Three enterprising persons at Haddington, including William Lamb, one
of the bailies, and Mr James Lauder, sheriff-clerk, formed a project
for a twice-a-week stage-coach ‘to pass through the whole year betwixt
Edinburgh and Haddington, which will be of great conveniency for
travellers of all sorts who may have occasion to repair to Edinburgh
from the eastward.’[260] It was their resolution ‘to employ a
considerable stock of money for erecting the said stage-coaches, buying
of horses, and all other furniture requisite, in expectation of some
small profit by progress of time.’ Wherefore they petitioned for the
exclusive right to have stage-coaches upon that road. The right was
granted for seven years.--_P. C. R._
[Sidenote: JULY 29.]
[Sidenote: 1678.]
A very few months after this date, William Hume, merchant in Edinburgh,
appears to have set up a stage-coach between his own city and Glasgow,
encouraged thereto by the liberality of the two municipalities. The
city of Glasgow undertook to pay four hundred merks annually for two
years.--_M. of G._ Hume proposed that his conveyance should carry only
six passengers, at £4, 16s. Scots each in summer, and £5, 8s. in winter
(respectively 8s. and 9s. sterling), being at the rate of 2s. 8d. a
mile in summer, and 3s. in winter. The Privy Council, on his petition,
gave him an exclusive privilege for seven years, and assured him
against his horses being pressed for any kind of public service.--_P.
C. R._
These are the first conveniences of the kind we hear of as established
between one place and another in Scotland, except the coach between
Edinburgh and Leith, first in December 1610, and secondly in
September 1660 (which see). It is, however, probable that none of
all these enterprises proved successful, or was carried on for any
considerable length of time. A traveller in Scotland in 1688 tells us:
‘Stage-coaches they have none.... The truth is, the roads will hardly
allow them those conveniences, which is the reason that their gentry,
men and women, choose rather to use their horses. However, their great
men often travel with coach and six, but with so much caution, that,
besides their other attendance, they have a lusty running footman on
each side of the coach, to manage and keep it up in rough places.’ It
is added: ‘This carriage of persons from place to place might be better
spared, were there opportunities and means for the speedier conveyance
of business by letters. They have no horse-posts besides those which
ply betwixt Berwick and Edinburgh, and from thence to Port-Patrick for
the sake of the Irish packets.... From Edinburgh to Perth, and so to
other places, they use foot-posts and carriers, which, though a slow
way of communicating our concerns to one another, yet is such as they
acquiesce in till they have a better.’[261]
What makes it the more improbable that William Hume’s enterprise was
successful, notwithstanding the well-meant patronage of the Glasgow
magistrates, is that, in October 1743, the Town Council of the western
city was found considering a similar project of one John Walker,
merchant in Edinburgh, who proposed to ‘erect’ a stage-coach betwixt
the two cities, with six horses, and holding six passengers, to go
twice a week from the one to the other in summer, and once in winter.
The corporation was called upon to guarantee that as many as _two
hundred tickets_ should be sold each year. The proposal does not appear
to have been entertained.
[Sidenote: 1678.]
In 1749, a caravan--a kind of covered spring-cart--passed twice a
week from the one city to the other, taking a day and a half to the
journey!--_Strang._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: MAY 2.]
Two old women, belonging to the village of Prestonpans, were tried
for witchcraft by a commission, and, ‘on their confession, _no ways
extorted_, were burnt.’ Before their death, they gave information
regarding some other persons who, they said, were also witches; and,
one telling on another, there were in September as many as eight or ten
collected from the parishes of Ormiston, Pencaitland, and Crichton,
besides seven who belonged to Loanhead of Lasswade. The justices
shewed a disinclination to treat all these poor creatures as witches;
and Sir John Clerk of Pennicuik--first baronet of a family which
has produced many scholars, judges, antiquaries, and men of general
talent--declined to be upon the commission appointed for the seven of
Loanhead, ‘alleging drily that he did not feel himself warlock (that
is, conjuror) enough to be judge upon such an inquisition.’[262] The
leniency of the justices was cried out upon by some, as interfering
with the discovery of these enemies of mankind. As usually happened,
the accused made confession of guilt, telling much the same story of
intercourse with the devil, renouncing their baptism, and going about
in the form of ravens, &c., as was set forth by the witches of Auldearn
in 1661--a traditionary set of hallucinations, they may be called, the
uniformity of which ought in itself to have put judges sooner on their
guard against a misjudgment of these unfortunate beings. Fountainhall,
who conversed with a few of the present group, speaks somewhat
rationally about them, and it is evident he was inclined to regard
their adventures with the devil as mere dreams. ‘Only,’ he says, ‘in
these diabolic transports their sleep is so deep, that no pinching will
awake them scarce’--an intimation, some will think, of the sleep being
mesmeric. Sad to say, however, nine of the East Lothian women were
condemned on their confession, although seeming rational and penitent;
and were burnt, five between Edinburgh and Leith, and four at Painston,
while the seven of Loanhead were reserved for future procedure.
