[Sidenote: JULY 1.]
The country was at this time in a state of incandescent madness
regarding its nationality, and the public feeling found expression
through the medium of parliament. By its order, there was this day
burned at the Cross of Edinburgh, by the hangman, a book entitled
_Historia Anglo-Scotica_, by James Drake, ‘containing many false and
injurious reflections upon the sovereignty and independency of this
nation.’ In August 1705, when the passion was even at a greater height,
the same fate was awarded by the legislature to a book, entitled _The
Superiority and Direct Dominion of the Imperial Crown of England over
the Crown and Kingdom of Scotland_; also to a pamphlet, called _The
Scots Patriot Unmasked_, both being the production of William Atwood. On
the same day that the latter order was given, the parliament decreed the
extraordinary sum of £4800 (Scots?) to Mr James Anderson, for a book he
had published, _A Historical Essay shewing that the Crown and Kingdom of
Scotland is Imperial and Independent_. Nor was this all, for at the same
time it was ordered that ‘Mr James Hodges, who hath in his writings
served this nation,’ should have a similar reward.[336]
[Sidenote: SEP. 3.]
The Scottish parliament at this time patronised literature to a
considerable extent, though a good deal after the manner of the poor
gentleman who bequeathed large ideal sums to his friends, and comforted
himself with the reflection, that it at least shewed good-will.
Alexander Nisbet had prepared a laborious work on heraldry,[337] tracing
its rise, and describing all its various figures, besides ‘shewing by
whom they are carried amongst us, and for what reasons,’ thus
instructing the gentlefolk of this country of their ‘genealogical
pennons,’ and affording assistance to ‘curious antiquaries’ in
understanding ‘seals, medals, historie, and ancient records.’ But
Alexander was unable of his own means to publish [Sidenote: 1703.] so
large a work, for which it would be necessary to get italic types,
‘whereof there are very few in this kingdom,’ and which also required a
multitude of copper engravings to display ‘the armorial ensigns of this
ancient kingdom.’ Accordingly, on his petition, the parliament
(September 3, 1703), recommended the Treasury to grant him £248, 6_s._
8_d._ sterling ‘out of what fund they shall think fit.’[338]
[Sidenote: AUG. 9.]
In 1695, the Scottish parliament forbade the sale of rum, as interfering
with the consumpt of ‘strong waters made of malt,’ and because the
article itself was ‘rather a drug than a liquor, and highly prejudicial
to the health of all who drink it.’ Now, however, Mr William Cochrane of
Kilmaronock, John Walkenshaw of Barrowfield, John Forbes of Knaperna,
and Robert Douglas, merchant in Leith, designed to set up a sugar-work
and ‘stillarie for distilling of rum’ in Leith, believing that such
could never be ‘more necessary and beneficial to the country, and for
the general use and advantage of the lieges, than in this time of war,
when commodities of that nature, how necessary soever, can hardly be got
from abroad.’ On their petition, the designed work was endowed by the
Privy Council with the privileges of a manufactory.
[Sidenote: SEP. 10.]
The steeple of the Tolbooth of Tain had lately fallen in the night, to
the great hazard of the lives of the prisoners, and some considerable
damage to the contiguous parish church. On the petition of the
magistrates of this poor little burgh, the Privy Council ordained a
collection to be made for the reconstruction of the building; and,
meanwhile, creditors were enjoined to transport their prisoners to other
jails.
Nearly about the same time, voluntary collections were ordained by the
Privy Council, for erecting a bridge over the Dee at the Black Ford; for
the construction of a harbour at Cromarty, ‘where a great quantity of
the victual that comes to the south is loadened;’ and for making a
harbour at Pennan, on the estate of William Baird of Auchmedden, in
Aberdeenshire, where such a convenience was eminently required for the
shelter of vessels, and where ‘there is likewise a millstone quarry
belonging to the petitioner [Baird], from which the greatest part of the
mills in the kingdom are served by sea.’
[Sidenote: 1703. NOV. 11.]
Amidst the endless instances of misdirected zeal and talent which mark
the time, there is a feeling of relief and gratification even in so
small and commonplace a matter as an application to the Privy Council,
which now occurs, from Mr William Forbes, advocate, for a copyright in a
work he had prepared under the name of _A Methodical Treatise of Bills
of Exchange_. The case is somewhat remarkable in itself, as an
application by an author, such applications being generally from
stationers and printers.
[Sidenote: DEC.]
Usually, in our day, the opposing solicitors in a cause do not feel any
wrath towards each other. It was different with two agents employed at
this time in the Court of Session on different interests, one of them
being Patrick Comrie, who acted in the capacity of ‘doer’ for the Laird
of Lawers. To him, one day, as he lounged through the Outer House, came
up James Leslie, a ‘writer,’ who entered into some conversation with him
about Lawers’s business, and so provoked him, that he struck Leslie in
the face, in the presence of many witnesses. Leslie appealed to the
court, on the strength of an old statute which decreed death to any one
guilty of violence in the presence of the Lords, and Comrie was
apprehended. There then arose many curious and perplexing questions
among the judges as to the various bearings of the case; but all were
suddenly solved by Comrie obtaining a remission of his offence from the
queen.[339]
In this year was published[340] the first intelligent topographical book
regarding Scotland, being ‘_A Description of the Western Isles_, by M.
Martin, Gentleman.’ It gives accurate information regarding the physical
peculiarities of these islands, and their numberless relics of
antiquity, besides many sensible hints as to means for improving the
industry of the inhabitants. The author, who seems to have been a native
of Skye, writes like a well-educated man for his age, and as one who had
seen something of life in “busier scenes than those supplied by his own
country. He has also thought proper to give an ample account of many
superstitious practices of the Hebrideans, and to devote a chapter to
the alleged power of _second-sight_, which was then commonly attributed
to special individuals throughout the whole of Celtic Scotland. All this
he does in the same sober painstaking manner in which he tells of
matters connected with the rural economy of the people, [Sidenote:
1703.] fully shewing that he himself reposed entire faith in the alleged
phenomena. In the whole article, indeed, he scarcely introduces a single
expression of a dogmatic character, either in the way of defending the
belief or ridiculing it, but he very calmly furnishes answers, based on
what he considered as facts, to sundry objections which had been taken
against it. But for his book, we should have been much in the dark
regarding a system which certainly made a great mark on the Highland
mind in the seventeenth century, and was altogether as remarkable,
perhaps, as the witch superstitions of the Lowlands during the same
period.
He tells us—‘The second-sight is a singular faculty of seeing an
otherwise invisible object, without any previous means used by the
person that sees it, for that end. The vision makes such a lively
impression upon the seers, that they neither see nor think of anything
else, except the vision, as long as it continues, and then they appear
pensive or jovial, according to the object which was represented to
them.
‘At the sight of a vision, the eyelids of the person are erected, and
the eyes continue staring until the object vanish. This is obvious to
others who are by, when the persons happen to see a vision, and occurred
more than once to my own observation, and to others who were with me.’
The seers were persons of both sexes and of all ages, ‘generally
illiterate, well-meaning people;’ not people who desired to make gain by
their supposed faculty, or to attract notice to themselves—not drunkards
or fools—but simple country people, who were rather more apt to feel
uneasy in the possession of a gift so strange, than to use it for any
selfish or unworthy purpose. It really appears to have been generally
regarded as an uncomfortable peculiarity; and there were many instances
of the seers resorting to prayers and other religious observances in
order to get quit of it.
