son deprecating
such a result, and on his observing my surprised look, he answered,
"Well, well, I should have to read a great deal of foolish praise, which
is much the same thing." An amusing account is given of the cause of
Lord Gardenstone withdrawing this volume from the hotel, and of his
determination to submit it no more to the tender mercies of the passing
traveller. As Professor Stuart of Aberdeen was passing an evening at the
inn, the volume was handed to him, and he wrote in it the following
lines, in the style of the prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer:--
"Frae sma' beginnings Rome of auld
Became a great imperial city;
'Twas peopled first, as we are tauld,
By bankrupts, vagabonds, banditti.
Quoth Thamas, Then the day may come,
When Laurencekirk shall equal Rome."
These lines so nettled Lord Gardenstone, that the volume disappeared,
and was never seen afterwards in the inn of Laurencekirk. There is
another lingering reminiscence which I retain connected with the inn at
Laurencekirk. The landlord, Mr. Cream, was a man well known throughout
all the county, and was distinguished, in his later years, as one of the
few men who continued to wear a _pigtail_. On one occasion the late Lord
Dunmore (grandfather or great-grandfather of the present peer), who also
still wore his queue, halted for a night at Laurencekirk. On the host
leaving the room, where he had come to take orders for supper, Lord
Dunmore turned to his valet and said, "Johnstone, do I look as like a
fool in my pigtail as Billy Cream does?"--"Much about it, my lord," was
the valet's imperturbable answer. "Then," said his lordship, "cut off
mine to-morrow morning when I dress."
Lord Gardenstone seemed to have had two favourite tastes: he indulged in
the love of pigs and the love of snuff. He took a young pig as a pet,
and it became quite tame, and followed him about like a dog. At first
the animal shared his bed, but when, growing up to advanced swinehood,
it became unfit for such companionship, he had it to sleep in his room,
in which he made a comfortable couch for it of his own clothes. His
snuff he kept not in a box, but in a leathern waist-pocket made for the
purpose. He took it in enormous quantities, and used to say that if he
had a dozen noses he would feed them all. Lord Gardenstone died 1793.
Lord Monboddo (James Burnet, Esq. of Monboddo) is another of the
well-known members of the Scottish Bench, who combined, with many
eccentricities of opinion and habits, great learning and a most amiable
disposition. From his paternal property being in the county of
Kincardine, and Lord M. being a visitor at my father's house, and
indeed a relation or clansman, I have many early reminiscences of
stories which I have heard of the learned judge. His speculations
regarding the origin of the human race have, in times past, excited much
interest and amusement. His theory was that man emerged from a wild and
savage condition, much resembling that of apes; that man had then a tail
like other animals, but which by progressive civilisation and the
constant habit of _sitting_, had become obsolete. This theory produced
many a joke from facetious and superficial people, who had never read
any of the arguments of the able and elaborate work, by which the
ingenious and learned author maintained his theory[45]. Lord Kames, a
brother judge, had his joke on it. On some occasion of their meeting,
Lord Monboddo was for giving Lord Kames the precedency. Lord K.
declined, and drew back, saying, "By no means, my lord; you must walk
first, that I may _see your tail_." I recollect Lord Monboddo's coming
to dine at Fasque caused a great excitement of interest and curiosity. I
was in the nursery, too young to take part in the investigations; but my
elder brothers were on the alert to watch his arrival, and get a glimpse
of his tail. Lord M. was really a learned man, read Greek and Latin
authors--not as a mere exercise of classical scholarship--but because he
identified himself with their philosophical opinions, and would have
revived Greek customs and modes of life. He used to give suppers after
the manner of the ancients, and used to astonish his guests by the
ancient cookery of Spartan broth, and of _mulsum_. He was an
enthusiastical Platonist. On a visit to Oxford, he was received with
great respect by the scholars of the University, who were much
interested in meeting with one who had studied Plato as a pupil and
follower. In accordance with the old custom at learned universities,
Lord Monboddo was determined to address the Oxonians in Latin, which he
spoke with much readiness. But they could not stand the numerous slips
in prosody. Lord Monboddo shocked the ears of the men of Eton and of
Winchester by dreadful false quantities--verse-making being, in
Scotland, then quite neglected, and a matter little thought of by the
learned judge.
Lord Monboddo was considered an able lawyer, and on many occasions
exhibited a very clear and correct judicial discernment of intricate
cases. It was one of his peculiarities that he never sat on the bench
with his brother judges, but always at the clerk's table. Different
reasons for this practice have been given, but the simple fact seems to
have been, that he was deaf, and heard better at the lower seat. His
mode of travelling was on horseback. He scorned carriages, on the ground
of its being unmanly to "sit in a box drawn by brutes." When he went to
London he rode the whole way. At the same period, Mr. Barclay of Ury
(father of the well-known Captain Barclay), when he represented
Kincardineshire in Parliament, always _walked_ to London. He was a very
powerful man, and could walk fifty miles a day, his usual refreshment on
the road being a bottle of port wine, poured into a bowl, and drunk off
at a draught. I have heard that George III. was much interested at these
performances, and said, "I ought to be proud of my Scottish subjects,
when my judges _ride_, and my members of Parliament _walk_ to the
metropolis."
On one occasion of his being in London, Lord Monboddo attended a trial
in the Court of King's Bench. A cry was heard that the roof of the
court-room was giving way, upon which judges, lawyers, and people made
a rush to get to the door. Lord Monboddo viewed the scene from his
corner with much composure. Being deaf and short-sighted, he knew
nothing of the cause of the tumult. The alarm proved a false one; and on
being asked why he had not bestirred himself to escape like the rest, he
coolly answered that he supposed it was an _annual ceremony_, with
which, as an alien to the English laws, he had no concern, but which he
considered it interesting to witness as a remnant of antiquity! Lord
Monboddo died 1799.
Lord Rockville (the Hon. Alexander Gordon, third son of the Earl of
Aberdeen) was a judge distinguished in his day by his ability and
decorum. "He adorned the bench by the dignified manliness of his
appearance, and polished urbanity of his manners[46]." Like most lawyers
of his time, he took his glass freely, and a whimsical account which he
gave, before he was advanced to the bench, of his having fallen upon his
face, after making too free with the bottle, was commonly current at the
time. Upon his appearing late at a convivial club with a most rueful
expression of countenance, and on being asked what was the matter, he
exclaimed with great solemnity, "Gentlemen, I have just met with the
most extraordinary adventure that ever occurred to a human being. As I
was walking along the Grassmarket, all of a sudden _the street rose up
and struck me on the face_." He had, however, a more serious _encounter_
with the street after he was a judge. In 1792, his foot slipped as he
was going to the Parliament House; he broke his leg, was taken home,
fevered, and died.
