and tell him of his consequence and felicity in belonging to the
memorable clan of Fraser, and if he said his name was Simon to give him
half-a-crown, at that time no small gift in Stratheric; but the old
women, of all others, were those he was at most pains to win, even in
the lowest ranks. He never was unprovided with snuff and flattery, both
which he dealt liberally among them, listened patiently to their old
stories, and told them others of the King of France, and King James, by
which they were quite captivated, and concluded by entreating that they
impress their children with attachment and duty to their chief, and they
would not fail to come to his funeral and assist in the coranach _keir_.
At Castle Downie he always kept an open table to which all comers were
welcome, for of all his visitors he contrived to make some use;--from
the nobleman and general by whose interest he could provide for some of
his followers, and by that means strengthen his interest with the rest,
to the idle hanger-on whose excursions might procure the fish and game
which he was barely suffered to eat a part of at his patron's table.
Never was there a mixture of society so miscellaneous as was there
assembled. From an affectation of loyalty to his new masters Lovat paid
a great court to the military stationed in the North; such of the
nobility in that quarter as were not in the sunshine, received his
advances as from a man who enjoyed court favour, and he failed not to
bend to his own purposes every new connection he formed. In the mean
time the greatest profusion appeared at table while the meanest
parsimony reigned through the household. The servants who attended had
little if any wages; their reward was to be recommended to better
service afterwards; and meantime they had no other food allowed to them
but what they carried off on the plates: the consequence was, that you
durst not quit your knife and fork for a moment, your plate was snatched
while you looked another way; if you were not very diligent, you might
fare as ill amidst abundance as the Governor of Barataria. A surly
guest once cut the fingers of one of these harpies when snatching his
favourite morsel away untasted. I have heard a military gentleman who
occasionally dined at Castle Downie describe those extraordinary
repasts. There was a very long table loaded with a great variety of
dishes, some of the most luxurious, others of the plainest--nay,
coarsest kind: these were very oddly arranged; at the head were all the
dainties of the season, well dressed and neatly sent in; about the
middle appeared good substantial dishes, roasted mutton, plain pudding
and such like. At the bottom coarse pieces of beef, sheeps' heads,
haggiss, and other national but inelegant dishes, were served in a
slovenly manner in great pewter platters; at the head of the table were
placed guests of distinction, to whom alone the dainties were offered;
the middle was occupied by gentlemen of his own tribe, who well knew
their allotment, and were satisfied with the share assigned to them. At
the foot of the table sat hungry retainers, the younger sons of younger
brothers, who had at some remote period branched out from the family;
for which reason he always addressed them by the title of 'cousin.'
This, and a place, however low, at his table, so flattered these
hopeless hangers-on, that they were as ready to do Lovat's bidding "in
the earth or in the air" as the spirits are to obey the command of
Prospero."
"The contents of his sideboard were as oddly assorted as those of his
table, and served the same purpose. He began,--'My lord, here is
excellent venison, here turbot, &c.: call for any wine you please;
there is excellent claret and champagne on the sideboard. Pray, now,
Dunballock or Killbockie, help yourselves to what is before you; there
are port and lisbon, strong ale and porter, excellent in their kind;'
then calling to the other end of the table,--'Pray, dear cousin, help
yourself and my other cousins to that fine beef and cabbage; there is
whiskey-punch and excellent table-beer.' His conversation, like his
table, was varied to suit the character of every guest. The retainers
soon retired, and Lovat (on whom drink made no impression) found means
to unlock every other mind, and keep his own designs impenetrably
secret; while the ludicrous and careless air of his discourse helped to
put people off their guard; and searchless cunning and boundless
ambition were hid under the mask of careless hilarity."
But darker deeds even than these diversified the pursuits of a man who
had quitted the prisons of Angoulême and of Saumur only to wreak, upon
his own faithful and trusting clansmen, or his neighbours, as well as
his foes, the vindictive cruelty of a nature utterly depraved, not
softened even by kindness, still less chastened by a long series of
misfortunes.
Lovat's re-establishment at the head of his clan seems to have
intoxicated him, and the display of his power to have risen into a
ruling passion. Above all, he boasted of it to Duncan Forbes, whose
endurance of this wretched ally's correspondence lasted until the
pretended friendship was succeeded by avowed treachery to the Government
to which he had professed such gratitude, and to the King and Prince
whom he was wont to call "the bravest fellows in the world."[214]
In accordance with this spirit of self-glorification was Lovat's
erection of two monuments,--filial piety dictating the inscription on
one of them, that dedicated to his father, and his own audacious vanity
assisting in the composition of the tribute to his own virtues.
