The people of Edinburgh were regaled with the sight of a travelling
dromedary, probably the first that had ever come into Scotland. ‘It was
very big,’ says Nicoll, ‘of great height, and cloven-footed like a cow,
and on the back ane seat, as it were a saddle, to sit on.’ ‘Being kept
close in the Canongate, none had a sight of it without threepence the
person. There was brought in with it ane little baboon, faced like unto
an ape.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: JAN.]
[Sidenote: 1659.]
At this time the public received a great surprise in the sudden
reappearance of a nobleman, Lord Belhaven, who was understood to have
been dead for the last six years and upwards. At the forfeiture of the
Hamilton family under the English tyranny, Lord Belhaven found himself
engaged as security to the creditors of that house for a much larger
sum than he could pay; so, to escape comprisings of his lands and
imprisonment of his person, he fell upon an extraordinary expedient.
He took a journey to England, and when he had passed Solway Sands, he
caused his servant to come back to his wife with his cloak and hat, and
had it given out that he and his horse had sunk in the quicksands,
and were drowned. None were privy to the secret but his lady and the
servant. The report passed everywhere as authentic, and to make it
more plausible, his lady and children went in mourning for two years.
Passing into England, Lord Belhaven put on a mean suit of apparel,
hired himself to be a gardener, and worked at this humble employment
during the whole time of his absence, no one knowing this part of his
course but his lady. During his absence, his only son, ‘a very hopeful
youth and pretty scholar,’ was struck with a fever, which in a few
days carried him off. ‘In this real death by God’s hand, who will not
be mocked, the hope of that house perished.’--_Bail._ The Duchess of
Hamilton having at length come to a composition with her creditors, his
lordship returned to Scotland, and resumed his rank, ‘to the admiration
of many.’--_Nic._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: FEB. 9.]
The Countess of Buccleuch in her own right, a child of eleven years
of age, the greatest heiress of her time in Scotland, was married at
the place of Wester Wemyss in Fife, to Walter Scott, son of Scott
of Highchester, a youth of fourteen. These indecent nuptials were
performed, without proclamation, by virtue of an order from the
presbytery of Kirkcaldy, ‘purchased by the Earl of Wemyss and some of
the name of Scott:’ that is, obtained by their influence. The Countess
of Wemyss, ‘a witty, active woman,’[182] was mother of the bride.
‘This marriage was celebrate upon a great suddenty, few or none of
her friends made privy to it till the day before, which day they were
contracted. Many expected she should have got some great match (for
both Scots and English had an aim for her); but this youth, that her
mother (who was the only doer of this business) made choice of for
her daughter, was only one of her own vassal’s sons--namely, an oy
[grandson] of the Laird of Harden....’--_Lam._
[Sidenote: 1659.]
An unsuccessful attempt was made by Sir John Scott of Scotstarvet
to reduce the marriage, on the ground that he, her tutor, had not
consented. While the question hung suspended, for there existed then
no judicatory in Scotland, the young lady in August 1659 attained
the age of twelve, at which it was competent for her to effect a
marriage of her own will. She then accordingly emitted a declaration
of her marriage, and her husband meeting her at Leith, amidst great
demonstrations of joy, they went that same night to Dalkeith, to
commence married life.--_Nic._
This poor victim of the cupidity of her seniors was taken by her mother
next year to London, to be touched for the _cruels_ by the king, and
died in the next ensuing year, leaving the succession to her younger
sister Anne, who became the victim of an equally discreditable affair,
in being married while still a child to the king’s natural son, a boy,
subsequently Duke of Monmouth.
The marrying of heiresses under twelve years of age was a not
infrequent misdemeanour in the seventeenth century. ‘1st March 1677,
Trotter, Lady Craigleith, was fined at Secret Council, in 6000 merks,
for conveying away her daughter, heiress of Craigleith, and sending her
to Berwick, where she married young Prestongrange (Morison), and stayed
some two or three months, till she completed her twelve years of age,
after which the marriage could not be dissolved, nor she resile.... Her
maternal uncle, Mortonhall, was fined for his accession in 3000 merks,
and young Prestongrange in 1000 merks.’--_Foun._
In 1680, Patrick Carnegie, brother of the Earl of Northesk, was
prosecuted for conveying away Mary Gray, daughter of the Laird of
Baledgarnie, in the Carse of Gowrie, she being but eleven years and
one month old. ‘Some spoke harsh things, that if he could be got, he
deserved hanging, for ane example to secure men’s children from such
attempts.’ While Patrick escaped from justice, his assistants Kinfauns,
Finhaven, and Pitcur were sent to Edinburgh Castle, and ‘ordained,
under highest pains, to produce him who wounded the servant while he
was resisting their rapt: they came weel off, that their acknowledgment
of the fault was accepted instead of a fine.’--_Foun._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: MAR. 27.]
[Sidenote: 1659.]
Died this day, ‘sitting in his chair at his awn house, without any
preceding sickness,’ and but ‘little lamented’ (_Nic._), John Earl
of Traquair--a remarkable example of the mutabilities of fortune in
a period of civil broil and revolution. By cleverness and address,
unaccompanied by any nobler qualities, and by making himself useful
to Laud in his views for the reformation of the Scotch church, he had
risen from the condition of a private gentleman to titles, wealth, and
the office of Lord High Treasurer. Of his means and taste at the zenith
of his fortunes, the house of Traquair, with its formal avenues and
garden, is an interesting surviving monument. Clerical zeal ruined what
the skill of Traquair might have built up. The Service-book was pushed
on against his advice, and he could not control the storm. The most
conspicuous service he rendered after that period was to act as his
majesty’s commissioner to the Scottish parliament and General Assembly
of 1640. He did his best to maintain the royal authority, but all was
in vain. His subsequent conduct was not of a bold character; but there
is all reason to believe that he continued a loyalist and a friend
of Episcopacy at heart. Accompanying the army of the Engagement in
1648, along with a regiment of horse of his own raising, he was taken
prisoner at Preston, and committed to Warwick Castle, where he lay for
four years. For this final act of loyalty, the Covenanting parliament
forbade his return into Scotland. At length, when his country had been
taken into the hands of the English, he was liberated, and came home;
but it was to poverty and obscurity. His estate had been sequestered;
it was a time of general suffering and humiliation. Reflected on as
an instrument of the king and Laud in their arbitrary schemes, he
enjoyed respect from no party. In such circumstances, it is scarcely
surprising to be told, as we are on credible authority, that this once
great noble and state officer was reduced so low as to be beholden for
the necessaries of life to charity. ‘He would take an alms, though not
publicly ask for it,’ says the author of a work quoted below,[183]
where it is added: ‘There are some still alive at Peebles that have
seen him dine upon a salt herring and an onion.’ A worse humiliation
remained for him, if Nicoll be right in reporting that the earl was
(August 1655) ‘pannelled and accused before the Criminal Court for
perjury at the instance of his son-in-law.’[184]
The annotator on Scot’s _Staggering State of Scots Statesmen_, says
that at his burial this unfortunate nobleman ‘had no mort-cloth [pall],
but a black apron; nor towels, but leashes belonging to some gentlemen
that were present; and the grave being two feet shorter than his body,
the assistants behoved to stay till the same was enlarged, and he
buried.’
[Sidenote: 1659.