Lord Braxfield (Robert M'Queen of Braxfield) was one of the judges of
the old school, well known in his day, and might be said to possess all
the qualities united, by which the class were remarkable. He spoke the
broadest Scotch. He was a sound and laborious lawyer. He was fond of a
glass of good claret, and had a great fund of good Scotch humour. He
rose to the dignity of Justice-Clerk, and, in consequence, presided at
many important political criminal trials about the year 1793-4, such as
those of Muir, Palmer, Skirving, Margarot, Gerrold, etc. He conducted
these trials with much ability and great firmness, occasionally, no
doubt, with more appearance of severity and personal prejudice than is
usual with the judges who in later times are called on to preside on
similar occasions. The disturbed temper of the times and the daring
spirit of the political offenders seemed, he thought, to call for a bold
and fearless front on the part of the judge, and Braxfield was the man
to show it, both on the bench and in common life. He met, however,
sometimes with a spirit as bold as his own from the prisoners before
him. When Skirving was on trial for sedition, he thought Braxfield was
threatening him, and by gesture endeavouring to intimidate him;
accordingly, he boldly addressed the Bench:--"It is altogether
unavailing for your Lordship to menace me, for I have long learnt not to
fear the face of man." I have observed that he adhered to the _broadest_
Scottish dialect. "Hae ye ony coonsel, man?" he said to Maurice Margarot
(who, I believe, was an Englishman). "No," was the reply. "Div ye want
to hae ony appinted?" "No," replied Margarot; "I only want an
_interpreter_ to make me understand what your Lordship says." A
prisoner, accused of stealing some linen garments, was one day brought
up for trial before the old judge, but was acquitted because the
prosecutor had charged him with stealing shirts, whereas the articles
stolen were found to be shifts--female apparel. Braxfield indignantly
remarked that the Crown Counsel should have called them by the Scottish
name of _sarks_, which applied to both sexes.
Braxfield had much humour, and enjoyed wit in others. He was immensely
delighted at a reply by Dr. M'Cubbin, the minister of Bothwell.
Braxfield, when Justice-Clerk, was dining at Lord Douglas's, and
observed there was only port upon the table. In his usual off-hand
brusque manner, he demanded of the noble host if "there was nae claret
i' the castle." "Yes," said Lord Douglas; "but my butler tells me it is
not good." "Let's pree't," said Braxfield in his favourite dialect. A
bottle was produced, and declared by all present to be quite excellent.
"Noo, minister," said the old judge, addressing Dr. M'Cubbin, who was
celebrated as a wit in his day, "as a _fama clamosa_ has gone forth
against this wine, I propose that you _absolve_ it,"--playing upon the
terms made use of in the Scottish Church Courts. "Ay, my Lord," said the
minister, "you are first-rate authority for a case of civil or criminal
law, but you do not quite understand our Church Court practice. We never
absolve _till after three several appearances_." The wit and the
condition of absolution were alike relished by the judge. Lord Braxfield
closed a long and useful life in 1799.
Of Lord Hermand we have already had occasion to speak, as in fact his
name has become in some manner identified with that conviviality which
marked almost as a characteristic the Scottish Bench of his time. He
gained, however, great distinction as a judge, and was a capital lawyer.
When at the bar, Lords Newton and Hermand were great friends, and many
were the convivial meetings they enjoyed together. But Lord Hermand
outlived all his old last-century contemporaries, and formed with Lord
Balgray what we may consider the connecting links between the past and
the present race of Scottish lawyers.
Lord Kames was a keen agricultural experimentalist, and in his
_Gentleman Farmer_ anticipated many modern improvements. He was,
however, occasionally too sanguine. "John," said he one day to his old
overseer, "I think we'll see the day when a man may carry out as much
chemical manure in his waistcoat pocket as will serve for a whole
field." "Weel," rejoined the other, "I am of opinion that if your
lordship were to carry out the dung in your waistcoat pocket, ye might
bring hame the crap in your greatcoat pocket."
We could scarcely perhaps offer a more marked difference between habits
_once_ tolerated on the bench and those which now distinguish the august
seat of Senators of Justice, than by quoting, from _Kay's Portraits_,
vol. ii. p. 278, a sally of a Lord of Session of those days, which he
played off, when sitting as judge, upon a young friend whom he was
determined to frighten. "A young counsel was addressing him on some not
very important point that had arisen in the division of a common (or
commonty, according to law phraseology), when, having made some bold
averment, the judge exclaimed, 'That's a lee, Jemmie,' 'My lord!'
ejaculated the amazed barrister. 'Ay, ay, Jemmie; I see by your face
ye're leein'.' 'Indeed, my lord, I am not.' 'Dinna tell me that; it's no
in your memorial (brief)--awa wi' you;' and, overcome with astonishment
and vexation, the discomfited barrister left the bar. The judge
thereupon chuckled with infinite delight; and beckoning to the clerk
who attended on the occasion, he said, 'Are ye no Rabbie H----'s man?'
'Yes, my lord.' 'Wasna Jemmie----leein'?' 'Oh no, my lord.' 'Ye're quite
sure?' Oh yes.' 'Then just write out what you want, and I'll sign it; my
faith, but I made Jemmie stare.' So the decision was dictated by the
clerk, and duly signed by the judge, who left the bench highly diverted
with the fright he had given his young friend." Such scenes enacted in
court _now_ would astonish the present generation, both of lawyers and
of suitors.
We should not do justice to our Scottish Reminiscences of judges and
lawyers, if we omitted the once celebrated Court of Session _jeu
d'esprit_ called the "Diamond Beetle Case." This burlesque report of a
judgment was written by George Cranstoun, advocate, who afterwards sat
in court as judge under the title of Lord Corehouse. Cranstoun was one
of the ablest lawyers of his time; he was a prime scholar, and a man of
most refined taste and clear intellect. This humorous and clever
production was printed in a former edition of these Reminiscences, and
in a very flattering notice of the book which appeared in the _North
British Review_, the reviewer--himself, as is well known, a
distinguished member of the Scottish judicial bench--remarks: "We are
glad that the whole of the 'Diamond Beetle' by Cranstoun has been given;
for nothing can be more graphic, spirited, and ludicrous, than the
characteristic speeches of the learned judges who deliver their opinions
in the case of defamation." As copies of this very clever and jocose
production are not now easily obtained, and as some of my younger
readers may not have seen it, I have reprinted it in this edition.
Considered in the light of a memorial of the bench, as it was known to
a former generation, it is well worth preserving; for, as the editor of
_Kay's Portraits_ well observes, although it is a caricature, it is
entirely without rancour, or any feeling of a malevolent nature towards
those whom the author represents as giving judgment in the "Diamond
Beetle" case. And in no way could the involved phraseology of Lord
Bannatyne, the predilection for Latin quotation of Lord Meadowbank, the
brisk manner of Lord Hermand, the anti-Gallic feeling of Lord Craig, the
broad dialect of Lords Polkemmet and Balmuto, and the hesitating manner
of Lord Methven, be more admirably caricatured.
FULL COPY OF THE FINDING OF THE COURT IN
THE ONCE CELEBRATED "DIAMOND BEETLE
CASE[47]."
_Speeches taken at advising the Action of Defamation and
Damages,_ ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM, _Jeweller in
Edinburgh, against_ JAMES EUSSELL, _Surgeon there_.
"THE LORD PRESIDENT (Sir ILAY CAMPBELL).--Your Lordships
have the petition of Alexander Cunningham against Lord
Bannatyne's interlocutor. It is a case of defamation and
damages for calling the petitioner's _Diamond Beetle_ an
_Egyptian Louse_. You have the Lord Ordinary's distinct
interlocutor, on pages 29 and 30 of this petition:--'Having
considered the Condescendence of the pursuer, Answers for the
defender,' and so on; 'Finds, in respect that it is not
alleged that the diamonds on the back of the Diamond Beetle
are real diamonds, or anything but shining spots, such as are
found on other Diamond Beetles, which likewise occur, though
in a smaller number, on a great number of other Beetles,
somewhat different from the Beetle libelled, and similar to
which there may be Beetles in Egypt, with shining spots on
their backs, which may be termed Lice there, and may be
different not only from the common Louse, but from the Louse
mentioned by Moses as one of the plagues of Egypt, which is
admitted to be a filthy troublesome Louse, even worse than
the said Louse, which is clearly different from the Louse
libelled. But that the other Louse is the same with, or
similar to, the said Beetle, which is also the same with the
other Beetle; and although different from the said Beetle
libelled, yet, as the said Beetle is similar to the other
Beetle, and the said Louse to the other Louse libelled; and
the other Louse to the other Beetle, which is the same with,
or similar to, the Beetle which somewhat resembles the Beetle
libelled; assoilzies the defender, and finds expenses due.'