[Sidenote: 1678.]
The statement of this case has induced Fountainhall to mention one or
two others by way of digression. In the time of James VI., a Scottish
gentleman, being troubled with a disease, sought relief from a magician
in Italy, but was told he need not have come so far from home, as
there was a person in Scotland who could cure him, and this person he
particularly described, so that the gentleman might know him. Some
years after, being returned, the patient met, on the Bridge of Earn,
one to whom the description in every particular applied; and, having
accosted him, and asked for his aid, he was cured by this stranger with
a few simple herbs. The story being told, the curer of the disease
was prosecuted as a necromancer, in compact with the devil, and found
guilty, notwithstanding his protestation that the cure was natural, and
the devil’s having named or described him was no fault of his. In this
narration, the reader will recognise a story which has been told with
many variations, as to person, place, and circumstances, but always
with the assumption of what would now in certain circles be described
as an exercise of the power of _clairvoyance_ regarding a person
unknown and living at a great distance.
[Sidenote: 1678.]
The other story is even more curious in its details. Fountainhall
says: ‘As for the rencontre between Mr Williamson, schoolmaster at
Cupar (he has writ a grammar), and the Rosicrucians, I never trusted
it till I heard it from his own son, who is present minister of
Kirkcaldy.’ A stranger coming to Cupar called for Mr Williamson, and
they went to drink together at a tavern. When the reckoning came to
be paid, the stranger whistled for spirits, and one in the shape of a
boy came and gave him some gold. It is to be remarked that no servant
had been seen attending the stranger while riding into the town, or
at his inn. ‘He caused his spirits next day bring him noble Greek
wines from the pope’s cellar, and tell the freshest news then was at
Rome.’ Some time after, Mr Williamson, being in London, and passing
along London Bridge, heard himself called by name, and turning about,
discovered it was his Rosicrucian. At the request of the stranger,
he met him at dinner in a house to which he was directed, and there
found a magnificently spread table, with a company of good fashion,
all being served by spirits. The conversation turned on the advantage
of being served by spirits, and Mr Williamson was asked to join their
happy society; but he started back with dismay, when it was mentioned
as a necessary preliminary, that he should _abstract his spirit from
all materiality_, and renounce his baptism. In his alarm, he fell a
praying, whereupon they all disappeared. He was then in a new alarm,
dreading to have to pay a huge reckoning; but the boy who answered his
summons, told him that ‘there was nothing to pay, for they had done it,
and were gone about their affairs in the city.’ It is barely necessary
to remark to those who have seen and believed in the wonders of what is
called electro-biology, there is nothing in Mr Williamson’s case which
might not be explained on that principle--namely, a condition of brain
artificially produced, in which the suggestion of objects and events is
enough to make the patient believe them real.
After this date, witch-cases before the high court are rare, and there
had evidently set in a disrelish for such prosecutions. The fact may
reasonably be attributed in some degree to the publication, in 1677, of
Webster’s rational treatise, _The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: JULY 19.]
James Gray, a ‘litster,’ that is, dyer, in Dalkeith, went to Glasgow
in March this year as a lieutenant in the Midlothian Militia. He
there met, over a bottle, a young man, named Archibald Murray, son of
the Laird of Newton, and who was a trooper in the king’s Life Guard.