The vision came upon the seer unpremonishedly, and in all imaginable
circumstances. If early in the morning, which was not frequent, then the
prediction was expected to be accomplished within a few hours; the later
in the day, the accomplishment was expected at the greater distance of
time. The things seen were often of an indifferent nature, as the
arrival of a stranger; often of a character no less important than the
death of individuals. If a woman was seen standing at a man’s left hand,
it was a presage that she would be his wife, even though one of the
parties might then be the mate of another. Sometimes several women would
be seen standing in a row beside a man, in which case it was expected
[Sidenote: 1703.] that the one nearest would be his first wife, and so
on with the rest in their turns.
When the arrival of a stranger was predicted, his dress, stature,
complexion, and general appearance would be described, although he might
be previously unknown to the seer. If of the seer’s acquaintance, his
name would be told, and the humour he was in would be described from the
countenance he bore. ‘I have been seen thus myself,’ says Martin, ‘by
seers of both sexes at some hundred miles’ distance; some that saw me in
this manner, had never seen me personally, and it happened according to
their visions, without any previous design of mine to go to those
places, my coming there being purely accidental.’
It will be remembered that, when Dr Johnson and Boswell travelled
through the Hebrides in 1773, the latter was told an instance of such
prediction by the gentleman who was the subject of the story—namely,
M‘Quarrie, the Laird of Ulva. ‘He had gone to Edinburgh, and taken a
man-servant along with him. An old woman who was in the house said one
day: “M‘Quarrie will be at home to-morrow, and will bring two gentlemen
with him;” and she said she saw his servant return in red and green. He
did come home next day. He had two gentlemen with him, and his servant
had a new red and green livery, which M‘Quarrie had bought for him at
Edinburgh, upon a sudden thought, not having the least intention when he
left home to put his servant in livery; so that the old woman could not
have heard any previous mention of it. This, he assured us, was a true
story.’[341]
Martin tells a story of the same character, but even more striking in
its various features. The seer in this case was Archibald Macdonald, who
lived in the isle of Skye about the time of the Revolution. One night
before supper, at Knockowe, he told the family he had just then seen the
strangest thing he ever saw in his life; to wit, a man with an ugly long
cap, always shaking his head; but the strangest thing of all was a
little harp he had, with only four strings, and two hart’s horns fixed
in the front of it. ‘All that heard this odd vision fell a laughing at
Archibald, telling him that he was dreaming, or had not his wits about
him, since he pretended to see a thing that had no being, and was not so
much as heard of in any part of the world.’ All this had no effect upon
Archibald, ‘who told them that they must excuse him if he laughed at
them after the accomplishment of the vision.’ Archibald [Sidenote:
1703.] returned to his own house, and within three or four days after, a
man exactly answering to the description arrived at Knockowe. He was a
poor man, who made himself a buffoon for bread, playing on a harp, which
was ornamented with a pair of hart’s horns, and wearing a cap and bells,
which he shook in playing. He was previously unknown at Knockowe, and
was found to have been at the island of Barray, sixty miles off, at the
time of the vision. This story was vouched by Mr Daniel Martin and all
his family—relatives, we may presume, of the author of the book now
quoted.
Martin relates a story of a predicted visit of a singular kind to the
island of Egg; and it is an instance more than usually entitled to
notice, as he himself heard of it in the interval between the vision and
its fulfilment. A seer in that island told his neighbours that he had
frequently seen the appearance of a man in a red coat lined with blue,
having on his head a strange kind of blue cap, with a very high cock on
the forepart of it. The figure always appeared in the act of making rude
advances to a young woman who lived in the hamlet, and he predicted that
it would be the fate of this girl to be treated in a dishonourable way
by some such stranger. The inhabitants considered the affair so
extremely unlikely to be realised, that they treated the seer as a fool.
Martin tells that he had the story related to him in Edinburgh, in
September 1688, by Norman Macleod of Graban, who had just then come from
the isle of Skye, there being present at the time the Laird of Macleod,
Mr Alexander Macleod, advocate, and some other persons. About a year and
a half after, a few government war-vessels were sent into the Western
Islands to reduce some of the people who had been out with Lord Dundee.
Major Fergusson, who commanded a large military party on board, had no
thought of touching at Egg, which is a very sequestered island, but some
natives of that isle, being in Skye, encountered a party of his men, and
one of the latter was slain. He consequently steered for Egg, to revenge
himself on the natives. Among other outrages, the young woman above
alluded to was carried on board the vessel, and disgracefully treated,
thus completely verifying the vision.
An instance of the second-sight, which fell under the observation of the
clever statesman Viscount Tarbat, is related by Martin as having been
reported to him by Lord Tarbat himself. While travelling in Ross-shire,
his lordship entered a house, and sat down on an arm-chair. One of his
retinue, who possessed the faculty of [Sidenote: 1703.] a seer, spoke to
some of the rest, wishing them to persuade his lordship to leave the
house, ‘for,’ said he, ‘a great misfortune will attend somebody in it,
and that within a few hours.’ This was told to Lord Tarbat, who did not
regard it. The seer soon after renewed his entreaty with much
earnestness, begging his master to remove out of that unhappy chair; but
he was only snubbed as a fool. Lord Tarbat, at his own pleasure, renewed
his journey, and had not been gone many hours when a trooper, riding
upon ice, fell and broke his thigh, and being brought into that house,
was laid in the arm-chair to have his wound dressed. Thus the vision was
accomplished.
It was considered a rule in second-sight, that a vision seen by one seer
was not necessarily visible to another in his company, unless the first
touched his neighbour. There are, nevertheless, anecdotes of visions
seen by more than one at a time, without any such ceremony. In one case,
two persons, not accustomed to see visions, saw one together, after
which, neither ever enjoyed the privilege again. They were two simple
country men, travelling along a road about two miles to the north of
Snizort church, in Skye. Suddenly they saw what appeared as a body of
men coming from the north, as if bringing a corpse to Snizort to be
buried. They advanced to the river, thinking to meet the funeral company
at the ford, but when they got there, the visionary scene had vanished.
On coming home, they told what they had seen to their neighbours. ‘About
three weeks after, a corpse was brought along that road from another
parish, from which few or none are brought to Snizort, except persons of
distinction.’
A vision of a similar nature is described as occurring to one Daniel
Stewart, an inhabitant of Hole, in the North Parish of St Mary’s, in the
isle of Skye; and it was likewise the man’s only experience of the kind.
One day, at noon, he saw five men riding northward; he ran down to the
road to meet them; but when he got there, all had vanished. The vision
was repeated next day, when he also heard the men speak. It was
concluded that the company he saw was that of Sir Donald Macdonald of
Sleat, who was then at Armadale, forty miles distant.
The important place which matrimony occupies in social existence, makes
it not surprising that the union of individuals in marriage was
frequently the alleged subject of second-sight. As already mentioned,
when a woman stood at a man’s left hand, she was expected to be his
wife. It was also understood that, when a man was seen at a woman’s left
hand, he was to be her [Sidenote: 1703.] future husband. ‘Several
persons,’ says Martin, ‘living in a certain family, told me that they
had frequently seen two men standing at a young gentlewoman’s left hand,
who was their master’s daughter. They told the men’s names, and as they
were the young lady’s equals, it was not doubted that she would be
married to one of them, and perhaps to the other, after the death of the
first. Some time after, a third man appeared, and he seemed always to
stand nearest to her of the three; but the seers did not know him,
though they could describe him exactly. Within some months after, this
man, who was last seen, did actually come to the house, and fulfilled
the description given of him by those who never saw him but in a vision;
and he married the woman shortly after. They live in the isle of Skye;
both they and others confirmed the truth of this instance when I saw
them.’