"Say away, my Lords.
"LORD MEADOWBANK.--This is a very intricate and puzzling
question, my Lord. I have formed no decided opinion; but at
present I am rather inclined to think the interlocutor is
right, though not upon the _ratio_ assigned in it. It appears
to me that there are two points for consideration. _First_,
whether the words libelled amount to a _convicium_ against
the Beetle; and _Secondly_, admitting the _convicium_,
whether the pursuer is entitled to found upon it in this
action. Now, my Lords, if there be a _convicium_ at all, it
consists in the _comparatio_ or comparison of the
_Scaraboeus_ or Beetle with the Egyptian _Pediculus_ or
_Louse_. My first doubt regards this point, but it is not at
all founded on what the defender alleges, that there is no
such animal as an Egyptian _Pediculus_ or _Louse in rerum
natura_; for though it does not _actually_ exist, it may
_possibly_ exist (if not in _actio_, yet in _potentia_--if
not in actuality, yet in potentiality or capacity); and
whether its existence be in _esse vel posse_, is the same
thing to this question, provided there be _termini habiles_
for ascertaining what it would be if it did exist. But my
doubt is here:--How am I to discover what are the _essentia_
of any Louse, whether Egyptian or not? It is very easy to
describe its accidents as a naturalist would do--to say that
it belongs to the tribe of _Aptera_ (or, that is, a yellow,
little, greedy, filthy, despicable reptile), but we do not
learn from this what the _proprium_ of the animal is in a
logical sense, and still less what its _differentia_ are.
Now, without these it is impossible to judge whether there is
a _convicium_ or not; for, in a case of this kind, which
_sequitur naturam delicti_, we must take them _meliori
sensu_, and presume the _comparatio_ to be _in melioribus
tantum_. And here I beg that parties, and the bar in
general--[interrupted by Lord Hermand: _Your Lordship should
address yourself to the Chair_]--I say, I beg it may be
understood that I do not rest my opinion on the ground that
_veritas convicii excusat_. I am clear that although this
Beetle actually were an Egyptian Louse, it would accord no
relevant defence, provided the calling it so were a
_convicium_; and there my doubt lies.
"With regard to the second point, I am satisfied that the
_Scaraboeus_ or Beetle itself has no _persona standi in
judicio_; and therefore the pursuer cannot insist in the name
of the _Scaraboeus_, or for his behoof. If the action lie at
all, it must be at the instance of the pursuer himself, as
the _verus dominus_ of the _Scaraboeus_, for being
calumniated through the _convicium_ directed primarily
against the animal standing in that relation to him. Now,
abstracting from the qualification of an actual _dominium_,
which is not alleged, I have great doubts whether a mere
_convicium_ is necessarily transmitted from one object to
another, through the relation of a _dominium_ subsisting
between them; and if not necessarily transmissible, we must
see the principle of its actual transmission here; and that
has not yet been pointed out.
"LORD HERMAND.--We heard a little ago, my Lord, that there is
a difficulty in this case; but I have not been fortunate
enough, for my part, to find out where the difficulty lies.
Will any man presume to tell me that a Beetle is not a
Beetle, and that a Louse is not a Louse? I never saw the
petitioner's Beetle, and what's more I don't care whether I
ever see it or not; but I suppose it's like other Beetles,
and that's enough for me.
"But, my Lord, I know the other reptile well. I have seen
them, I have felt them, my Lord, ever since I was a child in
my mother's arms; and my mind tells me that nothing but the
deepest and blackest malice rankling in the human breast
could have suggested this comparison, or led any man to form
a thought so injurious and insulting. But, my Lord, there's
more here than all that--a great deal more. One could have
thought the defender would have gratified his spite to the
full by comparing the Beetle to a common Louse--an animal
sufficiently vile and abominable for the purpose of
defamation--[_Shut that door there_]--but he adds the epithet
_Egyptian_, and I know well what he means by that epithet. He
means, my Lord, a Louse that has been fattened on the head of
a _Gipsy or Tinker_, undisturbed by the comb or nail, and
unmolested in the enjoyment of its native filth. He means a
Louse grown to its full size, ten times larger and ten times
more abominable than those with which _your Lordships and I
are familiar_. The petitioner asks redress for the injury so
atrocious and so aggravated; and, as far as my voice goes, he
shall not ask it in vain.
"LORD CRAIG.--I am of the opinion last delivered. It appears
to me to be slanderous and calumnious to compare a Diamond
Beetle to the filthy and mischievous animal libelled. By an
Egyptian Louse I understand one which has been formed on the
head of a native Egyptian--a race of men who, after
degenerating for many centuries, have sunk at last into the
abyss of depravity, in consequence of having been subjugated
for a time by the French. I do not find that Turgot, or
Condorcet, or the rest of the economists, ever reckoned the
combing of the head a species of productive labour; and I
conclude, therefore, that wherever French principles have
been propagated, _Lice_ grow to an immoderate size,
especially in a warm climate like that of Egypt. I shall only
add, that we ought to be sensible of the blessings we enjoy
under a free and happy Constitution, where Lice and men live
under the restraint of equal laws the only equality that can
exist in a well-regulated state.
"LORD POLKEMMET.--It should be observed, my Lord, that what
is called a Beetle is a reptile very well known in this
country. I have seen mony are o' them in Drumshorlin Muir; it
is a little black beastie, about the size of my thoom-nail.
The country-folks ca' them Clocks; and I believe they ca'
them also Maggy-wi'-the-mony-feet; but they are not the least
like any Louse that ever I saw; so that, in my opinion,
though the defender may have made a blunder through
ignorance, in comparing them, there does not seem to have
been any _animus injuriandi_; therefore I am for refusing the
petition, my Lords.
"LORD BALMUTO.--'Am[48] for refusing the petition. There's
more Lice than Beetles in Fife. They ca' them Clocks there.
What they ca' a Beetle is a thing as lang as my arm; thick at
one end and sma' at the other. I thought, when I read the
petition, that the Beetle or Bittle had been the thing that
the women have when they are washing towels or napery
with--things for dadding them with; and I see the petitioner
is a jeweller till his trade; and I thought he had are o'
thae Beetles, and set it all round with diamonds; and I
thought it a foolish and extravagant idea; and I saw no
resemblance it could have to a Louse. But I find I was
mistaken, my Lord; and I find it only a Beetle-clock the
petitioner has; but my opinion's the same as it was before. I
say, my Lords, 'am for refusing the petition, I say--
"LORD WOODHOUSELEE.--There is a case abridged in the third
volume of the _Dictionary of Decisions_, Chalmers _v._
Douglas, in which it was found that _veritas convicii
excusat_, which may be rendered not literally, but in a free
and spirited manner, according to the most approved
principles of translation, 'the truth of calumny affords a
relevant defence.' If, therefore, it be the law of Scotland
(which I am clearly of opinion it is) that the truth of the
calumny affords a relevant defence, and if it be likewise
true that the Diamond Beetle is really an Egyptian Louse, I
am inclined to conclude (though certainly the case is
attended with difficulty) that the defender ought to be
assoilzied.--_Refuse_.