When heated with liquor, Gray began to boast that to be a lieutenant
under the Duke of Lauderdale was as good as to ride in the king’s
Life Guard--rather a petulant speech from a Dalkeith craftsman to the
son of a laird in its neighbourhood. Murray stormed and called him
a base fellow, to compare himself with gentlemen! They went out and
fought, and Gray soon returned, saying: ‘I trow I have pricked him,’
never imagining that he had taken the young man’s life. Such, however,
proved to be the case. Gray, who was a handsome, vigorous man, of
about fifty, was tried for the act, and much interest was felt in his
behalf, as it was believed that he had meant nothing like murder. Five
thousand merks were offered to the friends of the deceased, by way of
assythment. But all was in vain. On the day noted in the margin, ‘he
was beheaded, dying with courage, and declaring that ambition, leading
to discontents and quarrels, _joined to marrying an old woman_, had
ruined him.’--_Foun._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: AUG. 15.]
[Sidenote: 1678.]
Scotland now had a visitor of an extraordinary kind. In a petition
presented to the Privy Council, he described himself as Mercurius
Lascary, a Grecian priest, a native of the island of Samos. He stated
that himself, his brother Demetrius, who was also a priest, and two
sons, had been seized by night by Algerine pirates; and his brother
had now been detained for three years in a most miserable condition in
Barbary. Testimonials from the patriarch of Constantinople and various
Greek bishops confirmed this sad tale; and on his petition, a general
charitable contribution was ordered to be raised in his behalf.--_P. C.
R._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: SEP. 12.]
In the history of the introduction of the more refined arts into
Scotland, there is no reason why one so ingenious as _cabinet-making_
should not be included. We now first hear of it on the occasion of a
petition from one James Turner, styling himself ‘cabinet-maker and
mirror-glass maker.’ He having, as he says, ‘with much labour, pains,
and expenses, attained to the art of making cabinets, mirror-glasses,
dressing-boxes, chests of drawers, comb-boxes, and the like curious
work, of the finest olive and princes’ wood, not formerly practised by
any native of this country,’ had been peaceably exercising his craft,
when he was assailed by the deacon of the corporation of wrights as
an unfreeman. He had first been forbidden to work, and then they took
away his tools and materials. On his petition, however, he received the
protection of the Council.--_P. C. R._
Not long after (February 1682), we hear of a kindred trade as being
practised in Edinburgh. Hugh M‘Gie, _mirror-maker_ in the Canongate,
gave in a bill to the Privy Council, representing that, by the practice
of other nations, any tradesman having seven sons together, without the
intervention of a daughter, is declared free of all public burdens and
taxes, and has other encouragements bestowed on him, to enable him to
bring up the said children for the use and benefit of the commonwealth;
and claiming a similar privilege on the strength of his having that
qualification. The Council recommended the magistrates to take Hugh’s
seven sons into consideration when they laid their ‘stents’ upon
him.--_Foun._
Some years later (January 1685), Turner being again troubled by the
wrights’ corporation, the Privy Council, on his producing an essay
piece of ‘an indented cabinet and standishes,’ gave him a licence to
set up as a freeman.--_Foun. Dec._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: SEP. 13.]
[Sidenote: 1678.]
At Prestonpans dwelt a respectable old widow named Katharine Liddell,
or Keddie. During the late panic in East Lothian regarding witches,
she had been seized by John Rutherford, bailie of Prestonpans, as one
liable to suspicion of that crime. With the assistance of a drummer,
two salt-makers, and other persons, he barbarously tormented her in
prison in order to extort a confession, ‘by pricking of pins in several
parts of her body, to the great effusion of her blood, and whereby her
skin is raised and her body highly swelled, and she is in danger of her
life.’ She had also been kept from sleep for several nights and days.
It was not till she had undergone this treatment for six weeks, that
on her petition an order was obtained from the Privy Council for her
liberation.
There must have been some unusual force of character about Katharine
Liddell, for not only had she stood her tortures without confessing
falsehood, as most of her sister unfortunates did, but she turned upon
her tormentors by presenting a petition to the Council, in which she
charged them with defamation, false imprisonment, and open and manifest
oppression, and demanded that they should be exemplarily punished in
their persons and goods. After hearing the accused in answer, the
Council declared Liddell entirely innocent and free, and condemned
Rutherford and his associates for their unwarrantable proceedings.
In respect, however, of ‘the common error and vulgar practice of
others in the like station and capacity,’ they let him off without any
punishment. ‘David Cowan, pricker,’ the most active of the tormentors,
they sentenced to be confined during pleasure in the Tolbooth.--_P. C.
R._
* * * * *
[Sidenote: OCT.]
