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BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY

EMINENT SCOTSMEN.

EDITED BY

EGBERT CHAIIBERS,

ONE OF THE EDITOKS Oe " COAMBlias'S EDINBUEGU JOUENAL.'

KEW EDITION. PiEVISED AXD CONTINUED TO THE PEESENT TIME.

WITH NUMEROUS PORTRAITS.

DIVISION V.
HORNER— LESLEY.

BLACKIE AND SON:

GLASGOW, EDINBURGH. AND LONDON

THF w^v: "-r^y

J not

.U DEN foundations!

l921

OLASOOW :

W. 0. BLACKIR AKD CO., PBIWTEB3,

VILLA FIELI..

W FL1ET©IH][EI]^.

or SAlTO-OTf.

P THE EARL OF BTJCHAIT.

BiACJOE a> soir, gi

■QHtlCmDOK.

'SngCSyA'^yy S. "Pr-g arna-n .

o^.s ^^ (^ A f^ f^:n)f^ [B IE

J.a>ge

aiR ©E(D)[S(SE mf^t

PROM THE ORIGINAL PAn-TriNG IN THE ADVOCATES lIBBAKri:DINB"aE,C-H ^

BLAjCKIE * SOH. eiiASGOVr. EMNBUHSHScLONDOI]'.

"nji'aytic. qy S.SecmffT'

".\'":vj-:;-v31':t of giasgqw

a I

L ^P? Beedhj:

^k

^TT.

L,L. D. P. R.S^ E.ScE. Sec,

FRANCIS HORNER. 89

cnsli payments of the bank ; tliis, tlicy thought, could not be safely done at an
earlier period than two years from the time of their report ; but they recom-
mended that early provision should be made by parliament for this purpose."
This report excited much discussion both within and without tiie walls of the
house. The press swarmed with pamphlets on the present state of the currency,
and the remedies proposed ; — the journals teemed with dissertations on the same
subject ; — the comparative merits of a metallic and a paper currency formed the
topic of discussion in every company ; — ministers opposed the committee's pro-
position ; — and finally, Mr Vansittart, at the head of the anti-bullionists or
practical men, as they called themselves, got a series of counter-resolutions passed
afier four nights' keen discussion, in which the speeches of Mr Horner and seve-
ral other members extended to three liours' length.

Although defeated in their struggle, the appearance which IMr liorner made
in it, was so highly respectable as to deepen the impression which his talents
and knowledge had already made on the house ; and from this period he appears
to have exei'cised very considerable influence Avith all parties. Indeed, the
urbanity of his manners, and the moderation with which he pressed his own
views, were such as secured for him the respect, at least, of those from whom he
differed in opinion ; and while steadily and consistently supporting the party to
which he belonged, he displayed a spirit of tolerance towards his opponents
Avhich totally subdued any thing like personal animosity on their part. His
efforts were then often more successful than those of more gifted men, who, witli
greater talents, have nevertheless greater piejudice, frequently amounting to
personal dislike, to struggle against. It has been supposed that had Mr Horner
been in parliament after the death of Mr Fonsonby, he would have become the
leader of the opposition. But for an honour so great as this, providence had
not destined him. Constant application to business and the increasing weight
and multiplicity of his engagements, at last overpowered a constitution which
never was very strong. Indications of pulmonary consumption soon appeared,
and inunediate removal to a warmer climate was deemed necessary by his physi-
cians. Crossing, therefore, to the continent, he passed through France and
entered Italy ; but the seeds of mortal disease had begun to spring before he
took farewell of his own country, and he expired at Pisa, on the 8th of Febru-
ary, 1817, in the 38th year of his age. His remains were interred in the Pro-
testant bui-ying-gTOund at Leghorn, which also contains the ashes of Smollett.

On the occasion of a new writ being moved for the borough of St Mawes,
which DIr Horner had represented, the character of the deceased member was
elegantly sketched by lord iMorpeth, and eloquent and affecting tributes of respect
paid to liis memory by several of the most distinguished members of the house.

A contemporary, who was acquainted with Mr Horner, both at school and at
the university, thus expresses his opinion of him : " The characteristics of Mr
Horner's mind, if I apprehend them rightly, were clearness of perception,
calmness of judgment, and patience of investigation : producing as their conse-
quences, firmness of conduct and independence of principles. Carrying these
qualities into public life, he evinced greater moderation and forbearance than
are often found in the narrow and comparatively unambitious strifes of a less
extended scene. He entered parliament at rather an early age, and soon
became not only a useful and conspicuous man of business, but drew more
respect to his personal character, and was regarded by both orders of the House
of Commons with greater confidence and interest, than any young member had
attracted, perhaps, since the early days of Mr Pitt. This will appear higher
praise when it is added, with truth, that no man coming into that iionse under
the patronage of a whig nobleman could have acted with greater liberality
III. M

90 JOHN HORSLEY,

towards extended ideas of popiilnr right, — with more fairness and firmness to
tlie persons of liis opponents, — or with more apparent latitude of individual
judgniunt, on some of the most trying' o<:<;asions, in all those scenes that have
occurred in our recent parliamentary history. As a puhlic speaker, he was not
remarkal)le for tiie popular graces and attractions. If eloquence consists in
rousing the passions by strong metaphors, — in a»vakening the sympathies by
studied allusions, — or in arresting attention by the sallies of a mind rich in
peculiar associations, 31r Horner >vas not elofjuent. 15ut if elocpience be the art
of persuading by accurate reasoning, and a right adjustment of all the parts of
a discourse, by the powers of aLict which is rather intellectually right than prac-
tically fine, IVlr Horner was eloquent. He spoke witii the steady calmness of
one who saw his way on principle, while he felt it simply and immediately,
through sobriety of judgment and good conduct ; and never seemed to be more
excited by his subject, or more carried away in the vehemence of debate, than
to make such exertions as left one uniform impression on the minds of his
hearers tliat lie spoke from an honest internal conviction and from a real desire
to be useful. In private life, he was distinguished by an impressive graveness
which would have appeared heavy, had it not been observed in permanent con-
junction with an easy steadiness of conversation, and a simplicity of manners very
far from any thing cold, affected, or inelegant His sense of honour was high
and decided. His taste for literature, like his taste for conduct, was correct
As his acts of friendsliip or of duty were done without effort or finesse, so did
he enjoy witli quietness and relish those tender and deeply felt domestic affec-
tions wiiich can sweeten or even adorn almost any condition of life. He was
not fitted to win popularity, but his habitual moderation, — his unaffected respect
for every thing respectable that was opposed to him, — and the successful pains
which he took to inform himself well on tiie grounds and nature of every busi-
ness in which he bore a part, gained him an influence more valuable to a man of
judgment, than popularity."

Mr Horner sat to the celebrated Raeburn for his pictine some years before
his denuse. The painter has produced a faithful likeness, but no engraving of
it has yet been executed.

HOltSLIiY, John, an eminent antiquary, liistorian, and divine, was born at
Pinkie House in .Mid-Lothian, in the year 10 85. His parents were English
non-conformists, who are supposed to have fled into Scotland on account of the
persecution in tiie reign of Charles II. How it happened that they resided at
Pinkie House, then the property of the earl of Dunfermline, as successor to the
estiles of the abbey of Dunfermline, is not known. It is clearly ascertained that
his progenitors belonged to Northumberland, and were of no mean standing. His
pareiiU returned to Norlhuiiiberland immediately after the Revolution, and it is
understood lliat tbe subject of this notice received the initiatory part of his edu-
cation at tiie Newcastle grammar school. He was thereafter sent to pursue his
a.uidemical studies at lulii.burgh ; and it would appear, that at a very early a^e
aa we find by tlie laureation book of the college, he was admitted master of arts
in 1701 , being then just sixteen years of age. After finishing his theological
course, ho returne.l to Kngiaml, and preached for several years merely as a
licentiate ; but in 1 7:i 1 , he was ordained minister of a congregation of Protestant
dissenters at -Morpetli. His mind, however, was directed to other pursuits be-
sules his profession, and his great attainments in geology, mathematics, and most
ot the other abstruse sciences, of which he gave unquestionable proofs, would
prol,ably have gamed him a wider and more permanent fame in the present day
than at a time when their principles were in general little understood,
and less attended to. In 1722 he invented a simple and ingenious mode of

JOPIN TIORSLEY. 91

determining the averag'e quaiuity of rain wiiicli fell, by means of a funnel, tlie
Avider cylinder of which was thirty inches in diameter, and terminated in a
pipe three inches in diameter, and ten in length ; the latter being graduated in
inches and tentlis. Ten measures of the pipe being equal to one inch of the
cylinder, one measure to one-tenth of an inch, one inch of the measure to
one-hundred, and one-tenth to one-thousand part, — the depth of any parti-
cular quantity of rain which fell might be set down in decinuils with ease and
exactness ; and tiic whole, at the end of each month or year, summed up
without any trouble. Shortly after, and probably in consequence of this inven-
tion, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society, and connnenced giving public
lectures on hydrostatics, mechanics, and various brandies of natural philosophy,
at 3Iorpeth, Alnwick, and Newcastle. His valuable apparatus for illustrating and
explaining his lectures, after passing through various hands after his death, were,
in 1821, deposited in the library belonging to the dissenters in Ked Cross
Street, London, being bequeathed to the public by Dr Daniel Williams. By manu-
scripts afterwards found among 3Ir Horsley's papers, it appears that about the
year 1728, he conceived the idea of writing a history of Northumberland, and
from the extensive design of the work which he had sketched out, embracing its
antiquities, traditions, geological structure, &c., and his ability for the task, it is
nmch to be regretted that he did not live to complete it. A map of the same
county, commenced by him, was afterwards completed by IMr Mai'k, the sur-
veyor employed by him, and published at Edinburgh in 1753. Wr Horsley
also published a small book on experimental philosophy, in connexion with the
course of lectures above noticed. His great work, however, by ^vhich his name
will most probably be transmitted to posterity, and to ^vhich he dedicated the
greater part of his short but busy career, is his " Britannia Romana," or the
Roman affairs of Britain, in three books. This work is in folio, and consists of
five hundred and twenty pages, Avith plates exhibiting maps of the Roman posi-
tions, copies of ancient coins, sculptures, inscriptions, &:c. It is dedicated to Sir
Richard Ellys, Bart., contains a lengthy preface, a chronological table of occur-
rences during the Roman domination, a copious index of the Roman names ot
people and places in Britain, &c It was printed at London for John Os-
borne and Thomas Longman, &:c., in 1732 ; but Mr Horsley lived not to see
the fate of a work which had unceasingly engrossed his time, thoughts, and
means for several years. His death took place at fliorpeth, on the I 5th .Janu-
ary, 1732, exactly thirteen days after the date of his dedication to Sir Richard
Ellys, and while yet in his 4l)th year. The enthusiastic ardour with which he
devoted himself to this work, may be gleaned from the following passage in the
preface: — "It is now four years since I was prevailed with to complete this
^vork, for which time I have pursued it with the greatest care and application.
Several thousand miles were travelled to visit ancient monuments, and re-ex-
amine them where there ^vas any doubt or difficulty." He also went to London
to superintend the progress of his work through the press, and engaged in an
extensive correspondence on the subject with many of the most learned writera
and antiquaries of the day. The " Britannia" is now a very I'are work, and it
would appear that the plates engraved for it are entirely lost. IMr Horsley was
married early in life to a daughter of a professor Hamilton, who, according to
Wood, in his Ancient and Modern State of Cramond, was at one time minister
of that parish. By her he had two daughters, one of whom was married to a
I\lr Randall, clerk in the Old South Sea House, London ; the other to Samuel
Halliday, esq., an eminent surgeon at Newcastle. From a passage in his manu-
script history of Northumberland, it would also appear that he had a son, but we
find no other mention made of him, either in his own writings or elsewhere.

92 ALEXANDER HUME.

Tlie greater part of 31r Horsley's various unfinished works, correspondence, and
other iimnuscripls, fell after liis death into the hands of the late John Cay, Esq.
of lulinbur^rh, <;real-graiidion of .Mr Robert Cay, an eminent printer and publisher
at Ne»<-.aslie, to whose jidgnient in the compiling, correcting, and getting up of
the IJriL-innia Homana, .^Ir Iloi-sley appeai-s to have been much indebted. From
these papei-s, as printed in a small biographical work by the Rev. John Hodgson,
yicar of Whelpinglon in Northumberland, published at Newcastle in 1S31, the
most of the f.icU contained in this brief memoir were taken.

HUMIi, Alexander, a vernacular poet of the reign of James VI,, was the
second son of I'atrick Hume, fifth baron of Rohvarth. Until revived by the
tisteful researches of Dr Lcyden, the works of this, one of the most elegant
of our early poets, lay neglected, and his name was unknown except to the
antiquary. He had the merit of superseding those " godlie and spiritual sangis
and ballatis," which, however sacred they may have once been held, are pro-
nounced by the present age to be ludicrous and blasphemous, with strains where
piety and taste combine, and in which the feelings of those who wish to peruse
writings on sacred subjects, are not outraged. The neglect «hich has long
obscured the works of this poet, has impeded inquiries as to his life and charac-
ter. He is supposed to have been born in tlie year loiJO, or within a year or
two prior to that date. Late investigators have found that he studied at St
Andrews, and that he may be identified with an Alexander Hume, who took the
degree of Bachelor of Arts at St Leonard's college of that university in the year
1574. The outline of his farther passage through life is expressed in his own
words, in his epistle to 31r Gilbert 3Ioncriefl', the king's physician. He there
mentions, that, after spending four years in France, he was seized with a desire
to become a lav,yer in his own cotnnry, and he there draws a pathetic picture
of the miseries of a briefless barrister, sufficient to extract tears from half the
faculty.

" To that effect, lliree } ears or near that space,

J haunted maist our liighest pleading place

And senate, where great causes reason 'd war;

IVIy breast wds bruisit with leaning on the bar-

My buttons brist, I partly spitted blood.

My gown was trail'd and trampid quliair I stood ;

r.Iy ears were deiTd «Ttli mai-^sirs cryes and din

Quliilk procurdtoris and parties callit in.''

Nor did the moral aspect of the spot convey a more soothing feeling than the

physical. He found

" Tile puir abusit ane hundredth divers wayes ;
Poslpon'd, deffer'd with shifts and mere dela_\ es,
Consumit in gudes, ourset with grief and paine."

From the corrupt atmosphere of the law, he turned towards the pure precincts of
the court ; but here he linds that

" From tiie rocks of Cyclades fra hand,
1 struck into Gharybdis sinking sand."

He proceeds to say that, " for reverence of kings he will not slander courU,"
yet he lias barely maintained his politeness to royal ears, in his somewhat vivid
description of all that the calm poet experienced during his apprenticeship at
coiu-t.

" 111 courts, Montciief, is pi ide, envie, contention,

Dissjmulaiicft, despite, disceat, dissention,

Kiar, whisperings, reports, and new suspition,

1- laud, treiison, lies, dread, guile, and sedition ;

ALEXANDER HUME. 93

(iiMt greadiiiL's, and prodigalitie;
Lusts Sensual, ami partialitie,"

witli a continued list of similar qualifications, whose applicability is likely to be
perceived only by a disappointed courtier, or a statesman out of place. During
the days of his following the bar and the court, it is supposed that Hume joined in
one of those elegant poeti<;al amusements called " Klytings," and that he is the
person who, under the designation of " Pol wart,'" answered in (itliiig style to
the abuse of Montgomery. 'I'hat Alexander Hume was the person who so
officiated, is, however, matter of great doubt : Dempster, a contemporary, men-
tions that the person who answered IMontgomery was Patrick Hume, a name
which answers to that of the elder brother; and though Lcyden and Sibbald
justly pay little attention to such authority, knowing- that Dempster is, in general,
as likely to be wrong as to be right, every Scotsman knows that the patrimo-
nial designation " Fohvart," is more appropriately the title of the elder than of
the younger brother; while Patrick Hume of Polwarth, a more fortunate cour-
tier, and less seriously disposed than his brother, has left behind him no mean
specimen of his genius, in a poem addressed to James VI., entitled " The Pro-
mise." Whichever of the bi'others has assumed Polwart's share in the contro-
versy, it is among- the most- curious specimens of the employments of the elegant
minds of the age.

If the sacred poet, Alexander Hume, was really the person who so spent his
youthful genius, as life advanced he turned his attention to more serious matters ;
that his youth was spent more unprofitably than his riper years approved, is
displayed in some of his writings, in terms more bitter than those which are
generally used by persons to whom expressions of repentance seem a becoming
language. He entered into holy orders, and at some period was appointed
minister of Logie, a pastoral charge of which he performed with vigour the humble
duties, until his death in 1609.

Before entering on the Avorks which he produced in his clerical retirement,
it may be right to observe that much obscurity involves his literary career, from
the circumstance that three other individuals of the same name, existing at the
same period, passed lives extremely similar, both in their education, and in their
subsequent progress. Thi'ee out of the four attended St Mary's college at St
Andrews in company; — presuming that the subject of our memoir took his degree
of Bachelor of Arts in 1574, one of his companions nmst have passed in 1571,
the other in 1572. It is supposed that one of these was minister of Dunbar in
1582 ; the other is known to have been appointed master of the High school
af Edinburgh in 1590, and to have been author of a few theological tracts,
and of a Latin grannnar, appointed by act of parliament, and by the privy
council, to be used in all grannnar S(;hools in the kingdom : this individual has
been discovered by Dr M'Crie, to have afterwards successively officiated as rector
of the grammar schools of Salt-Preston and of Dunbar. The fourth Alex-
ander Hume, was a student at St Leonard's college, St Andrews, where he
entered in 1578 : he too was a poet, but the only existing specimen of his com-
position is the following simple tribute to the labours of I'ellenden, inscribed
on a blank leaf of the manuscript of the translation of Livy,

" F)ve buikus ar Jmre by Ballantyne translated,
Restis yet ane hundred thretlie fwe behind ;
Quilkis if the samyn war als weill compleated,
Wiild be ane volume of ane monstrous kind.'

' The ingenious poet probably overlooks the fact of so many of Livy's books being lost, with
the delibera-.e purpose of increasing the ellect of his verses.

94 ALEXANDER HUME.

Ilk man perfytes not quhat tliey once Intend,

So frail and brittle ar our wretched dayes ;

Let sume man then begine quliair he doeth end,

Give him the fii-st, t.ik tliame the secund praise :

No, no ! to Titus Livius give all,

That peerlts prince for featlis historicall."

M. A. Home, St Lconardes.

A siDiilI manuscript volume benriiij^ tlie name of Alexander Hume, and entitled
" lierum Scolii^arum Compendium," is probably from the pen of one of these
four, but of which, it may now be impossible to determine.

Alexander Ihnne, minister of Logic, is, however, the "jndoubted author of
" IlyuMies or Sacred Songs, wherein the right use of poesie may be espied:
whereunto are added, the experience of the author's youth, and certain precepts
serving to the practice of sanctification." This vohnne, printed by Waldegrave
in 15U9, was dedicated to I'Mizabeth 3Ielvill, by coin-tesy styled lady Culross, a
woman of talent and literary habits, the authoress of '' Ane godlie dream, com-
pylit in Scottish meter," printed at Aberdeen in 1G44. The Hymns and Sacred
Songs have been several times partially reprinted, and the original having fallen
into extreme rarity, the whole has lately been reprinted by the 13annatyne club.
In the prose introduction, the author addressing the youth of Scotland, exhorts
them to avoid " profane sonnets and vain ballads of love, the fabulous feats of
J'almerine, and su<;h like reveries." — " Some time," he adds, " I delighted in
such fantasies myself, after the manner of riotous young men: and had not the
Lord in his mercy pulled me aback, and wrought a great repentance in me, I
had doubtless run forward and employed my time and study in that profane and
unprofitable exercise, to my own perdition." The first of his hymns he styles
his " liecantation :" it commences in the following solemn terms:

Alace, how long have I delay ed

To leave the laits* of youth !

Ahice liow oft have I essayed

To daunt my lascive moutli,

And make my va\ne polluted thought.

My pen and speech prophaine,

Extoll the Lord quiiilk madeofnocht

The heaven, tlie earth, and maine.

Skarce nature yet my face about,
Hir virile net had spun,
Quhen als oft as Phoebea stout
Was set agains the Sun :
Yea, als oft as the fierie flames
Arise and shine abroad,
I minded was with sangsand psalms
To glorifie mj God.

But ay the cimcred carnall kind,
Quhilk lurked me witliin,
Seduced my heart, withdrew ni) mind,
And made me sclave to sin.
My senses and my s;iull I saw
Debait a deadlie strife.
Into m\ flesh I felt a law
Gainstand llie Law of life.

' Habits or manners.

ALEXANDER HUME.

Even as the falcon high^ and hait

Furth fleeing in the skye,

^Vilh wanton wing hir game lo gaif,

Disdaines her ciJler's crj' ;

S'o led away with liberty,

And drowned in delight,

1 waiidred after vanitie —

My vice I give the wight.

Hut by far the most beautii'ul composition in the collection, is that entitled the
" Day Estival," tlie one which Leyden has thought worthy of revival. This
poem presents a description of tlie progress and eflects of a simimer day in
Scotland, accompanied by tlie reflections of a mind full of natural piety, and
a delicate perception of the beauties of the physical world. The easy flow of
the numbers, distinguishing it from the liarsher productions of the same age,
and the arrangement of the terms and ideas, prove an acquaintance with Eng-
glish poetry ; but the subject and the poetical thoughts are entirely the author's
own. They speak strongly of the elegant and fastidious mind, tired of the
bar, and disgusted with the court, finding- a balm to the wounded spirit, in being
alone with nature, and watching her progress. The style has an unrestrained
freedom which may please tlie present age, and the contemplative feeling thrown
over the whole, mingled with the artless vividness of the descriptions, bringing
the objects immediately before the eye, belong to a species of poetry at which
some of tlie highest minds have lately made it their study to aim. AVe shall
quote the commencing stanza, and a few others scattered in different parts of
the Poem :

O perfect light! which shed away
The darkness from the light.

And left one ruler o'er the day.
Another o'er the night.

Thy glory, when the day forth flies,

More vively does appear
Nor at mid-day unto our eyes

The shining sun is clear.

The shadow of the earth anone

Removes and drawis by;
831)6 in the east, when it is gone,

Appears a clearer sky :
Which soon perceives the little larks,

The lapwing, and the snipe;
And tunes their songs, like nature's clerks,

Our meadow, moor, and stripe.
« • • •

'J he time so tranquil is and still,

That no where shall ye find,
Save on a high and barren hill.

An air of passing wind.
All trees and simples, great and small,

That balmy leaf do bear,
Nor they were painted on a wall

No more they move or stir.
Calm is the deep and purpour sea.

Yea smoother nor the sand :

96

ALEXANDER HUMR.

The vraltis that weltering wont to b€
Are stiible like the land.

\Vliat pleasure 'twere to w-alk and see,

Endlong a river cltar,
Tlie pirfect form of every tice

Witliin the deep appear;
Tiie «;dmon out of croovts and creels

Up hauled into skouts.
The bells and ciriles on the vreills

Through iuuping of the trouts.
O then it were a seemly thing,

While all is still and cjilme,
The praise of God to play and sing

\Viih cornet and with shalme.
Rowe, in his manuscript History of the Cluirch of Scotland, has told us that
Hume " «as one of those godlie and faitliful servants, who had witnessed against
the hierarchy of prelates in this kirk." He proceeds to remark, " as to 3Ir
Alexander Hoome, minister at Logie beside Stirlin, 1 rixt mention iiim : he has
left ane admonition behind him in write to the kirk of Scotland, therein he
affirmes that the bishops, who were then fast rising up, had left the sincere
ministei-s, who wold gladlie have keeped still tiie good old government of the
kirk, if tliese corrupt ministers had not left them and it: earnestlie entreating
the bishdps to leave and forsake that cotuse wherin they were, els their defection
from their honest brethren, (with whom they had taken the covenant.) and from the
cause of (iod, would be registrate afterwards to their eteriiale shame." The person
who has reprinted Hume's Hymns and Sacred Songs for the Bannatyne club, has
discovered among the elaborate collections of Wodrow, in the Advocate's Library, a
small U-act entitled, " Ane afold Admonition to the Ministerie of Scotland, be
ane deing brother," uhich he, not without reason, presumes to be that mentioned
by Rowe; founding the supposition on the similarity of the title, the applica-
bility of the matter, and a minute circumstance of iiUernal evidence, «hich
shows that the admonition was written very soon after the year U)(37, and very
probably at such a period as might have enabled Hume (who died in 1G09) to
have denominated himself *' ane deing brother." Tlie whole of this curious
production is conceived in a style of assumption, which cannot have been verj'
acceptable to tlie spiritual pride of the Scottish clergy. It commences in the
following terms of apostolical reprimand : — " Grace, mercy, and peace from
God the Father, through our Lord Jesus Christ. It is certainlie kiiawin, bre-
theren, to the grehfof numie godlie heartes and slander of the Gospell, that thair
ar dissentionis among you : not concerning the covenant of <iod, or the seales of
the covenant, but ciiietlie <;oncerning twa poyntis of discipline or kirk govern-
ment, ^vharanent you are divydit in twa faciionis or opinionis." From this as-
sumed superiority, tiie admonitionist stalks forth, bearing himself in lofty terms,
never I'ondesceiiding to argue, but directing like a superior spirit ; and under
the ('hristian term of humility, " bretheren," concealing an assumption of spiri-
tual superiority, >\hich the \\ord "sons" would hardly have suffic-ienily ex-
presse*!.

HL'.MF, David, of <iods(Tofl. The scantiness of tlie materials for lives of liter-
ary Scotsmen lirs, wilii us, often been a subject of remark and regret ; and we
arc sun; that every one who has had occasion to make investigations into this de-
partment of our national history will at once acquiesce in its truth. Our states-
men liave been applauded or condemned — at all events they have been immor-
talized — by contemporary writei-s; tiie deeds of our soldiers have been celebrated

ALEXANDER HUME. 97

in woi-ks relative to our martial achievements ; and our divines have alua\s an<l
more especially in the darker ages, preserved a knowledoe of themselves and
tiieir transactions, — but literary men are nearly forgotten, and for ^vliat is known
of them wo are principally indebted to the labours of continental biographers. It
would be ditlicult to point out a more striking illustration of this than the well
known individual whose name appears at the head of this article. His name is
familiar to every one who is in the least degree conversant with Scottish liistory
or poetry ; — he was descended from an honourable family — he acted a prominent
part in some of the earlier transactions of his own time, and still almost nothin<>-
is known of his history. The indefatigable Wodrow has preserved many scattered
hints regarding him in his IJiograpliical Collections in the library of Glas"^ow col-
lege, and except this we are not aware of any attempt at a lengthened biographi-
cal sketch of him. In drawing up the following, we shall take many of our facts
from that biography, referring also to the excellent works of Dr M'Crie, and
occasionally supplying deficiencies from the few incidental notices of himself in
Hume's works.

David Hume, it is probable, was boi-n about, or a few years prior to, the
period of the Keformation. His father was Sir David Hume, or Home, of Wed-
derburn, the representative of an old and distinguished family in the south oi
Scotland. His mother was Mary Johnston, a daughter of Johnston of Elphin-
stone. This lady died early, and her husband, after having married a second
wife, Avho seems to have treated his family in a harsh and ungenerous manner,
died of consumption while the subject of this memoir was a very young man.
The family thus left consisted of four sons — George, David, James, and John ;
and four daughters — Isabell, Margaret, Julian, and Joan.

Of the early education of David Hume, we have not been able to learn almost
any thing. His elder brother and he were sent to the public school of Dunbar,
then conducted by I\lr Andrew Simson, and there is abundant evidence that he
made very considerable progress in the acquisition of classical knowledge. He
has left a poem, entitled Daphn-Amaryllis, written at the age of fourteen, and
he incidentally mentions the expectations George Buchanan formed of his future
eminence from his early productions. After receiving, it may be conjectured, the
best education that a Scottish university then afforded, Hume set out for France,
accompanied by his relation, John Haldane of Gleneagles. His intention was to
have also made the tour of Italy, and for that purpose he had gone to Geneva,
when his brother's health became so bad as to make his return desirable. On
receiving the letters containing this information, he returned to Scotland without
delay, "and arrived," to use his own words in his History of the Family of Wed-
derburn, " much about the time that Esme, lord Aubigny, (who was afterwards
made duke of Lennox,) was brought into Scotland — and that Morton began to
decline in his credit, he being soon after first imprisoned, and then put to death ;"
that is about the beginning cf 1581.

Sir George Home seems to have recovered his health soon afterwards, and
David was genei'ally left at his castle to manage his affairs, while he was engaged
in transactions of a more difficult or hazardous nature. This probably- did not
continue long, for the earliest public transaction in which we have found him
engaged took place in 1583. When king James VI. withdrew from the party
commonly known by the name of the Ruthven lords, and re-admitted the earl of
Arran to his coimcils, Archibald, " the good earl " of Angus, a relation of Hume's
family, was ordered to confine himself to the north of Scotland, and accordingly
resided for some time at the castle of Brechin, the property of his bi-other-in-la'w
the earl of 31ar. At this period Hume seems to have lived in Angus's house, in
the capacity of a " familiar servitour," or confidential secretary.

98

ALEXANDER HUME.

When Uie liuthven party were driven into England, Hume accompanied his
maiter and relation; and wliile tiie lords remained inactive at Newcastle, request-
ed leave to go to London, A\liere he intended pursuing his studies. To this
Angus consented, with tiie ulliniate intention of employing him as his agent at
the English court. During the whole period of his residence at the English
capiUil, he maintained a regular correspondence wilii the earl, but only two of
his letters (which he has printed in the History of the Houses of Douglas and
Angus) have come down to us.

'llie Kutiiven lords returned to Scotland in 15S5, but soon offended the
clergy by their want of zeal in providing for the security of the church, 'iheir
wralh was still farther kindled, by a sermon preached at this time before the
king at Linlithgow, by .lohn Craig, in which the offensive doctrine of obedience
to princes was enforced, A letter was accordingly prepared, insisting upon the
claims of the church, and transmitted to Mr Hume, to be presented to Angus. A
very long conference took place betwixt the earl and Hume, which he has set
down at great length in the above-mentioned work. He begins his own discourse
by refuting the arguments of Craig, and shows, that although it is said in his text,
" 1 said ye are gods," it is also said, ''Nevertheless ye shall die ;" ' which two,
Hume continues, " being put together, the one shows princes their duty — Do
justice as God doth ; the other threateneth punishment — Ye shall die if you do
it not." He then proceeds to show, that the opinions of Bodinus in his work
De Kepublica, and of his own countryman Blackwood [see Blackwood], are absurd;
and having established the doctrine that tyrants may be resisted, he ajtplies it to
the case of the I?uthven lords, and iuslifies the conduct of Angus as one of that
party. He then concludes in the following strain of remonstrance: — " \our
declaration which ye published speaks much of the public cause and common
weal, but you may perceive what men think your actions since they do not answer
thereto by this letter, for they are begun to think that howsoever you pretend
to the public, yet your intention was fixed only on your own particular, because
you have done nothing for the chur(;h or country, and have settled your own
particular. And it is observed, that of all the parliaments that were ever held in
this country, this last, held since you came home, is it in which alone there is no
mention of the churcih, either in the beginning thereof, (as in all others there
is,) or elsewhere throughout. This neglect of the state of the church and coun-
try, as it is a blemish of your fact obscuring the lustre of it, so is it accounted
an error in policy by so doing, to separate your particular irom the common
cause of the church and country, which, as it liath been the mean of your parti-
cular restitution, so is it the only mean to maintain you in this estate, and to
make it sure and firm."

During the subsequent short period of this earl's life, Hume seems to have re-
tained his confnlence, and to have acted the part of a faithful and judicious ad-
viser. After Angus's death, which took place in 1588, it is probable that he
lived in retirement. Accordingly, we do not find any further notice of him till
he appeared as an author in 1C05.

One of king .iames's most favourite projects was the union of the kingdoms of
England and Sc^otland, and soon after his ac'cession to the English throne, com-
inissioners were appointed to consider the grounds upon which this object could
be safely and advantageously attained. It would altogether exceed our limits
were we to give even a faint outline of the proceedings of these connuissioners,
and it is the less necessary as their delil)erations did not lead to the desired re-
sult. The subject, however, met with the attention of the most learned of our
countrymen. The first work written on this subject was from the pen of Robert
Pont, one of the most respectable clergymen of his day, and a senator of the col-

ALEXANDER HUME. 99

lege of justice, while ecclesiastics were peiiuitietl to hold tliat office. His work,
wliich was published in IdOi, is in liie forni of a dialogue between three iniagi-
nary personages — Irenreus, I'oKliistor, and Hospes, and is now cliietly interesting
as conuiining some striking remarks on the state of tlie country, and the obstacles
to the administration of justice, ~ Pont was followed by David Hume, our author,
who published next year his treatise, UeUnione Insulce Britanni^p, of \Nhich bishop
Nicholson only says that " it is written in a clear Latin style, such as the author
was eminent for, and is dedicated to the king: it shows hou great an advantage
such a union would bring to the island in general, and in particular to the se-
veral nations and people of England and Scotland, and answers the objections
against the change of the two names into that of Britain — the alteration of the
regal style in writs and processes of law — the removal of the parliament and other
courts into England," 6jc, The first part only of this work of Hume's v\as pub-
lished. Bishop Nicholson mentions that a iMS. of the second part «as in Sir
liobert Sibbald's collection, and Wodrow also possessed \>liat he considered a
very valuable copy of it. It would be improper to pass from this part of our
subject, without referring to Sir Thomas Craig's work on the same subject,
^\hich still remains unprinted ; although in the opinion of his accomplished
biographer, 31r Tytler, " in point of matter and style, in the importance of the
subject to which it relates, the variety of historical illustrations, the sagacity of
the political remarks, and the insight into the mutual interests of the two cjun-
tries which it exhibits, it deserves to rank the highest of all his works."

In the year 1603, Hume commenced a correspondence on the subject of epis-
copacy and presbytery with James Law, then bishop of Orkney, and afterwards
promoted to the archiepiscopal see of tilasgow. Ihis epistolary warfare took its
rise in a private conversation between 3Ir Hume and the bislmp, when he came
to visit the presbytery of Jedburgh in that year. The subject presented by much
too large a field to be exhausted at a private meeting, and accordingly supplied
materials for their conmiunications for about three years. But here again we are
left to lament that so little of it luis been preserved. Calderwood has collected
a few of the letters, but the gaps are so frequent, and consequently so little
connexion is kept up, that they would be entirely uninteresting to a general
reader. In 1613, Hume began a correspondence of the same nature with bishop
Cowper on his accepting the diocese of Galloway. The bishop set forth an
apology for himself, and to this Hume wrote a reply, which, ho\vever, was not
printed, as it was unfavourable to the views of the court. Cowper answered his
statements in his Dicaiology, but printed only such parts of Hume's argument as
could be most easily rel'uted. To this Hume once more replied at great length.

Shortly before this period he undertook the " History of the House of
Wedderburn, (written) by a son of the family, in the year 16 1 1," — a work which
has hitherto remained in manuscript. " It has sometimes grieved me," he
remarks, in a dedication to the earl of Home, and to his own brother, " when
1 have been glancing over the histories of our country, to liave mention made so
seldom of our ancestors, — scarce above once or twice. — and that too very shortly
and superficially; whereas they were always i-emarkable for bravery, mngr.animity,
clemency, liberality, munificence, liospitality, fidelity, piety in religion, and
obedience to their prince ; and, indeed, there never was a family who liad a
greater love and regard for tlieir country, or more earnestly devoted themselves to,
or more frequently risked their lives for, its service. It ought, in a more particular
nunner, to gi-ieve you that they have been go long buried in oblivion, and do
you take care that they be so no more. I give you, as it were, the prelude, or
lay the ground-work of the history : perhaps a pen more equal to the task, or at
least, who can do it with more decency, will give it ilie finishing stroke."

100 ALEXANDER HUME.

He does not enter into a minute inquiry into the origin of the family, a species
of aiiti<iuarianisiii of uhidi it must be confessed our Scottish liistorians are suffi-
ciently foiui : — " .Aly intention," he says, " does not extend farther than to
write those things that are peculiar to tiie House of Wedderljurn." The work
begins nith " David, fust hiird of Wedderburn," who appears to have lived
about the end of tiie fourteenth century, and concludes with an account of the
earlier [>art of his brother's life.

During the latter period of his life, Hume appears to have devoted himself almost
entirely to literary pursuits. He had ajjpeared before the world as a poet in
his " Lusus Toetici," published in 1 (505, and afterwards incorporated into the
excellent collection entitled " Delici.-n Poetarum Scotorum," edited by Dr Arthur
Johnston. He seems to iiave added to his poeti<;al works when years and habits
of study might be supposed to have cooled his imaginative powers. When prince
Henry died, he gave vent to his grief in a poem entitled " Henrici Principis
Justa," which, \\ odi-ow conjectures, was probably sent to Sir James Seniple of
Beltrees, then a favourite at (;ourt, and by whom it is not improbable that it was
shown to his majesty. A few years afterwards (KilT) he wrote his " l^egi Suo
Graticulatio," — a congratulatory poem on the king's revisiting his native country.
In the same year lie prepared (but did not publish) a prose work under the following
title, "Cambdenia; Idest, Examen nonnullorumafiulielmo Cambdeno in 'Britannia'
sua positorum, prascipue quae ad irrisionem Scoticffi gentis, et eoruni et I'ictorunj
falsani originem." " In a very short preface to his readers," says Wodrow,
" 3Ir Hume observes that nothing more useful to this island was ever proposed,
than the union of the two islands, and scarce ever any proposal was more op-
posed ; witness the insults in the House of Commons, and Paget's fury, rather than
speech, against it, for which he was very justly finecL After some other things
to the same purpose, he adds, that IMr Canibden hath now in his Britannia
appeared on the same side, and is at no small labour to extol to the skies

England and his Britons, and to depress and expose Scotland, how unjustly

he does so is Mr Hume's design in this work." Cambden's assertions were also
noticed by William Drummond in his Nuntius Scoto-Britannus, and in another of
his works more professedly levelled against him, entitled ** A Pair of Spectacles
for Cambden."

The last work in whi(;h wc are aware of Hume's having been engaged, is his
largest, and that by which he is best known. The History of the House and Kace of
Douglas and Angus, seems to have been first printed at Edinburgh, by Evan 'I'yler,
in I Gil, but this edition has several discrepancies in the title-pa^e. Some copies
bear the date Kits, " to be sold by T. W. in London," and others have a title
altogether different, " A (Jenerall History of Scotland, together with a particu-
lar iiistory of the houses of Douglas and Angus," but are without date. After
mentioning in the preface that, in writing such a work it is impossible to please
all parties, — that some may say that it is an unnecessary work — others, that it is
merely a party-statement, — and a third complain of " the style, the phrase, the
periods, the diction, and the language," Hume goes on to say, " in all these
])articulars, to sjitisfy all men is more than we can hope for ; yet thus much
shortly of each of them to su(;h as will give ear to reason: tliat I write, and of
this subject, I am constrained to do it, not by any violence or compulsion, but
by the force of duty, as I take it ; for being desired to do it by those 1 would
not refuse, I thought myself hound to honour that name, and in it and by it, our
king and countrey. , , . Touching partiality, I deny it not, but am content to
acknowledge my interest. Neither do I think that ever any man did set pen to
paper without S(uiie particular relation of kindred, countrey, or such like. The
Komans in writing the Komane, the Grecians in writing their Greek histories;

ALEXANDER HUME. 101

friends Avriting to, of, or for friends, may be ihoiiglit partinll, as countreynien and
friends. 1 lie vertuoiis may be deemed to be partial! towai ds the vertuous, and the
godly towards the godly and religious: all writers have some such respect, which
is a kind of partiality. I do not refuse to be tliought to have some, or all of
these respects, and I hope none wil think I do amisse in having them. Pleas-
ing of men, I am so farre from shunning of it, that it is my chief end and scope :
but let it please them to be pleased with vertue, otherwise they slial Hnd nothing
here to please them. If thou findest any thing here besides, blame me boldly ;
and why should any be displeased that wil be pleased with it? would to God I
could so please the world, I should never displease any. I5ut if either of these
(partiality or desire to please) carry me besides the truth, then shal I confesse my
self guilty, and esteem these as great faults, as it is faultie and blame-worthy to
foi-sake the truth. But, otherwise, so the truth be stuck unto, there is no hurt in
partiality and labouring to please. And as for truth, clip not, nor champ not my
words (as some have done elsewhere), and I beleeve the worst affected will not
charge mee with lying. I have ever sought the truth in all things carefully, and
even here also, and that painfully in every point : where I find it assured, I
have set it down confidently ; uhere I thought there was some reason to doubt,
I tell my authour : so that if I deceive, it is my self I deceive, and not thee ;
for I hide nothing from thee that I myself know, and as I know it, leaving
place to thee, if thou knowest more or better, which, if thou doest, impart and
communicate it ; for so thou shonldest do, and so is truth brought to light,
Avhich else would lye hid and buried. 3Iy paines and travel in it have been
greater than every one would think, in correcting my errours ; thine >vill not
^^^e so much, and both of us may furnish matter for a third man to finde out the
truth more exactly, than either of us hath yet done. Help, therefore, but carp

not For the language, it is my mother-tongue, that is, Scottish : and

why not, to Scottish men ? why should I contemne it ? I never thought the
difference so great, as that by seeking to speak English, I would hazard the
imputation of affectation. Every tongue hath its own vertue and gi-ace. Some
are more substantial!, others more ornate and succinct. 'Ihey have also their
own defects and fauliinesses, some are harsh, some are efl'eminate, some are rude,
some affectate and swelling. The Romanes spake from their heart, the Grecians
with their lips only, and their ordinary speech was complements ; especially the
Asiatick (Greeks did use a loose and blown kind of phrase. And who is there
that keeps that golden mean ? For my own part, I like our own, and he that
writes well in it, writes well enough to me. Yet 1 have yeelded somewhat to
the tyrannie of custome and the times, not seeking curiously for words, but
taking them as they come to hand. I acknowledge also my fault (if it be a
fault), tliat I ever accounted it a mean study, and of no great commendation to
learn to write, or to speak English, and have loved better to bestow my pains
and time on forreign languages, esteeming it but a dialect of our own, and that,
(perhaps) more corrupt." The work conmiences with a preface concerning
" the Douglases in general, tliat is, their antiquity, to which is joined their
original, nobility and descent, greatness and valour of the family of the name
of Douglas." The history begins with Sholto Douglag, the fii-st that bore
the name, and the vanquisher of Donald Bane, in the reign of king Salvathius,—
and concludes with the death of Archibald, ninth earl of Angus, who has been
already noticed in the course of this memoir. With this work closes every trace
of David Hume. It is supposed to have been written about lG-25, or between
that period and 1630, and it is not probable that he survived that period long.
Supposing him to have been born about 1500, he must then have attained to
the aire of three score years and ten.

102 DAVID HUME.

Hespecling Hume's merits as a poet, difterent opinii)ns exist. While in
the opinion of Ur Irving he never rises above mediocrity, Dr IM'Crie places
him in a somewhat iiiglier rank : '* Tiie easy structure of his verse reminds us
continually of the ancient models on which it has been formed ; and if de-
Ticient in vigour his fancy has a liveliness and buoyancy which prevents the
reader from wearying of his longest descriptions." These opinions are, after all,
not irreconcilable ; the poetry of Hume possesses little originality, but the
reader is charmed with the readiness and the frequency of his imitations of the
lloman poets.

As an historian, Hume can never become popular. lie is by much too
prolix, — nor will this be wondered at when we consider the age at which he
wrote his principal historical work. To tlie reader, however, who is disposed
to follow him through his windings, he will be a most valuable, and in many
cases, a most amusing author. As the kinsman of tlie earls of Angus, he had
access to many important family papers, from which he has compiled the history
prior to his own time. But when he writes of transactions within his own re-
collection, and more especially those in which he was personally engaged, there
is so nmch judicious remark and honesty of intention, that it cannot fail to in-
terest even a careless reader.

Besides the works which we have mentioned, Hume wrote " Apologia Basi-
lica, Seu ^lachiaveili Ingenium Examinatum, in libro quem inscripsit Frinceps,
4to, Paris, l(i2()." " De Episcopatu, May 1, 1(509, Batricio Simsono." "A
treatise on things indiflerent." " Of obedience to superiors." In the Bio-
graphic Universelle there is a memoir of him, in which it is mentioned that
" Jaques I'"' I'empioye a concilier les diHerends qui s'estaient eleve entre Di^-
moulin et Tilenus au sujet de la justification," and he is also there mentioned as
having written " Le Contr' Assassin, ou lieponse a I'Apologie des Jesuites,"
Geneva, 1G12, 8vo, and " L'Assassinat du Koi, ou Maximes Pratiquees en la
personne du defaut Henrie le Grand," 1G17, Svo.

HlJiME, David, the celebrated metaphysician, historian, and political
ec(moniist, was the second son of Joseph Hume of Ninewells, near Dunso,
and was born in the Tron church parish, Edinburgh, on the 26th of April, 1711,
O. S. His mother was daughter to Sir David Falconer, a judge of the court of
session under the designation of lord Newton, and for some years presidint
of the college of justice. The family of lluiue of Ninewells was ancient
and respectable, and the great philosopher has himself informed us, that on
the side both of father and mother, he was the descendant of nobility, a cir-
cumstance from wiiich he seems to have derived a quiet satisfaction, probably
owing more to his respect for the manners and feelings of the country and age
in which he lived, than to his conviction of the advantages of noble birth. It
is to be regretted that little is known about the early life of Hume, and the
habits of his boyish years. There are indeed very few instances, in which the
information which can be derived about the early habits and inclinations of a
man who has afterwards distinguished himself, repays the labour of research, or
even that of reading the statements brought forward ; Avhile many who have
busied themselves in such tasks have only shown that the objects of their atten-
tion were by no means distinguished from other men, in the manner in which
they have spent their childhood ; but it nmst be allowed that in the case of
Hume, a narrative of the gradual rise and development of that stoical contempt
towards the objects whi<;h distract the minds of most men, that industry without
enthusiasm, that independence without assumption, and strict morality founded
only on reason, which distinguished his conduct through life, might have taught
us a lesson of the world, and would at least have gratified a well grounded

DAVID HUME. 103

curiosity. The absence of such information alloi\s ns, ho^vever, to ni.iko a
general inference, that no part of tlie conduct of the schoolboy was sufficiently
remarkable to be commemorated by his friends, and that, as he was in advanced
life (independent of the celebrity produced by his works) a man of unobserva-
ble and unassuming conduct ; he was as a boy docile, well behaved, and attentive,
without being remarkable either for precocity of talent, or that carelessness and
insubordination which some biogi-aphers have taken pains to bring home to the
subjects of their memoirs. In early infancy Hume was deprived of his father,
and left to the guidance of his mother and an elder brother and sister ; with
the brother who succeeded by birthright to the family property, he ever lived
on terms of fraternal intimacy and affection, and towards his two female relatives
he displayed, through all the stages of his life, an unvarying kindness and un-
remitted attention, which have gone far, along with his other social virtues, in
causing him to be respected as a man, by those who were his most bitter oppon-
ents as a philosopher.

The property of the respectable family of Ninewells was not large, and the
limited share wliich fell to the younger brother precluded the idea of his sup-
porting himself w ithout laboui*. Having finished the course of study Avhich such
an institution was capable of providing, he attended for some time the university
of Edinburgh, then rising in reputation; of his progress in study he gives us
the following account : " I passed through the ordinary course of education with
success, and was seized very early with a passion for literature, which has been
the ruling passion of my life, and the great source of my enjoyments ; my
studious disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a notion that
the law was a proper profession for me : but I found an insurmountable aver-
sion to every thing but the pursuits of philosophy and general learning ; and
wiiile they fancied I was poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Vii-gil
were the authors I was secretly devouring.^ " Of this aversion not only to the
practice, but to the abstract study of the law, in a mind constituted like that of
Hume, guided by reason, acute in the perception of differences and connexions,
naturally prone to industry, and given up to the indulgence neither of passion
nor sentiment, it is difficult to account. We are ignorant of the method by

' It is almost unnecessary to mention, that when we use the words of Hume about himself,
we quote from that curious little memoir called " I\Iy Own Life," written b\ Hume on liis
deatli-bed, and published in 1777, by Mr Strahan, (to whom the manuscript was consigtitd)
previously to its publication in the ensuing edition of the History of England. In a work
which ought to contain a quantity of oiiginal matter proportioned to the imporUince of the
subjects treated, some apology or explanation may be due, for quoting from a production wliich
has been brought so frequently before the public; but in the life of a persor. so well kno«Ti,
and into whose conduct there has been so much investigation, while we try to bring together
as much original matter as it is possible to obtain, we must frequently be contented with
statements modeled according lo our own views, and in our ovn\ language, of facts which have
alread} been frequently recorded. Independent of this ncce=sit>, the memoir of the author
ATilten b) himself, is so characteristic of his mind and feelings, both in the method of the
narrative, and in the circumstances detailed, that an}' life of Hume which might neglect re-
ference to it, must lose a very striking chain of connexion betwixt the mind of the author and
the character of his work';. Let us here remark, that while fin ihe words of Hume himself)
"it is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity," this little memoir
seems to have defied criticism to discover an\ thing injudicious or assuming, eitlier in the de-
tails or reflections. It is true, he has been slightl} accused of speaking with tew much com-
placency of his o«ii good qualities: but be it remarked, those qualities of disposition to studv,
sobriety, and industry, are such as a man of genius is seldom disposed to arrogate to himself^
at least without some hints of the existence of others more brilliant and distinguishing. We
cannot help being of opinion, that the author's philosophical command over his leelings has
prompted him to avoid Ihe extremes which the naiural egotism and vanity of most men would
have caused them to fall into on similar occasions, of either alluding to very high qualities
which the suflVages of others had allowed that they possessed, or gaining credit for humility,
by not recognizing the existence of qualities whicli they know their partial friends would be
ready to admit.

104 DAVID HUME,

which he pursued his legal studies, and this early acquired disgust would at least
hint, that like his friend lord Kanies, he coninienced his career with the repul-
sive drudgery of a writer's ottice, in which his natural taste for retirement and
relle<;ti<)n \\as invaded by a vulj^ar routine of coniniercial business and petty
squabbling, and his acutencss and good taste offended by the tiresome formali-
ties with wiiich it Has necessary lie should occupy mudi valuable time, previous-
ly to exeicising his ingenuity in the higher walks of the profession. But to
tlK;se who are acquainted witii the philosophical, and more especially with the con-
stitutional writings of 31r Hume, the contemptuous rejection of tlie works of the
civilians, and the exorbitant preference for the Roman poets, will appear at least a
singular confession. To him any poet offered a mere subject of criticism, to
be tried by the standard of taste, and not to gratify his sentiment ; while in the
works of the civilians he would have found (and certainly did find) the acute
philosophical disquisitions of minds which were kindred to his own, both in pro-
fundity and elegance, and in the clear and accurate Yinnius, whom he has sen-
tenced with such unbrotherly contempt, he must have found nmch which as a
philosoplier he respected, whatever distaste arbitrary circumstances migiit have
given him towards the subject which that great man treated.

In 1734, tile persuasions of his frien<ts induced 31r Hume to attempt the
bettering of his income by entering into business, and he established himself in
the office of a respectable merchant in Bristol ; but the man who had rejected
the study of the law, was not likely to be fascinated by the bustle of conuuerce,
and probably in opposition to the best hopes and wishes of his friends, in a few
months he relinquished his situation, and spent some years in literary retire-
ment in France, living first at liheims, and afterwards at La Fleche in Anjeau.
*' I there," he says, " laid that plan of life which 1 have steadily and success-
fully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency
of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every ob-
ject as contemptible, except the improvement of my talents in literature ;" and
witli the consistency of a calm and firm mind, he kept his resolution. For
some time previous to this period, Hume nuist have been gradually collecting that
vast mass of observation and reflection \>hich he employed himself during his
retirement in digesting into the celebrated Treatise on Human Nature. In
1737, lie had finished the first two volumes of tliis work, and he then returned
to London to superintend their publication. From this date conunenced the
earliest trat;es of tliat literary and social correspondence which furnishes many
of the most characteristic commentaries on the mental habits of the philosopher.
With Henry Home, afterwards lord Kames, a near neigiibour of the family of
Ninewelis, and probaijly a connexion of the philosopher (for Jie was the first
member of the family who adopted tlie name of Hutne, in preference to the
family name llot/ie,) he contracted an early I'riendship, and a similarity of pur-
suits continued the intercourse. To that gentleman we find the subject of our
memoir writing in the following terms, in December, 1737 : " 1 have been here
near three months, always within a week of agreeing with my printers : and
you may imagine I did not forget the work itself during that time, when I be-
gan to feel some passages weaker for the style and diction than 1 could have
wished. The nearness and greatness of the event roused up my attention, and
made me more difficult to please than when I was alone in perfect tranquillity
in France." '1 he remaining portion of this communication, though given in
the usual placid and playful manner of the author, tells a painful tale of the
ditllculties he had to encounter, and of hope deferred. " But here," he says,
" I must tell you one of my foibles. I have a great inclination to go down to
Scotland this spring to see my friends, and have your advice concerning my

DAVID HUME. 105

philosophical discoveries : but cannot overcome a certain sliaiiie-fncedne?s I
have to appear among you at my yeai-s uithout having got a settlement, or so
much as attempted any. How happens it, that ^\e philosophers cannot as
heartily despise the world as it despises us ? I think in my conscience the
contempt were as well founded on our side as on the other." With this letter
3Ir Hume transmitted to his friend a manuscript of his Essay on 3Iiracles, a
work which he at that period declined publishing along with his other produc-
tions, looking on it as more likely to give offence, from the greater reference
of its reasonings to revealed religion.

Towards the termination of the year 173S, Hume published his " Treatise of
Human Nature ; being an attempt to introduce the experimental method of
reasoning into moral subjects." The fundamental principles on which the
whole philosophy of this Avork is reared, discover themselves on reading the first
page, in the division of all perceptions — in other words, of all the materials of
knowledge which come within the comprehension of the human mind, — into
impressions and ideas. Differing from almost all men who, using other terms,
had discussed the same subject, he considered these two methods of acquiring
knowledge, to differ, not in quality, but merely in degree ; because by an ch-
sei-vation of the qualities of the mind, on the principle of granting nothing
which could not be demonstrated, he could find no real ground of distinction,
excepting that the one set of perceptions was always of a more vivid description
than the other. The existence of impressions he looked on as prior in the
mind to the existence of ideas, the latter being merely dependent on, or re-
flected from the former, which were tlie first inlets of all knowledge. ^Among
perceptions he considered the various methods by A\hich the senses make the
mind acquainted with the external world, and along with these, by a classifica-
tion which might have admitted a better'irrangement, he ranked xhe passions,
which he had afterwards to divide into thrse which were the direct consequents
of the operations of tlie senses, as pain and pleasure, and those which the repe-
tition of impressions, or some other means, had converted into concomitants,
or qualifications of the mind, as haired, joy , pride, djc. By ideas, 3Ir Hume
understood those arrangements of the perceptions formed in the mind by
reasonings or imagination ; and although he has maintained the distinction
between these and the impressions of the senses to be merely in degree,
all that has been either blamed or praised in his philosophy is founded on
the use he makes of this distinction. He has been accused, and not without
justice, of confusion in his general arrangement, and disconnexion in the
subjects he has discussed as allied to each other ; but a careful peruser
of his works will find the division of subject we have just attempted to explain,
to pervade the whole of his extraordinarj- investigations, and never to be de-
parted from, where langiiage allows him to adhere to it. The ideas, or more
faint perceptions, are made by the author to be completely dependent on the
impressions, showing that there can be no given idea at any time in the mind,
to which there has not been a coiTesponding impression conveyed through the
organs of sense. These ideas once existing in the mind, are subjected to tbe
operation of the memory-, and form the substance of our thoughts, and a por-
tion of the motives of our actions. Thus, at any given moment, there are in
the mind two distinct sources of knowledge, (or of what is generally called
knowledge,) — the impressions which the mind is receiving from surrounding
objects throusjh the senses, and the tlioughts, which pass through the mind, modi-
fied and arranged from such impressions, previously experienced and stored up.
Locke, in his arguments against the existence of innate ideas, and Dr Berkeley,
when he tried to show that the mind could contain no abstinrt ideas, (or ideas

106 DAVID HUME.

not connected will, anything which the mind had experienced,) had formed the
outline of a similar division of knowledoe ; but neill.er of ll.em founded on such
a di.lin(-lion, a system of philosupliy, nor uoro lliey, it niay be well conceived,
aware of the extent to whidi the principh^s they suggested might be logically
carried. The division we have endeavoured to define, is the foundation of the
8ci-pti.-al philosophy. The knowledge immediately derived from impressions
is that which truly admits the term " knowledge" to be strictly applied to it ; that
which is founded on experience, derived from previous impressions, is something
which always admits of doubt. While the former are always certain, the mind
being unable to conceive their uncertainty, the latter may not only be conceived
to be' false, but are so much the meresubjects of probability, that there are distinc-
tions in the force which the mind attributes to them — sometimes admitting them
to be doubtlul, and making no more distinction, except in the greater amount ot
probabilities betwixtthat which it pronounces doubtful, and thatwhich itpronounces

certain. As an instance when a man looks upon another man, and hears him

speak, he receives through the senses of hearing and sight, certain impressions, the
existence of which he cannot doubt; on that man, however, being no longer the
object of his senses, the impressions are arranged in his mind in a reflex form,
constituting what 3Ir Hume has called ideas ; and although he may at first be con-
vinced in a manner sufficientlystrong for all practical purposes, that he has actually
seen and heard such a man, the knowledge he has is only a mass of probabili-
ties, which not only admit him to conceive it a possibility that he may not have
met such a man, but actually decay by degrees, so as probably after a consider-
able period to lapse into micertainty, while no better line of distinction can be
drawn betwixt the certainty and the uncertainty, than that the one is produced
by a greater mass of probabilities than the other. The author would have been
inconsistent, had he admitted the reception of knowledge of an external world,
even through the medium of the senses: he maintained all that the mind had
really cognizance of, to be the perceptions themselves ; there was no method of
ascertaining with certainty what caused them. The human mind, then, is thus
discovered to be nothing but a series of perceptions, of wlii(;h some sets have
such a resemblance to each other, that we always naturally arrange them together
in our thoughts. Our consciousness of the identity of any given individual, is
merely a series of perceptions so similar, that the mind glides along them without
observation. A man's consciousness of his own identity, is a similar series of
impressions. " The mind," says the author, " is a kind of theatre, where se-
veral perceptions successively make their appearance — pass, repass, glide away,
and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations. There is properly
no siinplicitij in it at one time, nor identity in different, whatever natural pro-
pensi(ni we may have to imagine that simplicity and identity. The comparison
of the theatre must not mislead us. They are the successive perceptions only
that constitute the mind ; nor have we the most distant notion of the place where
these scenes are represented, or of the materials of which it is composed.'" From
such a conclusion, the passage to scepticism on the inniiateriality of the soul was a
natural and easy step : but on such a suiiject we must be cautious as to the man-
ner in whi(;h we make remarks on the observations made by Hume — we neither
api)ear as among his vindicators, nor for the purpose of disputing his conclusions
— our purpose is, as faithful biographers, to give, as far as our limits and our
knowledge of the subject may admit, a sketch of his leading doctrines, and if
^ve iiave any thing to vindicate, it will be the author's real meaning, which cer-
tain zealous delcnders of Christianity, iiave shown an anxiety to turn as batteries
against it. In his reasonings on the immateriality of the soul he is truly scepti-
' Works (ISiti), i. 3-2V.

DAVID HUME. 107

oal ; that is, while he does not deny the immateriality of the soul, he endeavours
to show tliat the mind can form no certain conception of the immaterial soul.
Hefining on the argument of a reasoning poet, who probably was not aware of
the full nieanina: of his own words when he said —

" Of God above, or man below.

Wliat cnn we reason, but from what w« know,'

the author of the treatise on Human Nature maintained that tlie mere succession
of impressions, of which the mind was composed, admitted of no such impres-
sion as that of the immateriality of the soul, and consequently did not admit
of the mind comprehending in what that immateriality consisted. Let it bo
remembered, that this conclusion is come to in the same manner as tliat against the
consciousness of the mind to the existence of matter; and that in neither case
does the author maintain certain opinions which men believe to be less certain than
they are generally conceived to be, but gives to them a name dirterent from that
which language generally bestows on them — that of masses of probabilities, in-
stead of certainties, — the latter being a term he I'eserves solely for the impressions
of the senses. " Should it here be asked me," says the author, '* whether 1 sin-
cerely assent to this argument, which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and
whether 1 be really one of those sceptics, who hold that all is uncertain, and that
our judgment is not in any thing, possessed of any measures of truth and false-
hood; I should reply, that this question is entirely superfluous, and that neither
I, nor any other person, was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Na-
ture, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as
well as to breathe and feel ; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in
a stronger and fuller light, upon account of their customary connexion with a pre-
sent impression, than we can hinder ourselves from thinking, as long as we are
awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies, when we turn our eyes towards them
in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken the pains to refute the cavils of this
totai scepticism, has really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavoured by
arguments to establish a faculty which nature has antecedently implanted in the
mind, and rendered unavoidable."' With this extremely clear statement, which
shows us, that while Hume had a method of accounting for the sources of our
knowledge differing from the theories of other philosophers, in the abstract cer-
tainty which he admitted to pertain to any knowledge beyond the existence of
an impression, his belief in the ordinary admitted sources of human knowledge was
not less practically strong than that of other people, — let us connect the conclud-
ing words on the chapter on the immortality of the soul : " There is no foundation
for any conclusion a priori, either concerning the operations or duration of any
object, of which 'tis possible for the human mind to form a conception. Any
object may be imagined to become entirely inactive, or to be annihilated in a
moment : and 'tis an evident principle, that whatever we can imagine is pos-
sible. Now this is no more true of matter than of spirit — of an extended com-
pounded substance, than of a simple and unextended. In both cases the meta-
physical arguments for the immortality of the soul are equally inconclusive :
and in both ceases the moral arginnents, and those derived from the analogy of
nature, are equally strong and convincing. If my philosophy, therefore, makes
no addition to the arguments for religion, I have at least the satisfaction to tiiink
it takes nothing from them, but that every thing remains pre<;isely as before."^
Without pretending to calculate the ultimate direction of the philosophy of Hume,
as it regards revealed religion, let us repeat the remark, that many persons

' Wirks, vol. i. p 240.
3 Works i p. 319.

lOS DAVID HUME.

busied theiiuelres in increasing iu terron as an en^ne against the Christian
Ciith, that they niisrht hare the merit of displaying a chivalrous resistance. 'Ihe
pre^iiiDptions thus fonued and fosiered, caused a rigorous inresiijation into the
grounds of all belief, and luany good and able men were startled to find ttiat it
was necessar)- to admit many of ihe positions assumed by their subtle antagonist,
and that they must employ the risorous lo^ic they had brought to the field, in
stoutly fortifying a position he did not attack. They found ' the metaphysical
ailments inconclusive," and " the moral arguments, and those derived from the
anal<^y of nafjre, equally strong and conrincin? :'' and that useful and beautiful
system of natural theology, which has been enriched by the investigations of
Derham, Tucker,* and Paley, gave place to obscure investigations into first
causes, and idle theories on the grounds of belief, ^*hich generally landed the
philosophers in a circle of confusion, and amazed the reader with incomprehen-
sibilities. One of the most clear and original of the chapters of the Treatise on
Human Nature, has provided us with a curious practical instance of the pliability
of the sceptical philosophy of Hume. In treatinj the subject of cause and ertect,
3Ir Hume, with fidelity to his previous dimion of perceptions, found nothing
in the efTect produced on the mind by any two phenomena, of which the one
received the name of cause, the other that of erTect, but two impressions, and no
connexion betwixt them, but the se<juence of the Litter to the former ; attribut-
ing our natural belief that the one is a cause, and the other its erTect, to the habit
of the mind in runnin? from the one impression to ttiat which is its immediate
sequent, or precedent : den\"ine that we can have any conception of cause and
etJect beyond those instances of which the mind has had experience, and which
habit has taught it ; and, finally, denying that mankind can penetrate f^irtlier
into the mysterv-, than the simple knowledge lliat the one phenomenon is
experienced to follow the other. 3Ien of undoubtedly pjre religious faith
hare maintained the justness of this system as a metaphysical one, and it
has found its way into physical science, as a dieck to vague theories, and
the assumption of conjectural causes : in a memorable instance, it was however
attacked as metaphysically subversive of a proper belief in the Deity as a 6i-st
cause. The persons who maintained this arjument, were ansi^ered, that an op-
posite supposition was morally subversive of a necesiiiy for the constant exis-
tence and presence of the Deity ; because, if ■ a cause had the innate power within
it of prod'jcing its common erTect, the whole fabric of the universe had an innate
power of existence and progression in its rarious changes, which dispensed, with
the existence of a supreme regulator."

The second volume of the Treatise on Human Nature, discusses the passions
on the principles laid down at the commencement of the previous volume. The
•ubjects here treated, while they are not of so strikingly original a description
as to prompt ms to enlarge on their contents, may be a more acceptable morsel
to most readers, and certainly may be perused with more of what is termed
satisfaction, than tlie obscure and somewhat disheartening investigations of the
pure metaphysician. Of the usual subtilty and r.culeness of the author they are
of course not destitute ; but the theatre of investigation d">e3 not admit of much
abstraction, and these qualities exercise themselves on subjects more tangible and
comprehensible, tlian those of the author's prior labours.

The pri>duction of the Treatise on Human Nature, stands almost alone in the
history of the liuman mind : let it be remembered that the author bad just
reached that period of existence when the animal spirits exercise their strongest

* Not Joaalt, but Abraham Tucker, who, under the asamed name of "Seardi,'' wrote a
book ou the lisht of nature, in 9 vols., 8vo. An unobtrusive and proroond work, not Ter> in-
Titin^ aud liuJe read, which later phiksopbeis have pillaged withoot eompon rti o n .

DAVID HUME. 109

sw.iy, and tliose whom nature has gifted with talents and observation, are exult-
ing in a brilliant world before them, of which they are enjoying the prospeciive
felicity, without tasting much of the bitterness; and that this extensive treatise,
so varied in the subjects embraced, so patiently collected by a lengiliened labour
of investigation and redaction, and entering on views so adverse to all that rea-
son had previously taught men to believe, and so repulsive to tlie connnon feel-
ings of the world, was the first literary attempt which liie author deigned to
place before tlie public. Perliaps a very close examination of the early habits
and conduct of the author, could the materials of such be obtained, would
scarcely furnish us with a clue to so singular a riddle ; but in a general sense,
we may not diverge far from the truth in supposing, tiiat tlie circin»istan(;es of
his earlier intercourse with the world, had not prompted the author to entertain
a very charitable view of mankind, and that the bitterness thus engendered com-
ing under the cognizance of his rellective mind, instead of turning him into a
stoic and practical enemy of his species, produced that singular system winch,
holding out nothing but doubt as tiie end of all mortal investigations, struck a
silent blow at tlie dignity of human nature, and at much of its happiness. In a
very singular passage, he thus speaks of his comfortless philosophy, and of the
feelings it produces in the mind of its Cain-like fabricator. " I am first
atTrighted and confounded witli that forlorn solitude in which I am placed in my
philosophy, and fancy myself some strange uncouth monster, who, not being-
able to minole and unite in society, has been expelled all human commerce,
and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate. Fain would I run into the crowd
for shelter and warmth, but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such de-
formity. 1 call upon others to join me, in order to make a company apart, but no
one will hearken to me. Every one keeps at a distance, and dreads that storm
which beats upon me from every side. 1 have exposed myself to the enmity of
all metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even theologians ; and can I
wonder at the insults I must sutler ? I have declared my disapprobation of tlieir
systems ; and ran I be surprised if they should express a hatred of mine and of
my person? When I look abroad, I foresee on every side dispute, contradiction,
anger, ciilumny, and detraction. When 1 turn my eye inward, I find nothing
but doubt and ignorance. All the world conspires to oppose and contradict me :
though such is my weakness, that I feel all my opinions loosen and fall of them-
selves, when unsupported by the approbation of others. Every step I take is
with hesitation, and every new reflection makes me dread an error and absurdity
in my reasoning."" In the same spirit he writes to his friend, 3Ir Henry Home,
immediately after the publication of the treatise : ''Those," he says, " who are
accustomed to i-eflect on such abstract subjects, are connnonly full of prejudices ;
and those A\ho are unprejudiced, ai'e unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings.
3Iy principles are also so remote from all the vulgar sentiments on the subject,
that were they to take plai--", they would produce almost a total alteration in
philosophy ; and you know revolutions of this kind are not easily brought
about. "^

Hume, when the reflection of more advanced life, and his habits of unceasing
thought had made a more clear arrangement in his mind, of the prin<;iple3 of
his philosophy, found many things to blame and alter in his treatise, not so
nmch in the fundamental arginnents, as in their ^vant of arrangement, and tlie
obscure garb of words in which he had clothed them. On the feelings he
entertained on this subject, ^^'e find him after\vards writing to Dr John Ste\\art,
and we shall here quote a rather mutilated fragment of this epistle, which luis

* Works, i. p. 335.

