DAVIT LUNAN'S POLITICAL REMINISCENCES
When an election-day comes round now, it takes me back to the time of
1832. I would be eight or ten year old at the time. James Strachan
was at the door by five o'clock in the morning in his Sabbath clothes,
by arrangement. We was to go up to the hill to see them building the
bonfire. Moreover, there was word that Mr. Scrimgour was to be there
tossing pennies, just like at a marriage. I was wakened before that by
my mother at the pans and bowls. I have always associated elections
since that time with jelly-making; for just as my mother would fill the
cups and tankers and bowls with jelly to save cans, she was emptying
the pots and pans to make way for the ale and porter. James and me was
to help to carry it home from the square--him in the pitcher and me in
a flagon, because I was silly for my age and not strong in the arms.
It was a very blowy morning, though the rain kept off, and what part of
the bonfire had been built already was found scattered to the winds.
Before we rose a great mass of folk was getting the barrels and things
together again; but some of them was never recovered, and suspicion
pointed to William Geddes, it being well known that William would not
hesitate to carry off anything if unobserved. More by token Chirsty
Lamby had seen him rolling home a barrowful of firewood early in the
morning, her having risen to hold cold water in her mouth, being down
with the toothache. When we got up to the hill everybody was making
for the quarry, which being more sheltered was now thought to be a
better place for the bonfire. The masons had struck work, it being a
general holiday in the whole country-side. There was a great commotion
of people, all fine dressed and mostly with glengarry bonnets; and me
and James was well acquaint with them, though mostly weavers and the
like and not my father's equal. Mr. Scrimgour was not there himself;
but there was a small active body in his room as tossed the money for
him fair enough; though not so liberally as was expected, being mostly
ha'pence where pennies was looked for. Such was not my father's
opinion, and him and a few others only had a vote. He considered it
was a waste of money giving to them that had no vote and so taking out
of other folks' mouths, but the little man said it kept everybody in
good-humour and made Mr. Scrimgour popular. He was an extraordinary
affable man and very spirity, running about to waste no time in
walking, and gave me a shilling, saying to me to be a truthful boy and
tell my father. He did not give James anything, him being an orphan,
but clapped his head and said he was a fine boy.
The Captain was to vote for the Bill if he got in, the which he did.
It was the Captain was to give the ale and porter in the square like a
true gentleman. My father gave a kind of laugh when I let him see my
shilling, and said he would keep care of it for me; and sorry I was I
let him get it, me never seeing the face of it again to this day. Me
and James was much annoyed with the women, especially Kitty Davie,
always pushing in when there was tossing, and tearing the very ha'pence
out of our hands: us not caring so much about the money, but humiliated
to see women mixing up in politics. By the time the topmost barrel was
on the bonfire there was a great smell of whisky in the quarry, it
being a confined place. My father had been against the bonfire being
in the quarry, arguing that the wind on the hill would have carried off
the smell of the whisky; but Peter Tosh said they did not want the
smell carried off; it would be agreeable to the masons for weeks to
come. Except among the women there was no fighting nor wrangling at
the quarry but all in fine spirits.
I misremember now whether it was Mr. Scrimgour or the Captain that took
the fancy to my father's pigs; but it was this day, at any rate, that
the Captain sent him the gamecock. Whichever one it was that fancied
the litter of pigs, nothing would content him but to buy them, which he
did at thirty shillings each, being the best bargain ever my father
made. Nevertheless I'm thinking he was windier of the cock. The
Captain, who was a local man when not with his regiment, had the
grandest collection of fighting-cocks in the county, and sometimes came
into the town to try them against the town cocks. I mind well the
large wicker cage in which they were conveyed from place to place, and
never without the Captain near at hand. My father had a cock that beat
all the other town cocks at the cock fight at our school, which was
superintended by the elder of the kirk to see fair play; but the which
died of its wounds the next day but one. This was a great grief to my
father, it having been challenged to fight the Captain's cock.
Therefore it was very considerate of the Captain to make my father a
present of his bird; father, in compliment to him, changing its name
from the "Deil" to the "Captain."
During the forenoon, and I think until well on in the day, James and me
was busy with the pitcher and the flagon. The proceedings in the
square, however, was not so well conducted as in the quarry, many of
the folk there assembled showing a mean and grasping spirit. The
Captain had given orders that there was to be no stint of ale and
porter, and neither there was; but much of it lost through hastiness.
Great barrels was hurled into the middle of the square, where the
country wives sat with their eggs and butter on market-day, and was
quickly stove in with an axe or paving-stone or whatever came handy.
Sometimes they would break into the barrel at different points; and
then, when they tilted it up to get the ale out at one hole, it gushed
out at the bottom till the square was flooded. My mother was fair
disgusted when told by me and James of the waste of good liquor. It is
gospel truth I speak when I say I mind well of seeing Singer Davie
catching the porter in a pan as it ran down the sire, and, when the pan
was full to overflowing, putting his mouth to the stream and drinking
till he was as full as the pan. Most of the men, however, stuck to the
barrels, the drink running in the street being ale and porter mixed,
and left it to the women and the young folk to do the carrying. Susy
M'Queen brought as many pans as she could collect on a barrow, and was
filling them all with porter, rejecting the ale; but indignation was
aroused against her, and as fast as she filled, the others emptied.
My father scorned to go to the square to drink ale and porter with the
crowd, having the election on his mind and him to vote. Nevertheless
he instructed me and James to keep up a brisk trade with the pans, and
run back across the gardens in case we met dishonest folk in the
streets who might drink the ale. Also, said my father, we was to let
the excesses of our neighbours be a warning in sobriety to us; enough
being as good as a feast, except when you can store it up for the
winter. By and by my mother thought it was not safe me being in the
streets with so many wild men about, and would have sent James himself,
him being an orphan and hardier; but this I did not like, but, running
out, did not come back for long enough. There is no doubt that the
music was to blame for firing the men's blood, and the result most
disgraceful fighting with no object in view. There was three fiddlers
and two at the flute, most of them blind, but not the less dangerous on
that account; and they kept the town in a ferment, even playing the
countryfolk home to the farms, followed by bands of townsfolk. They
were a quarrelsome set, the ploughmen and others; and it was generally
admitted in the town that their overbearing behaviour was responsible
for the fights. I mind them being driven out of the square, stones
flying thick; also some stand-up fights with sticks, and others fair
enough with fists. The worst fight I did not see. It took place in a
field. At first it was only between two who had been miscalling one
another; but there was many looking on, and when the town man was like
getting the worst of it the others set to, and a most heathenish fray
with no sense in it ensued. One man had his arm broken. I mind Hobart
the bellman going about ringing his bell and telling all persons to get
within doors; but little attention was paid to him, it being notorious
that Snecky had had a fight earlier in the day himself.
When James was fighting in the field, according to his own account, I
had the honour of dining with the electors who voted for the Captain,
him paying all expenses. It was a lucky accident my mother sending me
to the town-house, where the dinner came off, to try to get my father
home at a decent hour, me having a remarkable power over him when in
liquor but at no other time. They were very jolly, however, and
insisted on my drinking the Captain's health and eating more than was
safe. My father got it next day from my mother for this; and so would
I myself, but it was several days before I left my bed, completely
knocked up as I was with the excitement and one thing or another. The
bonfire, which was built to celebrate the election of Mr. Scrimgour,
was set ablaze, though I did not see it, in honour of the election of
the Captain; it being thought a pity to lose it, as no doubt it would
have been. That is about all I remember of the celebrated election of
'32 when the Reform Bill was passed.