It was his Lordship's favourite boast that at his birth a number of
swords which hung up in the hall of his paternal home leaped themselves
out of their scabbards, denoting that he was to be a mighty man of arms.
The presage was not fulfilled, but Lord Lovat's ingenuity suggested the
following means of imposing upon the credulity of his simple clansmen,
by the composition of an epitaph which he erected in the old church of
Kirkhill, a few miles from Castle Downie.
TO THE MEMORY OF
THOMAS LORD FRASER, OF LOVAT,
Who chose rather to undergo the greatest hardships of fortune than
to part with the ancient honours of his house, and bore these
hardships with undaunted fortitude of mind.
This monument was erected by
SIMON LORD FRASER OF LOVAT, HIS SON.
Who, likewise, having undergone many and great vicissitudes of good
and bad fortune, through the malice of his enemies, he, in the end,
at the head of his clan, forced his way to his paternal inheritance
with his sword in his hand, and relieved his kindred and followers
from oppression and slavery; and both at home and in foreign
countries, by his eminent actions in the war and the state, he has
acquired great honours and reputation.
Hic tegit ossa lapis Simonis fortis in armis,
Restituit pressum nam genus ille suum:
Hoc marmor posuit cari genitoris honori,
In genus afflictum par erat ejus amor.
Sir Robert Munro, who was killed at the battle of Falkirk, being on a
visit to Lord Lovat, went with his host to see this monument. "Simon,"
said the brave and free-spoken Scotsman, "how the devil came you to put
up such boasting romantic stuff?" "The monument and inscription,"
replied Lovat, "are chiefly for the Frasers, who must believe whatever I
require, their chief, of them, and then posterity will think it as true
as the Gospel." Yet he did not scruple, when it suited his purpose, to
designate his clansmen, the lairds around him, as "the little pitiful
barons of the Aird;"--this was, however, when writing to his friends of
opposite politics to the Frasers, generally to Duncan Forbes.
The devotion of his unfortunate adherents can hardly be conceived in the
present day. In the early part of his career, before his rapacity, his
licentiousness, and falsehood were fully known, one may imagine a
fearless and ardent young leader, of known bravery, engaging the
passions even of the most wary among his followers in his personal
quarrels: but it is wonderful how, when the character of the man stood
revealed before them, any could be found to lend their aid to deeds
which had not the colour of justice, nor even the pretence of a generous
ardour, to recommend them to the brave. But Lovat was not the only
melancholy instance in which that extraordinary feature in the Highland
character, loyalty to a chieftain, was employed in aiding the darkest
treachery, and in deeds of violence and cruelty.
For many years, Lovat revelled in the indulgence of the fiercest
passions; but he paid in time the usual penalty of guilt. His name came
to be a bye-word. Every act of violence, done in the darkness of
night,--the oppressions of the helpless, the corruption of the
innocent,--every plot which was based upon the lowest principles, were
attributed to him. His vengeance was such, that while the public knew
the hand that dealt out destruction, they dared not to name the man. The
hated word was whispered by the hearth; it was muttered with curses in
the hovel; but the voice which breathed it was hushed when the band of
numerous retainers, swift to execute the will of the feudal tyrant, was
remembered. His power, thus tremblingly acknowledged, was fearful; his
wrath, never was appeased except by the ruin of those who had offended
him. With all this, the manners of Lord Lovat were courteous, and, for
the times, polished; whilst beneath that superficial varnish lay the
coarsest thoughts, the most degrading tastes. His address must have been
consummate; and to that charm of manner may be ascribed the wonderful
ascendancy which he acquired even over the respectable part of the
community.
Something of his ready humour was displayed soon after Lord Lovat's
restoration to his title, in his rencontre with his early friend, Lord
Mungo Murray, in the streets of Edinburgh. Lord Mungo had sworn to
avenge the wrongs and insults inflicted by Lord Lovat on himself and
Lord Saltoun, whenever he had an opportunity. Seeing Lord Lovat
approaching, he drew his sword and made towards him as fast as he
could. Lord Lovat, being near-sighted, did not perceive him, but was
apprised of his danger by a friend who was walking with him; upon which
his Lordship also drew, and prepared for his defence. Lord Mungo, seeing
this, thought proper to decline the engagement, and wheeled round in
order to retire. The people crowded about the parties, and somewhat
impeded Lord Mungo's retreat; upon which Lord Lovat called out to the
people, "Pray, gentlemen, make room for Lord Mungo Murray," Lord Mungo
slank away, and the affair ended without bloodshed.