* Tjtier's Life uf Kamcs.

HO DAVID nUME.

hitlinrto been unpriiitecl, and is interesting as containing an illustration of hia
arguments on belief: — " Allow nie to tell you that I never asserted so absurd a
proposition, as that any thing might arise without a cause. I only maintained
that our certainty of tiie falsehood of that proposition proceeded neither from
intuition nor demonstration, but tVom another source, 'ihat Cesar existed, that
there is such an island as Sicily ; for these propositions, I affirm, we have no
demonstration nor intuitive proof. Would you infer that I deny their truth, or
even their certainty? and some of them as satisfactory to the mind, thougli^
perhaps, not so regular as the demonstrative kind. Where a man of sense mis-
t.ikes my meaning, I own 1 am angry, but it is only with myself, for havino-
expressed my meaning so ill as to have given occasion to the mistake. 'J'hat
you may see I would no way scruple of owning my mistakes in argument, I shall
acknowledge (what is infinitely more material) a very great mistake in conduct ;
viz. my publishing at all the Treatise of Human Nature, a book which pretended
to innovate in all the siiblimest parts of philosophy, and which I composed before
I was five and twenty. Above all, the positive air which pervades that bock,
and »\hich may be imputed to the ardour of youth, so much displeases me, th;.t
I iiave not patience to review it. I am willing to be unheeded by the public;,
though human life is so short that I despair of ever seeing the decision. I wish
I had always confined myself to the more easy paths of erudition ; but you will
excuse me from submitting to proverbial decision, let it even be in Greek."

The effect produced on the literary world by the appearance of the Treatise
on Human Nature, was not Hattering to a young author. " Never literary
attempt," says Mr Hume, " was more unfortunate than my Treatise on Human
Nature. It fell dead-born from tlte j^fess, without reaching such distinction, as
even to excite a nmrmur among the zealots. But being naturally of a cheerful
and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted ^vith great
ardour my studies in tile country." The equanimity, and contempt for public
opinion which Hume has here arrog-ated to himself, seems to have been con-
sidered as somewhat doubtful, on the ground of the following curious state-
ment in Dr Kenrick's London Review : — " His disappointment at the public
reception of his Essay on Human Nature, had indeed a violent effect on bis
passions in a particular instance; it not having dropped so dead-hovn. from the
press but that it was severely bandied by the reviewers of those times, in a
publication entitled, The Works of the Learned ; a circumstance wliicli so hi^'hly
provoked our young philosopher, that he flew in a violent rage to demand
satisfaction of Jacob Robinson, the publisher, whom he kept, during the par-
oxysm of his anger, at his sword's point, trembling behind the counter, lest a
period should be put to the life of a sober critic by a raving philosopher." i\Ir
John Hill Burton, in his life of Hume, observes — "There is nothing in the story
to make it in itself incredible; for Hume was far from being that docile mass of
imperturbability which so large a portion of the world have taken him for.
]}ut the anecdote requires authentication, and has it not. Moreover, there are
circumstances strongly against its truth. Hume was in Scotland at the time
when the criticism on his work was published ; he did not visit London for some
years afterwards; and to believe the story, wo must look upon it not as a mo-
mentary ebullition of passion, but as a manifestation of long-treasured resent-
ment; a circumstance inconsistent with his character, Inconsistent with human
nature in general, and not in keeping with the modified tone of dissatisfaction
with the criticism, evinced in his correspondence." Wo have perused with much
interest the article in " The Works of the Learned " above alluded to, and it was
certainly not likely to engender calm feelings in the mind of the author reviewed.
It is of some length, attempting no pliilosophical confutation, but from the in-

DAVID HUME. Ill

genuity with which the most objectionable passages of the Treatise are brought
forward to stand in naked grotosqueness without connexion, it must liave come
from some one who liad carefully perused the book, and from no ordinary writer.
The vulgar raillery with which it is filled might point out Warburton, but then
tlie critic docs not call the author a liar, a knave, or a fool, and the following
almost prophetic passage with which the critic concludes (ditfering considerably
in tone from the other parts), could not possibly have emanated from the head
and heart of the great defender of the church : " It bears, indeed, incontestable
marks of a great capacity, of a soaring genius, but young, and not yet thorougldy
practised. The subject is vast and noble, as any that can exercise the understand-
ing ; but it requires a very mature judgment to handle it as becomes its dignity
and importance; the utmost prudence, tenderness, and delicacy, are requisite to
this desirable issue. Time and use may ripen these qualities in our author ; and
we shall probably have reason to consider this, compared with his later produc-
tions, in the same li<,dit as we view the juvenile woi'ks of Milton or the first
manner of a Raphael."

The third part of Mr Hume's Treatise of Human Nature was published in
1740 : it treated the subject of morals, and was divided into two parts, the
first discussing " Virtue and Vice in general," the second treating of " Justice
and Injustice." The scope of this essay is to show that there is no abstract and
certain distinction betwixt moral good and evil, and while it admits a sense of
virtue to have a practical existence in the mind of every human being, (however
it may have established itself,) it draws a distinction betwixt those virtues of
which every man's sense of right is capable of taking cognizance ; and justice,
which it maintains to bo an artificial virtue, erected certainly on the general
wish of mankind to act rightly, but a virtue which men do not naturally follow,
until a system is invented by human means, and based on reasonable principles
of general utility to the species, which shows men what is just, and what is
unjust, and can best be followed by the man who has best studied its general
artificial form, in conjunction with its application to utility, and who brings the
most acute perception and judgment to assist him in the task.** Before publishing
this part of the work, Hume submitted the manuscript to Francis Hutcheson,
professor of moral philosophy in the university of Glasgow, whose opinions he
was more disposed to receive with deference than those of any other man.
Nevertheless, it was only in matters of detail that he would consent to be guided
by that eminent person. The fundamental principles of the system he firmly
defended. The correspondence which passed betwixt them shows how far Hume
saw into the depths of the utilitarian system, and proves that it was more com-
pletely formed in his mind than it appeared in his book. " To every virtuous
action (says he) there must be a motive or impelling passion distinct from the
virtue, and virtue can never be the sole motive to any action." The greater
plainness of the subject, and its particular reference to the hourly duties of life,
made this essay more interesting- to moral philosophers, and laid it more widely
open to criticism, than the Treatise on the Understanding, and even that on the
I'assions. The extensive reference to principles of utility, produced discussions
to which it were an idle and endless work here to refer; but ^\ithout any disre-
spect to those celebrated men who have directly combated the principles of this
work, and supported totally different tiieories of the formation of morals, those

* Thus this portion of the system bore a considerable resemblance to the theory so elabo-
rately expouiKlcd in the Leviathan of Hobhcs, with this grand distinction, tliai Hume, while
niaiiitaining the necessity that asvstem of justice should he framed, does not maintain that it
liad ils origin in the natural iiijusiice of mankind, and their hatreii of eacli oliier, nor does he
attribute tlie formation of the s\stem to a complicated social contract, like that wliicli occurred
to the mind of the iMalmesbury philosopher.

112

D.VVID HUME.

who have twisted the principles of tlie nuthor into exnises for vice and immo-
rality, and the destruction of all indiircnienls to the practice of virtue, deserve
only liie fame of being themselves the fabricators of the crooked morality of >\hich
they have endeavoured to cast the odium npon another. When Mr Hume says,
" I'he ntM^essity of justice to the support of society is the sole foinidation of that
virtue : and since no moral excellence is more highly esteemed, we may con-
clude, that this circumstance of usefulness has, in general, the strongest energy,
and most entire command over our sentiments. It nuist, therefore, be the source
of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity, benevolence, friendship,
public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp ; as it is the sole source of
the moral approbation paid to iidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other
estimable and useful qualities and principles:" — it was not difficult for those
benevolent guardians of the public mind, who sat in watch to intercept such
declarations, to hold such an opinion up to public indignation, and to maintain
that it admitted every man to examine his a(;lions by his own sense of their
utility, and to connnit vice by the application of a theory of expediency appro-
priated to the act. It is not necessary to be either a vindi(vitor or assailant of
ftlr Hume's theory, to perceive that what he has traced back to the original
foundation of expediency, is not by him made ditierent in its practice and effects,
from those which good men of all persuasions in religion and philosophy admit.
While he told men that he had traced the whole system of the morality they
practised, to certain principles different from those generally admitted, he did
not tell men to alter their natural reverence for virtue or abhorrence towards
vice ; the division betwixt good and evil had been formed, and while giving his
opinion fiow it had been formed, he did not dictate a new method of regulating
human actions, and except in the hands of those who applied his theories of
the origin of virtue and vice, to the totally different purpose of an application
to their practice in individual crises, he did no more to break down the barriers
of distin(;tion betwixt them, than he who first suggested that the organs of sight
merely presented to the mind the refieclioiis of visible objects, may be supposed
to have done to render the mind less certain of the existence of external objects.
" There is no spectacle," says the author, " so fair and beautiful as a noble and
generous action ; nor any \vhich gives us more abhorrence than one which is
cruel and treacherous. No enjoyment efjiials the satisfaction we receive from the
company of those we love and esteem ; as the greatest of all punishments is to
be obliged to pass our lives with those we liate or contemn. A very play or
romance may atlbrd us instances of this pleasure which virtue conveys to us, and
the pain which arises from vi<;e ;"^ and it Avould be difficult to find in this ela-
borate essay, any remark to contradict the impression of the author's views,
which every candid mind imist receive from such a declaration.

The negle(;t with which his first production was received by the public,
while it did not abate the steady industry of its author, turned his attention for
a time to subjects which might be more act^eptable to general readers, and in
the calm retirement of his brother's house at Ninewells, where he pursued his
studies with solitary zeal, he prej>ared two volumes of unconnected disserta-
tions, entitled " I'^ssays Moral and Philosophicvil," which he published in 1742.
These essays lie had intended to have published in weekly papers, after the
method pursued by the authors of the Spectator ; " but," he observes, in an ad-
vertisement j)refixed to the first edition, " having dropped that undertaking,
partly from laziness, jiarlly from want of leisure, and being willing to make
trial of my talents for writing before I ventured upon any more serious composi-
tions, I w.as induced to commit these trifles to the judgment of the public." A

» Works, ii. 237.

DAVID HUME. li;

few of the subjects of these essays are the followinj^ : " Of the Delicacy of Taste
and Passion," " That Politics may be reduced to a Science," " Of the Independ-
ency of Parliament, " " Of the Parlies in (jreat Britain," " Of Superstition and
lintiuisiasm," " Of Liberty and Despotism," " Of Eloquence," " Of Simplicity and
Refinement," " A character of Sir Robert Walpole," &:o. Of these miscellaneous
productions we cannot venture the most passing analysis, in a memoir uliicli
must necessarily he brief: of their general character it may be sufficient to say,
that his style of writing, which in his Treatise was far from approa(;hing the
purity and elegance of composition wiiich he afterwards displayed, had made a
rapid advance to excellence, and that the reading world quickly discovered from
the justness and accuracy of his views, the elegance of his sentiments, and the
clear precision with which he stated his arguments, that the subtile calculator of
the origin of all human knowledge could direct an acute eye to the proceedings
of the world around him, and that he was capable of making less abstract (Calcu-
lations on the motives which affected mankind, A few of these essays, which he
seems to have denounced as of too light a nature to accompany his other works,
were not republished during his life ; among the subjects of these are " Impu-
dence and Modesty," " Love and Marriage," " Avarice," &:c. Although these
have been negatively stigmatized by their author, a general reader will find
much gi-atification in their perusal : the subjects are handled with the careless .
touch of a satirist, and in drawing so lightly and almost playfully pictures of
what is contemptible and ridiculous, one can scarcely avoid the conviction that
such is the aspect in which the author wishes to appear ; but on the other hand
thei-e is such a complete absence of all grotesqueness, of exaggeration, or at-
tempt at ridicule, that it is apparent he is drawing a picture of what he knows
to be unchangeably rooted in human nature, and that knowing raillery to be
useless, he is content as a philosopher merely to depict the deformity which can-
not be altered. Among the essays he did not re-publish, is the " Character of
Sir Robert Walpole," a singular specimen of the author's ability to abstract him-
self from the political feelings of the time, calmly describing the character of a
living statesman, whose conduct was perhai)s moi-e feverislily debated by his
friends and enemies than that of almost any minister in any nation, as if he
were a person of a distant age, with which the author had no sympathy, or of a
land with which lie was only acquainted through the pages of the traveller.
It was after the publication of this work that Hume first enjoyed the gratifica-
tion of something like public applause. "The work," he says, "was favour-
ably receive<l, and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment."
He still rigidly adhered to his plans of economy and retirement, and continued
to reside at Ninewells, applying himself to the study of Oreek, which he had
previously neglected. In 1745, he was invited to become tutor to the marquis
of Annandale, a young nobleman whose state of mind at that period rendered a
superintendent necessary ; and though the situation must have been one not
conducive to study, or pleasing to such a mind as that of Hume, he found that
his circumstances would not justify a refusal of the invitation, and he continued
for the period of a year in the family of the marquis.

During his residence in this family, the death of Mr Cleghorn, professor of
moral philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, caused a vacancy, which Mr
Hume very naturally considered he might be capable of filling. The patrons
of the university, however, and their advisers, took a different view of the mat-
ter, and judged that they would be at least more safe, in considering a person
of his reputed principles of phibisophy, as by no means a proper instructor of
youth: nor were virulence and parly feeling unmixed with cool judgment in

fiiing their choice. " I am informed " says Hume, in one of his playful letters
III. p

lU DAVID HUME.

1^

w

addressed to his friend Mr Sharp of Hoddain, " tliat such a popular clamour has
been raised against uie in Edinburgh, on account of scepticism, heterodoxy, and
other hard names which conf.>und the ignorant, that luy friends find some dif-
ficulty in Horkinj out the point of njy professorsliip, whidi once appeared so , , _
easy. Uid 1 need a testimonial for my orthodoxy, 1 should cenainly appeal to I I fl
you ; for you knotr that I always imitated Job's friends, and defended the cause ' *

of prorideuce when you attacked it, on account of tiie lieadaches you felt after
a debauch, but as a more particubr explication of that particular seems super-
fluous, I sliall only apply to you for a renewal of your good orfices, with your
friend lord iinwald, \«hose interest with Yetts and Albn may be of serrice to
me. There is no time to lose ; so that I m-jst beg you to be speedy in writing
to him, or speaking to hiiu on that head." Ihe successful candidate was 3Ir
James Baliour, advocate, a gentleman who afterwards became slightly knottn to
the literarj- world as the author of •• \ Delineation of the .Nature and Obligations
of Morali:y, with redeclions on Mr Hume's Inquirj- concerning the principles of
3Iorals,'' a work which lias died out of remembrance, but the candid spirit of
wtiich prompted Hume to write a complimentar)- letter to the (then) anonymous
author. Ihe disappointment of not being able to obtain a situation so desir-
able as ail'ording a respectable and permanent salar\-, and so suited to his studies,
seems to have preyed more hearily than any other event in his life, on the spirits
of 3Ir Hume ; and with the desire of being independent of the world, he seems
for a short time to have hesitated whether he should continue his studies, or at
once relinquish the pursuit of philosophical fame, by joining the army.

During the ensuinj year, his desire to be placed in a situation of respectabil-
ity was to a certain extent jrraiiiied, by his being appointed secretarv- to lieu-
tenant-general St Clair, who had been chosen to command an expedition arow-
edlv against Canada, but which terminated in a useless incursion on the coast of
France. In the year 1747, general St Clair was appointed to superintend an
embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin, and declining to accept a secretary
from gorernment, Hume, for whom he seems to hare entertained a partiality, ac-
companied him in his former capacity. He here enjoyed the society of Sir
Henrj- Erskine and captain (afterwards general) Grant, and mixing a little with
the world, and joining in the fashionable society of the places which he risited.
he seems to lure enjoyed a partial relaxation from bis philosophical labours.
.Alihouffh he mentions that these two years were almost the only interruptions
which his studies had received during the course of his life, he does not seem to
have entirely nejlected his pursuiu as an author ; in a letter to his friend Henry
Home, he hints at the probability of his devoting his time to historical subjerts,
and continues, " I have here two things going on, a new edition of my E^iayn,
all of which you liave seen except one of the i^rotestant succession, where I treat
that subject as coolly and indirterenily as 1 would the dispute betwixt C'esar and
i'ompey. The conclusion shows me a whig, bat a verj sceptical one."'^

Lord Cliarlemont, who at this period met with 3Ir Hume at Turin, has given
the following account of his habits and appearance, penned apparently with a
greater aim at effect than at truth, yet somewhat characteristic of the philoso-
pher : " Nature I believe never formed any man more unlike his real character
tiian David Hume. The powers of physiognomy were batiied by his counte-
nance ; neither could the most skilful in that science' pretend to discover the
smallest trace of the faculties of his mind, in the unmeaning features of his
risage. His face was broad and fat, his mouth wide, and without any other ex-
pression than that of imbecility. His eyes vacant and spiritless ; and the cor-
pulence of his whole pers' n was far better fitted to communicate tl.e idea of a
'3 Tj tier's Life oi" Kames.

DAVID HUME. Hi

turtle-eating- alderinaii than of a refined philosopher. His speech in English
was rendered ridiculous by the broa<lest Scottish accent, and his French, was, if
possible, still more laughable ; so that wisdom, most certainly, never disguised
herself before in so uncouth a garb. Though now near lifty years old," he was
healtiiyand strong ; but his health and strength, far from being advantageous to
his figure, instead of manly comeliness, had oidy the appearance of rusticity.
His wearing a uniform added greatly to his natural awkwardness, for he wore
it like a grocer of the train-bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant-general, and
was sent to the courts of Vienna and Turin as a military envoy, to see that their
quota of troops was furnished by the Austrians and Piedmontese. It was theie-
fore thought necessary that his secretary should appear to be an officer; and
Hume was accordingly disguis d in scarlet." '^

The letter to Mr Home we have quoted above, gives an idea of the literaiy
employments of the author during the intervals of his official engagements at
Turin, and on his return to Eritain lie exhibited the fruit of his labour in a
second edition of his " Essays, Moral and Political," which was published in
1748, with four additional eisays, and in a re-construction of the first p.iit of
his Treatise of Human Nature, which he published innnediately after, under the
title " Philosophical Essays concerning the Human Understanding," and formed
the first part of the well-known corrected digest of the Treatise of Human
Nature, into the " Inquiry concerning Human Nature." In the advertisement
the author informs the. public that "most of the principles and reasonings in
this volume were published in a work in three volumes, called A Treatise of
Human Nature, a work which the author had projected before he left college,
and which he wrote and published not long after. The philosophy of this work
is essentially the same as that of which he had previously sketched a more rude
and complicated draught. The object, (or more properly speaking, the con-
clusion arrived at, for the person who sets out without admissions, and inquires
whether any thing can be ascertained in philosophy, can scarcely be said to
have an object in view,) is the same system of doubt which he previously ex-
pounded ; a scepticism, not like that of Boyle and otiiers, which merely went to
show the uncertainty of the conclusions attending particular species of argument,
but a sweeping argument to show^ that by the structure of the understanding, the
result of all investigations, on all subjects, must ever be doubt." The Inquiry
must be to every render a work far more pleasing, and we may even say, in-
structive, than the Treatise. While many of the more startling arguments, as-
suming the appearance of paradoxes, sometimes indistinctly connected witli
the subject, are omitted, othei's are laid down in a clearer form ; the whole is
subjected to a more compact arrangement, and the early style of the writer,
which to many natural beauties, united a considerable feebleness and occasional
harshness, makes in this work a very near approach to the elegance and
classic accuracy, which much perseverance, and a refined taste enabled the au-
thor to acquire in the more advanced period of liis life. Passing over, as our
limits must compel us, any attempt at an analytical comparison of the two works,
and a narrative of the changes in the author's opinions, we must not omit the
circumstance, that the I'ssay on Miracles, which it will be remembered the au-
thor withheld from his 'Ireatise, was attached to the Inquiry, probably after a
careful revision and correction. Locke had hinted in a few desultory observa-
tions the grounds of a disbelief in the miracles attributed to the early Cinistian
church, and Or Conyers iMiddleton, in his Free Inquiry into the miraculous
powers supposed to have subsisted in the Christian church from the earliest ages,

" His lordship must have made a mis-calculation. Hamewas then onh in his 3Sth year.
'2 Hardy's Lilu of lord Charlemont, p.fl.

IIG

DAVID HUME.

puhlislied very nearly at tlie same period uith the Essay of Hume, struck a
more de<;ule<l blow at all supernatural agency beyond uhat was justified by the
sacred Scriptures, and ai>pr<>aclied oy his arguments a dangerous ncighbourliood
to an interference with what he did not avowedly attack. Hume considered tiie
subject as a general point in the human understanding to which he admitted no
exceptions. 'Hie argument of-this remarkable essay is too well known to require
an explanation ; but the impartiality too often infringed \\hcn the works of this
philosopher are the subject of consideration, requires that it should be kept in
mind, that he treats the proof of miracles, as he does that of the existence of
matter, in a manner purely sceptical, with this practical distinction, — that suppos-
ing a person is convinced of, or chooses to say he believes in the abstract exist-
ence of matter, independent of the mere impressions conveyed by the senses,
there is still room to doiilt that miracles have been worked. It would have
been entirely at variance with the principles of scepticism to have maintained that
miracles were not, and could not have been performed, according to the laws
of nature ; but the argument of i\lr Hume certainly leans to the practical con-
clusion, that our uncertainty as to what we are said to have experienced, ex-
pands into a greater uncertainty of the existence of miracles, which are contrary
to the course of our experience ; because belief in evidence is founded entirely
on our belief in experience, and on the circumstance, that what we hear from
the testimony of others coincides with the current of that experience ; and when-
ever testimonv is contradictory to the current of our experience, the latter is
the more probable, and should we be inclined to believe in it, we nmst at least
doubt the former. 'Jims the author concludes " That no testimony is sufficient
to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind that its falsehood
would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish : and
even in that case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior
o/ily gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force which remains after
deducting the inferior." The application of his argument to the doctrines of
Christianity he conceives to be, that " it may serve to confound those dangerous
friends, or disguised enemies to the Christian religion, who have undertaken to
defend it by the principles of human reason ; our most holy religion is founded
on ff'itli, not on reason ; and it is a sure method of exposing it to put it to such
a trial as it is by no mcaus fitted to endure."'^ Hume is repeatedly at pains to
protest against his being supposed to be arguing in the essay against the Cliris-
tian faith. Tiiese protests, however, as his biographer, Mr Burton, is constrained
to admit, were uttered briefly and coldly, and in such a manner as made people
feel, that if Hume believed in the doctrines of the Bible, he certainly had not his
heart in them. A want of proper deference for religious feeling (adds this
writer) is a defect that runs through all his works. There is no ribaldry, but at
the same time there are no expressions of decent reverence. It is to be observed,
also, that the argument of Hume against miracles is still a favourite weapon of
the enemies of revealed religion. At the same time, it must be admitted that under
proper regulation, the argument is of use in defining the boundaries of inductive
reasoning, and in this way has proved undoubtedly serviceable to the progress
of science.

The work by Dr Campbell in confutation of this essay, at first produced in
the form of a sermon, and afterwards expanded into a trefttise, which was
published in 17G2, is well known and appreciated. This admirable and
conclusive production, while yet in manuscript, was shown to Hume by Dr
Blair. Hume was much pleased with tlie candour of the transaction; he re-
marked a few passages hardly in accordance with the calm feelings of the other
'a Works, iv. 135, 153

DAVID HU.ME. 117

portions of the work, which at his suggestion the .lutlior amended ; and he per-
sonally wrote to Dr Campbell, with his usual calm pf)liteness, thanking him for
treatment so unexpected from a clergjinan of the church of Scotland; and,
with the statement that he had made an early resolution not to answer attacks
on his opinions, acknowledged that he never felt so violent an inclination to de-
fend himself. The respect which Campbell admitted himself to entertain for
the sceptic is thus expressed :

" The Essay on 31iracles deserves to be considered as one of the most dan-
gerous attacks that have been made on our i-eligion. The danger results not
solely from the merit of tlte piec3 : it results much more from tliat of t/ie au-
thor. The piece itself, like every other work of 3Ir Hume, is ingenious ; but
its merit is more of the oratorical kind than of the philosophical. '1 he merit of
the aiitlior, I acknowledge, is great. The many useful volumes he has published
of histori/, as well as on criticism, politics, and trade, have j'lstly procured
him, ^^ilh all persons of taste and discernment, the highest reputation as a
writer. * * In such analysis and exposition, which I own, I have at-
tempted without ceremony or reserve, an air of ridicule is unavoidable ; but this
ridicule, I am well aware, if founded on misrepresentation, will at last rebound
upon myself." "

Dr Campbell was a man of strong good sense, and knew Avell the description
of argument Mhich the world would best appreciate, approve, and comprehend,
in answer to the perplexing subtilties of his opponent. He struck at the root
of the system of perceptions merging into experience, and experience regulat-
ing the value of testimony, which had been erected by his adversary, — and ap-
pealing, not to the passions and feelings in favour of religion, but to the com^
nion convictions which we deem to be founded on reason, and cannot separate
from our minds, maintained that " testimony has a natural and original influence
on belief, antecedent to experience," from which position he proceeded to show,
that the miracles of the gospel had received attestation sufficient to satisfy the
reason. With his usual soundness and good sense, though scarcely uith the
profundity which the subject required, Dr Faley joined the band of confutors,
while he left Hume to triumph in the retention of the effects attributed to ex-
perience, maintaining- that the principle so established was counteracted by our
natural expectation that the Deity should manifest his existence, by doing such
acts contrary to the established order of the universe, as would plainly show
that order to be of his own fabriration, and at his own command.

Before leaving the subject of the Inquiry concerning Human Understanding,
we may mention that 3Ir Coleridge in his Biographia Literaria, has accused
Hume of plagiarizing the exposition of the Principles of Association in that
work, from the unexpected source of the Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, on
the I'arva Naturalia of Aristotle, and the charge, with however much futility it
may be supported, demands, when coming from so celebrated a man, the consi-
deration of the biographer. IMr Coleridge's words are, " In consulting the
excellent Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, on the Parva Naturalia of Aris-
totle, I was struck at once with its close resemblance to Hume's Essay on Asso-
ciation. The main thoughts were the same in both, the order of the thoughts
was the same, and even the illustrations differed only by Hume's occasional sub-
stitution of modern exampU's. I mentioned the circumstance to several of my
literary acquaintances, who admitted the closeness of the resemblance, and that
it seemed too great to be explained by mere coincidence ; but they thought it
improbable that Hume should have held the pages of the angelic doctor worth
turning over. But some time after, Mr Payne, of the King's Mews, showed Sir
" Edit. 1797, Advert, p. viii.

118 DAVID HUME.

James Mackintosh some odd volumes of St Thomas Aquinas, partly, perhaps, from
haviii"- heard that Sir James (then Mr) 3Iackintiisl», liad, in iiis lectures, passed a
hij(lt encoujiuiii on tiiis canonized philosopher, but chiefly from the facts, that
tiie volumes had belonged to Mr Hume, and iiad here and there marginal marks
and notes of reference in iiis own hand-writing. Among these volumes was that
whicli contains the Parva Naturalia, in the old Latin version, swathed and
swaddled in the commentary afore mentioned." When a person has spent much
time in the perusal of works so unlikely to be productive, as those of Aquinas,
the discovery of any little coincidence, or of any idea that may attract attention,
is a fortunate incident, of which the discoverer cannot avoid informing the world,
that it may see what he has been doing, and tlie coincidence in question is such
as might have excused an allusion to the subject, as a curiosity. But it was
certainly a piece of (no doubt heedless) disingenuousness on the part of Mr
Coleridge, to make so broad and conclusive a statement, Avithout accompanying
it with a comparison. " We have read," says a periodical paper alluding to this
subject, " tiie whole commentary of St Tiiomas Aquinas, and we challenge 3Ir
Coleridge to produce from it a single illustration, or expression of any kind, to
be found in Hume's essay. The whole scope and end of ilume's essay is not
only dillerent from that of -^t Thomas Aquinas, but there is not in the connnen-
tary of the 'angelic doctor' one idea which in any way resembles, or can be
made to resemble, the beautiful illustration of the prince of sceptics."'^ The
theory of Hume on the subject as corrected in his Inquiry, is tiius expressed:
** To me, there appear to be only three principles of connexion among ideas,
namely, resemblance, coniigidty, in time or place, and cause or effect. That
these principles serve to connect ideas, will not, 1 believe, be much doubted.
A picture naturally leads our thoughts to the original. The mention of one
apartment in a building naturally introduces an inquiry or discourse concerning
the others ; and if we think of a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on
the pain which follows it." ' From a comparison of this, with >vhat ]Mr
Coleridge must have presumed to be the corresponding passage in Aquinas," it
will be perceived that a natural wish to make the most of his reading had
prompted him to propound the discovery. Had no other person besides Aquinas
endeavoured to point out the regulating principles of association, and had Hume
with such a passage before him pretended to have been the first to have discovered
them, there might have been grounds for the accusation ; but the methods of
connexion discovered by philosophers in diflerent ages, have been numerous,
and almost alv\ays correc^t, as secondary principles. It was the object of Hume
to gather these into a thread, and going back to principles as limited and ulti-
mate as lie could reach, to state as nearly as possible, not all the methods by
which ideas were associated, but to set bounds to the abstract principles under
which these methods might be classed. Aquinas, on the other hand, by no
means sets bounds to the principles of association ; he gives three methods oi
association, and in the matter of number resembles Hume : but had he given
twenty methods, he might have more nearly embraced what Hume has embraced
within Iiis three principles. The method of asso<;iation by resemblance is the

'• m.ickwooii's .Magiizine, v. iii. 656.

'* Works, iv. p. 2o.

" Tlie p.issjige is iis follows : "similiter t-liam quandoque reminiscitur aliquis iiicipiens ab
aliqua re, cujus niemonitur a qua pioctdit ad aliam triplici ralione. Quandoque quidem
ratione simtlitwlinis, sicut quan<lu aliijuis memoratur de Socrate, et per hoc oocurrit ei Plato,
qui est si mills ei in sapieiitia : quandoque vcro ratioiie conlrarielalis , sicut si aliquis memore-
tur Hectoris, et per hoc occurrit ei Achilles. Quandoque viro ralione propinquitntis cujus-
cunquc, >icut cum aliquis m.cmor est patris, et per hoc occurrit ei filius. Et eadem ratio est
de quacunque alia propinquitate vel societatis, vel loci, vcl femporis, et propter hoc fil
remiiiiscentia, quia motus iiorum se invicem. cx>nsequuiiiur "

DAVID HUME. 119

only one stated by both : with regard to the second principle by Aquinas, contra-
riety, from the illustration with wliich he has ncconipanied it, he appears to mean
local or piiysical opposition, sucli as the opposition of two combatants in a battle,
and not the interpretation now generally bestowed on tiie term by philosophers.
15ut supposing him to have understood it in the latter sense, Hume has taken
pains to show that contrariety cannot easily be admitted as a fourth ultimate
principle : thus in a note he says, " For instance, contrast or contrariety is also
a connexion among ideas, but it may perhaps be considered as a mixture of
causation and resemblance. Where two objects are contrary, the one destroys
the other; that is, is the cause of its annihilation, and the idea of the annihila-
tion of an object, implies tlie idea of its former existence." Aquinas, it will be
remarked, entirely (Mnits "cause and effect, " and his "contiguity" is of a
totally did'erent nature from that of Hume, since it embraces an illustration
which Hume would have referred to the principle of " cause and effect. "

" I had always," says Hume, in reference to the work we have just been
noticing, " entertained a notion that my want of success in publishing the
Treatise of Human Nature, had pi-oceeded more from the manner than the mat-
ter, and that I had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion, in going to the
press too early. I, therefore, cast the first part of the work anew, in the Inquiry
concerning Human Understanding, which was published while I was at 'I'urin.
But this piece was at first little more successful than the Treatise of Human
Nature. On my return from Italy, I had the mortification to find all England
in a ferment, on account of Ur IVIiddleton's Free Inquiry, while my performance
was entirely overlooked and neglected."

About this period, Hume sutlered the loss of a mother, who, according to his
own account, when speaking of his earlier days, was " a woman of singular
merit, who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing
of her children ;" and the philosopher seems to have regarded her with a strong
and devoted affection. He was a man whose disposition led him to unite him-
self to the world by few of the ordinary ties, but the few Avhich imperceptibly
held him, were not broken without pain ; on these occasions the philosopher
yielded to the man, and the cold sceptic discovered the feelings with which
nature had gifted him, which at other moments lay chained by the bonds of his
powerful reason. A very different account of the effect of this event, from what
we have just now stated, is given in the passage we are about to quote (as copied
in the Quarterly Review,) from the travels of the American Silliman. Without
ai-guing as to the probability or improbability of its containing a true statement,
let us remark that it is destitute of proof, a quality it amply requires, being
given by the traveller forty years after the death of the philosopher, from tiie
report of an individual, while the circumstance is not one which would have
probably escaped the religious zeal of some of 3Ir Hume's commentators.

" It seems that Hume received a religious education from his mother, and
early in life was the subject of strong and hopeful religious impressions ; but as
he approached manhood they were effaced, and confirmed infidelity succeeded.
IMaternal partiality, however, alarmed at first, came at length to look with less
and less pain upon this declension, and filial love and reverence seem to have
been absorbed in the pride of philosophical scepticism; for Hume now applied him-
self with unwearied and unhappily with successful efforts, to sap the foundation of
his mother's faith. Having succeeded in this di-eadful work, he went abroad
into foreign countries; and as he was returning, an express met him in London,
with a letter from his mother, infonning him that she was in a deep decline, and
could not long survive : she said she found herself without any support in her
distress : that he had taken away that source of comfort upon which, in all cases

120 DAVID HUME.

of artiiction, she used to rely, and that she now found her mind sinking into
despair, Slie did not doubt but her son would allord her some substitute for her
religion, and she conjured iiini to hasten to iier, or at least to send her a letter,
containing sudi consolations as philosophy can art'ord to a dying mortal. Hume
was overwhelmed with anguish on receiving this letter, and hastened to Scotr
land, travelling day and night ; but before lie arrived, his mother expired. No
permanent impression seems, however, to have been made on his mind by this
most trying event; and whatever remorse he might have felt at the moment, he
soon relapsed into his wonted obduracy of heart."

On the appearance of this anecdote, Baron Hume, the philosopher's nephew,
communicated to tlie editor of the Qura-torly Review the following anec-
dote, of a more pleasing nature, connected with the same circumstance; and
while it is apparent that it stands on better ground, we may mention that it is
acknowledged by the reviewer as an authenticated contradiction to the statement
of Silliman. " David and he (the hon. Mr Boyle, brother of the earl of
(ilasgow) were both in London, at t/ie period when David's mother died. 3Ir
Boyle, hearing of it, soon after went into his apartment, for tliey lodged in the
same house, w'here he found him in the deepest affliction, and in a tiood of tears.
After the usual topits of condolence, Mr Boyle said to him, 'My friend, you owe
this uncommon grief to your having thrown off the principles of religion; for if
you had not, you would have been consoled with the tirm belief, that the good
lady, who was not only the best of mothers, but the most pious of Christians, was
completely happy in the realms of the just,' To which David replied, * Though
I throw out my speculations to entertain the learned and metaphysical world,
yet, in other things, I do not think so ditlerently from the rest of mankind as
you imagine.' "

Hume returned, in 1749, to the retirement of his brother's house at Nine-
wells, and during a residence there for two years, continued his remodeling
of his Treatise of Human Nature, and prepared for the press his celebrated
Political Discourses. The former production appeared in 1751, under the title
of an " Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals," published by Millar, the
celebrated bookseller. Hume considered this the most perfect of his works, and
it is impossible to resist admiration of the clearness of the arguments, and the
beautiful precision of the theories ; the world, however, did not extend to it
the balmy influence of popularity, and it appeared to the author, that all his
literary etlorts were doomed to the unhappy fate of being little regarded at first,
and of gradually decaying into oblivion. " In my opinion," he says, " (who
ought not to judge on that subject,) [it] is, of all my writings, historical, philo-
sophical, or literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and unobserved
into the world."

In 1752, and during the author's residence in Edinburgh, appeared his
" Political Discourses." The subjects of these admirable essays were of interest
to every one, the method of treating them was comprehensible to persons of
common discerinnent ; above all, they treated subjects on which the prejudices
of few absolutely refused conviction by argument, and the author had the oppor-
tunity of being appreciated and admired, even when telling truths. The book
in these circumstances, was, in the autlior's words, " the only work of mine
that was successful on the first publication. It was well received abroad and at
home." The chief .subjeiits were, " Commerce, money, interest, the balance
of trade, the po])ulousness of ancient nations, the idea of a perfect common-
wealth." Sir .losiah Child, Sir William Petty, Hobbes, and Locke, had pre-
viously given the glimmerings of more liberal principles on trade and manufac-
ture than those which they saw practised, and hinted at the common prejudices

DAVID HDMB. 121

on the use of money and the vahie of labour; but lluine was the firet to sketch
an outline of some branches of the benevolent system of political economy
framed by his illustrious friend, Adam Smith. He laid down labour as the only
criterion of all value, made a near approach to an ascertainment of the true
value of the precious metals, a point not yet fully fixed among economists ; dis-
covered the baneful effects of commercial limitations as obliging the nation to
trade in a less profitable manner than it would choose to do if unconstrained, and
predicted the dangerous consequences of the funding system. The essay on the
populousne£8 of ancient nations, was a sceptical analysis of the authorities on that
subject, doubting their accuracy, on the principle of political economy that the
number of the inhabitants of a nation must have a ratio to its fruitl'ulness and
their industry. The essay was elaborately answered by Dr Wallace, in a Disser-
tation of the Numbers of iMankind, but that gentleman only produced a host of
those " authorities," the efficacy of which Mr Hume has doubted on principle.
This essay is an extremely useful practical application of the doctrines in the
Essay on Miracles. Mr Hume's ' idea of a perfect conmionwealth,' has been
objected to as an impracticable system. The autiior probably had the wisdom
to make tliis discovery himself, and might have as soon expected it to be appli-
cable to practice, as a geometrician might dream of his angles, straight lines, and
points, being literally accomplished in the measui'ement of an estate, or the
building of a house. The whole represents men without passions or prejudices
working like machines ; and Hume no doubt admitted, that Avliile passion, pre-
judice, and habit, forbade the safe attempt of such projects, such abstract struc-
tures ought to be held up to the view of the legislator, as the forms into which,
so far as he can do it with safety, he ought to stretch the systems under his
administration. Plato, More, Harrington, Hobbes, and (according to some
accounts,) Berkeley'* had employed their ingenuity in a similar manner, and
Hume seems to have considered it worthy of his attention.

In February, 1752, David Hume succeeded the celebrated Ruddinuin, as
librarian to the Faculty of Advocates. The salary was at that time very trifling,
somewhere we believe about £40, but the duties were probably little more tlian
nominal, and the situation was considered an acquisition to a man of literaa-y
habits. It was, with this ample field of authority at his command, that he seems
to have finally determined to write a portion of the History of England. In
1757, he relinquished this appointment on his removing to London, when prepar-
ing for publication the History of the House of Tudor.

In 17 5-2, appeared the first (published) volume of the History of England,
embracing the period from tlie accession of the house of Stuart, to the death of
Charles the First ; and passing over intermediate events, we may mention that
the next volume, containing a continuation of the series of events to the period
of the Revolution, appeared in 1756, and the third, containing the History of
the house of Tudor, was published in 1759. " I was, I own," says the author
with reference to the first volume, " sanguine in my expectations of the success
of this work. I thought that I was the only liistorian that had at once neglected
present power, interest, and authority, and the cry of popular prejudices ; and
as the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional applause.
But miserable was my disappointment ; I was assailed by one cry of reproach,
disapprobation, and even detestation ; English, Scottish, and Irish, whig and
tory, churchman and sectary, freethinker and religionist, patriot and courtier,
united in their rage against the man, who had presumed to shed a generous tear
for the fate of Charles I. and the earl of Strafford ; and after the first ebullitions
of their fury were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink
»8 In the anonymous adventures of Giovanni de Lucca.

122 DAVID HUME.

into oblivion." Of the second lie says, "This perJormonce happened to givo
less disuleasuie to tlie ivhigs, and was better received. It not only rose itself,
but helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother," Of the History of England it
is extremely ditllcult to give a fair and unbiased opinion, because, uhile the
author is, in general, one of the most impartial writers on this subject, it is
scart;ely a paradox to say, that the few p.irlialities in which he has indulged,
have done more to warp the mind tlian the violent prejudices of others. Pre-
vious to his history, those who wrote on political subjects ranged themselves in
parties, and each man prochaimed with open mouth the side for which he was
about to argue, and men heard him as a special pleader. Hume looked over
events with the eye of a philosopher; he seemed to be careless of the extent ot
the good or bad of either parly. On neither side did he abuse, on neither did
he laud or even justify. 'Ihe side which he adopted seldom enjoyed approba-
tion or even vindication, and only in apology did he distinguish it from that to
which he was inimical. From this peculiarity, the opinions to which he leaned
actjuircd strength from the suffrage of one so apparently impartial and uncon-
cerned. Notwithstanding the prejudices generally attributed however to Hume
as an historian, we cannot set him down as an enemy to liberty. No man had
grander views of the power of the human mind, and of the higher majesty of
intellect, wiien compared with the external attributes of rank ; and the writings
of a republican could not exceed in depicting this feeling, the picture he has
draAvn of the parliament of Charles the First, and of the striking circumstances
of the king's condenniation. 'Ihe instances in which he has shown
himself to be inconsistent, may, perhaps, be more attributed to his habits, than
to his opinions. His indolent benevolence prompted a sympathy with the
oppressed, and he felt a reluctance to justify those who assumed the aspect of
active assailants, from whatever cause ; while in matters of religion, viewing all
persuasions in much the same aspect, unprejudiced himself, he felt a contempt
for those who indulged in prejudice, and was more inclined to censure than to
vindicate those who acted from religious impulse. With all his partialities, hoA\-
ever, let those who study the character of the author while they read his history
recollect, that he never made literature bow to rank, that he never flattered a
great man to obtain a favour, and that, though long poor, he was always inde-
pendent. Of the seeming contradiction between his life and opinions, ^ve quote
the Ibllowing applicable remarks from the Edinbui-gh Review :

" Few things seem more unaccountable, and indeed absurd, than that Huuie
should have taken part witli high churcii and high monarchy men. The perse-
cutions \vhich he sutlered in his youth from the presbyterians, may, perhaps, have
influenced his ecclesiastical partialities. ]5ut that he should have sided with the
Tiidors and the Stuarts against the people, seems quite inconsistent with all the
great traits of his character. His unrivaled sagacity nmst have looked with
contempt on the ]>reposterous arguments by which the jus divinum was main-
tained. His natural benevolence must have suggested the cruelty of subjecting
the enjoyments of thousands to the caprice of one unfeeling individual : and his
own pra(;tical independen(;e in private life, might have taught him tlie value of
those feelings Avliich lie has so mischievously derided. I\lr Fox seems to have
been struck with s<)me surprise at tiiis strange trait in the character of our philo-
Boplier. In a letter to 31 r Laing he says, ' He was an excellent man, and of
great powers of mind ; but his partiality to kings and princes is intolerable.
Nay, it is, in my ojiinion, quite ridiculous : and is more like the foolisli admira-
tion whicii women and children sometimes have for kings, than the opinion,
right or wrong, of a philusopjier.' "

It would be a vain task to enumerate the controversial attacks on Hume's

DAVID IITJME. 123

History of Englaiul. Ur Hard in his Dialogues on tlie Kiiglisli Constitution
stoutly combated his opinions. IMiller brought the force of his strongly thinking
mind to a consideration of the subject at great length, but he assumed too much
the aspect of a special pleader. Dr Birch and Dr 'lowers entered on minute
examinations of particular portions of the narrative, and the late major Cart-
wright, with more fancy than reason, almost caricatured the opinions of those
who considered that Hume had designedly painted the government of the Tudors
in arbitrary colours, to relieve that of the Stuarts. Mr Laing appeared as the
chamjiion of the Scottish patriots, and Dr M'Crie as the vindic^ator of the pres-
byterians ; and within these few past years, two elaborate works have fully
examined the statements and representations of Hume, — the Ihitish Empire of
Mr Brodie, and the extremely impartial Constitutional History of Hallam.

In the interval betwixt the publication of the first and second volumes of the
History, Hume produced the " Natural History of lieligion." This ]irodu«;tion
is one of those which Warburton delighted to honour. In a pamplilet which
Hume attributed to Hurd, he thus politely notices it : " Ihe few excepted out
of the whole race of mankind are, we see, our philosopher and his gang, with
their pedlars' Avare of matter and motion, who penetrate by their disquisitions
into the secret structui-e of vegetable and animal bodies, to extract, like the
naturalists in Gulliver, sunbeams out of cucumbers ; just as wise a project as this
of raising religion out of the intrigues of matter and motion. We see what
the man would be at, through all his disguises, and no doubt, he would be much
mortified if we did not ; though the discovery we make, is only this, that, of all
the slanders against revelation, this before us is the tritest, the dirtiest, and the
most worn in the drudgery of free-thinking, not but it may pass with his friends,
and they have my free leave to make their best of it. What I quote it lor, is
only to show the rancour of heart which possesses this unhappy man, and
which could induce him to employ an insinuation against the Christian and the
Jewish religions; not only of no weight in itself, but of none, I will venture to
say, even in his own opinion." ''' Hume says, he " found by Warburton's
railing" that his " books were beginning to be esteemed in good company ;"
and of the particular attention which the prelate bestowed on the sceptic, such
specimens as the following are to be found in the correspondence of the former :
" I am strongly tempted too, to have a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the
author of a little book, called Philosophical Essays : in one of which he argues
against the hope of a God, and in another (very needlessly you will say,) against
the possibility of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press, and yet he
has a considerable post under government, I have a great mind to do justice
on his arguments against miracles, which I think might be done in few words.
But does he deserve notice ? Is he known among you ? Pray answer me these
questions; for if his own weight keeps him down, I should be sorry to contri-
bute to his advancement to any place but the pillory."'"

Of the very diflerent manner in which he esteemed a calm, and a scurrilous
<;ritic, we have happily been able to obtain an instance, in a copy of a curious
letter of Hume, which, although the envelope is unfortunately lost, and the
whole is somewhat mutilated, we can perceive from the circumstances, to have
been addressed to Dr John Stewart, author of an Essay on the Laws of Motion.
It affords a singular instance of tlie calm and forgiving spirit of the philosopher :
" I am so great a lover of peace, that I am resolved to drop this matter alto-
gether, and not to insert a syllable in the preface, which can iiave a reference to
^our essay. The truth is, I could take no revenge but such a one as would have

f VVarbujIon's works, vii. 851, 868.

~" Lettt^rs from a late Riv. Prolate, to one of his Friends, 1808, p. 11.

124

DAVID UUMB.

been a great deal too cruel, and iniidi exceeding the otlence ; for though most
autliors lliink, tliat a contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but
sliglitly revenged by luirting the personal cliaracter and the lionour of their
antagonists, I am very far from being of that opinion. JSesides, as I am as certjiin
as I cm be of any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you may periiaps
imagine,) that your inserting such remarkable alterations in the printed copy
proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not from any lormed inten-
tion of deceiving the society, I would not take advantage of such an incident,
to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I esteem though 1 might have reason
to complain of him. When I am abused by such a felio>v as Warburton, whom
I neitiier know nor care for, I can laugh at him. But if l)r Stewart approaches
any way toivards the same style of writing, I own it vexes me ; because I con-
clude that some unguarded circumstances of my conduct, though contrary to my
intention had given occasion to it. As to your situation with regard to lord
Kames, 1 am not so good a judge. I only know, that you had so much the
better of the argument that you ought upon that account to have been moi-e
reserved in your expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in philosophical
argument, both because (it is) unphilosophical, and because it cannot but be
offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What then must we think with regard to so
many insinuations of irreligion, to which lord Kanies's paper gave not the least
occasion ? This spirit of tlio inquisitor is, in you, the etlect of passion, and what
a cool moment would easily correct. But when it predominates in the charac-
ter, what ravages has it committed on reason, virtue, truth, sobriety, and every
thing that is valuable among mankind!" — We may at this period of his life con-
sider Hume as having reached the age when the mind has entirely ceased to
bend to circumstances, and cannot be made to alter its habits. Speaking of him
in this advanced period of his life, an author signing himself G. N. and detailing
some anecdotes of Hume, with whom he says he was acquainted, states (in the
Scots Magazine), that " his great views of being singular, and a vanity to show
himself superior to most people, led him to advance many axioms that were dis-
sonant to the opinions of others, and led him into sceptical doctrines, only to
show how minute and puzzling they were to other folk ; in so far, that I have
often seen him (in various companies, according as he saw some enthusiastic
person there), combat either their religious or political principles ; nay, after
he had struck them dinnb, take up the argument on their side, with equal good
humour, wit, and jocoseness, all to show his pre-eniinency." The same person
mentions his social feelings, and the natural disposition of his temper to flow
with the current of whatever society he was in ; and that while he never gam-
bled he had a natural liking to whist playing, and was so accomplished a player
as to be the subject of a shameless proposal on the part of a needy man of rank,
for bettering tb.eir mutual fortunes, which it need not be said was repelled.

But the late lamented Henry M'Kenzie, who has attempted to embody the
character of the sceptic in the beautiful iiction of La Roche, has drawn, from
his intimate knowledge of character, and his great acquaintance with the philoso-
pher, a more pleasing picture. His words are, " The unfortunate nature of his
opinions with regard to the theoretical principles of moral and religious truth,
never influenced his regard for men who held very opposite sentiments on those
subjects, which he never, like some vain shallow sceptics, introduced into social
discourse ; on the contrary, when at any time the conversation tended that way,
he was desirous rather of avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he
wished to confnie to the graver and less dangerous consideration of cool philo-
sopliy. He had, it might be said, in the language which the Grecian historian
applies to an illustrious llonian, two minds ; one which indulged in the meta-

DAVID HUME. 126

physical scepticism which iiis genius could invent, but which it coukl not always
(liseiitangle ; another, simple, natural, and playful, which made his conversation
delightful to his friends, and even frequently conciliated men whose principles of
belief his philosophical doubts, if tliey had not power to shake, had grieved and
olleuded. During the latter period of his life I was frequently in his company
amidst persons of genuine piety, and I never heard him venture a remark at
which such men, or ladies — still more susceptible than men — could take otfence.
His good nature and benevolence prevented such an injury to his hearers ; it
was unfortunate that he often forgot what injury some of his writings might do
to Ills readers."-'

Hume was now a man of a very full habit, and somewhat given to indolence
in all occupations but tiiat of literature. An account of himself, in a letter to his
relation IMrs Uysart iiviy amuse liom its calm pleasantry, and good humour:
" My compliments to his solicitorship. Unfortunately I have not a horse at
present to cany my fat carcase, to pay its respects to iiis superior obesity. But
if he finds travelling requisite either for his health or the captain's, we shall be
glad to entertain him here as long as we can do it at another's expense, in
hopes that we shall soon be able to do it at our own. Pray, tell the solicitor that
I have been reading lately, in an old author called Strabo, that in some cities of
ancient Gaul, there was a fixed legal standard established for corpulency, and
that the senate kept a measure, beyond which, if any belly presumed to increase,
the proprietor of that belly was obliged to pay a fine to the public, proportion-
able to its rotundity. Ill would it fare with his worship and 1 (me), if such a
law should pass our parliament, for I am afraid we are already got beyond the
statute. I wonder, indeed, no harpy of the treasury has ever thought of this
method of raising money. Taxes on luxury are always most approved of, and
no one will say that the carrying about a portly belly is of any use or necessity.
'lis a mere superfluous ornament, and is a proof too, that its proprietor enjoys
greater plenty than he puts to a good use ; and, therefore, 'tis fit to reduce him
to a level with his fellow subjects, by taxes and impositions. As the lean
people are the most active, unquiet, and ambitious, they every where govern the
world, and may certainly oppress their antagonists whenever they please.
Heaven forbid that Avhig and tory should ever be abolished, for then the nation
might be split into fat and lean, and our faction I am afraid would be in a
piteous taking. The only comfort is, if they oppress us very much we should
at last change sides with them. Uesides, who knows if a tax were imposed on
fatness, but some jealous divine might pretend that the church was in danger. I
cannot but bless the memory of Julius Ctesar, for the great esteem he expressed
for fat men, and his aversion to lean ones. All the world allows that the emperor
»vas the greatest genius that ever was, and the greatest judge of mankind."

In the year 1756, the philosophical calm of Hume appeared in danger of
being disturbed by the fulminations of the church. The outcry against his
doubting philosophy became loud, scepticism began to be looked on as synoni-
mous with infidelity, and some of the fieixer spirits endeavoured to urge on the
church to invade the sacred precincts of freedom of opinion. The discussion of
the subject commenced before the conmiittee of overtures on the 27th of IMay,
and a long debate ensued, in which some were pleased to maintain, that Hume,
not being a Christian, was not a fit person to be judged by the venerable court.
For a more full narrative of those proceedings, we refer to the liie of Henry
Home of Karnes, who was subjected to the same attempt at persecution. In an
analysis of the works of the two authors, published during the session of the
assembly, and circulated among the members, the respectable author, with u
21 IM'Kenzit;'s Life of Home, p. 20.

126 DAVID HUME.

laudable anxiety to find an enemy to the religion he professed, laid down the
following-, as propositions wliicli he would be enabled to prove were the avowed
opinions of .^Ir lluuie : — '' 1st, All distinction between virtue and vice is merely
imaginary — 2nd, Justice has no foundation farther than it contributes to public
advantage — 3d, Adultery is very lawful, but sometimes not expedient — 1th,
Keligion and its ministers are prejudicial to mankind, and will ahvays be found
either to run into the heights of superstition or enthusiasm — 5tli, Christianity
has no evidence of its being a divine revelation — (ith, Of all the modes of Chris-
tianity, popery is the best, and the reformation from thence was only the work
of madmen and enthusiasts." The overture was rejected by the connnittee, and
the indefatigable vindicators of religion brought the matter under a dirt'erent
shape before the presbytery of Edinburgh, but that body very properly decided
on several grounds, among which, not the least applicable was, " to prevent their
entering further into so abstruse and metaphysical a subject," that it " \vouId be
more for the purposes of edification to dismiss the process."

In 1751), ajipeared Dr Robertson's History of Scotland, and the similarity of
the subjects in which he and Hume were engaged, produced an interchange of
information, and a lasting friendship, honourable to both these gi-eat men.
Hume was singularly destitute of literary jealousy ; and of the unaffected welcome
which he gave to a work treading on his own peculiar path, we could give many
instances, did our limits permit. He never withheld a helping hand to any
author wlio might be considered his rival, and, excepting in one instance, never
peevishly mentioned a living literary author in his works. Tlie instance we
allude to, is a remark on I\Ir Ty tier's vindication of queen 3Iary, and referring
the reader to a copy of it below,"- it is right to remark, that it seems more
dictated by contempt of the arguments, than spleen towards the person of the
author.

Any account of the literary society in which Hume spent his hours of leisure
and conviviality, would involve us in a complete literary history of Scotland
during that period, unsuitable to a biographical dictionary. With all the emi-
nent men of that illustrious period of Scottish literature, he was eminently
acquainted ; as a philosopher, and as a man of dignified and respected intellect,
he stood at the head of the list of gi-eat names ; but in the less calm employments
in which literary men of all periods occupy themselves, he was somewhat shunned,
as a person too lukewarm, indolent, and good-humoured, to support literary war-
fare. An amusing specimen of his character in this respect, is mentioned by
M'Kenzie in his life of Home. When two numbers of a periodical work, entitled
" The Edinburgh Review," were published in 1755, the bosom friends of Hume,
who were the conductors, concealed it from him, because, " 1 have heard," says
INl'Kenzie, " that they were afraid both of his extreme good nature, and his
extreme artlessness ; that, from the one, their criticisms would have been weak-
ened, or suppressed, and, from the other, their secret discovered;" and it was
not till Hume had repeated his astonishment that persons in Scotland beyond the

" " But there is a person that has written an Inquiry, liistoriral and critical, into the evidence
against Mary, queen of Scots ; and lias attempted to rufute the foregoing narrative. He quotes
a°singie passiige of the narrative, in which IMary is s;iid simply to refuse answering; and then
a single passage from Goodall, in wliicli she boiists simply that siie will answer; and he very
civillv, and almost directly, calls the author a liar, on account of this pretended contradiction.
Tiiat' whole Inquiry, from beginning lo end, is composed of such scandalous articles; and from
this instance, the reader may judge of the candour, fair dealing, veracit), and good manners of
the inquirer. There are, indeed, three events in our history, which may be regarded as touch-
stones of party- men. An English whig, wlio asserts the reality of the popish plot; an Irish
Catholic, who denies the massacre in 1041 ; and a Scottish Jacobite, who maintains the inno-
cence of queen IMary, must be considered as men beyond the reach of argument or reason;
and must be left to their prejudices."

DAVID HUME. 127

sphere of the literary circle of Edinburgh, could have produced so able a work,
tiiat he was made accjiiaiiited with the secret In whimsical revenge of the want
of confidence displayed by his friends, Hume gravely maintained himself to be
the author of a iiumorous Vvork of Adam Ferguson, " The History of Sister Peg,"
and penned a letter to the publisher, which any person who might peruse it
without knowing the circumstances, could not fail to consider a sincere acknow-
ledgment. Hume was a member of the Philosophical Society, which afterwards
merged into the Koyal Society of Edinburgh, and acted as joint secretary along
with Ur Munro junior. He was also a member of the illustrious Poker Club,
and not an uncongenial one, so long as the members lield their unobtrusive dis-
cussion in a tavern, over a small quantity of claret ; but when tills method of
managing matters was abolished, and the institution merged into the more conse-
quential denomination of " The Select Society," amidst the exertions of many
eloquent and distinguished men, he was only remarkable, along with his friend
Adam Smith, for having" never opened his mouth.

In 17GI, 3Ir Hume published the two remaining volumes of the History of
England, treating of the period previous to the accession of the house of Tudor :
he tells us that it was received A\ith " tolerable, and but tolerable success."
Whitaker, Hallam, Turner, and others, have examined their respective portions
of this period of history with care, and pointed out the inaccuracies of Hume ;
but the subject did not possess so nmch political interest as the later periods,
and general readers have not been much disposed to discuss the question of his
general accuracy, IMen such as the first name we have mentioned have attacked
him with peevishness on local and obscui-e matters of antiquarian research,
which a historian can hardly be blamed for neglecting : others, however, who
seem well-informed, have found serious objections to iiis accuracy. In an article
on the Saxon Chronicle, which appeared in the Ketrospective Review, by an
apparently well-informed writer, he is charged in these terms : " It would be
perfectly startling to popular credulity, should all the instances be quoted in
which the text of Hume, in the remoter periods more especially, is at the most
positive variance with the authorities he pretends to rest upon. In a series of
historical inquiries which the writer of this article had some years since particu-
lar occasion to superintend, aberrations of this kind were so frequently detected,
that it became necessary to lay it down as a rule never to admit a quotation
from that popular historian, when the authorities he pretends to refer to were
not accessible for the purpose of previous comparison and confirmation."

Hume, now pretty far advanced in life, had formed the resolution of ending
his days in literary retirement in his own country, when in I7G3, he was
solicited by the earl of Hertford to attend him on his endiassy to Paris, and
after having declined, on a second invitation he accepted the situation. In the
full blaze of a wide-spread reputation, the philosopher was now surrounded by
a new world of literary rivals, imitators, and admirers, and he received from a
circle of society ever searching for wliat was new, brilliant, and striking, num-
berless marks of distinction highly flattering to his literary pride, though not
unmixed with affectation. In some very amusing letters to his friends written
during this period, he shows, that if he was weak enough to feel vain of these
distinctions, he had sincerity enough to say so.

The fashionable people of Paris, and especially the ladies, practised on the
patient and good-humoured philosopher every torture whicli their extreme
desire to render him and themselves distinguished could di<:tate. " From what
has been already said of him," says lord Charlemont, " it is apparent that his
conversation to strangers, and particularly to Frenchmen, could be little de-
lightful, and still more particularly one would suppose, to French women ; and

128

PAvrn mrsm.

TM DO lady's toileUi? «tis ccKr.plete witfaoot Hmne's attendance. At the opera,
in tevad imiBeaBiB* feee nas usoally seen entre dexix jolU mina's.^ The ladies
u France gare the tMi, and the ion \ras deism." Madame D'Epinay, wIk>
terns him *' Grand et grce historic^raphe d'Ansleterre " uientions that it was
the will oi one of his eniertaineR that be should act the pan of a sultan, en-
deaTooriiis to aecore by his eloquence the ajTection of two beautiful female slaves.
The philoet^her was accordingly whiskered, tuihaned. and blackened, and
placed OB a so& betwixt two of the most celebrated beauties of Paris. Accord-
ii^ to the instmedons be had receired, he bent his knees, and struck his breast,
(or as Jdadame Ins it, " le rentre,'^ bint his tongue could not be brouffht to as-
sist his acdftos further than by uttering ~ Eb bien I mes demoiselles — Eh bien :
TOUB Yoila done— Eh bien ! toos roila — ^roos roila ici .*"" exclamations which he
n^ieated nnril he had exhausted the patience of those be iras expected to
oatigtain.^

In 1765, lord Heitfosd being appointed lord lieutenant of Ireland, 3Ir
Hoae, acoordinf to his expectation, was appointed secretary to the embassy,
and he officiated as charse d'a&ires, until the arrrral of the duke of Richmond-
Home, who had a sinsnlar antipathy to England, and who had previously en-
joyed hinself only in the midst rf his social literary circle at Edinburgh, in-
snnibly acqniied a idish for the erood-humoured poUteness and the gayety of
the Fiendh, and <m his return home in 1766, he left behind him a number of
Rgratted friends, amfNO^ whcm were two celebrated females, the marchioness
De Botbantane and the ooontess De Boofflers, who conducted a friendly, and
eren extremely intimate oorrespondenoe with the philosopher to the day of his
death."

In the OKdo' <^ time w« come now to the discission of an incident connected
with his readenoe <hi the oontinent, which fwnns a very remarkable epoch in

die life of Hmne, we mean his controversy with Rousseau. Bef(»« making

iny statonentB, howerer, it is right to warn oor readers, that an account of this
memoEable txansacti<m, soffident to give him an acquaintance with all its
peculiarities, woold »xoeed our limits, which permit of but a slight glance at the
inddents, and that indeed it is qnite impossible to form a conception of the
grotesqoeness <^ some of the incidents, and the peculiarities of character so
riridly displayed, witboot a p»tsal of the original documents, which are easily
accessible, and will well repay the troable of perasaL

When in 1762, the parliament ei Paris i^ued an arref against Rousseau, <hi
aeooont of his opinions. Home was applied to by a friend in Paris to discorer
for him a retreat in England ; Home willingly undertook a ta^ so congenial,
bat it did not suit the celebrated exile at that time to take adrantage of his of-
fer. BaoBEean, taking erery opportnnity to complain of the misf(Mtimes he suf-
fered, the transaction with Hume was again set on foot at the instigation of the
marchioness De Verdlin ; Hume wrote to Rousseau, oiSering his serrices, and
the latter returned him an answer owrflowing with extiaragant gratitude.
Boossean had, it appeared, discorered an ingenious method oi making himself
interesting : he pretended extreme poreny, and had oders of assistance repeated-
ly made him, wfaidi be pablidy and disdainfully refitsed, while he had in reality
as Himie afterwards discorered, resources suScieut to provide for his snppiHt.
In pore simplidty, Hume formed several designs for imposing on Rousseau's ig-
norance of the world, and establishing him comfortably in life, without allowing
him to know that be was assisted by others ; and the plan finally concluded and
acted on was, that he sboold be comfortably boarded in the mansion of 3Ir

33 Memoiis et CorrEspondaDce de Madame D'Epioav, iii. 2S1.
** Geaoal Cancspacdcnce of David Home, 4to, 1^, pasic

DAVID HUME. 129

DaTenport, at v>'<x<on, in the ccmrty of Derby, a ventlemaa wbo kindly Hader-
t«K^ to lull the sagpidoDS c^ tbe rrritaUe pfailoaapbar by aeeeptii^ of a reaMr»-
eration amoaniing to £30 a year. BaaHwaa aiiitiiJ hi IjomAem, amd af y eaiia g
ID public in his Armeiiiaa dreM, exceed iMii!li netiee, bodi froa the pobiie in
g^eoeral, and frrjim literary aim. Hane, by Us interert trith tke gmtiiitiit
obtained for him a pension of £100 a year, viridi it ■dtofl dMsae ia aatherity
to wish should be kept secret. Boosseaa expressed ■ndi tad^e^oa at tikii
condition, but he aftcrrwards declined the grant, hintine at the secrecy ^ an
impediment to his acceptance of it : his zeaioos friend procored the remoral oi
this impediment, and the pension was again aStnA , but its publicity aflorded a
far more gratifving opportunity oi refosaL iMBediately after be bad re-
tired to Wooton, with his boosekeeper and his drf. nothing occcnred appar-
ently to inflringfe his amicable iateesHne with Hume: bat that ix>diTidiial was
little aware of the storm in prepaiatioii. Ihe foreisfs pUbnopber began to dis-
cover the interest of his first appeassBce in Britain mkmttt'ntg. He mas not in
a place where be could be followed by crowds o€ ■iwidtiiag adamrerSj tbe jxeas
was lukewarm aitd regardless, and som^iaKS Testnred to bestow mm bni a SBeer,
and abore aU bo (Me sengfat to peneoite him. ll>e feefiags wiridb ffariir ^b-
pleasing circamstaDces oeeasioaed, appear to bare been roased to Bniiem adiea
b\- a sarcastic letter in the name of the king of FrrisEia, oi which KoasBeaa pre-
samed iFAlembert to hare been the author, btu wbk^ was daimed by Horace
^Valpole, and which made the drcle of Ae EiffiopeaB j&arweia ; and by an aDony-
moos critique of a somewhat slisrhtiDg natnre, wbicb had issued from a British
niajazine, but which appears not to hare been remaiked or much known at the
period. Of these two prododions it jdeased Rooeseaa to presame Darid Hume
ibe insiisrator, and he JMim di ill I5 fi 1— A is Ma anBd tike idea of a black pro-
ject for his rain. ecnatesaBee^ and devised by bis beoefiactiar imder tbe mask of
friendship. HoosaeaH then wrote a fierce leaer to Hume, dotging bxm in
somewhat Tajue terms with a number of bozrible designs, and in the geceral
manner of those who bring accusations of insxtezable things, referring him to
his own guilty breast for a more full explanattan. Hiraie naturally re«[U€aed a
farther explanation of ifae meaning of this enaoDS -epistle, and be received in
ansvver a narratire which occupies forty printed pages. It were vain to enUB^
eraie the subjects of complaint in this celebrated docuisenL There was an ae-
ctisatiou of terrible aneciation on the part of Kume, in getting a pcrtrait of tbe
aniortunate exile ensrared : he had insulted him by procuring dinners to be
sent to his lodgings in London, (a dii ii»iiniirf which Hune ac m n rt ed for on
the ground of there having been no conresaeitt chop boose n the Beigbbocr-
hood.) He had also Mattered him (an attestiea mhieh Hmne msimtshm was not
unacceptable at the period,) with a deep laid anliga^. Htaoe had also
formed a plan of opening all his letters, aad exawang his ccLrespiiadfiirp,
(an acciBation which Hume denied.) Hume was jiiitiaijle with the s«a sfaa in-
dividual wbo entertained towards Eoosseau a mortal hatred. A narrative of the
treatment which Rousseau had met with at Neufchatel, and which be wkbed to
have published in England, was delayed at tbe pres : but we shall grre in
Boisseau's own words (as translated) the most deadly article of the charge, pre-
misins, that tbe circumstances were occasioned by Humes having attempted to
impose on bim a coach hired and payed for, as a retonr vehicle : — " As «e
were sitting one evening, after supper, silently by ti»e fire-side, I cacght his e^e
intentlT fixed 00 mine, as indeed bippened very often : and that in a mann er
of which it is very ditScnli to give an idea. At that time be save me a stead-
fast, piercing look, mixed with a sneer, which greatly distixrbed me. To get
rid ot' tbe embarrassmem I lay nnder, I ecd.eavoared to look foil at hiBa in aiy
m. s

130 DAVID HUME.

turn ; but in fixing my eyes against his, 1 felt the most inexpressible terror,
and was obliged soon to turn them away. The speech and physiognomy of the
good David is that of an honest man ; but where, great CJod ! did this good man
borrow those eyes he fixes so sternly and unaccountably on those of his triends?
The impression of this look remained with me, and ga%e me much uneasiness.
]My trouble increased even to a degree of fainting ; and if I had not been re-
lieved by an ert'usion of tears I had been sutVocated. Presently after this I was
seized with the most violent remorse ; 1 even despised myself; till at length, in
a transport, which I still remeniber with delight, I sprang on his neck,
embraced him eagerly, while almost choked with sobbing, and bathed in tears,
I cried out in broken accents. No, no, David Hume cannot be treacherous. If
he be not the best of men, he must be the basest of mankind. David Hume
politely returned my embraces, and, gently tapping me on the back, repeated
several times, in a good-natured and easy tone, ^^ hy, what, my dear sir! nay,
my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir! He said nothing more. I felt my heart yearn
within me. We went to bed ; and I set out the next day for the country."