"LORD JUSTICE-CLERK (RAE).--I am very well acquainted with
the defender in this action, and have respect for him, and
esteem him likewise. I know him to be a skilful and expert
surgeon, and also a good man; and I would do a great deal to
serve him or to be of use to him, if I had it in my power to
do so. But I think on this occasion he has spoken rashly, and
I fear foolishly and improperly. I hope he had no bad
intention--I am sure he had not. But the petitioner (for whom
I have likewise a great respect, because I knew his father,
who was a very respectable baker in Edinburgh, and supplied
my family with bread, and very good bread it was, and for
which his accounts were regularly discharged), it seems, has
a Clock or a Beetle, I think it is called a Diamond Beetle,
which he is very fond of, and has a fancy for, and the
defender has compared it to a Louse, or a Bug, or a Flea, or
a worse thing of that kind, with a view to render it
despicable or ridiculous, and the petitioner so likewise, as
the proprietor or owner thereof. It is said that this is a
Louse _in fact_, and that the _veritas convicii excusat_; and
mention is made of a decision in the case of Chalmers _v._
Douglas. I have always had a great veneration for the
decisions of your Lordships; and I am sure will always
continue to have while I sit here; but that case was
determined by a very small majority, and I have heard your
Lordships mention it on various occasions, and you have
always desiderated the propriety of it, and I think have
departed from it in some instances. I remember the
circumstances of the case well:--Helen Chalmers lived in
Musselburgh, and the defender, Mrs. Douglas, lived in
Fisherrow; and at that time there was much intercourse
between the genteel inhabitants of Fisherrow, and
Musselburgh, and Inveresk, and likewise Newbigging; and there
were balls, or dances, or assemblies every fortnight, or
oftener, and also sometimes I believe every week; and there
were card-parties, assemblies once a fortnight, or oftener;
and the young people danced there also, and others played at
cards, and there were various refreshments, such as tea and
coffee, and butter and bread, and I believe, but I am not
sure, porter and negus, and likewise small beer. And it was
at one of these assemblies that Mrs. Douglas called Mrs.
Chalmers very improper names. And Mrs. Chalmers brought an
action of defamation before the Commissaries, and it came by
advocation into this Court, and your Lordships allowed a
proof of the _veritas convicii_, and it lasted a very long
time, and in the end answered no good purpose even to the
defender herself, while it did much hurt to the pursuer's
character. I am therefore for REFUSING such a proof in this
case, and I think the petitioner in this case and his Beetle
have been slandered, and the petition ought to be seen.
"LORD METHVEN.--If I understand this--a--a--a--interlocutor,
it is not said that the--a--a--a--a--Egyptian Lice are
Beetles, but that they may be, or--a--a--a--a--resemble
Beetles. I am therefore for sending the process to the
Ordinary to ascertain the fact, as I think it depends upon
that whether there be--a--a--a--a--_convicium_ or not. I
think also the petitioner should be ordained
to--a--a--a--produce his Beetle, and the defender an Egyptian
Louse or _Pediculus_, and if he has not one, that he should
take a diligence--a--a--a--against havers to recover Lice of
various kinds; and these may be remitted to Dr. Monro, or Mr.
Playfair, or to some other naturalist, to report upon
the subject.
"Agreed to."
This is clearly a Reminiscence of a bygone state of matters
in the Court of Session. I think every reader in our day, of
the once famous Beetle case, will come to the conclusion
that, making all due allowance for the humorous embellishment
of the description, and even for some exaggeration of
caricature, it describes what was once a real state of
matters, which, he will be sure, is real no more. The day of
Judges of the Balmuto-Hermand-Polkemmet class has passed
away, and is become a Scottish _Reminiscence_. Having thus
brought before my readers some Reminiscences of past times
from the Courts of Justice, let me advert to one which
belongs to, or was supposed to belong to, past days of our
Scottish universities. It is now a matter of tradition. But
an idea prevailed, whether correctly or incorrectly, some
eighty or a hundred years ago, that at northern colleges
degrees were regularly sold, and those who could pay the
price obtained them, without reference to the merits or
attainments of those on whom they were conferred. We have
heard of divers jokes being passed on those who were supposed
to have received such academical honours, as well as on those
who had given them. It is said Dr Samuel Johnson joined in
this sarcastic humour. But his prejudices both against
Scotland and Scottish literature were well known. Colman, in
his amusing play of the "Heir at Law," makes his Dr. Pangloss
ludicrously describe his receiving an LL.D. degree, on the
grounds of his own celebrity (as he had never seen the
college), and his paying the heads one pound fifteen
shillings and threepence three farthings as a handsome
compliment to them on receiving his diploma. Colman certainly
had studied at a northern university. But he might have gone
into the idea in fun. However this may be, an anecdote is
current in the east of Scotland, which is illustrative of
this real or supposed state of matters, to which we may
indeed apply the Italian phrase that if "non vero" it is "ben
trovato." The story is this:--An East Lothian minister,
accompanied by his man, who acted as betheral of his parish,
went over to a northern university to purchase his degree,
and on their return home he gave strict charge to his man,
that as now he was invested with academical honour, he was to
be sure to say, if any one asked for the minister, "O yes,
the Doctor is at home, or the Doctor is in the study, or the
Doctor is out, as the case might be." The man at once
acquiesced in the propriety of this observance on account of
his master's newly-acquired dignity. But he quietly added,
"Ay, ay, minister; an' if ony are speirs for me, the servants
maun be sure to say, Oh, the Doctor's in the stable, or the
Doctor's in the kitchen, or the Doctor's in the garden or the
field." "What do you mean, Dauvid?" exclaimed his astonished
master; "what can _you_ have to do with Doctor?" "Weel, ye
see, sir," said David, looking very knowing, "when ye got
your degree, I thought that as I had saved a little money, I
couldna lay it out better, as being betheral of the church,
than tak out a degree to mysell." The story bears upon the
practice, whether a real or a supposed one; and we may fairly
say that under such principals as Shairp, Tulloch, Campbell,
Barclay, who now adorn the Scottish universities, we have a
guarantee that such reports must continue to be Reminiscence
and traditional only.
FOOTNOTES:
[42] Bear.
[43] Rev. R. Scott of Cranwell.
[44] I have derived some information from a curious book, "Kay's
Portraits," 2 vols. The work is scarcely known in England, and is
becoming rare in Scotland. "Nothing can be more valuable in the way of
engraved portraits than these representations of the distinguished men
who adorned Edinburgh in the latter part of the eighteenth
century."--_Chambers_.
[45] Origin and Progress of Language.
[46] Douglas' Peerage, vol. i. p. 22.
[47] The version I have given of this amusing burlesque was revised by
the late Mr. Pagan, Cupar-Fife, and corrected from his own manuscript
copy, which he had procured from authentic sources about forty
years ago.
[48] His Lordship usually pronounced _I am_--_Aum_.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH.
ON HUMOUR PROCEEDING FROM SCOTTISH EXPRESSIONS, INCLUDING SCOTTISH
PROVERBS.
We come next to Reminiscences which are chiefly connected with
peculiarities of our Scottish LANGUAGE, whether contained in words or in
expressions. I am quite aware that the difference between the anecdotes
belonging to this division and to the last division termed "Wit and
Humour" is very indistinct, and must, in fact, in many cases, be quite
arbitrary. Much of what we enjoy most in Scottish stories is not on
account of wit properly so called, in the speaker, but I should say
rather from the odd and unexpected view which is taken of some matter,
or from the quaint and original turn of the expression made use of, or
from the simple and matter-of-fact reference made to circumstances which
are unusual. I shall not, therefore, be careful to preserve any strict
line of separation between this division and the next. Each is
conversant with what is amusing and with what is Scotch. What we have
now chiefly to illustrate by suitable anecdotes is peculiarities of
Scottish language--its various humorous turns and odd expressions.