The Rev. Daniel Nicolson, minister of the parish of St Mary’s, in Skye,
was a widower of forty-four, when a noted seer of his flock, the
Archibald Macdonald already spoken of, gave out that he saw a
well-dressed lady frequently standing at the minister’s right hand. He
described her complexion, stature, and dress particularly, and said he
had no doubt such a person would in time become the second Mrs Nicolson.
The minister was rather angry at having this story told, and bade his
people pay no attention to what ‘that foolish dreamer, Archibald
Macdonald,’ had said, ‘for,’ said he, ‘it is twenty to one if ever I
marry again.’ Archibald, nevertheless, persisted in his tale. While the
matter stood in this position, it was related to Martin.
The minister afterwards attended a synod in Bute—met a Mrs Morison
there—fell in love with her, and brought her home to Skye as his wife.
It is affirmed that she was instantly and generally recognised as
answering to the description of the lady in Archibald’s vision.
About 1652, Captain Alexander Fraser, commonly called the _Tutor of
Lovat_, being guardian of his nephew, Lord Lovat, married Sybilla
Mackenzie, sister of the Earl of Seaforth, and widow of John Macleod of
Macleod. The Tutor, who had fought gallantly in the preceding year for
King Charles II. at Worcester, was thought a very lucky man in this
match, as the lady had a jointure of three hundred merks _per
annum_![342] The marriage, however, is more remarkable on account of its
having [Sidenote: 1703.] been _seen_ many years before, during the
lifetime of the lady’s first husband. We have the story told with all
seriousness, though in very obscure typography, in a letter which Aubrey
prints[343] as having been sent to him by a ‘learned friend’ of his in
the Highlands, about 1694.
Macleod and his wife, while residing, we are to understand, at their
house of Dunvegan in Skye, on returning one day from an excursion or
brief visit, went into their nursery to see their infant child. To
pursue the narration: ‘On their coming in, the nurse falls a-weeping.
They asked the cause, dreading the child was sick, or that the nurse was
scarce of milk. The nurse replied the child was well, and she had
abundance of milk. Yet she still wept. Being pressed to tell what ailed
her, she at last said that Macleod would die, and the lady would shortly
be married to another man. Being asked how she knew that event, she told
them plainly, that, as they came into the room, she saw a man with a
scarlet cloak and white hat betwixt them, giving the lady a kiss over
the shoulder; and this was the cause of her weeping; all which,’ pursues
the narrator, ‘came to pass. After Macleod’s death [which happened in
1649], the Tutor of Lovat married the lady in the same dress in which
the woman saw him.’
The Bishop of Caithness, a short while before the Revolution, had five
daughters, one of whom spoke grudgingly of the burden of the family
housekeeping lying wholly upon her. A man-servant in the house, who had
the second-sight, told her that ere long she would be relieved from her
task, as he saw a tall gentleman in black walking on the bishop’s right
hand, and whom she was to marry. Before a quarter of a year had elapsed,
the prediction was realised; and all the man’s vaticinations regarding
the marriage-feast and company also proved true.
A curious class of cases, of importance for any theory on the subject,
was that in which a visionary figure or spectre intervened for the
production of the phenomena. A spirit in great vogue in the Highlands in
old times—as, indeed, in the Lowlands also—was known by the name of
_Browny_. From the accounts we have of him, it seems as if he were in a
great measure identical with the drudging goblin of Milton, whose
shadowy flail by night would thrash the corn
‘That ten day-labourers could not end.’
Among our Highlanders, he presented himself as a tall man. [Sidenote:
1703.] The servants of Sir Norman Macleod of Bernera were one night
assembled in the hall of the castle in that remote island, while their
master was absent on business, without any intimation having been given
of the time of his probable return. One of the party, who had the
second-sight, saw Browny[344] come in several times and make a show of
carrying an old woman from the fireside to the door; at last, he seemed
to take her by neck and heels, and bundle her out of the house; at which
the seer laughed so heartily, that his companions thought him mad. He
told them they must remove, for the hall would be required that night
for other company. They knew, of course, that he spoke in consequence of
having had a vision; but they took it upon themselves to express a doubt
that it could be so speedily accomplished. In so dark a night, and the
approach to the island being so dangerous on account of the rocks, it
was most unlikely that their master would arrive. In less than an hour,
a man came in to warn them to get the hall ready for their master, who
had just landed. Martin relates this story from Sir Norman Macleod’s own
report.
The same Sir Norman Macleod was one day playing with some of his friends
at a game called the Tables (in Gaelic, _palmermore_), which requires
three on a side, each throwing the dice by turns. [Sidenote: 1703.] A
critical difficulty arising as to the placing of one of the table-men,
seeing that the issue of the game obviously must depend upon it, the
gentleman who was to play hesitated for a considerable time. At length,
Sir Norman’s butler whispered a direction as to the best site for the
man into his ear; he played in obedience to the suggestion, and won the
game. Sir Norman, having heard the whisper, asked who had advised him so
skilfully. He answered that it was the butler. ‘That is strange,’ quoth
Sir Norman, ‘for the butler is unacquainted with the game.’ On inquiry,
the man told that he had not spoken from any skill of his own. He had
seen the spirit, Browny, reaching his arm over the player’s head, and
touching with his finger the spot where the table-man was to be placed.
‘This,’ says Martin, ‘was told me by Sir Norman and others, who happened
to be present at the time.’
Sir Norman Macleod relates another case in which his own knowledge comes
in importantly for authentication. A gentleman in the isle of Harris had
always been ‘seen’ with an arrow in his thigh, and it was expected that
he would not go out of the world without the prediction being fulfilled.
Sir Norman heard the matter spoken of for many years before the death of
the gentleman. At length the gentleman died, without any such occurrence
taking place. Sir Norman was at his funeral, at St Clement’s kirk, in
Harris. The custom of that island being to bury men of importance in a
stone chest in the church, the body was brought on an open bier. A
dispute took place among the friends at the church door as to who should
enter first, and from words it came to blows. One who was armed with a
bow and arrows, let fly amongst them, and after Sir Norman Macleod had
appeased the tumult, one of the arrows was found sticking in the dead
man’s thigh!
Martin was informed by John Morison of Bragir, in Lewis, ‘a person of
unquestionable sincerity and reputation,’ respecting a girl of twelve
years old, living within a mile of his house, who was troubled with the
frequent vision of a person exactly resembling herself, who seemed to be
always employed just as she herself might be at the moment. At the
suggestion of John Morison, prayers were put up in the family, in which
he and the girl joined, entreating that God would be pleased to relieve
her from this unpleasant visitation; and after that she saw her double
no more. Another neighbour of John Morison was haunted by a spirit
resembling himself, who never spoke to him within doors, but pestered
him constantly out of doors with impertinent questions. [Sidenote:
1703.] At the recommendation of a neighbour, the man threw a live coal
in the face of the vision; in consequence of which, the spirit assailed
him in the fields next day, and beat him so sorely, that he had to keep
his bed for fourteen days. Martin adds: ‘Mr Morison, minister of the
parish, and several of his friends, came to see the man, and joined in
prayer that he might be freed from this trouble; but he was still
haunted by that spirit a year after I left Lewis.’