The charge terminates with accusing Hume of wilful blindness, in not being
aware, from the neglect with which Kousseau treated him, that the blackness of
his heart had been discovered. Soon after the controversy was terminated, a
ludicrous account of its amusing circumstances was given to the public ; the ex-
treme wit, and humorous pungency of which will excuse our insertion of it,
while we may also mention, that with its air of raillery, it gives an extremely
correct abstract of the charge of Kousseau. It is worthy of remark, that the
terms made use of show the author to have been colloquially acquainted with the
technicalities of Scottish law, although it is not likely that a professional person
would have introduced terms applicable only to civil transactions, into the model
of a criminal indictment. We have found this production in the Scots 3Iaga-
zine. IMr Ritchie says it appeared in the St James's Chronicle: in which it may
have been first published,

HEADS OF AN INDICTMEKT LAID BY J. J. ROUSSEAU, PHILOSOPHER, AGAINST

D. HUME, Esq.

1. That the said David Hume, to the great scandal of philosophy, and not
having the fitness of things before his eyes, did concert a plan with iMessrs
Froachin, Voltaire, and D'Alembert, to ruin the said J. J. Rousseau for ever by
bringing him over to England, and there settling him to his heart's content.

2. That the said David Hume did, with a malicious and traitorous intent,
procure, or cause to be procured, by himself or somebody else, one jjension of
the yearly value of £I00, or thereabouts, to be paid to the said J. J. Rousseau,
on account of his being a philosopher, either privately or publicly, as to him
the said J. J. Kousseau should seem meet.

3. That the said David Hume did, one night after he left Paris, put the said
J. J. Rousseau in bodily fear, by talking in his sleep ; although the said J. J.
Rousseau doth not know \vhether the said David Hume was really asleep, or
whether he shammed Abraham, or what he meant.

4. That, at another time, as the said David Hume and the said J. J. Rousseau
were sitting opposite each other by the lire-side in London, he the said Davi<l
Hume did look at him, the said J. J. Rousseau, in a manner of which it is dif-
ficult to give any idea ; that he the said J. J. Kousseau, to get rid of the embar-
rassment he was under, endeavoured to look full at him, the said David Hume,
in return, to try if he could not stare him out of countenance ; but in fixing his
eyes against his, the said David Hume's, he felt the most inexpressible teiTor,
and was obliged to turn them away, insomuch that the said J. J. Rousseau doth

DAVID HUME. 131

in Ill's heart think and believe, as much as he believes anything-, that he the said
David Hume is a certain composition of a white-witcli and a raltle-snake.

5. Tiiat the said Uavid llume on the same evening, after politely returning
tiie eiiihraces of him, the said J. J. Rousseau, and gently tapping him on the
back, did repeat several times, in a good-natured, easy tone, the words, " Why,
what, my dear sir! Nay, my dear sir! Oh my dear sir I" — From whence the
said J. J. Rousseau dolh conclude, as he thinks upon solid and sufficient grounds,
that he the said David Hume is a traitor; albeit he, the said J. J. Rousseau doth
acknowledge, that the physiognomy of the good David is that of an honest man,
all but those terrible eyes of his, which he must have borrowed; but he the said
J. J. Rousseau vows to (tod he naiinot conceive from whom or what

6. That the said David Hume hath more inquisitiveness about him than be-
cometh a philosopher, and did never let slip an opportunity of being alone with
the governante of him tbe said J. J. Rousseau.

7. That the said David Hume did most atrociously and flagitiously put him
the said J. J. Rousseau, philosopher, into a passion ; as knowing tliat then he
would be guilty of a number of absurdities.

8. That the said David Hume must have published ]Mr Walpole's letter in
the newspapei-s, because, at that time, there was neither man, woman, nor child
in the island of Great Britain, but the said David Hume, the said J. J. Rousseau,
and the printers of the several newspapers aforesaid.

9. Tiiat somebody in a certain magazine, and somebody else in a certain
newspaper, said something against him the said John James Rousseau, which he,
the said J.J. Rousseau, is persuaded, for the reason above mentioned, could be
nobody but the said David Hume.

10. That the said J. J. Rousseau knows, that he, the said David Hume, did open
and peruse tlie letters of him the said J. J. Rousseau, because he one day saw
the said David Hume go out of the room after his own servant, who had at that
time a letter of the said J. J. Rousseau's in his hands ; which must liave been in
order to take it from the servant, open it, and read the contents.

H. That the said David Hume did, at the instigation of the devil, in a most
wit;ked and unnatural manner, send, or cause to be sent, to the lodgings of him,
the said J. J. Rousseau, one dish of beef steaks, ther-eby meaning to insinuate,
that he the said J. J. Rousseau was a beggar, and came over lo England to ask
alms : whereas, be it known to all men by these presents, that he, tiie said John
James Rousseau, brought with him the means of sustenance, and did not come
with an empty purse ; as he doubts not but he can live upon his labours, with
the assistance of his friends; and in short can do better without the said David
Hume than with him.

12. That besides all these facts put together, the said J. J. Rousseau did not
like a certain appearance of things on the whole.

Rousseau, with his accustomed activity on such occasions, loudly repeated his
complaints to the world, and filled the ears of his friends with the villany of his
seeming benefactor. 'Ihe method which Hume felt himself compelled to adopt
for his own justification was one which proved a severe punishment to his op-
ponent ; he published the correspondence, with a few explanatory observations,
and was ever afterwards silent on the subject. Some have thought that he ouglit
to have remained silent from the commencement, and that such was liis wish
we have ample proof from his correspondence at that period, but to have con-
tinued so in the face of the declarations of his enemy, he must have been more
tiian human ; and the danger which his fame incurred from the acts of a man
who had the means of making what he said respected, will at least jusii ft/ him.

132 DAVID HUME.

Huine Imd returned to Edinburgh with the renewed intention of thei«
spending ills days in retireiuent, and in liie alHiience which liis t'rugality, perse-
verance, genius, and good conduct liad acquired for liini ; but in 17()5, at tlie
solicitation of general Comvay, he acttul (or that gentleman as an under-
secretary of state. It is probable that he did not make abetter under-secretary
than nu)st men of equally diligent habits might have dune, and nothing occurs
worthy of notice during his tenure of that office, whi(;h he resigned in Janujiry,
17G8, Avhen general ( onway resigned his secretaryship.

We have nothing to record from this period till we come to the closing scene
of tile philosopher's life. In tlie spring of 1775, he was struck with a disorder
of tiie bowels, which he soon became aware brought with it the sure prognosti-
cation of a speedy end. '* I now," he says " reckon upon a speedy dissolution.
I have suffered very little pain from my disorder ; and what is more strange,
have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suHered a moment's
abatement of my spirits, insonmch, that were 1 to name the period of my life,
whi«;h I should most choose to pass over again, I might be tempt«»d to point to
this latter period. I possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same
gayety in company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying,
cuts ort'oiily a few years of infirmities, and though I see many symptoms of my
literary reputation breaking out at last with additional lustre, I know that I
could have but lew years to enjoy it. It is diliicult to be more detached froni
life than I am at present."

The entreaties of his friends prevailed on Hume to make a last effort to re-
gain his health, by drinking the Bath waters, and he left Kdinburgh for that
purpose in the month of April, after having prepared his will, and written the
memoir of himself, so often referred to. As he passed through IMorpeth, he
met his affectionate friends John Home the poet and Adam Smith, who had
come from London for the purpose of attending him on his journey, and who
would have passed him had they not seen his servant standing at the inn door.
The meeting of these friends must have been melancholy, for they were strongly
attached to each other, and the intimacy betwixt the philosopher aud the
enthusiastic poet Home, seemed to have been strengthened by the striking con-
trast of their temperaments. The intercourse of the friends on their journey was
supported by Hume with cheerfulness, and even with gayety ; and he never
morosely alluded to his prospects of dissolution. On one occasion, when Home
was ofliciously preparing his pistols, (for he was usually inspired with a mili-
tary enthusiasm,) Hume said to him, "you shall have your liumour, .)ohn, and
fi'^ht with as many highwaymen as you please, for I have too little of life left to
be an object worth saving." Of this journey a journal was found among the
papers of Home, in the handwriting of the poet, which has been fortunately
given to the wDrld by Mr M'Kenzie. Kegretting that we cannot quote the whole
of this interesting document, we give a characteristic extract.

" Newcastle, Wednesday, 24,th Aprile.

" Mr Hume not quite so well in the morning ; says, that he had set out merely
to please his friends ; that he would go on to please them ; that I'erguson and
Andrew Stuart, (about whom we had been talking) were answerable for short-
ening his life one week a piece ; for, says he, you will allow Xenophon to be
goo<l authority; and he lays it down, that suppose a man is dying, nobody has
a right to kill him. He set out in this vein, and continued all the stage in this
cheerful and talking hiunour. It was a fine day, and we went on to Uurham—
from that to Uarlington, ^vhere we passed the night.

" in the evening Mr Hume thinks himself more easy and light than he ha;

PATRICK HmiE. 133

beei: any time for three inontlis. In tlie course of our conversation ue touched
upon tlie national aifairs. He still maintains, tliat the national (lel)t must he
the ruin of Britain, and laments that the two most civilized nations, tiie iiritish
and Frencli, should be on tiie decline ; and the barbarians, the Goths and
Vandals of (iermany and Kussia, should be rising in power and renown. The
Frencii king, he says, has ruined the state by recalling the parliaments. Mr
Hume thinks tliat there is only one man in France fit to be minister, (the arch-
bishop of i'oulo'ise,) of the family of I'rienne. He told me some curious anec-
dotes \\ith regard to this prelate, that he composed and con-ected without
writing ; that 3Ir Hume had heard him repeat an e'legant oration of an hour
and a quarter in length, ivhich he had never written. I\Ir Hume talking with
the princess Beauvais about French policy, said that he knew but one man in
France capable of restoring its greatness ; the lady said she knew one too, and
wislied to hear if it was the same ; they accordingly named eacii their man, and
it \vas this prelate."

The journey had the effect of partly alleviating Mr Hume's disorder, but it
returned with renewed virulence. While his strength permitted such an at-
tempt, he called a meeting of his literary friends to partake witii him of a fare-
^vell dinner. The inviUition sent to Dr Blair is extant, and is in these terms:
" 3Ir John Hume, alias Home, alias the late lord conservator, alias the late
minister of the gospel at Athelstaneford, has calculated matters so as to arrive
infallibly Avith his friend in St David's Street, on Wednesday evening. He has
asked several of Dr Blair's friends to dine with him there on Tliursday, being
the 4th of July, and begs the favour of the doctor to make one of the number."
Subjoined to the card there is this note, in Dr Blair's hand writing, ** Mem.
This the last note received from David Hume. He died on tiie 25th of Au-
gust, 1776." This mournful festival, in honour as it were of the departure of
the most esteemed and illustrious member of their brilliant circle, was attended
by lord Elibank, Adam Smith, Dr Blair, Dr Black, professor Ferguson, and
John Home. On Sunday the 2Gth August, 1776, Mr Hume expired. Of the
manner of his death, after the beautiful picture which has been drawn of the
event by his friend Adam Smith, we need not enlarge. The calmness of his
last moments, unexpected by many, was in every one's mouth at the period, and
it is still well known. He was buried on a point of rock overhanging the old
town of Edinburgh, now surrounded by buildings, but then bare and wild — the
spot he had himself chosen for the purpose. A contlict betwixt a vague horror
at his imputed opinions, and respect for tiie individual who had passed among
them a life so irreproacliable, created a sensation among the populace of Edin-
burgh, and a crowd of people attended the body to its grave, which for some
time was an object of curiosity. According to his request, Hume's Dialogues on
Natural Religion were published after his death, a beautifully classic piece of
composition, bringing us back to the days of Cicero. It treats of many of the
speculations pi-opounded in his other works.

HU.ME, Patrick, first earl of Marchmont, a distinguished patriot and stafes-
maii, was born, January 13tli, 1(541. His original place in society was that of
the laird of Polwarth, in Berwickshire, being the eldest son of Sir Patrick Hume
of Polwarth, the representative of an old baronial family, by Christian Hamil-
ton, daughter of Sir Alexander Hamilton of Inner\vick. The subject of our
memoir succeeded his father in 1G4S, while as yet a mere child; and was
accordingly indebted to his excellent mother for the better part of his early
education. He appears to have been, by her, brought up in the strictest tenets
of the presbyterian religion, which flourished, without any crmstraint upon its
private exercise, daring all his early years, till it was discountenanced by govern-

134 PATRICK HUirE.

ment after the Restoration. Sir Patrick, however, was not only an admirer of
(lie form of worship enjoined hy that religious system, but a zealous maintainer
of its pretensions to a divine right, as the only true church of Christ ; and this,
it is said, was what first inspired him uiih the feelings of a patriot. Having
been sent to parliament in 16G5, as representative of the county of Berwick, he
soon distinguished liimself by the opposition which he gave, along with the duke
of Hamilton and others, to the headlong measures of the government. In H)73,
tlie king sent a letter to parliament desiring a levy of soldiers and money to
support them, and the duke of Lauderdale moved that it be referred to the lords
of the articles, who were always at the beck of government. This proposal,
though strictly in accordance with the custom of the Scottish parliament, was
opposed by the duke of Hamilton, who asserted that the royal wishes ought to
be considered by the whole assembled representatives of the nation. On Sir
Patrick Hume expressing his concurrence with the duke, he was openly pointed
out to parliament by Lauderdale, as a dangerous person. Hereupon, Sir Patrick
said, " he hoped this was a free parliament, and it concerned all the members to be
free in what concerned the nation." In the ensuing year, he was one of those
who went with the duke of Hamilton to lay the grievances of the nation before
the king, whose delusive answer to their application is well known. It was not
possible that a person who maintained so free a spirit in such an age could long
escape trouble. In 1G75, having remonstrated against the measure for establish-
ing garrisons to keep down the people, he was connuitted by the privy council
to the tolbooth of Edinburgh, as " a factious person, and one who had done
tiiat which might usher in confusion." After suffering confinement for six
months in Stirling castle, he was liberated through the intercession of friends,
but not long after was again confined, and altogether suffered imprisonment for
about two years. The order for his liberation, dated 17th April, 1G79, states
that " he had been imprisoned for reasons known to his majesty, and tending to
secure the public peace ;" and adds, " the occasions of suspicion and public
jealousy being over, he is ordered to be liberate." To continue our memoir in
the words of Mr (ieorge Crawfurd,' who had received information from Sir
Patrick's own mouth, " Finding after this that the ministers of state were most
earnestly set on his destruction, and that he could not live in security at home,
he went to England, and entered into a strict friendship with the duke of
3Ionmouth, the earl of Shaftesbury, and the lord Husscl, who was his near rela-
tion. With them he often met, and had many conferences on the state of Scot-
land, and what might be done there to secure the kingdom from popery and
arbitrary power, in the event of a popish successor. But, as his lordship pro-
tested to me, there never passed among them the least intimation of any design
against the king's life, or the duke of York's ; that was wliat they all had an
abhorrence of But he said, he thought it was lawful for subjects, being under
such pressures, to try how they might be relieved from them; and their design
never went further."

Notwithstanding the pure intentions of this little band of patriots, the govern-
ment, as is well known, was able to fasten upon them the charge of having
conspired the deaths of the king and liis brother ; and to this infamous accusa-
tion, lord Kussell fell a victim in England, and 31r Baillie of Jerviswood, in
Scotland. It was on the Slth of December, 1684, that the latter individual
suffered ; before that time, Sir Patrick Hume, though conscious of innocence,
had gone into hiding, being justified in that step by a degree of personal
infirmity, which unfitted him for enduring imprisonment. Ihe place selected for
his concealment was the sepulchral vault of his family, underneath the parish
' Lives and Charailers of the Oflii-ers of tlic Crown, and of the State in Scotland.

PATRICK HUME. 135

cluirch of Polwarth, about two miles from Hedbraes castle, the house in which
he "-eiierally resided. Here he lived for many weelvs of the autniun of IGSt,
\\itiiout fire and hardly any light, and surrounded by the ghastly oijjects wh'uh
usually furnisii forth such a scene. He was enabled, however, by tlie firmness
of his own mind, and the aHections of his amiable family, to suH'er this dreary
self-imprisonment without shrinking. No one knew of his concealment but liis
family, and one " Jamie Winter," a carpenter, of whose fidelity they had good
reason to be assured. Having been provided with a bed through the aid of tliis
humble friend, 8ir Patrick depended tor food and other necessaries upon the
heroic devotedness of his daughter Grizel, who, though only twelve years of age,
nightly visited this dismal scene, witiiout manifesting the least agitation either on
account of real or imaginary dangers. Supported by sucli means. Sir Patrick
never lost his cheerfulness of temper, but, on the contrary, could laugh heartily at
any little incident detailed to him by his daughter. '1 he noble child had no other
means of obtaining his food, except by secreting part of what she iiad upon her
own plate at the family meals. Her having one day secured an entire sbeep's-
head, which her younger brother Alexander thought she had swallowed in a
moment, supplied one of those domestic jests with which the fugitive father Mas
entertained. While in this lonely place, Sir Patrick had no other reading than
Buchanan's psalms, which he <;onned so thoroughly, that he ever after had the
most of them by heart. As the winter advanced, lady Polwarth contrived a
retreat underneath the floor of a low apartment at Redbraes, and thinking that
tins might serve to conceal her husband in the event of any search taking place,
had him removed to his own house, where he accordingly lived for S(ime time,
till it was found one morning, that the place designed for concealment, had
become half filled with water.

Warned by this incident, and by the execution of his friend I\lr Baillie, he
resolved to remain no longer in his native country. It was projected that he
should leave the house next morning in disguise, attended by his grieve or farm-
overseer, John Allan, who was instructed to give out that he was going to attend
a horse-market at iMorpeth. Ihe party stole away by night, and had proceeded
a considerable distance on their way, when Sir Patrick, falling into a reverie,
parted company with his attendant, and did not discover the mistake till he found
himself on the banks of the Tweed. This, however, w as a most fortunate misad-
venture, for, soon after bis parting with Allan, a company of soldiers that had
been in search of him at Kedbraes, and followed in the expectation of overtaking
him, c^ame up, and would have inevitably discovered and seized him, if he had not
been upon another track. On learning what had happened, he dismissed his
servant, and, leaving the main-road, reached London through bye-ways. On
this journey he represented himself as a surgeon, a character which he could
have supported effectually, if called upon, as he carried a case of lancets, and
was acquainted with their use. From London he found his way to France, and
thence after a short stay, walked on foot to Brussels, intending to converse with
the duke of Monmouth. Finding* the duke had gone to the Hague, he pro-
ceeded to Holland, but did not immediately obtain a conference with that ill-
fated nobleman. He had an audience, however, of the prince of Orange, who,
" looking on him (to use the words of Crawfurd,) as a confessor for the protes-
tant relig^ion, and the liberties of his country, treated him with a very particular
respect."

On the death of Charles II., in February, 1GS5, and the accession of the duke
of York, ^^hose attachment to the catholic faith rendered him, in their eyes,
unfit to reign, the British refugees in Holland concerted two distinct but relative
expedition^, for the salvation of the protestant religion, and to maintain " the

13G PATRICK HUME.

natural and native rights and liberties of tlie free people of Hritain and Ireland,
and all the le','al fences of society and property lliere estal)lislied." One of tliese
expeditions «as to land in England, under tlie duke of ^lonnioutli, uliose prose-
cution of liis own views upon the crown, under the favour of the protestant
interest, is well known. 'Ihe otlier was to be under ihe ccnduct of tlie eail of
Argyle, and was to land in Scotland, >vliere it was expected that an army would
be formed in the hrst place from his lordshi|>'s Highland retainers, and speedily
enforced by the malcontents of Ayrshire, and other parts of the Lowlands. Sir
Patrick Hume has left a memoir respecting the latter enterprise, from which it
clearly appears that 3Ionnioulh gave distinct pledges (afterwards l;:nientably
broken,) as to the deference of his own personal views to the sense of the party in

general, and also that Argyle acted throughout the whole pi'eparations, and in

the expedition itself, with a wilfulness, self-seeking, and want of energy, which
were but poorly compensated by the general excellence of his motives, and the
many worthier points in his character. Sir Patrick Hume and ^ir John Coch-
rane of Ochiltree, alike admirable for the purity and steadiness of their political
views, were next in command, or at least in the actual condu<;t of all'airs, to the
earl. 'I'iie sword of the former gentleman is still preserved, and bears upon
both sides of its blade, the following inscription in German :

" Got bewarr die aufrechte Sdiottin,'

that is, God preserve the righteous Scots. It was not destined, however, that
fortune should smile on this enterprise. The patriots sailed on the 2nd of IViay,
in three small vessels, and on the (ith arrived near Kirkwall in the Orkney
islands. The imprudent landing of two gentlemen, who were detained by the
bishop, served to alarm the government, so that when the expedition reached
the country of Argyle, he found that all his friends, upon whom he depended,
had been placed under arrest at the capital. After triding away several weeks
in his own district, and adbrding time to the government to collect its forces,
he formed the resolution of descending upon Glasgow. Meanwhile, Sir Patrick
Hume and others were forfnulted, their estates confiscated, and a high reward
offered for their apprehension. While Argyle was lingering at Rothesay, Sir
I'atrick conducted the descent of a foraging party upon Greenock, and, though
opposed by a party of militia, succeeded in his object. Allowing as largely as
<;ould be demanded for the personal feelings of this gentleman, it would really
a[>pear from his memoir that the only judgment or vigour displayed in the whole
enterprise, resided in himself and Sir John Cochrane. When the earl finally
resolved at Kilpatrick to give up the appearance of an army, and let each man
shift for himself, these two gentlemen conducted a party of less than a hundred
men across the Clyde, in the face of a superior force of the enemy, and were
able to protect themselves till they reached JMuirdykes. Here they were assailed
by a large troop of cavalry, and were compelled each man to fight a number of
personal (;ontests in order to save his own life. Yet, by a judicious disposition of
their little force, and the most unflinching bravery and perseverance, Hume and
Cochrane kept their ground till night, when, apprehending the approach of
larger body of foot, they stole away to an unfrequented part of the country,
where they deliberately dispersed.

Sir I'atrick Hume found protection for three weelcs, in the house of Mont-
gomery of Lainshaw, where, or at Kilwinning, it would appear that lie wrote
<ho memoir above alluded to, which was first printed in IMr liose's observations
on Fox's historical work, and latterly in the fllarchmont papers, (IbSl.) The
better to confound the seanih made for him, a report of his <leath was circulated
by his friends. Having escaped by a vessel I'rom the west coast, he proceeded

PATRICK HUME. 137

l)y Dublin to Bourdeaiix, where we find he was on the 15th of November. He
now resumed his surgical cliaracfer, and passed under tlie name of Dr Peter
Wallac^e. I'arly in 1()8(), lie appears to have proceeded by Geneva to Holland,
where his family pined him, and they resided together at Utrecht for three
years. The pi<;ture of this distressed, but pious and cheerful family, is very
artectinnly friven by lady !\Iurray, in the well-known memoirs of her mother, lady
Grizel Baillie. They wei-e reduced to such straits through the absence of all
regular income, that lady Hume could not keep a servant, and Sir Patrick was
obliged — but this must have been a labour of love — to tea(-h his own children.
They were frequently compelled to pawn their plate, to provide the necessaries of
life until a fresh supply reached them. Yet, even in this distress, their house
was ever open lo the numerous refugees who shared in their unhappy fate. Not
forgetting political objects. Sir Patrick, in 16 88, wrote a letter powerful in
style and arguments, to put the presbyterian clergy in Scotland on their guard
against the insidious toleration which king James proposed for the purpose of
ellecting the ascendancy of popery. In this document, which has been printed
among the Marchmont papers by Sir G. H. Rose, Ave find him giving an animated
picture of the prince of Orange, whom he already contemplated as the future
deliverer of his country, and no doubt wished to point in that character to the
attention of Scotsmen ; " one," says he, " bred a Calvinist, who, for religious
practice, excels most men so high in quality, and is equal to the most part of
whatever rank of the sincere and serious in that connnunion ; for virtue and
good morals beyond many ; those infirmities natural to poor mankind, and con-
sistent with seriousness in religion, breaking out as little, either for degree or
frequency, from him, as from most part of good men, and not one habitual to
him : one of a mild and courteous temper ; of a plain, ingenuous, and honest
nature ; of a humane, gay, and affable carri.ige, without any token of pride or
disdain ; one educated and brought up in a republic as free as any in the world,
and inured to the freedom allowed by and possessed in it. His greatest enemy,
if he know him, or my greatest enemy, if he read this, must find his own con-
science witnessing to his face, that what 1 have said is truth, and that I am one
of more worth than to sully my argument with a flaunting hyperbole even in
favour of a prince." Ihe modern reader, who is acquainted with the picture
usually drawn of the same personage by the English historians, will probably be
startled at the gayety and aftability here attributed to the prince ; but, besides
the unavoidable prepossession of Sir Patrick for a person who, it would appear,
had treated him kindly, and stood in the most endearing relation to all his
favourite objects in religion and politics, it must be allowed that, at an age
which might be called youth (thirty-eight), and previous to his undertaking the
heavy and ungrateful burden of royalty in Britain, William might have been
better entitled to such a description than he was in the latter part of his life.

Before this time, the eldest son of Sir Patrick Hume, and his future son-in-law
Eaillie, had obtained conuuissions in the horse-guards of the prince of Orange,
in Avhose expedition to England all three soon after took a part. These gentle-
men were among those who suffered in the storm by which a part of the prince's
fleet was disabled ; they had to return to port with the loss of all their luggage,
Avhich, in the existing state of their aftairs, was a very severe misfortune. The
little party appeal's to have speedily refitted and accompanied the prince at his
landing in Devonshire, as we find Sir Patrick writing a diary of the progress to
London, in which he seems to have been near the prince all the way from Exeter.
In the deliberations held at London respecting the settlement of the new govern-
ment. Sir Patrick bore a conspicuous part ; but it was in Scotland that his zeal
and judgment found a proper field of display. In the convention parliament,

138 PATIUCK IIUMB.

which sat doun at Edinburgh, 31 ardi U, 1689, he appeared as representitive
ofthe couiitv of BerHicU; and, an objection being made on the score of his
forfaultiire, lie ^^as unanimously yoted a member by the house. '1 he decision of
this assembly in favour of a settlement of tlie crown upon William and his con-
sort 31ary, soon followed.

The c.-ireer of public service was now opened to the subject of our memoir, at
a period of life when his judgment must have been completely matured, and
after he had proved, by many years of suffering under a tyrannical government,
how worthy he was to obtain honours under one of a liberal complexion. In
July, ltJ90, his attainder was rescinded by act of parliament; he was soon
after sworn a member of the privy council ; and in December, 1(590, he was
created a peer by the title of lord rolwarth. The preamble of the patent is a
splendid testimony to the eminent virtues he had displayed in asserting the
rights and religion of his country. King William at the same time vouchsafed
to him an addition to his armorial biarings, " an orange proper ensigned, with
an imperial crown, to be placed in a surtout in his coat of arms in all time
coming, as a lasting mark of his majesty's royal favour to the family of Pohvarth,
and in conmiemoration of his lordship's great atlection to his said majesty."

From this period, the life of lord Polwarih is chiefly to be found in the his-
tory of his country. He was appointed in 1092, to be principal sheriff of Ber-
wickshire, and in 1C93, to be one of the four extraordinary lords of session.
Though there is no trace of his having been bred to the law, liis conduct in
these two employments is said to have been without blemish. His reputation,
indeed, for decisions conformable to the laws, for sagacity and soundness of
judgment, is, perhaps, one of the most remarkable parts of the brilliant fame
which he has left behind him. In 1696, he attained the highest office in Scot-
land, that of lord chancellor, and in less than a year after, he was promoted in
the peerage by the titles, earl of jMarchmont, viscount of Blassonberry, lord
Pohvarth, Kedbraes, and Greenlaw, to him and to his heirs male whatsoever.
He was soon after named one of the commission of the treasury and admiralty ;
and in 1693 was appointed lord high commissioner to represent the king's per-
son in the parliament which met at Edinburgh in July of that year. To pur-
sue the weirds of Sir George Rose, who gives a sketch of the life of the earl in
his preface to the Marchmont papers, " his correspondence with king W illianj
and his ministers, wiiilst lie exercised these high functions, exhibits an earnest
and constant desire to act, and to advise, as should best promote at once the
honour of his master and benefactor, and the weal of the state ; and he had the
good fortune to serve a prince, who imposed no duties upon him which brought
into conflict his obligations to the sovereign and to liis country."

The earl of 3Iarchniont was acting as commissioner at the General Assembly
of 1702, when the death of his affectionate sovereign interrupted the proceedings,
and plunged him into the deepest grief. He was appointed by queen Anne to
continue to preside over the assembly till the conclusion of its proceedings; but
the principles of this great man were too rigid to allow of his long continuing
in office under the new government. In his letter to queen Anne, written on
the death of king W illiam, he was too little of a courtier to disguise the feelings
which possessed him as a man, although he must have known that every word
he used in admiration or lamentation of her predecessor must have been
grating to her ears. In the tirct session of the parliament after her accession,
he presented to it an act for the alijuration of the pretender ; and, thoiJgh it was
in conformity to, and in imitation of the English act passed immediately on her
ascending the throne, and was read a first time, the high commissioner adjourned
the iiouse in order to stop the measure. In a memorial to the queen of the 1st

PATRICK HTBIE, 139

of July, 1702, {Marchmoiit Papers) will be found a full vindication of his con-
duct in this matter, and a statement of that held by his friends, and the com-
missioner, the duke of Mueensberry, ditlerin^ essentially from Lockhart's. He
was on this dismissed from iiis office of cliancellor, tlie place being conferred on
the earl of Searteld.

Havingr thus sacrificed his ofiice to his principles, he pursued tlie latter in
the ensuing parliaments with the consistency and fervour ^\hicli might have been
expected from such a inan. The protestant succession in the house of Hanover,
and the union of the two divisions of the island under one legislature, were the
t\vo objects on whicli he now centered his attention and energies. It is hardly
necessary to remind the reader that the general temper of the Scottish people
was pervei-sely opposed to both of these measures, and tliat it was only the
minority of such consistent A\higs as lord 3Iarchmont, who, reposing more upon
great abstract principles than narrow views of immediate advantage, saw tliem in
their proper light, and gave tliem the weight of their influence. An attempt of
the earl to introduce an act for the Hanover succession, at a time ^\hen his fel-
low statesmen were chiefly bent on asserting by the act of Security the useless
independence of their counti-y, was so ill received tiiat there was even some talk
of consigning this noble patriot to the state-prison in Edinburgh castle. After-
wTirds, however, when the government of queen Anne was obliged to adopt the
measure of a union, his lordship had the pleasure of contributing his aid — and
most willingly was it rendered — towards A»hat had been the grand object of his
political life. The selection of the Scottish commissioners, upon which the whole
matter hinged, was effected in obedience to a sagacious advice tendered by lord
Marchmont — namely, tiiat they should be " the most considerable men, pro-
vided they were whigs, and therefore friends to the Kevolution ; but such alone,
with disregard to their feelings respecting an incorporating union, as hostile to
it or not." The reasonings he employed to enforce this principle of selection
are to be found in the 3Iarchmont Tapers ; and we learn from Lockhart to how
gTeat an extent they were acted on. Speaking of the commissionei-s, this
gentleman says, that '* all were of the court or whig interest except himself," an
ardent Jacobite, an exception only made in the hope of gaining him through
his uncle, the whig lord Wharton. It is universally allowed that this principle,
though the author of it has not heretofore been verj- distinctly known, achieved
the union.

We are now to advert to a circumstance of a painful nature respecting the
earl of INIarchmont, but which we have no doubt has taken its rise either from
error or from calumny. As a leader of the independent party in tiie Scots par-
liament — called the Squadrone Volante — it is alleged that his hnxlship was one
of those individuals who were brought over to the government views by bribery ;
and Lockhart actually places the sum of 1104/. \bs. Id. against his name, as
his share of the twenty thousand pounds said to have been disbursed by the
English exchequer, for the purpose of conciliating the cliief opponents of the
measure. Sir George H. Rose has made an accurate and laborious investigtition
into the foundation of these ailegacions, from which it would not only appear
that lord 31archmont has been calumniated, but that a very incorrect notion has
hitherto prevailed respecting tlie application of the money abo»e referred to.
We nmst confess that it has always appeared to us a most improbable story, that,
even in the impoverished state of Scotland at that time, noblemen, some of whom
were known to entertain liberal and enlightened views, and had jireviously
maintained a pure ciiaracter, were seduced by such trifling sums as those placed
against them in the list given by Lockhart. Sir (Teorge Rose has shown, to our
entire satisfaction, that the sum given on this occasion to the earl of -Marchmont

140 PATRICK HUME.

wns a jiaynieiit of arrears duo upon offices and pensions — in other words, tlie
payment of a just debt ; and that lie is not blameablc in the matter, unless it
can he shown tliat receivinj,' the payment of a debt can under any circumstances
be disgraceful to the creditor. Tlie best proof of his lordship's innocence
is to be found in his conduct at the union, and for years before it. It is clear
from liis letters to the English statesmen, that the union was an object which he
constantly had at heart, and that so far from being drawn over by any means
whatever to their views, he had in reality urged them into it with all his
strength and spirit, and all along acted with them in the negotiations by which
it was ellected. IMoney does not appear to have been so abundant on this oc-
casion, as to make it probable that any was spent, except upon opponents.

The earl of Marchmont offered himself as a candidate at the election of the
Scots representative peers in 1707, and again on the dissolution of parliament
in 1708, but in each case without success. He could scarcely calculate on the
countenance of queen Anne's government; for, if he had rendered it eminent
services, he had also taught it how uncompromising was his adherence to his
principles. 'J bus his parliamentary life ceased with the union. But his letters
written subsequently to it give evidence that liis mind was engaged deeply in all
the events allecting the weal and honour of his country. Nor was his patriotism
deadened by the insult and injury he received from the court, when, at the ao
cession of the tory ministry in 1710, he was deprived of his office of sheritl" of
Berwickshire, which was conferred on the earl of Home.

In 1703, lord IMarchmont had the misfortune to lose his amiable and affec-
tionate spouse, of the family of Ker of Cavers, to whose virtues he has left a very
affecting testimony. In 1709, he sufl'ered a hardly less severe calamity in the
death of his eldest son lord Bolwarth, a colonel of cavalry, who, beginning his
service in king William's body-guard, served through his wars and the duke of
Marlijorough's with reputation, and died childless, though t\vice married. He
was treasurer depute in 1090. His amiable and honourable character fully jus-
tified his father's grief. 'Ihe second brother Kobert, also a soldier, died many
years before him.

'i he accession of George I. gave to lord Marchmont what he called the desire
of his heart, a protestant king upon the throne. He was immediately re-ap-
pointed sheriff of Berwickshire. In 1715, in the seventy-fifth year of iiis age,
acting on the feelings and principles of his youth, he forbade a meeting of the
gentlemen of the county, ^vhich had been proposed in the professed view of ob-
taining a redress of hardships, but which would have embarrassed the newly
established government ; and his lordship took the necessary pre<uiutions to render
his prohibition effectual. When he saw the protestant succession secure, he
gave up all thoughts of active life, and removed to Berwick-upon-'l'weed, to spend
the remainder of his days in retirement. He retained his cheerful disposition-
to the last. A short time before his death, he was visited by his daughter, lady
Grizel J'aillie, and his grand-children, wlio, with a number of his friends, had a
dance. I'jeing then very weak in his limbs he was unable to come down stairs,
but desired to be carried down to see them ; and, as pleasingly recorded by his
grand-daughter, lady Murray, lie was so much delighted with the happy faces
lie saw around him, that he remarked, " though he could not dance, he could
yet beat time with his foot."

On the 1st of August, 1724, this illustrious patriot breathed his last at Ber-
wick, in the eighiy-lhirtl year of his age, leaving one of the most irreproachable
characters which have come down to us from that time, if not from others of
greater general virtue. He had become so reconciled to the prospect of death,
that, though no doubt sensible of the solemn change which it was to produce, he

ALEXANDER HU.ME. 141

could make it the subject of a gentle mirth. Being' observer! to smile, he was
asked tlie reason by his gi-andson, the ingenious lord Hinning, to whom he an-
swered, " I am diverted to think wiiat a disappointment the worms will meet
with, when they come to me expecting a good meal, and find nothing but
bones." Lord 3Iarchmont, be it remarked, tiiough at one time a handsome
man, had always been of a spare habit of body, and was now much attenuated.
His cliaracter has already been sutficiently displayed in his actions, and tlie
Blight commentaries we have ventured to make upon them. It is impossible,
however, to retrain from adding tlie testimony of Fox, who, in his historical
work, says of him, as Sir Patrick Hume, that " he is proved, by the whole
tenor of his life and conduct, to have been uniformly zealous and sincere in tlie
cause of his country."

HuMK, Alexander, second earl of ^larchmont, the eldest surviving son and
successor of the first earl, having maintained the historical lustre of the family,
deserves a place in the present work, though only perhaps in a subordinate way.
He was born in 1675, and in his boyhood shared the exile and distress of his
family. Before his elder brother's death, he was distinguished as Sir Alexander
Campbell of Cessnock, having married the daughter and heiiess of that faiuily.
He was brought up as a lawyer, and became a judge of the court of session be-
fore he was thirty years of age. He was a pri\-y councillor and a baron of the
court of Exchequer, and served in the Scottish parliament, first for Kirkwall,
and then for Berwickshire, when the act of union passed. Emulating his
father's feelings, he zealously promoted that measure, and took a very active
share in the arduous labours that were devolved upon the sub-committee, to which
the articles of the union were referred.

But the principal historical transaction in which this nobleman was concerned,
was the introduction of tlie family of Hanover to the British throne. A report
having been circulated tliat the electoral family was indifferent to the honoui's
opened up to them by the act of succession, lord Polwarth, (for he had now at-
tained this designation,) proceeded in 1712, to Hanover, and entered into a
correspondence with the august family there resident, which enabled him fully
to contradict the rumour. He took a leading part in suppressing the rebellion
of 1715, by which that succession was sought to be defeated, and, in 1716, was
rewarded for his services, by being appointed ambassador to the court of
Denmark.

After acceding to the family honours in 1722, the earl of 3Iarchmont was
honoured with several important places of trust under government, till joining
the opposition against the excise scheme of Sir Robert Walpole, he forfeited the
favour of the court and his place as a privy councillor, which he then held.
" It appears," says Sir George Henry Rose,' " that the distinguished members of
the Scottish nobility who joined in this act of hostility to the ministers, were
less induced so to do by any particular objections to that measure of finance,
than by the hope, that their jiuictiou with the English who resisted it, might
lead to the subversion of lord Hay's government of Scotland, a rule wbicli they
felt to be painful and hiuniliating. They knew it moreover to be sustained by
means, many of which they could not respect, and which they believed to
tend to degrade and alienate the nation. That they judged rightly in appre-
hending that the system adopted by Sir Robert Walpole and his virtual viceroy,
for the management of the public afl'aii-s in North Britain, was ill calculated to
conciliate to the reigning family the affections of the people, was but too sut-
ficiently proved by subsequent events. He sat as one of the sixteen Scots peers
in the parliament of 1727 ; but at the general election in 175 i, the hand of
1 Preface to Marchmont Papers.

142 HUGH CAMPBELL HUME.

power was upon hiiu ; and, being excluded, he, together with the dukes of
Hamilton, Queensberry, and IMontrose, the enri of Stair, and other Scottish
noblemen, entered into a concert with the leading English members of the op-
position, in order to bring tlie machinations unsparingly used to control the elec-
tion of the peers in Scotland, to light, and their authors to punishment. Sir
Robert Waipole's better fortune, hoAvevcr, prevailed against it, as it did against a
similar project in 173!l." The earl of Manhmont died in January, 1740, and
was succeeded by his eldest surviving son Hugh, who was destined to exhibit
the extraordinary spectacle of a family, mnintainin"-, in the third generation, the
same talent, iudgment, and worth which had distinguished the txvo preceding.

Hume, Hucsh Campbell, third and last earl of IMarclimont, was born at Edin-
burgh on the 15th Eebruary, 1708, and soon became remarkable for the preco-
city of his intellect, and the versatility of his genius. His mind was equally directed
to the acquisition of scholastic erudition and political knowledge, and on all sub-
jects he was supposed to be excelled by few or none of his time. In 1734, when
only twenty-six years of age, he was chosen member for the county of Berwick,
and entered the House of Commons as lord Polwarth, at the same time that his
younger and twin brother, 3Ir Hume Campbell, <"aiue forward as representative
for the burghs of the district. The injustice and neglect which Sir Robert Walpole
had sho\\n to lord 3Iarchmont, was speedily avenged by the trouble which these
young men gave to his government The former soon attained the first place
in the opposition ; and how keenly his attacks «ere felt by the ministry is
shown in a remark made by the latter pei-son, to the effect that '* there were few
things he more ardently desired than to see tliat young man at the head of his
family,'* and thus deprived of a seat in the house. This wisli was soon gratified,
for his father dying in 1740, lord Polwarth succeeded as earl of 3Iarchmoiit,
nor did he again enter tiie walls of parliament until the year 1750, \\hen a
vacancy occurring in the representation of the Scottish peerage, he was almost
unanimously elected. Erom his talents as a speaker, his extensive information,
and active business habits, he acquired great influence in the upper house, and
was constantly re-chosen at every general election, during the long period of
34 years. He Avas appointed first lord of police in 1747, and keeper of the
great seal of Scotland, in January, 1764, the latter of which he held till his
deatli. The estimation in which his lordship was held by his contemporaries
may be judge<l of by the circumstance of his living on terms of the strictest
intimacy with the celebrated lord Cobliam, (who gave his bust a place in the
Temple of Worthies at Stow,) Sir William Wyndhani, lord Bolingbroke, the
duchess of 3Iarlborough, Mr Pope, and other eminent persons of that memorable
era. The duchess appointed him one of her executors, and bequeathed him a
legacy of .€2,500 for his trouble, and as a proof of her esteem. IMr Pope like-
wise aj>pointed him one of his executors, leaving him a large-paper edition of
Thuanus, and a portrait of loi-d Bolingbroke, painted by Richardson. The poet
likewise immortalized him, by introducing his name into the well-known inscrip-
tion in the Twickenham gi-otto : —

" Then the blight flame was shot through Marchmont's soul !"

His lordship's library contiiined one of the most curious and valuable collections
of books and manuscripts in (ireat Britain ; all of which he bequeathed at his
death to iiis sole executor, the right honourable tieorge Rose.

His lordship was twice married; first, in 1731, to 3Iiss Western of London,
by whom lie had four children, a son (who died young), and three daughters;
the youngest of whom was afterwards married to Walter Scott, Esq. of Harden.
Upon the death of his wife, in 1747, he next year married a Miss Elizabetii

HUGH CAMPBELL HUME. 143

Crompton, whose father was a linen draper in Cheapside, by whom he had one
son, Alexander, lord Tolwarth, uho died without issue, in the 31st year of his
age. The circumstances attending- this second marriage were very peiniliar, and
his lordship's conduct on the r.ccasion, seems altogetlier so much at variance with
his general character, as well as with one in liis rank and circumstances in life,
that we reckon them worthy of being recorded here ; — and in doing so, we think
we cannot do better tlian adopt the account of them given by tlie celebrated
David Hume, in a familiar epistle to the late IMr Oswahl of Dunniiiicp, and pub-
lished in the latter gentleman's correspondence. The letter is dated, London,
January 29lh, 174H : — " Lord 31arcInnont has had tlie most extraordinary
adventuie in the world. About three weeks ago, lie was at the play, when ho
espied in one of the boxes a fair virgin, Mhose looks, airs, and manners, had
sucli a powerful and wonderful etiect upon him, as was visible by every by-stander.
His raptures were so undisguised, his looks so expressive of passion, his inquiries
so earnest, that every pei'son took notice of it. He soon was told that her name
was Crompton, a linen draper's daughter, tliat had been bankrupt last year, and
had not been able to pay above five shillings in the pound. '1 be fair nymph
herself was about sixteen or seventeen, and being supported by some relations,
appeared in every public place, and had fatigued every eye but that of his lortl-
sJiip, which, being entirely employed in the severer studies, had )iever till that
fatal moment opened upon her charms. Such and so powerful was their effect,
as to be able to justify all the Pharamonds and Cyrusses in their utmost extrava-
gancies. He wrote next morning to her father, desiring to visit his daughter on
honourable terms : and in a few days she will be the countess of IMarchmont.
All this is certainly true. They say many small fevers prevent a great one.
Heaven be praised that I have always liked the persons and company of the
fair sex! for by that means I hope to escape such ridiculous passions. But
could you ever suspect the ambitious, the severe, the bustling, the impetuous,
the violent IMarchmont, of becoming so tender and gentle a swain — an Arta-
nienes — an Oroondates ! "

His lordship died at his seat, at Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, on the
lOth of January, 1794, and leaving no heirs male, all the titles of the family
became extinct; but his estate descended to his three daughters. According to
Sir George H. Rose, who, from his i'amily connexion with the earl of IMarchmont,
had the best means of knowing, this nobleman " was an accomplished and scientific
horseman, and a theoretical and practical husbandman and gardener. He
pursued his rides and visits to his farm and garden as long as his slrenglh
would suffice for the exertion ; and some hours of the forenoon, and frequently
of the evening, were dedicated to his books. His most favourite studies appear
to iiave been in the civil law, and in the laws of England and Scotland, in the
records and history of the European nations, and in an(;ient history ; and the
traces of them are very unequivo<;al. 'Ihe fruits of his labours in extracts,
observations, comparisons, and researches, all made in his own hand-writing,
are not more to be admired than wondered at, as the result of the industry of
one who was stimulated neither by poverty nor by eagerness for literary cele-
brity. His Dutch education had given him method, which was tlie best possible
auxiliary to an ardent and powerful mind, su(;h as his was."

In the publication which we have entitled the 31ar(;hmont Papers, are many
of earl Hugh, of which the most important feature is a diary, which he kept
during three different periods of peculiar interest in the reign of (ieorge the
Second. The first extends from the latter end of July, 1744, to the end of
that year, and embraces the events which led to the formation of what was called
the Broad Bottom Administration, when lord Carteret, who just then became earl

144 rATlllCK HUME.— DR. HENltY HUNTER,

of tiraiiville, uas compelled to retire by tlie Pellianis, tlie kinofconseiitinw- (liereto
very reliictiiiitly, and \\lien the dtiltes of Devoiisliire, IJedfoid, aiul Dorset, and
the earls of Harrington and Cliesterfield, came into office. 'Hie second j)eriod
Itegins in Sej)teiuber, 17'i5, wlien news had just been received in London tiiat
the I'retender was near lulinburgh, and tliat it would probably be soon in his
occupation. It closes in tlie February following, with the extraordinary events
of that month, the resignation of the I'elhani ministry, and its re-establishment
after the earl of I'ath's and the earl of tiranville's interregnum of three days.
The third period comnienc^cs in July, 1747, and terminates in Blarch, 1748,
soon at"ter the earl of Chesterfield's resignation, and the duke of Bedford's
appointment t<» succeed him as secretary of state.

1IU31E, Patrick, is noticed by various writers as the name of an individual
Mho adorned tiie literature of his country at the close of the seventeenth cen-
tury. Who or what he was, is not known : it is only probable, from the regu-
larity with which certain first names oc^;ur in genealogies in connexion uith sur-
names, that he belonged to the Polwarth branch of the family of Home, or Hume,
as in that bran<!h there were six or seven successive barons bearing the name of
Patrick. This learned man is only known to have written the notes connected
with the sixth edition of Milton's Paradise Lost, uhich was published in folio
by Tonson in IG95, and is one of the most elegant ])roductions of the l?ritish
press that have ever api)eared. It has been a matter of just surprise to
several writers of Scottish biography, that absolutely notiiing should have been
handed down respecting this person, seeing that his notes evince a high degree
of taste, and most extensive erudition, and are in fact the model of almost ail
commentaries sid)sequent to his time. *' His notes," says an anonymous writer,'
"are always curious; his observations on some of the finer passages of the poet,
show a mind deeply smit with an admiration for the sublime genius of their au-
thor ; and there is often a masterly nervousness in his style, which is very re-
markable for this age." Kut the ignorance of subsequent ages respecting
the learned commentator is sufficiently accounted for by the way in >vhicl) his name
appears on the title-page, being simply in initials, Avith the aflix ((,i'hc7roir,Tyig,
and by the indifierence of the age to literary history. It would appear that the
commentary, learned and admirable as it is, speedily fell out of public notice,
as in 1750, the Messrs Foulis of (ilasgow published the first book of the
Paradise Lost, with notes by Mr Callender of (Jraigforth, which are shown to
be, to a great extent, borrowed from the work of Hiuue, without the most dis-
tant hint of acknowledgment.

HUNTER, (Ur) Hbnkt, a divine highly distinguished in literature, Mas born
at Culross, in the year 1741. His parents, though in bumble life, gave him a
good education, which was concluded by an attendance at tlie university of
Edinburgh. Here his talents and application attracted the notice of the profes-
sors, and at the early ;ige of seventeen he was appointed tutor to Mr Alexander
Boswell, who subsequently became a judge of the court of session, under the
designation of lord IJalmouto. He afterwards accepted the same office in the
family of the earl of Uundonald at Culross abbey, and thus had the honour of
instructing the late venerable earl, so distinguished by his scientific inquiries and
inventions. In 1764, having passed the necessary trials with unusual approba-
tion, he was licensed as a minister of the gospel, and soon excited attention to
his pulpit talents. So highly were these in public esteem, that, in 17()(j, lie
Mas ordained one of the ministers of South Leith, which has always been con-

' Klackwood's IMiigftzinc, iv. 662, wliere there is aseriisof extracts from Hume's Com-
mentary, in contiast v\illi similar passages fioiii tiial publislied by l\lr Callender of (jraig-
forth.

DR. HENRY HUNTER. 145

sidered as one of the most respectable appointments in the Scottish church. He
iiad here ingratiated himself in an unconunon degree \vith his congregation,
uhen a visit to London, in 17fi9, opened up to his ambition a still wider field
of usefulness. The sermons which he happened to deliver on this ocr^asion in
several of the Scottish meeting-houses, drew much attention, and the result was
an invitation, which reached him soon after his return, to become minister ol
the chapel in Swallow Street. This he declined ; but in 177 1 , a call from the
London Wall congregation tempted hini away from his Scottish flock, who
manifested the sincerest sorrow at his departure. This translation not only was
an advancement in his profession, but it paved the way for a series of literary
exertions, upon which his fame was ultimately to rest. Several single sermons
first introduced him to the world as an author. These were on the ordination
of O. Nicholson, IM. A., 1775, 2 Cor. iv 7, 8 ; On the study of the Sacred
Scriptures, Acts xviii. 11, in the work called the Scottish Preacher, vol. iv. ; at
the funeral of the Rev. George Turnbull, 1783 ; On the opening of a meeting-
house at Walthamstow, in 1787, Uev. xxi. 3, 4; On the Revolution, 1788;
The Reliever's Joy, Acts viii. 39 ; also in the fourth volume of the Scottish
Preacher. Tiiese sermons, with some miscellaneous pieces, were collected and
published, in two volumes, after the author's death. Dr Hunter first appeared
as a general writer in 1783, when he published the first volumes of his " Sacred
Biography, or the history of the Patriarclus and of Jesus Christ," which was ulti-
mately extended to seven volumes, and has become a standard work, the seventh
edition having appeared in 1814. Before this work Avas completed, the notice
attracted by the system of Lavater throughout civilized Europe, tempted him to
engage in an English version of the " Physiognomy" of that philosopher, whom
he previously visited at his residence in Switzerland, in order to obtain from the
conversation of the learned man himself, as perfect an idea as possible of his
particular doctrines. It is said that Lavater at first displayed an unexpected
coolness on the subject of Dr Hunter's visit, being afraid that an English
translation might injure the sale of the French edition, in which he had a
pecuniary interest. This, however, seems to have been got over; for Lavater
eventually ti-eated his English visitor in a manner highly agTeeable. " As their
professions were alike,'' says an anonymous writer, ** so their sentiments, their
feelings, and their opinions, are altogether alike. A complete acquaintance
with the French language enabled Dr Hunter to enjoy Lavater's conversation
freely ; and he ever afterwards talked with enthusiasm of the simplicity of
manners, the unaffected piety, the unbounded benevolence, and the penetrating
genius, of this valued friend. The bare mention of that barbarous cruelty which
massacred the virtuous Lavater, was suflicient to make him shrink back with
hoi-ror." — The first number of this work was published in 1789, and it was not
completed till nine years after, when it ultimately formed five volumes, in quarto,
bearing the title of " Essays on Physiognomy, designed to promote the know-
ledge and love of mankind, by John Caspar Lavater.'' Dr Hunter's abilities as
a translator were of the first order, and, in this instance, drew forth the entire
approbation of the original author. The work was, moreover, embellished in a
style, which, at that time, might be considered as unrivaled. It contained
above eight hundred engravings, executed by and under the direction of Mr
Holloway, and such was altogether the elaborate elegance of the publiciition,
that it could not be sold to the public under thirty pounds per copy. We are
only left to regret that so nui<;h talent, so much taste, and such a large sinu of
money as tiiis price would indicate, should have been spent upon an inquiry
which the acute and precise sense of the innuediately succeeding generation has
pronounced to be in a great measure a delusion.

146 DR. HENRY HUNTER.

At the time of the French revolution, Dr Hunter republished a treatise by
Robert Fleming, whose life, with an account of the uork in question, has
already been given in tliis J5iograplii<al Uiclionary. Ihe pamphlet contained
some proplietit^il inlimalions, ^vili^;il Ur Hunter supposed to bear a reference to
the events in llic ncigliboiiriiig kingdom. It is needless to remark the weakness
which alone could dictate such a proceeding in this generally able and enlight-
ened man. Ur Hunter also published a " Sermon preached, February 3, ITiJS,
on the execution of Louis XVI."

In 17!)5, he attempted a translation from the German, selecting for this pur-
pose Euler's celebrated " Letters to a German princess." Ihis work met with
the entire ai>probalion of the public, and has proved a very useful addition to
the stock of our native scientiiic literature. The first edition was in quarto, and
a second, in octavo, appeared in 1802. The work has since been reprinted in
a smaller si'^e, with notes by Sir David Brewster. Ihe merit of Dr Hunter as
a translator \»as now universally acknowledged, and work accordingly pressed
upon him. While still engaged in his version of Lavater, he commenced, in
1796, the publisiiing of a translation of St Pierre's Studies of Nature, which was
completed in 179!), in five volumes octavo, afterwards republished in three.
" His translation," says the anonymous writer above quoted, " of the beautiful
and enthusiastic works of St Pierre, was universally read and admired ; here, if
in any instance, the translator entered into the spirit of the author, for the glow
of benevolence which gives life to every page of ' Les Ftudes de la Nature' was
entirely congenial to the feelings of Dr Hunter." Saurin's Sermons, and Son-
nini's Travels to Upper and Lower Egypt, complete the list of Dr Hunter's
labours as a translator ; and it is but small praise to say, that few men have
reached the same degree of excellence in that important branch of literature.
Duiing the progress of other laboui-s, Dr Hunter published more than one
volume of original sermons, and a volume entitled " Lectures on the Evidences
of Christianity," being the completion of a plan begun by the l\ev. John Fell.
He also connuenced the publication, in parts, of a popular " History of London
and its Environs," which, however, he did not live to complete.

In the year 1790, Dr Hunter was appointed secretary to the corresponding
board of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge in the Highlands and
Islands of Scotland. He was likewise chaplain to the Scots corporation in Lon-
don, and both these institutions were much benefited by his zealous exertions in
their behalf. It must be obvious from the frequent and involved succession of
his literary productions, that Dr Hunter spent a most industrious life, and was
upon the whole the most busy as he approached that stage of existence when the
generality of men begin to find ease not only agreeable but necessary. It is
probable that this unceasing exertion, which no doubt was more occasioned by
necessity than by choice, tended to break down his constitution, which was fur-
ther weakened in his latter years by the agitation and distress of mind conse-
quent on the death of three beloved children. Having retired to Bristol wells
for the recovery of his health, he died there, of inflanunation in the lungs, Oc-
tober 27, 1S02, in the sixty-second year of his age.

" If Dr Hunter," says his anonymous biographer,* " was conspicuous as an
author, he was still more to be admired as a man. An unbounded flow of bene-
volence, which made him enjoy and give enjoyment to every society, joined to a
warmth of feeling, which made him take an interest in every occmrence, ren-
dered him the delight of all his acquaintance. His social talents were of the
highest order. An easy flow of conversation, never loud, never overbearing,
and completely free from affectation ; an inexhaustible fund of pleasant anec-
2 Obituary of Gentk-niau's Mag;izine, fxxii. 107<J.

)AILLIAM HUNTER. 147

dotes and occasional flashes of wit and humour, made every company he joined
pleased >vith liim and whh themselves. He >vas particularly happy in adapting
his conversation to those he conversed ^\hh ; and ^vhile to a lady his discourse
appeared that of a polished geiillenian, the scholar \\as surprised by his apt
quotations from the classics, and the ease with which he turned to any subject
that was brought before him. * * His private charities were as numerous
as the objects of compassion which occurred to him : nor should his unbounded
and cheerful hospitality be lorgot among his other virtues," [He is said to have
carried this virtue beyond tlie bounds which a regard to prudence and economy
should have prescribed.] " The crowded attendance and the universal regret of
his congregation are the best proofs of the eflect of his pulpit eloquence. His
enlightened and liberal views of religion made his meeting-house the resort of
the le^iding Scotsn»en in London : and it was here that the natives of the southern
part of the island had an opportunity of observing a specimen of that church
which produced a Robertson and a Blair. * * Dr Hunter was of a spare
habit of body, and remarkably active ; and his usual cheerfulness and flow of
good humour continued till within a few weeks of his death." He left a family,
consisting of a wife, two sons, and a daughter.

HLNTER, William and John, two eminent physicians, fall to be noticed here
under one head, in order that we may, without violating alphabetical arrange-
ment, give William that priority to which his seniority and precedence in public
life render necessary.

William Hunter was born, May 23, 1718, at Kilbride in the county of
Lanark. His great-grandfather, by his father's side, was a younger son of
Hunter of Hunterston. His father and mother lived on a small estate in the
above county, called Calderwood, which had been some time in the possession
of their family. They had ten children, of whom the subject of our present
memoir was the seventh, while John was the tenth. One of his sisters married
the reverend James Baillie, professor of divinity in the university of Glasgow,
and became the mother of 31atthew Baillie, the late celebrated physician, whose
labours in morbid anatomy have been of such essential service in promoting the
study of pathology. William Hunter was sent to the college of Glasgow at the
age of fourteen, where he jmrsued his studies with diligence, and obtained the
esteem of the professors and his fellow students. He was at this time designed
for the church : — but hesitated, from conscientious motives to subscribe all the
articles of its faith. There is perhaps no position so painful as that of a man
whose mind is overshadowed by doubts on doctrinal points of religion, having
firmness in himself to investigate narroA\ly the foundation of the principles he
should embrace, and rectitude enough to acknowledge with candour the difficul-
ties by which lie is embarrassed. Such was the state of mind of William Huntei
when he became acquainted with the eminent Dr CuUen, who was then established
in practice at Hamilton. After much deliberation, under his persuasion,
he determined to relinquish his theological studies, and devote himself exclu-
sively to the profession of medicine. Accordingly, liaving obtained the consent
of his father, in the year 1737, he Avent to reside with Dr Cullen ; in whose
family he lived nearly three years ; a period which afterwards, when he was
engaged in the anxieties and turmoil that are ever attendant on the life of a
medical man, he looked back upon with peculiar pleasure. It was the oasis on
which, in after years, his memory loved to dwell. Between these two gifted
individuals a partnership was now formed, and it was agreed that AN illiam
Hunter should take charge of the surgical, and Dr Cullen of the medical cases
that occurred in their practice. To carrj^ their mutual >\ishes more efficiently
into operation, it was arranged that William Hunter should proceed to Ldiii*

MS WILLIAM HUNTER.

burgh, and then to London, for the purpose of pursuing his medical studies in
each of tliese cities, after wiiicli, tiiat he should return to settle at Hamilton.

In Novenil)er, ITIU, William Hunter went to Edinburgh, wiiere he reuiained
until the following spring, attending the lectures of tlie medical professors there,
among whom he had tlie advantage of attending Dr Alexander 31<inro, who was
one of the most talented and able j>rofessors, who, perhaps, ever adorned that
university. In the suumier of 17 1,1, he proceeded to London, and resided with
3Ir afterwards DrSmallie, then an apothecary in Tall 31all. He took witii him
a letter of introduction from 31r Foulis, tlie printer at Glasgow, to Dr James
Douglas. At first, 3Ir Hunter counnenced the study of anatomy under the
tuition of Dr Frank NichoUs, who was the most eminent tea<,her of anatomy
then in London, and who iiad formerly professed the science at Oxford. It
appears that Dr Douglas had been under some obligation to Mr Foulis, who had
collected for him several editions of Horace, and he natiually, therefore, paid
attention to young Hunter, whom he at once recognized to be an acute and
talented observer. Dr Douglas was at that time intent on .1 great anatomical
work on the bones, which he did not live to complete, and was looking out for
a young man of industry and ability whom he might employ as his dissector.
He soon perceived that his new acquaintance would be an eligible assistant to
him, and after some preliminary conversatiovi invited him into his family, for tlie
double purpose of assisting him with his dissections, and directing the education
of his son. The pecuniary resources of young Hunter were at this time very
slender, and the situation was to him therefore highly advantageous ; but it was
with difficulty that he could obtain the consent of his father for him to accept
it, who being now old and infirm, awaited with impatience his return to Scot-
land. Ultimately, however, he was prevailed on to acquiesce in the wishes of
his son, which he did with reluctance; he did not, however, long survive, as he
died on the 30th of the October follo^ving, aged seventy-eight. JMr Hunter s pre-
vious arrangements with Dr CuUen formed no obstacle to his new views ; for lie had
no sooner explained his position, than Dr Cullen, anxious for his advancement,
readily canceled the articles of agreement, and left his friend to pursue the
path which promised to lead him to fame and to fortune. At liberty now to
take advantage of all the means of instruction by which he was surrounded,
he pursued his studies with assiduity. By the friendly assistance of Dr Douglas
he was enabled to enter himself as a surgeon's pupil at St George's hospital,
under Mr .lames Wilkie, and as dissecting pupil under Mr Frank Nicholis. He
also attended a course of experimental philosophy, which was delivered by
Desauguliers. He soon became very expert as a dissector, insomuch that Dr
Douglas went to the expense of having several of his preparations engraved.
But he did not enjoy his liberal patronage and aid long, for many months
had not elapsed when his kind benefactor died, an event which happened
April 1, 1742, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. Dr Douglas left a
widow and two children ; — but his death made no alteration in respect to Mr
Hunter, uho continued as before to reside in his family, and perform the same
duties which he had previously done.

In the year 17 13, the first production from the pen of Mr Hunter was com-
municated to the lioyal Society. It was an " I'Jssay on the Structure and
Diseases of Articulating Cartilages," a subject which had not been at that time
sufticiently investigated, and on which his observations threw considerable light.
His favourite scheme was now to conmience as a lecturer on anatomy ; — but he
did not rashly enter on this undertaking, but passed some years more in acquir-
ing tlie necessary knowledge, and in making the numerous preparations which
are necessary to exhibit in a complete course of anatomy. There is, perhaps,

TN'ILLIAM HUNTER. 149

no branch of medical science which demands more patient and assiduous toil than
this ; it was more especially so at that period, when there were few aids to
anatoniiral knowledge. He communicated his project to Ur NichoUs, who had
declined lecturing, in favour of Ur La^\rence, who gave him little encour-
agement, and he retired, as many others similarly situated have done, to meditate
on his own secret hopes, and to await a fit opportunity for conmiencing his
designs. It thus happens in the lives of many young men, that wiser heads
caution them against embarking in schemes they have long cherished, and in
which, after all, they are destined to be successful. The ardour and persever-
ance of youth often accomplish undertakings «hich appear ^\iId and romantic
to the sterner and colder judgment of the aged. 'I'o William Hunter the
wished-for opjiortunity soon occurred, whereby he was enabled to put his plans
to the test of experience. A society of navy surgeons at that time existed,
which occupied rooms in Covent Garden, and to this society 3Ir Samuel Sharpe
had been engaged as a lecturer on the operations of surgerj'. This course Mr
Sharpe continued to repeat, until findinof that it interfered too much «ith his other
engagements ; he resigned in favour of William Hunter, who gave his first
anatomical course in the winter of 1746. It is said that when he fii-st began to^
speak in public he experienced much solicitude ; but the applause he met with
inspired him with that confidence which is so essential an element of all good
oratory. Indeed, he gradually became so fond of teaching, that some few years
before his death, he acknowledged that he was never happier than when engaged
in lecturing. The profits of the first two courses were considerable : but having
with much generosity contributed to supply the pecuniary wants of his friends,
he found himself so reduced on the return of the next season, that he was
obliged to postpone his lectures, because he had not money to defray the
necessary expenses of advertising. An anecdote is mentioned by his biographel
Symmons, very characteristic of the early difficulties which are experienced by-
many men of genius. 31r Watson, one of his earliest pupils, accompanied him
home after his next introductory lecture. He had just received seventy guineas
for admission fees, which he carried in a bag under his cloak, and observed to
his friend, " that it was a larger sum than he had ever been master of before."
His previous experience now taught him more circumspection ; — he became
more cautious of lending money, and by strict economy amassed that great
fortune, which he afterwards so liberally devoted to the interests of science.
His success as a lecturer before the society of navy surgeons was so decided, that
its members requested him to extend his course to anatomy, and gave him the
free use of their room for his lectures. This compliment he could not fail to
have duly appreciated, and it may be regarded as the precursory sign of that
brilliant career which he was soon afterwards destined to pursue.

