While Charles II. was sojourning in Scotland, before the battle of
Worcester, his chief confidant and associate was the laird of Cockpen,
called by the nick-naming fashion of the times, “Blythe Cockpen.” He
followed Charles to the Hague, and by his skill in playing Scottish
tunes, and his sagacity and wit, much delighted the merry monarch.
Charles’s favourite air was “Brose and Butter;” it was played to him
when he went to bed, and he was awakened by it. At the restoration,
however, Blythe Cockpen shared the fate of many other of the royal
adherents; he was forgotten, and wandered upon the lands he once owned
in Scotland, poor and unfriended. His letters to the court were
unpresented, or disregarded, till, wearied and incensed, he travelled to
London; but his mean garb not suiting the rich doublets of court, he was
not allowed to approach the royal presence. At length, he ingratiated
himself with the king’s organist, who was so enraptured with Cockpen’s
wit and powers of music, that he requested him to play on the organ
before the king at divine service. His exquisite skill did not attract
his majesty’s notice, till, at the close of the service, instead of the
usual tune, he struck up “Brose and Butter,” with all its energetic
merriment. In a moment the royal organist was ordered into the king’s
presence. “My liege, it was not me! it was not me!” he cried, and
dropped upon his knees. “You!” cried his majesty, in a rapture, “you
could never play it in your life--where’s the man? let me see him.”
Cockpen presented himself on his knee. “Ah, Cockpen, is that you?--Lord,
man, I was like to dance coming out of the church!”--“I once danced
too,” said Cockpen, “but that was when I had land of my own to dance
on.”--“Come with me,” said Charles taking him by the hand, “you shall
dance to _Brose and Butter_ on your own lands again to the nineteenth
generation;” and as far as he could, the king kept his promise.
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~Topography.~