An affair with the profligate Duke of Wharton, was very near ending more
fatally. Lord Lovat, during the year 1724, happening to be in London,
mingled there in the fashionable society for which his long residence in
France had, in some measure, qualified him. In the course of his
different amusements, he encountered one evening, at the Haymarket, the
beautiful Doña Eleanora Sperria, a Spanish lady who had visited England
under the character of the Ambassador's niece. His attentions to this
lady, and his admiration of her attractions, were observed by the
jealous eye of the Duke of Wharton, who immediately sent him a
challenge. Lord Lovat accepted it, replying, that "none of the family of
Lovat were ever cowards," and appointing to meet the Duke with sword and
pistol. The encounter took place in Hyde-park. They first fired at each
other, and then had recourse to the usual weapon, the sword. Lovat was
unlucky enough to fall over the stump of a tree, and was disarmed by
Wharton, who gave him his life, and what was in those days perhaps even
still more generous, never boasted of the affair until some years
afterwards.
Lovat lived, however, chiefly in Scotland. Four children were born to
writhe under his sway; the eldest, Simon, the Master of Lovat, gentle,
sincere, of promising abilities, and upright in conduct, suffered early
and late from the jealousy of his father, who could not comprehend his
mild virtues. This unfortunate young man was treated with the utmost
harshness by Lord Lovat, who kept him in slavish subjection to his own
imperious will, and treated him as if he had been the offspring of some
low-born dependant, instead of his heir. Still, those who were
well-wishers to the Lovat family, built their hopes upon the virtues of
the young Master of Lovat, and they were not deceived. Although forced
by his father to quit the University of St. Andrews, where he was
studying in 1745, and to enter into the Rebellion, he retrieved that
early act by a subsequent respectability of life, and by long and
faithful services.
But there was another victim still more to be pitied, and over whose
destiny the vices of Lord Lovat exercised a still more fatal sway than
on those of his son. The story of Primrose Campbell is, perhaps, the
saddest among this catalogue of crimes and calamities.
She was the daughter of John Campbell, of Mamore, and the sister of John
Duke of Argyle, the friend and patron of Duncan Forbes; and she had
been, by Lovat's introduction, for some time a companion of his first
wife.[215] Lord Lovat, about the year 1732, became a widower. He then
cast his eyes upon the ill-fated Miss Campbell, and sought her in
marriage. The match was of great importance to him, on account of the
family connection; and Lord Lovat had reason to believe, that whatever
the young lady might think of it, her friends were not opposed to the
union. She was staying with her sister, Lady Roseberry, when Lovat
proffered his odious addresses. She to whom they were addressed, knew
him well: for she entertained the utmost abhorrence of her suitor, and
repeatedly rejected his proposals. At last, he gained her consent to the
union which he sought, by the following stratagem. Miss Campbell, while
residing still with her sister in the country, received a letter,
written apparently by her mother, and, beseeching her immediate
attendance at a particular house in Edinburgh, in which she lay at the
point of death. The young lady instantly set out, and reached the
appointed place: here, instead of beholding her mother, she was received
by the hated and dreaded Lovat.[216] She was constrained to listen to
his proffers of marriage; but she still firmly refused her assent. Upon
this, Lord Lovat told the unhappy creature that the house to which she
had been brought was one in which no respectable woman ought ever to
enter;--and he threatened to blast her character upon her continued
refusal to become his wife. Distracted, intimidated by a confinement of
several days, the young lady finally consented. She was married to the
tyrant, who conveyed her to one of his castles in the North, probably to
Downie, the scene of his previous crimes. Here she was secluded in a
lonely tower, and treated with the utmost barbarity, probably because
she could neither conceal nor conquer her disgust to the husband of her
forced acceptance. Yet outward appearances were preserved: a lady, the
intimate friend of her youth, was advised to visit, as if by accident,
the unhappy Lady Lovat, in order to ascertain the truth of the reports
which prevailed of Lord Lovat's cruelty. The visitor was received by
Lovat with extravagant expressions of welcome, and many assurances of
the pleasure which it would afford Lady Lovat to see her. His Lordship
then retired, and hastening to his wife, who was secluded without even
tolerable clothes, and almost in a state of starvation, placed a costly
dress before her, and desired her to attire herself, and to appear
before her friend. His commands were obeyed; he watched his prisoner and
her visitor so closely, that no information could be conveyed of the
unhappiness of the one, or of the intentions of the other.[217] This
outrageous treatment, which Lord Lovat is reported, also, to have
exercised over his first wife, went on for some time. Lady Lovat was
daily locked up in a room by herself, a scanty supply of food being sent
her, which she was obliged to devour in silence. The monotony of her
hapless solitude was only broken by rare visits from his Lordship.