In the year 1747, he was admitted a member of the Incorporation of Sur-
geons, and after the close of his lectures in the spring of the following year, he
set out with his pupil, 3Ir James Douglas, on a tour through Holland and Paris.
At Leyden, he visited the illustrious Albinus, whose admirable injections inspired
him with the zeal to excel in this useful department of anatomy. Having made
this tour, he returned to prepare his winter course of lectures, which he com-
menced at the usual time.

3Ir Hunter at this time practised surgery as well as midwifery ; but the
former branch of the profession he alwa\s disliked. His patron, Ur Uouglas,
had acquired consideralde reputation as an accoucheur, and this probably in-
duced him to direct his views to this line of practice. Besides this, an ad-
ditional inducement presented itself, in the circumstance of his being elected
one of the surgeon accoucheurs to the Middlesex hospital, and afterwards to tiie

150 -WILLIAM HUNTER.

British Lying-in lloopiUl. The introduction of male practitioners in this de-
partment of tiie profession, according to Astnic, took place on the confine-
ment of niadaiiie la \'alliere in 16tJ3. She was anxious tor concealment, and
called in Julian (jlement, an eminent surgeon, who was secretly conducted into
the liouse where she lay, covering her face with a hood, and where the hing is
said to have hcen hidden heiiind tlie curtains. He attended her in lier
suhso(juent accouchments, and his success soon hrought the <;lass of male practi-
tionei-s into fashion. Nor was this a matter of minor import, for hereby the
mortality among Iving-in women has been materially reduced. 3Io\\bray is
said to have been the first lecturer on obstetrics in London, and he delivered
his coui-se of lectures in the year 17-25. To him succeeded tlie Chamberlains,
after whom, Smellie gave a new air of importance and dignity to the science.
It is said that the manners of Smellie were by no means prepossessing — indeed
they are described to have been unpleasing and rough ; therefore, although a
man of superior talent^ he necessarily found a vlifliculty in making his way
among the refined and the more polished circles of si^ciety. Herein, Hunter had
a decided advantage, for while he was recognized to be a man of superior
abilities, his manners and address were extremely conciliating and engaging.
'Hie most luci-ativo part of the pi'aclice of midwifery was at this time divided be-
tween Sir Richard ^Alanningham and Dr Sandys ; — the former of whom died,
and the latter retired into the country just after I\Ir Hunter became kno\vn as
an .Tccouclieur.

Ihe field was now in a great measui-e left open to him, and in proportion as
his reputation increased, he became more extensively consulted. His predecessor
Ur Sandys, had been formerly professor of anatomy at Cambridge, where he
had formed a valuable collection of preparations, which on his death having fal-
len into the hands of Dr Uloomfield, was now purchased by IMr Hunter for the
sum of £200. There can be no doubt that the celebrity of IMr Hunter as an
anatomist contributed to increase his practice as an accoucheia-, as it was
reasonably expected that his minute knowledge of anatomy would give him a
correspondingly great connnand in diflicult and dangerous cases. Acting now
principally as an accoucheur, he appears to have entirely relinquished the sur-
gical department of his profession ; and desirous of practising as a physician,
obtained in 1750, the degree of doctor of medicine from the university of
Glasgow. The degree of doctor of medicine at that and other universities of
Scotland, was at this period granted, on the candidate's paying a <;ertain sum
of money and presenting a certifnxite from other doctors of medicine of his
being cpialified to practise the healing art— but so nmch was the facility of ob-
taining these degrees abused that this method of granting them has been very
properly abolished. Shortly after obtaining his diploma, Dr Hunter left the
fiimily of 3Ir Douglas, and went to reside in Jermyn Street, Soho Square.

The folhuving summer he revisited his native country, for which, amidst the
professional prosperity of a to\\n life, he continued to entertain a cordial af-
fection. He found on his arrival that his mother was still living at Long Cal-
derwood, Avhich Avas now become his own property, in consequen(;e of the death
of his brother James, who died in the 28lh year of his age. It is worthy of
notice, tiiat this young man had been a writer to the signet in Edinburgli ; but
disliking the profession of the law, he went to London, with the intention of
studying anatomy under his brother William — so that it would almost appear,
tliat in the family of tlie Hunters there was an hereditary love for medical
science. Ill health, however, which bows down the intellectual power of the
strongest of mankind, preyed upon his constitution ; so that he could not carry
his plans into execution, and he therefore returned to his birth place, where

WILLIAM HUNTER. 151

he died. At this period, Dr Ciillen was progressing to that fame which he
subsequently attained ; and was residing- at Glasgow, where Or Hunter again
met him, to take a retrospect over the eventful changes which liad signalized
tlie progress of their sej>arate lives. Su(;!i a meeting could not, under the
peculiar circumstances, fail to be interesting to both ; for there scarcely can
be any gratification superior to that of meeting in after life, llie friend of
early youth, pursuing successfully tiie career \vhicii at one time was commenced
together, and who is still opening up the paths to new discoveries, in which
both sympathize and delight, while, at the same time, the same sentiment?
of personal friendship remain undiminished in all tlieir original strength and
sincerity.

On the return of Dr Hunter to London, he continued corresponding with Dr
CuUen on a variety of interesting scientific subjects, and many of the letters
have been recently published by Ur Thomson, in his life of this eminent physi-
cian, a work which should be familiar to all who take any interest in tiie history
of luedical science.

On the return of Dr Hunter to London, on the resignation of Dr Layard, who
hatl officiated as one of the piiysicians to the British Lying-in Hospital, we find
the governors of tliat institution voting their " thanks to Dr Hunter for the ser-
vices he had done the hospital, and for his (;ontinuance in it as one of the physi-
cians." Accordingly he was established in this office without the usual form of
an election. He was admitted in the following year licentiate of the Royal College
of Physicians, and was soon after elected a member of tlie Bledical Society. His
history of an aneurism of tlie aorta appears in the first volume of tiieir ** Ob-
servations and Enquiries," publisiied in 1757. In 1762, we find him in the
" .Medical Commentaries," supporting his claim of priority in making numerous
anatomical discoveries over that of Ur IMonro Secundus, at that time professor of
anatomy in the university of Edinburgh. It is not easy to adjust the claims of
contemporary discoverers in numerous branches of science ; and though, on this
occasion, a wordy war of considerable length was waged concerning the real au-
thor of the great doctrine of the absorbent action of the lymphatic s\stem, yet
the disputants seem to Iwive left the held, each dissatisfied with the conduct of his
antagonist, and each equally confident of being entitled to the honour of being
regarded as the real discoverer. It is not worih while to rake up the ashes of
any such controversy ; but it is no more than justice to assert, that Dr Hunter
vindicated his claims in a manly and honourable tone, at the same time acknow-
ledging that *' the subject was an unpleasant one, and lie was therefore seldom
in the humour to take it up."

In 1762, when the queen became pregnant, Dr William Hunter was consult-
ed, and two years afterwards had the honour to be appointed physician extra-
ordinary to her majesty. \Ve may now regard him as having attained the
highest rank in his profession ; and avocations necessarily increasing very consi-
derably, he found himself under the necessity of taking an assistant, to relieve
him from the fatigues to which he was now subjected. Accordingly he selected
31r Hewson, an industrious and accomplished young man, to be his assistant, and
afterwards took him into partnership with him in his lectures. This connexion
subsisted until the year 1770, when, in consequence of some misunderstanding,
it was dissolved, and Cruickshank succeeded to the same situation. In iiie year
1767, Dr William Hunter became a fellow of the Royal Society, to which the fol-
lowing year he communi(;ated his observations on the bones, conuuonly supposed
to be elephants' bones, which were found near the river Ohio in America. At this
period the attention of men of si^ience had been directed to the large bones,
tusks, and teeth, which had been found on the banks of the above river, and the

152 WILLIAM HUNTER.

French Academicians came to the conclusion that they were, in all probability,
tiie bones of elepliauts. From the dilferent character of the jaw-bone, and oilier
anatomical signs, Ur William Hunter, however, (%ime to the conclusion that tiiey
did not belong to the elephant, but to an animal incoynilum, probably the same
as the niammotii of Siberia.'' Nor was this the only subject of natural history on
which l)r Hunter exercised his ingenuity, for in a subsequent voluuie of the
transactions, we find him otfering his remarks on some bones found in the rock
of Gibraltar, which he proves to have belonged to some quadruped. Further,
we find an account published by him of the Nylghau, an Indian animal not be-
fore described. Thus, amidst the anxious duties of that department of the pro-
fession in which he excelled, we find his active mind leading him into investiga-
tions on subjects of natural history, which are eminently interesting to all who
delight in examining into the mysteries, and beauties, and past history of the
surrounding world.

In tiie year 17GS, Dr William Hunter became fellow of the society of arts,
and the same year at the institution of an academy of arts, he was appointed by
his majesty professor of anatomy. His talents were now directed into a new
sphere of action ; in which he engaged with unabated ardour and zeal. He
studied the adaptation of the expression of anatomy to sculpture and paint-
ing, and his observations are said to have been cliaracterized by nmch ori-
ginality and'just critical acumen.

In January, 1781, he was unanimously elected successor to Dr John Fotlier-
gill, as president of the Royal College of Physicians of London, the interests of
which institution he zealously promoted. In 17S0, the Koyal Medical Society
of Paris elected him one of their foreign associates, and in 1782 he received a
similar mark of distinction from the Koyal Academy of Sciences in that city.
Thus, in tracing the life of this eminent physician, we find honour upon honour
conferred upon him, in acknowledgment of the essential services which he ren-
dered to the cause of science. But his cJtef d''uuvre yet remains to be noticed ;
it was consummated in the invaluable " Anatomy of the Human (jravid Uterus,"
one of tiie most splendid medical works of the age in which he lived. It was
commenced in 1751, but not completed until 1775, owing to the author's de-
sire to render it as complete as possible. It contains a series of thirty-four folio
plates, from superior drawings of subjects and preparations, executed by the
first artists, exhibiting all the principal changes which occur during the nine
months of pregnancy. Here we find tiie first representation that was given of
the retroverted uterus, and the membrana decidua reflexa discovered by himself.
He did not live however to complete the anatomical description of the figures,
wtiich his nepliew the late lamented Dr Baillie did in 1794..* lie dedicated
this valuable work to the king ; and it needs only to be added, in testimony of
merit, that notwithstanding the march of medical knowledge, it has not been
superseded by any rival author. It remains now, and will go down to posterity,
as a standard work complete in its designs, and admirable in its execution. But
this was not the only service which Dr William Hunter rendered to tiie profes-
sion : it remains for us yet to record the circumstances under which he founded a
museum which lias justly called forth the aduiiralion of every medical man by
whom it has been visited. When Dr William Hunter began to reap the fruits
of his professional skill and exertions, he determined on laying aside a fund
from which he would derive support, if overtaken by the calamities of sickness,
or the infirmities of age. Tliis he very shortly accomplished ; and it is said,
that on one occasion he stated that having borrowed from this fund a sum to de-

' Philosopliictl Transiictioiis, vol 58.

* Anatoiuicul Description of the Gniviii Utoius ami its contents, 1791'

WILLIAM HUNTER. 153

fray some expenses of his museum, lie felt very much dissatisfied and uneasy un-
til it was replaced. His competency liaving been obtained, and his wealth con-
tinuin!>- to accumulate, he formed a laudable design of founding ,i scliool of
medicine, and for this jMirpose addressed a memorial to Mr (irenville, then
minister, in which he rocjuested the grant of a piece of ground in the Mews for
the site of an anatoiuio^il theatre. He undertook to expend £7000 on the
building, and to endow a professorship of anatomy in perpetuity ; but tiie scheme
did not meet the reception it deserved, and fell to the ground. It is said that
the earl of Shelburne, afterwards in conversation with tlie learned doctor, ex-
pressed his approbation of the design, and desired his name to be put down
as a subscriber for ^1000. But Dr Hunter had now it would appear de-
termined on other arrangements, having purchased a spot of ground in Great
Windmill Street, which he determined to appropriate to the proposed use. He
there built accordingly a house and anatomical theatre, and removed from Jer-
myn Street to these premises in 1770. Medical men engaged in active practice,
wiio have a taste for the study of morbid anatomy, have little difficulty in ob-
taining specimens; and by his own exertions and those of his pupils, many of
whom engaged zealously in the cause, he soon suc<;eeded in bringing together a
vast number of morbid preparations, to augment the number of which he pur-
chased numerous collections that were at various times exposed to sale in London.
The taste for collecting, which all acquire who commence founding a nmseum,
" increased by what it fed on," and he now, in addition to the anatomical spe-
cimens, sought to accumulate fossils, curious books, coins — in short, whatever
might interest either the man of letters, the physician, the naturalist, or
the antiquary. We are informed that in respect to books he became possessed
of" the most magnificent tieasure of Greek and Latin books that has been ac-
cumulated since the days of Mead ;" — furthermore, Mr Combe, a learned friend
of the doctor's, published a description of part of the coins in the collection, un-
der the following title : — " Nunnnorum Veterum Populorum et Urbium qui in
Museo Gulielmi Hunter asservantur, descriplio, figuris illustrata. In the pre-
face to this volume, which is dedicated by Dr William Hunter to her mijosty,
some account is given of the progress of the collection, which had been accumulat-
ing since 1770, at an expense of upwards of .£20,000. In 1781, a valuable
addition to it was received, consisting of shells, corals, and other curious subjects
of natural history, w hich had been collected by the late Dr Fothergill, who gave
directions by his w ill that his collection should be appraised after his deaih, and
that Dr William Hunter sliould have the refusal of it at jCSOO. This was ac-
cordingly done, and Dr Hunter purchased it eventually for £1200. To
complete the history of this museum, we may here add, that on the death of
Dr William Hunter, he bequeathed it, under the direction of trustees, for
the use of his nephew Dr Matthew Baillie, and in case of his death to Blr
('ruickshank, for the term of thirty years, at the expiration of «hich it was to
be transmitted to the university of (ilasgow. The sum of £8000 was further-
more left as a fund for the support and augmentation of the collection, and each
of the trustees was left £20 per annum for the term of thirty years — that is, during
the period that they would be executing the purposes of the will. Before the ex-
piration of the period assigned, Dr Baillie removed the museum to Glasgow, where
it at present is visited by all who take an interest in medical or general science.
We have followed Dr William Hunter through the chief and most re-
markable events by which his life Avas characterized, and now i>ausing to
contemplate his having arrived at the summit of his ambition, — honoured by
the esteem of his sovereign, complimented by foreign academies, and con-
sulted by persons of ail ranks — with an independence of wealth which left

154: WILLIAM HUNTER.

him no desires for further accumulation of riciies — we must ncknowletlge that
tlie cup of human enjoyment, while it mantles to tlie brim, must still contain
some bitter tlrop — tiint iliere is in iliis world no liappiiiess without alloy. Ill
health now prejed, with all its cankering evils, uj>on his constitution, and he
meditated, indeed seriously made up his mind, to retire from tlie scenes
of his former activity to his native country, where he might look back
upon the vista of liis past life and die in peace. With this view he requested
his friends Ur Cullen and Dr Baillie to look out for a pleasant estate for
him, which they did, and fixed on a spot in Annandale, which they recom-
mended him to purchase. The bargain was agreed on, at least so it was con-
cluded, but when the title deeds were submitted to examination they were found
to be delective — and accordingly the whole project fell to the ground, for
although harassed by ill health, Dr Hunter found that the expenses to
support the museum were so enormous, that he preferred still remaining in his
practice. He was at this time, dreadfully afflicted with gout, which at one time
affected his limbs, at another his stomach, but seldom remained in one part
many hours. Yet, notwithstanding this, his ardour and activity remained un-
abated ; — but at length he could no longer baffle the destroying power which
preyed upon his being. The attacks became more frequent, and on Saturday,
fllarch 15, 1783, after having for several days experienced a return of wander-
ing gout, he complained of great headache and nausea, in which state he retired
to bed, and felt for many days more pain than usual, both in his stomach and
limbs. On the Thursday following, he found himself so much recovered, that he
determined to give the introductory lecture to the operations of surgery, and it
was to no purpose that his friends urged on him the impropriety of the attempt.
Accordingly he delivered the lecture, but towards the conclusion, his strength
became so much exhausted that he fainted, and was obliged to be carried by his
servants out of the lecture room. We now approach the death-bed scene of this
eminent man, and surely there can be no spectacle of deeper or more solemn
interest than that presented by the dissolution of a man, who adorned by intel-
lectual energy and power, the path which it was in this life his destiny to tread.
'Ihe night after the delivery of the above lecture, and the following day, his
symptoms became aggravated, and on Saturday morning he informed his midical
iidviser, i\Ir Combe, that he had during the night had a paralytic stroke. As
neither his speech nor his pulse were aflected, and as he was able to raise him-
self in bed, i\lr Combe was in hopes that his patient was mistaken ; but the
symptoms that supervened indicated that the nerves which arise iu the lumbar
region had become paralyzed ; for the organs to which they are distributed, lost
the power of performing their functions. Accordingly he lingered with the
symptoms, which in all similar c^ses exist, until Sunday the 30th March, when
he expired. During his last moments he maintained very great fortitude and
calnmess, and it is reported that shortly before his death, he said, turning round
to Mr Combe, " If 1 had strength enough to hold a pen 1 would write how easy
and pleasant a thing it is to die." Such a sentiment as this, breathed by one
under the innnediate dominion of death, strikes us with peculiar wonder and awe,
for it is seldom in such an hour that suffering humanity can command such
stoical complacency. During the latter part of his illness, his brother John —
with whom he had previously been on unfriendly terms- — requested permission to
attend him, and felt severely the parting scene. His remains were interred on
the 5th A[(ril, in the rector's vault of St James's church, \\ estminster.

The lives of all eminent men may be viewed in a double relation, — they may
be contemplated simply with a reference to their professional and public career
— or they may be viewed in connexion with the character they have dis-

WILLIAM HUNTER. 155

played in the retired paths of domestic lit'o. It would appear that Dr Hunter
devoted liiniself exclusively to the pursuits of his profession ; nor did he contract

any tie of a gentler and more endearinir nature to bind him to the world His

habits uere temperate and frugal. When he invited friends to dine uith him
he seldom regaled them with more than two dishes, and he was often heard to
say, that " a man who cannot dine on one dish deserves to have no dinner."
After the repast, tlie servant handed round a single glass of wine to each of his
guests; which IriHes show the economical disposition he possessed, and which
enabled him to realize £70,000 for tiie purpose of completing- a museum for the
benefit of posterity. He was an early riser, and after his professional visits was
to be found always occupied in his museum. He was in person "regularly
shaped, but of slender make, and rather below the middle stature." Tliere are
several good portraits of him, one of which is an u.iJtiiiished painting by 'lolfany,
which represents him in the act of giving a lecture on the nnis«;les at the royal
academy surrounded by a group of academicians. Another by Sir .loshua Rey-
nolds, and of which a correct and elegant fac-simile is given in connexion Avilh
the present work, is preserved in the Hunterian Museum at Glasgow.

The professional character of Dr Hunter is deservedly held high in the estima-
tion of all who are acquainted with the history of medicine. His anatomy of
the Gravid Uterus is alone a monument of his ability ; but, besides this,
he made discoveries for which his name deserves the hi.ghest possible respect.
His claims to being the discoverer of the origin and use of the lymphatic vessels
were, it is true, warmly contested ; but many who have taken pains to examine
the merits of the controversy, among whom we may mention the celebrated
Blumenbach, agree in awarding- to him the honour of the discovery. He had
the merit also of first describing the varicose aneurism, which he did in the Ob-
servations and Inquiries published by the Medical Society of London. His dis-
covery and delineation of the niembrana decidua reflexa in the retroverted
uterus, deserves also honourable mention ; in short, both the sciences of
anatomy and midwifery were materially advanced by his labours. He was a
good orator, and an able and clear lecturer ; indeed the extent of his knowledge,
more especially in physiology, enabled him to throw a charm of interest over the
dry details of descriptive anatomy. His general knowledge was, as we have
seen, very extensive ; and his name and talents Avere respected in e\ery part of
Europe. Among the IMSS. which he left behind him, were found the commence-
ment of a work on biliary and urinary concretions, and two introductory lec-
tures, one of which contains the history of anatomy from the earliest period
down to the time when he wrote ; also, considerations on the immediate con-
nexion of that science with the practice of physic and surgery. Among other
of his works, which are highly esteemed by the profession, we may notice his
*' Essay on the Origin of the Venereal Disease," which he (;ommunicated to the
Royal Society ; and also his " Reflections on the Sympliisis Pubis."

By his will Dr Hunter bequeathed an annuity of £100 to his sister, Mrs
Baillie, during her life, and the sum of £2000 to each of her daughters. The
residue of his estate and effects went to his nephew.

We may conclude our memoir of this eminent physician by relating the fol-
lowing anecdote, which is said to have occurred in his visit to Scotland, before
he had acquired the celebrity he so earnestly desired. As he and Dr C'ullen were
riding one day in a low part of the country, the latter pointed out to him his
native place. Long Calderwood, at a considerable distance, and remarked how
conspicuous it appeared. " Well," said he, with some degree of energy, " if I
live 1 shall make it more conspitnious." We need not !\i\<\ any comment on his
having lived to verify fully this pre<liction. Such are the acJiievements which

156 JOHN HUNTER.

iissidiiity and perseverance are ever enabled to acconiplisli. The moral deducibia
from the lives of all eminent men teaches the same lesson.

John Honteh, younger brother of the preceding, ^vas one of the most profound
anatomists and expert surgeons of the age in «hich he lived. ^^ e have
already seen bow much his brother did to promote the interests of medical
science, and we sliall lind in the sequel, that the subject of our present memoir
accomplishe<l still more, and attained even to a higher and prouder eminence,
insomuch that his name is, as it were, consecrated in the history of his profession,
and respe<;ted and esieemed by all who are in the slightest degree acquainted
with the science. The exact date of his birth has been a subject of some dispute :

by Sir Everard Home it is placed in July 14, 172S ; and this day has been

celebrated as its anniversary by the College of Surgeons of London ; — Dr Adams,
however, has dated it on the I3lh of February, on the authority of the parish
register shown to him by the Kev. James French, the minister of the parish.
This evidence is sufiiciently satisfactory ; and we, therefore, consider that the
latter is the correct date of his birth. He was, as Ave have already stated,
the youno-est of the family, and born when his father had nearly reached the
age of seventy. Being the youngest, he was a great favourite with both of his
parents; indeed, they allowed him to enjoy witht)ut restraint all the pleasures
and pastimes which are the delight of early life, without imposing on him those
tasks which are essential to an early and good education. Ten years after his
birth his mother was left a widow, and he was then the only son at home, one
or both of his sisters being now married. Herein, therefore, we may find every
apf)logy for the indulgence of his mother, who, doubtless, regarded him with an
eye of no ordinary interest and affection. He was, accordingly, not sent to
scliool until he had arrived at the age of seventeen, when he was placed at a
grammar school — but not having the patience to apply himself to the cultivation of
languages, and furthermore disliking the restraint to which lie was subjected, he
neglected his studies, and devoted the greater part of his time to country amuse-
ments. Numerous are the instances of men of genius, who, like Hunter,
negle< ted their education in youth ; but who, subsequently, by assiduous appli-
cation and diligence, recovered their lost time, and attained to high eminence.
Sucii was the case with Home Tooke, Dean Swift, and others, whose names are
honourably recorded in the history of literature. Care ought to be taken, how-
ever, to impress it on the minds of youth, that the general rule is otherwise,
and that early application is necessary in by far the majority of cases, to
produce respectable attainments in mature life. About this time, Blr Buchanan,
who had lately come from London to settle at Glasgow as a cabinet-maker, paid his
addresses to Mr Hunter's sister Janet, and having many agreeable qualities she ac-
cepted his offer, and contrary to the advice of her relations, was married to him. Mr
Buchanan was a man of agreeable and fascinating address, and, besides other pleas-
ing and companionable qualities, displayed the accomplishments of a good singer ;
— so that his company was continually in request, and he yielded too freely to the
pleasures and festivities of society. His business being in consequence neglected ,
his circumstances became embarrassed, and John Hunter, who was now seventeen,
went to (jlasgow on a visit to his sister, for whom he had the greatest atlection,
to comfort her in her distress, and endeavour to assist in extricating her husband
from the difficulties in which he was involved, 'there is a report that Mr
Hunter was destined to be a carpenter, and one of his biographers ventures to
affirm that " a wheel-wright or carpenter he certainly was ;" however, the only
ground for such a statement seems to have been, that when orders were pressing
he occasionally did assist his brother-in-law, by working with him at his trade.
The occupation of a carpenter is, in towns distant from tlie metropolis, often

JOHN HUNTER. 167

combined with that of a cabinet maker; — and thence arose the report to whitJl
we liave just alliuled. His nssistanite could only have been very slight, and it
hein-v eventually impossible for IMr I?uchanan to retrieve himself from his diffi-
culties, he relinquished his business, and sought a livelihood by teaching
music, besides which, he was appointed clerk to an Episcopal congregation.
Thus the marriage of his sister, proved so far, in a worldly sense, unfortunate ;
and the predictions of her relations were too truly veritied. Her brother John
soon becximc tired of witnessing embarrassments he could not relieve, and finding
that his sister preferred grieving over her sorrows alone, to allowing him to be
tiie constant witness of her grief, he i-etiirned to Long Calderwood, after an
absence which had so far had a beneficial elTect on him, that it weaned him
from home, reconciled his mother to his absence, and in all probability
su"-<Tested to him reflections and motives for future activity, which never otlier-
wise mif^ht have occurred. It is no wonder that the village amusements to
which he had been accustomed, now lost their wonted charms ; — it is no wonder
that he felt restless and anxious to enter on some useful occupation, for already
he had witnessed Avhat were the bitter fruits of idleness and dissipation. He had
often heard of his brother Williaurs success in I/ondon, and he now wrote to
him requesting permission to pay him a visit, at the same time offering to assist
him in his anatomical labours; — and in case these proposals were not accepted,
he expressed a wish to go into the army.

His brother William returned a very kind answer to his letter, and gave him
an invitation to visit him immediately, which he cheerfully accepted, and accom-
panied by a 3Ir Hamilton who was going there on business, they rode together
on horseback, and in September, 174S, he arrived in London. About a
fortnight before the winter session of lectures for that year, his brother, anxious
to form some opinion of his talents for anatomy, gave him an arm to dissect the
muscles, with some necessary instructions for his guidance, and the performance,
we are informed, greatly exceeded expectation. William now gave him
a dissection of a more difHcult nature, — an arm in which all the arteries were
injected, and these as well as tli« muscles were to be exposed and preserved.
His execution of this task gave his brother very great satisfaction, nor did he
now hesitate to declare that he would soon become a good anatomist, and, fur-
thermore, he promised that he should not want for employment. Here we may
observe, that the manipulation in dissecting requires a species of tact, which, like
many other acquirements, is best obtained in early life ; and now under the
instruction of his brother, and his assistant 3Ir Symonds, he had every oppor-
tunity for improvement, as all the dissections carried on in London at this time
wei'e confined to that school.

In the summer of 174!), the celebrated Cheselden, at the request of Dr Hunter,
permitted John to attend at the Chelsea hospital, where he had ample oppor-
tunities for studying by the sick-bed, the progress and modifications of disease.
At this time surgical pathology was in a rude state ; and, among other absurd
doctrines, the progress of ulceration was held to be a solution of the solid parts
into pus, or n.atter. \Mien the mind, ho\\ever young, enters fresh and vigor-
ous into the field of inquiry, untrammelled by early prejudices, it is apt to
observe phenomena in new relations, and to discover glimmerings of paths
which lead to the knowledge of unsuspected truths. Such, at this time, we may
consider to have been tlie state of John Hunter's mind ; — acute in all its per-
ceptions ; discriminate in all its observations ; and free to embrace fearlessly
whatever new theories his reflections might suggest. Here, therefore, in
learning the first rudiments of surgery, he first began to suspect the validity of

158

JOHN HUNTER.

the doctrines which ^vere proniiilg^ated, whicii some few years afterwards, it was
his g-ood fortune to combat, and overthrow.

In the 8ii(;ceeding season, IMr Hunter was so far advanced in the knowledge
of practical anatomy as to relieve his brother from the duty of attending in the
dissecting-room. 'J his now became tlie scene of the younger brotlier's employ-
ment during the winter months, uhilst \\ iiliam confined himself to delivering
lectures in tiie theatre. In tiie sunnuer he resumed his attendance at the Clielsea
hospital, and in the following year, 1751, he became a pupil at St Hartholomew's
hospital, where he was generally present at tlie performance of the most remark-
able operations. At tJiis time I\lr Pott was one of the senior surgeons at the
latter institution, and no man operated more expertly, or lectured with better
ertl'ct than he did ; and although his pathological doctrines >vere subsequently,
and with justice, arraigned by his present pupil, his name is nowhere mentioned
by him but with the highest respect.

In the year 1753, Mr Hunter entered as a gentleman commoner in St Mary's
Hall, Oxford ; probably with the view of sul)seqiiently becoming a fellow of
the College of Physicians. But his matriculation was not afterwards persevered
in, and the following year he entered as surgeon's pupil at St George's hospi-
tal. His ol)ject in taking this step, which might appear to have heen superflu-
ous, is obvious. He desired to obtain the aj»pointment of surgeon to some
public hospital ; and he well knew, that while his chance of success at Chelsea
hospital was very remote, he was precluded from competing for the appointment
nt St Bartholomew's, from the circumstance of his not having served an appren-
ticeship to any surgeon of that hospital, a qualification expressly required by
every candidate for that office. He accordingly calculated that the chances
Avere more in his favour at St George's, where he hoped to obtain sufficient
interest among the medical officers to facilitate his wishes. To this hospital he
was, in two years afterwards, appointed house-surgeon. This, we may observe,
is a temporary office, the person holding which may be regarded as a resident
pupil, who resides in the house, and is expected to be always in readiness to
attend to any accident that may be brought to the house, or may occur in the
vicinity^

In the winter of 1755, he was admitted to a partnerehip in the lectures of his
brother, a certain portion of the course being allotted to him, and he being
required to lecture during the occasional absence of his colleague. Probably
from the neglect of his early education he was little qualified to compete with
his brother as a le<:turer, a task he always performed with very great difficulty.
For making dissections, and anatomical preparations, he was unrivalled in skill ;
and this was of no mean importance when we remember, that this art was at
that time very little known, and that such exhibitions were of great utility during
the public lecture. " Mr Hunter worked for ten years," says Sir liverard
Home, " on human anatomy, dining which period he made himself master of
what was already known, as well as made some adtlition to that knowledge. He
traced the ramilic^itions of the olfactory nerves upon the membranes of the nose,
and discovered the course of some of the branches of the fifth pair of nerves.
In the gravid uterus, he traced the arteries of the uterus to their termination in
the placenta. He \\ns also the first who discovered the existence of the lympha-
tic vessels in birds." The difficulty of unraveling all the complex parts of the
human frame, induced hiui to extend his inquiries, and examine into the struc-
ture of the inferior animals, nature having, asDr Geoffroy St Hilaire has more
recently denmnstrated, preserved one type in the organization of all animate
beings. He applied to the keeper of the tower, and the men who are the pro-
prietors of the menageries of wild beasts, for the bodies of the animals which

JOHN HUNTER. 159

(lied under tlieif care, besides uliicii lie purdiased siu;li rare animals as came in
his «ay, and many were presented to liini liy liis friends, Avliidi lie very judi-
ciously intrusted to the sliounieii to keep until they died, the better to secure
tiieir interest in assisting him in iiis labours.

Ill health is too often tiie penalty of unremitting- application, and 3Ir Hunter's
health now becnme so much impaired by excessive attention to his pursuits, that
in the year 17G0, when he iiad just completed liis thirty-second year, he became
affected by symptoms which appeared to tiireaten consumption, and for which a
milder <dimate was deemed advisable.

In October, 17(i0, he was appointed by IMr Adair, surgeon on the staff, and
the following spring he embarked with the army for Belleisle, leaving 31r Hew-
son to assist his brother during his absence. Botli in i5el!eisle and Portugal he
served as senior surgeon on tiie staff', until the year ITfiS, and during this period
amassed the materials for his valuable work on gun-shot wounds. Nor is this
all ; taking advantage of the opportunities presented to him, he examined the
bodies of many of the recently killed, with the view of tracing the healthy struc-
tures of certain parts, as well as the nature of particular secretions. After the
peace in 17G3, JMr Hunter returned to England, " which," says one of his
biographers, " I liave often heard him say he bad left long enough to be satis-
fied, how preferable it is to all other countries."

Mr Hewson had now supplied the place of Mr Hunter in superintending dis-
sections and assisting in the anatomical theatre dining the space of two years,
and it was scarcely to be expected that he would resume his connexion with his
brother. During his absence, the interest he had previously acquired in the
profession, naturally became diminished ; for it is the fate of all who are either
by necessity or choice induced to leave their native country, to find on their re-
turn, the friendship of some alienated, and that death, or worldly circumstances
have compelled others to leave the circle of their former accpiaintance. Here
then we find IMr Hunter at the age of thirty-six, with very limited means, and
with few friends, settling in London to commence the great professional struggle
which all are destined to encounter who enter on this particular path of life,
which is generally found to be crowded with competitors whom good fortune
has already signalized with success. Scarcely can any situation of greater
anxiety be conceived, than that of an able and active-minded man sitting
down to practise medicine in a city in which he is comparatively a stranger,
and which is already supplied with numerous rival practitioners, on whom the
public has already pronounced a favourable verdict. Such at this time was the posi-
tion of Mv Hunter, as one of his biographers simply but emphatically expresses
it, " the practice of surgery now and for a long time afterwards afforded no
opening for him ; Hawkins, Bunfield, Sharpe, Potter, embraced almost the
whole of family pr.actice, whilst Adair and Tomkins carried from him the chief
of the practice derived from the army." Disheartening, and indeed gloomy as
these prospects now were, he returned with unabated ardour to his scientific
pursuits, and laid the foundation of that eminence which he afterwards attained.
If the difficulties of this world be met with philosophy, and with a firm resolu-
tion to overcome them, they may generally be surmounted, and they then leave
the moral victor both the wiser and the happier for the conflict. So was it
ivith John Hunter, who, finding the emoluments from his half-pay and private
pi-actice insufllcient to support him, determined on teaching practical anatomy
and operative surgery. \Vith the pecuniary means which he was thus enabled
to raise, he purchased about two miles from London a piece of ground near
Brompton, at a place called Earl's Court, and there built a house for the pur-
pose of experiments, which he could not c^rry on successfully in a large town.

leO JOHN HUNTER,

Here, in the coui-se of liis inrjuiries he made several important discoveries, lie
ascertained the changes whidi animal and vegetal)le substances undergo in the
stomach, when acted on by tiie gastric juice ; he also, by feeding animals with
madder, which tinges growing hones witii a red colour, discarded the principles
observable in the growtli of bones ; and, furthermore, su<:ceeded in explaining
the process by which a dead piece is sejtarated iVom the living bone. During
his absence from England, his name h.id in some degree been kept up hefcre
the attention of the public, by his brother's essays in the Medical Commentaries,
where we find several allusions to his experiments and observations. In conse-
quence of these scientific researches, while he was yet, as a practitioner, over-
looked by the public, the Koyal Society, much to its honour, elected him a fel-
low, in which title he preceded Ills brother, who was ten years older,
and had heen known ten years earlier in the metropolis. The adjudgment of
this honour, and the recognition of the merit which it necesiarily carried along
with it, nmst in Mv Hunter's circumstances, have been to him peculiarly grati-
fying. It w.as to him a proud incentive to further exertion ; and a strong in-
ducement to bear up against the difficulties, which, as we have explained, at this
time retarded his professional advancement.

The love of scient-e leads us at all times to resources which lie beyond the
neglect and injustice of the world, and the mind of Hunter, untutored as it was
in early life, now sought relief, occupation, and improvement in the paths
which it opened up. Among other instructive amusements, he engaged in
Avatching the peculiar habits and instincts of various animals, for which jjurpose
he kept several, which should have been domiciled in menageries, in his own
house. Sir Everard Home relates the following anecdote : " two leopards
which were left chained in an out-house, had broken from their confinement
and got into the yard among some dogs, which they inmiediately attacked ; the
howling this produced alarmed the whole neighbourhood. Mr Hunter ran into
the yard to see what was the matter, and found one of them climbing up the
wall to make his escape, the other surrounded by the dogs ; he innnediately laid
hold of them both and carried them back to their den. But as soon as they
were secured, and he had time to reflect on the risk of his own situation, he Avas
so much agitated that lie was in danger of fainting." Incredible as to some this
anecdote may appear, we hesitate not to accord our implicit belief, knowing
how remarkable a control men have exercised even over the most savage ani-
mals, when themselves actuated by great courage and strong power of re-
solution.

This year, by a strong exertion in dancing, IMr Hunter unfortunately broke
the tendo Achillis, (the strong and broad tendon felt at the back of the foot,)
in consequence of which he introduced an improvement on the mode of treating
this accident, which was sup(!rior to that recommended by Dr Alexander iMunro,
Avho had himself at a more advanced period of life experienced a similar mis-
fortune.

We have no account from Sir Everard Home of Mr Hunter's town residence
until his brother, having completed his house in A^'indmill Street, assigned over
to him the lease of his house in .lermyn Street. It is ])resumed by one of his
biographers, that on his Hrst arrival in London he lodged, f"or the purpose of
being near to his brother's dissecting rooms, in Covent Garden, and another
informs us tiiat on his return from abroad he resided in (iolden Square. Be
this as it niay, he appears to have lived in Jermyn Street until the expiration
of the lease in 1783, a period of fifteen years. Whatever may have been the
slight difference which existed between him and his brother, the latter appears
still to have interested himself in his welfare, as we find that, chiefly tlirougli his

JOHN HUNTER. 161

interest, he was, in 176 8, (on the authority of I)r Syninioiis.) elected surgeon to
St George's hospital. He had now acquired the desired means for giving
his talents and industry full scope ; for, as fellow of the Hoyal Society, lie gained
the earliest notice of every scientific discovery and improvement which nii'dit
take place in Kurope ; and as surgeon to this hospital, he had the means of ex-
tending his observations, and confirming his pathological doctrines. His whole
time was now devoted to the examination of facts, and the patient accumulation
of such knowledge as he could gradually attain ; nor did he, as many others
have done, captivated by love of fame, rush ])reniaturely before the notice of the
public. " With the exception,'' says one of his biographers, "of what was published
in his name by his brother William, in the year 1764, there does not appear
to be any thing by John up to the year 1772. If there were any publications,
they must have terminated like many more by others ; tliey must have experienced
the fate of abortions, or at least I know nothing of them," Herein he showed
very considerable wisdom, and well would it have been for many authors, liad
they, like John Hunter, persevered even in obscurity in maturing their knowledoe
before surrendering themselves to a tribunal, whose verdict will always in the end
be found to have been dictated by the severest and most rigid principles of
justice.

The surgeons of most of the public hospitals in this country have the privi-
lege of selecting, on their own terms, house-pupils, who reside with them a year
or twa after the completion of their education. Among many who became
pupils of John Hunter, and afterwards acquired celebrity in their profession,
we may notice the famous Dr Jenner, who boarded in his house in 1770 and
1771, and lived in habits of intimacy with him until his death. "In every
conversation," says a friend of Dr Jenner's, " as well as in a letter I received from
him, he spoke with becoming gratitude of his friend and master." Even the
slightest recollection, or testimony of esteem, from such a man as Dr Jenner,
in favour or illustration of the cliaracter of John Hunter must be received with
interest. In 1771, Mr Hunter published the first part of his Treatise on the
'J'eeth, a very valuable work, the merit of which has not been surpassed by any
later production. It may be observed en passant, that this was the only work
he sold to the booksellers, all his others being publislied on his own account, or
communicated to miscellaneous collections, chiefly periodicals. Eetween the
appearance of the first and second part of his treatise, Ur Fothergill published
his paper on that painful affection of the fa<;ial nerve, denominated Tic Do-
loureux.

While thus rising in eminence, IMr Hunter became attached to the daughter of
Mr Boyne Home, surgeon of Burgoyne's regiment of light horse, who was also the
father of the celebrated Sir Everard Home. The young lady received his addresses
favourably ; but the feelings of human nature, impassioned as they may be,
must succumb to the cold reality of worldly circumstan(;es ; wherefore, their
marriage was necessarily delayed until he had obtained a sufficient competency
to maintain her in that rank of society, which for their mutual liappiness was
desirable. When the passions are staked on the success of such an atlachnicnt,
and are in fact concenti-ated in the welfare of a being so chosen, disappoinliuent
annihilates all moral energy, and reduces the prospects of life into painful riin ;
— but when hope is allowed to feed itself on encouragement, and the future
alliance definitively fixed, there is an object for exertion ; — a stimulus to action
which will not allow of rest, until the means of gaining the promised end have
been accomplished. This John Hunter appears to have duly felt, and his
exertions therefore were correspondingly increased ; and during this time, when
ho could suspend his professional and scientific toils, nothing gave Lim greater

162 JOHN HUNTER,

gratifiration than the pleasure of enjoying her society. " The expenses of his
pursuits," says Sir liveiard Home, " had been so great, that it «as not for some
yeai-s after iiis first engagement with this lady, that liisatlairs could be sufticiently
arranged to admit of his marriage. This happy period at length arrived, and
he was married to 31iss Home in 1771."

" Wiiilst he was paying," continues Sir I'verard, " his addresses to my sister,
I was a boy at Westminster school. During the holidays I came home, and .Mr
Hunter, >\ho was frequently there, always showed me particular kindness ; he
made my father an of^er to bring me up to his profession, a proposal which I
readily accepted. I was struck with the novelty and extent of his researches,
had the highest respect and admiration for his talents, and was ambitious to tread
the paths of science under so able a master."

The year after his marriage, at the request of Sir John Pringle, he read to
the Royal Society a communication showing that after death the gastric juice has
the power of dissolving the coats of the stomach. This paper he was persuaded
to read to the society, before he had entirely completed the investigations which
he further meditated; — but it appears that he did not afterwards retui-n to the
subject, considering that the fact on which any further inquiries might be formed
had been sufficiently demonstrated.

In the winter of 1773, he formed a plan for giving a course of lectures on the
theory and principles of sursery, Avith the view of vindicating his own principles,
which he frequently heard misquoted or ascribed to others, and of teaching them
systematically. The first two winters, he read his lectures gratis to the pupils of
St ^jeorge's hospital, and the winter following charged the usual terms of other
teachers in medicine and surgery. " For this, or for continuing them," savs
one of his biographers, " there could be no pecuniary motive. As he was
Under the necessity of hiring a room and lecturing by candle light, his emolu-
ments must have been trifling. The lectui-es not being considered a part of
medical edu(;ation, his class was usually small ; and of the few that heard him,
the greater part acknowledged their difficulty in understanding him, which was
often proved by their incapacity of keeping up their attention. 'I'he task itself
was so formidable to him, that he was obliged to take thirty drops of laudanum
before he entered the theatre at the beginning of each course. Yet he certainly
felt great delight in finding himself understood, always waiting at the close of
each lecture to answer any questions ; and evincing evident satisfaction when
those questions were pertinent, and he perceived that his answers were satisfac-
tory and intelligible." In addition to this. Sir Everard Home, after stating the
fact of his having recourse to laudanum — the elixir vitae of the opium eater —
" to take off' the effects of uneasiness," adds, " he trusted nothing to memory,
and made me draw up a short abstract of each lecture, which he read on the fol-
lowing evening, as a recapitulation to connect the subjects in the minds of tlif
students." Amidst all his avocations, both as a lecturer and practitioner, he still
pursued with an unabated zeal and industry his researches into comparative ana-
tomy. No opportunity for extending his knowledge on this interesting depart-
ment of science did he permit to escape him. In the year 1773, at the request
of 31r Walsh, he dissected the torpedo, and laid before the Koyal Society an
account of its electrical organs. A young elephant which had been presented to
the queen by Sir IJobert Barker, and died, afforded him an opportunity of
examining the stru<:ture of that animal ; after which two other elephants in the
queen's menagerie likewise died, which he also carefully dissected. The year
following, 1774, he published in the Philosophical Transactions an account of
certain receptacles of air in birds, showing how these communicate with the lungs
and are lodged in the fleshy parts, and in the bones of these animals ; likewise

JOHN HUNTER, 163

a paper on the gillaroo trout, coinmoiily called in Ireland the gizzard trout.
In 1775, several animals of the species called the oynmotus electricus of Suri-
nam, were brought alive into this country, and by the curious phenomena they
exhibited the attention of the s(!ientific world was greatly excited. After making
numerous experimentson theliving animals, i\lr Walsh purchased those uhichdiedj
and gave his friend Mr Hunter an opportunity of examining them. 1 his he readily
accepted, and drew up an account of tlieir electrical organs, wliicli he published
in the Philosophical Transactions. In the same volume of that valuable work
will be found his paper containing experiments respecting the powers of animals
and vegetables in producing heat. Thus, in the paths of natural history did he
find a recreation from the more serious, and often irksome duties of his profes-
sion ; — and by his skilful dissections, and acute observations, enriched our
knowledge in this interesting and fascinating department of science. While
thus engaged, IMr Hunter found a great diffi(;ulty in showing to a<ivantage the
natural appearances of many parts of animals which he wished to be preserved.
In some instances the minute vessels could not be seen when the preparation was
immersed in spirits ; in others, the natural colour of the parts preserved, and
even the character of the surface, faded and underwent a change after being
some time innnersed in this liquid, — a circumstance which, to this day,
diminishes very much the value of almost all the morbid preparations whicli are
preserved in private and public museums. The only method, tlierefore, of accom-
plishing the object he had in view, was to have them carefully and correctly
drawn at the time of the dissection. The expense of engaging draftsmen, the
difficulty of procuring them, and above all their ignorance of the subject to be
delineated, were considerable objections to their employment. Accordingly, he
engaged a young and talented artist named Eell, to live with him for ten years,
during which period it was agreed that he should be emph)yed both as a drafts-
man and in making anatomical preparations. 1'iiis young man soon imbibed the
spirit of his master; he worked assiduously with his knife, his forceps, and his
pencil ; he engaged himself during part of bis time in copying out 31r Hunter's
lectures, and in less than ten years became a skilful anatomist and surgeon.
By his labours, 3Ir Hunter's collection became enriched with many very accurate
and spirited drawings; and a variety of curious and delicate anatonii(ual prepara-
tions. This skilful artist, by the interest of his friend Sir Joseph liankes,
obtained the appointment of assistant surgeon in the honourable East India
Company for the settlement of Bencoolen in Sumatra, whither he set out with
the view both of improving his fortune, and collecting specimens of natural
history. He was in both successl'ul beyond his most sanguine expectations. He
sent home some very rare specimens of animals and corals, and two papers ^vhich
appeared in the Philosophical Transactions, — one giving a description of the
double horned rhinoceros, and the other of an uncommonly formed tish. Un-
fortunately for the cause of science, he died of fever in 179-2, being one of the
many who have been summoned from this world, amidst early promises of future
excellence and success.

In January, 1776, ]Mr Hunter was appointed surgeon extraordinary to his
majesty, — an lionour which contributed still farther to advance his ])rofcssional
interests. About this time the attention of the public was much directed to the
efforts of the Humane Society. Dr Cogan was the fiist who introduced the sub-
ject from Holland ; and after him, Dr Hawes did not suffer it to rest until it
experienced the royal patronage. Here again we find Mr Hunter zealously en-
gaged in endeavouring to ascertain the best mode of restoring ajtparently drowned
persons, the consequence of which was the production of a paper which he read
to the Koyal Society, entitled " Proposals for tlie Kecovery of Persons apparently

1G4 JOHN HUNTER.

Drowned." Tlie able author of this paper draws the distinction between the mere
suspension of the functions ijy which life is supported, and absolute death, which
he illustrates by reference to various animals, in whom, under certain conditions,
the actions of life are temporarily suspended. It further contains a description
of the signs of life and death, which are of vast importance ; indeed, notwith-
standinq the progress that has since been made, both in (ierniany and liritain, in
medical jurisprudence, this paper contains information which has by no means
been superseded.

In the autunni of this year, Mr Hunter was taken extremely ill, and the
nature of his complaints induced botli his friends and himself to apprehend that
his life was in iunuinent danger. However, the anticipated calamity was averted ;
he rallied, and was restored to his friends and the public, to whom his subse-
quent services were of such vast importance. When on his sick bed, he rellected
on his own worldly artairs, such as he was about to leave them ; — he perceived
that all liis fortune had been expended in his pursuits ; that his family had no
provision excepting what might arise from the sale of his collection ; and he
naturally, on this account, sutt'ered nmch solicitude and anxiety. No sooner did
he leave his sick chamber, than he connnenced arranging his collection, so that
it might, in \vhatever event, connnand its value, and with this view he began to
make a catalogue of the collection ; but the delicacy of his health obliged him
to desist from his labours, and persuaded by his friends and relatives, he retired
for a time to Bath. During his absence, 3Ir Everard Home was employed to
dra^v out descriptions of the preparations, leaving blanks for tliose with which
he was unacquainted. His complaints were considerably ameliorated by his
residence at Bath ; and though he returned to town before he was quite convales-
cent, he continued to amend, and was soon recovered.

In 1778, he published the second part of his Treatise on the Teeth, and also,
in the Philosophical Transactions, a paper on the iieat of animals and vegetables.
" I had now," says Sir Everard Home, " lived six years with IMr Hunter and
completed my education : his expenses had always exceeded his income. I had
therefore no emolument to expect from remaining in his house, which made it
necessary for me to take up some line for my own support, and admiral Kej>-
pel's action with the French ileet was the means of procuring me a very eligible
situation."

Thus Mr Hunter was now deprived of the valuable assistance of his former
pupil. And here we may pause to observe, both from the reflections which lie
made during his late illness, and the statement of Sir E. Home, that his expendi-
ture had always exceeded his income, how slow are the emoluments of men
whose scientilic labours are nevertheless an advantage and honour to their
country. IMr Hunter had now ai'rived at the age of fifty years, thirty of
which had been devoted to his profession ; he had been eleven years mem-
ber of the lioyal Society, and nine years an hospital surgeon ; — he was
respected and esteemed by the most accomplished men of science, and his
claims to honoin-able distinction recognized by the nobility and by royalty
itself; but still his ])ecuniary <;ircumstances were at so low an ehb, that, had
lie <lied dia-ing his late illness, his Avife and children would have been left
comparatively destitute. His expenses do not appear to have been great; his
family had increased, but only two survived, and these were still of an age to be
little expensive ; his o\vn personal expenses were not considerable; and yet Hve
years after this period (says one of his biograi»hers), \vlien he purchased a lease-
hold in Leicester Square, he assured us that he was under the necessity of mort-
gaging before he coidd pay for it, and for some time afterwards he used to
regret that all he could collect in fees " went to carpentei-s and briclvlayers ;

JOHN HUNTER,

165

whilst the sum expended was scarcely sufficient to furnish the library of a
literary character." But the calaniiti«'S and poverty of men of genius are so
proverbial, tliat the hand of iuniianity willingly draws a veil over their suflerings ;
and yet there is something higher than riches to be obtained in this world, and
amidst all the difficulties he has to encounter, happy is he who can command the
power of contributing even in the slightest degree to the uell-being and happi-
ness of the human race. It is this higli hope, this internal moral conviction,
which always has, and ever will support genius along the difficult and thorny
track -which it is its destiny to tread.' In 1780, Mr Hunter laid before tlie
Royal Society an account of a woman who had the small pox during pregnancy,
and in whom the disease seems to have been communicated to the fcetus. 'J lie
following year he was elected fellow of the Royal Society of Sciences and Belles
Lettres at Gottenburg.

During this period, he read before the Royal Society many valuable com-
munications ; among which we may notice, a paper on the Organ of Hearing
ill Fish, and six Croonian lectures on Bluscular Motion. In these lectures he
collected all the observations that had been made on the muscles, respecting
their powers and effects, and the stimuli by which they are ex<;ited ; and to
these he added comparative observations concerning the moving powers ot
plants ; but these lectures were not published in the Philosophical Transactions,
as they were not considered by the author to be sufficiently complete disser-
tations.

Sir Everard Home informs us, that in the year 1783, Mr Hunter was chosen
into the Royal Society of Medicine and Royal Academy of Surgery in Paris.
In this year, continues the same writer, the lease of his house in Jermyn Street
expired, and his collection being now too large to be contained in his dwelling
house, lie purchased the lease of a large liouse on the east side of Leicester
Square, and the whole lot of ground extending to Castle Street, in which there
was another house. In the middle space between the two houses he erected a
building for his collection. Upon this building he expended above three thou-
sand pounds, and, unfortunately for his family, the lease did not extend beyond
twenty-four years. *****" During the execution of this exten-
sive plan I returned to England from Jamaica, where, at the close of the war, 1
had been appointed staff surgeon. * * * * I found Mr Hunter now ad-
vanced to a considerable practice, and a still greater share of public confidence.
His collection had increased with his income. In this he was materially assisted
by his friendship with Sir Joseph Bankes, who not only allowed him to take any
of his own specimens, but procured hiiu every curious animal production in his
power, and afterwards divided between him and the British Museum all the
specimens of animals he had collected in his voyage round the world. Drawing
materials from such ample sources, standing alone in this branch of science, and
high in the public estimation, he had so much attention paid to him, that no new
animal was brought to this country which was not shown to him ; many were
given to him, and of those Avhich were for sale he had commonly the refusal ;
under these circumstances his collection made a progress which would otherwise
have been impossible. In April, 1785, his new rooms were completed, and I
devoted the whole of the summer to the object of assisting him in moving liia
preparations, and arranging them in their proper order.' '"

The surgical practice of Mr Hunter now daily increased, and he perlormed

1 Vide Exposition of the false medium and barrier excluding men of genius from the
public. London, Effingliam Wilson, 183.3. , „ . . iii j i ^

2 Life of John Hunter by Sir Everard Home, prefixed to his Treatisa on the Blood, Ii.flum-
m.ition, and Gun shot wounds.

16G JOHN HUNTER.

wilh gre.ii skill and iiidgmeiit numerous operations, which were at that time ne^
in the art of surgery; but wliatever may have been liie muhiplicity of liis jiro-
fessional enganements, his mind was still devoted to etlecting improvements in
medical education, and witii this view, assisted by his friend the celebrated Dr
I'ordyce, lie instituted a medieval society, called the Lyceum .^ledicum Londinense
the meetings of which were held in his own lecture-rooms, and which acquired
no inconsiderable reputation, both from the numbers and character of its mem-
bers. Institutions of this kind have been of eminent importance in fostering
and eliciting talents that have done honour to medical science : and this under
the patronage it enjoyed did not fail to flourish.

In the year 1786, in consequence of the death of 3Ir IMiddleton, Mr Hunter
was appointed deputy sin-geon general to the army ; shortly after which he pub-
lished his work on the venereal disease, and another entitled " Observations
on certain parts of the Animal Economy;" both which works rank high in the
estimation of the profession. Sir Everard Home mentions the curious fact, that
he chose to iiave his works printed and publisiied in his own house, but " find-
ing," he adds, " this measure to bear hard upon the booksellers in a way which
had not been explained, and which was not intended, the second editions were
sold by 31r Johnson in St Paul's Church-yard, and lAlr NicoU, Pall Mall." In
the spring of this year he had another very severe illness, which confined him to
bed, and rendered him incapable of any kind of business. " In this state," sa\s
his biographer, " 1 was obliged to take upon myself the charge of his pa-
tients, as well as of his otlier affairs ; and these wei-e so extensive, that my resi-
dence in his house became absolutely necessary. His recovery was very slow,
and his health received so severe a shock, that he was never afterwards entirely
free from complaint or capable of his usual bodily exertion. After his recovery
from this illness, he was subjeded to affections of the heart upon every occasion
which agitated his mind. In this infirm state he was unable to attend patients
upon sudden calls in the night, or to perform operations without assistance ; and
for these years I continued to live with iiim until within a year of his death,
and then took a house within a few doors, which, in no respects detached me
from his pursuits, or prevented me from taking a part in his private practice.
The uncertainty of the continuance of life under this affection ; the mental agi-
tation, and frequent depression with \vhich it is almost invariably attended,
render the victims of such generally anxious and unhappy ; the canker
worm is felt to be preying within the living frame, and there is no hope of
restoration to permanent health. But notwithstanding all this, his energies re-
mained unabated, and he still toiled with his wonted alacrity in the pursuit of
knowledge. In the year 1787, he submitted to the Royal Society a paper
giving an account of the experiment he had made to determine the effect of ex-
tirpating one ovarium, on the number of the young ; also another communica-
tion, in which he proves the wolf, jackall, and dog to be of the same species;
and another on the anatomy of the whale tribe. In return for these labours,
having been twelve years a fellow, he received the gold Copleyan medal. Dis-
tinctions of this kind, although abstractly no stimulus to men who are actuated
by higher motives in pursuit of knowledge, when conferred on men of such emi-
nent abilities, not only do honour to the individual to whom they are presented,
but to the institution by which they are awarded ; and certainly, on reviewing
the labours of John Hiniter, there was perhaps no man who over lived, better
entitled to this honour. In the July of this year, he was chosen a member of
tha American Philosophical Society ; and the same year, on account of his con-
tinued ill health, he applied to the governors of St George's hospital to allow
him an assisUint surgeon, to whicli request they readily acceded ; and Sir

JOHN HUNTER.

167

Everard Home was appointed to the office. In the year 1789, he succeeded
3Ir Adaii* as inspector general of hospitals, nnd surgeon general of the army,
and about the same time \vas admitted a member of the Royal College of Sur-
geons in Ireland.

In the year 1792, Mr Hunter found that the period which he allotted to lec-
turing interfered so much with his other avocations, tiiat he gave his materials
for the lectures into the hands of Sir Everard Home, who relieved him of this
duty. He now therefore began to prepare for the press his " Treatise on the
Blood, Inflammation, and Gun-shot wounds," the data for which he had been
collecting for many years. In his dedication to the king, he states that his ap<
pointment as surgeon on the start' in the expedition against Belleisle afforded
hina tlie opportunities of attending to gun-sliot wounds, of seeing the errors and
defects in that branch of military surgery, and of studying to remove them.
He fui'ther adds, that it drew his attention to inflammation in general, and
enabled him to make the observations which form the bases of that doctrine,
which has since his time excited so much controversy among physiologists. By
a series of very interesting experiments, and by a very ingenious mode of
reasoning, he came to the conclusion maintained by this doctrine, which holds,
that the blood as existing in its fluid state is alive, and that its death causes the
changes which are observed to take place Avhen it is abstracted from the body.
In the Old Testament we read, " ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh ;
for the life of all flesh is the blood," (Levit. xvii. 14.) The same doctrine
too seems promulgated in the Alcoran — and appears to have been maintained
by the celebrated Harvey ; — but notwithstanding these facts, there is no reason
to presume that the idea was plagiarized by John Hunter : on the contrary, his
opinion was with him original, inasmuch as it was elicited by the experiments
which he himself performed. This would by no means be an appropriate place
to discuss the general merits of this physiological doctrine ; but we do not err
in stating that it is supported by very plausible evidence, and is maintained by
many eminent men of science. The natui-e and seat of the living principle
which raises man above the inanimate beings by which he is surrounded, is
manifestly beyond the reach of human investigation ; but it must be satisfactory
to those who have not time nor inclination even to examine the evidence which
has been on either side adduced, to find, that such men as John Hunter and
Abernethy recognized the existence of something beyond the mere mechanism
of the human frame; that they in their acute reasonings urged the existence of
an internal and self-sustaining principle, Avhich modifies the dift'erent conditions
of matter, and must be therefore superior to its decay.

In the year 1792, Mr Hunter was elected an honorary member of the Chi.
rurgico-Physical Society of Edinburgh, and likewise connected himself with the
Veterinary College, then just projected in London. " The origin of tiiis insti-
tution," says Dr Adams, " was at Odiham in Hampshire ; the Agricultural
Society of which had offered a premium for the best account of the glanders.
Mr Sergeant Bell was the fortunate candidate, and the society Avas so well
pleased with his piece, that in a little time after, a Veterinary College was pro-
jected, over which that gentleman should preside. As soon as the proposal Avas
known to iMr Hunter he eagerly joined it, urging the advantages which might
be derived from it, not only to quadrupeds, but to man, by extending our
kno\vledge of physiology and more especially of pathology. In order to forward
the plan, several gentlemen, the duke of Bedford at their head, deposited £500
on the chance of its being never returned, IMr Hunter was one of the number.
It was proposed that he should examine Mr Sergeant Bell, to which he readily
assented. It v. ill easily be conceited by those who are not at all acquainted

1G8

JOHN HUNTER.

»vith the continental pathology of those days, that the examination proved unsatis-
factory. IMr Hunter would have gladly introdu<'ed another gentleman ; but this
did not at all lessen his zeal in promoting the object of the institution." Such
was the origin of his connexion willi the London X'eterinary College, of which
he now became one of the vice-presidents.

In the transactions of the Society for improving IMedical Knowledge, of which
Mr Hunter >\as one of tiie original and most zealous members, he published
about this period papers on the Treatment of Intiamed Veins, on Introsuscep-
tion, and on a mode of conveying food into the stomach in cases of i)aralysis of
the (Hsophagus. He likewise finished his Observations on the l^cononiy of Bees,
and presented them to the Royal Society. Tiiese observations he finished at
Earl's Court, which was his place of retirement from the toils of his profession,
but by no means a retreat from those intellectual labours which diversified the
whole tenor of his life. " It was there," says Sir Everard Home, " he carried
on his experiments on digestion, on exfoliation, on the transplanting of teeth
into the combs of cocks, and all his other investigations on the animal economy,
as well in health as in disease. The connuon bee was not alone the subject of
his observation, but the wasp, hornet, and the less known kinds of bees were
also objects of his attention. It was there he made the series of preparations of
the external and internal changes of the silk worm ; also a series of the incuba-
tion of the Ggj^, with a very valuable set of drawings of the whole series. The
growth of vegetables was also a favourite subject of inquiry, and one on which
he was always engaged making experiments. In this retreat he had collected
many kinds of animals and birds, and it was to him a favourite amusement in
his walks to attend to their actions and to their habits, and to make them
familiar witii him. The fiercer animals were those to which he was most partial,
and he had several of the bull kind from all parts of the world. Among these
was a beautiful small bull he had received from the queen, with which he used
to wrestle in play, and entertain himself with its exertions in its own defence.
In one of these contests the bull overpowered him and got him down, and had
not one of the servants accidentally come by, and frightened the animal away,
his frolic \vould probably have cost him his life."-' The pleasure which a man
of high intellectual endowments, and refined sensibility, takes in watching the
habits, and in a manner sympathizing with the feelings exhibited by the lower
classes of animals, constitutes one of the most amiable and noble features which
his disposition can pourtray, and doubtless must give rise to some of the finest
and most generous feelings of which human nature is susceptible. IMan is in all
cases the representative, or rather the repetition of mere man, and in the sutler-
ings of one of his own species he sees reflected as in a mirror the miseries he
himself may possibly have to endure ; ^^llerefore the chords of pity are by a
latent feeling of self-interest vibrated, and he enters into commiseration with his
fellow man ; but to extend his thoughts and feelings beyond the possible range
of his own experience to the commonly despised, or perhaps maltreated lower
animals, manilests a high and generous tone of feeling independent of all such
collateral selfishness, and in perfect consonance with the most elevated principles
of Ciiristian philosophy. Here then we have before us the instance of a philo-
sopher whose profound knowledge had already, in no trifling degree, contributed
to the advancement of science and the benefit of the human race, familiarizing
himself, and with child-like simplicity playing, with animals, which, although of
a lower order of classitiration, possess senses as acute, feelings as strong, and
necessities as urgent as our own, and which by their complex and equally perfect
organization, prove themselves to be as niui-h the subjects of divine cai'e, — and
^ Life of Johu Iluuter, by Sir Everard UoH3,

JOHN HUNTER. 169

in tlieir oun spheres as important in carrying out and completing the gi-eat
scheme of tlie universe.

We liave thus already traced the life of John Hunter from youth to
middle age ; from obscurity to eminence; from adversity to prosperity; and
it remains for us now to notice those accessions of disease which rendered the
tenure of liis life one of extreme uncertainty. We have already stated

that in the spring of 1769, he was confined to bed by a serious illness, an

acute attack of gout, uhicli returned the three following springs, but not the
fourth. In the spring of 1773, he became affected with very severe spasmodic
symptoms, owing to disease of the heart. His next illness took place in 1776,
and this appears to have been occasioned by inflammation in tlie arteries of the
brain, which gave rise to morbid appearances that were recognized after death.
It is said that this attack was occasioned by mental anxiety, arising from the
circumstance of his being obliged to pay a large sum of money for a friend for
whom he had become security, and which jiis circumstances rendered extremely
inconvenient. After, on this occasion^ taking certain refreshments, and feeling-
relieved, he ventured on attempting a journey of eight miles in a post-chaise ;
but he became so much worse that he was obliged to go to bed, and was after-
wards brought home in a post-chaise. The determination of blood to the head
in particular, gave rise to many very remarkable symptoms. >A'hen he went to
bed he felt giddy, and experienced a sensation of being suspended in the air.
This latter painful feeling increased. The least motion of his head upon the
pillow seemed to be so great that he scarcely dared attempt it. If he but moved
his head half round, it appeared to be moving from him with great velocity. The
idea he had of his own size was that of being only two feet long; and when he
drew up his foot or pushed it down, it seemed to be moving a vast way. His
sensations became extremely acute or heightened ; he could not bear the least
light, a curtain and blanket were obliged to be hung up before it, and the bed
curtains closely drawn. He kept his eyes firmly closed, but if a candle was only
passed across the room he could not bear it. His hearing was also painfully
acute ; as was likewise his sense of smell and of taste ; every thing he put into
his mouth appearing of a higher flavour than natural. After bein^ bled, and
subjected to other reducing treatment, he recovered from this severe attack ;
but his constitution had received a shock, which nothing could surmount. An
organic disease lurked within, which every excitement would aggravate, if not
lead to direct and suddenly fatal consequences. He had no particular illness,
however, from this period until 1785, " although," says Sir Everard Home,
" he appeared much altered in his looks, and gave the idea of being much older
than could be accounted for from the number of years which had elapsed." The
physiognomy of death is often impressed on the features of the living, for some
time before the fatal event occurs which severs them from their relations with
the world. So was it with John Hunter ; — but in the beginning of the April
of this latter year, he became attacked with a dreadfully severe spasmodic disease,
which, like his similar attacks, was induced by mental anxiety. His feet, his
hands, and then his chest became successively aftected ; and in effect the exten-
sion of the spasm became so considerable that he repeatedly swooned. " I was
with him," says his accomplished brother-in-law, " during the whole of
this attack, and never saw any thing equal to the agonies which he suffered ;
and when he fainted away I thought him dead, as the pain did not seem to
abate, but to carry him off, having first completely exhausted him." Such were
the intense sufferings he endured : nevertheless, he rallied, and partially
recovered, nor did any thing of the kind jiarticularly recur until the December
of 1789, when at the house of a friend he became atllicted by a total loss of

170 JOHN HUNTER.

memory. He did not know in what part of the town he was ; nor eyen the

name of the street when told it ; nor wliere his own liouse was, nor had he any
conception of any place existing beyond the room he was in, yet in the midst
of all this was he perfeitly conscious of the loss of M»emory. He was sensible of
impressions of all kinds from the senses, and therefore looked out of the window,
although rather dark, to see if he could be made sensible of the situation of the
house ; at length this loss of memory gradually went off, and in less than half an
hour his memory was perfectly recovered. About a fortnight afterwards when
visiting a patient, an attack, somewhat of a similar nature, recurred ; and during
this illness he was attended by Dr Pitcairn and Ur Baillie. Amidst all the
diseases and sufferings to which the living body is subjected, the changes which in
an especial manner artect the mind, are interesting to all — whether protessional
or non-professional. His mental impressions during this attack were lively,
indeed, often disagreeably so. His dreams had so much the strength of reality
that they often awakened him ; but the remembrance of them remained
perfect.