Another case in which the spirit used personal violence, but of an
impalpable kind, is related by Martin as happening at Knockowe, in Skye,
and as reported to him by the family who were present when the
circumstance occurred. A man-servant, who usually enjoyed perfect
health, was one evening taken violently ill, fell back upon the floor,
and then began to vomit. The family were much concerned, being totally
at a loss to account for so sudden an attack; but in a short while the
man recovered, and declared himself free of pain. A seer in the family
explained the mystery. In a neighbouring village lived an ill-natured
female, who had had some hopes of marriage from this man, but was likely
to be disappointed. He had seen this woman come in with a furious
countenance, and fall a-scolding her lover in the most violent manner,
till the man tumbled from his seat, albeit unconscious of the assault
made upon him.
Several instances of second-sight are recorded in connection with
historical occurrences. Sir John Harrington relates that, at an
interview he had with King James in 1607, the conversation having turned
upon Queen Mary, the king told him that her death had been seen in
Scotland before it happened, ‘being, as he said, “spoken of in secret by
those whose power of sight presented to them a bloody head dancing in
the air.” He then,’ continues Harrington, ‘did remark much on this
gift.’[345] It is related in May’s _History of England_, that when the
family of King James was leaving Scotland for England, an old
hermit-like seer was brought before them, who took little notice of
Prince Henry, but wept over Prince Charles—then three years
old—lamenting to think of the misfortunes he was to undergo, and
declaring he should be the most miserable of princes. A Scotch nobleman
had a Highland seer brought to London, where he asked his judgment on
the Duke of Buckingham, then at the height of his fortunes as the king’s
favourite. [Sidenote: 1703.] ‘Pish!’ said he, ‘he will come to nothing.
I see a dagger in his breast!’ In time the duke, as is well known, was
stabbed to the heart by Lieutenant Felton.
In one of the letters on second-sight, written to Mr Aubrey from
Scotland about 1693–94, reference is made to the seer Archibald
Macdonald, who has already been introduced in connection with instances
occurring in Skye. According to this writer, who was a divinity student
living in Strathspey, Inverness-shire, Archibald announced a prediction
regarding the unfortunate Earl of Argyle. He mentioned it at Balloch
Castle (now Castle-Grant), in the presence of the Laird of Grant, his
lady, and several others, and also in the house of the narrator’s
father. He said of Argyle, of whom few or none then knew where he was,
that he would within two months come to the West Highlands, and raise a
rebellious faction, which would be divided in itself, and disperse,
while the earl would be taken and beheaded at Edinburgh, and his head
set upon the Tolbooth, where his father’s head was before. All this
proved strictly true.
Archibald Macdonald was a friend of Macdonald of Glencoe, and
accompanied him in the expedition of Lord Dundee in 1689 for the
maintenance of King James’s interest in the Highlands. Mr Aubrey’s
correspondent, who was then living in Strathspey, relates that Dundee’s
irregular forces followed General Mackay’s party along Speyside till
they came to Edinglassie, when he turned and marched up the valley. At
the Milltown of Gartenbeg, the Macleans joined, but remained behind to
plunder. Glencoe, with Archibald in his company, came to drive them
forward; and when this had been to some extent effected, the seer came
up and said: ‘Glencoe, if you will take my advice, you will make off
with yourself with all possible haste. Ere an hour come and go, you’ll
be as hard put to it as ever you were in your life.’ Glencoe took the
hint, and, within an hour, Mackay appeared at Culnakyle, in Abernethy,
with a party of horse, and chased the Macleans up the Morskaith; in
which chase Glencoe was involved, and was hard put to it, as had been
foretold. It is added, that Archibald likewise foretold that Glencoe
would be murdered in the night-time in his own house, three months
before it happened.
A well-vouched instance of the second-sight connected with a historical
incident, is related by Drummond of Bohaldy, regarding the celebrated
Highland paladin, Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil, who died at the age of
ninety in 1719. ‘Very early that morning [Sidenote: 1703.] [December 24,
1715] whereon the Chevalier de St George landed at Peterhead, attended
only by Allan Cameron, one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber, Sir Ewen
started, as it were, in a surprise, from his sleep, and called out so
loud to his lady (who lay by him in another bed) that his king was
landed—that his king was arrived—and that his son Allan was with him,
that she awaked.’ She then received his orders to summon the clan, and
make them drink the king’s (that is, the Chevalier’s) health—a fête they
engaged in so heartily, that they spent in it all the next day. ‘His
lady was so curious, that she noted down the words upon paper, with the
date; which she a few days after found verified in fact, to her great
surprise.’ Bohaldy remarks that this case fully approved itself to the
whole clan Cameron, as they heard their chief speak of scarcely anything
else all that day.[346]
Predictions of death formed a large class of cases of second-sight. The
event was usually indicated by the subject of the vision appearing in a
shroud, and the higher the vestment rose on the figure, the event was
the nearer. ‘If it is not seen above the middle,’ says Martin, ‘death is
not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months
longer. When it is seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is
concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours, as daily
experience confirms. Examples of this kind were shewn me, when the
person of whom the observation was made enjoyed perfect health.’ He
adds, that sometimes death was foretold of an individual by hearing a
loud cry, as from him, out of doors. ‘Five women were sitting together
in the same room, and all of them heard a loud cry passing by the
window. They thought it plainly to be the voice of a maid who was one of
the number. She blushed at the time, though not sensible of her so
doing, contracted a fever next day, and died that week.’
In a pamphlet on the second-sight, written by Mr John Fraser, dean of
the Isles, and minister of Tiree and Coll, is an instance of predicted
death, which the author reports on his own knowledge. Having occasion to
go to Tobermory, in Mull, to assist in some government investigations
for the recovery of treasure in the vessel of the Spanish Armada known
to have been there sunk, he was accompanied by a handsome servant-lad,
besides other attendants.[347] A woman came before he sailed, and,
through the [Sidenote: 1703.] medium of a seaman, endeavoured to
dissuade him from taking that youth, as he would never bring him back
alive. The seaman declined to communicate her story to Mr Fraser. The
company proceeded on their voyage, and met adverse weather; the boy fell
sick, and died on the eleventh day. Mr Fraser, on his return, made a
point of asking the woman how she had come to know that this lad,
apparently so healthy, was near his death. She told Mr Fraser that she
had seen the boy, as he walked about, ‘sewed up in his winding-sheets
from top to toe;’ this she always found to be speedily followed by the
death of the person so seen.
Martin relates that a woman was accustomed for some time to see a female
figure, with a shroud up to the waist, and a habit resembling her own;
but as the face was turned away, she never could ascertain who it was.
To satisfy her curiosity, she tried an experiment. She dressed herself
with that part of her clothes behind which usually was before. The
vision soon after presented itself with its face towards the seeress,
who found it to be herself. She soon after died.