Under these circumstances, she bore a son, who was named Archibald
Campbell Fraser, and who eventually succeeded to the title. In after
years, when he frowned at any contradiction that she gave him, Lady
Lovat used to exclaim, "Oh, boy! Dinna look that gate--ye look so like
your father." These words spoke volumes.
The character of the lady whose best years were thus blighted by
cruelty, and who was condemned through a long life to bear the name of
her infamous husband, was one peculiarly Scotch. Homely in her habits,
and possessing little refinement of manner, she had the kindest heart,
the most generous and self-denying nature that ever gladdened a house,
or bore up a woman's weakness under oppression. The eldest son of Lord
Lovat, Simon, was a sickly child. His father, who was very anxious to
have him to his house, placed him under Lady Lovat's charge; and,
whenever he went to the Highlands, left her with this pleasing
intimation, "that if he found either of the boys dead on his return, he
would shoot her through the head." Partly through fear, and partly from
the goodness and rectitude of her mind, Lady Lovat devoted her
attentions so entirely to the care of the delicate and motherless boy,
that she saved his life, and won his filial reverence and affection by
her attention. He loved her as a real parent. The skill in nursing and
in the practical part of medicine thus acquired, was never lost; and
Lady Lovat was noted ever after, among those who knew her, as the "old
lady of the faculty."
Family archives, it is said, reveal a tissue of almost unprecedented
acts of cruelty towards this excellent lady. They were borne with the
same spirit that in all her life guided her conduct,--a strict
dependance upon Providence. She regarded her calamities as trials, or
tests, sent from Heaven, and received them with meek submission. In
after years, during the peaceful decline of her honoured life, when a
house near her residence in Blackfriars Wynd, Edinburgh, took fire, she
sat calmly knitting a stocking, and watching, occasionally, the progress
of the flames. The magistrates and ministers came, in vain, to entreat
her to leave her house in a sedan; she refused, saying, that if her hour
was come, it was in vain for her to think of eluding her fate: if it
were not come, she was safe where she was. At length she permitted the
people around her to fling wet blankets over the house, by which it was
protected from the sparks.
She seems, however, to have made considerable exertions to rid herself
from an unholy bond with her husband. Like many other Scottish ladies of
quality, in those days, her education had been limited; and it was not
until late in life that she acquired the art of writing, which she then
learned by herself without a master. She never attained the more
difficult process of spelling accurately.
She now, however, contrived to make herself understood by her friends in
this her dire distress: and to acquaint them with her situation and
injuries, by rolling a letter up in a clue of yarn, and dropping it out
of her window to a confidential person below. Her family then
interfered, and the wretched lady was released, by a legal separation,
from her miseries. She retired to the house of her sister, and
eventually to Edinburgh. When, in after times, her grand nephews and
nieces crowded around her, she would talk to them of these days of
sorrow. "Listen, bairns," she was known to observe, "the events of my
life would make a good novel; but they have been of sae strange a
nature, that I'm sure naebody wad believe them."[218]
But domestic tyranny was a sphere of far too limited a scope for Lord
Lovat: his main object was to make himself absolute over that territory
of which he was the feudal chieftain; to bear down everything before
him, either by the arts of cunning, or through intimidation. Some
instances, singular, as giving some insight into the state of society in
the Highlands at that period, have been recorded.[219] Very few years
after the restitution of his family honours had elapsed, before he
happened to have some misunderstanding with one of the Dowager Lady
Lovat's agents, a Mr. Robertson, whom her Ladyship had appointed as
receiver of her rents. One night, during the year 1719, a number of
persons, armed and disguised, were seen in the dead of night, very busy
among Mr. Robertson's barns and outhouses. That night, the whole of his
stacks of corn and hay were set on fire and entirely consumed. Lord
Lovat was suspected of being the instigator of this destruction; yet
such was the dread of his power, that Mr. Robertson chose rather to
submit to the loss in silence than to prosecute, or even to name, the
destroyer.
A worse outrage was perpetrated against Fraser of Phopachy, a gentleman
of learning and character, and one who had befriended Lord Lovat in all
his troubles, and had refused to join with Fraserdale in the Rebellion
of 1715. Mr. Fraser had the charge of Lord Lovat's domestic affairs,
more especially of his law contests, both in Edinburgh and in London.
When accounts were balanced between Lord Lovat and Mr. Fraser, it was
found that a considerable sum was due to the latter. Among his other
peculiarities Lord Lovat had a great objection to pay his debts. As
usual, he insulted Fraser, and even threatened him with a suit. Mr.
