YEAR 1776
IT belongs to the chroniclers of the realm to describe the damage and
detriment which fell on the power and prosperity of the kingdom, by
reason of the rebellion, that was fired into open war, against the name
and authority of the king in the plantations of America; for my task is
to describe what happened within the narrow bound of the pasturage of the
Lord’s flock, of which, in his bounty and mercy, he made me the humble,
willing, but alas! the weak and ineffectual shepherd.
About the month of February, a recruiting party came to our neighbour
town of Irville, to beat up for men to be soldiers against the rebels;
and thus the battle was brought, as it were, to our gates; for the very
first man that took on with them was one Thomas Wilson, a cottar in our
clachan, who, up to that time, had been a decent and creditable
character. He was at first a farmer lad, but had forgathered with a
doited tawpy, whom he married, and had offspring three or four. For some
time it was noticed that he had a down and thoughtful look, that his
cleeding was growing bare, and that his wife kept an untrig house, which,
it was feared by many, was the cause of Thomas going o’er often to the
change-house; he was, in short, during the greater part of the winter,
evidently a man foregone in the pleasures of this world, which made all
that knew him compassionate his situation.
No doubt, it was his household ills that burdened him past bearing, and
made him go into Irville, when he heard of the recruiting, and take on to
be a soldier. Such a wally-wallying as the news of this caused at every
door; for the red-coats—from the persecuting days, when the black-cuffs
rampaged through the country—soldiers that fought for hire were held in
dread and as a horror among us, and terrible were the stories that were
told of their cruelty and sinfulness; indeed, there had not been wanting
in our time a sample of what they were, as witness the murder of Jean
Glaikit by Patrick O’Neil, the Irish corporal, anent which I have treated
at large in the memorables of the year 1774.
A meeting of the session was forthwith held; for here was Thomas Wilson’s
wife and all his weans, an awful cess, thrown upon the parish; and it was
settled outright among us, that Mr. Docken, who was then an elder, but is
since dead, a worthy man, with a soft tongue and a pleasing manner,
should go to Irville, and get Thomas, if possible, released from the
recruiters. But it was all in vain; the sergeant would not listen to
him, for Thomas was a strapping lad; nor would the poor infatuated man
himself agree to go back, but cursed like a cadger, and swore that, if he
stayed any longer among his plagues, he would commit some rash act; so we
were saddled with his family, which was the first taste and preeing of
what war is when it comes into our hearths, and among the breadwinners.
The evil, however, did not stop here. Thomas, when he was dressed out in
the king’s clothes, came over to see his bairns, and take a farewell of
his friends, and he looked so gallant, that the very next market-day
another lad of the parish listed with him; but he was a ramplor, roving
sort of a creature, and, upon the whole, it was thought he did well for
the parish when he went to serve the king.
The listing was a catching distemper. Before the summer was over, the
other three of the farming lads went off with the drum, and there was a
wailing in the parish, which made me preach a touching discourse. I
likened the parish to a widow woman with a small family, sitting in her
cottage by the fireside, herself spinning with an eident wheel, ettling
her best to get them a bit and a brat, and the poor weans all canty about
the hearthstane—the little ones at their playocks, and the elder at their
tasks—the callans working with hooks and lines to catch them a meal of
fish in the morning—and the lassies working stockings to sell at the next
Marymas fair.—And then I likened war to a calamity coming among them—the
callans drowned at their fishing—the lassies led to a misdoing—and the
feckless wee bairns laid on the bed of sickness, and their poor forlorn
mother sitting by herself at the embers of a cauldrife fire; her tow
done, and no a bodle to buy more; drooping a silent and salt tear for her
babies, and thinking of days that war gone, and, like Rachel weeping for
her children, she would not be comforted. With this I concluded, for my
own heart filled full with the thought, and there was a deep sob in the
Church; verily it was Rachel weeping for her children.
In the latter end of the year, the man-of-war, with Charles Malcolm in
her, came to the tail of the Bank at Greenock, to press men as it was
thought, and Charles got leave from his captain to come and see his
mother; and he brought with him Mr. Howard, another midshipman, the son
of a great parliament man in London, which, as we have tasted the sorrow,
gave us some insight into the pomp of war, Charles was now grown up into
a fine young man, rattling, light-hearted, and just a cordial of
gladness, and his companion was every bit like him. They were dressed in
their fine gold-laced garbs and nobody knew Charles when he came to the
clachan, but all wondered, for they were on horseback, and rode to the
house where his mother lived when he went away, but which was then
occupied by Miss Sabrina and her school. Miss Sabrina had never seen
Charles, but she had heard of him; and when he enquired for his mother,
she guessed who he was, and showed him the way to the new house that the
captain had bought for her.
Miss Sabrina, who was a little overly perjink at times, behaved herself
on this occasion with a true spirit, and gave her lassies the play
immediately; so that the news of Charles’s return was spread by them like
wildfire, and there was a wonderful joy in the whole town. When Charles
had seen his mother, and his sister Effie, with that douce and
well-mannered lad William, his brother—for of their meeting I cannot
speak, not being present—he then came with his friend to see me at the
manse, and was most jocose with me, and, in a way of great pleasance, got
Mrs. Balwhidder to ask his friend to sleep at the manse. In short, we
had just a ploy the whole two days they stayed with us, and I got leave
from Lord Eaglesham’s steward to let them shoot on my lord’s land; and I
believe every laddie wean in the parish attended them to the field. As
for old Lady Macadam, Charles being, as she said, a near relation, and
she having likewise some knowledge of his comrade’s family, she was just
in her element with them, though they were but youths; for she a woman
naturally of a fantastical, and, as I have narrated, given to comical
devices, and pranks to a degree. She made for them a ball, to which she
invited all the bonniest lassies, far and near, in the parish, and was
out of the body with mirth, and had a fiddler from Irville; and it was
thought by those that were there, that had she not been crippled with the
rheumatics, she would have danced herself. But I was concerned to hear
both Charles and his friend, like hungry hawks, rejoicing at the prospect
of the war, hoping thereby, as soon as their midship term was out, to be
made lieutenants; saving this, there was no allay in the happiness they
brought with them to the parish, and it was a delight to see how auld and
young of all degrees made of Charles; for we were proud of him, and none
more than myself, though he began to take liberties with me, calling me
old governor; it was, however, in a warm-hearted manner, only I did not
like it when any of the elders heard. As for his mother, she deported
herself like a saint on the occasion. There was a temperance in the
pleasure of her heart, and in her thankfulness, that is past the compass
of words to describe. Even Lady Macadam, who never could think a serious
thought all her days, said, in her wild way that the gods had bestowed
more care in the making of Mrs. Malcolm’s temper, than on the bodies and
souls of all the saints in the calendar. On the Sunday the strangers
attended divine worship, and I preached a sermon purposely for them, and
enlarged at great length and fulness on how David overcame Goliath; and
they both told me that they had never heard such a good discourse; but I
do not think they were great judges of preachings. How, indeed, could
Mr. Howard know anything of sound doctrine, being educated, as he told
me, at Eton school, a prelatic establishment! Nevertheless, he was a
fine lad; and though a little given to frolic and diversion, he had a
principle of integrity, that afterwards kythed into much virtue; for,
during this visit, he took a notion of Effie Malcolm, and the lassie of
him, then a sprightly and blooming creature, fair to look upon, and
blithe to see; and he kept up a correspondence with her till the war was
over, when being a captain of a frigate, he came down among us, and they
were married by me, as shall be related in its proper place.