At this time, eighty persons were detained in prison in Edinburgh, on
account of matters of religion, waiting till they should be transported
as slaves to Barbadoes.[263]--_Foun. Dec._
In connection with this distressing fact may be placed one of a
different complexion, which Fountainhall states elsewhere. The
magistrates, he tells us, were sensible of the inadequacy of their
Old Tolbooth for the purposes of justice in these days of pious
zeal. Consequently, one Thomas Moodie leaving them twenty thousand
merks to build a church, they--declaring ‘they have no use for a
church’--offered to build with the money a new Tolbooth, above the West
Port, ‘and to put Thomas Moodie’s name and arms thereon!‘--_Foun_.
[Sidenote: 1678.]
In the entire history of the municipality of Edinburgh, this is _not
the worst_ of its attempts at the perversion of funds intended for
the building of a church. And it really appears that our ancestors
looked upon the building of a jail as a public act of some dignity and
importance. PATRIAE ET POSTERIS [for our country and posterity] is the
self-complacent inscription on the front of the Canongate Tolbooth.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: NOV. 13.]
A civil process of this date between Sir R. Hepburn of Keith and David
Borthwick his tenant, reveals the fact that lime was ‘the usual way of
improving and gooding land in East Lothian, at least in that corner of
it.’--_Foun. Dec_.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: 1679.]
So early as 1590 a foreigner came to Scotland, and applied for some
encouragement to his design of erecting a paper-work within the
kingdom.[264] There is reason to believe that this design proved
abortive, and that there was no further attempt at a native manufacture
of paper till 1675, when a work was established at Dalry Mills, a place
on the Water of Leith, in the immediate vicinity of Edinburgh. This
work obtained the benefit of an act passed in 1662, offering privileges
to those who should erect such manufactories within the kingdom, and
French workmen were introduced as necessary for the instruction of the
natives. After suffering a temporary stoppage in consequence of the
burning of the buildings, the work was again in such a condition in
1679, that it was able, according to the statement of its owners, to
produce ‘gray and blue paper much finer than ever this country formerly
offered to the Council.’
[Sidenote: MAR. 7.]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
At this date, Alexander Daes, merchant, one of the proprietors,
presented a petition setting forth how this work not only supplied good
paper, but promised another general usefulness in the ‘improvement of
rags, which formerly were put to no good use,’ and in the gathering
of which many poor and infirm people could make their bread: in the
work itself, moreover, ‘many Scotsmen and boys are already, and many
mo may be, instructed in the art of making paper.’ There was but one
thing wanting for the due encouragement of the work, and that was the
suppression of ‘a faulty custom, not practised anywhere else,’ of
employing fine rags in the making of wicks for candles. This custom, it
was alleged, involved a cheat to the lieges, in as far as these rags,
not exceeding eight or ten shillings (8d. or 10d. sterling) per stone
in value, formed part of the weight of the candles, of which the price
was three pounds ten shillings (5s. 10d. sterling). It was represented
that cotton-wicks should be employed, which, if dearer, were also
better, as they gave more light. Thus it was that, in those days,
hardened as every one was in the spirit of monopoly, one trade made
no scruple in interfering with another, if its own selfish ends could
thereby be advanced.
The Council did actually ‘discharge the candlemakers to make use of
clouts and rags for the wicks of candles.’
A subordinate branch of the petition for an extension of the time
during which the privileges granted by statute were to last, was
silently overlooked.--_P. C. R._
There is reason to conclude that this paper-mill was not continued, and
that paper-making was not successfully introduced into Scotland till
the middle of the succeeding century.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: JULY 11.]
Robert Mean, keeper of the letter-office in Edinburgh, was brought
before the Privy Council, accused of ‘sending up a _bye-letter_ with
the flying packet upon the twenty-two day of June last, giving ane
account to the postmaster of England of the defeat of the rebels in
the west, which was by the said postmaster communicated to the king
before it could have been done by his majesty’s secretary for Scotland,
and which letter contains several untruths in matter of fact.’
