This able judge and philosopher in advance of his time—for such he
was—is described by his biographer, Lord Woodhouselee, as indulging
in a certain humorous playfulness, which, to those who knew him
intimately, detracted nothing from the feeling of respect due to his
eminent talents and virtues. To strangers, his lordship admits, it
might convey ‘the idea of lightness.’ The simple fact here shadowed
forth is that Lord Kames had a roughly playful manner, and used
phrases of an ultra-eccentric character. Among these was a word only
legitimately applicable to the female of the canine species. The writer
of the _Garland_ introduces this characteristic phrase. When his
lordship found his end approaching very near, he took a public farewell
of his brethren. I was informed by an ear-and-eye witness, who is
certain that he could not be mistaken, that, after addressing them in
a solemn speech and shaking their hands all round, in going out at the
door of the court-room he turned about, and casting them a last look,
cried in his usual familiar tone: ‘Fare ye a’ weel, ye bitches!’ He
died eight days after.
It was remarked that a person called _Sinkum the Cawdy_, who had a
short and a long leg and was excessively addicted to swearing, used to
lie in wait for Lord Kames almost every morning, and walk alongside
of him up the street to the Parliament House. The mystery of Sterne’s
little, flattering Frenchman, who begged so successfully from the
ladies, was scarcely more wonderful than this intimacy, which arose
entirely from Lord Kames’s love of the gossip which Sinkum made it his
business to cater for him.
These are not follies of the wise. They are only the tribute which
great genius pays to simple nature. The serenity which marked the
close of the existence of Kames was most creditable to him, though
it appeared, perhaps, in somewhat whimsical forms to his immediate
friends. For three or four days before his death, he was in a state of
great debility. Some one coming in, and finding him, notwithstanding
his weakness, engaged in dictating to an amanuensis, expressed
surprise. ‘How, man,’ said the declining philosopher, ‘would you ha’e
me stay wi’ my tongue in my cheek till death comes to fetch me?’