" The sensation," says Sir Everard Home, " which he had in his head was not
pain, but rather so unnatural as to give him the idea of having no head. The
organs of sense (as in the former illness,) were painfully acute. He could not
endure the light; and every thing had a yellow cast. Sounds were louder
than natural, and every object had lost its true direction, leaning, as nearly as he
could guess, to an angle of fifty or sixty degrees. His recovery from this attack
was less perfect than from any other ; he never lost the obliquity of vision ;
and his memory became much inipairetL The recurrence too of the spasms
became more frequent. The slightest exertion induced them. He never went
to bed without their being brought on by the act of undressing himself: — they
came on during the middle of the night ; — the least excitement in conversation
was attended by them ; and even operations in surgery, if requiring any nicety,
occasioned them. It is remarked by Sir Everard Home, that as his niind was
irritated by trifles, these produced the most violent effects on his disease. " His
coachman,'' says he, " being beyond his time, or a servant not attending to his
directions, brought on the spasms, while a real misfortune produced no such
efliect. He thus continued to drag on a painful and precarious existence,
with the grave every moment threatening to open beneath his feet. At length
the fatal event so long anticipated by his friends occurred ; it was sudden ; and
occasioned, as his former fits had been, by mental excitement. 'Ihe circum-
stances by which this was occasioned, are thus detailed by Dr Adams, who had a
personal knowledge of them. " A law," says he, " concerning the qualifica-
tions required lor the admission of pupils, had been carried contrary to the
wishes of 3Ir Hunter. At this time he was applied to by a youth ignorant of
the new regulation and consequently unprovided with any documents. His for-
mer residence was at a great distance, and he was anxious not to lose time during
an expensive stay in London, in fitting himself for professional service. 31r
Hunter, to relieve himself from the irksomeness of pleading or explaining,
requested the case might be drawn up in the form of a letter addressed to him-
self. This he proposed to bring with him at the meeting of the next board.
Notwithstanding this great caution, ho\\ever, he felt the probability of a contest
which he might prove unable to support. On the succeeding day the writer of
this, (Dr Adams,) had a very long conversation with him, in which we were
insensibly led to his complaint ; a subject of all others the most interesting to
his friends, and on which he never was backward in conversing. He was willing
to hear every argument against the probable existence of an organic infirmity ;
but it was easy to see that his own opinion remained the same. Nor did he fail

JOHN HUNTER. 171

on this occasion, to revert to the effect which it had on liis temper. On the fol-
lowing day, I am informed from good aiitliority, he told a baronet, mIio called
on him in the morning, tliat lie uas going to the hospital ; that he uas fearful
some unpleasant rencounter would ensue, and if such should be the case, he knew
it nuist be his death." Notwithstanding this presentiment, he chose to hazard the
event, for the purpose of defending a youth, against what aj)peared to him an
opj>ressive and luijust regulation. The generosity of such a motive is the best
apology for the indiscretion in attending the meeting, at whi<h such fatal conse-
quences were, even by himself, apprehended. " On the Kith October," says Sir
Everard Houie," when in his usual state of health, he went to St George's
hospital, and meeting with something which irritated his mind, and not being
perfectly master of the circiunstances, he withheld his sentiments ; in which
6t<ate of restraint he went into the next room, and turning round to Dr Robin-
son, one of the physicirais to tlie hospital, he gave a deep groan, and dropped
down dead." His body was conveyed from the hospital in a sedan chair, and
underwent a careful medical examination, by which it appeared that among
other morbid changes that had occurred, the arteries both of the heart and brain
had undergone ossification. His funeral was attended by a few of liis oldest
medical friends, and his remains interred in the vault under the parish church
of St Martin's in the Fields. He expired, it may be added, in his sixty-fifth
year, the same age, at which his brother Dr Williaui Hunter died.

We have now noticed seriatim the principal events which characterized the
life of this eminent surgeon, and throughout them we notice the manifestation
of great mental energy, combined with considerable powers of originality.
His early education had it is true been grievously neglected ; but this very
fact left him at liberty to explore more freely new and untrodden paths, which
men shackled by scholastic dogmas, and bowing witli undue reverence to pre-
existing authorities, seldom have the courage to attempt. \\ ith such men tlie
deviation from established rules is regarded as a species of heterodoxy ; and
their learning-, therefore, chains them down to a fixed and never iuiproving
system. Thus it was with the majority of physicians who embraced, and then
promulgated ex ca^/zerfra, the doctrines of Galen, Boerhaave, Stahl, and others;
but it was otherwise with John Hunter ; he was of no school ; he went with an
unprejudiced mind to nature, and examined into all her operations with that
freedom and independence which can alone advance the true interests of philo-
sophy. He read very little. " I have learned," says one of liis biographers,
*' from a gentleman who was very intimate with him, that when lie had made a
discovery, it was his custom to relate it to Mr Cruickshanks, wlio frequently in-
formed him that Haller had made the same obsei'vation before." In every de-
partment of science, and even in general literature, such coincidences of
observation will often occur ; and these too frequently have given rise to charges
of wilful plagiarism, of whi(;h the suspected author was never guilty. John
Hunter was a man of truly original observation ; and distinguished himself as
much by the practical application of his knowledge, as by tlie ingenious theories
jvliich he adopted. As a surgeon, he was a bold but judicious, a quick yet
skilful operator ; and suggested many improvements in the mode of performing
difficult operations. He discovered the method of operating for popliteal aneu-
rism by taking up the femoral artery on the anterior part of the thigh without
interfering with the tumour in the ham, by Avhich the pain, and danger, and
future sufierings of the patient are materially mitigated. This indeed ranks
among the most important of the improveuients which have recently been intro-
duced into the practice of surgery. It may be added, that John Hunter always
held the showy part of surgery in the lowest estimation. " To perform an

172 JOHN HUNTER.

operation," said he, " is to mutilate a patient whom we are unable to rare; it
should therefore he considered as an acknowledgment of the imperfection of
our art." How ditlerent a sentiment is this from that entertained by some
eminent surgeons, who, with nmcii surgiral skill but little humanity, recom-
mend operations at the risk of the patient's life, and handle the knife, when
in the public theatre, rather with the view of exhibiting their own dexterous
manipulation, than with that of relieving the condition of the unfortunate
being who writhes beneath the torture which is so coolly and ostentatiously
inflicted.

In the former part of our memoir we adverted to the diflicultics whicli this
eminent surgeon experienced for some years in struggling against those
pecuniary adversities, which seem in an especial manner to oppi'ess men of
superior mental endowments. But the subsequent tenor of his career teaches
a lesson which cannot too strongly be inculcated ; — that resolution, industry,
and perseverance, will in the end baffle the evil genius which seems at first to
throw thorns and impediments around our path. During the first eleven years of
liis practice, which, it nmst be admitted, was for him a long and tedious mental
probation, his income never amounted to a thousand pounds a year ; however,
the four succeeding years it exceeded that sum ; and for several years previous
to his death, it increased to five, and was at that period six thousand pounds
a year. Whatever difiiculties, therefore, at first beset his progress were event-
ually surmounted ; he attained the highest rank in his profession ; he was uni-
versally esteemed and extolled as a man of general science ; he had as much
pi-actice as he could attend to ; his emoluments were considerable ; and if we
raise up the curtain of domestic life, we shall find him cheered by the society of
a wife whom he loved ; whose superior mental accomplishments rendered her a fit
companion even lor a man of his elevated scientific rank ; besides all which, he
was the parent of two cliildren, in whom, it was natural that his best hopes and
warmest affections should be centered. " Nor," says Dr Adams, " was he in-
sensible of these blessings; he has often told me, that if he had been allowed to
bespeak a pair of children, they should have been those with which providence
had favoured him." But the cup of human enjoyment seldom mantles to the
brim without containing some drops of alloying bitterness; and there is no
doubt but that professional anxieties and ill health rendered his temper irritable
and impetuous. He was, says Sir Everard Home, readily provoked, and when
irritated not easily soothed. His <lisposition was candid and free from reserve,
even to a fault. He hated deceit, and as he was above every kind of artifice,
he detested it in others, and too openly avowed his sentiments. His mind was
uncommonly active ; it was naturally formed for investigation, and that turn
displayed itself on the most trivial occasions, and always with mathematical
exactness. W liat is curious, it fatigued him to be long in mixed company
which did not admit of connected conversation, more particularly during the
last ten years of his life. He required less relaxation than other men ; seldom
bleeping more than four hours in the night, but almost always nearly an hour
after dinner : this probably arose from tiie natural turn of his mind being so
much ad.ipled to his own occupations, that they were in reality his amusements,
and therefore did not fatigue.

\\'e have already seen how much time, even amidst his arduous professional
toils and mis(;ellaneous pursuits, he devoted to omparative anatomy, and in
collecting preparatiitns to illustrate every department of that interesting science.
The museum which he succeeded in founding, remains to this day <a monument
of his industry, perseverance, and ingenuity. Here we find arranged in a

JOHN HUNTER. 173

leiriilar order of progressive classification every species of animate being, or link
in the chain of organization, from the louest vegetable, in which life can be
srarcely recognized, up to man ; but no account or description, however minute,
can do adequate justice to such a collection. By his will he left it, under the
discretion of liis executors, to be sold for the benefit of his family, in one entire
lot, to the government of (ircat Britain ; or in case of. refusal, to any other
government or state which would otler such a price for it, as all parties might
consider reasonable. Six years after his death, it was purchased by the British
parliament for fifteen thousand pounds, and given to the College of Surgeons,
on condition that twenty-four lectures should be delivered annually to members
of the college, and that under certain regulations it should be open to the
public. We thus find that, while his elder brother completed a museum which
does honour to the university in which it is preserved, the youngei*, by his in-
dustry and perseverance, completed another, which has been pronounced by the
most competent judges to be an honour to his country. How piactical a lesson
does this aflbrd of the prodigious achievements which may be accomplished by
the sustained perseverance and labours of a single individual!

In personal appearance, John Hunter was much below the ordinary mid-
dle stature; but his body was well formed for muscular exertion, and when
in health he was .always extremely active. His countenance was open, and
although impressed with lines of thought, was by no means habitually severe ;
on tiie contrary, its expression soon softened into tenderness, or became lighted
up by mirth, according as the impression swept across his mind. \\ hen Lavater
saw his print, he said " That man thinks for himself," an opinion which the
whole tenor of his actions will be seen to have verified. An admirable portrait
of him was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, of which a spirited engraving was
executed by 3Ir Sharpe. A bust also of him was modeled by a 31r Bacon,
in tlie modeling of which he was assisted by a cast taken during life. He was
quick in manner, and " in conversation," says Sir Everard Home, " spoke too
freely and harshly of his contemporaries;" but this, we are given to understand,
arose i-athcr from his conviction that surgery was still in its infancy, than from
any uncharitable motive, or wish to depreciate his contemporaries. From almost
the earliest periods in society, medical men have been stigmatized for displaying
the " odium medicum ;" but the fact is, that men educated to the practice of an
art, the principles of which are not cognizable to the public, are apt to treat
with intolerance the pretensions of men who, tbey have reason to know, not-
withstanding they may have crept into a certain degree of favour, are ignorant
perhaps of the most elementary principles of their profession. The observations
of John Hunter, even on casual occasions, were often remarkably pointed, and
si'vnificant of his very acute and discriminating mental powers. On one occasion,
having been heard to express regret that we must all die, a physician present
took advantage of the opportunity to inquire whether it was true that his brother
had in his last moments expressed how " pleasant a thing it is to die ?" to which
he immediately replied, " 'tis poor work when it comes to that," evidently in-
sinuating a doubt as to the moral correctness of any such sentiments, which, as
we have before hinted, we regard as a rash declaration, incompatible with the
sufferings, condition, and mysterious, yet infinitely important prospects of any
man on the brink of that future world, which, seriously regarded, must suggest
reflections of a very difi'erent, and far more solemn nature. Few men were
more generous than John Hunter, and the only fault which can impugn his
memory is, that in executing his designs for the benefit of science, he neglected
too much the interests of his wife and children. It is to be regretted that the

174 JOHN HUNTER.

ambition of beiti"' serviceable to iiiankiiul, slioiild hurry any man away from
the more iinint'<liate consideration of the wants an<l condition of liis own family;
for not all the advantages conferred on jKisterity, nor all the fame that is
triimjtcled abroad in iiis honour, can compensate for a single pang of that
widoweil bosom which, from such neglect, may have to endure tlie keen and
bitter sorrows of unpitied poverty. We say this without disparagement to
the many excellent <]uaiities which distinguished the character of John
Hunter, — a name which will be ever highly esteemed in tlie annals of British
surgery.

We cannot, however, conclude this memoir without pausing to notice more
fully the estimable qualities of the Indy to whom it was his good fortune to be
united. Slie possessed personal attractions of the highest cider; " into what-
ever assembly she entered," says one who appears to have been acquainted with
her, " the delicacy of her face, with the conuuanding grace of her person, gave
her a peculiar air of distinction, and seldom failed to attract attention. I5ut
she never ascribed to her own merit the notice she received in society ; feeling
herself the wife of a celebrated man, she was fond of imputing the attention she
received to the influence of his character ; doing injustice to herself from a
generous pride of owing every thing to him ; and slie never appeared so much
gratified by attention as when she supposed it was shown to her for his sake."*
The same competent authority states, that " during her husband's life they lived
in a liberal and hospitable manner. Mr Hunter was too much devoted to
science to attend much to his worldly affairs, and too careless of money to be
rich. He did not leave his family in affluence, yet so circumstanced that his
widow always supported a most respectable appearance, and was visited by the
first society." We repeat that we do not think that any man's devotion to
science affords the slightest apology or ground of excuse for leaving those to
whom he should be bound by the most sacred ties of attachment, in neglected
circumstances. On the death of her husband, Mrs John Hunter withdrew from
society, and spent her life almost entirely in retirement. After a lingering ill-
ness, which she bore Avith much patience and resignation, she died on 7th
.lanuary, 1821, in the 79th year of her age, leaving behind her a son and
daughter, the former a major in the army, and the latter the widow of general
Campbell, son of the late Sir James Campbell of Inverneil.

Besides her many amiable domestic qualifications, to which all who knew her
bore testimony, she was exceedingly accomplished ; and occasionally during her
husband's lifetime, mingled in society with Horace Walpole, Mrs Carter, Mrs
Vesey, and other characters well known in the literary world. She sang and
played with admirable taste, and had a talent for poetry which she chiefly dis-
played in the produ<;tion of songs and poems, which were characterized by
much refinement of thought, sensibility of feeling, and delicacy of expression.
Among tlie former, " The Son of Alknomook " and ** Queen Mary's Lament,"
became extremely popular ; among the latter, her verses " On November,
1784," a beautiful address to fancy, under the title of " La Douce Chimere,"
with several other minor poems, display nuu;h feeling and imagination.* We
cannot conclude this memoir more appropriately than by transcribing the follow-
ing little poem of hers, not that we have selected it as a spe<;imen of her
general poetical power, but because it was for the first time published in the
Scots Magazine for March, 1821, and may not, on that account, be generally
known : —

■» lli-gister of Dciilhs, Srols MiiKJizino, 1S21.

* She collected her potms and sonjjs and puhlishrd them in n small volume in the year 1806.

DR. JAMES HDTTON. 175

THE LOT OF THOUSANDS.

How many lift the head, look gay, and BDiile,
Against their consciences ?— I'oun^.

When hope lies dead within the licart,

By secret sorrow close concealed,
We shrink, lest looks or words impart

What must not be revealed.

'Tis hard to smile when one could weep,

To speak wlien one would silent be ;
To wake when one should wish to sleep,

And wake to agony.

Yet such the lot by thousands cast.

Who wander in this world of care,
And bend beneath the bitter blast,

To sjive them from despair.

But nature waits her guests to greet,

Where disappointment cannot come ,
And time guides with unerring feet

The weary wanderers home.

HUTTON, (Dr) James, .in eminent philosophical character, was born in
Edinburgh on the 3rd June, 1726. His father was a respectable merchant, who
for many years held the office of city treasurer, and was admired by all who
knew him, for his sound judgment and strict integrity. He died while James
was very youno'; the care, therefore, of her son's education devolved upon Mrs
Hutton, whose great maternal kindness was only exceeded by her desire to give
her son a liberal education. She sent him first to the High school of Edinburgh,
and afterwai'ds to the university, where he entered as a student of humanity in
1740. Professor IM'Laurin was then the most celebrated teacher in that semi-
nary, but though Dr Hutton admired his lectures, he did not seem much disposed
towards the science which he taught. To professor Stevenson's prelections on
logic may be attributed the first direction given to young Hutton's genius, not
so much for having made him a logician, but for having accidentally directed
his mind towards the science of chemistry. The professor having casually men-
tioned in one of his lectures, in illustration of some general doctrine, the fact,
that gold is dissolved in aqua regia, and that two acids, which can each of them
singly dissolve any baser metals, must unite their strength before tiiey can at-
tack the most precious ; the phenomenon struck so forcibly on the mind of
Hutton, that he began to search with avidity after books which might explain
its cause, and afford him an opportunity of pursuing a study altogether new. He
at first found some embarrassments in his pursuit from the superlicial works
that came to his hands, and it was from Harris's Lexicon Techni that he first
derived his knowledge of chemistry^ and which by a sort of elective attraction
drew his mind all at once to a favourite study, that decided his prospects in
life.

Though he pursued his academical studies with closeness and regularity, and
evinced a taste and capacity for instruction, his friends did not see much profit
likely to arise from scientific pursuits, and accordingly persuaded him to adopt
some profession, whi(;h, though much against his inclination, he agreed to, and
was accordingly placed as an apprentice with IMr George Chalmers, writer to
the signet, in 1743. The dry routine of a laborious profession iu a less ardent

176 DU. JAMES HUTTON.

nuiul might have checked, if not for ever destroyed, those seeds of genius which
were as yet s<;arce ciiUed into life ; hut so strong was Mr Mutton's propensity for
scientilic study, tiiat, instead of copying papers, and making himself acquainted
with legal prdcecdings, he wns oftener found amusing himself ^vitll his fellow
apprentices in ciiemical experiments ; so tiiat IMr (Jhalmers was forced to ac-
kno\vle<lge that tiie business of a \vriter was one in which he had little <;hance
to succeed. With a faliierly kindness, he therefore advised young liutton to
embrace some other employment more suitable to his inclinations, and relieved
him at onc^j from the oliligations he came under as his apprentice. How much
is science indebted to that lil)eraliuinded man ! Having now to fix upon another
profession, he selected that of medicine, as being the most nearly allied to
cliemistry, and began to study under Dr (Jeorge Young, and at the same time
attended tlie lectures at the university from 1741' to 1747. The schools of
medicine in Edinburgh at that time had not arrived at the high perfection for
which they are now so justly celebrated, and it was thought indispensably neces-
sary that a physician should finish his education on the continent. Mr Hutton
accordingly proceeded to Paris, where he applied himself closely to anatomy
and cliemistry. After remaining for two years in France, he returned home by
the way of the Low Countries, and took the degree of doctor of medicine at
Leyden in 1749.

On arriving in London, about the end of that year, he began seriously to re-
flect upon his prospects in life, and he soon saw, that however much he wished
to establish himself in his native city as a physician, there were many obstacles
which seemed insurmountable. He was a young man whose merit was unknown,
and whose connexions, though respectable, had no power to assist him, the
business being then in the hands of a few eminent practitioners who had been
long known and established. All this seems to have made a deep impression
on his mind, and he expressed himself with much anxiety on the subject in cor-
responding with his friends in Edinburgh. Amongst these there was one, a
young man nearly of his own age, whose habits and pursuits were congenial
with his own, and with whom he had tried many novel experiments in chemis-
try ; amongst the best was one on the nature and properties of sal ammoniac.
This friend, whose name was James Davie, had, in Mr Hutton's absence,
pushed his inquiries on the subject to a considerable extent ; the result of w hich
atlbrded him a well-grounded hope of being able to establish a profitable manu-
factory of that salt from coal-soot. Mr Davie conununicated the project to his
friend in London, who, with a mind as yet undecided on any fixed pursuit, re-
turned to lulinhurgh in 1750, and abandoning entirely his views on the practice
of medicine, resolved to apply himself to agriculture. What his motives were
for Uiking this step it is ditiicult to ascertain. His father had left him a small
property in Herwickshire, and being of an independent and unambitious mind,
despising avarice and vanity alike, he most probably looked upon the business
of a farmer as entitled to a ])reference above any other. But not being dis-
posed to do any thing in a superficial way, he determined to gain a knowledge
of rural economy in the best school of the day. For this purpose he went into
Norfolk, and took up his residence in the house of a farmer, from whom he ex-
pected to receive sufficient instruction. He appears to have enjoyed his
situation very much, — the natural sinipli(;ity of his <lisposition according well with
the plain, blunt (-haracters around him.

It has been remarked of Dr Hutton, that to men of an ordinary grade of
mind, he appeared to be an ordinary man possessing little more spirit perhaps
than is usually to be met with. Ihis circumstance made his residence in Norfolk
quite agreeable, as even there he could for a time forget his great acquire-

DR. JAMES HUTTON. 177

nieiits, and mingle uilh the simple cliarnctei'S around him, in so cordial a manner,
as lo muke them see nothing in the stranger to set them at a distance from
him, or induce tliem to treat him wiih reserve. In years after, when surrounded
by his literary friends, the philosopher loved to describe the happy hours he
spent while under the humble roof of honest John DyboJd, from whom he had
learned so many good practical lessons in husbandry. From his residence in
Norfolk, he made many journeys on foot through other parts of England to ob-
tain information in agriculture, and it was in the course of these rambles that, )o
amuse himself on the road, he first began to study mineralogy and geology. In
a letter to Sir John Hall of Douglas, a gentleman possessed of much taste for
science, he says, while on his perambulations, " that he was become very fond of
studying the suifa<:e of the earth, and was looking with anxious curiosity, into
every pit, or ditcii, or bed of a river, that fell in his way, and that if he did not
always avoid the fate of T/iales, his misfortune was certainly not owing to the
same cause." This letter was \vritten from Yarmouth in 1753. With the view
of still further increasing his knowledge of agriculture, he set out for Flanders,
wliere good husbandry ^va8 well understood, long before it was introduced into
Britain, and travelling through Holland, Brabant, Flanders, and Picardy, he
returned about the middle of summer, 1754. Notwithstanding all he had seen
to admire in the garden culture that prevailed in Holland, and the husbandry
in Flanders, he says, in a letter to his friend Sir John Hall, from London, " Had
I a doubt of it before I set out, I should have returned fully convinced that they
are good husbandmen in Norfolk." Many observations made on that journey,
particularly on mineralogy, are to be found in his Theory of the Earth. As lie
was now sufficiently initiated in a knowledge of agriculture, he wished to
apply himself to the practice in his own country ; and for that purpose, returned
to Scotland at the end of summer. He at first hesitated on tiie choice of a
situation where he migiit best carry his improved plans of farming into effect,
and at last fixed upon his own patrimony in Berwickshire. From Norfolk he
brought with him a plough and ploughman, who set the first example of good
tillage. It was a novel sight for the surrounding farmers to see the plough
drawn by two horses, without an accompanying driver. The new system was,
however, found to succeed in all its parts, and was quickly adopted, so that Dr
Hutton has the credit of introducing the ne\v husbandry into a country where it
has, since his time, made more rapid improvements than in any other in Europe.
He resided on his farm until the year 176 8, occasionally making a lour into the
Highlands, with his friend Sir George Clerk, upon gealogical inquiries, as he
was now studying that branch of science with unceasing attention

While residing on his farm for the last fourteen years, he was also engaged
in the sal annnoniac work, whicli had been actually established on the founda-
tion of the experiments already made by his friend and himself, but the busi-
ness remained in Mr Davie's name only till 17G5, Avhen a copartnership was
regularly entered into, and the manufactory carried on in the name of both.

As his farm, from excellent management, progressively improved, it became a
more easy task, and to a mind like his, less interesting; so that finding a good
opportunity of letting it to advantage, he did so, and became a resident in
Edinburgh in the year 17()8, from wiiich time he devoted his whole life to
scientific pursuits, 'i'liis change of residence was accompanied with many ad-
vantages he seldom enjoyed before ; — having the entire command of his own
time, lie was enabled to mix in a society of friends whose minds were congenial
with his own ; among whom were Sir George Clerk, his brother 31r Clerk of
Eldin, Dr Black, Mr Kussel, professor of natural philosophy, professor Adam
Ferguson, Dr James Lind, and others. Surrounded by so many emiueut

178 DR, JAMES HUTTON.

charactei-8, by all of whom he was beloved and respected, from the vast fund of
inrorniation lie possessed, he employed his time in maturing- his vie»\s and
searciiing into the secrels of nature Hilh unwearied zeal. In one ot' these ex-
periments he dis(;overed that mineral alkali is contained in zeolite. On boiling
the gelatinous substance obtained from combininof that fossil with muriatic acid,
he found that, after evaporation, tiie salt was formed. Ur IMayfair thinks this
to be the first instance of an alkali being discovered in a stony body. The ex-
periments of 31. Klaprath and Dr Kennedy have confiruied the conclusion, and
led to others of the same kind. With a view of completing his Theory of the
liarth, he made many journeys into dirterent parts of England and Wales, and on
visiting the salt mines of Cheshire, he made tiie curious observations of the con-
centric circles marked on the roofs of these mines, to which he has releried in
his Theory, as affording a proof that the salt rock was not formed from mere
aqueous deposition.

In 1777, Dr Hiitton's first publication was given to the world in the shape of
a pamphlet, on the " Nature, Quality, and Distinctions of Coal and Culm."
This was occasioned by a question \\hich the board of customs and privy coun-
cil wished to have settled, in order to fix on the proportion of duty the one
should bear with the other when carried coastwise. Dr Mutton's pamphlet was
considered so ingenious and satisfactory, that an exemption of the small coal of
Scotland from paying duty on such short voyages was the consequence. He
took a lively interest in promoting the arts of his native country, and devoted
nmch of his time and attention to the project of an internal navigation between
the Firths of Forth and Clyde. He read several papers in the Philosophical
Society, before its incorporation with the Koyal Society, (none of whi(;h were
then published, with the exception of one in the second volume of the Transac-
tions of the Koyal Society,) " on certain natural appearances of the ground on
the hill of Arthur's Seat." His zeal for the support of science in Edinbui"gh
induced him to come forward and communicate to the Royal Society a Sketch
of a Theory of tlie Earth, the perfecting of which had occupied his constant atten-
tion for a period of thirty years, during which time he had never ceased to
study the natural history of the globe, with a view of ascertaining all the changes
that have taken place on its surface, and discovering the causes by \vhi(:h they
have been produced ; and from his great skill as a minei'alogist, and having
examined the great leading facts of geology with his own eyes, and carefully
studied every learned ivork on the natural history of the earth, it must be ac-
knowledged that tew men could enter better prepared on so arduous a task.
As this Theory is so well known, and has been the subject of so much contro-
versy, our limits will not permit us to enter upon it here; we therefore refer our
readers to the book itself.

Dr Kirwan of Dublin, and others, considered Dr Ilutton's Theory both
eccentric and paradoxical, and charged him with presumption in speculating on
subjects to which the mere human understanding is incompetent to reach, while
some gave a preference to the system of Berkeley, as more simple and philoso-
phicjil ; but notwithstanding all the attacks which the new doctrines of Hutton
were subjected to, he had the proud satisfaction of being fortified in his opinions
by many great and good men, who were bound to him by the closest ties of
friendship. Dr lUack, lAIr Clerk of Fldin, and professor J^layfair, as occasion
required, were willing and ready to vindicate his hypothesis. J3ut setting aside
all these considerations, there existed in the wurk itself many faults, which con-
tributed not a little to prevent Dr Hutton's system from making a due impression
on the world. In the opinion of his greatest defender, professor IMayfnir, " It
was proposed too briefly, and with too little detail of facts fur a system which

DR. JAMES HurroN. 179

involved so much that was new and opposite to the opinions generally received.
The description which it contains of the phenomena of geology, suppose in the
render too great a knowledge of tiie things described. The reasoning is some-
times embarrassed by the care taken to render it strictly logical, and tlie tran-
sitions, from the author's peculiar notions of arrangement, are often unex-
pected and abrupt. These defects, run more or less tluougli all Dr liutton's
writings, and pi-oduce a degree of obscurity astonishing to all who knew
him, and who heard liim every day converse, with no less clearness and
precision than animation and force." In tlie same volume of the Transactions
appeared a paper by him, " A Theory of Rain," which he afterwards published
in his " Physical Dissertations." Having long studied meteorology witli gTcat
attention, this ingenious theory attracted almost immediate notice, and was
valued for atfordinga distinct notion of the manner in which cokl acts in causing
a precipitation of humidity. It met, however, from 31. De Luc with a vigorous
and determined opposition ; Dr Hutton defended it with some warmth, and the
controversy was carried on with much sharpness on both sides.

In his observations in meteorology, he is said to be the first who thought of
ascertaining the medium temperature of any climate by the temperature of its
springs. With this view he made a great number of observations in different
parts of Great Britain, and found, by a singular enough coincidence between
two arbitrary measures quite independent of each other, that the temperature of
springs along the east coast of this island varies a degree of Fahrenheit's ther-
mometer for a degree of latitude. This rate of change, thougli it cannot be
general over the whole globe, is probably not far from the trutli for all the
northern parts of the temperate zone. In explaining the diminution of tem-
perature as we ascend in the atmosphere, Dr Hutton was much more fortunate
than any other of the philosophers who have considered the same subject. It is
well known that the condensation of air converts part of tiie latent into sensible
heat, and that the rarefaction of air converts part of the sensible into latent heat ;
this is evident from the experiment of the air gun, and from many othei-s. If,
therefore, we suppose a given quantity of air to be suddenly ti-ansported from
the surface to any height above, it will expand on account of the diminution of
pressure, and a part of its heat becoming latent it will be rendered colder than
before. Thus, also, when a quantity of heat ascends by any means whatever
from one stratum of air to a superior stratum, a part of it becomes latent, so
that an equilibrium of heat can never be established among the strata ; but those
which are less, must always remain colder than those which are more compressed.
This was Dr Hutton's explanation, and it contains no hypothetical principle
whatsoever. After those publications already mentioned had appeared, he
resolved to undertake journeys into different parts of Scotland, in order to ascer-
tain whether that conjunction of granite and schistus, which his theory supposed,
actually took place. His views were first turned towards the Grampians, which
the duke of Athol learning, invited him to accompany him during tiie shooting
season into Glentilt, a tract of country situated under these mountains. On
arriving there, he discovered in the bed of the river Tilt, wliich runs through
that glen, many veins of red granite traversing the black micaceous schistus, and
producing by a contrast of colour an effect that might be striking even to an
unskilful observer. So vivid were the emotions he displayed at this spectacle,
that his conductors never doubted liis liaving discovered a vein of gold or silver.
Dr Hutton has described the appearances at that spot, in the third volume of the
Edinburgh Transactions, p. 79, and some excellent drawing-s of the glen were
made by Mr Clark, whose pencil was not less valuable in the sciences than in
the arts.

180 DR. JAMES HurroN.

He pursued bis observations with unabated ardour, and in the two next years,
with his friend Mr Clark, made several excursions into Galloway, the island of
Arran, and the neighbourhood of Jedburgh. In all of these he discovered
the same conjunction, though not in so complete a manner, as among the Gram-
pians. In iVbS, he made some other valuable observations of tlie same kind.
Tlie ridge of the Laniniermoor hills in the south of Scotland consists of the
Silurian or graywacke formation (then named primary by Hutton, but after-
wards found to belong to the transition series), which extends from St Abb's-head
south-westward to Portpatrick, and into the north of Ireland. The sea-coast at
Eyemouth and St Abb's-head exhibits striking sections of these rocks, which
there appear contorted and dislocated in a remarkable manner. The junction
of the graywacke with the secondary strata was an object of instructive interest
to Hutton. In the same year he accompanied the Duke of Athol to the Isle of
Man, with the view of making a survey of that island. He found the main body
of the island to consist of what he termed primitive schistus (graywacke), much
inclined, and more intersected with quartzose veins than the corresponding rocks
in the south and southeast of Scotland. The direction of these strata corresponded
■with that of the graywacke rocks iu Galloway, running nearly from east to west.
This is all the general information he obtained from that excursion. It was
reserved for later geological researches to determine the true nature and relations
of the Silurian or graywacke series, by means of the fossils which they have been
found to contain, it was not till after Hutton's day that geologists became
palajontological.

Notwithstanding his assiduous attention to geology, Dr Hutton found leisure to
speculate on subjects of a ditferent nature. A voluminous work from his pen made
its appearance soon after the Physical Dissertations: — "An Investigation of the
Principles of Knowledge, and the Progress of Reason, from Sense to Science and
Philosopiiy," in three volumes quarto. In this treatise he formed a general
system of physics and metaphysics. His opinions on the former subjects were
very singulai-. He deprives matter of those qualities which are usually deemed
most essential, solidity, impenetrability, and the vis inerticC. He conceived it to
be merely an assemblage of powers acting variously upon each other, and that
external things are no more like the perceptions they give, than wine is similar
to intoxication, or opium to the delirium it produces. It would be vain in us
to attempt to analyse this singular work, which cannot fail to recall to the mind
the opinions of the ingenious Ur Berkeley; the two systems agree in many mate-
rial points, but dili'er essentially in others.

In deference to the opinions of so great a man as Dr Hutton, we shall inform
our readers of the view taken of the moral tendency of his work by his friend
professor Playfair, who no doubt scrutinized very deeply its metaphysical specu-
lations, as he in part, if not altogether, became a convert of the Huttonian
system. " Indeed," says he, " Mr Hutton has taken great pains to deduce
from his system, in a singular manner, the leading doctrines of morality and natu-
ral religion, having dediiuited the third volinne of his book almost wholly to that
object. It is worthy to remark, that while he is thus employed his style assumes
a better tone, and a much greater degree of perspicuity than it usually possesses.
Many instances might be pointed out, where the warmth of its benevolent and
moral feelings, bursts througii the clouds tiiat so often veil from us the clearest
ideas of his understanding. One, in particular, deserves notice, in which he
treats of the importance of the female cliaracler to society in a state of high
civilization. A felicity of expressicm, and a flow of natural eloquence, inspired
by so interesting a subject, make us regret that his pen did not more frequently
do justice to his thoughts." Ur Hutton was seized with a severe and dangerous

DR. JAMES HUTTON. 181

illness in the summer of 1793, and, although before this time he had enjoyed a
long continuance of good health, such was the painful nature of his complaint
that he was reduced to great weakness, and confined to his room for many
months, where, on his regaining some degree of strength, he amused himself in
superintendinf; the publication of the work just mentioned. During his recovery
he was roused from his quiet into further exertion by a severe attack made on his
Theory of the Karth, by Ur Kirwan, in the Memoirs of the Irish Academy, ren-
dered formidable by the celebrity of the author. Before this period, Dr Hutton
had often been urged to publish the entire work on the Theory of the Earth,
which he had constantly put off — so much so, that there seemed some danger oi
its not appearing in his life-time. The very day, however, after Kirwan's paper
was put in his hands, he began the revisal of his manuscript and resolved imme-
diately to send it to press. The work was accordingly published in two volumes
octavo, in 1795. He next turned his attention to a work on husbandry, on which
he liad written a great deal, the fruit both of his vast reading and practical
experience. He proposed to reduce the whole into a systematic form under the
title of " Elements of Agriculture." The time, however, was fast approaching
which was to terminate the exertions of a mind of such singular activity and
ardour in the pursuit of knowledge. In the course of the winter, 1796, he
became gradually weaker, and extremely emaciated from the pain he suffered from
a recurrence of his former complaint, though he still retained the full activity and
acuteness of his mind. " Saussure's Voyages aux Alps," which had just reached
him that winter, was the last study of one eminent geologist, as tiiey were the
last work of anbther. On Saturday the 26th March, 1797, although in great
pain, he employed himself in writing and noting down his remarks on some
attempts which were then making towards a new mineralogical nomenclature.
In the evening he was seized with shivering fits, and as these continued to increase,
he sent for his friend Dr Russel. Before he could arrive, all assistance was in
vain. Dr Hutton had just strength left to stretch out his hand to the physician,
and immediately expired.

Dr Hutton was possessed of an uncommon activity and ardour of mind, upheld
in science by whatever was new, beautiful, or sublime; and that those feelings oper-
ated with more intense power in early life, may account for the want of stability
he displayed, and the difficulty he felt in settling down to any one fixed pursuit.
Geology and mineralogy were to him two of the most sublime branches of
physical science. The novelty and grandeur offered by the study to the imagina-
tion, the simple and uniform order given to the whole natural history of the
earth, and above all, the views opened of the wisdom that governs the universe,
are things to which hardly any mind could be insensible, but to him they were
matters, not of transient delight, but of solid and permanent happiness.

He studied with an indefatigable perseverance, and allowed no professional,
and rarely any domestic arrangement, to interrupt his uniform course. He
dined early, almost always at home, ate sparingly, and drank no wine. The
evening he spent in the society of friends, who were always delighted and
instructed by his animated conversation, which, whether serious or gay, was
replete with ingenious and original observation. When he sought relaxation
from the studies of the day, and joined the evening party, a brigiit glow of
cheerfulness spread itself over every countenance ; and the philosopher ivho had
just descended from the sublimest speculations in metaphysics, or risen from the
deepest research in geology, seated himself at the tea-table, as mut;h disengaged
from thought, and as cheerful and joyous, as the youngest of the company.

Professor Stewart, in his life of Mr Smith, has alluded to a little society that

182

SIR JAMES INGLIS.

then floiirislietl in Etliiiburgh, called the Oyster Chib. Ot" this, Dr Black, Dr
Huttoii, and .MrSinilli were the foiiiiders. Wlien time and (niportiiiiity admitted,
these disliiiouisiied men could unbend one to the other, and on such ocrasior.s
Dr llutton deiiglited in blending the witty and ludicrous in his conversation.
Round them soon formed a circle of choice spirits, who knew how to value their
familiar and social converse ; and it would be vain to look for a company more
sincerely united, where every thin"- favourable to good society was more per-
fectly cultivated, and every thing opposite more strictly excluded.

Ur llutton was never married, but lived with bis sisters, three amiable women,
who managed his domestic altairs. Though he cared little for money, he had
accumulated considerable wealth, owing to his moderation and unassuming man-
ner of life, as well as from the great ability with which his long-tried friend, 3Ir
Davie, conducted their joint concern, IMiss Isabella Hutton remained to lament
her brother's loss, and by her his collection of fossils were given to Dr Bla<'k,
who presented tiiem to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, under the condition that
they should be completely arranged, and kept for ever apart, for the purpose of
illustrating the Huttonian Theory of the Earth.

INGLIS, or EN'GLISH, (Sir) James, an ingenious writer of tlie early part of
the sixteenth century, is chiefly known as the supposed author of the " C'om-
playnt of Scotland," a very curious political and fanciful work, published ori-
ginally at St Andrews in 1548 or 1549, and the earliest Scottish prose work in
existence.

Of this learned person, Mackenzie has given an account in his Lives of Scottish
Writers ; but it is so obviously made up of a series of mere conjectures stated as
facts, that we must reject it entirely. According to more respectable authority,
Inglis was a dignified priest (which accounts for the Sir attached to his name),
and appears from authentic documents to have been, in 1515, secretary to queen
Margaret, widow of James IV. Care must be taken to distinguish him from
his contemporary J()hn Inglis, who served James IV. as a manager of plays and
entertainments, and who is stated to have been present with Sir David Lindsay
in the church of Linlithgow, when that sovereign was warned by a supposed ap-
parition against his expedition into England. Sir James Inglis was, neverthe-
less, a writer of plays, being the subject of the following allusion in Sir David
Lindsay's Testament of the Fapingo :

" And in the court liin present in thir dajis,
Tliiit l)allatti.s brcvis lustel)', and la) is,
Quiiilkis to our prince daily tliay do present,
tiulio can say more than Schir James English sa\s,
In l)allattis, farcis, and in plcasaunt plaies;
Itedd in cuiiuMig, in practyck r\cht prudent;
Hut Culross lialh made his pen impotent. "

It will be observed that Inglis is liere indirectly spoken of as one of the
poets who haunted the court of James V. Even in the preceding reign, how-
ever, he appears to have been on an intimate footing at court, as a man of
learning. James IV. whose devotion to alchymy is well known, writes a letter
(extant in the " Epistolae Regum Scotoruui,") to Mr James Inglis, to the follow-

THOMAS INNES. 183

iiig- effect : " We have thankfully received your letter, by which you iiiform us
that you are in possession of the abstruse books of the Sound PJdlosopliy ;
which, as certain most descrvinn- persons liave begged tlieni of you, you with
difficulty preserve for our use, iiaving heard tliat we are addicted to the study of
that art." Of the ballads and plays composed by Inglis, not a vestige now re-
mains, unless a poem attributed to him in the IMaitland IMS. and as such printed
by Hailes and Sibbald, entitled " A (General Satire," be held as a specimen of
one of those kinds of composition, and be really a production of his pen.

In a charter of 19th February, 1527, Inglis is styled chancellor of the
royal chapel of Stirling ; and he appears to have been soon after raised to the
dignity of abbot of Culross, a promotion which, if we may believe his friend
Lindsay, spoiled him as a poet. It was eventually attended witii still more i'alal
ellects. Having provoked the wrath of a neighbouring- baron, William lilackater
of Tulliallan, the abbot of Culross was by that individual cruelly slain, March I,
1 530. The causes of this bloody deed do not appear ; but the sensation created
by it throughout the conmmnity was very great. Sir William Lothian, a priest
of the same abbey, who was an accomplice of the principal assassin, was piiblic-
]y degraded on a scaffold at Edinburgh, in presence of the king and queen,
and next day he and the laird of Tulliallan were beheaded.

It would hardly be worth while to advert so minutely to a person, who,
whatever was his genius, is not certainly known as the author of any existing
composition, if the name were not conspicuous in works of Scottish literary
history, and must therefore continue to be inquired for in such compilations as
the present. Inglis, if the same individual as this abbot of Culross, could have
no pretensions to the honour put upon him by some writers, of having written the
" Complaynt of Scotland ;" for that curious specimen of our early literature was
undeniably written in 1548, eighteen years after the death of the abbot. In
the obscurity, however, which prevails regarding the subject of the present
notice, we cannot deny that he may have been a different person, and 7?iay have
survived even to the date assigned for his death by Mackenzie — 1554 ; in which
case he could have been the author of the Complaynt. That a Sir James Inglis
existed after 1530, and liad some connexion with Culi-oss, appears pretty cer-
tain from the passage in the Testament of the Papingo, which is understood to
have been written in 1538. But, on the other hand, there is no authoi-ity for
assigning the authorship of the Complaynt to any Sir James Inglis, except that
of Dr fliackenzie, which rests on no known foundation, and, from the general
character of that biographical writer, is not entitled to much respect. Some
further inquiries into this subject will be found under the head James Wed-

DERBURN.

INNES, Thomas, an historian and critical antiquary, known to the students of
early Scottish history by the title of " Father Innes," was a priest of the Scot-
tish college at Paris, during the earlier part of the 1 8th century. It is not
creditable to the literature of our country during the period just mentioned, that
the meritorious labours of this highly acute investigator have been so little
noticed, and that no one has thought it worth while to leave memorials sufficient
to enable posterity to know any thing of his life and character. His labours to
discover the true sources of Scottish history proved an ungrateful task ; they were
unacceptable to the prejudices of the time, and have hardly been appreciated
until the memory of the individual who undertook them had quietly sunk into
oblivion. In these circumstances any scrap of information «hich \\e can pro-
cure on the subject is peculiarly valuable. We perceive from a fe\v words in
the preface to his Critical Essay, that he received the rudiments of education in
Scotland, and that he must have left his native country early in life for a per-

184 THOMAS TNNES.

raanent residence abroad, probably, it" we may judje from slight circumslan<;es,
along '.vith the exiled monarch James II. His words are — " Though an honour-
able gentleman of my own country, and another le.irned English gentleman,
were so kind as to revise the language, and to alter such exotic words or ex-
pressions as it was natural should drop from nie, I doubt not but the Knglish
reader will still meet in this essay uiih too many marks of my native language
and foreign education.^ But the most interesting, and indeed the principal notice
which we have been able to obtain of this individual, is from the diary of the
industrious \\ odrow for the year 1724, where we find the laborious antiquary
worming his way through libraries in search of materials. It may be remarked,
that the work on the Early History of the Church of Scotland, which is men-
tioned by \\ odrow as the subject on which he was engaged, was intended as a
second part to the " Critical lissay," but has, unfortunately for our information
on a very interesting subject, not been given to the world. The passage we
refer to is as follows : —

" There is one father Innes, a priest, brother to father Innes of the Scottish
college at Paris, who has been at Edinburgh all this winter, and mostly in the
Advocates' library, in the hours when open, looking books and 31SS. He is not
engaged in politics as far as can be guessed; and is a monkish, bookish person,
who meddles with nothing but literature. I saw him at Edinburgh. He is
upon a design to write an account of the first settlement of Christianity in Scot-
land, as 3Ir Kuddiman informs me, and pretends to show that Scotland was
Christianized at first from Rome ; and thinks to answer our ordinary arguments
against tiiis from the dilference between the keeping of easier from the custom
of Rome ; and pretends to prove that there were many variations as to the day
of easter even at Rome, and that the usages in Scotland, pretended to be from
the Greek church, are very agreeable to the Romish customs that he thinks
were used by the popes, about the time that (he) gives account of our dillerences
as to easter.

" This father Innes, in a conversation with my informer, * * * ' made an
observation which I fear is too true. In conversation with the company, who
were all protestants, he said he did not know what to make of those who had
departed from the catholic church ; that as far as he could observe generally,
they were leaving the foundations of Christianity, and scarce deserved the name
of Christians. He heard that there were departures and great looseness in
Holland. That as he came through England, he found most of the bishops there
gone otl'from their articles, and gone into Doctor Clerk's scheme. That the
dissenters were many of them falling much in with the same method, and com-
ing near them. That he was glad to find his countrymen in Scotland not taint-
ed in the great do(;trine of the Trinity, and sound."-

Froin the period when we find him runnnaging in the Advoaites" library, we
know nothing of Innes, until the publication of his essay in 1720, when he ap-
peal's to have been in London, and makes an apology for verbal inaccuracies, on
the ground that he writes " to keep pace with the press." He seems previously
to this event to have performed an extensive " bibliographical tour,' as the
manuscripts he quotes are dispersed through various parts of England, Scotland,
Ireland, and the continent.

A running sketch of the state of the knowledge of early Scottish history pre-
viously to the appearance of this work, may not be unacceptable to those who
have not paid particular attention to that subject, as explanatory of the obstacles
>\hich the author had to overcome. It is well known tliat Scotland had a full

' The name is in a secret hiuid.

' Wodrow's Anolecta, Ms'., Ad. Lib. v. 43<3.

THOMAS INNES, 185

share of the fabulous early history which it is a proud and pleasing f nsk for
savages to frame, and which generally protrudes itself into the knowledge pos-
sessed by civilized ages, from the unwillingness of mankind to diniinisli their
own claims to consideration, by lessening tlie glory of their ancestoi-s. Tlie
form and consistence of tiint genealogy which traced tiie first of Scottish kings
to a period some centuries before the Ciiristian era, seems to have been concocted
by the Highland senadiies, who sang the descent of our monarchs at their
coronation. Andrew Wyntoun and Joiin Fordun soberly incorporat -d the long
line thus framed into tlieir chronicle of the Scottish nation from tiie comnience-
nient of the world. Major followed their example with some variations, and
Geoflry of .Monmouth and GeoU'ry Keating, respectively incorporated the «hole
with English and Irish history, tlie latter much about the same period when
Innes wrote, busying himself with tracing the matter to a period anterior to the
deluge. The rich and grotesque garb of fable which the whole assumed under
Hector Boece is known to many, if not in the original crabbed Latin, at least in
the simple translation of Bellenden. It is discreditable to the memory of
Buchanan, that, instead of directing his acute mind to the discovery of truth, he
adopted, in many respects, the genealogy just sanctioned, and prepared lives fur
the monarchs created by fiction, suited as practical comments on his own politi-
cal views. The fables had now received the sanction of a classical authority —
Scotland was called koi.t' tioyjf.v, " the ancient kingdom ;" and grave English-
men wondered at the hoary antiquity of our line of monarchs. At length, when
the antiquity of the race of England had been curtailed, some thought it unfit
that that of Scotland should remain untouched — and several English antiquaries,
such as Humphry Lhuyd, bishop Usher, bishop Lloyd, and bishop Nicholson,
bestowed some calm liints on its improbability, which were speedily drowned by
tlie fierce replies of the Scottish antiquaries, headed by Sir George M'Kenzie.

Such was the state of historical knowledge in Scotland when Innes wrote; and
a Scotsman dared to look the line of ancestry claimed by his monarch calmly in
the face, and, after due consideration, to strike from it forty crowned heads.
The essay is divided into four parts, in which the author successively treats, —
of the progress of the Romans in Scotland — of the history of the ]Ma?ats, the
Strathclyde Britons or Welsh, who existed in the southern part of Scotland — ot
that of the Caledonians or Picts, who inhabited the whole of the northern por-
tion previously to the arrival of the Scots from Ireland — and of the Scots, the
ancestors of the present Highlanders. Examining the foundation on which
Boece supports his forty supernumerary kings, he shows, by very good negative
evidence, that two chroniclers, on whicli that author lays the burden of much of
his extraordinary matter, named Yeremund and Campbell, never existed, and
shows that the genealogists had, by an ingenious device, made Eergus the first,
king of the Scots, Fergus the second, and had placed another Fergus sufficiently
far behind him in chronology, to admit a complement of kings to be placed be-
twixt the two. Besides the detection of the fabulous part of our history, this
work supplies us with an excellent critical dissertation on the various early in-
habitants of the country ; and the author has, with much pains and care, added
an appendix of original docinuents, which have been highly useful to inquirers
into Scottish history. The language in which the whole is clothed is simple,
pleasing, and far more correct than that of most Scotsmen who wrote during the
same period ; while there is a calm dignity, and a philosophical correctness in
the arguments, previously unknown to tlie subject, and which, it had been well
if those who have followed the same track had imitated. Pinkerton, who would
allow no man to be prejudiced on the subject of Scotland with impunity except

himself, never can mention the work of Innes without some token of respect,
ni. s A.

186

THOMAS INNES.

" This work," he says, " forms a grand epoch in our anli(j'iities, and was
tb.e lirst tlint led the way to rational (Tili<;isiii on tlieni : his iinliistry, coolness,
jud'vnient, and jfoneral accuracy, reconniiend liiiii as tlie best anliijiiary that Scot-
land has yet i>rodiiced."' While conciirrino, iiowever, in any praise ^vhich ^^e
observe to have been elicited by this too much neglected Avork, we must remark,
that it is blemislied by a ptirtion of it beinjr evidently prepared wilU tlie politi-
cal view of supportinij the doctrine of the divine right of kings, which Innes rs
a Jacobite probably respected, and as an adherent of the exiled house, felt him-
self called on to support.^ He is probably right in presuming that Buchanan
knew \\e\i the falsehood of many of the facts he stated, but it was as unnecessary
that he shoidd answer the arguments which Buchanan, in the separate treatise,
" De Jure Kegni apud Scotos," may have been presumed to have derived from
such facts, as it was for Buchanan to erect so great a mass of fable ; while the
dissertation he has given us on the fruitful subject of the conduct of queen 3Iary,
is somewhat of an excrescence in a dissertation on the early inhabitants of Scot-
land.

The political bias of this portion of the work is avowed in the preface, where
the author observes tliat the statements of Buchanan, " far from doing any real
honour to our country, or contributing, as all historical accounts ought to do, to
the benefit of posterity, and to the mutual happiness of king and people, do
rather bring a reproach upon the country, and furnish a handle to turbulent
spirits, to disturb the fjuiet and peace, and by consecjuence the happiness of the
inhabitants ;"^ yet even this subject is handled with so much cahnness that it
may rather be termed a defect, than a fault.

Besides the great work which he wrote, Innes is supposed to have been the
compiler of a book of considerable interest and importance. It is pretty well
known that a manuscript of the life of king James II., written by himself,
existed for some time in the Scots college of Paris, where it was carefully
concealed from observation. This valuable work is believed, on too certain
grounds, to have been reduced to ashes during the French Revolution; but an
abstract of it, which was discovered in Italy, was published by JMr Stanyers
Clarke in 1806, and is supposed by well informed persons to have been the
work of father Innes.'' We have been enabled to trace this supposition to no
better source than a presumption from the circumstances in which Innes was
pla<;ed, and to tiie absence of any other name which can reasonably be assigned.
There is, indeed, a document extant, which might alford ground lor a contrary
supposition. In 1740, Carte, the historian, received an order from James
Edgar, secretary to the i'retender, addressed to the JMessrs Innes, permitting
him to inspect the life writ by Mr Dicconson, in consequence of royal ordera,
all taken out of and supported by the late king's manuscripts; but it has been
urged, on the other hand, that there were at least two copies of the compilation,
one of which may have been transcribed by Mr Dicconson, while in that pub-
lished, there are one or two Scotticisms, which point at such a person as Innes.
Little can be made of a comparison betwixt the style of this work and that of

' Pinkoi ton's Inquiry, fntroiluotion, 55 — 1.

* We faunot avoid coupling with tliis feiiture, the circumslance of our Imvin^ heard it
whispered in the antiquariun world, tiiat a porri.'spondence beiweun Innes and ilie court of 8t
Ce:mains, lately discovered, --liows this to have been the avowed purpose of the auUior. This
we have heard, however, in so viigue a manner, that we dare nut draw any cunclusions against
the fair intentions of Innes, farther than as they may be gathered from his own writings.

* Preface, 16.

* In the Edinburgh Review we discover the following note ; — " It is the opinion of the pre-
gent preserver of the narrative, that it was compiled fiom original douumenls by Thomas
Innes, one of the superiors of the college, and author of ii work entitled ' A Critical Essiiy on
the Ancient Inhabimnts of Sc-olLand.' — AH. on Koi's LiJ'c of James II. Ed. Hev. xii. 280.

CHRISTOPHER IRVINE. 187

tlie essay, wifhout an extremely minute examination, as Innes indulged in few
pecuiiavitics ; but there is to be found in it a general resemblance, certainly more
close than what could be caused by mere identity of period.

We are enabled to give but one other notice beai'ing- on the life of this indi-
vidual. In the portion of the life of James II., transcribed into the clievalier
Ramsay's History of Turenne, there is a certificate by tlie superiors of the Scots
college at Paris, dated 2lth December, 1734, signed by " Louis Inesse, late
principal, Alexander Whiteford, principal, and Tiioinas Inesse, sub-principal."
The Louis Innes who had acted as principal, must be the brother to the historian
mentioned by Wodrow.

IRVINE, Christopher, an antiquary, philologist, and physician, lived in
the seventeenth century, and was a younger son of the family of Irvine of Bon-
shaw in Lanarkshire. Like his relation, who rendered himself infamous in the
cause of royalty by seizing Donald Cargill, Christopher Irvine was a devoted
adherent of the Stuarts and of episcopacy. He was turned out of the college
of Edinburgh in 163S or 1639, in consequence of his resisting the national co-
venant; and by some connexion, the nature of whicii is not known, with the
Irish troubles, which happened not long after, he lost a plentiful patrimony.
Of these circumstances ho himself informs us, in the address appended to one of
his works, as well as of the facts, that " after his travels, the cruel saints were
pleased to mortify him seventeen nights with bread and water ;" and even after
having recalled an act of banishment which they had formerly passed against
him, subjected him to the fate of absolute starvation, with only tlie dubious al-
ternative of " teaching grammai'." Having adopted the latter course, we have
ascertained from another source ^ that he was schoolmaster first at Leith, and af-
terwards at Preston. In the course of his exertions in this capacity, he was led
to initiate his pupils in Scottish history ; and it was out of the information col-
lected for tiiat purpose, along witii some notes he received from 3Ir Alexander
Home and 3Ir Thomas Crawford, formerly professors of humanity in Edinburgh
university, that he compiled his Nomenclature of Scottish History, the work by
which he is best known. Some time during the commonwealth, he appears to
have resumed the profession to which he was bred, and practised first as a
surgeon, and finally as a pliysician in Edinburgh, at the same time that he held
a medi<;al appointment in the army of general Monk, by whicli Scotland was
then garrisoned.

We have not been able to discover any earlier publication of Christopher
Irvine than a small and very rare volume, entitled Bellum Granmsaticale, which
appeared at Edinburgh in 1G50, but of the nature of which, not having seen it,
we cannot s])eak. His second performance was a small volume, now also very
rare, having the following elaborate title : " Medicina Magnetica ; or tlie rare
and wonderful art of curing by sympathy, laid open in aphorisms, proved in con-
clusions, and digested into an easy method drawn from both ; wherein the con-
nexion of the causes and efi"e<;ts of these strange opei'ations, are more fully dis-
covered than heretofore. All cleared and confirmed, by pithy reasons, true
experiments, and pleasant relations, preserved and publislied as a master-piece
in this skill, by C. de Iryngio, chirurgo-medicine in the army. Printed in the
year 1 050." The dedication, whicli is dated from Edinburgh, June 3, 1656,
and is signed " C. Irvine," is addressed to general Monk, as " chief captain of
those forces among whom for diverse years / have served and prospered ;'''' and
speaking of the kindness of the commander toward his inferiors, he continues —
" This is observed by all; this hath been my experience so ot"t as I had need of
lavour and protection." We may from these passages argue, that, at the period
1 Sibbald's Bibliotheca Scotica, MS. Adv. Lib.

188 CHRISTOPHER IRVINE.

when he composed this book, Irvine himself was a man of respectable standing
as to years, and had not found it incoiisistt-nt with his h)yalist principles to take
office under ( !roin\veli. The work itself is a true literary cm-iosity. The mon-
strous and fani-iful doctrines which crowd the pages of Paracelsus and Cardan,
and wliicli iiad be'>un at tliat period to sink before the demand for logical proot
and practical experience, which more accurate minds had made, are here re-
vived, and even exaggerated; while the imagination of the writer seems to have
laboured in all quarters of nature, to discover grotesque absurdities. 'Die book,
it will be remarked, is a treatise on animal magnetism. \\'e would give his
receipt for the method of manufacturing " an animal mignet," did we dare, but
propriety compels us to retain our comments for the less original portion of the
work. The principles of the author, cle omnibus rehuH etquihusdam aliis, are
laid down in '• an hundred aphorisms," which are of such a nature as the fol-
lowing : " Neither souls, nor pure spirits, nor intelligencies can work upon
bodies, but by means of the spirit ; for two extremes cannot be joined together
without a mean, therefore," it is justly and conclusively argued, " demons ap-
pear not but after sacrifices used." — " He that can join a spirit impregnat with the
virtue of one bodie with another, tiiat is now disposed to change, may pnxluce
many miracles and monstei's." — " He that can by light draw light out of things,
or multiply light with light, he knoweth how to adile the universal spirit of life
to the particular spirit of life, and by this addition do wonders," &c. Nor is his
melhod of supporting his aphorisms by proofless original and conclusive. The
rea<lers of Hudibras vvill recollect tiie story taken from Helemont, of the man
who, having lost his nose, procured a new one to be cut from the limb of a por-
ter, on \vhose death the unfortunate nose grew cold and fell off. Tiie reason-
ing of Mr Christopher Irvine on this matter is peculiarly metaphysical. " Is
not," he says, " all our doctrine here confirmed clearer than tlie light? was not
the insititious nose as animated at the first, so still informed with the soul of the
porter? Neither had it any from the man whose nose now it was made, but only
nourishment ; the power of the assimilation which it hath from its proper form,
it took it not from him but from the porter, of whom it was yet truly a part ;
and who dying, the nose became a dead nose, and did immediately tend to cor-
ruption. But who doth not here see, most openly and evidently, a concatena-
tion ? otherwise, how could the nose of one that was at Bolonia, enform the nose
of one that ^vas at Brussels, but by means of a concatenation ?" The curiosity of
the matter, presenting a specimen of the speculations in which several Scottish
philosophers at that period indulged, may excuse these extracts.

The work to which Irvine's name is most frequently attached, is the " His-
toriae Scotic;e Nomenclatura Latino- Vernacula ;" an explanatory dictionary of
the Latin proper names made use of in Scottish history, published at lidinburgh
in 1G82, and re-published in 1819. The editor of the reprint observes, that he
" intended, along with the present edition, to have given the public a short
sketch of the life of the author; but this intention he has been obliged to relin-
quish from want of materials. To numerous enquiries, in many directions, no
satisfactory answer was procured, and the editor mentions >vith regret, that Ins
knows nothing more of this eminent literary character, and profound philologist,
than can be collected from his address to the reader." The dedication is to the
duke of York ; and if we had not been furnished with vast specimens of the ca-
pacity of royal stomachs at that period for flattery, we might have suspected
INIr Christopiier of a little quizzing, when he enlarges on the moderation, the
generosity, the kindness to frionds, the forgiveness to enemies, displayed by the
prince, and espei;ially on his having "so firmly on solid grounds established the
prtitestant religion." Among the otiier eulogiums is one which may be inter-

GILBERT JACK. 189

preted as somewliat apologetical on llie part of the author, in as far as respects
his own conduct. " The neglected sufi'erer for h)yalty is now taken into care
and favour, and they tliat have recovered better principles, are not reproached
nor passed by ; their transgressions are forgot, and time alloived to take off
their evil habit.''^ The Nomenclature is a brief general biographical and to-
pographi(-al dictionary of Scotland. With a firm adherence to the fabulous
early history, the author shows vast genei-al reading ; but, like most authors of
the age, he seems to liave considered Scotland the centre of greatness, and all
other transactions in the world as naturally merging into a connexion >vith it.
Thus in juxtaposition with Argyle, we find " Argivi, Argos, and Arii." And
the Dee is discussed beside the Danube.

From the address attached to this volume, we learn th.it its publication was
occasioned by his recent dismissal from the king's service. " And now," he
says, " being, as it seemeth by a cruel misrepresentation, turned out of my pub-
lic employment and livelyhood, which the defender of the sincere will return, I
have at the desire of the printer, in this interval, revised, &:c." Taking the
dedication in connexion with this circumstance, there can be little doubt as to
the particular object of that composition ; and from another document it would
appear that he was not unsuccessful in his design. An act of parliament, dated
three years later than the publication of the Nomenclature, and ratifying an act
of privy council, which had reserved to Irvine the privilege of acting as a physi-
cian, independent of the College of Physicians of Edinburgh, just established,
proceeds upon a statement by the learned man himself, that " he has been bred
liberally in these arts and places that fit men for the practice of physi<;k and
chirurgery, and has received all the degrees of the schools that give ornament
and authority in these professions, and has practised the same the space of thertie
years in the eminentest places and among very considerable persons in this
island, and has, by vertue of conuuissions from his royal master, exerced the
dutie of cherurgeon of his guards of horse twenty-eight years together, and has
had the charge of chief physician and chirurgeon of his armie.''- He then states,
that he wishes to practise his profession in peace, in the city of Edinburofh, of
which he is a burgess, and hopes the council " would be pleased not to suffer him,
by any new gift or patent to be stated under the partial humors or affkonts of
(a) new incorporation or college of physicians, composed of men that are alto-
gether his juniors (save doctor Hay) in the studies of phylosophie and practise
of physick."

JACK, or JACH.TIUS, Gilbert, an eminent metaphysician and medical
writer, and professor of philosophy at Leyden, was born at Aberdeen, as has
been asserted, (although there seems but slight ground for fixing the date so
precisely,) in the year 1578. Early in life, and apparently before he had com-
menced a regular series of literary study, he lost his father, and was committed
by his motiier to the private tuition of a person named Thomas Cargill. He af-
terwards studied under Robert Howie : and as that individual was made prin-
cipal of 3Ianschal college, on its erection into a university, in 1593, it is pro-
bable that Jack obtained a portion of his university education at Aberdeen,
although he is mentioned by Freher as having studied philosophy at St Andrews,
' Acts of the Scottish parliament, viii. 530-531.

190 GILBERT JACK.

where he was under the tuition of Robert Hay, an eminent theologist. By
the advice of his tutor, wiio j)rob.il)ly deterted in his mind the dawiiings of high
talent, Jac^k coiitiimed ills studies in tlie universities on the continent. He re-
mained for some time at tlie colleges of Herborii and liehustadt; >\lien, incited
by the higii fame of the university of Leyden, lie removed thiiiier, and souglit
employment as a private teacher, in expectation of eventually obtaining a pro-
fessorship. His ambition uas at length gratified, by his ajipointment, in IGO t, to
what has been in general terms <;alled the philosophical cliair of that celebrated in-
stitution. Scotland, which seems to have acquired a pcrnuinent celebrity from the
numerous persevering and ambitious men it lias disjiersed through the world, was
at no time so fruitful in its supply of eminent men as during the life-time of the
subject of our memoir. Adolplius Vorstius, a person known to fame cliiefly
from his tributes to the memory of some eminent friends, and colleague of Jack
in the university of Leyden, in a funeral oration to his memory, from which
the materials for a memoir of Jack are chiefly deri\ed, mentions that at the
peri(xl we allude to, there was scarcely a college in Europe of any celebrity,
which did not number a Scotsman among its professors : and whether from the
meagre tuition in our own universities, or other causes, most of the Scotsmen
celebrated for learning at that period — and they were not a few — began their
career of fame abroad. In the works, or correspondence of the continental
scholars of the seventeenth century, we frequently meet with names of Scotsmen
now forgotten in their native country, and that of Jack frequently occurs, ac-
companied witli many indications of respect. He is said to have been tlie first
who taught mttapliysics at Leyden, a statement from which ^ve may at least
presume, that he opened new branches of inquiry, and was celebrated for the
originality of the system he inculcated. During his professorship at Leyden he
studied medicine, and took his degree in that science in ItJll.

In ltil2, appeared his first work, " Institutiones Thysicfe, Juventutis Lugdu-
nensis Sttidiis i>otissimum dicatae," republished with notes in IGlb. This trea-
tise is dedicated to 31attlie\v Overbeguius (Overheke), and is in the usual manner
prefaced by laudatory addresses, wliich are from the pens of men of celebrity —
Daniel Heinsius, Greek professor of Leyden, (who appropriately uses his pro-
fessional language,) Gaspard Barlaeus, the jirofessor of logic at Leyden, and
Theodore Schrevelius (probably father to the Lexicographer Cornelius). This
work, notwithstanding its title, will be readily understood to be generally
metaphysical, and the portion tending to that species of discussion is that from
which a modern student will derive most satisfaction. It consists of nine books.
The first is introductory, containing definitions, &:c., the second is De Natiira, the
third De 3Iotu, the fourth De Tempore, the fifth De (selo, the sixth De Cor-
pore 3Iisto, the seventh De Meteoris, the eighth De Aniiua, and the ninth De
Anima liationali. Apart from the doctrines now called vulgar errors, for an
adherence to \Nliich the limited bounds of our own knowledge must teach us to
excuse our forefathers, this Avork may be perused with interest and even profit.
To have departed from the text of Aristotle might have been considered equal
in heresy, to a denial of any of the evident laws of nature ; but if Jack was like
others, a mere commentator on the great lawgiver of philosophers, he frequent-
ly clothes original views in correct, clear, and logical language ; his discussions
on lime and motion might not be ungrateful to a student of Hutcheson or Reid ;
and though almost unkno\vn to his country, and forgotten in his native city, he
is no contemptible member of the class of common-sense philosophers of

' Freheri Tbeatrum virorum erudilione clarorum, ii. 1353. Jactis utriusque lingua; fun-
datniiitis, ad aciclemiam An hiajiani ablegatus, philosopJiia operam iiavavit, prectpiore usus
Roberto Havaco Thtologo exifrio.

THOMAS JACK. 191

whom Scotliiiid lias boasted. In 1724, Jack published another work, entitled
" liistitiitioiies Medica;," repiiblislied in 1631. About this period liis celebrity
had reached the Britisii isles; and, like his illustrious friend and comrade Vos-
sius, the author of the History of I'elanianism, he was invited to fill tiie chair of
civil history at Oxford, a proll'er lie declined. This eminent man died on the
17ti» day of Apiil, 1(328, leaving behind him a widow and ten children. He
seems to have been on terms of intimate and friendly familiarity with the
greatest men of the age. He is said to have been a hard student, to have pos-
sessed vast po\\ers of memory, and to have been more attentive to the ele-
gancies of life, and to his personal appearance, than scholars then generally
were.