Although the second-sight had sunk so much in Martin’s time, that,
according to him, there was not one seer for ten that had been twenty
years before, it continued to be so much in vogue down to the reign of
George III., that a separate treatise on the subject, containing scores
of cases, was published in 1763 by an educated man styling himself
_Theophilus Insulanus_, as a means of checking in some degree the
materialising tendencies of the age, this author considering the gift as
a proof of the immortality of the soul. When Dr Johnson, a few years
later, visited the Highlands, he found the practice, so to speak, much
declined, and the clergy almost all against it. Proofs could,
nevertheless, be adduced that there are even now, in the remoter parts
of the Highlands, occasional alleged instances of what is called
second-sight, with a full popular belief in their reality.
[Sidenote: 1704. JAN. 25.]
Charles, Earl of Hopetoun,[348] set forth in a petition to the Privy
Council, that in his minority, many years ago, his tutors had caused a
windmill to be built at Leith for grinding and refining the ore from his
lead-mines. In consequence of the unsettling of a particular bargain,
the mill had been allowed to lie unused till now, when it required some
repair in order to be fit for service. [Sidenote: 1704.] One John Smith,
who had set up a saw-mill in Leith, being the only man _seen_ in this
kind of work, had been called into employment by his lordship for the
repair of the windmill; but the wright-burgesses of Edinburgh interfered
violently with the work, on the ground of their corporation privileges,
‘albeit it is sufficiently known that none of them have been bred to
such work or have any skill therein.’ Indeed, some part of the original
work done by them had now to be taken down, so ill was it done. It was
obviously a public detriment that such a work should thus be brought to
a stand-still. The Council, entering into the earl’s views, gave him a
protection from the claims of the wright-burgesses.
[Sidenote: FEB.]
It is notorious that the purity of the Court of Session continued down
to this time to be subject to suspicion. It was generally understood
that a judge favoured his friends and connections, and could be ‘spoken
to’ in behalf of a party in a suit. The time was not yet long past when
each lord had a ‘Pate’—that is, a dependent member of the bar (sometimes
called Peat), who, being largely fee’d by a party, could on that
consideration influence his patron.
A curious case, illustrative of the character of the bench, was now in
dependence. The heritors of the parish of Dalry raised an action for the
realisation of a legacy of £3000, which had been left to them for the
founding of a school by one Dr Johnston. The defender was John Joissy,
surgeon, an executor of the testator, who resisted the payment of the
money on certain pretexts. With the assistance of Alexander Gibson of
Durie, a principal clerk of Session, Joissy gained favour with a portion
of the judges, including the president. On the other hand, the heritors,
under the patronage of the Earl of Galloway, secured as many on their
side. A severe contest was therefore to be expected. According to a
report of the case in the sederunt-book of the parish, the Lord
President managed to have it judged under circumstances favourable to
Joissy. The court having ‘accidentally appointed a peremptor day about
the beginning of February 1704 for reporting and deciding in the cause,
both parties concluded that the parish would then gain it, since one of
Mr Joissy’s lords came to be then absent. For as my Lord Anstruther’s
hour in the Outer House was betwixt nine and ten of the clock in the
morning, so the Earl of Lauderdale, as Lord Ordinary in the Outer House,
behoved to sit from ten to twelve in [Sidenote: 1704.] the forenoon: for
by the 21st act of the fourth session of the first parliament of King
William and Queen Mary, it’s statuted expressly, that if the Lord
Ordinary in the Outer Houses sit and vote in any cause in the Inner
House after the chap of ten hours in the clock, he may be _declined_ by
either party in the cause from ever voting thereafter therintill: yet
such was the Lord President’s management, that so soon as my Lord
Anstruther returned from the Outer House at ten of the clock, and that
my Lord Lauderdale was even desired by some of the lords to take his
post in the Outer House in the terms of law: yet his lordship was
pleased after ten to sit and vote against the parish, the president at
that juncture having put the cause to a vote.’
The heritors, by the advice of some of the lords in their interest, gave
in a declinature of Lord Lauderdale, on the ground of the illegality of
his sitting in the Inner House after ten o’clock; whereupon, next
morning, the Lord President came into the court in a great rage,
demanding that all those concerned in the declinature should be punished
as criminals. The leading decliner, Mr Ferguson of Cairoch, escaped from
town on horseback, an hour before the macer came to summon him. The
counsel, John Menzies of Cammo, and the agent, remained to do what they
could to still the storm. According to the naïve terms of the report,
‘the speat [flood] was so high against the parish and them all the time,
that they behoved to employ all their friends, and solicit a very
particular lord that morning before they went to the house; and my Lord
President was so high upon’t, that when Cammo told him that my Lord
Lauderdale, contrair to the act of parliament, sat after ten o’clock,
his lordship unmannerly said to Cammo, as good a gentleman as himself,
that it was a damned lie.’
Menzies, though a very eminent counsel, and the agent, found all their
efforts end in an order for their going to jail, while a suitable
punishment should be deliberated upon. After some discussion, a slight
calm ensued, and they were liberated on condition of coming to the bar
as malefactors, and there begging the Earl of Lauderdale’s pardon. The
parish report states that no remedy could be obtained, for ‘the misery
at that time was that the lords were in effect absolute, for they did as
they pleased, and when any took courage to protest for remeid of law to
the Scots parliament, they seldom or never got any redress there, all
the lords being still present, by which the parliament [Sidenote: 1704.]
was so overawed that not ane decreit among a hundred was reduced.’[349]
It is strange to reflect, that among these judges were Lord Fountainhall
and Lord Arniston, with several other men who had resisted tyrannous
proceedings of the old government, to their own great suffering and
loss. Wodrow promises of Halcraig, that, for his conduct regarding the
test in 1684, his memory would be ‘savoury.’ The same author, speaking
of the set in 1726 as dying out, says he wishes their places may be as
well filled. ‘King William,’ he says, ‘brought in a good many
substantial, honest country gentlemen, well affected to the government
and church, and many of them really religious, though there might be
some greater lawyers than some of them have been and are. But, _being
men of integrity and weight, they have acted a fair and honest part
these thirty years_, and keep the bench in great respect. May their
successors be equally diligent and conscientious!’[350] Of course, by
fairness and honesty, Wodrow chiefly meant soundness in revolution
politics, and steadfast adherence to the established church.
Another instance of the vigorous action of the Lords in the maintenance
of their dignity occurred in December 1701. A gentleman, named Cannon of
Headmark, having some litigation with the Viscount Stair and Sir James
Dalrymple, his brother Alexander, an agent before the court, used some
indiscreet expressions regarding the judges in a paper drawn up by him.
Being called before the Lords, and having acknowledged the authorship of
the paper, he was sent to prison for a month, ordered then to crave
pardon of the court on his knees, and thereafter to be for ever debarred
from carrying on business as an agent.[351]
Some letters regarding a lawsuit of William Foulis of Woodhall in
1735–37, which have been printed,[352] shew that it was even then still
customary to use influence with the Lords in favour of parties, and the
female connections appear as taking a large share in the business. One
sentence is sufficient to reveal the whole system. ‘By Lord St Clair’s
advice, Mrs Kinloch is to wait on Lady Cairnie to-morrow, to cause her
to ask the favour of Lady St Clair to solicit Lady Betty Elphinston and
Lady Dun’—the former being the wife of Lord Coupar, and the [Sidenote:
1704.] latter of Lord Dun, two of the judges. Lord St Clair’s hint to
Mrs Kinloch to get her friend to speak to his own wife—he thus keeping
clear of the affair himself—is a significant particular. Lord Dun, who
wrote a moral volume, entitled _Advices_,[353] and was distinguished for
his piety, is spoken of by tradition as such a lawyer as might well be
open to any force that was brought to bear upon him. The present Sir
George Sinclair heard Mr Thomas Coutts relate that, when a difficult
case came before the court, where Lord Dun acted alone as ‘ordinary,’ he
was heard to say: ‘Eh, Lord, what am I to do? Eh, sirs, I wiss ye wad
mak it up.’