We have now to consider stories where words and expressions, which are
peculiarly Scotch, impart the humour and the point. Sometimes they are
altogether incapable of being rendered in other language. As, for
example, a parishioner in an Ayrshire village, meeting his pastor, who
had just returned after a considerable absence on account of ill
health, congratulated him on his convalescence, and added, anticipatory
of the pleasure he would have in hearing him again, "I'm unco yuckie to
hear a blaud o' your gab." This is an untranslatable form of saying how
glad he should be to hear his minister's voice again speaking to him the
words of salvation and of peace from the pulpit.
The two following are good examples of that Scottish style of expression
which has its own character. They are kindly sent by Sir Archibald
Dunbar. The first illustrates Scottish acute discernment. A certain
titled lady, well known around her country town for her long-continued
and extensive charities, which are not withheld from those who least
deserve them, had a few years since, by the unexpected death of her
brother and of his only son, become possessor of a fine estate. The news
soon spread in the neighbourhood, and a group of old women were
overheard in the streets of Elgin discussing the fact. One of them said,
"Ay, she may prosper, for she has baith the prayers of the good and
of the bad."
The second anecdote is a delightful illustration of Mrs. Hamilton's
_Cottagers of Glenburnie_, and of the old-fashioned Scottish pride in
the _midden_. About twenty years ago, under the apprehension of cholera,
committees of the most influential inhabitants of the county of Moray
were formed to enforce a more complete cleansing of its towns and
villages, and to induce the cottagers to remove their dunghills or
dung-pits from too close a proximity to their doors or windows. One
determined woman, on the outskirts of the town of Forres, no doubt with
her future potato crop in view, met the M.P. who headed one of these
committees, thus, "Noo, Major, ye may tak our lives, but ye'll no tak
our middens."
The truth is, many of the peculiarities which marked Scottish society
departed with the disuse of the Scottish dialect in the upper ranks. I
recollect a familiar example of this, which I may well term a
Reminiscence. At a party assembled in a county house, the Earl of Elgin
(grandfather of the present Earl) came up to the tea-table, where Mrs.
Forbes of Medwyn, one of the finest examples of the past Scottish
_lady_, was sitting, evidently much engaged with her occupation. "You
are fond of your tea, Mrs. Forbes?" The reply was quite a characteristic
one, and a pure reminiscence of such a place and such interlocutors;
"'Deed, my Lord, I wadna gie my tea for your yerldom."
My aunt, the late Lady Burnett of Leys, was one of the class of Scottish
ladies I have referred to;--thoroughly a good woman and a gentlewoman,
but in dialect quite Scottish. For example, being shocked at the sharp
Aberdonian pronunciation adopted by her children, instead of the broader
Forfarshire model in which she had been brought up, she thus adverted to
their manner of calling the _floor_ of the room where they were playing:
"What gars ye ca' it '_fleer_?' canna ye ca' it '_flure_?' But I needna
speak; Sir Robert winna let me correc' your language."
In respect of language, no doubt, a very important change has taken
place in Scotland during the last seventy years, and which, I believe,
influences, in a greater degree than many persons would imagine, the
turn of thought and general modes and aspects of society. In losing the
old racy Scottish tongue, it seems as if much originality of _character_
was lost. I suppose at one time the two countries of England and
Scotland were considered as almost speaking different languages, and I
suppose also, that from the period of the union of the crowns the
language has been assimilating. We see the process of assimilation going
on, and ere long amongst persons of education and birth very little
difference will be perceptible. With regard to that class, a great
change has taken place in my own time. I recollect old Scottish ladies
and gentlemen who really _spoke Scotch_. It was not, mark me, speaking
English with an accent. No; it was downright Scotch. Every tone and
every syllable was Scotch. For example, I recollect old Miss Erskine of
Dun, a fine specimen of a real lady, and daughter of an ancient Scottish
house, so speaking. Many people now would not understand her. She was
always _the lady_, notwithstanding her dialect, and to none could the
epithet vulgar be less appropriately applied. I speak of more than forty
years ago, and yet I recollect her accost to me as well as if it were
yesterday: "I didna ken ye were i' the toun." Taking word and accents
together, an address how totally unlike what we now meet with in
society. Some of the old Scottish words which we can remember are
charming; but how strange they would sound to the ears of the present
generation! Fancy that in walking from church, and discussing the
sermon, a lady of rank should now express her opinion of it by the
description of its being, "but a hummelcorn discourse." Many living
persons can remember Angus old ladies who would say to their nieces and
daughters, "Whatna hummeldoddie o' a mutch hae ye gotten?" meaning a
flat and low-crowned cap. In speaking of the dryness of the soil on a
road in Lanarkshire, a farmer said, "It stoors in an oor[49]." How would
this be as tersely translated into English? The late Duchess of Gordon
sat at dinner next an English gentleman who was carving, and who made it
a boast that he was thoroughly master of the Scottish language. Her
Grace turned to him and said, "Rax me a spaul o' that bubbly jock[50]."
The unfortunate man was completely _nonplussed_. A Scottish gentleman
was entertaining at his house an English cousin who professed himself as
rather knowing in the language of the north side of the Tweed. He asked
him what he supposed to be the meaning of the expression, "ripin the
ribs[51]." To which he readily answered, "Oh, it describes a very fat
man." I profess myself an out-and-out Scotchman. I have strong national
partialities--call them if you will national prejudices. I cherish a
great love of old Scottish language. Some of our pure Scottish ballad
poetry is unsurpassed in any language for grace and pathos. How
expressive, how beautiful are its phrases! You can't translate them.
Take an example of power in a Scottish expression, to describe with
tenderness and feeling what is in human life. Take one of our most
familiar phrases; as thus:--We meet an old friend, we talk over bygone
days, and remember many who were dear to us both, once bright, and
young, and gay, of whom some remain, honoured, prosperous, and happy--of
whom some are under a cloud of misfortune or disgrace--some are broken
in health and spirits--some sunk into the grave; we recall old familiar
places--old companions, pleasures, and pursuits; as Scotchmen our
hearts are touched with these remembrances of
AULD LANG SYNE.
Match me the phrase in English. You can't translate it. The fitness and
the beauty lie in the felicity of the language. Like many happy
expressions, it is not transferable into another tongue, just like the
"simplex munditiis" of Horace, which describes the natural grace of
female elegance, or the [Greek: achaexithmon gelasma] of Æschylus, which
describes the bright sparkling of the ocean in the sun.
I think the power of Scottish dialect was happily exemplified by the
late Dr. Adam, rector of the High School of Edinburgh, in his
translation of the Horatian expression "desipere in loco," which he
turned by the Scotch phrase "Weel-timed daffin';" a translation,
however, which no one but a Scotchman could appreciate. The following
humorous Scottish translation of an old Latin aphorism has been assigned
to the late Dr. Hill of St. Andrews: "_Qui bene cepit dimidium facti
fecit_" the witty Principal expressed in Scotch, "Weel saipet (well
soaped) is half shaven."
What mere _English_ word could have expressed a distinction so well in
such a case as the following? I heard once a lady in Edinburgh objecting
to a preacher that she did not understand him. Another lady, his great
admirer, insinuated that probably he was too "deep" for her to follow.