Notwithstanding an abject apology, Mean was sent to the Tolbooth, there
to remain during the Council’s pleasure.--_P. C. R._
Mr Mean’s office was at this time a somewhat critical one. On the 19th
of August 1680, he was imprisoned by a committee of the Privy Council
‘for publishing the news-letter before it was revised by a councillor
or their clerk; though he affirmed he had shewn it to the Earl of
Linlithgow before he divulged it.’ What offended them was a false piece
of intelligence contained in it, to the disparagement of the Duke of
Lauderdale. Robert was liberated in a day or two with a rebuke.[265]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
The bringing of the news of the defeat of the rebels at Bothwell
Bridge seems to have been looked upon as a matter of a high degree
of consequence. The instrument was one James Ker, a barber in the
Canongate, who acted as a messenger between the royal army and the
capital, under favour of the Chancellor Duke of Rothes, whom he had
perhaps attended professionally in Holyroodhouse. The lords of the
Privy Council were so over-joyed at the intelligence, that they
promised James some signal mark of their gratitude; and he soon after
asked them, by way of discharging the obligation, to get him entered as
a freeman in the city corporation of chirurgeons. They used influence
with the deacon of this important body to get Ker’s wish gratified; but
it could not be done--he had not served the proper apprenticeship. He
went to London, and petitioned the king on the subject, ‘who, finding
that the corporation stuck upon their privilege, was graciously pleased
to refer [him] back to the Council, to be rewarded as the Council
should judge fit.’ Upwards of three years after (December 14, 1682), he
is found petitioning the Council for this suitable reward, representing
that by the expense of his journey to London and the loss of his
employment, he and his wife and numerous family had been reduced to
‘great straits and necessity.’ They could only refer him to the Bishop
of Edinburgh, that he might deal with the magistrates, to see their
first recommendation made effectual.--_P. C. R._
* * * * *
In 1673, two brothers, probably of English birth, Edward Fountain
of Lochhill and Captain James Fountain, had their patent formally
proclaimed throughout Scotland, as _Masters of the Revels within the
kingdom_. They thus possessed a privilege of licensing and authorising
balls, masks, plays, and such-like entertainments; nor was this quite
such an empty or useless privilege as our traditionary notions of the
religious objections formerly cherished against public amusements might
have led us to suppose.
[Sidenote: JULY 24.]
At the date noted, the two Fountains petitioned the Privy Council
against sundry dancing-masters who took upon them to make ‘public
balls, dances, masks, and other entertainments in their schools,
upon mercenary designs, without any licence or authority from the
petitioners.’ It was set forth that this practice not only invaded
their privileges, but tended to ‘the eminent discouragement of _the
playhouse_,’ which ‘the petitioners had been at great charge in
erecting.’ Agreeing with the views of the petitioners, the Council
ordered all dancing-masters to desist from the above-described
practice, and in particular prohibited ‘Andrew Devoe to keep any ball
to morrow, or at any other time,’ without proper licence.--_P. C. R._
[Sidenote: 1679.]
This as far as I am aware, is the only notice we possess of a
theatre in Edinburgh about 1679. It sounds strange to hear of a
dancing-master’s ball in our city little more than a month after the
battle of Bothwell Bridge, and while a thousand poor men were lodging
on the cold ground in the Greyfriars’ Church-yard.
We find in September 1680 the two Fountains adverting to their
playhouse as still kept up--‘at great expenses;’ and they then petition
for redress against such as ‘keep public games, plays, and _lotteries_’
without that licence which they, as masters of the revels, were alone
entitled to grant. The Council on that occasion directed letters of
horning to be issued against the persons complained of. Soon after,
February 10, 1681, Andrew Devoe, who made his bread by teaching the
children of noblemen and gentlemen to dance, complained that he was
troubled by the two Fountains demanding from him that he should give
caution not to have any more balls in his school. It was an unheard-of
thing in Europe, in Andrew’s opinion, that a school-ball should be
regarded as an infringement of the patent of a master of revels. The
Lords, entering into his views, ordered that any former acts they had
passed in favour of the Messrs Fountain should be held as restricted to
_public_ shows, balls, and lotteries.
The privilege of the Messrs Fountain must have in time become an
insupportable grievance to the lieges, or at least such of them as were
inclined to embroider a little gaiety on the dull serge of common life.