It will be surprising to many to learn that the idea of having ‘friends’
to a cause on the bench was not entirely extinct in a reign which people
in middle life can well recollect. The amiable Charles Duke of
Queensberry, who had been the patron of Gay, was also the friend of
James Burnett of Monboddo, and had exacted a promise that Burnett should
be the next person raised to the bench. ‘On Lord Milton’s death (1767),
the duke waited on his majesty, and reminded him of his promise, which
was at once admitted, and orders were immediately given to the secretary
of state [Conway] to make out the royal letter. The lady of the
secretary was nearly allied to the family of Hamilton, and being most
naturally solicitous about the vote which Mr Burnett might give in the
great cause of which he had taken so much charge as a counsel, she and
the Duchess of Hamilton and Argyle were supposed to have induced their
brother-in-law, Mr Secretary Conway, to withhold for many weeks the
letter of appointment, and is even supposed to have represented Mr
Burnett’s character in such unfavourable colours to the Lord Chancellor
Henley, that his lordship is reported to have jocosely declared, that if
she could prove her allegations against that gentleman, instead of
making him a judge, he would _hang_ him. This delay gave rise to much
idle conjecture and conversation in Edinburgh, and it was confidently
reported that Mr Burnett’s appointment would not take place till after
the decision of the Douglas cause. Irritated by these insinuations
against his integrity, he wrote to the Duke of Queensberry, declaring
that if his integrity as a judge could be questioned in this cause, he
should positively refuse to be trusted with any other; and so highly did
he resent the opposition made by the secretary to his promotion, that he
took measures for [Sidenote: 1704.] canvassing his native county, in
order to oppose in parliament a ministry who had so grossly affronted
him. The Duke of Queensberry, equally indignant at the delay, requested
an audience of his majesty, and tendered a surrender of his commission
as justice-general of Scotland, if the royal promise was not fulfilled.
In a few days the letter was despatched, and Lord Monboddo took his seat
in the court.’[354]
[Sidenote: FEB. 2.]
Under the excitement created by the news of a Jacobite plot, the zealous
Presbyterians of Dumfriesshire rose to wreak out their long pent-up
feelings against the Catholic gentry of their district. Having fallen
upon sundry houses, and pillaged them of popish books, images, &c., they
marched in warlike manner to Dumfries, under the conduct of James
Affleck of Adamghame and John M‘Jore of Kirkland, and there made solemn
incremation of their spoil at the Cross.
A number of ‘popish vestments, trinkets, and other articles’ having been
found about the same time in and about Edinburgh, the Privy Council
(March 14) ordered such of them as were not intrinsically valuable to be
burned next day at the Cross; but the chalice, patine, and other
articles in silver and gold, to be melted down, and the proceeds given
to the kirk-treasurer.[355]
Notwithstanding this treatment, we find it reported in 1709, that
‘papists do openly and avowedly practise within the city of Edinburgh
and suburbs.’ It was intimated at the same time, that there is ‘now also
a profane and deluded crew of enthusiasts, set up in this place, who,
under pretence to the spirit of prophecy, do utter most horrid
blasphemies against the ever-glorious Trinity, such as ought not to be
suffered in any Christian church or nation.’[356]
Sir George Maxwell of Orchardton, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright,
having gone over to the Church of Rome, and the next heir, who was a
Protestant, being empowered by the statute of 1700 to claim his estate,
his uncle, Thomas Maxwell of Gelstoun, a man of seventy years of age,
came forward on this adventure (June 1704), further demanding that the
young baronet should be decerned to pay him six thousand merks as a
year’s rent of his estate for employing George Maxwell of Munshes, a
known [Sidenote: 1704.] papist, to be his factor, and five hundred more
from Munshes himself for accepting the trust.
A petition presented by the worthy Protestant uncle to the Privy
Council, makes us aware that George Maxwell of Munshes, ‘finding he
would be reached for accepting the said factory, out of malice raised a
lawburrows,’ in which Orchardton concurred, though out of the kingdom,
against Gelstoun and his son, as a mere pretext for stopping
proceedings; but he trusted the Lords would see through the trick, and
defeat it by accepting the cautioners he offered for its suspension. The
Council, doubtless duly indignant that a papist should so try to save
his property, complied with Gelstoun’s petition.[357]
[Sidenote: APR. 12.]
A statute of the Sixth James, anno 1621—said to have been borrowed from
one of Louis XIII. of France—had made it unlawful for any tavern-keeper
to allow individuals to play in his house at cards and dice, or for any
one to play at such games in a private house, unless where the master of
the house was himself playing; likewise ordaining, that any sum above a
hundred merks gained at horse-racing, or in less than twenty-four hours
at other play, should be forfeited to the poor of the district. During
the ensuing period of religious strictness, we hear little of gambling
in Scotland, but when the spring was relaxed, it began to reappear with
other vices of ease and prosperity. A case, reported in the law-books
under July 1688, makes us aware, as by a peep through a curtain, that
gentlemen were accustomed at that time to win and lose at play sums
which appear large in comparison with incomes and means then general. It
appears that Captain Straiton, who was well known afterwards as a busy
Jacobite partisan, won from Sir Alexander Gilmour of Craigmillar, at
cards, in one night, no less than six thousand merks, or £338, 6_s._
8_d._ sterling. The captain first gained four thousand, for which he
obtained a bond from Sir Alexander; then he gained two thousand more,
and got a new bond for the whole. An effort was made to reduce the bond,
but without success.
Francis Charteris, a cadet of an ancient and honourable family in
Dumfriesshire, and who had served in Marlborough’s wars, was now
figuring in Edinburgh as a member of the _beau monde_, with the
reputation of being a highly successful gambler. There is a story told
of him—but I cannot say with what truth—that, being at the Duke of
Queensberry’s one evening, and playing with the [Sidenote: 1704.]
duchess, he was enabled, by means of a mirror, or more probably a couple
of mirrors placed opposite each other, to see what cards she had in her
hand, through which means he gained from her Grace no less a sum than
three thousand pounds. It is added that the duke was provoked by this
incident to get a bill passed through the parliament over which he
presided, for prohibiting gambling beyond a certain moderate sum; but
this must be a mistake, as no such act was then passed by the Scottish
Estates; nor was any such statute necessary, while that of 1621 remained
in force. We find, however, that the Town Council at this date issued an
act of theirs, threatening vigorous action upon the statute of 1621, as
concerned playing at cards and dice in public houses, as ‘the occasion
of horrid cursing, quarrelling, tippling, loss of time, and neglect of
necessary business—the constables to be diligent in detecting offenders,
on pain of having to pay the fines themselves.’ Perhaps it was at the
instigation of the duke that this step was taken.
From Fountainhall we learn that, about 1707, Sir Andrew Ramsay of
Abbotshall lost 28,000 merks, to Sir Scipio Hill, at cards and dice, and
granted a bond upon his estate for the amount. This being in
contravention of the act of 1621, the kirk-treasurer put in his claim
for all above 100 merks on behalf of the poor, but we do not learn with
what success.