But her ready answer was, "Na, na, he's no just deep, but he's
_drumly_[52]"
We have a testimony to the value of our Scottish language from a late
illustrious Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh, the force and
authority of which no one will be disposed to question. Lord Brougham,
in speaking of improvements upon the English language, makes these
striking remarks:--
"The pure and classical language of Scotland must on no account be
regarded as a provincial dialect, any more than French was so regarded
in the reign of Henry V., or Italian in that of the first Napoleon, or
Greek under the Roman Empire. Nor is it to be in any manner of way
considered as a corruption of the Saxon; on the contrary, it contains
much of the old and genuine Saxon, with an intermixture from the
Northern nations, as Danes and Norse, and some, though a small portion,
from the Celtic. But in whatever way composed, or from whatever sources
arising, it is a national language, used by the whole people in their
early years, by many learned and gifted persons throughout life, and in
which are written the laws of the Scotch, their judicial proceedings,
their ancient history; above all, their poetry.
"There can be no doubt that the English language would greatly gain by
being enriched with a number both of words and of phrases, or turns of
expression, now peculiar to the Scotch. It was by such a process that
the Greek became the first of tongues, as well written as spoken....
"Would it not afford means of enriching and improving the English
language, if full and accurate glossaries of improved Scotch words and
phrases--those successfully used by the best writers, both in prose and
verse--were given, with distinct explanation and reference to
authorities? This has been done in France and other countries, where
some dictionaries accompany the English, in some cases with Scotch
synonyms, in others with varieties of expression."--_Installation
Address_, p. 63.
The Scotch, as a people, from their more guarded and composed method of
speaking, are not so liable to fall into that figure of speech for which
our Irish neighbours are celebrated--usually called the Bull; some
specimens, however, of that confusion of thought, very like a bull, have
been recorded of Scottish interlocutors.
Of this the two following examples have been sent to me by a kind
friend.
It is related of a Scottish judge (who has supplied several anecdotes of
Scottish stories), that on going to consult a dentist, who, as is usual,
placed him in the professional chair, and told his lordship that he must
let him put his fingers into his mouth, he exclaimed, "Na! na! ye'll
aiblins _bite me_."
A Scottish laird, singularly enough the grandson of the learned judge
mentioned above, when going his round to canvass for the county, at the
time when the electors were chiefly confined to resident proprietors,
was asked at one house where he called if he would not take some
refreshment, hesitated, and said, "I doubt it's treating, and may be
ca'd _bribery_."
But a still more amusing specimen of this figure of speech was supplied
by an honest Highlander, in the days of sedan chairs. For the benefit of
my young readers I may describe the sedan chair as a comfortable little
carriage fixed to two poles, and carried by two men, one behind and one
before. A dowager lady of quality had gone out to dinner in one of these
"leathern conveniences," and whilst she herself enjoyed the hospitality
of the mansion up-stairs, her bearers were profusely entertained
downstairs, and partook of the abundant refreshment offered to them.
When my lady was to return, and had taken her place in the sedan, her
bearers raised the chair, but she found no progress was made--she felt
herself sway first to one side, then to the other, and soon came bump
upon the ground, when Donald behind was heard shouting to Donald before
(for the bearers of sedans were always Highlanders), "Let her down,
Donald, man, _for she's drunk_."
I cannot help thinking that a change of national language involves to
some extent change of national character. Numerous examples of great
power in Scottish Phraseology, to express the picturesque, the feeling,
the wise, and the humorous, might be taken from the works of Robert
Burns, Ferguson, or Allan Ramsay, and which lose their charms altogether
when _unscottified_. The speaker certainly seems to take a strength and
character from his words. We must now look for specimens of this racy
and expressive tongue in the more retired parts of the country. It is no
longer to be found in high places. It has disappeared from the social
circles of our cities. I cannot, however, omit calling my reader's
attention to a charming specimen of Scottish prose and of Scottish
humour of our own day, contained in a little book, entitled
"_Mystifications_" by Clementina Stirling Graham. The scenes described
in that volume are matters of pleasing reminiscence, and to some of us
who still remain "will recall that blithe and winning face, sagacious
and sincere, that kindly, cheery voice, that rich and quiet laugh, that
mingled sense and sensibility, which met, and still to our happiness
meet, in her who, with all her gifts, never gratified her consciousness
of these powers so as to give pain to any human being[53]." These
words, written more than ten years ago, might have been penned
yesterday; and those who, like myself, have had the privilege of seeing
the authoress presiding in her beautiful mansion of Duntrune, will not
soon forget how happy, how gracious, and how young, old age may be.
"No fears to beat away--no strife to heal;
The past unsighed for, and the future sure."
In my early days the intercourse with the peasantry of Forfarshire,
Kincardineshire, and especially Deeside, was most amusing--not that the
things said were so much out of the common, as that the language in
which they were conveyed was picturesque, and odd, and taking. And
certainly it does appear to me that as the language grows more uniform
and conventional, less marked and peculiar in its dialect and
expressions, so does the character of those who speak it become so. I
have a rich sample of Mid-Lothian Scotch from a young friend in the
country, who describes the conversation of an old woman on the property
as amusing her by such specimens of genuine Scottish raciness and
humour. On one occasion, for instance, the young lady had told her
humble friend that she was going to Ireland, and would have to undergo a
sea voyage. "Weel, noo, ye dinna mean that! Ance I thocht to gang across
to tither side o' the Queensferry wi' some ither folks to a fair, ye
ken; but juist whene'er I pat my fit in the boat, the boat gae wallop,
and my heart gae a loup, and I thocht I'd gang oot o' my judgment
athegither; so says I, Na, na, ye gang awa by yoursells to tither side,
and I'll bide here till sic times as ye come awa back." When we hear
our Scottish language at home, and spoken by our own countrymen, we are
not so much struck with any remarkable effects; but it takes a far more
impressive character when heard amongst those who speak a different
tongue, and when encountered in other lands. I recollect hearing the
late Sir Robert Liston expressing this feeling in his own case. When our
ambassador at Constantinople, some Scotchmen had been recommended to him
for a purpose of private or of government business; and Sir Robert was
always ready to do a kind thing for a countryman. He found them out in a
barber's shop, waiting for being shaved in turn. One came in rather
late, and seeing he had scarcely room at the end of the seat, addressed
his countryman, "Neebour, wad ye sit a bit _wast_?" What strong
associations must have been called up, by hearing in an eastern land
such an expression in Scottish tones.
We may observe here, that marking the course any person is to take, or
the direction in which any object is to be met with, by the points of
the compass, was a prevailing practice amongst the older Scottish race.
There could hardly be a more ludicrous application of the test, than was
furnished by an honest Highlander in describing the direction which his
medicine would _not_ take. Jean Gumming of Altyre, who, in common with
her three sisters, was a true soeur de charité, was one day taking her
rounds as usual, visiting the poor sick, among whom there was a certain
Donald MacQueen, who had been some time confined to his bed. Miss
Gumming, after asking him how he felt, and finding that he was "no
better," of course inquired if he had taken the medicine which she had
sent him; "Troth no, me lady," he replied. "But why not, Donald?" she
answered; "it was _very wrong_; how can you expect to get better if you
do not help yourself with the remedies which heaven provides for you?"
"_V_right or _V_rang," said Donald, "it wadna gang _wast_ in spite o'
me." In all the north country, it is always said, "I'm ganging east or
west," etc., and it happened that Donald on his sick bed was lying east
and west, his feet pointing to the latter direction, hence his reply to
indicate that he could not swallow the medicine!