While the parliament sat in August 1681, an act was projected, though
not brought forward, to complain of some oppressive monopolies, and
‘particularly of Mr Fountain’s gifts as Master of the Revels, by which
he exacts so much off every bowling-green, kyle-alley, &c., through
the kingdom, as falling under his gift of lotteries.’[266] In June
1682, Hugh Wallace appeared before the Privy Council as agent for ‘the
haill royal burghs of the kingdom,’ shewing that individuals were daily
charged by these gentlemen ‘upon pretence of gaming at cards and dice,
and other games, or having such plays at their houses,’ acting thus
on the pretended powers derived from certain general letters of the
Council, and proceeding in due course to hornings and captions where
their demands for money were not complied with. The Council ordained
letters to be directed to the Masters of the Revels, if the petitioner
could ‘condescend upon particular acts of exaction.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: AUG. 26.]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
The little village of Corstorphine, three miles from Edinburgh, was
disturbed by a frightful occurrence. The title of Lord Forrester was
at this time borne by a gentleman of mature years, who had acquired it
by his marriage to the heiress, and had subsequently had a family by a
second wife. He lived in the Castle of Corstorphine, the ancient seat
of the family. It appears that he sided with the Presbyterians, and
was zealous enough in their cause to build a meeting-house for their
worship. He had nevertheless formed an improper connection with the
wife of one Nimmo, a merchant in Edinburgh; and, what made this scandal
the greater, the unfortunate woman was niece to his first wife, besides
being grand-daughter of a former Lord Forrester. She was a woman of
violent character, accustomed, it was alleged, to carry a weapon under
her clothes. We are further informed that Mrs Bedford, an adulteress
who had murdered her husband a few years back, was her cousin; and that
Lady Warriston, who suffered for the same offence in 1600, was of the
same family.[267]
It was pretty evident that this was a woman not to be rashly offended.
Lord Forrester had nevertheless spoken opprobriously of her in his
drink, and the fact came to her knowledge. She proceeded to his house
at Corstorphine, and, finding he was at the village tavern, sent for
him. The meeting took place in the garden. After a violent altercation,
the unhappy woman stabbed her paramour with his own sword. ‘He fell
under a tree near the pigeon-house, both of which still remain, and
died immediately. The lady took refuge in the garret of the castle, but
was discovered by one of her slippers, which fell through a crevice
of the floor.’[268] Being seized and brought before the sheriffs of
Edinburgh, she made a confession of her crime, though seeking to
extenuate it, and, two days after, she was tried, and condemned to die.
Taking advantage of a humanity of the law, she contrived by deception
to postpone the execution of the sentence for upwards of two months.
And in this interval, notwithstanding the great care of her enjoined
to John Wan, the keeper of the Tolbooth, she succeeded in making her
escape in men’s apparel, but was found next day at Fala Mill, and
brought back to prison. On the 12th of November, Mrs Nimmo was beheaded
at the Cross of Edinburgh, appearing on the scaffold in mourning, with
a large veil, which, before laying down her head, she put aside, baring
her shoulders at the same time, ‘with seeming courage enough.’[269]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
Connected with the murder, a circumstance characteristic of the age
took place. The deceased nobleman, leaving only heirs of his second
marriage, who took the name of Ruthven from their mother, and who were
in possession of his house, the family honours and estates, which
came by his first wife, by whom he had no surviving progeny, passed,
according to a deed of entail, to another branch of the family. In that
day, no offence was more common than that of violently seizing and
interfering with the legal writings connected with landed properties.
Well knowing this, William Baillie of Torwoodhead and his mother
dreaded that the young Ruthvens might play foul with the late lord’s
charter-chest, and so prejudice their succession. They went with
friends to the house, while the murdered nobleman’s body still lay in
it, and intruded in a violent manner, by way of taking possession of
their inheritance. Their chief aim, as they afterwards alleged, was
to see that no documents should be embezzled or made away with. On a
complaint from the Ruthvens, the Lords adjudged Baillie and his mother
to lie in prison during their pleasure, and fined their assistant, a
Mr Gourlay, in a hundred pounds Scots. The court at the same time took
measures to secure the charter-chest.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: OCT. 26.]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
The Duke of York arrived in Scotland, designing to reside in the
country till the storm of the Exclusion Bill should blow over. He
and his family experienced a favourable reception in Edinburgh.