[Sidenote: JULY 4.]
Sir Thomas Dalyell of Binns—grandson of the old bearded persecutor of
the times of the Charleses—had for a long time past been ‘troubled with
a sore disease which affects his reason, whereby he is continually
exposed to great dangers to his own person, by mobs, and others that
does trouble him.’ It was also found that ‘by the force of his disease,
he is liable to squander away and dilapidate his best and readiest
effects, as is too notourly known.’ Such is the statement of Sir
Thomas’s nephew, Robert Earl of Carnwath; his sister, Magdalen Dalyell;
and her husband, James Monteith of Auldcathie, craving authority, ‘for
the preservation of his person and estate, and also for the public
peace,’ to take him into custody in his house of Binns, ‘till means be
used for his recovery;’ likewise power to employ a factor ‘for uplifting
so much of his rents as may be necessar for his subsistence, and the
employing doctors and apothecaries, according to the exigence of his
present condition.’
The Council not only granted the petition, but ordained that the
petitioners might order up a soldier or two at any [Sidenote: 1704.]
time from Blackness, to assist in restraining the unfortunate gentleman.
This Sir Thomas Dalyell died unmarried, leaving his estates and
baronetcy to a son of his sister Magdalen, grandfather of the present
baronet. The case is cited as shewing the arrangements for a lunatic man
of rank in the days of Queen Anne.
[Sidenote: JULY.]
The central authorities were now little inclined to take up cases of
sorcery; but it does not appear that on that account witches ceased to
be either dreaded or punished. Country magistrates and clergy were
always to be found who sympathised with the popular terrors on the
subject, and were ready to exert themselves in bringing witches to
justice.
At the village of Torryburn, in the western part of Fife, a woman called
Jean Neilson experienced a tormenting and not very intelligible ailment,
which she chose to attribute to the malpractices of a woman named
Lillias Adie. Adie was accordingly taken up by a magistrate, and put in
prison. On the 29th July, the minister and his elders met in session,
called Lillias before them, and were gratified with an instant
confession, to the effect that she had been a witch for several years,
having met the devil at the side of a ‘stook’ on the harvest-field, and
renounced her baptism to him, not without a tender embrace, on which
occasion she found that his skin was cold, and observed his feet cloven
like those of a stirk. She had also joined in midnight dances where he
was present. Once, at the back of Patrick Sands’s house in Valleyfield,
the festivity was lighted by a light that ‘came from darkness,’ not so
bright as a candle, but sufficient to let them see each other’s faces,
and shew the devil, who wore a cap covering his ears and neck. Several
of the women she saw on these occasions she now delated as witches. The
session met again and again to hear such recitals, and to examine the
newly accused persons. There was little reported but dance-meetings of
the alleged witches, and conversations with the devil, the whole bearing
very much the character of what we have come to recognise as
hallucinations or spectral illusions. Yet the case of Adie was
considered sufficient to infer the pains of death, and she was burned
within the sea-mark. There were several other solemn meetings of the
session to inquire into the cases of the other women accused by Adie;
but we do not learn with what result.
The extreme length to which this affair was carried may be partly
attributed to the zeal of the minister, the Rev. Allan [Sidenote: 1704.]
Logan, who is said to have been particularly knowing in the detection of
witches. At the administration of the communion, he would cast his eye
along, and say: ‘You witch-wife, get up from the table of the Lord,’
when some poor creature, perhaps conscience-struck with a recollection
of wicked thoughts, would rise and depart, thus exposing herself to the
hazard of a regular accusation afterwards. He used to preach against
witchcraft, and we learn that, in 1709, a woman called Helen Key was
accused before the Torryburn session of using some disrespectful
language about him in consequence. She told a neighbour, it appears,
that on hearing him break out against the witches, she thought him
‘daft’ [mad], and took up her stool and left the kirk. For this she was
convicted of profanity, and ordained to sit before the congregation and
be openly rebuked.[358]
Rather earlier in the year, there was a remarkable outbreak of diablerie
at the small seaport burgh of Pittenweem, in the eastern part of Fife.
Here lived a woman named Beatrix or Beatie Laing, described as ‘spouse
to William Brown, tailor, late treasurer of the burgh,’ and who must
therefore be inferred to have been not quite amongst the poorer class of
people. In a petition from the magistrates (June 13, 1704) to the Privy
Council, it was stated that Patrick Morton was a youth of sixteen, ‘free
of any known vice,’ and that, being employed by his father to make some
nails for a ship belonging to one of the merchants in Pittenweem, he was
engaged at that work in his father’s smithy, when Beatrix Laing came and
desired him to make some nails for her. He modestly refused, alleging
that he was engaged in another job requiring haste, whereupon she went
away ‘threatening to be revenged, which did somewhat frighten him,
because he knew she was under a bad fame and reputed for a witch.’
Next day, as he passed Beatrix’s door, ‘he observed a timber vessel with
some water and a fire-coal in it at the door, which made him apprehend
that it was a charm laid for him, and the effects of her threatening;
and immediately he was seized with such a weakness in his limbs, that he
could hardly stand or walk.’ He continued for many weeks in a
languishing condition, in spite of all that physicians could do for him,
‘still growing worse, having no appetite, and his body strangely
emaciated. About the beginning of May, his case altered to the worse by
his having [Sidenote: 1704.] such strange and unusual fits as did
astonish all onlookers. His belly at times was distended to a great
height; at other times, the bones of his back and breast did rise to a
prodigious height, and suddenly fell,’ while his breathing ‘was like to
the blowing of a bellows.’ At other times, ‘his body became rigid and
inflexible, insomuch that neither his arms nor legs could be bowed or
moved by any strength, though frequently tried.’ His senses were
‘benumbed, and yet his pulse [continued] in good order.’ His head
sometimes turned half about, and no force could turn it back again. He
suffered grievous agonies. His tongue was occasionally drawn back in his
throat, ‘especially when he was telling who were his tormentors.’
Sometimes the magistrates or minister brought these people to his house,
and before he saw them, he would cry out they were coming, and name
them. The bystanders would cover his face, bring in the women he had
accused of tormenting him, besides others, and cause them to touch him
in succession; when he expressed pain as the alleged tormentors laid
their hands upon him, and in the other instances ‘no effect followed.’
It seemed to the magistrates that the young man was in much the same
condition with ‘that of Bargarran’s daughter in the west.’
Beatrix, and the other accused persons, were thrown into the jail of the
burgh by the minister and magistrates, with a guard of drunken fellows
to watch over them. Beatrix steadily refused to confess being a witch,
and was subjected to pricking, and kept awake for five days and nights,
in order to bring her to a different frame of mind. Sorely wounded, and
her life a burden to her, she at length was forced, in order to be rid
of the torment, to admit what was imputed to her. It will thus be
observed that the humane practice maintained during the whole of the
late cavalier reigns, of only accepting _voluntary_ confessions from
persons taxed with witchcraft, was no longer in force. The poor woman
afterwards avowing that what she had told them of her seeing the devil
and so forth was false, ‘they put her in the stocks, and then carried
her to the Thieves’ Hole, and from that transported her to a dark
dungeon, where she was allowed no manner of light, or human converse,
and in this condition she lay for five months.’ During this interval,
the sapient magistrates, with their parish minister, were dealing with
the Privy Council to get the alleged witches brought to trial. At first,
the design was entertained of taking them to Edinburgh for that purpose;
but ultimately, through the humane interference of the Earl of
[Sidenote: 1704.] Balcarres and Lord Anstruther,[359] two members of
council connected with the district, the poor women were set at liberty
on bail (August 12). This, however, was so much in opposition to the
will of the rabble, that Beatrix Laing was obliged to decamp from her
native town. ‘She wandered about in strange places, in the extremity of
hunger and cold, though she had a competency at home, but dared not come
near her own house for fear of the fury and rage of the people.’