Fraser, knowing well the man with whom he had to deal, submitted the
affair to arbitration. A Mr. Cuthbert of Castlehill was chosen on the
part of his Lordship; the result was, a decision that a very
considerable sum was due to Fraser. Lord Lovat was violently enraged at
this, and declared that Castlehill had broken his trust. Not many days
afterwards, Castlehill Park, near Inverness, was invaded by a party of
Highlanders, armed and disguised; the fences and enclosures were broken
down, and a hundred of his best milch-cows killed. Again the finger of
public opinion pointed at Lovat, but pointed in silence, as the author
of this wicked attack. None dared to name him; all dreaded a summary
vengeance: his crimes were detailed with a shudder of horror and
disgust; their author was not mentioned.
Lord Lovat, moreover, instantly commenced a law-suit against Fraser, in
order to set aside the arbitration. This process, which lasted during
the lifetime of the victim, was scarcely begun when one night Fraser's
seat at Phopachy, which, unhappily, was near the den of horrors, Castle
Downie, was beset by Highlanders, armed and disguised, who broke into
the house and inquired for Mr. Fraser. He was, luckily, abroad. The
daughters of the unfortunate gentleman were, however, in the house; they
were bound to the bed-posts and gagged; and, doubtless, the whole
premises would have been pillaged or destroyed, had not a female servant
snatched a dirk from the hands of one of the ruffians; and although
wounded, defended herself, while by her shrieks she roused the servants
and neighbours. The villains fled, all save two, who were taken, and
who, after a desperate resistance, were carried off to the gaol at
Inverness; they were afterwards tried, and capitally convicted of
housebreaking, or _hamesaken_, as it is called in Scotland, and
eventually hung. It appeared, from the confession of one of these men to
a clergyman at Inverness, that the same head which planned the
destruction of Mr. Robertson's stacks had contrived this outrage, and
had even determined on the murder of his former friend, Mr. Fraser. But
the hour was now at hand in which retribution for these crimes was to
be signally visited upon this disgrace to his species.[220]
One more sufferer under his vile designs must be recorded, the unhappy
Lady Grange. In that story which has been related of her fate, and which
might, indeed, furnish a theme for romance, she is said to have ever
alluded to Lord Lovat as the remorseless contriver of that scheme which
doomed her to sufferings far worse than death, and to years of
imbecility and wanderings.[221] The subtlety of Lord Lovat equalled his
fierceness; it is not often that such qualities are combined in such
fearful perfection. He could stoop to the smallest attentions to gain an
influence or promote an alliance: a tradition is even believed of his
going to the dancing-school with two young ladies, and buying them
_sweeties_, in order to conciliate the favour of their father, Lord
Alva.
His habitual cunning and management were manifested in his discipline of
his clan. It was his chief aim to impress upon the minds of his vassals
that his authority among them was absolute, and that no power on earth
could absolve them from it; that they had no right to inquire into the
merits or justifiableness of the action they were ordered to engage in;
his will ought to be their law, his resentment a sufficient reason for
taking his part in a quarrel, whether it were right or wrong.
One can hardly conceive that it could be requisite for the Frasers to
give any fresh proof of their obedience and fealty; yet it seems to have
required a continual effort on the part of Lord Lovat to establish his
authority and to keep up his dignity among the Frasers. The reason
assigned for this is, that though they were his vassals, tenants, and
dependants, yet they must be brought to acknowledge his sovereignty;
otherwise, when on some emergency he might require their assistance,
they might assume their natural right of independence, and refuse to
rise. It was Lord Lovat's policy, therefore, to discourage all
disposition in his clansmen to enter trade or to go to sea and seek
their fortunes abroad, lest they should both shake off their dependence
on him, and also, by emigrating, diminish the broad and pompous retinue
with which he chose to appear on all occasions. It was therefore his
endeavour to check industry, to oppose improvement, to preach up the
heroism of his ancestors, who never stooped to the meannesses of
commerce, but made themselves famous by martial deeds. "Never," thus
argued the chieftain, "had those brave men enervated their bodies and
debased their minds by labours fit only for beasts or stupid drudges.
Should not the generous blood which flowed in their veins still animate
the brave Frasers to deeds of heroism?"[222]
Notwithstanding all these exalted sentiments, the chief, who was set
upon this pinnacle of power, hesitated not to retain a hired assassin
for the purpose of executing any of his dark projects. Donald Gramoach,
a notorious robber, was long in the employ of Lovat, who lavished large
sums upon him. At length, in the year 1742, this man was apprehended,
lodged in Dingwall Gaol; and being convicted of robbery, was sentenced
to be hanged. Lord Lovat immediately despatched a body of his
Highlanders to rescue the prisoner; but the magistrates were aware of
his intentions; the prison was doubly guarded, and the culprit met with
his due punishment.