JACK, or JACHEUS, Thomas, a classic^al scholar of eminence, and author of
the " Onomasticon I'oeticum." The period of the birth of this author is unknown :
Dr M'Orie has with his usual industry made investigations into his history, but
excepting the circumstances to be discovered from the dedi(vition to his work,
none but a few barren facts have been found, which must have ill repaid the
labours of the search. He was master of the grammar school at dlasgow, but at
what period he entered that seminary is unknown. He relinquished the situa^
tion in 1574, and became minister of the neighbouring parish of i'^astwood,
from which, in the manner of the time, he dates his book " ex sylva vulgo dicLi
orientali ;" his work is entitled " Onomasticon Poeticum, sive propriorum quibus
in suis nionumentis usi sunt veteres Poetse, brevis descriptio Poetica ;" it is
neatly printed in quarto, by Waldegrave, 1592, and is now very rare. It may
be described as a versified topographiial dictionary of the localities of classical
poetry, expressing in a brief sentence, seldom exceeding a couple of lines, some
characteristic, which may remind the student of the subject of his readings. He
mentions that he has found the system advantageous by experiment ; and most of
our readers will be reminded of the repeated attempts to teach the rules of
grammar, and other matters necessary to be committed to memory, in a similar
manner. The subject did not admit of much elegance, and the chief merit of
the author will be acknowledged in the perseverance which has amassed so many
references to subjects of classical research, A quotation of the first few lines
may not be unacceptable:

" Caucascus vatos Abaris Ventura profalur,

Argivuin bisscxtus Albas rex, martis in aiin;3
Acer, H} permncstra L)nceoc[ue parentibus onus;
Hinc at Abanliadum series dat jura Pelasgis.
Ex nubc Ixion Centaurum gignit Abantem.
^iieas comitem quo nomine clarus habebat
^gypti ad fines Abates jacet Insula dives :
Quam arcum armavit lino natura tenaci,
Armifera; Tliracis quondam urbs Abdera Celebris."

This passage contains the accounts of Abaris, Abantiadae, Abas, Abates, and
Abdera.

In the dedication, which is addressed to James, eldest son of Claud Hamilton,
connnendatcr of Paisley, a pupil of the author. Jack complacently mentions,
that he had been induced to publish by the recommendation of Andrew iMelviile
and Buchanan, and that the latter eminent person had revised the work, and sub-
mitted to a counter revision of works of his own. Prefixed to the Onomasticon are
encomiastic verses by Robert Pollock, Hercules Pollock, Patrick Sharpe, Andrew
Melville, and Sir Thomas Craig. Dr M'Crie has discovered that Thomas Jack, as
minister of Rutherglen, was one of those who, in 1 5S2, opposed the election ofRo-

192 JAMES I.

bert 3Iontgoniery as archbisliop of Glasgow. He appears to have l>eeii a member
of the General Assemljly in 15!)0; he is mentioned in 1 5'J3, as a minister withiu
the bounds of tlie presbytery of Paisley, and must hare died in 15'J6, as appears
from tlie TesUimeut TesUmentar of " Euphame Wylie, relict of uinquliill 3Ir
Thomas Jak, niin'- at Eastwod."

JAMIiS I., king of Scots, and illustrious both in political and literary historj',
was born at Dunfermline in the year 13'J4. He was the third son of Robert
HI., king of Scots, (ivhose faiher, Robert H., was the first sovereign of the
Stuart family,) by his consort Annabella, or Annaple Drumniond, daughter of Sir
Joiui Drummond of stobhall, ancestor of the noble family of Perth. It appears
tliat John Stuart, for such was the real name of l\obert HI., liad married Anna-
ple Drummond at a period antecedent to the year 135S ; as in 1357, he and his
wife received a charter of the earldom of Athol from David II. 'Ihe unusual
period of thirty-seven years at least, must thus have elapsed between the mar-
riage of the parents and the birth of their distinguished son. Their eldest child,
David, born in 1373, and created duke of Rothesay, was starved to death by his
uncle the duke of Albany in 1402; a second son, John, died in infancy. The
inheritance of the crown was thus opened upon prince James at the age of eight
years, but under circumstances Mhicii rendered the prospect less agreeable than
dangerous. The imbecility of Robert 111. had permitted the reins of govern-
ment to be assumed by his brother the duke of Albany, who meditated a trans-
ference of the sovereignty to his own family, and scrupled at no measures which
might promise to aid him in his object. There was the greatest reason to aj^-
prehend that prince James, as well as his elder brother the duke of Rothesay,
would be removed by some foul means, through the machinations of Albany ;
after which, the existence of the king's female children would present but a
trifling obstacle to his assuming the rights of heir presumptive.

The education of prince James was early confided to Wardlaw, bishop of St
Andrews, the learned and excellent prelate, who, in founding the university in
his metropolitan city, became the originator of that valuable class of institutions
in S(»tland. Sinclair, earl of Orkney, and Sir David Fleming of Cumbernauld,
were among the barons who superintended the instruction of the prince in mar-
tial and athletic exercises. Por the express purpose of saving him from the
fengs of his uncle, it was resolved by tiie king, in 1405, to send him to the
court of Charles VI. of France, where he migiit at once be safer in person, and
receive a superior education to what could be obtained in his own country.
With this view the young prince was privately conducted to East Lothian, and
embarked on board a vessel at the isle of the Bass, along with the earl of Orkney
and a small party of friends. It would appear that he thus escaped his uncle by
a very narrow chance, as Sir David Fleming, in returning from the place of
embarkation, was set upon at Long-Hermandstone by the retainers of that
wicked personage, and cruelly slain.

James pursued his voyage towards France, till, cruising along the coast of
Norfolk, his vessel was seized by a squadron of armed merchantmen, commanded
by John JolylT, and belonging to the port of Clay. Though this event took
place in the time of a truce between the two countries, (April 12, 1405,) Henry
IV. of England reconciled his conscience to the detention of the prince, f«r
which, indeed, it is highly probable he had made some arrangements previously
v.ith the duke of Albany, his faithful ally, and the imitator of his conduct.
When the earl of (Jrkney presented a remonstrance against such an unjustifiable
act, asserting that the education of the prince was the sole object of his voyage
to France, he turned it off with a jest, to the effect, that he was as well ac-
quainted with the French language, and could teach it as well as the king of

JAMES I. 193

France,' so that ilie prince would lose noihing by reiuainiiig where he was.
He soon showed, hoivever, the value Avliich he attached to tiie possession of the
prince's person, by shutting him up in ilio castle of Pevensey in Sussex. The
aged king of Scotland sank under this new calanuty ; and, dying April 4, 140G,
left the nominal sovereignty to his captive son, but the real power of the state to
his flagitious brother, the duke of Albany, wiio assumed the title of governor.

Having no design against the mind of iiis captive, Henry furnished him in a
liberal manner with the means of continuing his education. Sir John Pelliam,
the constable of Pevensey castle, and one of the most distinguished knigiits of
the age, was appointed his governor; and masters were provided for instructing
him in various accomplishments and branches of knowledge. To quote the
words of 3Ir Tytler,- " In all athletic and manly exercises, in the use of his
Aveapons, in his skill in iiorsemanship, his speed in running, his strength and
dexterity as a wrestler, his firm and fair aim as a joister and tourneyer, the
youn<r king is allowed by all contemporary writers to have arrived at a pitch of
excellence which left most of his own age far behind him : and as he advanced
to maturity, his figure, altiiough not so tall as to be majestic or imposing, was,
from its make, peculiarly adapted for excellence in such accomplishments. His
chest was broad and full, his arms somewhat long and muscular, his flanks thin
and spare, and his limbs beautifully formed; so as to combine elegance and
lightness with strength. In tin-owing the hammer, and propelling, or, to use the
Scottish phrase, ' putting ' the stone, and in skill in archery, we have the testi-
mony of an ancient chronicle, that none in his own dominions could surpass
him. * * * To skill in warlike exercises, every youthful candidate
for honour and for knighthood was expected to unite a variety of more
pacific and elegant accomplishments, which were intended to render him a de-
lightful companion in the hall, as the others were calculated to make him a
formidable enemy in the field. The science of music, both instrumental and
vocal ; the composition and recitation of ballads, roundelays, and other minor
pieces of poetry; an acquaintance with the romances and the writings of the
popular poets of the times — were all essential branches in the system of educa-
tion which was then adopted in tlie castle of any feudal chief; and from Pelham,
who had himself been brought up as the squire of the duke of Lancaster, we
may be confident that the Scottish king received every advantage which could
I be conferred by skillul instructors, and by the most ample opportunities of cul-
I tivation and improvement. Such lessons and exhibitions, however, might have
I been thrown away upon many, but James had been born with those natural ca-
I pacities which fitted him to excel in them. He possessed a fine and correct
I nmsical ear; a voice which was rich, flexible, and sufficiently powerful for
chamber music ; and an enthusiastic delight in the art, which, unless controlled
by strong good sense, and a feeling of the higher destinies to which he was
called, might have led to a dangerous devotion to it. * * Cut off for a long
and tedious period from his crown and his people, James could afford to spend
many hours each day in the cultivation of accomplishments to wiiich, under other
circumstances, it would have been criminal to have given up so nmch of his
time. And this Avill easily account for that high musical excellence to which he
undoubtedly attained, and will explain the great variety of instruments upon
which he performed. * * He was acquainted with the Latin language, as
far, at least, as was permitted by the rude and barbarous condition in which it
existed previous to the revival of letters. In theology, oratory, and grannnar —

1 It will be recollected that French was the common language of the court of England, and
of all legid and public business, till the age following th it of Henry IV.

2 Lives of Scottish Worthies, ii. 2G3.

194 JAMES I.

in the civil and canon laws, he }^■ns instructed by the best masters ; and an ao
quaintaiice with Norman-Krench was necessarily acquired at a court where it was
still currently spoken and lii;^hly cultivated. Devoted, however, as lie ^vas to
these pursuits, James appears to have given his mind with a still stronger bias
to the study of Ens^lish poetry, choosinu- (.'haucer and (tower for his masters in
the art, and entering with the utmost ardour into the great object of the first of
these illustrious men — tiie improvement of the English language, the production
of easy and natural rhymes, and tlie refinement of poeiic<il numbers from the
rude compositions which had preceded him."

Thus passed years of restraint, unmarkeil by any other incident than removal
from one place of captivity to another, till the death of Henry IV. in 1414.
On the very day after this event, the " gallant" Henry V. ordered his royal pri-
soner to be removed to close confinement in the Tower. In general, however, the
restraint imposed upon the young king was not inconsistent with his enjoyment
of the pleasures of life, among which one of the most agreeable must have been
the intercourse which he was allowed to hold with his Scottish friends. It is the
opinion of Mr Tytler, that the policy of the English kings in this matter was
niMcli regulated by the terror in ^vhich they held a mysterious person residing
at the Scottish court, under the designation of king Eichard, and uho was the
object of perpetual conspiracies among the enemies of the house of Lancaster. It
is at least highly probable that Albany kept up that personage as a kind of bug-
bear, to induce the English monarch to keep a close guard over his nephew.

The duke of Albany died in 1419, and was succeeded as governor by his
eldest son 3Iurdoch, who was as weak as his father had been energetic and am-
bitious. About the same time, a large party of Scottish knights and their re-
tainers proceeded, under the command of the earl of Buchan, second son of
Albany, to assist the French king in repelling the efforts which Henry Y. of
England was making to gain the sovereignty of France. In the hope, perhaps,
of gaining his deliverance, James was persuaded by king Henry to accompany
him to France, and to join with him in taking the opposite side to that which
was assumed by this party of his subjects. But of this part of his life no clear
account is preserved ; only the consideration which he attained with the English
king is amply proved by his acting (142-2) as chief mourner at his fuatral.
This, however, was an event which he bad little reason to regret, as it opened a
prospect of his obtaining his liberty, a circumstance which would scarcely have
taken place during the life of Henry ; or, at least, while that prince lived, James
could not look forward to any definite period for the termination of his cap-
tivity.

The duke of Bedford, who was appointed protector of England on the death
of Henry, adopting a wiser policy with regard to Scotland than that monarch
had pursued, offered to deliver up the Scottish king on payment of a ransom of
forty thousand pounds, to be paid within six years by half yearly payments, and
that hostages should be given for the faithful liquidation of the debt. The
English, disavowing the terra ransom as derogatory, in this instance, to the na-
tional character and dignity, alleged that the pecuniary consideration was de-
manded as payment of the king's maintenance while in England ; but as Henry
V. allowed only £700 a-year for this purpose, and the term of James's captivity
was about nineteen years, giving thus an amount of something more than
£13,000 altogether, it is pretty evident that they did not intend to be losers by
the transaction — though, as the money was never paid, they certainly were not
gainers. After a good deal of delay, and much discussion on both sides, the ar-
rangement for the liberation of the king was finally adjusted by the Scottish
commissionei-s, who proceeded to London for that purpose, on the Ulh of 3Iarch,

JAMES I. 105

1423 ; and amonjfst otlier securities for the stipulated sum, tendered that of the
burghs of Edinburoli, IVrth, Dundee, and Aberdeen. Previously to his leaving
Enoland, James nmrried .Joanna, daughter of tlie duchess of Clarence, niece of
Richard II. To this lady tiie Scottish monarch had been long attached. Her
beauty had inspired his muse, and uas the frequent theme of his song. Amongst
the poems attributed to the royal poet, there is one, entitled " A Sang on Ab-
sence," beginning " Sen that the eyne that workis my weilfair," in which he
bewails, in strains breathing the warmest and most ardent attachment, the ab-
sence of his mistress ; and in the still more elaborate production of the " King's
Quair," he thus speaks of her : —

" Of liir array, the form gif I sail write
Toward her goldin hairt; and rich al)re,
In fret wise coucliit svith perlis white;
And grete bai;is lemyng as the fire,
With man}' ane emerant and saphire ;
And on liir liide a chaplet fresh of hewe
Of plumys partit rede, and white, and blue.''

In this beautifid poem the enamoured king describes himself as having first
fallen in love with his future queen, as she was walking in the gardeiis
under the tower at Windsor in which he was confined.

It is probable that he lost no time in making his fair enslaver aware of the
conquest she had made, and it is also likely that her walks under the tower were
not rendei'ed less frequent by the discovery. The splendour of Joanna's dress,
as described in this poem, is very remarkable. She seems to have been covered
with jewels, and to have been altogether arrayed in the utmost magnificence ,'
not improbably, in the consciousness of the eyes that were upon her. The
result, at all events, shows that the captive prince must have found means sooner
or later of connnunicating with the fair idol of his affections.

The marriage ceremony was performed at the church of St Clary's Overy in
Southwark ; the king receiving with his bride as her marriage portion, a dis-
charge for ten thousand pounds of his ransom money !

James was in the thirtieth year of his age when he was restored to his liberty
and his kingdom. Proceeding first to Edinburgh, where he celebi'ated the
festival of Easter, he afterwards went on to Scone, accompanied by his queen,
where they were both solemnly crowned ; Slurdoch duke of Albany, as earl of
Fife, performing the ceremony of installing the sovereign on the throne.

Immediately after the coronation, James convoked a parliament in Perth,
and by the proceedings of that assembly, gave intimation to the kingdom of the
connnencement of a vigorous reign. Amongst many other wise and judicious
ordinations, this national council enacted, that the king's peace should be firmly
held, and no private wars allowed, and that no man should travel ^\ith a greater
number of retainers than he could maintain ; that a sufficient administration of
law be appointed throughout the realm ; and that no extortion from churchmen or
farmers in particular be admitted. James had early been impressed with the
necessity of arresting with a vigorous and unsparing hand, the progress of that
system of fraud and rapine to which the country had been a prey during the
regencies that preceded his accession to the throne ; a policy which, perhaps,
though both necessary and just, there is some reason to believe he carried too
far, or at least prosecuted with a mind not tempered by judicious and humane
considerations. When first informed, on his arrival in the kingdom, of the law-
lessness which prevailed in it, he is said to have exclaimed, " Hy the help ot
fiod, though I should myself lead tlie life of a dog, I shall make the key keep

196

JAMES I,

llie castle, and the biisli secure the cow." Than such a resolution as this, nothing
could have been wiser or more praiseworthy, and lie certainly did all he could,
and probahly more than he oiioflit, to a(;conii)lish the desirable end which the
sentiment proposed; l)iit lie seems to liave been somewhat indiscriminatin^ in his
vengeance. 'I'his indiscrimination may he only a])j)arent, and may derive its
character from tiie iiiiiterfectiiess of the history of tiiat period ; but as we judge
of the fifood l)y what is upon record, we are bound to ,ill(l^e of the bad by the
same rule ; and it would be rather a singular mischance, if error and misrepresen-
tation were always and exclusively on the side of the latter. It is, at any rate,
certain, that a remarkable humanity, or any remarkable inclination to the side of
mercy, were by no means amongst the ntunber of James's good cjualities, numer-
ous though these assuredly were. With the best intentions towards the improve-
ment of his king<loni, and the bettering of the condition oi bis subjects, James
had yet the misfurtinie to excite, at the commencement of his reign, a very general
feeling of dissatisfaction with his government.

This, amongst the aristocracy, proceeded from tlie severity with which he
threatened to visit their offences ; and amongst the common people, from his
having imposed a tax to pny the ransom money stipulated for his release from
captivity. This tax Avas proposed to be levied at the rate of twelve pennies in
the pound on all sorts of produce, on farms and annual rents, cattle and grain,
and to continue for two years. The tax was with great difficulty collected
the first year, but in the second the popular impatience and dissatisfaction became
so general and so marked, that the king thought it advisable to abandon it; and the
consequence was, as already remarked, that the debt was never discharged. The
reluctance of the nation to pay the price of their prince's freedom may appear
ungenerous, and as implying an inditl'erence towards him personally ; but titis is not
a necessary, nor is it the only conclusion which may be inferred from the circum-
stance. It is probable that they may have considered the demand of England unrea-
sonable and unjust, and it certainly was both, seeing that James was no prisoner of
war, but had been made captive at a time when the two kingdoms were at peace
with each other. To make him prisoner, therefore, and make him pay for it too,
seems indeed to have been rather a hard case, and such it was probably esteemed
by his subjects. The policy which James proposed to adopt, was not limited to
the suppression of existing evils or to the prevention of their recurrence in time
to come, but extended to the punishing of otlences long since committed, and
of which, in many instances, though we are told the results, we are left unin-
formed of the crime. At the outset of his reign he had ordered the arrest of
Walter, eldest son of. Murdoch, duke of Albany, the late regent, together with
that of Malcolm Fleming of Cuinbernauld, and Thomas Boyd of Kilmarnock ;
and soon afterwards, taking advantage of the circumstance of a meeting of par-
liament at Perth, which he had convoked probably ibr the purpose of bringing
them within his reach, he ordered the arrest of Murdoch himself, his second son,
Alexander Stewart, the earls of Douglas, Angus, and March, and twenty other
gentlemen of note.

The vengeance, however, which gave rise to this proceeding, was followed
out only in the case of Albany ; at least his punishment only is recorded in the
accounts given by our historians of this transaction, while all the others are
allowed to drop out of sight without any further notice of them in connexion
with that event. Indeed the whole of this period of Scottish history is exceed-
ingly obscure ; much of it is confused, inconsistent, and inexplicable, and is
therefore indebtetl almost wholly to conjecture for any interest it possesses, and
perhaps no portion of it is more obscure than that which includes the occurrence
which has just been alluded to. The king's vengeance is said to have been

JAMES I. 197

exclusively aimed at Albany. Then, wherefore the arrest of the others?
Because, it is said tiicy were the friends of the late regent, and might have
defeated the ends of justice had they been left at liberty, or at least might have
been troublesome in the event of his condemnation. But how is this to bo
reconciled with the fact, that several of those arrested with Albany were of the
jury that found him guilty on his trial, which took place a few weeks afierwarda ?
All that we certainly know of this matter, is, that Murdoch was conuuitted a close
prisoner to Carlaveroc castle, while his duchess, Isabella, shared a similar fate
in Tantallon, and that the king inmiediately after seized upon, and took posses-
sion of his Cxistles of Falkland in Fife, and Qowne in Menteith ; tiiat soon after-
wards, Aliiany, with his two sons, Walter and Alexander, together with the aged
earl of Lennox, were brought to trial, condenmed to death, and beheaded. The
principal offence, so far as is known, for on this point also, there is much
obscurity, charged against those unfortunate persons, was their having dilapi-
dated the royal revenues while the king was captive in England. The fate of
the two sons of the regent, who \vere remarkably stout and handsome young
men, excited a good deal of commiseration. The moment their sentence was
pronounced, they were led out to execution. Their father and Lennox were
beheaded on the follo\ving day. The scene of this tragedy was a rising gi-ound
immediately adjoining Stirling castle.

It is not improbable, that circumstances unknown to us may have warranted
this instance of sanguinary severity on the part of the king ; hut it is unfortu-
nate for his memory, that these circumstances, if they did exist, should be
unknown ; for as it now stands, he cannot be acquitted of cruelty in this case,
as well as some others, otherwise than by alleging, that he was incapable of
inflicting an unmerited punishment, — a defence more generous than satisfactory.
The parliaments, however, which James convoked, continued remarkable for the
wisdom of their decrees, for the number of salutary laws which they enacted,
and for the anxiety generally which they discovered for the prosperity of the
kinpdom. Amongst the most curious of their laws is one which forbids any man
who lias accused another, from being of the jury on his trial ! It is not easy to
conceive what were the notions of jin-isprudence which permitted the existence
of the practice which this statute is meant to put an end to. The allowing the
accuser to be one of the jury on the trial of the person he has accused, seems an
absurdity and impropriety too palpable and gross to be apologized for, even by
the rudeness and bai-barity of the times. Another curious statute of this period
enacts, that no traveller shall lodge with his friends, but at the common inn.
The object of this was to encoui-age these institutions, only about this time first
established in Scotland. They seem, however, very soon to have become popular,
as it was shortly afterwards enjoined by act of parliament, that no one should
remain in taverns after nine o'clock at night. This of course was meant only
to apply to those who resided near the spot, and not to travellers at a distance
from their homes.

The subjugation of the Highlands and Isles next occupied the attention of
the stern and active monarch. These districts were in the most lawless state,
and neither acknowledged the authority of the parliament nor the king. With
the view of introducing a better order of things into these savage provinces, and
of bringing to condign punishment some of the most turbulent chieftains, James
assembled a parliament at Inverness, and specially summoned the heads of the
clans to attend it. The summons was obeyed, and about fifty chieftains of
various degrees of note and power arrived at Inverness at the appointed time,
and were all made prisoners ; amongst the rest, Alexander, lord of tiie Isles.
Several of them were instantly beheaded after a summary trial, the others were

198 JAMES L

distributed tlirou^jhout the ditTerent prisons of the kingdom, or kept in ward at
the castles of the mtbility. The greater part of them «ere afterwards put to
death, and the rciuainfler finally restored to liberty. With a degree of cruelty
whicii the case does not seem to \varrant, the countess of iioss, the mother of the
lord of the Isles, was mule a prisoner along witli iier son, and was h<ng detained
in captivity in the island of Inch Combe in tiie I'irth of Forth. Alexander, after
a year's confinement, \vas allowed to return to his own country, on condition that
he would in future refrain from all acts of violence; his mother in the nieau
time being held a hostage for his good conduct.

Equally regardless, liowever, of his promises and the predicament of his
parent, he, soon after regaining his liberty, with a large body of foUowei-s
attacked and burned the town of Inverness. James, to revenge this outrage,
instantly collected an army and marched against the perpetrator, whom he over-
took in the neighbourhood of Lochaber. A battle ensued, in which the lord
of the Isles, who is said to have had an array of ten thousand men under him,
was totally defeated. Humbled by this misfortune, Alexander soon after made
an attempt to procure a reconciliation with the king, but failing in this, he
finally resolved to throw himself upon the mercy of the sovereign. \\ ith tin's
view he came privately to Edinburgh, and attired only in his shirt and drawers,
he placed hiuiself before the high altar of Holyrood church, and on his knees.
in presence of the queen and a number of nobles, presented his naked sword to
the king. For this act of humiliation and humble submission, his life was spared ;
but he was ordered into close confinement in the castle of Tantallon. Some
curious and interesting considerations naturally present themselves wiien contem-
plating the transactions just spoken of. Amongst these a wonder is excited to
find the summons of the king to the fierce, lawless chieftains of the Highlands
so readily obeyed. To see them walk so tamely into the trap \\hich was laid
for them, when they must have known, from the previous character of the king,
that if they once placed themselves within his reach, they might be assured of
being subjected to punishment. Supposing, again, that they were deceived as to
his intentions, and had no idea that he meant them any personal violence, but
were inveigled within his power by faithless assurances ; it then becomes matter
of astonishment, that in the very midst of their clans, in the heart of their own
country, and in the immediate neighbourhood of their inaccessible retreats, the
king should have been able, without meeting with any resistance, to take into
custody and carry away as prisoners, no fewer than fifty powerful chieftains, and
even to put some of them to death upon the spot. This wonder is not lessened
by finding that the lord of the Isles hiuiself could bring into the field ten thou-
sand men, while the greater part of the others could mister from five hundred
to five thousand each ; and it might be thought that, however great was their
enmity to each other, they would have made common cause in such a rase as
this, and have all united in rescuin? their chiefs from the hands of him who must
have appeared their common enemy ; but no such eiVort was made, and liie
whole Highlands as it were looked quietly on and permitted their chief men to
be carried away into captivity. In the mid?t of these somewhat inexplic iMe
considerations, liowever, there is one very evident and remarkable circumstance ;
this is the great power of tlie king, wiiich could thus enable him to enforce so
sweeping an act of justice in so remote and barbarous a part of his kingdom ;
antl perhaps a more striking instance of the existence of that extraordinary power,
and of terror inspired by the royal name, is not to be found in the pages of
Scottish history.

The parliament of James, directed evidently by the spirit of the monarch,
continued from time to time to enact the most salutary laws. In 14-27, it was

JA2JES L 199

decreed, that a fine often pounds should be inijKised upon burgesses who, being
summoned, should refuse to attend parliament, \riihout showing satisfacton* cause
for their ab«*nce ; and in the same year sereral acts were j>assed for the punish-
ment of murder and felony. The fiRt of these acts, however, was repealed in
the following yenr, by introd'jcinw a new feature into the lejnsk.lure of ilie king-
dom. The attendance of small barons or freeholders in parliament \ra5 dispensed
with, on condition that each shire sent two commissioners, Mhose expenses were
to be paid by the freeholders- Another sinsfular decree %ras also passed this
year, enioining the succeKors and heirs of prelates and barons to take an oath
of fidelity to the queen. This «as an unusual proceedioij , but not an unMise
one, as it w^ eridently a provision for the erent of tlie kinj's death, should it
happen durinj the minority of his heir and successor. It did so happen ; and
thoush histon.- is silent on the subject, there is reason to believe that the queen
enjoyed the advantage which the act intended to secure to her.

In the year 142?, James wisely strengthened the Scottish alliance with France,
by betrothinsT his eldest daughter, ^lar^nret, but yet in her infancy, to tlie
da-jphin, afterwards Louis XI., also at this time a mere child. This contract,
however, Mas not carried into effect until the year 1436, when the dauphin had
attained his thirteenth year, and his bride her twelfth. The marriage eventually
proved nn exceedingly unhappy one. Ilie husband of the Scottish princess -.^as
a man of the worst dispositions, and unfortunately there were others about him
no less remarkable for their bad qualities. One of these, Jamet de ^ illy,
impressed him, by tales which were afterwards proven to be fake, with a stispi-
cion of the dauphiness's fidelity. Though innocent, the unhappy^ princess was
BO deeply aflected by the infamous accusations %^!)ich were brought against her,
that she took to bed, and soon after died cf a broken heart, exclaiming before
she expired, " Ah ! Jamet, Jamet, you have gained your pXirpnse ;" such mild
but affecting expressions being all that her liard fate and the malice of her ene-
mies could elicit from the dyin? princess. Jamet Mas afier-.vards proven, in a
legal inTestigation Avhich took place into the cause of the death of 3Iargaret, to
be a " scoundrel" and " common liar." The death of this princess took place
nine years after the marriage, and seven after the death of her father ; m h<^,
had he been alive, would not, it is probable, have permitted the treatment of his
daughter to have passed without some token of his resentment.

The short remaining portion of James's life, either from the defectiveness of
the records of that period, or because they really did not occur, presents us with
few events of any great importance. Amongst those worthy of any notice, are,
a commercial league of one hundred years, entered into between Scotland and
Flanders ; the passing of a sumptuary law, forbidding anv one but lords and
knights, their eldest sons and heirs, from wearing silks and furs : a decrte
declaring all Scotsmen traitors who travel into Enjland without the king's leave.
Another enjoined all barons and lords having lands on the western or northern
seas, particularly those opposite to the islands, to ftimish a certain number of
galleys, according to their tenures : an injunction which was but little attended to.
In 1431, James renewed the treaty of peace with England, then just expiring,
for five y ears. In this year also, a desperate encounter took place at Inverlochy,
between Donald Balloch, and the earis of Mar and Caithness, in which ibe
former was victorious The earl of Caithness, with sixteen squires of his family,
fell in this sanguinarj- engagement. Another conflict, still more deadly, took
place about the same time in Straihnavem, between Angus Ehuf. chief of the
31ackays of that district, and Angus Moray. There were twelve hundred men
OB either side, and it is said, that on the termination of the fight there were
scarcely nine left alive.

200 JAMES I.

.Tamos, in llie mean time, proceeded whh his system of hostility to the
nobles, availing himself of every oj)j>orlunity mIiIcIi presented itself of humbling
them, and of lessening tlieir power. He threw into prison liis own nephews,
the earl of Douglas, and Sir Jolm Kennedy, and procured tl»e forfeiture of the
estates of the earl of fllarch. The reasons for the lirst act of severity are now
unknown. That for the second was, that the earl of iMarch's father had been
engaged in rebellion against the kingdom during the regency of Albany. The
policy of James in arraying himself against his nobles, and maintaining an at-
titude of hostility towards them during his reign, seems of very (juestionable pro-
priety, to say nothing of the apparent character of unmerited severity which it
assumes in many instances. He no doubt found on his arrival in the kingdom,
many crimes to punish amongst that class, and much feudal tyranny to suppress;
but it is not very evident that his success would have been less, or the object
which he aimed at less surely ac(;ouiplished, had he done this willi a more lenient
hand. By making the nobles his friends in place of his enemies, he would as-
suredly have estaidished and maintained the peace of the kingdom still more
e/fectually than he did. They were men, rude as they were, who would have
yielded a submission to a personal alTection for their prince, which they would,
and did refuse to his authority as a ruler. James erred in aiming at governing
by fear, when he should have governed by love. A splendid proof of his error
in this particular is presented in the conduct of his great grand-son, James IV.
who pursued a directly opposite course with x-egard to his nobles, and with
results infinitely luore favourable to the best interests of tlie kingdom. Only
one event now of any moment occurs until the premature death of James ; this
is the siege of Roxburgh. To revenge an attempt which had been made by
the English to intercept his daughter on her way to France, he raised an army
of, it has been computed, two hundred thousand men, and marching into England,
besieged tliecastle of Roxburgh ; but after spending fifteen days before that strong-
hold, and expending nearly all the missive arms in the kingdom, he was com-
pelled to abandon the siege, and to return with his army without having efl'ected
any thing at all connnensurate with the extent of his jtreparations, or the pro-
digious force which accompanied him. The melancholy catastroj)he in which
his existence terminated was now fast approaching, — the result of his own harsh
conduct and unforgiving disposition.

The nobles, wearied out with his oppressions, seem latterly to have been re-
strained only by a want of unanimity amongst themselves from revenging the in-
juries they had sustained at his hands, or by a want of individual resolution to
strike the fatal blow. At length one appeared who possessed the courage neces-
sary for the performance of this desperate deed. This person was Sir Robert
Graham, uncle to the earl of Strathern. He also had been imprisoned by
James, and was tlierefore liis enemy on pei'sonal as well as general grounds.

At this crisis of the dissatisfaction of the nobles, Graham oiVered, in a meeting
of the latter, to stale their grievances to the king, and to demand the redress of
these grievances, provided those who then heard him would second him in so
doing. 'J'he lords accepted his oH'er, and pledged themselves to su])port him.
Accordingly, in the very next parliament Graham rose up, and having advanced
to where the king was seated, laid liis hand upon his shoulder, and said " I ar-
rest you in the name of all the tin-ee estates of your realm here assembled in
parliantent, for as your peo})le have sworn to obey you, so are you constrained
by an equal oath to govern by law, and not to wrong your subjects, but in jus-
tice to maintain and defend them." Then turning round to the assembled
lords, " Is it not thus as I say ?" he exclaimed ; — but the appeal remained unan-
swered. Either awed by the royal presence, or thinking that Graham had gone

JAMES I. 201

too far, tlie lords meanly declined to afford him the support which they had
promised him. That Graham had done a rash thing-, and had said more than
Ills colleagues meant he should have said, is scarcely an apology for their
deserting him as they did in the hour of trial. They ought at least to have af-
forded him some countenance, and to have acknowledged so niu<;i\ of his reproof
as they were willing sliould have been administered ; and there is little doubt
tliat a very large portion of its spirit was theirs also, although tiiey seem to have
lacked the courage to avow it. Graham was instantly ordered into confinement,
and was soon after deprived of all his possessions and estates, and banished the
kingdom. Brooding over his misfortunes, and breathing vengeance against him
who Has the cause of them, the daring exile retired to the remotest parts of tlie
Highlands, and there arranged and perfected his plans of revenge. He first
wrote letters to the king, renouncing his allegiance and defying his wrath, up-
braiding him with being the ruin of himself, his wife, and his children, and
concluded with declaring that he would put him to death with his own hand, if
opportunity should offer. The answer to these threats and defiances was a pro-
clamation which the king immediately issued, promising three thousand demies
of gold, of the value of half an English noble each, to any one who should
bring in Graham dead or alive.

The king's proclamation, however, was attended with no effect. The ob-
ject of it not only remained in safety in his retreat, but proceeded to mature
the schemes of vengeance which he meditated against his sovereign. He
opened a correspondence with several of the nobility, in which he unfolded the
treason which he designed, and offered to assassinate the king with Iiis
own hand.

The general dislike which was entertained for James, and which was by no
means confined to the aristocracy, for his exactions had rendered his govern-
ment obnoxious also to the conuuon people, soon procured for Graiiam a
powerful co-operation ; and the result was, that a regular and deep-laid con-
spiracy, and which included even some of the king's most familiar domestics,
was speedily formed. In the mean time, the king, unconscious of the fate wiiich
was about to overtake him, had removed with his court to Perth to celebrate tlie
festival of Christmas. While on his way thither, according to popular tradition,
he was accosted by a soothsayer, who forewarned him of the disaster which was
to happen him. " My lord king," she said, for it was a prophetess who spoke,
" if ye pass this water," (the Forth) " ye shall never return again alive." Ihe
king is said to have been nmcli struck by tiie oracular intimation, and not the
less so that he had read in some prophecy a short while before, that in that year
a king of Scotland should be slain. The monarch, however, did not himselt
deign on this occasion to interrogate the sootlisayer as to what she meant, but
deputed the task to one of the knights, whom he desired to turn aside and hold
some conversation with her. This gentleman soon after rejoined the king, and
representing the prophetess as a foolish inebriated woman, reconnuended to his
majesty to pay no attention to what she had said. Accordingly no further
notice seems to have been taken of the circumstance. The royal party crossed
tJie water and arrived in safety at Perth ; the king, with his family and domestics,
taking up his residence at tiie Dominicans' or Blackfriars' monastery. The
conspirators, in the mean time, fully inibrnied of his motions, had so far com-
pleted their arrangements as to have fixed the night on which he shriuld be as-
sassinated. This was, according to some authorities, the night of the second
Wednesday of lent, or the 27th day of February ; by others, the first V.'ednes-
day of lent, or bet\veen the twentieth or twenty-first of that month, in the year
14.37 ; and the latter is deemed the more accurate date. James spent the earlier

202 JAMES L

part of the evening in playing chess witli one of liiaknigliU.whoin, for liis remark-
able devotion to the fair sex he humorously nicknamed the King of Love. The
king was in high spirits during the pro<rress of the game, and indulged in a number
of jokes at the expense of his brother king ; but the dark hints which he had
had of his fate, seemed, as it were in spite of himself, to have made an impres-
sion upon liim, and were ahvays present to him even in his merriest moods, and
it was evidently under this feeling that he said — more in earnest than in joke,
though he endeavoured to give it the latter character — to his antagonist in the
game, " Sir King of Love, it is not long since I read a prophecy which foretold
that in this year a king should be slain in this land, and ye know well, sir, that
there are no kings in this realm but you and I. I therefore advise you tc look
carefully to your own safety, for I give you warning that I shall see that mine
is sutHciently provided for." Shortly after this a number of lords and knights
thronged into the king's chamber, and the mirth, pastime, and joke went on
with increased vigour. In the midst of the revelry, however, tlie king received
another warning of ins approaching fate. " 3Iy lord," said one of his favourite
squires, tempted probably by the light tone of the conversation \vhich was going
forward, " I have dreamed that Sir Robert Graham should have slain you."
The earl of Orkney, >vho ^vas present, rebuked the squire for the impropriety of
his speech, but the king, difTerenily affected, said that he himself had dreamed
a terrible dream on the very night of which his attendant spoke.

In the mean time, the night wore on, and all still remained quiet in and
around the monastery ; but at this very moment, Graham, with tliree hundred
fierce Highlanders, was lurking in the neighbourhood, waiting the midnight
hour to break in upon the ill-fated monarch. The mirth and pastime in the
king's chamber continued until supper was served, probably about nine o'clock
at night. As the hour of this repast approached, however, all retired ex-
cepting the earl of Athol and Robert Stuart, the king's nephew, and one of his
greatest favourites, — considerations which could not bind him to the unfortu-
nate monarch, for he too was one of the conspirators, and did more than any
one of them to facilitate the murderous intentions of his colleagues, by destroy-
ing the fastenings of the king's chamber door. After supper the anmsementa of
the previous part of the evening were resumed, and chess, music, singing, and
the reading of romances, \viled away the next two or three hours. On this fatal
evening another circumstance occurred, \\hich might have aroused the suspicions
of the king, if he had not been most unaccountably insensible to the frequent hints
and indirect intimations which he had received of some imminent peril hang-
ing over him. The same woman who had accosted him before crossing the firth
again appeared, and knocking at his chamber door at a late hour of the night,
sought to be admitted to the presence of the king. " Tell him," she said to the
uslier who came forth from the apartment when she knocked, " that I am the
same woman wiio not long ago desired to speak with him when he was about to
cross the sea, and that I have something to say to him." The usher innuediate-
ly conveyed the message to the king, but he being wholly engrossed by the
game in which he was at the instant engaged, merely ordered her to return on
the morrow, " Well," replied the disappointed soothsayer, as she at the first
interview affected to be, " ye shall all cf you repent that I was not permitted
just now to speak to the king." The usher laughing at what he conceived to
be the expressions of a fool, ordered the woman to begone, and slie obeyed.
The night was now wearing late, and the king, having put an end to the
evening's anmsements, called for the parting cup. This drunk, the party broke
up, and James retired to his bed-chamber, where he found the queen and her
ladies amusing themselves with cheerful conversation. Ihe king, now in his

JAMES 1. 203

niffht-gowii and slippers, placed liimself before the fire, and joined in the
badinage which was going forward. At tiiis moment the king was suddenly-
startled by a groat noise cit the outside of his chamber door, or rather in the
passage which led to it. The sounds were those of a crowd of armed men
pressing hurriedly forward. There was a loud clattering and jingling of arms
and armour, accompanied by the gleaming of torches. The hing seems to have
instantly apprehended danger, a feeling which either he had communicated to
the ladies in the apartment, or they had of themselves conceived, for they im-
mediately rushed to the door with the view of securing it, but they found all the
fastenings destroyed, and a bar which should have been tliere removed.

This being intimated to the king, he called out to the ladies to hold fast the
door as well as tiiey could, until he could find something wherewith to defend
himself; and he flew to the window of the apartment and endeavoure<l to wrench
away one of the iron stauiK^hions for this purpose, but tlie bar resisted all his
efforts. In this moment of horror and despair, the unhappy monarch next seized
the tongs, which lay by the fireside, and by their means, and with some desperate
efforts of personal strength, he tore up a portion of the floor, and instantly descend-
ing through the aperture into a mean receptacle which was underneath the cham-
ber, drew the boards down after him to their original position. In the mean time
the ladies had contrived to keep out the conspirators, and, in this etibrt, it is said,
Catharine Douglas had one of her arms broken, by having thrust it into the wall
in place of the bar which had been removed. The assassins, however, at length
forced their way into the apartment ; and here a piteous scene now ensued. The
queen stood in the middle of the floor, bereft of speech and of all power of
motion by her terror, while her ladies, several of whom were severely hurt and
wounded, filled the apartment with the most lamentable cries and shrieks.

One of the ruffians on entering inflicted a severe wound on the queen, and
would have killed her outright, but for the interference of one of the sons of Sir
Robert Graham, who, perceiving the dastard about to repeat the blow, exclaimed
** \\'hat would ye do to the queen ? for shame of yourself, she is but a woman :
let us go and seek the king." The conspirator, who were all armed with
swords, daggers, axes, and other weapons, now proceeded to search for the king.
They examined all the beds, presses, and other pi'obable places of concealment,
overturned forms and chaiis, but to no purpose ; the king could not be found, nor
could they conceive how he had escaped them. The conspirators, baulked in
their pursuit, dispersed themselves throughout the different apartments to extend
their search. This creating a silence in the apartment immediately above the king,
the unfortunate monarch conceived the conspirators had entirely withdrawn, and
in his impatience to get out of his disagreeable situation, called out to the ladies
to bring him sheets for that purpose. In the attempt which immediately followed
to raise him up by these means, Elizabeth Douglas, another of the queen's wait-
ing-maids, fell into the hole in which the king was concealed. At this moment,
Thomas Chambers, one of the assassins, and who was also one of the king's
domestics, entered the apartment, and perceiving the opening in the floor, he
immediately proceeded towards it, and looking down into the cellar, with the
assistance of his torch discovered the king.

On descrying the object of his search. Chambers exulting! y called out to his
companions, " Sirs, the bride is found for whom we sought, and for whom we
have c^aroled here all night." The joyful tidings instantly brought a crowd of
the conspirators to the spot, and amongst the rest. Sir John Hall, who, with a
large knife in his hand, hastily descended to the king's hiding-place. The
latter, however, avIio wns a man of great personal strengtii, iustniitiy seized the
assassin and threw him down at his feet; and his brother, who followed, shared

204:

JAMES I.

tiie same irealiuent — the king holdinir them both by theiv throats, and with such a
powert'ul grasp, that they bi>re luarks of the violence tor a iiiuiith afterwards.
The unfortunate inonarcli now endeavoured to wrest their knives from the assas-
sins, and in the attempt liad his liands severely cut and mangled.

Sir Robert (iraham, wlio had hitherto been merely looking on, now seeing
that the Halls could not accomplish the murder of the kin?, also descended, and
with a drawn sword in liis hand. Unable to cope witli tliem all, and exhausted
with the fenrful struggle which he had maintained with tlie two assassins, wea-
ponless and disabled in his hands, the king implored Graham for mercy.
" Cruel tyrant,'" replied the regicide, *' thou hadsl never mercy on thy kindred
nor on otiiers who fell within thy power, and therefore, thou shalt have no
mercy from rae." " Then I beseech thee, for the salvation of my soul, that thou
wilt permit me to have a confessor," said tlie miserable prince. " Ihou slialt
have no confessor but the sword," replied (jraham, thrusting his victim through
the body with his weapon. The king fell, but the stroke was not instantly fatal.
He continued in the most piteous tones to supplicate men-y from his rn'orderer,
offerino- him half his kingdom if he would but spare his lite. The heart-rending
appeals of the hapless monarch shook even (iraliam's resolution, and he was
about to desist from doing him further injury, when his intentions being per-
ceived by the conspirators from above, they called out to him tb.at if he did not
comp'ete the deed, he should himself sulfer death at their hands. Urged on by
this threat, the three assassins again attacked the king, and linally despatched
him, having inflicted sixteen deadly v.ounds on his chest, besides others on
diflerent parts of his body. As if every circumstance which could facilitate his
death had conspired to secure that event, it happened that the king, some
days before he was murdered, had dii-ected that an aperture in the place where
he had concealed himself, and by which he might have escaped, should be built
up, as the balls with which he played at tennis in the court yard were apt to be
lost in it. After completing the murder of the king, the assassins sought lor the
queen, whom, dreading her vengeance, they proposed to put also to death ; but
she had escaped. A rumour of the tragical scene that was enacting at the
monastery having spread through the to vn, great numbers of the citizens and of
the king's servants, with arms and torches hastened to the spot, but too late, to
the assistance of the murdered monarch. The conspirators, iiowever, all escaped
for the time, excepting one, who was killed by Sir David Dunbar, who had him-
self three fingers cut otf in the contest. This brave knight lud alone attacked
the flying conspirators, but was overpowered and left disabled.

In less than a month, such was the activity of tiie queen's vengeance, all
the principal actors in this appalling tragedy were in custody, and were after-
wards put to the most horrible deaths. Stuart and Chambers, who were the first
taken, were di-awn, hanged, and quartered, having been previously lacerated all
over with sharp instruments. Graham was carried through the streets of Edin-
burgh in a cart, in a state of perfect nudity, with his right hand nailed to .in
upright post, and surrounded with men, who, with sliarp hooks and knives, and
red hot irons, kept constantly tearing at and burning his miserable body, until
be was completely covered with wounds. Having undergone this, he was again
thrown into prison, and on the following day brought out to execution.
The wretched man had, when released from his tortures, wrapped himself in a
coarse woollen Scottish plaid, which adhering to his wounds, caused him much
pain in the removal. '»Vhen this operation was performed, and it w;is done
with no gentle hand, the miserable suiFerer tainted, and fell to the ground with
the agony. On recovering, which he did not do for nearly a quarter of an hour,
he said to those around him, that the rude manner in which the mantle had

JAMES IV. 205

been removed, had given him greater pain than any be had yet suffered. To
increase the horrors of his situation, his son was disembowelled alive before his
face.

James I. perisiied in tiie forty-fourtii year of his age, after an actual reign of
thirteen years. His progeny were, a son, his successor, and five daughters.
These were, 3Iargaret, married to the daupiiin ; Isabella, to Francis, duke of
Brctagne ; Eleanor, to Sigismund, archduke of Austria ; Mary, to tlie count
de Boucquan ; and Jean, to the earl of Angus, afterwards earl of 3Iorton.

JA3IES IV., king of Scots, was the eldest son of James III. by 3Iargaret,
daugliter of Christiern, king of Denmark ; and was born in the month of
March, 1172. Of the manner of iiis education no record has been preserved;
but it was probably good, as his fatlier, wliatever might be his faults, appears to
have been a monarch of considerable taste and refinement. In the year 1488,
a large party of nobles rebelled against James III. on account of various arbi-
trary proceedings with which tliey were displeased ; and the king, on going to
the north to raise an army for their suppression, left his son, the subject of the
present memoir, in the keeping of Shaw of Sanchie, governor of Stirling castle.
While the king was absent, the confederate nobles prevailed on Shaw to sur-
render his charge ; and the prince was then set up as their nominal, but, it
would appear, involuntary leader. The parties met, July II, at Sauchie, near
Stirling ; and the king fell a victim to the resentment of his subjects. The
subject of the present memoir then mounted the throne, in the sixteenth year of
his age.

Neither the pi-ecise objects of this rebellion, nor the real nature of the
prince's concern in its progress and event, are distinctly known. It is certain,
however, that James IV. always considered himself as liable to the vengeance of
heaven for his share, voluntaiy or involuntary, in his father's death ; and ac-
cordingly wore a penitential chain round his body, to which he added new
weight every year ; and even contemplated a still more conspicuous expiation
of his supposed ofl^ence, by undertaking a new crusade. Whatever might be the
guilt of the prince, the nation had certainly no cause to regret the death of James
III., except the manner in which it was accomplished, while they had every
thing to hope from the generous young monarch who was his successor.

James possessed in an eminent degree every quality necessary to render a sove-
reign beloved by his subjects ; and perliaps no prince ever enjoyed so large a
portion of personal regard, of intense affection, as did James IV. of Scotland. His
manner was gentle and affable to all who came in contact with him, whatever might
be their rank or degree. He was just and impartial in his decrees, yet never in-
flicted punishment without strong and visible reluctance. He listened willingly
and readily to admonition, and never discovered either impatience or resentment
while his errors were placed before him. He took every thing in good part,
and endeavoured to amend the faults pointed out by his advisers. He was
generous, even to a fault ; magnificent and princely in all his habits, pursuits,
and amusements. His mind was acute, and dignified, and noble. He excelled
in all warlike exercises and manly accomplishments ; in music, horsemanship,
and the use of sword and spear. Nor was his personal appearance at variance
with this elevated character. His form, which was of the middle size, was ex-
ceedingly handsome, yet stout and muscular, and his countenance had an ex-
pression of mildness and dignity that instantly predisposed all who looked upon
it to a strong attachment to its possessor.

His bravery, like his generosity, was also in the extreme : it was romantic.
Altogether, he was unquestionably the most chivalrous prince of his day in
Europe. A contemporary poet bears testimony to this part of his character : —

206 ja:mes iv.

*' And ye Christian princes, whosoever ye be,
If ye be destitute of a noble Ciiptayne,
Taice James of Sci)tLiiid for his auilacitie
And proved manhood, if ye will laude attavne;
Let liitnhavi; the fui'wanle, have ye nodislayne,
Nor iiuligiiatioii ; for never king was borne
'i'hal of ought of warr can showe the unicorne.

For if that he lake ot.ce his spoare in hand,
Against these Turkes strongly with it to ride,
None shall be able liis stroke for to wiilistande
Nor before his face so hardy to abide ;
Yet this his manhood increaseth not his pride.
But ever shewetli be meknes and hutnililie,
In word or dede, to hj e and lowe degree. "

A neglected education left him almost totally ignorant of letters, but not
without a high relisli for their beauties. He delighted in poetry, and possessed
a mind attuned to all its finer sympathies.

The design of the rebel lords in taking arms against their sovereign, James
III., being merely to free themselves from liis ueak and tyrannical government,
without prejudice to his heirs, his son James IV. was, immediately after the
death of his fatiier, proclaimed king, and \vas formally invested with tiiat dig-
nity at Scone. However violent and unlawful were the proceedings which thus
prematurely elevated James to the throne, tlie nation soon felt a benefit from
the chanife which these proceedings eflected, that could scarcely have been
looked for from an administration originating in rebellion and regicide. The
several parliaments which met after the accession of the young king, passed a
number of wise and salutary laws, encouraging trade, putting down turbulence
and fa<;tion, and enjoining the strict execution of justice throughout the
kingdom.

The prince and his nobles placed tlie most implicit confidence in each other,
and the people in both. This good understanding with the former, the king
encouraged and promoted, by inviting them to frequent tournaments and other
annisements, and warlike exercises, in accordance with his own chivalrous spirit,
and adapted to their rude tastes and habits. These tournaments were exceed-
ingly splendid, and were invested with all the romance of the brightest days of
chivalry. Ladies, lords, and kniglits, in the most gorgeous attire crowded
round the lists, or from draperied balconies, witnessed the combats that took
place within them. James himself always presided on these occasions, and often
exiiibited his own prowess in the lists; and there were few who could success-
fully compete wilii him with spear, sword, or battle axe. Stranger kniglits
from distant countries, attracted by the cliivalric fame of the Scottish court, fre-
quently attended and took part in these tournaments, but, it is said, did not in
many instances prove themselves better men at their weapons than the Scottish
kniglits. One of tlie rules of these encounters ^vas, that the victor sliouid be put
in possession of his opponent's weapon ; but when this was a spear, a piwse of
gold, a gift from the king, was attached to the point of it. These trophies were
delivered to the conqueror by the monarch himself. The people were delighted
with these magnificent and warlike exhibitions, and with their generous and
chivalrous author. Nor were the a<;tors themselves, the nobles, less gratified
witli them, or less affected by the high and princely spirit whence they emanated.
They brought tliem into frequent and familiar contact with their sovereign, and
nothing mi>re was necessary in the case of .lames to attach them warmly and de-
votedly to his person. His kind and allhble manner accomplished the rest.

JAMES IV. 207

By such lueans he was not only without a single enemy amongst the aristo-
cracy, but all of tliem would have siied the last drop of their blood in his
defence, and a day came when nearly all of them did so. In siiort, the ^visest
policy could not iiave done more in uniting the artections of prince and peers,
than was accomplished by those warlike pastimes, aided as they were by the
amiable manners of the monarch.

Not satisHed with discharging his duty to his subjects, from his high place on
the throne, James frecjuently descended, and disguising his person — a practice
to which his successor was also nmch addicted — roamed tlirough tiie country un-
armed and unattended, inquiring into his own reputation amongst the common
people, and endeavouring to learn what faults himself or his government were
charged with. On tiiese occasions he lodged in the meanest hovels, and en-
couragad the inmates to speak tlieir minds freely regarding their king; and
there is little doubt, that, as his (conduct certainly merited it, so he must have
been frequently gratified by their replies. The young monarch, however, was
charged \vith stepping aside occasionally in his rambles from this laudable
though somewhat romantic pursuit, and paying visits to any of iiis fair acquain-
tances whose residence happened to be in his way; and it is alleged that he con-
trived they should very often be so situated.

Unfortunately for his courtiers, James conceived that he possessed, and not
improbably actually did possess considerable skill in surgery and medicine, but
there is reason to believe, that the royal surgeon's interference in cases of ail-
ment was oftener dreaded than desired, although Lindsay says, that " thair
was none of that profession (the medical) if they had any dangerous cure in
hand but would have craved his adwyse." Compliments, however, to a king's
excellence in any art or science are always suspicious, and this of Lindsay's is
not associated with any circumstances which should give it a claim to exemption
from such a feeling.

One of the greatest faults of the young monarch was a rashness and im-
petuosity of temper. This frequently led him into ill-timed and ill-judged hos-
tilities with the neighbouring kingdom, and, conjoined with a better quality,
his generosity, induced him to second the pretensions of the impostor Perkin
\\ arbeck to the crown of Kngland. That adventurer arrived at James's court
(1496), attended by a numerous train of followers, all attired in magnificent
habits, and sought the assistance of the Scottish king to enable him to recover
what he represented as his birth-right. Prepossessed by the elegant man-
ner and noble bearing of the impostor, and readily believing the story of his
misfortunes, which was supported by plausible evidence, the generous monarch
at once received him to his arms, and not only entertained him for some time
at his court, hut, much against the will of his nobles, nuistered an army, and,
with Warbeck in his company, marched at the head of it into England,
to reinstate his protege in what he believed to be his right, at the point
of the s^vord, — a project much more indicative of a warm and generous heart,
than of a prudent head. The enterprise, as might have been expected, was un-
successful. James had counted on a rising in England in behalf of the pre-
tender, but being disappointed in this, he was compelled to abandon the attempt
and to return to Holyrood. The king of England did not retaliate on James
this invasion of his kingdom ; but he demanded from him the person of the im-
postor. Witli this request, however, the Scottish king was nuich too magnanimous
to comply ; and he not only refused to accede to it, but furnished Warbeck with
vessels and necessaries to carry Jiim to Ireland, whither he now proceeded.
James is fully relieved from the charge of credulity which iiiigiit ap))ear to lie
against him fur so readily confiding in Warbeck's representations, by the extreme

208 JAMES IV.

plausibility which was attached to them, and by the strongly corroborative rir-
cumstaiices by which they were attended. He is also as entirely relieved from
the iiiiputalion of conniving in tlie imposture — an accusation wliicli has been
insinuated against him — by tiie circumslaiice of ills having given a near relation
of liis own, Catharine (jordon, a daughter of lord iluiitly's, in marri.ige to the
impostor, which it cannot for a moment be believed he would have done had lie
known the real character of Warbeck.

The species of roving life which the young monarch led, was now about
to be circumscribed, if not wholly terminated, by his entering into the married
state, 'this he avoided as long as he possibly could, and contrived to escape
from it till he had attained the thirtieth year of his age. Henry of England,
however, wIkj had always been more desirous of James's friendship than his hos-
tility, and had long entertained views of securing the former by a matrimonial
connexion with his family, at length succeeded in procuring James's consent to
marry his daughter 3Iargaret, an event which took place in 1503.

Whatever reluctance the monarch might have had to resign his liberty, he was
not wanting in gallantry to his fair partner when she came to claim it. He
first waited upon her at Newbattle, where he entertained her with his own per-
formance on tlie darichords and lute, listened to specimens of her own skill in
the same art on bended knee, and altogether conducted himself like a true and
faithful knight. He also exhibited a rare and elegance in his dress on this oc-
casion, sufficiently indicative of his desire to please. He was arrayed in a black
velvet jacket, bordered with crimson velvet, and furred «ith white; and when
he afierwards conducted his bride from Dalkeith to Edinburgh, which he did,
strange to tell, seated on horseback behind him, he appeared in a jacket of
cloth of gold, bordered with purple velvet, furred with black, a doublet of violet
satin, scarlet hose, the collar of his shirt studded with precious stones and pearls,
with long gilt spurs projecting from tlie heels of his boots.

By the terms of the marriage contract, the young queen, who was only in
her fourteenth year when she was wedded to James, was to be conducted to
Scotland at the expense of her father, and to be delivered to her husband or to
pei-sons appointed by him, at Lauiberton kirk. The latter was to receive with
her a dowry of thirty thousand pieces of gold ; ten thousand to be paid at
Edinburgh eight days after the marriage, other ten thousand at Coldinghani a
year afterwards, and the last ten thousand at the expiry of the year following.
The marriage was celebrated with the utmost splendour and pomp. Feastings,
tourneyings, and exhibitions of shows and plays, succeeded each other in one
continued and uninterrupted round for luany days, James himself appearing in
the lists at the tournaments in the character of the " Savage Knight." But
there is no part of the details of the various entertainments got up on this oc-
casion that intimates so forcibly the barbarity of the times, as the information
that real encounters between a party of Highlanders and Borderers, in which the
combatants killed and mangled each other with their weapons, were exhibited
for the amusement of the spectators.

A more grateful and more lasting memorial of the happy event of James's
nmrriage than any of these, is to be found in Dunbar's beautiful allegori<xil
poem, the " Thistle and the Kose/' composed on that occasion, and thus aptly
and emblematically entitled from the union being one between a Scottish king
and English princess. In this poem, Dunbar, who then resided at the court,
hints at the monarcli's character of being a somewhat too general admirer of the
feir sex, by recommending him to reserve all his affections for his queen.
" Nor hauld no otlier flower in sic deiity

As the frtsche rose, of cullor reid and wliile ;

JAMES IV. 209

For gif thou dois, hurt is tliine honesty,
Considdering that no flower is so perfyt."

It is said to have been at the rude but niagnificeiit court of this monarch, tliat
the ciiaracter ot" a Scottisli courtier first appeared ; tliis class, so iitnuerous at
ail the other courts of Europe, liaving been hitiierto unknown in Scotland. 1 hese
raw courtiers, iiowever, made rapid progress in all the acquirements necessary to
their profession, and began to cultivate all their winning ways, and to pay all
that attention to their exterior appearance, on whi(;h so much of the hopes of the
courtier rests. A finely and largely rutiied shirt, the especial boast and delight
of the ancient Scottish courtier, a flat little bonnet, russet hose, perfumed
gloves, embroidered slippers that glittered in the sun or with candle light, a
handkerchief also perfumed and adorned with a golden tassel at each corner,
with garters knotted into a huge rose at tlie knee — were amongst the most re-
markable parts of the dress of the liangers-on at the court of James IV. In one
important particular, however, these gentlemen seemed to have wonderfully re-
sembled the courtier of the present day. *' Na Kindness at Court without Sil-
ler," is the title of a poem by Sir Kichard Maitland of Lethington, who had
every opportunity of knowing personally what was the character of that of
his native sovereign.

One of the stipulations of the marriage treaty between the king and the
daughter of Henry the VII. ^ having secured an inviolable peace between the two
monarchs and their subjects, the nation enjoyed for several years after that event
the most profound tranquillity. This leisure James employed in improving the
civil polity of his kingdom; in making efforts to introduce civilization, and an
obedience to the laws, into the Highlands and Isles, by establishing courts of jus-
tice at Inverness, Dingwall, and various other places throughout these remote
districts ; in enlarging and improving his navy, and, in short, in doing every
thing that a Avise prince could do to promote the prosperity of his kingdom. In
all these judicious proceedings, James was cordially supported by his parliament,
a department of the legislature in which he was perhaps more fortunate than
any of his predecessors had ever been, and certainly more than were any of his
innnediate successors. The acts of the parliament of James are distinguished
by the most consunnnate wisdom, and by a constant aiming at the improvement
and prosperity of the kingdom, whether by suppressing violence, establishing
rules for the dispensation of justice, or in encouraging commerce ; and they
arc no less remarkable for a spirit of cordiality towards the sovereign, amount-
ing to a direct and personal affection, which breathes throughout the whole.
How much of this good feeling, and of this happy co-operation in good works,
depended upon the king, and how much upon the parliaments themselves, it
would not be easy to determine, but it is certain, that much of the merit which
attaciies to it must be awarded to the sovereign.

This peaceful and prospei'ous state of the kingdom, however, after endurino
for upwards of nine years, at length drew to a close, and finally terminated in
one of the most disastrous events recorded in the pages of her history. Heni-y
VII. died, and was succeeded by Henry VIII, Besides the change which
this occurrence effected in the relationship between the sovereigns of England
and Scotland, the feelings and policy of the new monarch towards the latter
kingdom were totally dissimilar to those of his predecessor. He seems, indeed,
to have brought with him to the throne a feeling of hostility towartls Scotland;
and this feeling, the sensitive, warm tempered, and impetuous monarch, against
(vhom it was entertained, was not long in discovering. The consequence was,
that, after some slight mitual offences, which, under any other circumstances,
might have been easily atoned for war was proclaimed between the two kinff-

111. ' 2 D ' °

210 JAMES IT.

(loins, and both made the most formidable preparations for deciding their dirter-
en<;i's on tiie field of battle. James siinnnoned the whole army of his kingdom^
including all the western isles and the most remote parts of the Highlands, to
assemble on the ]?iirr()\v muir Avithin twenty days, each, as was usual on such ot>
casions, to come provided with forty days' provisions. 'Ihough the impending
war was depre<vued by James's council, and was by all considered imprudent,
yet such was his popularity, such tiie general allection for the high-spirited and
generous monarch, that no less than one hundred thousand men appeared in
arms at the place of muster; disapproving, indeed, of the object for ■which they
were brought together, but determined to shed the last drop of their blood in
their sovereign's quarrel — because it was his, and because he had determined on
bringing it to the issue of the sword. Deeply imbued witli the superstition of
the period, James spent mu(;h of his time, immediately before setting out with his
army, in the perforusance of religious rites and observances. On one of these
occasions, and >vithin a few days of his marching on his expedition, a circum-
stance occurred which tb.e credulity of the times has represented as supernatural,
but in which it is not ditiiiMilt to detect a design to work on the superstitious
fears of the king, to deter him from proceeding on his intended enterprise.
While at his devotions in the church of Linlithgow, a figure, clotlied in a blue
gown secured by a linen girdle and wearing sandals, suddenly appeared in the
church, and calling loudly for the king, passed through the crowd of nobles, by
whom lie was surrounded, and finally approached the desk at which his majesty
was seated at his devotions. Without making any sign of reverence or respect
for the royal presence, the mysterious visitor now stood full before the king,
and delivered a connuission as if from the other world. He told him that his
expedition would terminate disastrously, advised him not to proceed with it, and
cautioned him against the indulgence of illicit amours. Tlie king was about to
reply, but the spectre had disappeared, and no one could tell how. The figure
is represented as having been that of an elderly grave-looking man, with a bald
uncovered head, and straggling grey locks resting on his shoulders. There is
little doubt that it was a stratagem of the queen's, and that the lords who sur-
rounded the king's person were in the plot. Some other attempts of a similar
kind were made to alarm the monarch, and to deter him from his purpose, but
in vain. Neitiier superstition nor the ties of natural artection could dissuade
him from taking the field. Resisting all persuasion, and even the tears and en-
treaties of his queen, who, amongst the other arguments which her grief for the
probable fate of her husband suggested, urged that of the helpless state of theii
infant son ; the gallant but infatuated monarch took his place at the head of his
army, put the vast array in marching order, ai\d proceeded on that expedition
from which he was never to return. The Scottish army having passed the
Tweed began hostilities by taking some petty forts and castles, and amongst the
latter that of Ford; here the monarch found a Mrs Heron, a lady of remarkable
beauty, and whose husband was at that time a prisoner in Scotland. Captivated
by this lady's attractions — while his natural son, the archbishop of St Andrews,
who accompanied him, acknowledged those of her daughter — .lames spent in her
society that time which he should have employed in active service with his army.
The consequence of this inconceivalde folly was, that his soldiers, left unem-
ployed, and disheartened by a tedious delay, gradually withdrew from his camp
and retiuned to their homes, until his army was at length reduced tu little more
than thirty thousand men. A sense of honour, however, still detained in his ranks
all the noblemen and gentlemen who had first joined tliem, and thus a dispro-
portionate number of the aristocracy remained to fall in the fatal field which
was soon afterwards fouglit. In the mean time the earl of Surrey, lieutenant-

JAMES IV. 211

general of the northern counties of England, advanced towards the position oc-
cupied by James's forces, \vitii an army of thirty-one thousand men.

On the 7th of September, 131.3, the latter enciunped at Woolerliaugh, uithin
five miles of Flodden hill, the ground on which the Scottisii army was encamped.
On tbe day following- tiiey advanced to Hanmore wood, distant about two miles
from the Scottish position, and on the 'Jth presented themselves in battle array
at the foot of Flodden hill. The Scottisii nobles endeavoured to prevail upon
the king- not to expose his person in the impending encounter, but he rejected
the proposal with disdain, saying, that to outlive so many of his brave country-
men would be more terrible to him than death itself. Finding- they could not
dissuade him from his pm-pose of sharing in the dangers of the approaching
fight, they had recourse to an expedient to lessen the chances of a fatal result.
Selecting- several persons who bore a resemblan(;e to iiim in figure and stature,
they clothed them in a dress exactly similar to that worn by the monarch, and
dispersed them throughout tiie ranks of the army. The English army, when it
presented itself to the Scots, was drawn up in three large divisions; Surrey
commanding that in the centre. Sir Edward Stanley and Sir Edmund HoAvard
those on the right and left, Avhile a large body of cavalry, commanded by Dacre,
was posted in the rear. The array of the Scots was made to correspond to this
disposition, the king himself leading on in person the division opposed to that
commanded by Surrey, while the earls of Lennox, Argyle, Crawford, fllontrose,
Huntly, and Home, jointly commanded those on his rigitt and left. A body
of cavalry, corresponding to that of Dacre's, under Bothwell, was posted inune..
diately behind the king's division. Having completed tiieir dispositions, the
Scots, with their long spears levelled for the coming strife, descended from the
hill, and were soon closed with the enemy. The divisions connnanded by
Huntly and Home, on the side of the Scots, and by Howard on the side of the
English, first met, but in a few minutes more all the opposing divisions came in
contact with each other, and the battle became general.