In July 1681, he was joined by his daughter, styled the Lady Anne
(subsequently Queen Anne). The royal party occupied the palace of
Holyroodhouse, which had recently received such large additions as to
give them handsome accommodation. According to the report of Mr William
Tytler,[270] who had conversed with many who remembered the duke’s
visit, the gaiety and brilliancy of the court of Holyroodhouse on this
occasion was a subject of general satisfaction. ‘The princesses were
easy and affable, and the duke studied to make himself popular among
all ranks of men.’ It was indeed an unpropitious time for the duke to
be in his father’s native kingdom--when a large portion of the people
were at issue with the government about matters of faith, and men
were daily suffering extreme severities on account of their religious
practice. Nevertheless, he was far from being unpopular. It is clearly
intimated by Fountainhall that his birthday came to be observed with
more cordial demonstrations than the king’s.[271] Though the contrary
has been insinuated, there are many instances, credibly reported, of
his shewing humanity towards the unfortunate ‘phanatiques,’ as they
were called, who came under the notice of the local authorities during
the period of his visit.[272]
Mr Tytler reports that the duke and the princesses gave balls, plays,
and masquerades, much to the enjoyment of the nobility and gentry who
attended them, though to the disgust and horror of the more rigid
Presbyterians. It will be found that Nat Lee’s play of _Mithridates,
King of Pontus_, was acted privately at the palace (November 15,
1681), with Lady Anne and the maids of honour as the only performers.
It was probably afterwards that a portion of the duke’s company of
players came down to Edinburgh to give regular performances. Mr Tytler
had a dim recollection of seeing one of their playbills, advertising
in capital letters _The Indian Emperor_, as to be played by them at
the _Queen’s Chocolate House_, which, he thought, would be near the
palace, though we must regard the High Street as a much more likely
situation. This was Dryden’s play on the sad story of Montezuma. The
great English poet comes into connection in another way with this
histrionic expedition to the north, for, when the remainder of the
company appeared at Oxford, he had to write a prologue apologising for
the weakness of the corps, and did it ludicrously at the expense of
Scotland.
[Sidenote: 1679.]
‘Our brethren are from Thames to Tweed departed,
And of our sisters all the kinder-hearted,
To Edinborough gone, or coached or carted.
With bonny Blue-cap there they act all night,
For Scotch half-crown, in English threepence hight.
One nympth to whom fat Sir John Falstaff’s lean,
There with her single person fills the scene.
Another, with long use and wont decayed,
Dived here old woman, and there rose a maid.
Our trusty doorkeepers of former time,
There strut and swagger in heroic rhyme.
Tack but a copper lace to drugget suit,
And there a hero’s made without dispute,
And that which was a capon’s tail before,
Becomes a plume for Indian emperor.
But all his subjects, to express the care
Of imitation, go like Indian bare:
Laced linen there would be a dangerous thing,
It might perhaps a new rebellion bring--
The Scot who wore it would be chosen king.’
Mr Tytler also states that ‘tea, for the first time heard of in
Scotland, was given as a treat by the princesses to the Scottish ladies
who visited at the abbey.’ He adds: ‘The duke was frequently seen in
a party at golf on the Links of Leith, with some of the nobility and
gentry. I remember in my youth to have often conversed with an old man,
named Andrew Dickson, a golf-club maker, who said that, when a boy, he
used to carry the duke’s golf-clubs, and to run before him and announce
where the balls fell.’
In July 1681, hearing that the Duke and Duchess of York were now
residing in Scotland, an Irish theatrical company thought it might be
a good speculation to visit Edinburgh, ‘to set up a playhouse for the
diversion and entertainment of such as shall desire the same.’ They, to
the number of thirty persons, landed at Irvine in Ayrshire, bringing
with them ‘clothes necessar for their employment, mounted with gold
and silver lace,’ when a difficulty was encountered, arising from the
late act of parliament regarding laced clothes. The company was obliged
to send a petition to the Privy Council in Edinburgh, shewing that
‘trumpeters and stage-players’ were exempted from the said act, and
supplicating a pass to be exhibited to the tax-collector at Irvine. His
Royal Highness and the Council at once acceded to the prayer of this
petition.--_P. C. R._
The Duke of York left Edinburgh by sea, on the 6th of March 1682,
‘being desired to see his majesty at Newmarket. There was great
solemnity and attendance at his parture.’[273] He returned to Scotland,
on the 7th of May, also by sea, on which occasion occurred the
disastrous shipwreck of the _Gloucester_ frigate in which he sailed.