We may fancy the amusement of the officers of a regiment in the West
Indies, at the innocent remark of a young lad who had just joined from
Scotland. On meeting at dinner, his salutation to his Colonel was,
"Anither het day, Cornal," as if "het days" were in Barbadoes few and
far between, as they were in his dear old stormy cloudy Scotland. Or
take the case of a Scottish saying, which indicated at once the dialect
and the economical habits of a hardy and struggling race. A young
Scotchman, who had been some time in London, met his friend recently
come up from the north to pursue his fortune in the great metropolis. On
discussing matters connected with their new life in London, the more
experienced visitor remarked upon the greater _expenses_ there than in
the retired Scottish town which they had left. "Ay," said the other,
sighing over the reflection, "when ye get cheenge for a saxpence here,
it's soon slippit awa'." I recollect a story of my father's which
illustrates the force of dialect, although confined to the inflections
of a single monosyllable. On riding home one evening, he passed a
cottage or small farm-house, where there was a considerable assemblage
of people, and an evident incipient merry-making for some festive
occasion. On asking one of the lasses standing about, what it was, she
answered, "Ou, it's just a wedding o' Jock Thamson and Janet Frazer." To
the question, "Is the bride rich?" there was a plain quiet "Na." "Is she
young?" a more emphatic and decided "Naa!" but to the query, "Is she
bonny?" a most elaborate and prolonged shout of "Naaa!"
It has been said that the Scottish dialect is peculiarly powerful in its
use of _vowels_, and the following dialogue between a shopman and a
customer has been given as a specimen. The conversation relates to a
plaid hanging at the shop door--
_Cus_. (inquiring the material), Oo? (wool?)
_Shop_. Ay, oo (yes, of wool).
_Cus_. A' oo? (all wool?)
_Shop_. Ay, a' oo (yes, all wool).
_Cus_. A' ae oo? (all same wool?)
_Shop_. Ay a' ae oo (yes, all same wool).
An amusing anecdote of a pithy and jocular reply, comprised in one
syllable, is recorded of an eccentric legal Scottish functionary of the
last century. An advocate, of whose professional qualifications he had
formed rather a low estimate, was complaining to him of being passed
over in a recent appointment to the bench, and expressed his sense of
the injustice with which he had been treated. He was very indignant at
his claims and merit being overlooked in their not choosing him for the
new judge, adding with much acrimony, "And I can tell you they might
have got a 'waur[54].'" To which, as if merely coming over the
complainant's language again, the answer was a grave "Whaur[55]?" The
merit of the impertinence was, that it sounded as if it were merely a
repetition of his friend's last words, waur and whaur. It was as if
"_echo_ answered whaur?" As I have said, the oddity and acuteness of
the speaker arose from the manner of expression, not from the thing
said. In fact, the same thing said in plain English would be mere
commonplace. I recollect being much amused with a dialogue between a
late excellent relative of mine and his man, the chief manager of a farm
which he had just taken, and, I suspect in a good measure manager of the
_farmer_ as well. At any rate he committed to this acute overseer all
the practical details; and on the present occasion had sent him to
market to dispose of a cow and a pony, a simple enough transaction, and
with a simple enough result. The cow was, brought back, the pony was
sold. But the man's description of it forms the point. "Well, John, have
you sold the cow?" "Na, but I _grippit_ a chiel for the powny!"
"_Grippit_" was here most expressive. Indeed, this word has a
significance hardly expressed by any English one, and used to be very
prevalent to indicate keen and forcible tenacity of possession; thus a
character noted for avarice or sharp looking to self-interest was termed
"grippy." In mechanical contrivances, anything taking a close adherence
was called having a gude _grip_. I recollect in boyish days, when on
Deeside taking wasp-nests, an old man looking on was sharply stung by
one, and his description was, "Ane o' them's grippit me fine." The
following had an indescribable piquancy, which arose from the
_Scotticism_ of the terms and the manners. Many years ago, when
accompanying a shooting party on the Grampians, not with a gun like the
rest, but with a botanical box for collecting specimens of mountain
plants, the party had got very hot, and very tired, and very cross. On
the way home, whilst sitting down to rest, a gamekeeper sort of
attendant, and a character in his way, said, "I wish I was in the
dining-room of Fasque." Our good cousin the Rev. Mr. Wilson, minister
of Farnel, who liked well a quiet shot at the grouse, rather testily
replied, "Ye'd soon be _kickit_ out o' that;" to which the other
replied, not at all daunted, "Weel, weel, then I wadna be far frae the
kitchen." A quaint and characteristic reply I recollect from another
farm-servant. My eldest brother had just been constructing a piece of
machinery which was driven by a stream of water running through the home
farmyard. There was a thrashing machine, a winnowing machine, and
circular saw for splitting trees into paling, and other contrivances of
a like kind. Observing an old man, who had long been about the place,
looking very attentively at all that was going on, he said, "Wonderful
things people can do now, Robby!" "Ay," said Robby; "indeed, Sir
Alexander, I'm thinking gin Solomon were alive noo he'd be thocht
naething o'!"
The two following derive their force entirely from the Scottish turn of
the expressions. Translated into English, they would lose all point--at
least, much of the point which they now have:--
At the sale of an antiquarian gentleman's effects in Roxburghshire,
which Sir Walter Scott happened to attend, there was one little article,
a Roman _patina_, which occasioned a good deal of competition, and was
eventually knocked down to the distinguished baronet at a high price.
Sir Walter was excessively amused during the time of bidding to observe
how much it excited the astonishment of an old woman, who had evidently
come there to buy culinary utensils on a more economical principle. "If
the parritch-pan," she at last burst out--"If the parritch-pan gangs at
that, what will the kail-pat gang for?"
An ancestor of Sir Walter Scott joined the Stuart Prince in 1715, and,
with his brother, was engaged in that unfortunate adventure which ended
in a skirmish and captivity at Preston. It was the fashion of those
times for all persons of the rank of gentlemen to wear scarlet
waistcoats. A ball had struck one of the brothers, and carried part of
this dress into his body, and in this condition he was taken prisoner
with a number of his companions, and stripped, as was too often the
practice in those remorseless wars. Thus wounded, and nearly naked,
having only a shirt on, and an old sack about him, the ancestor of the
great poet was sitting, along with his brother and a hundred and fifty
unfortunate gentlemen, in a granary at Preston. The wounded man fell
sick, as the story goes, and vomited the scarlet cloth which the ball
had passed into the wound. "O man, Wattie," cried his brother, "if you
have a wardrobe in your wame, I wish you would vomit me a pair o'
breeks." But, after all, it was amongst the old ladies that the great
abundance of choice pungent Scottish expressions, such as you certainly
do not meet with in these days, was to be sought. In their position of
society, education either in England, or education conducted by English
teachers, has so spread in Scottish families, and intercourse with the
south has been so increased, that all these colloquial peculiarities are
fast disappearing. Some of the ladies of this older school felt some
indignation at the change which they lived to see was fast going on. One
of them being asked if an individual whom she had lately seen was
"Scotch," answered with some bitterness, "I canna say; ye a' speak sae
_genteel_ now that I dinna ken wha's Scotch." It was not uncommon to
find, in young persons, examples, some years ago, of an attachment to
the Scottish dialect, like that of the old lady. In the life of P.
Tytler, lately published, there is an account of his first return to
Scotland from a school in England. His family were delighted with his
appearance, manners, and general improvement; but a sister did not share
this pleasure unmixed, for being found in tears, and the remark being
made, "Is he not charming?" her reply was, in great distress, "Oh yes,
but he speaks English!"