The gallant but imprudent monarch himself, with his sword in his hand, and
surrounded by a band of his no less gallant nobles, was seen fighting desperately
in the front of his men, and in the very midst of a host of English bill-men.
After various turns of fortune, the day finally terminated in favour of the
English, though not so decisively as to assure them of their success, for it was
not till the following- day, that Surrey, by finding- tlie field abandoned by the
Scots, ascertained that he had gained the battle. In this sanguinary conflict,
which lasted for three hoiu-s, having commenced at four o'clock in the afternoon
and continued till seven, there perished twelve earls, thirteen lords, five eldest
sons of peers, about fifty gentlemen of rank and family, several dignitaries of
the church, and about ten thousand common men. Amongst the churchmen
who fell, were the king's natural son, the archbishop of St Andrews, Hepburn,
bishop of the Isles, and the abbots of Kilwinning and Inchafiray. James him-
self fell amidst a heap of his slaughtered nobles, mortally Avounded in the head
by an English bill, and pierced in the body with an arrow. It was long be-
lieved by the connnon people that the unfortunate monarch had escaped from
the field, and that he had gone on a pilgrimage to Palestine, where tradition
represented him to have ended his days in prayer and penitence for his sins,
and especially for that of his having borne arms against his fathei*. This belief
was strengthened by a rumour that he had been seen between Kelso and Uunse
after the battle was fought. That he actually fell at F'lodden, however, has
been long since put beyond all doubt, and the fate of his body is singular. It
appears to have been carried to London, and to have been embalmed there, but
by whom or by whose orders is unknown. In the reign of Elizabeth, some

212 JAMES V.

sixty or seventy years afterwards, the shell in which the body was deposited,
and still containing it, was found in a garret amongst a (jiiantity of lumber by a
slater while repairing the roof of a lioiise. The body wtis still perfectly en-
tire, and emitted a pleasant fragrance from the strong aronins \Nliich had been
employed in its preservation. Looking on it as a great curiosity, though un-
aware wiiose remains it was, the slater chopped off the head, carried it home
with him, and kept it for several yeare. Such was the fate of the mortal part
of the noble-minded, the high-souled monarch, .lames IV. of Scotland. He was
in the forty-first year of his age, and the twenty-sixth of his reign, when he fell
on Flodden field.

At tliis distan(;e of time, every thing relating to that celebrated, but calamitous
contest — the most calamitous recorded in the pages of Scottish history — possesses
a deep and peculiar interest ; but of all the memorials which have reached ns of
that fatal event, there is not one perhaps so striking and impressive as the pro-
clamation of tile authorities of Edinburgh. The provost and magistrates were
in the ranks of the king's army, and had left the management of the town's af-
fairs in the hands of deputies. On the day after the battle Avas fought, a
rumour had reached the city that the Scottish army had met with a disaster,
and the following proclamation — the one alluded to — was in consequence is-
sued. The hopes, fears, and doubts whidi it expresses, now that all such feel-
ings i-egarding the event to which it refers have long since passed away, cannot
be contemplated without a leeling of deep and melancholy interest. " The 10th
day of September the year above written, (1513) we do zow to witt. Foras-
meikle as thair is ane giait rumour now laitlie rysin within this toun, touching
oure soverane lord and his army, of the quhilk we understand thair is cum in na
veritie as yet. Quhairfore we charge straitely, and conunandis in oure said
soverane lord the kingis name, and the presidentis fur the provost and bail-
lies within this burgh, th.at all manner of personis, nychtbours within the samyn,
have riddye tliair fensabill geir and wappenis for weir, and compeir thairwith
to the said presidents at jowing of the commoun bell, for the keiping and defense
of the toun aganis thame tliat wald invaid the samin. And als chairgis
that all wemen, and especiallie vagaboundis, that thai pass to thair labouris
and be nocht sene upoun the gait t^lamorand and cryand, under the pane of
banising of thair personis, but favouris, and that the uther women of gude re-
pute pass to the kirk and jtray qidiane tyme requiris for our soverane lord, and
his army and nychtbours being thairat, and bald thame at thair pi-evie labouris
of the gait within thair housis as efleris."

James U'A't behind him only one legitimate child, James V. His natural issue
were, Alexander, born eight months after his father's death, and who died in
the second year of his age ; Alexander, an',hbishop of St Andre\vs ; Catharine,
wedded to the earl of Morton ; James, earl of Murray; fllargaret, wedded to the
heir of Iluntly ; and Jean, married to Malcolm, lord Fleming.

JAIMI'lS V. of Scotland, son of James IV., and of Margaret, eldest daughter
of Henry VII., king of i^lngland, was born at Linlithgow in the month of April,
1512. This prince, on the death of his father, was not more than a year and a
half old. The nation had, tiierefore, to look forward to a long minority, and
to di'ead all the evils whi(;h in these turbulent times were certain to attend a pro-
tracted regency.

Scarcely any event could liave been more disastrous to Scotland, than the
premature death of James IV. The loss of the battle of I'^loddcn, the immense
number of Scottish noblemen and gentlemen \vho fell in that fatal field, were
calamities of no ordinary magnitude ; but tlie death of James himself was more
fatal to the peace and prospeiity of the kingdom than all. By the latter event.

JAMES V. 213

Scotland was thrown open to foreign influence and intrigue, and left to the
ferocious feuds of its own turi)ulent and warlike chieftains, who did not fail to
avail themselves of the opportunity which the death of the monarch afforded
them, of bringing their various private quarrels to the decision of liie sword.
It might have been expected, tiiat tlie overwhelming disaster of Flodden field,
wliich brought grief and mourning into almost every liouse of note in the land
by the loss of some member of its family, would have extinguished, for a time at
least, ail personal animosities between them, and tliat a conmion sympatliy would
have prevented the few that were left from drawing their swords upon each other ;
but it had no such effect. Sanguinary contests and atrocious nmrders daily
occurred throughout the whole country. They invaded each other's territories
with fire and sword, burnetl with indiscriminating vengeance the cottage as ^^ell
as the castle ; despoiled tlie lands of corn and cattle ; and retired only when
driven back by a superior force, Sr when there was notliing more left to destroy
or carry away. For us, who live in so totally different and so nuich happier times,
it is not easy to conceive the dreadful and extraordinary state of matters which
prevailed in Scotland during such periods as tiiat of the minority of James V., when
there was no ruler in the land to curb the turbulence and ambition of its nobles.
In their migrations from one place to another, these proud chieftains were con-
stantly attended by large bodies of armed followers, whom they kept in regula*
pay, besides supplying them with arms and armour. Thus troops of armed men,
their retainers being generally on horseback, were constantly traversing the coun-
try in all directions, headed by some stern chieftain clad in complete armour,
and bent on some lawless expedition of revenge or aggression ; but he <ame thus
prepared as well to the feast as to the fray, for he did not know how soon the
former might be converted into the latter. There existed always a mutual dis-
trust of each other, which kept them in a constant dread of treachery, and no
outward signs of friendship could throw them for a moment ofl' their guard.
Thus they were compelled to have frequent recourse to stratagem to destroy an
enemy ; and numerous instances of the basest and most cowardly assassinations,
accomplished by such means, occur in the pages of Scottish liistory. The num-
ber of armed retainei-s by which the chieftain was attended, was proportioned to
his means. 1 he Douglases are said to have seldom gone abroad with fewer than
fifteen hundred men at arms behind them; and Robertson of Strowan, a chief
of no great note, in the year 1504, was attended by a band of no less than
eight hundred followers when he went to ravage the lands of Athol. The earl
of Angus on one occasion entered Edinburgli with five hundred men in his
train, all " weil accompanied and arrayed with jack and spear," for which they
found sufficient employment before they left the city. Angus had come to
Edinburgli with this formidable force to prevent the success of an attempt which
the earl of Arran, then also in the town, was at that instant making to deprive
the queen dowager of the regency. So soon as Anran got notice that Angus
was in the city, he ordered the gates to be shut to secure him, but unaware, that
he had also shut up with him five hundi-ed well-armed followers. In the
morning some of Angus's friends waited upon him, and informed him of the
measures which Arran had taken for his apprehension, they also told him that
if he did not instantly appear on the open street where he might defend himself,
he would be taken prisoner.

Angus lost no time in buckling on his armour, and summoning his followers
around him. He then formed in battle array, immediately above the Nether-
bow, and after a fruitless attempt on the part of Gavin Dougljis, ar(:hl)isliop of
St Andrews, to prevent bloodshed, the retainers of tiie two hostile noblemen
encountered each other ; and after a sanguinary conflict of long continuance,

214 JAMES V.

on tlie public street, in uliich great numbers were killed and wounded oa both
sides, Arrnn's party gave way, and be biiiiself with diflicully escaped through
the North Loch. 'Ihis encounter was afterwards dislinguisbed by the name of
Cleanse the Causey, from its havinir been fought upon the street or i^iusey.
Such was the condition of Scotland during nearly the whole period of the minor-
ity of James ; and by merely substituting- one noble name for another, and shift-
ing from time to time the serene of their endless sfjuabbles and skirmishes, adding
an interminable and scarcely intelligible story of intrigues, duplicity, and decep-
tion, we have the history of the kingdom for the fifteen years immediately suo
ceeding the battle of Flodden field. During this period, we occasionally (ind the
queen and lier second husband, the earl of Angus, and sometimes the duke of
Albany, cousin of the late king, in possession of the nominal regency. At length
the young monarch comes upon the stage ; and it is not until that event occuis,
that the interest of the story is resumed. It then becomes a connected and
intelligible tale, and is at once relieved of the cumbrous and fatiguing narratioJi
of occurrences, digressive, episodical, and parenthetical, with which it uas pre-
viously disfigured and obscured.

In the mean time, the young monarch, unconscious of the storm that ^vas
raging without, was pursuing his studies in the castle of Edinburgh, where he
had been placed for safety, under the tuition of Gavin Dunbar. '1 he apartments
appropriated to the youthful sovereign in this ancient fortress, seem to have been
in but a very indifferent condition ; his master, Dunbar, though afterwards
refunded, having been obliged to repair, at his own cost, in the first instamie,
the chamber in which the king received his lessons, one particular room having
been set apart for tliat purpose. Indeed, during the whole of Albany's regency,
the Avants of the young monarch seem to have been very little attended to : even
his personal comfort was so much neglected, that it was with great difficulty he
could procure a new doublet or a new pair of hose ; and he at one time must have,
gone without even them, but for the kindness of his natural sister, the countess
of Morton, Avho, from time to time, supplied him with articles of wearing apparel.
The treasurer, too, frequently refused to pay the tailor for the making of his
clothes, when the material instead of the dress happened to be sent him.
Though placed in the castle for security, this consideration does not seem to
have precluded the indulgence of going abroad occasionally. A mule was
kept for him, on which he rode out during the intervals of his study, and when
the town and surrounding country were reckoned sufficiently quiet and peaceftd
to admit of his doing so witli safety. The appearance, character, and temper
of the young monarch during his nonage, are spoken of in warm terms by his
contemporaries. In personal appearance he is said to have borne a strong
resemblance to his uncle llenry Vlll. of England ; who, tyrant though he was,
had certainly a very noble and kingly presence. James's countenance was oval,
of a mild and s\veet expression ; his eyes blue, and beaming at once with gen-.
tleness and intelligence without efi'eminacy ; a head of yellow hair completes
the picture. He was of an exceedingly atfeclionate disposition, and of a gener-
ous though somewhat hasty temper. " There is not in the world," says the
queen his mother, in a letter to Surrey, " a wiser child, or a better-hearted, or
a more able." This is the language of a parent indeed ; but, when corroborated
as it is by other evidence, there is no occasion to suspect it of partiality. James
w.'is about this time in the eleventh or twelfth year of his age. Uitli his other
good qualities he discovered a shrewdness and sagacity superior to his years.
Surrey, speaking of him to Wolsey, says, " he speaks sure, for so young a
thing." The young monarch was mu(;h addicted to all manly sports and exer-
cises, and in all excelled. He rode gracefully, was passionately fond of the

JAMES T. 215

chase, and took mucli delight in hawks, hounds, and all the other appurtenances
beloiiginor to that amusement. He also sang and danced well, and even in liis
boyish years felt much of that " stern joy" which noble minds feel in possessing
and handling implements of war. He was delighted with arms and armour ; and
could draw a sword a yard long before the hilt, when buckled to his side, .is
well as a full grown man. His own weapon was of this length when lie was
only twelve years of age. James was altogether at this period of his life a noble
and princely boy. His amusements were all of a manly character. His mind
was generous and elevated, his niein and carriage gallant and dignified. In
short, imagination cannot conceive a more striking image of a youthful monarch
in a rude and warlike age, than is presented to us in the person and character
of James the V. of Scotland. There is some reastni, however, to believe, that
the royal colt was a little wild, and that he was fully as fond of tilting with the
spear, or making tiie forest of Ettrick ring with his bugle notes, as of studying
his humanities, for his Latinity was found to be sadly defective.

He seems to have kept Stirling castle, the place where he last resided before
assuming the reins of government, in something like an uproar while he lived
in it, with his sports and amusements. He was generally joined in these by his
domestics ; and as they were pretty numerous, we may readily conceive what a
noise and turmoil they would create, led on in their wild and obstreperous frolics
by their bold and lively young leader. Pelting each other with eggs is known to
have been a favourite pastime, and it is one certainly, which must have given
rise to many of the most ludicrous scenes. Although the estates of the kingdom
had fixed the eighteenth year of his age as that which should terminate the
minority of James, and put him in full and uncontrolled possession of the
sovereignty of the kingdom, he was called upon to take bis seat on the throne
at a much earlier period of life.

The lords themselves, whose feuds and quarrels had filled the country with
slaughter and rapine, saw no other way of terminating the frightful scene but by
calling on the king, young as he was, to assume the royal dignity. The
ambition of his mother, who hoped to possess herself of the real power and
authority, also contributed to facilitate the event ; and, accordingly, the boy
king, for he was only twelve years of age, was brought, escorted by a numerous
train of nobles, from Stirling castle to Holyrood house. On first learning the
resolution which the lords had come to of investing him with the royal charac-
ter, he expressed much delight, and seemed filled with the most joyful antici-
pations. " He was weill content," says Lindsay, " to leive correctioun at the
scooles, and pas to his lordis at libertie."

Amongst the first things which the young monarch did on arriving at Holy-
rood, was to change all the ofiicers of the royal household, from the treasurer
down to the carvers. Three noblemen, the earl of Lennox, the lords Hamilton
and Angus, and archbishop Beatoun, were appointed as his guardians and ad-
visers. For a year after his arrival in Edinburgh and assumption of the royal
dignity, the king and his guardians lived happily, and Lindsay says, merrily
together ; but at the end of that period, a " benefice vaiket," a temptation came in
the way, and destroyed the harmony of the association ; each claimed it from the
king, and each thought he had a better right to it tlian his fellow. Angus
said, that he was always scarce of hay and horse corn when he came to Edin-
burgh, and that therefore it should be given to him. The vacant benefice was
attached to Holyrood house. Whether it was the force of this appeal, or the
superior influence of Angus over the royal mind that decided the point, is left
unexplained ; but that nobleman r«irried oft' the prize, to the great disappoint-
ment and displeasure of the other three^ who shortly after retired in disgust

216 JAMES V.

from the court. Lennox, who bad got nothiog at all, retumeil, in despair of
gaining any thing by the royal favour, to his own country : and Hamilton,
though he had procured the abbacy of Paisley for )iis son, iliinking that lie had
not got enough, followed his example. Beatoun, who lived then in a liouse of
his o\»n in the Friar's Wynd, refrained afterwards from going near Uie couit,
but when expressly sent for.

Although James was now placed upon the throne, and surrounded with all
tlie insignia of royalty, he neither of himself assumed nor \tas permitted to as-
sume the functions of the royal stale. He was mucli too younj to be capable
of holding the reins of go\ernment, and there were those around him uho were
not desirous tliat he should. Nor does it appear tliat the youn? monarch cared
much about the matter, so long as he was permitted to enjoy hiniself : and there
is no reason to believe that the defection of his grave guardians sank very deep
into his mind. As the kin? advanced in years, however, this indirTerence to the
power and authority of his elevated station gradually gave ^^ay to tlie natural
ambition of enjoying them ; and he at lenoth determined to rid himself of the
thraldom under \\hich he was kept by the earl of Angus, who had for several
years exercised the royal authority in his name. The house of Douglas, how-
ever, was too powerful, and their influence too extensive, to admit of his ettect-
ing his emancipation by any open effort, he therefore determined to iiave recourse
to secret measures in the first instance.

llie young king was now in the seventeenth year of his age, and when he
carried his desion into execution, was residing at Falkland, a favourite hunting
place of the kings of Scotland. Here he was attended as usual by the earl of
Angus and several of his kindred, all of whom were united in the design of
keeping the king as it were to themselves. A Douglas was captain of his
guard ; a Douglas was treasurer ; and a Douglas was guardian and adviser.
Great numbers of that name, besides, filled subordinate situatiors in the royal
household, and the king's guard, consisting of a hundred gentlemen, were all in
the interest of the eail of .\Dgus and his family. Ihus encompassed, the young
monarch had no other resource than to endeavour to elude their vigilance. He
was under no personal restraint, nor was he debarred from any enjoyment or
amusement with which he chose to occupy himself. On the contrary, they all
led an exceedingly merry and joyous life together ; were almost daily out
huntins: and liawking and feasting with the neighbouring noblemen and gentle-
men, and amongst the rest vsith the archbishop of St Andrews, who entertained the
king and his attendants with great " mirrines" for several days together ; but
it was necessary that a Douglas should always be present on these occasions.
Hunting, liawking, or feasting, still a Douglas must be there. An opportunity
such as the young monarch had long and anxiously looked for of escaping from
tliis annojing surveillance at length presented itself, and he availed himself of it.
The eail of .\ngus left Falkland for a few days, to transact some private business
of his own in the Lolhiaiis, leaving the king in charge of his uncle, Archibald
Douglas, and his brother George. These two, however, availing themselves
probably of the earl's absence, also left the palace on different enrands ; the
former, it is hinted, to visit a mistress in Dundee, and the latter to arrange
some business ^^ilh the archbishop of St Andrews. There wtis still, however, a
fourth left, whom it was necessary tho king should dispose of betbre he could
elTect his escape ; this was James Douglns of Parkhead, the captain of the guard,
to whom the absentees in the last resort had confided the safe keeping of the
young monarch. In order to get rid of him, the king gave out that he intended
to go a-huniing early on tlie tollowing morning, and having sent for James
Douglas to his bed-room, he called for licjuor, and drinking to his guest, re-

JAMES V. 217

marked tliat lie should see good hunting on the morrow. Douglas, little dream-
ing of the equivoque, saw the king safely to bed, and retired to his own by
the advice of his master, much earlier than usual, that he might be up betimes
in the morning, the king having ordered dejeune to be served at four o'clock.
It is not iniprobai)le that his majesty, moreover, had made him take an extra cup
before tliey parted. As soon as all nas cjuiet in tlie palace, the king got up,
disguised himself by putting on the dress of one of his own grooms, and de-
scended to the stables, A\liere " Jockie Hart," a yeoman of the stable, with
anotlier trusty servant, also in the secret, were ready prepared with saddled
liorses for tiie intended flight.

They all three instantly mounted, and escaping all notice from the wardens,
took the road for Stirling at full gallop. On reaching the cnstle, which he did
by break of day, the king ordered the gates to be shut, and that no one should
be permitted to enter without his spe»"ial order. 'Ibis done, he retired to bed,
much fatigued with his long and rapid ride. His escape from Falkland was not
discovered until the following morning, (ieorge Douglas had returned to the
palace at eleven o'<;lock at night, about an hour after the king's departure, but
having learned from the porters that his majesty «as asleep in his own apart-
ment, he, without further inquiry, retired to bed ; and it was not until lie was
roused at an early hour of the morning, by Patrick Carmicliael, baillie of
Abernethy, who had recognized the king in his flight, and who <'anie with all
manner of despatch to inlbrm him of it, that he knew cany thing at all about the
matter. He would not at first believe it, but rushed in great alarm to the king's
chamber, which he found locked, and it was only when he .had burst up the
door and found the apartment unoccupied, that he felt assured of the dreadful
truth. The king must have already acquired some little reputation for that gal-
lantry amongst the ladies which afterwards so much distinguished him, for on
this occasion he Avas at first suspected to have gone oft' on a nocturnal visit to a
lady at Bambrigh, some miles distant from Falkland.

Immediately after his arrival in Stirling, the king summoned a great number
of his lords to join him there, to assist him witli their advice and counsel.
The summons was readily obeyed, both from personal attachment to the king,
and a jealousy and dislike of his late guardian the earl of Angus. In a few
days, James was surrounded with nearly a score of the noblest names in the
land, all ready to perish in his defence, and to assert and maintain his rights at
the point of the sword.

He seems to have resented highly the restraint in which he had been kept
by Angus and his kindred, for it was now, he said, addressing the assembled
lords, " I avow that Scotland shall not hold us both till I be revenged on him
and his." The earl of Angus and all his immediate friends were now put to
the horn, and the former deprived of all his public offices. It is therefore at
this period that the actual reign of James commences, and not before. He was
uow I'reed from the influence of the Douglases, surrounded by his nobles, Axho
jiaid him a ready and willing homage, and was in every respect an independent
and absolute sovereign, capable and at liberty to judge and to act for himself.

James's appearance and character were as interesting as his situation at this
period of his life. He was now, as stated before, in the seventeentli year of his
age, of a robust constitution, which enabled him to encounter any bodily
fatigue. His speech and demeanour were mild and conciliating. His stature
was of middling height, but handsomely formed, and " the fient a pride, nae
pride had he." He spoke at all times affably to the meanest of his subjects,
and would partake of the humblest repast of the humblest peasant in his
dominions, with a glee and satisfaction which evinced the most amiable kindness

218 JAMES Y.

of dispogitinn. These ejualities rendered him exceedingly beloved by the com-
mon people, of «hom he was always besides so steady and effective a friend, as
procured for him the enviable title of Kin^ of the Poor.

Amongst the first cares of James, after his becoming possessed of the actual
sovereismiy of the kingdom, was to subdue the border tliieves and marauders,
who were carrying matters with a high hand, and had so extended their busi-
ness during tiie lawless period of his minority, and so systematized their pro-
ceedings, iliat Armstrong of Kilnockie — the celebrated Johnnie Armstrong of
the well-known old ballad — one of the most noted leaders of these predatory
bands, uever travelled abroad, even on peaceful purposes, without a train of six
and twenty gentlemen well mounted, well armed, and always handsomely dressed
in the gayest and most chivalrous garb of the times. As James, however, knew
that he would have little chance of laying hold of these desperadoes if he sought
them with openly hostile intentions, their predatory habits and intimate know-
ledge of the localities of the country rendering it easy for them to evade any
such attempt, he liad recourse to stratagem. He gave out that he intended to
have a great hunting match on the borders, and really did combine both sport
.ind business in the expedition which followed. .As was usual with the Scottish
kincfs on hunting occasions, he summoned all the noblemen and gentlemen in
the country, who could find it convenient, to attend him with their dogs on a
certain day at Edinburgh, and, what was not so customary, to bring each a month's
victuals along with him. Such a provision was always required when an army
of common men were called tojether, but not in the case of convocations of men
above that rank. The expedition in this case, however, was to be both warlike
and sportive ; and the former might prevent the latter from affording them a
sufficiency of game for their subsistence. Ihe summons of the king for the bor-
der hunting was so willingly obeyed, that a host amounting to twelve thousand
assembled in Edinburgh against the appointed time: and amongst these,
some chiettaii s from very distant parts of tiie countrj', such as Huntly,
Argyle, and .\thol, all of whom brought their large, fierce Highland deer dogs
along with them to assist in the chase. It was in the month of June, 15'29,
tliat this prodigious host of sporlsmen, headed by the king in person, set out to-
wards the borders. The greater pan of them were well armed, and were thus
prepared for any thing that might occur. On all such occasions pavilions, tents,
bedding, &:c for the accommodation of the sportsmen, were despatched some
days previous to the ground selected for the first day's amusement, and were
afleri\ards moved from place to place as the scene of action was shifted. The
king's pavilion was very splendid, and might readily be distinguished from all
others by its superior ricliness and elegance. His dogs, too, were elevated
above all the dogs of meaner men, as well by their extrinsic ornaments as by
their intrinsic merits. Their collars were gilt, or were of purple velvet adorned
with golden studs, while the royal hawks were provided whh collars and
bells of the same metal. The cavalcade having reached .Meggotland, on the
southern border of Peebleshire, a favourite hunting place of James's, and which
was ahvays reserved exclusively for the king's hunting — the sport began, and in
a few days no less tiian three hundred and sixty deer were slain. Soon after
this, .\rinstrong of Kilnockie, little dreaming of the fate that awaited him, made
his appearance among the sportsmen, at a place called Caerlanrig, it is said by
invitation, but whether it was so or not he seems to have calculated on at least a
civil, if not a cordial reception from the king, being in total ignorance of the
real object of the king's visit to the l>orders. Armstrong was not altogether
unreasonable in such an expectation, for his robberies had always been confined
to England, and he ivas rather looked upon as a protector than otherwise by his

JAMES V. 219

own countrymen, none of whose property he was ever known to have meddled
with. He always " quartered upon the enemy,'' and thought that by doing so
he did good service to the state ; but not being consulted in the various treaties
of peace which occasionally took place between the sovereigns of the two king-
donis, he did not always feel himself called upon to recognize them, and accord-
ingly continued to levy his black-mail from the borders, all the way, it is said,
unto Newcastle. 'Jhough the king had made peace witli England, Johnnie
Armstrong had not; and he therefore continued to carry on the war in defiance
of all those treaties and truces to which he was not a party. On this occasion
the daring borderer, expecting a gracious reception from the king, and desirous
of appearing before his sovereign in a manner becoming A\hat he conceived to
be his own rank, presented himself and his retainers, all magnificently ajj-
pareled, before his majesty. The king, who did not know him personally, at
first mistook him for some powerful nobleman, and returned his salute ; but on
learning his name, he instantly ordered him and all his followers to be taken
into custody and hanged upon the spot. " What wants that knave that a king
should have," exclaimed James, indignantly struck with the splendour of Arm-
strong's and his followers' equipments, and, at the same time, turning round
from them on his heel as he spoke. The freebooter at first pled hard for his
life, and endeavoured to bribe the king to spare him. He oflered his own ser-
vices and that of forty men at any time, when the king should require it, free of
all expense to his majesty. He further offered to bring to him any subject of
England — duke, earl, lord, or baron, against any given day, either dead or
alive, whom his majesty might desire either to destroy or to have as a captive.
Finding that all he could say and all he could offer had no effect in moving the
king from his determination, the bold borderer, seeing the die was cast, and
bis fate sealed, instantly resumed the natural intrepidity of his character, —
" I am but a fool," he said, raising himself proudly up, " to look for grace in a
graceless face. But had 1 known, sir, that you would have taken my life this
day, I should have lived upon the borders in despite of both king Henry and
you ; and I know that the king of I"]ngland would down-weigh my best horse
with gold to be assured that I was to die this day." No further colloquy took
place ; Armstrong and all his followers were led off to instant execution. A
popular tradition of the borders, where his death was much regretted, says, that
the tree on which Armstrong was executed, though it continued to vegetate,
never again put forth leaves. After subjecting several other notorious offenders
to a similar fate, the king returned to Edinburgh on the 24th of July. In the
following summer, he set out upon a similar expedition to the north, with that
which he had conducted to the south, and for similar purposes — at once to en-
joy the pleasures of the chase and to bring to justice the lUinierous and daring
thieves and robbers with which the country was infested.

This practice of converting the amusement of hunting into a means of dis-
pensing justice throughout the kingdom, was one to which James had often re-
course, for on these occasions he took care always to be attended with an armed
force, sufficiently strong to enforce the laws against the most powerful infringer;
and he did not spare them when within his reach. For thieves and robbers he
had no compassion ; common doom awaited them all, whatever might be their
rank or pretensions. In this particular he was stern and indexible to the last
degree ; and the times required it. 'I'here was no part of his policy more bene-
ficial to the kingdom than the resolute, incessant, and relentless war which he
waged against all marauders and plunderers.

On the expedition whi<;h he now undertook to the north, he was accompanied
by the queen mother, and the papal ambassador, then at the Scottish court. The

220 JAMES V.

earl of Athol, to whose country the royal party proposed first proceeding, hav-
ing received intelligence of the visit uliicii he niiglit expect, made the most
splendid preparation for their reception. On the aiTival of the illustrious
visitors, they found a magnificent palace, constructed of boughs of trees, and
fitted uilh glass windows, standing in the midat of a smooth level park or
meadow. At each of the four corners of this curious structure, there Avas a
regularly formed tower or block-house ; and tiie whole was joisted and lloored
to the height of tiiree stories. A large gate between t>vo to\vers, with a
formidable portcullis, all of green wood, defended the entrance ; wJiile (he
whole was surrounded with a ditch sixteen feet deep and thirty feet \\'n\e, filled
with water, and stocked with various kinds of fish, and crossed in front of the
palace by a commodious draw-bridge. The walls of all the apartments were hung
with the most splendid tapestry, and the lloors so thickly strewn with flowers, that
no man would have known, says Lindsay, but he had been in " ane greine gar-
deine." The feasting which followed was in keeping with this elaborate and
costly preparation. Every delicacy which the season and the country could
supply was furnished in prodigious quantities to the royal retinue. The choicest
wines, fruits, and confections, were also placed before them with unsparing
liberality ; and the vessels, linen, beds, &."c., with \vhich this fairy mansion was
supplied for the occasion, were all of the finest and most costly description.
The royal party remained here for three days, at an expense to their noble host
of as many thousand pounds. Of all the party there was not one so surprised,
and so much gratified with this unexpected display of magnificence and almn-
dance of good living, as his reverence the pope's ambassador. The holy man
was absolutely overwhelmed with astonishment and delight to find so many good
things in the heart of a wild, uncivilized, and barbarous country. But his aston-
ishment was greatly increased when, on the eve of their departure, he saw a
party of Highlanders busily employed in setting fire to that structure, within
wliich he had fared so well and been so comfortably lodged, and which had cost
so much time, labour, and expense in its erection. " I marvel, sir,'' he said,
addressing the king, '' that }e should suficr yon fair palace to be burned, that
your grace has been so well entertained in." " It is the custom of our High-
landmen," replied James, snnling, " that be they never so well lodged at night
they will burn the house in the morning." The king and his retinue now pro-
ceeded to Uunkeld, where they remained all night. From thence they went
next day to Perth, afterwards to Dundee and St Andre>vs, in all of whidi places
they were sumptuously entertained — and finally returned to Edinburgh.

James, who iiad now passed his twentieth year, was in the very midst of that
singular career of frolic and adventure in which he delighted to indulge, and
which forms so conspicuous a feature in his character. Attended only by a
single friend or two, and his person disguised by the garb of a gentleman of
ordinary rank, and sometimes, if traditionary tales tell truth, by that of a pei-son
of a much lo\ver grade, he rode through the country in search of adventures, or
on visits to distant mistresses ; often on these occasions passing wliole days and
nights on horseback, and putting up contentedly with the coarsest and scantiest
fare whicli diance might throw in the way. Sleeping in barns on "clean pease
Strae," and partaking of the " gude wife's" sheep head, her oaten cakes, and
ale, or whatever else she might have to ofier, was no uncommon occurrence in
the life of James. Such visits, however, were not always prompted by the most
innocent motives. A fair maiden would at any tinie induce the monarch to ride
a score of miles out of his way, and to pass half the night exposed to all its in-
cleniency for an hour's interview.

Janies was no niggard in his gallantries : where money was required, he gave

JAMES V. '221

it freely and liberally ; where it was not, his munificence took tlie sliape of
presents, — siidi as rings, chains, &c. of gold and other descriptions of jewellery.
In one month he gave away in tliis \\:\y to the value of np\vards of four iiun-
dred pounds. Tlie roving nionarcli, however, made even his vagrancies subser-
vient to his great object of extirpating tliieves and robbers. During his wan-
derings he frequently fell in witii numerous bands of them, or souglit tiiem out;
and on such occasions never hesitated to attack them, however formidable they
might be, and however few his o\vn followers.

As the roving propensities of the king thus frequently put his life in
jeopardy, and as his dying without lawful issue would have left the country in
all probability a prey to civil war, the nation became extremely anxious for his
marriage, an event which, after many delays, arising from political objections to
the various connexions from time to time proposed, at length took place. The
Scottish ambassadors in France concluded, by James's authority, a marriage treaty
with ^larie de Uourbon, daugiiter of the duke of Vendome. On the final set-
tlement of this treaty, the young monarch proceeded to Vendome, to claim in
person his aflianced bride ; but here his usual gallantry failed him, for on
seeing the lady he rejected her, and annulled the treaty.

Whether it was the result of chance, or that .lames had detenniaed not to re-
turn home without a wife, tliis occurrence did not doom him, for any length
of time, to a single life. From Vendome he proceeded to Paris, was
graciously received by Francis I., and finally, after a month or two's resi-
dence at that monarch's court, married his daughter 3Iagdalene. The ceremony,
which took place in the church of Notre Dame, was celebrated ^vith great pomp
and splendour. The whole city rang with rejoicings, and tlie court with sounds
of revelry and merriment. I'he marriage was succeeded by four months of con-
tinued feasting, sporting, and merry making. At the end of that period James
and his young bride, who was of an exceedingly sweet and amiable disposition,
returned to Scotland ; the former loaded with costly presents from his father-in-
law, and the latter with a dowry of a hundred thousand crowns, besides an an-
nual pension of thirty thousand livres during her life.

The royal pair arrived at Leith on Whitsun-eve, at ten o'clock at night. On
first touching Scottish ground, the pious and kind-hearted young queen dropped
on her knees, kissed the land of her adoption, and after thanking God for the
safe arrival of her husband and herself, prayed for happiness to the country and
the people. The rejoicings which the royal pair had left in France were now
resumed in Scotland. iMagdalene was every \vhere received by the people with
the strongest proofs of welcome and regard, and this as much from her own gen-
tle and affable demeanour as from her being the consort of their sovereign.

Never queen made such ra'pid pi-ogress in the affections of a nation, and few
ever acquired during any period so large a proportion of personal attachment
as did this amiable lady. The object, however, of all this love, was not destined
long to enjoy it. She was in a had state of health at tiie time of her marriage,
and all the happiness which that event brought along with it could not retard
the progress of tlie disease \vhich was consuming her. She tLaily became worse
after her arrival in Scotland, and finally expired within forty days of her land-
ing. James was for a long time inconsolable for her loss, and for a time buried
himself in retirement, to indulge in the sorrow which he could not restrain.

Policy required, however, that the place of the departed queen should, as
soon as propriety would admit, be supplied by another ; and James fixed upon
Mary of Guise, daughter of the duke of that name, and widow of the duke of
Longueville, to bo the successor of Magdalene. An embassy having been des-
patched to France to settle preliminaries, and to bring the queen consort to

222 JAMES V.

Scotland, she arrived in the latter kingdom in June, 1538. Mary landed at
Balcoiuie in Fife, wliere she was received by tlie kinn;, surrounded by a great
number of his nobles. From tlience tlie royal party proceeded to Dundee, St
Andre\vs, then to Stirling ; from tliat to Linlitligow ; and lastly to Edinburgh.
In all of these places the royal pair were received with every demonstration of
popular joy, and were sumptuously entertained by the magistrates and other au-
thorities of the dirterent towns. Jamt'S, by a long and steady perseverance in
the administration of justice, without regard to the wealtii or rank of the cul-
prits, and by tlie wholesome i-estraint under which he held the turbulent nobles,
had now secured a degree of peace and prosperity to the country which it had
not enjoyed for many years before. His power was acknowledged and felt in
the most remote parts of the Lowlands of Scotland, and even a great part of the
Highlands. But tlie western isles, and the most northern extremity of tiie
kingdom, places then dithcult of access, and comparatively but little known,
were still made the scenes of the most lawless and atrocious deeds by the fierce
and restless ciiieftains, and their clans, by whom they were inhabited. James,
however, resolved to carry and establish his authority even there. He resolved
to " beard the lion in his den ;" to bring these desperadoes to justice in the
midst of their barbarous hordes ; and this bold design he determined to execute
in j>erson. He ordered twelve ships, well provided with artillery, to be ready
against the fourteenth day of 3Iay. The personal preparations of the king,
and those made for his accommodation in the ship in which he was himself to
embark on this expedition, were extensive and multifarious. His cabin was
hung with green cloth, and his bed with black damask. Large quantities of
silver plate, and culinary utensils, with stores for cooking, were put on board ;
and also a vast number of tents and pavilions, for the accommodation of his
suite, when they sliould land in the isles. The monarch himself was equipped
in a suit of red velvet, ornamented with gold embroidei-y, and the ship in
which be sailed was adorned with splendid tiags, and numerous streamers of red
and yellow serge.

The expedition, wliich had been delayed for fourteen days beyond the time
appointed, by the advanced state of the queen's pregnancy, finally set sail for its
various destinations in the beginning of June.

The royal squadron, on reaching the western shores, proceeded deliberately
from island to island, and from point to point of the mainland, the king
landing on each, and sunuuoning the various chieftains to his presence. Some
of these he executed on the spot, others he carried away witii hiiu as hostages
for the future peacefid conduct of tlieir kinsmen and followers ; and thus, after
making the terror of his name and the sternness of his justice felt in every glen
in the Higiilands, he bent his way again homewai-ds. James himself landed at
Dumbarton, but the greater part of his ships, including those on board of which
were the captured chieftains, were sent round to Leith.

Having now reduced the whole country to such a state of tranquillity,
and so etTectually accomplisiied the security of private property every where,
that it is boasted, that, at this period of iiis reign. Hocks of sheep were as safe in
FttricU forest as in the province of Fife, he betook himself to the improvement of
his kingiloiu by peaceful pursuits. He imported superior breeds of horses to
improve the native ra<;e of that anin»al. He promoted the fisheries, and invited
artisans and mechanics of all descriptions to settle in the country, encouraging
them by the oiler of liberal wages, and, in many cases, by bestowing small an-
nual pensions. With every promise of a long and happy reign, and in the
midst of exertions wliich entitled him to expect the latter, the cup was suddenly
dashed from iiis lips. ^Misfortune on misfortune crowded on the ill-starred

JAMES VI. 223

monarch, and hurried him to a premature grave. Two princes who were born
to iiim by Wary of (iuise, died in their infancy within a few days of eacii other,
a calamity which sank deep in the lieait of their royal parent. His uncle, the
king of England, witli whom he had hitherto been on a frien<lly footing, for
reasons now not very well known, invaded his dominions with an army of
twenty thousand men, inider the connnand of the duke of Norfolk. James gave
oi'ders to assemble an army of thirty thousand men on the Burrow muir, and with
this force lie marched to oppose them. The hostile armies met at Solway moss,
but with little disposition on the part of the leaders of the Scottish army to
maintain the credit of their sovereign by their arms. James had never been
friendly to the aristocracy, and they now retaliated upon him by a lukewarm-
ness in his cause in the hour of need. The unfortunate monarch himself in-
creased this spirit of defection at this critical juncture by appointing (Jliver Sin-
clair a mean favourite, and a man of no ability, to the command of his army.
'Ihe intelligence of this appointment excited the utmost indignation in the Scot-
tish army. All declared that they would rather submit to be taken prisoners by
the English than be commanded by such a general ; and the whole army was
thrown into such a state of connnotion by this infatuated proceeding of their
sovereign, that the English general perceived the disorder, and taking advan-
tage of it, attacked the Scottish army with a few hundred light horse. The for-
mer making no resistance were instantly put to flight. James was at Carlave-
rock, about twelve miles distant, when this disaster took place. When in-
formed of the disgraceful flight of his army, he sank into a state of dejection
and melancholy from which nothing could rouse him. His proud spirit could
not brook the disgrace which had befallen his arms, and the conduct of his
nobles excited a degree of irritation which soon threw him into a violent fever.
In this state of despondency he retired to Falkland. Here he took to bed and
refused all sustenance. While in this condition intelligence was brought liim
that the queen, then at Linlithgow, was delivered of a girl. *' It came with a
lass and it will go with a lass," said the dying monarch, reckoning it another
misfortune, that it was not a male heir that had been given to him.

A little before his death, which was now fast approaching, he was heard nuit-
tering the words " Solway moss," the scene of that disaster which was now hur-
rying him to the grave. On the day of his death, which happened previous to
the I3th of December, 1542, but within two or three days of it, although the
precise day is not known, he turned round to the lords who surrounded his bed,
and with a faint but benignant smile, held out his hand to them to kiss, and in
a few minutes thereafter expired. James died in the 31st year of his age,
leaving the unfortunate fllary, then an infant, to succeed to his dignities and to
more tiian his misfortunes. Besides IVlary, his only surviving legitimate child,
James left six natural children. These were — James, abbot of Kelso and Mel-
rose ; the regent IMurray ; Kobert, prior of Holyroodhouse ; John, prior of
Coldingham ; Janet, wife of the earl of Angus ; and Adam, prior of the Char-
treux at Perth.

JAMES VI. of Scotland, and I. of England, was born in the castle of Edin.
burgh, June 19, 1 566. He was the son of the reigning sovereign Mary, by her
husband, Henry, lord Darnley, who was nominally associated with her in the
government, and was the eldest son of the existing earl of Lennox. Both by
his father and mother, James was the great-grandson of Henry Vll. of England,
and, failing queen Elizabeth and his own mother, stood nearest to the throne of
that kingdom, at the same time that he was heir-apparent to the Scottish crown.
The character of his parents .ind tlieir previous history are so well known, that
it is unnecessary to touch upon them here. It may only be mentioned, that

224 JAMES VL

while the royal infant brought uilh him into the world pretensions the most
brilliant tliat could liave befallen a mortal creature, he also carried in his con-
stitution a weakness of the most lamentable nature, afiecting botli bis body and
his mind. About lliree montlis before bis birth, bis fallier beaded a band of
conspirators, who broke violently into the privacy of bis molber's chamber, and
in her presence slew her favourite counsellor, David Hiccio. 'ihe agitation of
the mother on that occasion, took effect upon the child, who, though intended
apparently to be alike strong in mental and bodily constitution, showed tbrough
life many deficiencies in both respects, though, perhaps, to a less extent than has
been represented by popular history.

It is well known that a confederation of the Scottish nobles dethroned 3Iary
about a year after the birth of her son. Wbile this ill-fated princess was con-
demned to imprisonment in Locbleven castle, her son was taken to Stirling, and
there crowned at the age of thirteen months and ten days. ITie real govern-
ment was successively administered by the regents 3Ioray, Lennox, 3Iar, and
Jlorton, under the secret direction of the English queen, by whom, in time,
her rival 3Iary was put to death. James, after a weakly infancy, was placed
under tlie care of tlie celebrated Buchanan, whose religious principles and dis-
tinguished scholarship seemed to qualify him peculiarly for the task of educating
a proteslant prince. It would appear that the young king received at the hands
of his master a great deal more learning, classiiral and theological, than he was
able to digest, and thus became liable to as much of llie fault of pedantry, as
consists hi a hoarding of literature for its o«n sake, or for purposes of
ostentation, accompanied by an inability to turn it to its only true use in the
ordinary purposes of life. A pliability of temper, subject alike to evil and to
good influences ; a sly acuteness in penetratinof the motives of men, without the
power to make it of any practical advantage : and a proneness to listen to the
flattering counsellors who told him he «as a king, and ought to have the power
of one, were other characteristics of this juvenile monarch : \\hose situation, it
must at the same time be acknowledged, was one of such difficulty, as to render
a fair development of the best faculties of the mind, and the best tendencies of
the heart, hardly to be expected.

Though made and upheld as a king, in consequence of a successful rebellion
against the monarchical principle, James was early inspired with a high sense
of his royal powers and privileges, probably by some of those individuals who
are never wanting around the persons of young princes, let their education
be ever so carefully conducted. Even before attaining the age of twelve, he
had become the centre of a little knot of courtiers, who clustered about him at his
residence in Stirling castle, and plotted schemes for transferring the reins of
government into his own hands. 3Iorton permitted himself to be surprised in
1573 by this party, who for some time conducted the affairs of state in the
name of the king, as if he luid been in full posse.'sion of his birth-right.
IMorton, however, soon after regained nearly all bis wonted ascendancy, and it
was not till two or three years later that the king became completely emanci-
pated frfim this powerful agent of the English queen. A young scion of nobility,
named captain Stuart, from his commanding the king's guards, and Esme, earl oi
Lennox, tiie king's cousin, were bis chief instruments in obtaining the sovereign
power, and in raising that prosecution against 3Iorton, which ended in his exe-
cution, June 2, 15^1. 'Ihe former is represented as a profligate adventurer,
who studied only how. by fbttering the king and enforcing his despotic views, to"
promote his own interest. Lennox was a gentler and worthier person, but was
obnoxious to popular odium, on account of his professing the catholic faith.
The protestant and English interest suom rallied, and, in August, 15^2, took

JAMES VL 225

place the celebrated liaid of Ruthven, by which a few piesbyterian nobles,
headed by the earl of (jowrie, Mere enabled to take possession of the royal
person, and use his authority for some time in behalf of liberal government and
their onn religious principles, while Stuart and Lennox were forbidden his
presence.

It was not till June, 1583, that James emancipated himself from a control
which, however well he appeared to bear it, Avas far from agreeable to him.
Lennox had now been banished to France, where he died of a broken lieart ;
Stuart was created earl of Arran on the ruins of the Hamilton family, and
became almost sole counsellor to tiie young monarch. The nobles who had seized
the king at liulhven, were jiardoned ; but Gowrie, having soon after made a
second and unsuccessful attempt, was beheaded at Stirling. During the interval
between June, 15S3, and November, 1 5S5, the government was of a decidedly
anti-popular and anti-presbyterian character, — Arran being permitted to act
enti,j'ely as lie pleased. 'Ihe presbyterian nobles, however, who had fled into
England, were, at the latter period, enabled by Elizabeth to invade their ov.n
country, with such a force as overturned the power of the unworthy favourite,
and re-established a system agreeable to the clergy and people, and more
closely respondent to the wishes of Elizabeth. In this way James grew up to
man's estate.

In 1584, when eighteen years of age, he made his first appearance as an
author, by publishing a small tliin quarto, entitled '' Essayes of a Prentice in
the Divine Art of Foesie, with the Kewlis and Cauteles to be pursued and
avoided." This work consists of a mixture of poetry and prose; the poems
being chiefly a series of sonnets, which bear very much the appearance of school
exercises ; while the prose consists of a code of laws for the construction of verse
according to the ideas of that age. There is little in the king's style or his
ideas to please the present age ; yet, compared with the etlbrts of contemporary
authors, these poems may be said to bear a respectable appearance.

The main effect of the late revolution was to re-establish the English influ-
ence, which had been deranged by the ascendancy of captain Stuart. In June,
158G, James entered into an an-angement with Elizabeth, by which, in con-
sideration of a pension of five thousand pounds^ rendered necessary by his penu-
rious circumstances, he engaged to support England against the machinations of
the cfltholic powers of Europe. It was also part of this treaty, that a correspondence
which he had entered into with his mother, should be broken off; and he even
submitted so far to the desires of his new superior, as to write a disrespectful
letter to that unhappy princess, who replied in an eloquent epistle, threatening
to denounce him as a usurper, and load him with a parent's curse. James, in
reality, during the whole of his occupancy of the Scottish throne, was a mere tool
in the hands of one party or another ; and had no personal influence or indepen-
dence whatever till the advanced age of Elizabeth gave him near hopes of the
English crown. Great care is therefore to be taken in judging of his actions,
lest that be attributed to his own vicious will, which was only the dictate of a poli-
tical system, of which he was the apparent head, but the real slave. In the winter
of 158G-7, he had to endure the painful reflection, that his mother was threat-
ened with, and ultimately brought to the scaffold, Avithout his being able to
make the least movement in her favour. It is but justice to him to say, that so
far from his manifesting the levity on this subject attributed to him by several
writers, he appears from documents of respectable authority,' to have manifested
the highest indignation, and a degree of grief hardly to be expected from him,

' Sue the Life of James I., furming two volumes of Constable's Misccllanj, b) the editor
of the pr»?sent work.

Ill 2 F

226 JAMES VI.

consider! nof that lie was not conscious of having ever seen his parent. Mary,
in her last prayer in the hail of Kotheringay, uiiile stretclied before the block,
entreated tlie favour of (jod touanls iier son ; will' ii slious tliat she had not
ultimately found proper cause for puttiii;2^ iier liireat into execution.

In IS'jy, uliiie tlie siiores of lin^iand were tlireatened witli the Spanish
armada, James fulfilled, as far as lie could, the treaty into wiiich lie had entered
with Elizibelh, by using his best exertions to suppress liie movements of a power-
ful catiiolic party among his own subjects, in support of the invasion. In re-
turn lor this, Elizabeth permitted him to take a wife; and his choice ultimately
fell upon tlie princess Anne of Denmark, second daughter of the deceased Ire-
derick the second. He was married by proxy in August, 1 58Li ; but the princess
haviii" been delayed in Norway by a storm, which threatened to detain her for
the winter, he gallantly crossed the seas to Upslo, in order to consummate the
match. After spending some months at the Danish court, he returned to Scot-
land in May, 15J0; when the reception vouchsafed to the royal pair was fully
such as to justify an expression used by James in one of his letters, that " a king
with a new married wyfe did not come hame every day."

The king had an illegitimate cousin, Francis, earl of Bolhwell, who now for
some years embittered his life by a series of plots and assaults for which there is
no parallel even in Scottish history. Bothwell had been spared by the king's
goodness in 15^9, from the result of a sentence for treason, passed on account
of his concern in a catholic conspiracy. Soon after James returned from Den-
mark, it was discovered that he had tampered >vith professing witches to take
away the king's life by necromancy. He at fust proposed to stand a trial for
this alleged oH'ence, but subsequently found it necessary to make his escape.
His former sentence was then permitted to take effect, and he became, in the
language of the times, a broken man. Repeatedly, however, did this bold ad-
venturer approach the walls of Edinburgh, and even assail the king in his
palace ; nor eould the limited powers of the sovereign either accomplish his
seizure, or frighten him out of the kingdom. He even contrived at one time to
regain his place in the king's council, and remained for several months in the
enjoyment of all his former honours, till once more expelled by a party of his
enemies. The king appears to have purposely been kept in a slate of power-
lessness by his subjects ; even the strength necessary to execute the law upon the
paltriest occasions was denied to him ; and his clergy took every opportunity of
decrying his government, and diminishing the respect of his people, — lest, in
becoming stronger or more generally reverenced, he should have used his in-
creased force against the liberal interest, and the presbyterian religion. If he
could have been depended upon as a thorough adherent of these abstractions,
there can be no doubt that his Scottish reign would have been less disgraced by
the non-execution of the laws. But then, was his first position under the re-
gents and the protestant nobles of a kind calculated to attach him sincerely to
that party? or can it be decidedly affirmed that the zeal of the clergy of those
rough and didicult times, was sufficiently tempered with human kindness, to
make a young prince prefer their peculiar system to one which addressed him
in a more courteous manner, and was more favourable to that regal power, the
feebleness of ^\hich had hitherto seemed the cause of all his distresses and all his
humiliation ?

In 15'^5, while under the control of Arran, he had written a pan;phrase and
commentary on the Revelation of St John, which, however, was not completed
or published for some years after. In 15D1, he produced a second volume of
vei-se, entiiled " l'oeti(ual Exercises;" in the preface to which he informs the
reader, as an apology for inaccuracies, that '' scarcelie but at stolen moments had

JAMES VI. 227

he leisure to blenk upon any paper, and yet nocht that with free unvexed
spirit."' He also appears to liave at this time proceeded some ler.gth with his
translation of the I'salms into Scottish verse. It is curious that, while the king
manifested, in his literary studies, both the pure sensibilities of the poet and the
devout aspirations of the saint, his personal manners were coarse, his anmse-
luents of no refined character, and his speech rendered odious by conunon
swearing.

It is hardly our duty to enter into a minute detail of the oscillations of the
Scottish ciuirch, during this reign, between presbytery and episcopacy. In pro-
portion as the king was weak, the former system prevailed; and in proportion
as he gained strength from the prospect of the English succession, and other
causes, the episcopal polity was re-imposed. We are also disposed to overlook
the troubles of the catholic nobles — Huntly, Errol, and Angus, who, for some
obscure plot in concert with Spain, v.ere persecuted to as great an extent as the
personal favour of the king, and his fear of displeasing the English papists,
would permit. The leniency shown by the king to these grandees procured him
the wrath of the church, and led to the celebrated tumult of the 17th of De-
cember, 159(5, in which the clergy permitted themselves to make so unguarded
an appearance, as to furnish their sovereign with the means of checking their
power, without offending the people.

In February, 1594, a son, afterwards the celebrated prince Henry, was
born to the king at Stirling castle ; this was followed some years after by the
birth of a daughter, Elizabeth, whose fate, as the queen of Bohemia, and ances-
tress of the present royal family of Britain, gives rise to so many varied reflec-
tions. James wrote a treatise of counsel for his son, under the title of " Basili-
con Doron," which, though containing some passages ofiensive to the clergy, is a
work of much good sense, and conveys, upon the whole, a respectable impression
at once of the author's abilities, and of his moral temperament. It was pub-
lished in 1599, and is said to have gained him a great accession of esteem
among the English, for whose favour, of course, he was anxiously solicitous.

Few incidents of note occurred in the latter part of the king's Scottish reign.
The principal was the famous conspiracy of the earl of Gowrie and his
brother, sons of the earl beheaded in 1584, which was developed — if we
may speak of it in such a manner — on the 5th of August, IGOO. This affair
has of late been considerably elucidated by Robert Pitcairn, Esq., in his la-
borious work, the " Criminal Trials of Scotland," though it is still left in some
measure as a question open to dispute. The events, so far as ascertained, were
as follows.

Early on the morning of the 5th of August, 1600, Alexander, Master of
Ruthven, with only two followers, Andrew Henderson and Andrew Ruthven,
rode from Perth to Falkland, where king James was at that time residing. He
arrived there about seven oclock, and stopping at a house in the vicinity of the
palace, sent Henderson forward to learn the motions of the king. His mes-
senger returned quickly with the intelligence, that his majesty was just depart-
ing for the chase. Ruthven proceeded immediately to the palace, where he met
James in front of the stables. They spoke together for about a quarter of an
hour. None of the attendants overheard the discourse, but it \vas evident from
the king's laying his hand on the master's shoulder, and clapping his back, that
the matter of it pleased him. The hunt rode on, and Ruthven joined the train;
first, however, despatching Henderson to inform his brother that his majesty was
coming to Perth with a lew attendants, and to desire him to cause dinner to be
prepared. A buck was slain about ten o'clo('k, when the king desired the duke
of Lennox and the earl of fllar to accompany him to Perth, to speak with the

228 JAMES VL

earl of Gowrie. The master of Ruthren now despatched his other attendant to
gire tlie earl notice of liie kind's approach ; and immediately afterwards James
and he set off at a rate that threw behind the royal attendants, who lost some
time in changing horses. When tiie duke of Lennox overtook them, the king,
witii ar^at glee, told him that he was riding to Perth to get a pose (treasure).
He tiien asked the duke's opinion of Alexander lluthven, which proving favour-
able, he proceeded to repeat the story which that young man had told him,
of his having the previous evening surprised a man with a large sum of money
on his person. The duke expressed his opinion of the improbability of the tale,
and some suspicion of Ruthven's purpose; upon which the kinj desired him to
follo\v \vhen he and Rutbven should leave the hall — an order which he repeated
after his anival in the earl of Gowrie's house.

3Ieantinie, Henderson, on his arrival at Perth, found the elder Ruthven in
his chamber, speaking upon business with two gentlemen. Gowrie drew him
aside the moment he entered, and asked whether he brought any letter or mes-
sage from his brother. On learning that the king was comin?, he took the
messenger into his cabinet, and inquired anxiously in what manner the master
had been received, and what persons were in attendance upon his majesty.
Returning to the chamber, he made an apolojy to the two jrentlemen, and dis-
missed them, Henderson then went to his own house. When he returned, in
about an hour, the earl desired him to arm himself, as he had to apprehend a
Highlander in the Shoe-gate. The master of the household being unwell, the
duty of carrying up the earl's dinner devolved upon Hendei"Son. He performed
this service about Imlf past twelve ; and afterwards waited upon the earl and
some friends who were dining with hinu They had just sat do\vn when
Andrew Ruthven entered, and whispered something in the earl's ear, who, how-
ever, seemed to give no heed. As the second course was about to be set upon
the table, the master of Ruthven, who had left the kinsr about a mile from Perth,
and rode on before; entered and announced his majesty's approach. This was
the tirst intelligence given the inhabitants of Gowrie house of the king's visit,
for Gowrie had kept not only his coming, but also the masters visit to Falk-
land, a profound secret. The earl and his visitors, with their attendants, and
some of the citizens among \vhom the news had spread, went out to meet the
king.

The street in which Gowrie house fonnerly stood runs north and south, and
parallel to the Tay. The house was on the side next the river, built so as to
form three sides of a square, the fourth side, that which abutted on the street,
being formed by a wall, through which the entry into the interior court, or
close, was by a gate. 'Ihe scene of the subsequent events was the south side o.
the square. The interior of this part of the edifice contained, in the first story,
a dining-room, looking out upon the river, a hall in the centre, and a room at
the further end looking out upon the street, each of them occupying the whole
breadth of the building, and opening into each other. The second story con-
sisted of a gallery occupying the space of the dining-room and hall below, and
at tiie street end of this gallery, a chamber, in the north-west corner of which
was a circular closet, formed by a turret which overhuns; the outer wall, in which
were t\vo long narrow windows, the one looking towards the spy-tower, (a strong
tower built over one of the city-gates.) the other looking out upon the court, but
visible from the street before the gate. The access to the hall and uallery was
by a large turnpike stair in the south-east corner of the court. The hall like-
wise connnunicated with the garden, which lay between the house and the river,
by a door opposite to that which opened from the turnpike, and an outward
stair. The access to tiie cliamber in which was the round closet, was either

JAMES VI. 229

through the gallery, or by means of a smaller turnpike (called the black turn-
pike) which stood lialf-way betwixt the principal one and tlie street.

The unexpected arrival of the king caused a considerable commotion in
Cowrie's establisiiuient. C'raigingelt, the master of the household, was obliged
to leave his sick bed, and bestir himself. Messengei-s were despatched through
I'erth to seek, not for meat, for of that there seems to have been plenty, but for
some delicacy fit to be set upon the royal table. The baillies and other digni-
taries of Perth, as also some noblemen who were resident in the town, came
pouring in, — some to pay their respects to his majesty, others to stare at the
courtiers. Amid all this confusion, somewhat more than an hour elapsed before
the repast was i-eady. To judge by the king's narrative, and the eloquent ora-
tions of Mr Patrick Galloway, this neglect on the part of the earl seems to have
been regarded as not the least criminal part of his conduct : and with justice ;
for his royal highness had been riding hard since seven o'clock, and it was past
(wo before he could get a morsel, which, when it did come, bore evident marlts
of being hastily prepared.

As soon as the king was set down to dinner, the earl sent for Andrew Hen-
derson, whom he conducted up to the gallery, where the master was waiting for
them. After some short conversation, during which Gowrie told Henderson to
do any thing his brother bade him, the younger Ruthven locked this attendant
into the little round closet within the gallery chamber, and left him there.
Henderson began now, according to his own account, to suspect that something
wrong was in agitation, and set himself to pray, in great perturbation of mind.
Meanwhile, the earl of Gowrie returned to take his place behind the chair or
his royal guest. When the king had dined, and Lennox, Mar, and the other
noblemen in waiting, had retired from the dining-room to the hall to dine in
their turn, Alexander Ruthven came and whispered to the king, to find some
means of getting rid of his brother the earl, from whom he had all along pre-
tended great anxiety to keep the story of the found treasui-e a secret. The
king filled a bumper, and, drinking it ofT, desired Gowrie to carry his pledge
to the noblemen in the hall. While they were busy returning the health, the
king and the master passed quietly through the hall, and ascended the great
stair which led to the gallery. They did not, however, pass altogether unob-
served, and some of the royal train made an attempt to follow them, but Mere re-
pelled by Ruthven, who alleged the king's wish to be alone. From the gallery
they passed into the chamber at the end of it, and the door of this room
Ruthven appears to have locked behind him.

When the noblemen had dined, they inquired after their master, but were
informed by Gowrie that he had retired, and wished to be private. The earl
immediately called for the keys of the garden, whither he was followed by Len-
nox and part of the royal train ; whilst Mar, with the rest, remained in the
house. John Ramsay, a favourite page of the king, says in his deposition, that,
on rising from table, he had agreed to take charge of a hawk for one of the
servants, in order to allow the man to go to dinner. He seems, while thus
engaged, to have missed Gowrie's explanation of the king's absence, for he
sought his majesty in the dining-room, in the garden, and afterAvards in the
gallery. He had never before seen this gallery, which is said — we know not
upon what authority — to have been richly adorned with paintings by the earl's
father, and he staid some time admiring it. On coming down stairs, he found
the whole of the king's attendants hurrying towards the outer gate, and was told
by Thomas Cranstone, one of the earl's servants, that the king had rode on
before. Ramsay, on hearing this, ran to the stable Avhere his horse was. Len-
nox and Mar, who had also heard the report of the king's departure, asked the

230 JAMES VI.

porter, as tliey were passing tlie gate, whether the king were ii?deed forth. The
nuiii rei»lie<l in the negative, (jourie diecketl him with considerable harsliness,
and artirnied lliat tlie king liad passed out by the back gate. " Tliat is inipps-
sible, my lord," answered the porter, " for it is locked, and the key is in my
pocket." Gowrie, some^vhat confused, saiil he would return and learn the truth
of the matter. He came back almost instantly, affirming ])osilively that the king
Lad ridtlen out by the back gate, 'liie greater part of the company were now
assembled on tlie High Street, in front of the house, waiting for their horses,
and discussing how they were to seek the king. At this moment, the king's
voice was heard, crying — " 1 am murdered! Treason! Rly loi-d of 3Iar, help j
help!" Lennox and Mar, with their attendants, rushed through the gateway
into the court, and up the principal stair. Sir 1 homas Erskine and his brother
James, seized the earl of Gowrie, exclaiming, "Traitor! this is thy deed!"
Some of the earl's servants rescued their master, who Avas, however, thrown down
in the scudle, and refused admittance to the inner court. On recovering his feet,
he retired a short way ; then drawing his sword and dagger, he cried, " 1 will
be in my own house, or die by the way."

During these proceedings, the king had found himself rather critically circum-
stancecL Alexander Kulhven, having locked the door of the gallery chamber,
led the way to tlie round closet. James was not a little astonished when, instead
of the captive he exj)ected, he saw a man armed at all points except his head.
He was more astonished when the master, putting on his hat, dre>v the man's
dagger, and presented it to his breast, saying, '* Sir, you must be my prisoner!
remember my father's deatii !" James attempted to remonstrate, but was inter-
rupted with *' Hold your tongue, sir, or by Christ you shall die!" 13ut here
Henderson wrenched the dagger from Kuthven's hand, and the king, then
resuming his remonstrances, was answered that his life was not what was sought.
The master even took off his hat when the king, who, amid all his perturbation,
forgot not his princely demeanour, reminded him of the impropriety of wearing
it in his presence. He then requested James to give him his word not to open
the window, nor call for assistance, whilst he went to bring his brother, the
earl, who was to deteniiine what farther should be done, liuthven then left the
closet, locking the door behind him ; but, according to Henderson's belief, Avent
no farther than the next room. This is more than probable ; for, by the nearest
calculation, Kamsay must have been at that time still in the gallery. The mas-
ter re-entered, therefore, almost iiistantly, and telling the king there was now
but one course left, produced a garter, with which he attempted to bind his
ni.ajesty's hands. James freed his left with a violent 6xertion, exclaiming, " I
am a free prince, man ! I will not be bound!" Itulhven, without answering,
seized him by the throat with one hand, while he thrust the other into his mouth,
to prevent his crying. In the struggle which ensued, the king was driven
against the window which overlooked the court, and, at that moment, Hender-
son thrust his arm over the master's shoulder and pushed up the window, wiiich
afforded the king an opp(irtunity of calling for assistance. The master, there-
upon, said to Henderson, " Is there no help in thee? Thou wilt cause us all
to die :" and tremblingly, between excitement and exertion, he attempted to
draw his sword. 'Ihe king, perceiving his intent, laid hold of his hand; and
thus clasped in a death-wrestle, they reeled out of tlie closet into the chamber.
The king had got Kuthven's iiead under his arm ; whilst Kuthven, finding him-
self held down almost upon his knees, was pressing upwards with his hand
against the king's face, when, at this crilicyil moment, John Kanisay, the pao'e,
who had heard from the street the king's cry for help, and who had got before
Mar and Lennox, by running up the black turnpike formerly mentioned, while

JAMES YL 231

they took tlie principal staircase, rushed against the door of the chamber and
burst it open. The king panted out, when he saw his page, " Fy! strike him
h)\v ! he lias secret armour ou." At which Hanisay, casting from him the hawk
which slill sat upon his hand, drew his dagger and stabbed the master. The
next moment, the king, exerting all his strength, threw him from him down
stairs. Ramsay ran to a window, and called upon Sir Thomas lu-skine, and one
or two who were with him, to come up the turnpike, l.rskine was first, and
as Ruthven staggered past him on the stair, wounded and bleeding, he desired
those wlio followed to strike tiie traitor. Ihis was done, and the young man
fell, crying, " Alas! I liad not the wyte of it."

Tlie king was safe for the mean time, but there was still c^iuse for alarm.
Only four of his attendants had reached him ; and he was uncertain whether
the incessant attempts of Mar and Lennox's party to break open the door by
which tlie chamber communic^ated with the gallery, were made by friend or foe.
At this moment the alarm bell rang out, and the din of the gathering citizens,
who were as likely, for any thing the king knew, to side with tiieir provost,
Gowrie, as with himself, was heard from the town. There Avas, besides, a still
more immediate danger.

Gowrie, whom we left attempting to force his way into the house, was met at
the gate by the ne\vs that his brother had fallen. Violet Ruthven, and otiier
women belonging to the family, were already wailing his death, screaming their
curses up to the king's party in the chamber, and mixing their shrill execrations
with the fierce din which shook the city. The earl, seconded by Cranstone,
one of his attendants, forced his way to the foot of the black turnpike, at which
spot lay the master's body. "■ Whom I'.ave we here?" said the retainer, for the
face was turned downwards. "Up the stair!" was Gowrie's brief and stern
reply. Cranstone, going up before his master, found, on rushing into the cham-
ber, the swords of Sir Thomas Erskine, and Herries, the king's physician, drawn
against him. They were holding a parley in this threatening attitude, when
Gowrie entered, and was instantly attacked by Ramsay. The earl fell after a
smart contest. Ramsay immediately turned upon Cranstone, who had proved
fully a match for the other two, and having wounded him severely, forced hira
finally to retreat.

All this time they who were with the duke of Lennox had kept battering at
the gallery-door of the chamber with hammers, but in vain. The partition was
constructed of boards, and as the whole wall gave way equally before the blows,
the door could not be forced. The party with the king, on the other hand,
were afraid to open, lest they should thus give admission to enemies. A servant
was at last despatched round by the turnpike, who assured his majesty that it
was the duke of Lennox and tlie earl of iMar who were so clamorous for admis-
sion. The hammers were then handed through below the door, and the belts
speedily displaced. When these noblemen were admitted, they found the king
unharmed, amid his brave deliverers. The door, however, which entered from
the turnpike, had been closed upon a body of Cowrie's retainers, who were
calling for their master, and striking through below the door with their pikes
and halberds. The clamour from the town continued, and the voices from the
court were divided, — part calling for the king, part for their provost, the earl of
Gowrie. Affairs, however, soon took a more decided turn. They who assaulted
the door grew tired of their ineffectual efforts, and withdrew ; and almost at the
same moment the voi<;es of baillies Uay and Young were heard from the street,
calling to know if the king were safe, and announcing that they ^^ere there,
with the loyal burgesses of Perth, for his defence. The king gn-atified them by
showing himself at the window, requesting them to still the tumult. At tlie

232 JAMES VL

coiiimniHl of tlie magistrates tlie crowd became silent, aiul gradually dispersed.
In tile course of a few hours, peace was so completely re-eslablislied, that the king
and his company were able to take horse for lalkland.