His purpose at this time was to bring back his family from Scotland,
and, accordingly, he and the princesses finally departed on the 15th of
the month.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: DEC. 19.]
[Sidenote: 1679.]
A commission composed of country gentlemen and advocates sat in the
Tolbooth of Borrowstounness to try a number of poor people for the
crime of witchcraft. There was Annaple Thomson, who had had a meeting
with the devil in the time of her widowhood, before she was married to
her last husband, on her coming betwixt Linlithgow and Borrowstounness,
when he, ‘in the likeness of ane black man, told you, that you was ane
poor puddled body, and had an evil life, and difficulty to win through
the world, and promised if you would follow him, and go alongst with
him, you should never want, but have ane better life; and about five
weeks thereafter the devil appeared to ye when you was going to the
coal-hill about seven o’clock in the morning. Having renewed his former
tentation, you did condescend thereto, and declared yourself content
to follow him and become his servant.’ There were also women called
Margaret Pringle, Margaret Hamilton (two of the name), and Bessie
Vicker, besides a man called William Craw. ‘Ye and each person of you
was at several meetings with the devil in the links of Borrowstounness,
and in the house of you Bessie Vicker, and ye did eat and drink with
the devil, and with one another, and with witches in her house in the
night-time; and the devil and the said William Craw brought the ale
which ye drank, extending to about seven gallons, from the house of
Elizabeth Hamilton, and you, the said Annaple, had ane other meeting
about five weeks ago, when you was going to the coal-hill of Grange,
and he invited you to go along with him and drink with him in the
Grange-pans.’ Two of the other accused women were said to have in
like manner sworn themselves into the devil’s service and become his
paramours, one eight years, the other thirty years ago. It was charged
against Margaret Pringle, that ‘the devil took you by the right hand,
whereby it was for eight years grievously pained, but [he] having
touched it of new again, it immediately became haill;’ against Margaret
Hamilton--‘the devil gave you ane five-merk piece of gold, whilk a
little after becam ane sklaitt stane.’ And finally, ‘you and ilk ane of
you was at ane meeting with the devil and other witches at the cross of
Muirstane, above Kinneil, upon the thretteen of October last, where you
all danced, and the devil acted the piper.’[274]
These poor people were solemnly tried by the commissioners before an
assize of _fifty persons_, and, notwithstanding that the indictment
charges scarcely any hurtful attempts against individuals, the whole
were adjudged to be taken four days after to the west end of the town,
and there worried at a stake and burnt.
[Sidenote: 1679.]
Thomas Kirke, a Yorkshire squire, this year published a _Modern Account
of Scotland_, containing an extraordinary effusion of bile against the
country, but also preserving a few traits probably not far from the
truth. He describes the gentlemen’s houses as generally of a fortified
character, ‘with strong iron grates before the windows--the lower part
whereof is only a wooden shutter, and the upper part glass--so that
they look more like prisons than houses of reception. Some few houses
there are of late erection, that are built in a better form, with
good walks and gardens about them; but their fruit rarely comes to
any perfection. The houses of the commonality are very mean, mud-wall
and thatch the best. But the poorer sort live in such miserable huts
as never eye beheld; men, women, and children pig together in a poor
mouse-hole of mud, heath, and such-like matter.... The Lowland gentry
go well enough habited, but the poorer sort almost naked, only an old
cloak or part of their bed-clothes thrown over them. The Highlanders
wear slashed doublets, commonly without breeches, only a plaid tied
about their waists and thrown over one shoulder, with short stockings
to the gartering-place, their knees and part of their thighs being
naked. Others have breeches and stockings all of a piece of plaid ware,
close to their thighs [trews]. In one side of their girdle sticks a
durk or skene [knife], about a foot or half a yard long ... on the
other side a brace at least of brass pistols: nor is this honour
sufficient; if they can purchase more, they must have a long swinging
sword.
‘The highways in Scotland are tolerably good, which is the greatest
comfort a traveller meets with amongst them. They have not inns, but
_change-houses_ [taverns], poor small cottages where you must be
content to take what you find.... The Scotch gentry generally travel
from one friend’s house to another; so seldom require a change-house.
Their way is to hire a horse and a man for twopence a mile;[275] they
ride on the horse thirty or forty miles a day, and the man who is his
guide foots it beside him and carries his luggage to boot.’
* * * * *
[Sidenote: 1680.