It was indeed well for this apparently respectable woman that she, for
the meantime, remained at a distance from home. While she was wandering
about, another woman, named Janet Cornfoot, was put in confinement at
Pittenweem, under a specific charge from Alexander Macgregor, a
fisherman, to the effect that he had been beset by her and two others
one night, along with the devil, while sleeping in his bed. By torture,
Cornfoot was forced into acknowledging this fact, which she afterwards
denied privately, under equal terror for the confession and the
retractation. However, her case beginning to attract attention from some
persons of rank and education in the neighbourhood, the minister seems
to have become somewhat doubtful of it, and by his connivance she
escaped. Almost immediately, an officious clergyman of the neighbourhood
apprehended her again, and sent her back to Pittenweem in the custody of
two men.
Falling there into the hands of the populace, the wretched woman was
tied hard up in a rope, beaten unmercifully, and then dragged by the
heels through the streets and along the shore. The appearance of a
bailie for a brief space dispersed the crowd, but only to shew how
easily the authorities might have protected the victim, if they had
chosen. Resuming their horrible work, the rabble tied Janet to a rope
stretching between a vessel in the harbour and the shore, swinging her
to and fro, and amusing themselves by pelting her with stones. Tiring at
length of this sport, they let her down with a sharp fall upon the
beach, beat her again unmercifully, and finally, covering her with a
door, pressed her to death (January 30, 1705). A daughter of the
[Sidenote: 1704.] unhappy woman was in the town, aware of what was going
on, but prevented by terror from interceding. This barbarity lasted
altogether three hours, without any adequate interruption from either
minister or magistrates. Nearly about the same time, Thomas Brown, one
of those accused by the blacksmith, died in prison, ‘after a great deal
of hunger and hardship;’ and the bodies of both of these victims of
superstition were denied Christian burial.
The matter attracted the attention of the Privy Council, who appointed a
committee to inquire into it, but the ringleaders of the mob had fled;
so nothing could be immediately done. After some time, they were allowed
to return to the town free of molestation on account of the murder.
Well, then, might Beatrix Laing dread returning to her husband’s
comfortable house in this benighted burgh. After a few months, beginning
to gather courage, she did return, yet not without being threatened by
the rabble with the fate of Janet Cornfoot; wherefore it became
necessary for her to apply to the Privy Council for a protection. By
that court an order was accordingly issued to the Pittenweem
magistrates, commanding them to defend her from any tumults, insults, or
violence that might be offered to her.
At the close of this year, George and Lachlan Rattray were in durance at
Inverness, ‘alleged guilty of the horrid crimes of mischievous charms,
by witchcraft and malefice, sorcery or necromancy.’ It being
inconvenient to bring them to Edinburgh for trial, the Lords of Privy
Council issued a commission to Forbes of Culloden, Rose of
Kilravock, ... Baillie, commissary of Inverness, and some other
gentlemen, to try the offenders. The judges, however, were enjoined to
transmit their judgment for consideration, and not allow it to be put in
execution without warrant from the Council.
On the 16th July 1706, a committee of Council took into consideration
the verdict in the case of the two Rattrays, and finding it ‘agreeable
to the probation,’ ordained the men to be executed, under the care of
the magistrates of Inverness, on the last Wednesday of September next to
come. This order is subscribed by Montrose, Buchan, Northesk, Forfar,
Torphichen, Elibank, James Stewart, Gilbert Elliot, and Alexander
Douglas.
[Sidenote: AUG. 25.]
The functions of the five Lords Commissioners of Justiciary being of the
utmost importance, ‘concerning both the lives and fortunes of her
majesty’s lieges,’ the parliament settled on these [Sidenote: 1704.]
officers a salary of twelve hundred pounds Scots each, being about one
hundred pounds sterling.[360] They had previously had the same income
nominally, but being payable by precept of the commissioners of the
treasury, or the cash-keeper, it was, like most such dues, difficult to
realise, and, perhaps, could scarcely be said to exist.
At this time, the fifteen judges of the Court of Session had each two
hundred pounds sterling per annum, the money being derived from a grant
of £20,000 Scots out of the customs and interest on certain sums
belonging to the court.[361] Five of them, who were lords of the
criminal court also, were, as we here see, endowed with a further
salary, making three hundred in all. The situation of president—‘ane
imployment of great weight, requiring are assiduous and close
application,’ says the second President Dalrymple[362]—had usually, in
addition to the common salary, a pension, and a present of wines from
the Treasury, making up his income to about a thousand a year. By the
grace of Queen Anne, after the Union, the puisne judges of the Court of
Session got £300 a year additional, making five hundred in all;[363] and
this was their income for many years thereafter, the president
continuing to have one thousand per annum. In the salaries of the same
officers at the present day—£3000 to a puisne civil judge, with expenses
when he goes on circuit; £4800 to the President; and to the Lord
Justice-clerk, £4500—we see, as powerfully as in anything, the contrast
between the Scotland of a hundred and fifty years ago, and the Scotland
of our own time.
[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]
Patrick Smith professed to have found out a secret ‘whereby malt may be
dried by all sorts of fuel, whether coals, wood, or turf, so as to
receive no impression from the smoke thereof, and that in a more short
and less expensive manner than hath been known in the kingdom.’ He
averred that ‘the drink brewn of the said malt will be as clear as white
wine, free of all bad tincture, more relishing and pleasant to the
taste, and altogether more agreeable to human health than the ale hath
been heretofore known in the kingdom.’ Seeing how ‘ale is the ordinary
drink of the inhabitants thereof,’ the public utility of the discovery
was obvious. Patrick announced himself to the Privy Council as
[Sidenote: 1704.] willing to communicate his secret for the benefit of
the country, if allowed during a certain term to use it in an exclusive
manner, and sell the same right to others.
Their Lordships granted the desired privilege for nine years.
[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]
Ever since the year 1691, there had been a garrison of government
soldiers in Invergarry House, in Inverness-shire, the residence of
Macdonald of Glengarry. The proprietor esteemed himself a sufferer to
the extent of a hundred and fifty pounds a year, by damages to his lands
and woods, besides the want of the use of his house, which had been
reduced to a ruinous condition; and he now petitioned the government for
some redress, as well as for a removal of the garrison, the ‘apparent
cause’ of planting which had long ago ceased, ‘all that country being
still peaceable and quiet in due obedience to authority, without the
least apprehension of disturbance or commotion.’
The Council ordered Macdonald to be heard in his own cause before the
Lords of the Treasury, in presence of Brigadier Maitland, governor of
Fort-William, that a statement might be drawn up and laid before the
queen. ‘His circumstances,’ however, ‘being such, that he cannot safely
appear before their Lordships without ane personal protection,’ the
Council had to grant a writ discharging all macers and messengers from
putting any captions to execution against him up to the 20th of
September.