The class of old Scottish ladies, marked by so many peculiarities,
generally lived in provincial towns, and never dreamt of going from
home. Many had never been in London, or had even crossed the Tweed. But
as Lord Cockburn's experience goes back further than mine, and as he had
special opportunities of being acquainted with their characteristic
peculiarities, I will quote his animated description at page 57 of his
_Memorials_. "There was a singular race of old Scotch ladies. They were
a delightful set--strong-headed, warm-hearted, and high-spirited--merry
even in solitude; very resolute; indifferent about the modes and habits
of the modern world, and adhering to their own ways, so as to stand out
like primitive rocks above ordinary society. Their prominent qualities
of sense, humour, affection, and spirit, were embodied in curious
outsides, for they all dressed, and spoke, and did exactly as they
chose. Their language, like their habits, entirely Scotch, but without
any other vulgarity than what perfect naturalness is sometimes
mistaken for[56]."
This is a masterly description of a race now all but passed away. I have
known several of them in my early days; and amongst them we must look
for the racy Scottish peculiarities of diction and of expression which,
with them, are also nearly gone. Lord Cockburn has given some
illustrations of these peculiarities; and I have heard others,
especially connected with Jacobite partialities, of which I say nothing,
as they are in fact rather _strong_ for such a work as this. One,
however, I heard lately as coming from a Forfarshire old lady of this
class, which bears upon the point of "resolute" determination referred
to in the learned judge's description. She had been very positive in the
disclaiming of some assertion which had been attributed to her, and on
being asked if she had not written it, or something very like it, she
replied, "Na, na; I never _write_ onything of consequence--I may deny
what I say, but I canna deny what I write."
Mrs. Baird of Newbyth, the mother of our distinguished countryman the
late General Sir David Baird, was always spoken of as a grand specimen
of the class. When the news arrived from India of the gallant but
unfortunate action of '84 against Hyder Ali, in which her son, then
Captain Baird, was engaged, it was stated that he and other officers had
been taken prisoners and chained together two and two. The friends were
careful in breaking such sad intelligence to the mother of Captain
Baird. When, however, she was made fully to understand the position of
her son and his gallant companions, disdaining all weak and useless
expressions of her own grief, and knowing well the restless and athletic
habits of her son, all she said was, "Lord pity the chiel that's chained
to our Davie!"
It is only due to the memory of "our Davie," however, to add that the
"chiel" to whom he was chained, had, in writing home to his friends,
borne the highest testimony to the kindness and consideration of Captain
Baird, which he exercised towards him in this uncomfortable alliance.
General Baird was a first-rate officer, and a fine noble character. He
left home for active service so soon (before he was fifteen) that his
education had necessarily been very imperfect. This deficiency he had
always himself through life deeply regretted. A military friend, and
great admirer of Sir David, used jocularly to tell a story of him--that
having finished the despatch which must carry home the news of his great
action, the capture of Seringapatam, as he was preparing to sign it in
great form, he deliberately took off his coat. "Why do you take off your
coat?" said his friend. To which the General quietly answered, "Oh, it's
to turn the muckle D in Dauvid."
The ladies of this class had certainly no affectation in speaking of
those who came under their displeasure, even when life and death were
concerned. I had an anecdote illustrative of this characteristic in a
well-known old lady of the last century, Miss Johnstone of Westerhall.
She had been extremely indignant that, on the death of her brother, his
widow had proposed to sell off the old furniture of Westerhall. She was
attached to it from old associations, and considered the parting with it
little short of sacrilege. The event was, however, arrested by death,
or, as she describes the result, "The furniture was a' to be roupit, and
we couldna persuade her. But before the sale cam on, in God's gude
providence she just clinkit aff hersell." Of this same Miss Johnstone
another characteristic anecdote has been preserved in the family. She
came into possession of Hawkhill, near Edinburgh, and died there. When
dying, a tremendous storm of rain and thunder came on, so as to shake
the house. In her own quaint eccentric spirit, and with no thought of
profane or light allusions, she looked up, and, listening to the storm,
quietly remarked, in reference to her departure, "Ech, sirs! what a
nicht for me to be fleein' through the air!" Of fine acute sarcasm I
recollect hearing an expression from a _modern_ sample of the class, a
charming character, but only to a certain degree answering to the
description of the _older_ generation. Conversation turning, and with
just indignation, on the infidel remarks which had been heard from a
certain individual, and on his irreverent treatment of Holy Scripture,
all that this lady condescended to say of him was, "Gey impudent of
him, I think."
A recorded reply of old Lady Perth to a French gentleman is quaint and
characteristic. They had been discussing the respective merits of the
cookery of each country. The Frenchman offended the old Scottish peeress
by some disparaging remarks on Scottish dishes, and by highly preferring
those of France. All she would answer was, "Weel, weel, some fowk like
parritch and some like paddocks[57]."
Of this older race--the ladies who were, aged, fifty years ago--no
description could be given in bolder or stronger outline than that which
I have quoted from Lord Cockburn. I would pretend to nothing more than
giving a few further illustrative details from my own experience, which
may assist the representation by adding some practical realities to
the picture.
Several of them whom I knew in my early days certainly answered to many
of the terms made use of by his lordship. Their language and expressions
had a zest and peculiarity which are gone, and which would not, I fear,
do for modern life and times.
I have spoken of Miss Erskine of Dun, which is near Montrose. She,
however, resided in Edinburgh. But those I knew best had lived many
years in the then retired society of a country town. Some were my own
relations; and in boyish days (for they had not generally much patience
with boys) were looked up to with considerable awe as very formidable
personages. Their characters and modes of expression in many respects
remarkably corresponded with Lord Cockburn's idea of the race. There was
a dry Scottish humour which we fear their successors do not inherit. One
of these Montrose ladies, Miss Nelly Fullerton, had many anecdotes told
of her quaint ways and sayings. Walking in the street one day, slippery
from frost, she fairly fell down. A young officer with much politeness
came forward and picked her up, earnestly asking her at the same time,
"I hope ma'am, you are no worse?" to which she very drily answered,
looking at him very steadily, "'Deed, sir, I'm just as little the
better." A few days after, she met her military supporter in a shop. He
was a fine tall youth, upwards of six feet high, and by way of making
some grateful recognition for his late polite attention, she eyed him
from head to foot, and as she was of the opinion of the old Scotch lady
who declared she "aye liked bonny fowk," she viewed her young friend
with much satisfaction, but which she only evinced by the quaint remark,
"Od, ye're a lang lad; God gie ye grace."
I had from a relative or intimate friend of two sisters of this school,
well known about Glasgow, an odd account of what it seems, from their
own statement, had passed between them at a country house, where they
had attended a sale by auction. As the business of the day went on, a
dozen of silver spoons had to be disposed of; and before they were put
up for competition, they were, according to the usual custom, handed
round for inspection to the company. When returned into the hands of
the auctioneer, he found only eleven. In great wrath, he ordered the
door to be shut, that no one might escape, and insisted on every one
present being searched to discover the delinquent. One of the sisters,
in consternation, whispered to the other, "Esther, ye hae nae gotten the
spune?" to which she replied, "Na; but I hae gotten Mrs. Siddons in my
pocket." She had been struck by a miniature of the great actress, and
had quietly pocketed it. The cautious reply of the sister was, "Then
just drop her, Esther." One of the sisterhood, a connection of my own,
had much of this dry Scottish humour. She had a lodging in the house of
a respectable grocer; and on her niece most innocently asking, "if she
was not very fond of her landlord," in reference to the excellence of
her apartments and the attention he paid to her comfort, she demurred to
the question on the score of its propriety, by replying, "Fond of my
landlord! that would be an _unaccountable_ fondness."