'Ihis bird's-eye view of the occurrences of the fifth of August, will be found
correct in the main. Although some details have been necessarily omitted, they
are sutlicient to establish a preconcerted scheme between the brothers against the
king, but of what nature, and to what purpose, it would be dithcult, without
further evidence, to say. Of all the people that day assembled in Gowrie's
house, not one seems to have been in the secret. Henderson, to whom an
important share in the execution of the attempt had been assigned, \vas kept in
ignorance to the last moment, and then he counteracted, instead of furthering
their views. Even with regard to Cranstone, the most busy propagator of the
rumour of the king's departure, it is uncertain whether he may not have spread
the report in consequence of the asseverations of his master ; and we have his
solenni declaration, at a time when he thought himself upon his death-bed, that
he had no previous knowledge of the plot. The two IJulhvens of Freeland,
Eviot, and Hugh 31oncriefi', who took the most active share in endeavouring to
stir the citizens up to mutiny to revenge the earl and his brother, may have been
actuated, for any evidence we have to the contrary, solely by the feelings of
reckless and devoted retainers, upon seeing their master's fall in an aft'ray whose
origin and cause they knew not. To this evidence, partly negative, and partly
positive, may be added the deposition of William Kynd, who said, when examined
at Falkland, that he had heard the earl declare, — " He was not a wise man, who,
having intended the execution of a high and dangerous purpose, should commu-
nicate the same to any but himself; because, keeping it to himself, it could not
be discovered nor disappointed." Moreover, it does not sufficiently appear,
from the deportment of the master, that they aimed at the king's life. He
spoke only of making him prisoner, and grasped his sword only when the king-
had made his attendants aware of his situation. At the same time, it was
nowhere discovered that any measures had been taken for removing the royal pri-
soner to a place of security ; and to keep him in a place so open to observation
as Gowrie-house, was out of the (juestion. \\ ithout some other evidence, there-
fore, than that to which we have as yet been turning our attention, we can
scarcely look upon these transactions otherwise than as a fantastic dream, which
is incoherent in all its parts, and the absurdity of which is only apparent when
we reflect how irreconcilable it is with the waking world around us.

'i'he letters of Logan of Hestalrig, which were not discovered till eight
years afterwards, throw some further light upon the subject, though not
BO much as could be wished. Of their authenticity little doubt can be enter-
tained, when we consider the number and respectability of the witnesses
who swore positively to their being in Logan's handwriting. It appears from
these letters that Gowrie and Logan had agreed in some plot against the king.
It appears, also, that Logan was in correspondence with some third person who
had assented to the enterprise. It would almost seem, from Logan's third let-
ter, that this person resided at Falkland : " If 1 kan nocht win to Falkland
the hrst nycht, 1 sail be tymelie in St Johnestoun on the morne." And it is al-
most certain from the filth letter, that lie was so situated as to have oral com-
munication with Gowrie, the master of lUilhven : " I'ray let his lo. be qwik, and
bid JM. A. remember on the sport he tald me." It does not appear, however,
that any definite j)lan had been resolved upon. The sea excursion, which IMr
Lawson, in his History of the (iowrie (conspiracy, supposes to have been con-
templated with the design of conveying James to Fast castle, was only meant to
aflord facilities for a meeting of the conspirators with a view to deliberatiou-

JAMES VI. 233

Logan's fiflh letter is dated as late as the last of July, and yet it does not ap-
pear that the writer knew at that time of the Perth project. Taking these facts
in conjunction with the hair-brained character of Cowrie's attempt, it seems
highly probable, that allhou^h some scheme miglit be in agitation with Logan,
and periiaps some other conspirators, the outrage of the fiflh of August was tlie
rash and pi-emature undertaking of two hot-blooded fantastical young men, who
probably wished to distinguish tlieiviselves above the rest of their associates in
the plot.

llie very scanty information that we possess respecting the character and
previous habits of these two brothers, is quite in accordance with this view of
the matter, and goes a good way to corroborate it. They are allowed, on all
hands, to have been men of graceful exterior, of winning manners, well ad-
vanced in the studies of the times, brave, and masters of their weapons. It is
not necessary surely to prove at this time of day, how compatible all these
qualifications are with a rash and headlong temper, completely subject to the
control of the imagination — a turn of mind bordering upon frenzy. A man of
quick perception, warm feeling, and ungoverned fancy, is, of all others, the
most fascinating, when the world goes smoothly ; but he is of all others the
most liable, having no guiding reason, to err most extravagantly in the serious
business of life : being " unstable as water,'' he is easily irritated and lashed
into madness by adverse circmnstances. Ho\v much Gowrie w<as the dupe of his
imagination, is evident from the fondness with which he clung to the delusions
of the cabala, natural magic, and astrology. Armed (according to his own be-
lief) with powers beyond the conmion race of man, doomed by his stars to
achieve greatness, he laughed at danger, and was ready to neglect the calcula-
tions of worldly prudence alike in his aims, and the means by which he sought
their attainment. The true state of his brother's mind is pourtrayed, incidental-
ly, by Logan, in his first letter: — " Bot incase ye and 31. A. R. forgader, be-
cawse he is somqhat consety, for (iodis saik be very var with his rakelese toyis
of Padoa ; flbr he tald me ane of the strangest taillis of ane nobill man of Padoa
that ever I hard in my lyf, resembling the lyk purpose." This suggests at once
the very picture of a young and hot-blooded man, whose brain had been dis-
tracted, during his residence in Italy, with that country's numerous legends of
wild vengeance. Two such characters, brooding conjointly over real or fancied
wrongs, were capable of projecting schemes, against which the most daring
would remonstrate ; and irritated by the coldness of their friends, were, no
doubt, induced to undertake the execution alone, and almost unassisted.

It only remains to inquire what was the object which Gowrie proposed to
himself, in his mad and treasonable attempt, and upon whose seconding he was
to depend, suppose his design had succeeded ? These two inquiries are in-
separably connected, and have been rendered more interesting, by a late attempt
to implicate the presbyterian party in the earl's guilt. We are not a little as-
tonished that such an attempt should have been made at this late period, when
we recollect, that notwithstanding all the ill odour in which the presbyterian
clergymen stood at court, not one of the thousand idle rumours to which
Gowrie's enterprise gave birth, tried to direct suspicion towards them. The sole

grounds upon which such an accusation can rest for support, are the facts, that

Gowrie's father was a leader among the presbyterians, and his son strictly
educated in that faith ; that shortly after his arrival in Italy, he wrote one letter
to a presbyterian minister; and that some of the Edinburgh clergymen mani-
fested considerable obstinacy in throwing discredit upon the reality of tlie con-
spiracy. The two former are of themselves so weak, that we pass tliem over
the more willingly, that we shall immediately point out the motives from which

234

JAMES VI.

Gowrie acted, and the sort of assistance upon which he really relied. The con-
duct of tlie clergymen admits of an easy explanation. James, whose perception
was nearly as acute as his cliaiacter was weak, was fully sensible of tlie ridicule
to which he had exposed himself, by allowing liis desire of money to lead liini
into so shallow a devii'e as Kuthven's. In addition to tiiis, he wished, upon all
oc(Visions, to appear as nmch of the hero as possible. 'Ihe consequence was,
that liis edition of the story was so dressed up, as to render it inconsistent ; first,
witii his well-known character; secondly, with the most distant possibility of his
having been deceived with the master's pretences ; and, thirdly, with the deposi-
tions of the witnesses. Inconsistencies so startling were sufficient to justify some
preliminary scepticism ; and if ever there was an occasion, where it was allowa-
ble openly to call a king's word in question, it was when James demanded, not
merely that his party should hypocritically profess a belief whi(;h they did not en-
tertain, but that they should, daringly and blasphemously, mix up this falsehood
in the solemn services of devotion. A short time, however, was sufficient to
convince the most incredulous of the truth of the conspiracy, stripped of the
adventitious circumstances which the king linked with it; and the obstinate re-
cusancy of Bruce the clergyman is sutTiciently accounted for, by James's insisting
upon prescribing the manner in which he was to treat the matter, and by that
individual's overstrained notions of the guilt incurred by a minister, who allowed
any one to dictate to him concerning the mode in which he was to conduct pub-
lic worship.

But Gowrie relied upon the support of no faction, religious or political.
His sole motive seems to have been a fantastic idea of the duty incumbent upon
him to revenge his father's death. He is reported, on one occasion, when some
one directed his attention to a person who had been euiployed as an agent
against his father, to have said, " Aquila non capiat muscas." Buthven also ex-
pressly declaimed to the king, when he held liim prisoner in the closet, that his
only object was to obtain revenge for the death of his father. '1 he letters of
Logan (except in one solitary instan(;e, where a scheme of aggrandisement is
darkly hinted at, and that as something quite irrelevant to the purpose they had
on hand) harp on this string alone, proving that Gowrie and his friends seek
only " for the revange of that cawse." The only members of the conspiracy
who are known to us, are men likely enough to engage in such a. cause, but
most unlikely to be either leaders or followers in a union, where the parties
were bound together by an attachment to certain political principles. The three
conspirators are, the earl and his brother, such as Ave have already described
them, and Logan of Keslalrig, a broken man — a retainer and partisan of Both-
well — a maintainer of thieves and sorners — a man who expressly objects to coni-
munirating their project to one who he fears " vill disswade us tVa owr purpose
y' ressounes of leligion, quhilk I can never abyd." And if any more evidence
were required to show how little Gowrie relied ujton the presbyterians, we
might allude to his anxiety that Logan should sound his brother, lord Home —
a catholic.

In short, every thing leads us to the opinion we have already announced,
that the Uulhvens were instigated to their enterprise by feelings of private le-
venge alone, and that they did not seek to make any political party subsei"vient
to their purposes. It is to this isolated nature of their undertaking — its utter
want of connexion with the political movements of the period — that we attribute
the circumstance of its history having so long remained unknown, and are satis-
fied that much of that history must ever remain a riddle. It is with it, as with
the adventin-es of the Iron Mask, and that whole class of events which seem
political, merely because they befall persons who rank high in the state. They

\

JAMES VI. 236

generally appear more mysterious than they really are ; because, if no chance
unveils them at the time, they stand too far apart from all other transactions,
to receive any reflected liglit from tlieiii.'

On the 9th of November, 1600, was born ( harles, James's second son, after-
wards Charles I. of England. With that country the king now carried on a
close correspondence ; first, with the earl of Essex, whom, on hearing of his
imprisonment, he besought Elizabeth to spare, and afterwards, witii the earl of
Northumberland, Sir Kobert Cecil, and other influential men, on the subject of
his title to the English succession, which was generally acknowledged by the
distinguished men connected with the English court.

On the 28th of March, IG03, Elizabeth expired, having named James as her
successor, who was accordingly proclaimed king of England. His claim to the
succession arose from his relationship to Margaret, daughter of Henry VII.,
who married James IV. of Scotland, great-grandfather of James VI. Innnedi-
atcly after Elizabeth's decease, Sir Robert Carey, who had formerly been kindly
entertained by James, set oft' on a private expedition to Scotland, to convey to
the new sovereign the message. Leaving London on Thursday morning, and
stopping at his estate of Witherington on tiie way, from which lie issued orders
for proclaiming James at several places in the north of England, he reached
Edinburgh on Saturday night, when the king had gone to bed, but, gaining ad-
mission, saluted him as king of England. Next morning Carey was created
gentleman of the bed-chamber, and was at last elevated by Charles I. to the
title of earl of iMonmouth. The regular messengers to James, announcing his
succession, soon arrived. One of the attendants, called Davis, the king recog-
nized as the author of a poem on the immortality of the soul, which seems to
have given him high satisfaction, and promised him his patronage, which he af-
terwards failiifully bestowed. Indeed, James, as a patron of literary merit, is
entitled to respectful observation. He had already acted a munificent part in
the foundation of the university of Edinburgh.

On the Sunday after his accession, the king attended at the High church,
and, after sermon, addressed the audience on his afl'ection for his Scottish sub-
jects ; and after committing his children to the care of trusty nobles, and
making arrangements for the management of Scottish business, he set oft', with
a small immber of attendants, from his ancient kingdom, over which he had
reigned for thirty-five years. The reception he met with on the way was very
magnificent, especially at Sir Robert Cecil's, Sir Anthony 3Iildmay's, and 3Ir
Oliver Crom>veirs.^ In his progress, many petitions were presented and
granted — volumes of poems were laid before him by the university of Cambridge,
and the honour of knighthood was conferred on no fewer than two hundred and
thirty-seven individuals. Even in these circumstances, however, he displayed
his notions of royal prerogative, by ordering the recorder of Xe^vark to execute
a cut-pui-se, apprehended on the way. On reaching London, he added to the
privy council six Scottish favourites, and also lord Montjoy, and lords Thomas
and Henry Howard, the son and brother of the late duke of Norfolk ; and, on
the 20th of May, created several peers. Numerous congratulations flowed in
upon the king. Ihe marquis de Rosni, afterwards duke of Sully, arrived on
the I5th of .lune. The following 8ket<;h of James as he appeared on this oc-
casion to the marquis, is strong and striking : — " He was upright and conscien-
tious ; he had eloquence and even erudition — but less of these than of penetra-

' In tliis account of the conspiracy and summary of the evidence, we use a masterly conden-
sation of the matter of Mr Pitcaun's documents which appeared in tlie lidinbuigli Literarj^
Journal.

' Uncle of the Protector.

236 JAMES VI.

lioD and of the show of learning. He loved to hear discourses on niatiers of
state, and tu have great enterprises proposed to him, uhicli he discussed in a

spirit of system and nieiliod, hut wiiiiout any idea of carrying them into eti'ect

for he naturally hale<l war, and still more to he personally engaged in it — wa?
indolent in all his ai;tions, except hunting, and remiss in affairs, — all indications
of a soft and timid nature, formed to be governed." 1 lie king entertained the
marcjiiis and iiis attendants at dinner; when he spoke with contempt of Eliza
beth — a circumstance which probably arose from tiie control which he was con-
scious she had exercised over him, and especially the idea, which he expresses
in one of the documents in the negotiations on an alliance with Spain, tluat she
was concerned in the attempts of his Scottish enemies against him — and also of
a double marriage he desired, between the French and English royal families.

The queen followed James a few weeks after his arrival, having on the eve
of her departure quarreled with the earl of Mar, to whom James had committed
tlie care of prince Henry, and whose letter to her, advising her not to treat
him with disrespect, excited the passion of that high-spirited woman. She was
crowned, along with her husband, on the •25th of July, by archbishop Whitgift,
with all the ancient solenniiiy of that imposing ceremony. He soon after, bv
proclamation, called upon his subjects to solemnize the 5lh of August in honour
of his escape from the (iowrie conspiracy.

At the connnencenient of the following year was held the famous Hampton-
court conference. On the tirst day, a few select individuals only were admitted
to tile king : on the following, four puritan ministers, chosen by the king him-
self, appeared — and his niajesty presided as moderator. He conversed in Latin,
and engaged in dispute with Dr lieynolds. In ans\\er to an objection against
the Apocrypha started by that learned divine, the king interpreted one of the
chaptei-s of Ecclesiasticus, according to his o^vn ideas. He also pronounced an
unmeasured attack on presbytery, which he said, "agreed as well with monarcliv
as God and the devil.' — " Stay,'' he added, " I pray, for one seven years,
before you demand; and then, if you tind me grown pursy and fat, I may per-
chance hearken unto you. For that government will keep me in breath, and
give me work enough." On tliis occasion, Bancroft, bishop of London, flattered
him as " such a king, as, since Christ's time, the like had not been," — and
\\ hitgift professed to believe that his majesty spoke under the special intluence
of the Holy Spirit. With such ikittery, is it to be greatly wondered at, that
the king esteemed hiniself an accomplished theological disputant.? hideed, the
whole conference seems to have been managed in a most unreasonable manner.
It was followed by a proclamation enforcing conformity, and a number ol
puritans, both clergy and laity, severely sutiered.

In IVlarch, IGOl-, the king, the queen, and the prince, rode in splendid pro-
cession from the Tower to \\ hitehall ; and, at the meeting of parliament, a few-
days after, James delivered his tirst speech to that assembly. One part of it ex-
cited general disapprobation — that in which he expressed himself willing to
favour the Roman catholics — a feeling on his part which probably arose from
the prospects atVoriled him of friendship with countries so powerful as France
and Spain, and also, perhaps, from some degree of attachment to the liomisii
faith, as that r)f his royal ancestoi-s. At this meeting of parliament, the king-
also brought forward his favourite proposal of a union bet\\ixt England and
Scotland, the result of wiucii was the appointment of a connniltee for drawing
up articles of union ; one of the most zealous members of which was Sir Francis
Bacon. To this great man Jamt-s showed strong attachment; and, even if Sir
Francis had not proved himself to be devoted with peculiar ardour to the king,
it may be supposed that he would have been regarded by the latter with peculiar

JAMES VI. 237

pride, from that splendid series of publications which he had already be^n to
publish, and of which "The Advancement of Learning," with a very flat-
tering dedication t(» the king, came forth in 1(J05.

A great part of the summer following the meeting of parliament, the kinsj
devoted to his favourite sport of hunting — bis attachment to which continued
through life, even when corpulence, arising from excess in drinking, wbicli was
a noted fault of James, had unfitted him for every active exercise. About this
time, we find him engaged in arranging a marriage between Sir Philip Herbert
and lady Susan Vere ; writing from Royston to the coun(;il, that hunting was
the only means to maintain his health, desiring them to take the charge and
burden of atfairs, and foresee thai he should not be interrupted nor troubled with
too nmcli business ; and incjuiring into the case of Haddock, called tlie sleeping
preacher, from his being said to deliver excellent sermons, and speak excellent
Greek and Hebrew in the midst of sleep, although very stupid when awake,
who ivas brought by the king to confess that the whole was an imposture. But
James was soon placed in a more serious situation, by the celebrated Gunpowder
Plot, which was discovered ou the 5th of November, for which day parliament
had been suunnoned. A letter was found, supposed to have been written by the
sister of lord iMonteagle, ^\]\o, though approving of the conspiracy, and the wife
of one of the conspirators, wished to preserve her brother from the meditated
ruin. On examination, barrels of gunpowder were found deposited below the
place where parliament was just about to meet, and the very train and match
for the discharge of their contents were in readiness. Ihe conspii-ators were,
with considerable difficulty, discovered, and Avere found to comprehend some
Jesuits ; and to have been united by their common attachment to the Roman
catholic religion, which in England had been lately treated with increased
severity. Indeed there is much reason to believe that the plot in some degree
depended on Spanish influence. At the meeting of parliament, a few days after-
wards, James expatiated at great length on this terrible conspiracy ; but still
expressed himself indulgent to the English catholics. Shortly after appeared
" A Discourse on the Gunpowder Plot," A\hich is supposed to have been the
composition of the king. The conspirators were condennied, and acts against
the catholics were passed in parliament; but James continued to discover liis
unwillingness to treat them with severity.

In July, 1G06, he received a visit from the king of Denmark, who was wel-
comed with imposing splendour. Prince Vandemont, a French relative of
James, also paid a visit about this time to his royal kinsman. In November,
the king again supported, before the parliament, his favourite scheme of a
union between his Scottish and English kingdoms. The following passages give
a curious example of his mode of conversation. The circumstances are given by
Harrington, as having occurred about this time : — " He engaged much of
learning, and showed me his own in such a sort as made me remember my
examiner at Cambridge aforetime. He sought nmch to know my advances in
philosophy, and introduced profound sentences of Aristotle, and sucli-like writers,
which 1 had never read, and which some are bold enough to say, others do not
understand." — " The prince did now press my reading to him part of a canto
in Ariosto, praised my utterance, and said he had been informed of many as to
my learning, in the time of the queen. He asked me what I thought pure wit
was made of, and when it did best become ; whether a king should not be the
best clerk in his own country ; and if this land did not entertain good opinion
of his learning and good wisdom. His majesty did next press for my opinion
touching the power of Satan in matters of witchcraft, and asked me with much
gravity, if I did truly understand why the devil did work more with ancient

238 JAMES VI.

women than otlicrs." His majesty asked much concerning my opinion of the
new weed toljacco, and said it >voul«l, by its use infuse ill qualities on the
brain, and tliat no learned man ouj^i-lit to taste it, and wished it forhidden.
After dis<'.oursin<r on reiinion, at leiiijth he said " 1 {»ray yoti, do me justice in
your re|»<)rt, and in e^ood s^'ason I will not fail to add to your luiderslandiiig, in
6Ui;li points as 1 may find you lack amendment." Before this time the king
had published not only his " Demonology," but also " A Counterblast to
Tobawx)."

In 1G07, he published an answer to a work by Tyrone, and soon after his
" Triplif;! nodo triplex Cuneus," — a defence of an oath which was imposed on
foreiijners by an act of parliament, after the ^Tunpowder Plot. In I()09, he re-
piibliglxed it, «ith a dedication to all Christian kings and princes, answers having
been previously made to it by Bellarniine, and other Avriters. 'Ibis has been
considered as among the best of the king's productions, and is characterized by
a late historian of his court, as " a learned defence of protestant princ^iples, an
acute exposure of the false statements and false reasonings of Bellarmine, and a
vigorous but not intemperate manifesto against papal usurpation and tyranny ;
yet a vain and useless ostentation of parts and knowledge : and a truer
judgment, by admonishing the royal author of the incompatil)ility of the polemi-
cal character with the policy and dignity of a sovereign, would have spared him
Uie numerous mortifications and inconveniences which ensued." '

One great cause of the king's unpopularity was his excessive favour for a
Scotsman of the name of Carr. In February, 1610, at the meeting of parlia-
ment, he did not a]>pear in person, but he had the nutrtification soon after, of
having his plan of a union disapproved by parliament, and a supply to himself
refused, 'I'hey were accordingly summoned to meet the king at Whitehall,
where he explained to them his singular views of royal prerogative. The same
year, Henry was appointed prince of Wales, on which oc(;asion the ceremonies
were continued for three days.

In 1611, .lames, when on a hunting expedition, received a book on the Na-
ture and Attributes of tiod, by Conrad Vorstius. The king selected several
do<'trines whicli he considered heresies, and wrote to the Dutch government,
signifying his disapprobation — Vorstius having lately received a professorship
of divinity at Leyden, as successor of Arminius. He also ordered the book to
be burned in London. Soon after, Bartholomew Legate \vas brought into his
presence, accused of professing Arianism in the capital, after which he continued
for some time in Newgate, and was tlien burned at Smithfield. About the same
time a similar example of i)arl)arous intolerance occurred. But it was in the same
year that our luiglish translation of the Bible was published — an undertaking
whi<:h the king had set on foot, at the suggestion of Dr Reynolds, in 1604,
which had been executed by forty-seven divines, whom James furnished with in-
structions for the work ; and the fulfilment of which has been justly remarked
aa an event of very high importance in the history of the language, as Avell as of
the religion of (jreat Britain. About the end of this year, the king founded a
college at Chelsea, for controversial tlieology, with a view to answer the papists
and puritans. His own wants, however, now led him to create the title of
baronet, which was sold for £1000; and a man might purchase the rank of
baron for tSOOO, of viscount for tlO,000, and of an carl for £20,000.
He also suffered about this time, by the death of the earl of Salisbury, whom he
visited in bis illness. But a <lomeslic, loss awaited him — which, however, it is said,
occnsioried him slighter suffering than might have been expected, although the
nation felt it as a painful stroke. During preparations for the marriage of the
* Aiken's Court of James.

JAMES VI. 239

princess, the king's daughter, to the elector palatine, who arrived in England
for the purpose on the Ifith of October, 161-2, prince Henry was cut off by
death, on tlie (ith of Noreuiber, having been taken ill the very day before the
elector's arrival. This young jirince was eminently distinguished by piety
and honour, amiable manners and literary habits. His death-bed was cheered
by the practice and consolations of the religion to which, amidst the seductions
of a court, he had adhered in life, and he died, lamented by his family and
country, in the nineteenth year of his age.

In February, IG13, the princess Elizabeth was married to the elector pala-
tine — not, it is said, without the dissatisfaction of her father. The preparations,
however, were of the most splendid kind : so that means were again adopted to
supply the royal wants, as also in the following year.

In 16 15, James paid a visit to the university of Cambridge, where he re-
sided in Trinity college, and was received with many literary exhibitions, in
the form of disputati<ms, sermons, plays, and orations. In this year he wrote
his " Remonstrance for the right of kings, and the independence of their crowns,"
in answer to a speech delivered at Paris in January by cardinal Perron, who
sent it to James. This year also occurred the celebrated trials for the murder
of Overbury, in the examinations previous to which James personally engaged.
He had now^ lost his enthusiastic attachment to Carr, the person cliieliy accused
of this foul deed, whom he h^d created earl of Somerset, and who had lately
been replaced in his affections by Villiers, the royal cup-bearer, whom he
knighted, and appointed a gentleman of the bed-chamber, and whom he gradu-
ally advanced, until he was created duke of Buckingham.

In 1617, after some changes in the court, James paid a visit to Scotland,
leaving Bacon as principal administrator in his absence. On this occasion
literary exhibitions were presented to him by the universities of Edinburgh and
St Andrews, and he also amused himself with his favourite sport. But he soon
proceeded to enforce the customs of the English hierarchy on the Scottish
people — a measure which, notwithstanding considerable encouragement from a
General Assembly, which had been convoked with a view to the proposed altera-
tions, the nation in general deemed an infringement of a promise he had made
many years before, and which they succeeded, to a considerable degree, in
resisting.

The following year was marked by another act of cruelty. Sir Walter Ral-
eigh, who had been confined in the Tower for twelve years, on the charge of
having been engaged in a Spanish conspiracy, but had at last obtained release
from his imprisonment, was condemned and executed, in consequence of his
marked misconduct in an expedition to explore a mine in Guiana, which he had
represented to the king as well fitted to enrich his exchequer. His execution,
it will scarcely be doubted, was owing to the influence of Gondomar, the Spanish
ambassador, and enemy of Raleigh at the English court, in prospect of a mar-
riage between prince Charles and the Spanish infanUi. Soon after the queen
died, — a woman who seems to have been by no means destitute of estimable
qualities, but still more remarkable for the splendour of her entertainments, to
ivhich Ben Jonson and other writers contributed largely of their wit. Indeed
that eminent dramatist seems to have been a person of considerable consequence
at the English court. At tiiis time James's own literary character was exhibited
to the world in a folio edition of his works, edited, with a preface well seasoned
with flattery, by the bishop of Winchester. Soon after, on an application from
prince IMaurice for the appointment of some English divines, as members of a coun-
cil for the settlement of the controversy between the Arniinians and Gomarists.
which was held at Dort in November, 1618, five learned men were nominated on

240 JAl^IES VI.

tliat commission, directed by James to recommend to the contending parties the
avoidance, in public instruction, of the controverted topics. His favour to the
church of Kni^land was manifested about tlic same time by his treatment of tiie cele-
brated Seliien, who bad written a work on " the history of titlies," in which he
held tlie injustice of considering the alienation of what bad once been church-
lands to any other than ecclesiastical jmrposes, to be in every case an act of sacri-
lege. For tliis »vt>rk the king required an explanation, and it was shortly after-
wards prohibited by the high connnission court. The nation in general was
displeased with the rigour of the king's aduiinislration ; with the plan, which he
had not yet al)andoned, of a marriage between bis son and the infanta of Spain ;
and witli the favouritisui which he manifested, especially towards Villiers, ^vhose
connexions called on him for bountiful provisions, ^vhich the king, at bis re-
quest, witii gross facility, conceded.

In It) 20, the cir(;umstances of his son-in-law, the elector palatine, began to
occupy the particular attention of the king. That prince, after having been
chosen king by the Bohemians, who had thrown off the Austrian sway, and re-
ceived support from various states of (Tcrmany, being at last in a very perilous
condition, and on the 8th November, 1G20, defeated at the battle of Prague.
After much delay, in which he carried on a diplomatic interference, James at last
agreed to send a supply of chosen men. But he soon resigned this active in-
terference in bis behalf; be called in vain for a benevolence from his wealthy
subjects, to enable him, as he said, to give him a vigorous support, in the event
of future urgency ; and, finally, summoned a parliament, which bad not met
for many years, to delibeiate on the subject. It met in January, 1621, — a par-
liament memorable for the investigation it made into the conduct of lord Bacon,
and the sentence it pronounced on that distinguished man, who had published
only a short time before, the second part of his immortal " Novum Organum."
The king, however, had previously promised him either freedom from such a
sentence, or pardon after it, and Bacon accordingly was soon released from im-
prisonment, and, in three years after, fully pardoned by the king. This parlia-
ment also granted supplies to James, but in the same year refused farther sup-
plies to the cause of the palatine. James adjourned it in spite of the remon-
strance of the house of conmions ; and on the same day occurred a well-known
conversation of the king and the bishops Neale and Andrews : " 3Iy lords,"' said
the king, "cannot 1 take my subjects' money when I want it, without all this
formality in parliament ?" " (jod forbid, sir," said Neale, " but you should —
you are the breath of our nostrils." — " W'eU, my lord," rejoined bis majesty to
Andrews, " and what say you ?" He excused himself on the ground of igno-
rance in parliamentary matters. "No put-off, my lord," said James, "answer
me presently." " Then, sir," said the excellent prelate, " I think it lawful for
you to take my brother Neale's money, for he offers it." The king, however,
had himself recommended to this parliament the investigation of abuses, and
especially inveighed against corruption and bribery in couris of law. In this
year be conferred the seals, which Bacon had resigned, upon Williams, afterwards
bishop of Lincoln, who induced him to deliver the earl of Northumberland from
imprisonment ; and soon after, he very creditably interfered for the continuance
of archbishop Abbot in his oHice, after he had involuntarily committed an act of
homicide.

Parliament meeting again in February, 1022, the commons prepiired a re-
monstrance to the king on the dissatisfaction which was generally felt with the
position of affiirs, both at Inmie and abroad, and calling on him to resist the
measures of the king of Spain — to enforce the laws against popery — marry his
son to a protestant — support protestantism abroad, and give his sanction to the

JAMES VI. 241

bills which they sliould pass ^vitl^ ii view to the interest of the nation. On hear-
ing of this proceeding, the king addressed an intemperate letter to the speaker,
asserting as usual, tlie interest of his '* prerogative-royal." It was answered by
the conunons in a manly and loyal address, to which the king replied in a let-
ter still more intemperate than the former. The conmions, notwithstanding,
drew up and recorded a protest, claiming tlie right of delivering tiieir sentiments,
and of deciding fi-eely, without exposure to impeachment from their speeches in
parliamentary debate, and proposing that, should there be objection made to any
tiling said by a member in the house, it should be officially reported to the
king, before he should receive as true any private statement on the subject.
This protest the king tore out of the journal of the house, ordered the deed to
be registered, and imprisoned several of the individuals concerned, who, how-
ever, were soon afterwards liberated. But James still maintained his own au-
thority ; he strictly prohibited the general discussion of political subjects, and
enjoined on the clergy a variety of rules, guarding them against preaching on
several subjects, some of which nmst be regarded as important parts of the sys-
tem which it is the duty of tlie clergy to proclaim.

On the 17th of P^ebruary, IG23, prince Charles and the marquis of Bucking-
ham set off on a visit to Spain, with a view to the marriage of the former with
the infanta — although the king had resisted the proposal of this journey, which
had been urgently made by the prince and Buckingham. On the circumstance
being known in England, the favourite was loudly blamed, and the prince sus-
pected of an attachment to popery. The travellers proceeded in disguise,
visited Paris for a single day, and reached iMadrid on the 6th of March. The
earl of Bristol, the English ambassador, met them with surprise.* James corre-
sponded with them in a very characteristic manner, and sent a large supply of
jewels and other ornaments, as a present for the infanta. The Spaniards were
generally anxious for the consunnnation of the marriage. But the pope, un-
willing to grant a dispensation, addressed to Charles a letter entreating him to
embrace the Roman catholic religion, to which the prince replied in terms ex-
pressive of respect for the Komish church.

Accordingly, all was prepared for the marriage, which was appointed to taKO
place on the 29th of August, But before the day arrived, pope tiregory had
died — a circumstance which destroyed the force of the matrinmnial articles ;
and the prince left Spain in the midst of general demonstrations of attachment
to his person, and inclination towards the intended marriage. On his way to
England, however, he discovered a coldness towards the measure, and shortly
after his arrival in October, the king acceding to the proposal cf the favourite,
who was displeased at his reception in Spain, a letter was sent to the earl of
Bristol, ordering him not to grant the proxy which was required according to
the treaty, after the papal dispensation was obtained, before security should be
given by Spain for the restoration of the Palatine. But even after the king of
Spain had agreed to this ])roposal, James, persuaded by the favourite, expressed
a wish that the matter should be broken off. But the low state of pecuniary
resources into which these negotiations had reduced the English king, induced
him to call a parliament, which met Eebruary, 1G24, to which he submitted the
matters about which he was now particularly interested. It offered supplies to
the king for a war with Spain. War was declared, and the favourite «)f the
king became the favourite of a large proportion of the nation. About the same
time, an accusation of Buckingham, for his conduct in regard to Spain and
Bohemia, was presented secretly to the king by the marquis Inojoso. It threw
his majesty into excessive agitation; and on setting out for Windsor, he repulsed
the duke, as he offered to enter the royal carriage. The duke inquired, with

242 GEORGE JAMESONE.

tears, in what respect he had transgressed, but received only tears and reproaches
in return. On receiving an answer by Willianis, to the charges against the
dulie, he again received him into favour, and soon after broke ort" all friendly
negotiations with Spain. He resisted, however — though not successfully — the
proposal of Buckingham and Charles, that he should impeach the lord treasurer,
on the ground of corruption in ortire. He also resisted — with much better
reason — the petition of Buckingham, that the earl of Bristol should be forced to
submit, exclaiming " 1 were to be accounted a tyrant to engage an innocent
nmn to confess faults of which he was not guilty." The earl, however, was pre-
vented iVom appearing in the presence of the king, who also cautioned the par-
liament against seeking out grievances to remedy, although they might apply a
cure to obviously existing ones.

June, 1624, was occupied by the king and Buckingham in carrying on
measures for a marriage between prince Charles and Henrietta 3Iaria, sister of
Louis Xlll. and daughter of Henry IV. ; and on the lOlh of Noveml)er, a dis-
pensation having been with some ditficulty obtained from the pope, the nuptial
articles were signed at Paris. But in the spring of 16-25, the king, whose con-
stitution had previously surt'ered severely, was seized with ague, of which he died
at riieobald's on the •27th of ^larch. in the o'Jth year of his age. He was buried
in \\'estminster abbey, and the funeral sermon was preached by ^^ illiauis.

On the character of James, so palpable and generally known, it is not neces-
sary to orter nuiny observations. 3Iuch of his conduct is to be attributed in a
great measure to his political advisers, who were often neither wise nor faithful.
His own character embraced niany combinations of what may be almost denomi-
nated inconsistencies. He was peculiarly subject to the influence of favour-
ites, and yet exceedingly disposed to interfere with the course of political
affairs. Indeed, to his warm and exclusive attachments, combined with his ex-
travagant ideas of his own otfice and authority, may be traced the principal er-
rors of his reign. He was, accordingly, irresolute, and yet often too ready to
comply ; sensible to feeling, and yet addicted to severity ; undignified in man-
ner, and yet tyrannical in government. . Erring as was his judgment, his
learning cannot be denied, though the use he often made of it, and especially
the modes in which he showed it in the coui-se of conversation, have been, with
reason, the subjects of amusement. His superstition was gi-eat, but perhaps not
excessive for the age in which he lived ; and it is said, that in his later days
lie put no faith in witchcraft. His religion was probal)ly in some degree sin-
cere, though neither settled nor commanding. Neither his writings nor his
political courses, it is to be feared, have done much directly to advance the in-
terests of liberal and prudent policy ; but in both there are pleasing specimens
of wisdom, and both may teach us a useful lesson, by I'urnishing a melancholy
view of the nature and tendency of tyranny, even when in some degree con-
trolled by the checks of parliamentary influence and popular opinion.

J.\3I1^S0NF., Gkorge, the first eminent painter produced by Britain, was born
at Aberdeen towards the end of the 1 (ith century. The year 1 58(3 has been given
as the precise era of his birth, but this we can disprove by an extract \\hich
has been furnished to us from the burgh records of his native town, and which
shows that the eldest child of his parents (a daughter) was born at such a period
of this year, as rendered it impossible that he could have been born within some
months of it.' It is alone certain that the date of tlie painter's birth was

' The marriage of the parents of Jamesone is thus entered in these buigh records;
" Thair is promess of marriage bitwix

And" JamestPiie 7 : i-.u a .o» iso;; "

., . , J > m liih August, looo.

IVIarjore Aiidersone y ^'

GEORGE JAJIESONE. 243

posterior to 1586. Of the private life of this distinguished man few parti-
culare are known ; and of tliese few a portion rest on ratlier doubtful au-
thority. Previously to his appearance, no man had so far succeeded in at.
trading the national attention of Scotland to productions in painting, as to reni
der an artist a person whose appearance in the country was to be greatly
marked : at that period of our history, too, men had otiier matters to occupy
their minds ; and it may well be believed, that, in passing through the fiery or-
deal of the times, many men who in peace and prosperity miglit have had their
minds attracted to the ornamental arts, were absorbed in feelings of a very dif-
ferent order, which hardly allowed them an opportunity of knowing, far less of
indulging in the elegant occupations of peace. The father of .lamesone was
Andrew Jamesone, burgess of guild of Aberdeen, and his mother was .Marjory
Anderson, daughter of Uavid Anderson, one of the magistrates of that city.
What should have prompted the parents of the young painter to adopt the very
unusual measure of sending their son from a quiet fireside in Aberdeen, to study
under Peter Paul Rubens in Antwerp, nmst remain a mystery. The father is
said to have been an architect, and it is probable that he had knowledge enough
of art to remark the rising genius of his child, and was liberal enough to per-
ceive the height to which the best foreign education might raise the possessor of
that genius. If a certain Flemish building projecting into one of the nar-
row streets of Aberdeen, and known by the name of " Jamesone's house," be
the production of the architectural talents of the elder Jamesone, as the period
of the style may render not unlikely, he must have been a man of taste and
judgment. Under Rubens, Jamesone had for his fellow scholar Sir Anthony
Vandyke, and the early intercourse of these two artists had the effect of making
the portraits of each be mistaken for those of the other. In 1G20, Jamesone
returned to Aberdeen, and established himself as a portrait-painter. He there,
on the [2th of November, 16 24, married ^liss IsobelTosh," a lady with whom he
seems to have enjoyed much matrimonial felicity, and \>lio, if we may judge by
her husband's representation of her in one of his best pictures,^ must have been a
person of very considerable attractions ; he had by her seveial children, of whom
the sons seem to have all met early deaths, a daughter being the only child he left
behind him.*

Soon after the above entry, there occurs one regarding the baptism of their eldest child, the
sister of the painter, in tliese terms :

" The penult day July, 15S6. Ando. Jamesone, Marjore Andersone, dochtar in mareage,
calh't Elspett ; James Robertson, Edward Donaldson, Elspatt Cuttes, Elspatt Mydilton, wit-
nesses."

* The marriage is thus entered in the burgh records : " I2ih November, 1624', George
Jamesouiie, Isobell I'osche."

^ Tliis picture represents the painter himself, and his wife and daughter. The grouping is
very neat, and the altitudes of tlie hands as free from stiffness as those of almost any picture
of the age. The daughter is a tine round-cheeked spirited-looking girl, apparently about 12
years old. Walpole says this picture was painted in 16x3. From the date of Jamesone's
marriage, this must be a mistake. This picture was engraved h\ Alexander Jamesone,
a descendant of the painter, in 1728, and a very ne<it line engraving of it is to be found in
Dallaway's edition of Walpole's Anecdotes.

* The following entry in the council records of Aberdeen relates to the birth of one of
Jamesone's children: " 1C29 jieris — George Jamesone and Toche, ane sone, bap-
tized be Mr Robert Baron the 27th day of July, caliit William-, Mr Patrick Done, Robert
Alexander, .Andrew IMeldrum, William Gordone, god-fathers." The next notice of him
which we find in the same authority shows, that on the 2d January 1630, he was present at
the baptism of a child of " James Toshe," probably a relation of his wife, at which, it may
be mentioned, AVilliam Forbes, bishop of Edinburgh, otKciated. In Dctober of the same year
we find him again demanding a similar duty for his own family : "October, 1630 yeires,
George Jamesone and Isobell Toshe, ane sone, baptized the 27th day, caliit Paull ; Paull
IMenzies of Kinmundie, provest, Mr Alexander Jaliray, bailzie, .Mr David AN'eddcrburne,
Mr Robert Patrie, Patrick Jack, Patrick Fergusson, Andrew Straclum, godfathers." This

244 GEORGE JAMESONE.

A curious eridence of the locality of Jamesone's residence in Aberdeen is to be
found in an epigram on thai city, by tlie painter's intimate friend Arthur
Johnstone, author of the Latin version of ihe Psalms. It is interesting, a5
proving that Janiesone possesse'i uhat was then seldom to be found in Scotland,
a habitation, which added to the mere protection from the inclemency of the
seasons, some attempt to acquire the additions of comfort and taste. 'Ihe epi-
gram proceeds thus —

Hanc quoque Lanaris mons omat, amoenior iUi'=,

Hiiic fcrrugineis Spada color;it aquis :
Inde suburbainim Jamesoni despicis horliim

Quern domini pirtum suspicior esse manu.

In " A Succinct Survey of the famous city of Aberdeen, by Philopoliteius," the
passage is thus " done " into what the author is pleased to term " English :"

" The Woolman hill, which all the rest outvies
In pleasantness, this city beautifies ;
There is the well of Spa, that healthfid font,
Whose yme-hewed water coloureth the mount ;
Not far trorn thence a garden's to be seen
■\Vhich unto Jamesons did appertain :
Wherein a little pleasant house doth stand,
Painted as I guess with its master's hand."*

Jamesone appears to have been in Edinburgh during the visit of king Charles
the First in the year ltj33. To gratify the taste of that prince he was employed
by the magistrates to paint portraits, as nearly resembling probable likenesses
as he could devise, of some of the real or supposed early kings of Scot-
land. These productions had the good fortune to give satisfaction, and the un-
happy king, who had soon far ditferent matters to occupy his attention, sat for
his portrait, and rewrrded the artist with a diamond ring from his own finger.
It is alleged that the painter was on this occasion indulged with a permission to
remain covered in the presence of majesty, a circumstance which is made to
account for his having al\\a\s represented himself (and he was not sparing in

is a curious evridence of Jamesone's respectability as a citizen. Paul, afterwards Sir Paul
Menzits, a man of considerable note in Aberdeenshire, and provost of the city, appears to
have been name-fiitlier, and Alexander Jatfrey, another of the sponsors, was himself after-
wards provost. The extractor of these entiies remarks, that the chief m;(gi>trate appears lo
have acted as sponsor onh' at the baptisms of the children of very influential citizens.

* With farther reference to this piece of pleasure ground, and an anxiety to collect every
scrap of matter which concerns Jamesone, we give the following entry, regarding a petition,
of date the loth of January, 16J5, given in to the town council of Aberdeen by " Mr John
Alexander, advocate in P^dinburgh, makand mention that where that piece of ground callit
tlie play-field besyd )* Wolman-hiil (quhilk was set to umquhill George Jamesone, painter,
burges of Efiinburgh in liferent, and buildet be him in a garden) is now unprofitable, and
thai the said John Alexander, sone in law lo the said umquhill George Jamesone, is desirous
to have the same peice of ground set to him in few htrilablie to be houlden of the provest,
bailzies, and of the burghe of Aberdene, for pa\ ment of a reasonable lew dutie \eirlie their-
for;" pra\ing the magistrates to set to him in feu tack the foresaid pi< ce of ground : the
request is granted by the magistrates, and farther official mention is made of the transaction
of date the lOlh November, 1646, where the " marches" of the garden are set forth in full.
This piece of ground was the ancient " Play-field " of the burgh, which remained disused,
after the Keformation had terminated the pageants and masteries there performed. Persons
connected with Aberdeen will know th< spot when thev are informed, that it is the pirce of
flat ground extending from the well of Spa to Jack's brae, bounded on the east h\ the Wool,
man hill, and the bum running at its foot; on the south b\ the Denburn, and the ridge of
ground on which Skene street now stands; on the webt b\ Jack's brae, and on the north by
tlie declivity occupied by the Gijcomston brewerj. The appropriation of the spot to the
garden of the painter is stiil noted by the name of a fountain, called " The Garden Neuk
Well."—- Council Record of Aberdeen, liii. p. 37, 98.

GEOKGB JAMESONE. 245

portraits of himself,) witli liis hat on : neither is the permission characteristic of
the inonarch, nor its adoption by the artist ; and tlie peculiarity may he better
attributed to a slavish imitation of his master Rubens, in a practice wiiich had
been sanctioned by the <;hoice of (3arracci and (juido.

It is probable that the patronage and notice of the monarch were the cir-
cumstances which introduced the paintings of Jamesone to the notice of the
nobility. He appears, soon after the period we have alluded to, to have com-
menced a laborious course of portrait-painting, then, as now, the most lucrative
branch of the art ; and the many portraits of tiieir ancestors, still in possession
of families dispersed tiirough various parts of Scotland, attest tlie extent of his
industry. The Campbells of Glenorchy, then an opulent and powerful family,
distinguished themselves by their patronage of Jamesone. What countenance
he may have obtained from other quarters we do not know, and the almost utter
silence regarding so great a man on the part of contemporaries, makes a docu-
ment wiiich Walpole has rescued from oblivion, relative to his labours for the
J'amily of Glenorchy, highly interesting. From a MS, on vellum, containing
the genealogy of tlie house of Glenorchy, begun in 1598, are taken the fol-
lowing extracts, written in 1635, page 52 : — " Item, the said Sir Coline Camp-
bell, (eighth laird of Glenorchy,) gave unto George Jamesone, painter in Edin-
burgh, forking Robert and king David Bruysses, kings of Scotland, and Ciiarles
I., king of Great Brittane, France, and Ireland, and his majesties quein, and
for nine more of the queins of Scotland, their portraits, quhilks are set up in the
hall of Balloch (now Tay mouth), the sum of twa hundreth thrie scor pounds." —
*' Mair the said Sir Coline gave to the said George Jamesone for the knight of
Lochow's lady, and the first countess of Argylle, and six of the ladys of Glen-
lirquhay, their portraits, and the said Sir Coline his own portrait, quhilks are
set up in the chalmer of deas of Balloch, ane hundreth four scoire punds."
There is a further memorandum, intimating that in 1635, Jamesone painted the
family tree of the house of Glenorchy, eight feet long by five broad. What
may have become of the portraits of Robert and David Bruce, and of the nine
queens, which must have taxed the inventive talents of the artist, we do not
know. Their loss may be, however, of little consequence, as we can easily ar-
gue from the general efiect of Janiesone's productions, that his talent consisted
in giving life and expression to the features before him, and not in design.
The other paintings have, however, been carefully preserved by the family
into whose hands they fell. They consist of portraits of Sir Duncan Campbell,
the earl of Airth, John earl of Rothes, James marquis of Hamilton, Archibald
lord Napier, William earl of ftlarischal, chancellor Loudoun, lord Binning, the
earl of JMar, Sir Robert Campbell, Sir John Campbell, and the genealogical
tree mentioned in the memorandum. All these are, we believe, still to be seen
in good preservation in Taymouth castle, where in 1769 they were visited by
Pennant, who thus describes the genealogical tree : " That singular perf(n-mance
of his, the genealogical picture, is in good preservation. The chief of (he Ar-
gyle family is placed recumbent at the foot of a tree, with a branch ; on the
right is a single head of his eldest son. Sir Duncan Campbell, laird of Lochow ;
but on the various ramifications are the names of his descendants, and along the
body of the tree are nine small heads, in oval frames, with the names on the
margins, all done with great neatness : the second son wjis first of the house of
Breadalbane, which branched from the other above four hundred jears ago.
In a corner is inscribed ' The Geneologie of the House of Glenorqubie, qiihair-
of is descendit sundrie nobil and vvorthie houses. Jameson faciefiat, 1635.'"'

' Walpole's Anc'cHotes of Painting, i. 24.
' Tour, 1769, p. 87.

246 GEORGE JAMESONE.

After .1 life uliicli must have been spent in great industry, and enjoying inde-
pendence, and even wealth, Janiesone died at Edinburgh in 1611, and v»as
buried without a monument in tlie Grey Friars' churcii there.

Walpoie, who obtained liis inforuiation from a relation of the painter, says,
" By his will, written with his own hand in .Inly, KM I, and breathing a spirit
of much piety and benevolence, he provides kindly fur his wife and children,
and leaves many legacies to his relations and friends, particularly to lord Rothes
the king's pictiu-e froui head to foot, and Mary with .Martha in one piece : to
William 3Iurray he gives the medals in his coffer; makes a handsome provision
for his natural daughter ; and bestows liberally on the poor. That he should be
in a condition to do all this, seems extraordinary, his prices having been so
moderate ; for, enumerating the debts due to him, he charges lady Haddington
for a whole length of her husband, and lady Seton, of the same dimensions,
frames and all, but three hundred marks : and lord Maxwell for his own picture
and his lady's to their knees, one hundred marks, both sums of Scots money."^
The average remuneration which Janiesone received for his portraits is calculated
at twenty pounds Scots, or one pound thirteen shillings and four pence sterling.
People have wondered at the extreme smallness of the sum paid to so great an
artist; but, measured by its true standard, the price of necessary provisions, it
was in reality pretty considerable, and may easily be supposed to have enabled
an industrious man to amass a comfortable fortune. AValpole continues, '* Mr
Janiesone (the relation from whom the facts of the account were received), has
likewise a memorandum written and signed by this painter, mentioning a MS.
in his possession, ' containing two hundred leaves of parchment of excellent
write, adorned with diverse historys of our Saviour curiously limned,' whi(;h he
values at two hundred pounds sterling, a very large sum at that time ! What is
become of that curious book is not known." It is probable that the term
" sterling " affixed to the sum, is a mistake. It was seldom if ever used in Scot-
land at the period when Janiesone lived. We are not given to understand that
tlie " limning" was of the painter's own work, and we are not to presume he
was in possession of a volume, superior in value to the produce of many yeai"s
labour in his profession. The manuscript, though mentioned with an estimation
so disproportionate to that of the works of its proprietor, was prol)ably some
worthless volume of monkish illuminations, of which it would waste time to trace
the ownership. The description might apply to a manuscript " i^Iirror of the
Life of Christ," extant in the Advocates' Jyibrary.

We have already mentioned a considerable number of the portraits by Janie-
sone as extant in Taymouth castle. An almost equal number is in the possession
of the Alva family; and others are dispersed in smaller numbers. Carnegie of
Southesk possesses portraits of some of his ancestors, by Janiesone, who was con-
nected with the family. Mr Carnegie, town clerk of Aberdeen, possesses
several of his pictures in very good preservation, and among them is the original
of the portrait of the artist himself, which has been engraved for this work.
Another individual in Aberdeen possesses a highly curious portrait by Janiesone
of the artist's uncle, David Anderson of Finzeauch, merchant- burgess of Aber-
deen, an eccentric character, the variety of whose occupations and studies pro-
cured him the epithet of " Uavie do a' thing." Some of Jamesone's portraits
hang in tiie hall of i\Iarischal college in a state of wretched preservation. Sir
Paul Menzies, provost of Aberdeen, presents us with a striking cast of counte-
nance boldly executed ; but in general these are among the inferior productions
of Janiesone. They are on board, the material on which he painted his earlier
productions (and which he afterwards changed for fine canvas), and are reniark-
' Aiitcilolt's, i. 250.

\

GEORGE JAMESONE. 247

able for the stiffness of the hands, and the awkward airangenient of the dress ;
two defects, whicli, especially in the case of the former, he afterwards overcame.
Tliere is in the same room a portrait of Charles 1. of some merit, which the ex-
hibitor of the curiosities in the university generally attributes to Vandyke. It
is probably the work of .lamesone, but it may be observed, that thei'e is more
calm dignity in the attitude, and much less expression, tiian that artist general-
ly exhibits. Walpole and others mention as extant in the King's college of
Aberdeen, a picture called the " Sibyls," partly executed by Jamesone, and
copied from living beauties in Aberdeen : if this curious production still exists in
the same situation, we are unaware of its being generally exhibited to strangei's.
Tiiere is a picture in King's college attributed to Jamesone, >vhicli we would
fain bestow on some less celebrated hand. It is a view of King's college as ori-
ginally erected, the same from uhich the engi-aving prefixed to Orem's account
of the (;athedral church of Old Aberdeen, is copied. It represents an aspect
much the same as that which Slezer has given in his Theatrum Scotiae, and, like
the works of that artist, who could exhibit both sides of a building at once, it
sets all perspective at defiance, and most unreasonably contorts the human figure.
In characterizing the manner of Jamesone, Walpole observes that " his excel-
lence is said to consist in delicacy and softness, with a clear and beautifoJ
colouring; his shades not charged, but helped by varnish, with little appear-
ance of the pencil." This account is by one who has not seen any of the
artist's paintings, and is very unsatisfactory.

It is indeed not without reason, that the portraits of Jamesone have frequently
been mistaken for those of Vandyke. Both excelled in painting the human
countenance, — in making the flesh and blood project from the surface of the
canvas, and animating it with a soul within. That the Scottish artist may have
derived advantage from his association with the more eminent foreigner it were
absurd to deny ; but as they were fellow students, candour will admit, that the
advantage may have been at least partly repaid, and that the noble style in
uhich both excelled, may have been formed by the common labour of both.
It can scarcely be said that on any occasion Jamesone rises to the high dignity
of mental expression represented by Vandyke, nor does lie exhibit an equal
gi'ace, in the adjustment of a breast plate, or the hanging of a mantle. His
pictures generally represent hard and characteristic featui'es, seldom with much
physical grace, and representing minds within, which have more of the fierce or
austere than of the lofty or elegant ; and in such a spirit has he presented be-
fore us the almost breatliinjv forms of those turbulent and austere men connected
with the dark troubles of the times. The face thus represented seems generally
to have commanded the whole mind of the artist. The background presents
nothing to attract attention, and the outlines of the hard features generally start
from a ground of dingy dark brown, or deep grey. The dress, frequently of a
sombre hue, often fades away into the back ground, and the attitude, though
frequently easy, is seldom studied to impose. The features alone, with their
knotty brows, deep expressive eyes, and the shadow of the nose falling on the
lip — a very picturesque arrangement followed by Vandyke — alone demand the
attention of the spectator. Yet he could sometimes i-epresent a majestic form
and attitude, as the well-known picture of Sir Thomas Hope testifies. We shall
notice one more picture by Jamesone, as it is probably one of the latest which
came from Iiis brush, and exhibits peculiarities of style not to be met with in
others. This portrait is in the possession of Mr Skene of Kubislaw, and
represents his ancestor Sir George Skene of Fintray, who was born in 1619.
The portrait is of a young man past twenty ; and it will be remarked, that the
subject was only twentv-five years of age when the artist died. The picture is

248 GEORGE JARDINE, A.M.

autlienticated frou the circumstance of a letter being extant from the laird of
Skene to Sir George Skene, requesting a copy of his portrait " by Janiesone,"
and in accordance «ilh a luliiinienl uf tiiis request, a copy of the portrait we al-
lude to is in tlie family collection at Skene. Janiesone lias here indulged in
more fullness and brilliancy of colouring than is his general custom : the young-
man lias a calm aspect ; his head is covered \uih one of the mijnstroiis \tiss then
just introduced ; he is in a painter's attitude, even to the iiand, which is
benutil'ully drawn, and I'ar more graceful than those of Janiesone generally are.
On the whole, this portrait has mure of the characteristics ot ftir Feter Lely,
than of Vandyke.

J.imesone has been termed the " Vandyke of Scotland,*' but he may with
equal right claim the title of the Vandyke of Britain. Towards the latter end
of Eiizabetii's reign, Hilliard and Oliver had become soniewliat distinguished as
painters in miniature, and they conuuanded some respect, more from the in-
feriority of othei-s, than from their own excellence ; but the first inhabitant
of Great Britain, the works of whose brush could stand comparison with foreign
painters, was Janiesone.

A Latin elegy \vas addressed to the memory of Janiesone by David Wedder-
bum ; and his friend and .ellow townsman Arthur Johnston, (uhose portrait had
been painted by Janiesone), has lel'i, in one of his numerous epigrams, a beauti-
ful poetical tribute to his memory. After his death, the art he had done so
much to support, languished in Scotland. His daughter, who may have in-
herited some piirtion of plastic genius, has left behind fruits of her industry in
a huge mass of tapestry, which still dangles from the gallery of the church of
St Nicholas in Aberdeen. Ihis lad\"s second husband was Gregory, the mathe-
matician. A descendant of the same name as the painter has already been al-
luded to, as an engraver in the earlier part of the 1 Sth century, and John
Alexander, another descendant, who returned from his studies in Italy in 1720,
.acquired celebrity as an inventor of portraits of queen 3Iarv.

JARDINE, George, A.3I., for many years professor of logic in the university
of Glasgow, was born in the year 1742, at Wandal, in the upper ward of
Lanarkshire, where his predecessors had resided for nearly two liundred years.
The barony of Wandal formerly belonged to the Jardines of Applegirth : a
younger son of whom appears to have settled there about the end of the six-
teenlli century, and to have also been Nicar of the parish during the time of
episcopacy. 'I he barony having passed from the Applegirth to the Douglas
family, .Mr Jardine's forefathei-s continued for several generations as tenants in
tlie lands of \\andal, under that new race of landlords. His motlier was a
daughter of \\ eir of Birkwood in the parish of Lesmahagow.

After receiving his elementary education at the parish school, he, in October,
1760, repaired to Glasgow ctiUege, and entered as a member of a society,
where, with very little interruption, he was destined to spend the v\hole of his
life. After going through tlie preliminary classes, where his abilities and dili-
gence attracted the attention and acquired for him the friendship of several of
the professors, he entered the divinity hall under Dr Trail, then prolessor of
theology, and in due time obtained license as a preaclier from the presb\tery
of Linlithgow. He did not, however, follow out that profession, having, from
the good wishes of several of the prolessors of Glasgow college, reason to hope
that he might eventually be admitted to a chair, which was the great object of
his ambition.

In 1771, he was employed by baron !Mure of Caldwell, to accompany his
two sons to France, and to superintend their education at an academy in Faris,
The baron, who was at that time one of the most influential men in Scotland,

GEORGE JAPvDINE, A.M. 249

and wlio lived much in the litei*ary circle of Edinburgh, obtained from his
J'riend David Hume, letters of introduction to several of tlie French philosopliers
of that day; by means of wliich iMr Jardine had the advantajje of being
acquainted with Helvetitis and with D'Alembert, wlio were tiien in the zenitli of
tiieir fame, and wliose manners lie used to describe as presenting a striking
contrast, — Helvetius having all tiie style an<l appearance of a I'rencli nobleman
of the tirst fashion, wliile D'Alembert preserved a primitive simplicity of dress
and manner, at that time quite unusual in Paris. During his residence there,
he lived a good deal in the society of Dr Gennu, the uncle of Mr Muskissoii,
who was then settled as a physi(;ian in Paris, and noted not only for his emi-
nence in his profession, but for his talents as a philosopher. Dr (iemm was an
ardent friend to liberty, and at that time did not scruple to anti<Mpate, to those
with whom he was intimate, the fall of the French monarchy as an event at no
great distance.

Soon after his I'eturn from France, in July, 1773, a vacancy occurred in the
humanity chair of Glasgow, by the death of Mr Muirhead ; for which a very
keen competition arose between him and I\Ir Richardson, the result of which
was doubtful until the very morning of the election, when, notwithstanding
every exertion made in behalf of Mr Jardine, by lord Frederic Campbell, the
lord rector, I\Ir Richardson carried the election by a majority of one vote.
Upon this occasion, Mr Clow, the professor of logic, who had always befriended
Mr Jardine, though, from a prior engagement, he, on this occasion, felt himself
obliged to support the other candidate, told him not to be discouraged, for that
there might ere long be an opportunity of his being admitted into their society.
The expectations which Mr Clow thus kindly threw out, he very soon realized,
for, towards the end of the following session, he intimated to the college, that,
from his advanced age, he required to be relieved from the labour of teacliing,
and expressed a wish that IMr Jardine might be associated with him in the pro-
fessorship. About this time, too, Dr Moor, professor of Greek, gave in his resig-
nation ; and in June, 1774, upon the same day, the faculty of Glasgow college
elected Mr Young to the (ireek chair, and appointed the subject of this memoir
assistant and successor to Mr Clow.

By this arrangement, the charge of the three jimior classes of Glasgow
college came, at the same time, to devolve upon three men in the vigour of life,
who all entered most zealously into the business of their i*espective departments,
in •which they soon introduced very material improvements : — in particular, they
contrived to infuse a spirit of enuilation among their pupils by the institution
of prizes publicly distributed at the end of each session, to those who had dis-
tinguished themselves dui-ing the course — an institution which was gradually
extended to other classes at Glasgow, and which has now been generally intro-
duced into the other universities. These prizes have been increased during recent
years, by the munificence of several of the Lords Rectors, and the generosity of
public-spirited individuals. There are prizes bearing the names of James Watt,
Lord Jeffrey, Mr James Ewing, the Marquis of Breadalbane, &c., arising from
large sums of money permanently invested for that purpose.

The business of the logic class had hitherto consisted in an explanation of the
Dialectics of Aristotle, followed up, towards the end of the course, by an exposi-
tion of the most abstruse doctrines of metaphysics and ontology, embracing the
genei'al attributes of being, existence, essence, unity, necessity, &rc., and other
similar abstract conceptions of pure intellect. For the first year or two, the new
professor followed the same track ; but he soon discovered, from the examination of
his students, that by far the greaternumberof them comprehended very little of the
doctrines explained ; that a few only of superior abilities could fiive any account of

250 GEORGE JARDINE, A.M.

them at ail, and that the most of the young men remembered only a few peculiar
phrases or leohiiical expressions ^vhich they delivered by rote, unaccompanied by
any distinct notion of iheir meaning. Besides, even when these abstract doctrines
were understood, intelligent persons who sent their sons to the logic class, could
not fail to observe, tliat the subjects to ^vhicll their attention was directed iiad no
relation to any profession or employment whatever, and that liltle could be
derived from prelections on such topics, \\hich was likely either to adorn con-
versation, or to .jualify the student for the concerns of active life. Mr Jardine
soon perceived, therefore, the necessity of a thorough and radical change on the
subjects of his lectures, and after a simple analysis of the ditlerent powers of the
understanding, ivilh the means of their improvement, accompanied with a short
account of Aristotle's logic, he devoted by far the greater part of the course to
tlie original progress of language ; the principles of general granunar ; the
elements of taste and criticism ; and to the rules of composition, with a view to
the promotion of a correct style, illustrated by examples. His course of lectures
was, accordingly, entirely new-modelled, and he soon found that a great pro-
portion of the students entered with awakened interest upon the consideration of
these subjects, instead of the listless inattention \vhicii had been bestowed on the
abstract doctrines of metaphysics.

But the greatest improvement which he introduced into the mode of conduct-
ing the business of the class, was a regular system of examinations and exercises.
He was of opinion with Dr Barrow, " that communication of truth is only one
half of the business of education, and is not even the most important halfl The
most important part is the habit of employing, to some good purpose, the acqui-
sitions of memory by the exercise of the understanding ; and till this be acquired,
the acquisition will not be found of much use." The mere delivery of a lecture,
especially to very young persons, he held of very little advantage, unless they
Mere placed in the situation of those who were bo".nd to give an account of it;
aud the exposition of the rules of composition to be of little avail, unless accom-
panied by the application of those rules by the student himself. Accordingly,
at a separate hour in the forenoon, the students were examined each day oji the
lecture of the morning, and written essays were required from time to time on
subjects more or less connected \vith those embraced in the lectures. These
were regularly criticised by the professor in the presence of the class; and after
the principles of criticism had been explained, tliey were, towards the end of
the session, distributed among the students themselves, who were required' to
subjoin a written criticism upon each other's performances, under the superin-
tendence of the professor ; and prizes were bestowed at the end of the session,
according to the determination of the students, to those who excelled in these
daily examinations and exercises. This system of practical instruction is
explained in all its details in a work published by Mr Jardine before he relin-
quished the charge of the lOgic class, entitled " Outlines of Philosophical Edu-
cation," in which is to be found a full exposition of a system of academical
discipline, which was pursued in the logic class of Glasgow, during the pei-iod
of filly years it was under his direction, and which was found by experience to
be attended with the most beneficial effects.

Ihe details of this system were, of course, attended with no small additional
labour to the professor ; for, besides two and occasionally three hours each day
of public teaching, he had every evening to examine and correct the essays of
the students, which were in such numbers as to occupy a large portion of his
time. He was reconciled, however, to this tedious and laborious occupation by
a thorough conviction of its great practical utility, which each year's additional
experience tended more and more to confirm. He had the satisfaction, too, of

GEORGE JARDINE, A.M. 251

knowing- tlint his labours wtve not without success, both from his students them-
selves, many of whom did not hesitate to ascribe their advancement in after-life
to the active and industrious habits acquired in the logic class, and also from the
opinion of the p\iblic at large, uhich was very clearly evinced by tlie progi-essive
increase of the immber of students ; the average of which, ^vhen lie entered upon
the office, in the public class was about fifty, but whicii increased to nearly two
hundred. This was, no doubt, partly owing to general causes, npplicxible to the
times, but to a certain extent it was assuredly to be attributed to the great esti-
mation in which this class was held by the public at large. Few teachers have
ever enjoyed so large a portion of the respect and affection of their pupils. This
was owing not a little to the warm interest which they could not fail to perceive
he took in their progress, — to his strict impartiality, which admitted of no pre-
ference or distinction of any sort except that of talents and industry, — and to a
kindly, affectionate, and almost paternal regard, which marked'the \vhole of his
demeanour to his students — who, dispersed, as they afterwards came to be, into
all quarters of the globe, have very generally concurred in expressions of cordial
esteem to their old pi-eceptor. With such a hold upon the regard and affection
of his class, he scarcely ever required to have recourse to the ordinary means of
enforcing academical discipline.

From 1771, when he first entered upon his office, till 1S21, when he gave
up teaching, the business was systematically carried on in the way here described,
with such improvements from time to time as were suggested by his experience ;
and he possessed such an excellent constitution, aided by a temper remarkably
cheerful, that during the whole fifty years he was scarcely a single day absent from
his class on account of indisposition. His pi'edecessor, 3Ir Clow, survived till 1788,
having the year before his death resigned to his successor the whole privileges
of the office, with his seat in the faculty ; and, not^vithstanding■ the very labo-
rious duties which he had imposed on himself by his mode of teaching, he still
contrived to devote a portion of his time to the extrication of the patrimonial
affairs of the college, and the arrangement of their accounts, wliich his business
habits enabled him to undertake without much difficulty, and Avhich, chiefly by
his exertions, were brought from a state of comparative confusion into a very
satisfactory arrangement. In 1792, likewise, Avhen the royal infirmary Avas
erected at Glasgow, he bestowed very great labour in promoting tlie undertaking,
and for more than twenty years afterwards officiated as secretary, taking on
himself the chief management of the affairs of the institution, from which he only
retired a short time before his death, when he received the thanks of the mana-
gers for the unwearied attention he had bestowed on their business for nearly
thirty years.

The private life of 3Ir Jardine did not present any great variety of incident.
During the session he lived in college in terms of great friendship with several
of his colleagues, particularly with the late professors 3Iillar and Young-, whose
vicAvs in college affairs generally coincided with his own ; and in summer he
resided at a small property which he purchased in the neighbourhood of Hamil-
ton, which he took great delight in adorning, and entered with much relish
upon the employments of a country life, which foi-med an excellent relaxation
after his winter labours. His residence in that quarter naturally occasioned a
connexion with the presbytery of Hamilton, who, for upwards of thirty years,
returned him as their representative to the General Assembly, which he regularly
attended, taking a considerable share in the business, and generally coinciding in
opinion with the late Sir Henry Moncrieff Wellwood, with whom he lived for a
great many years in habits of the most unreserved friendship. One of the last
public appearances which he made was in May, 1825, upon the question of

252 SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTO:^.

pluralities, to which he liad, on all occasions, been a determined adversary ;
■when he opened the second day's debate by a forcible sj)eech on the impolicy
of unitinn- prufessorsliips with churdi livini^s ; uiiich, considerinir lijs great age,
was viewed at the time as a very remarkable efl'ort, and was listened to with
profound attention.

In lS:il, after having tanoht for fully half a centin-y, he tho'inht liimself
fairly entitled to retire from liis labours. Those who attended the class durinw
that last session did not perceive any abatement either of his zeal or energy ; and
during- that winter he was not absent from his class a single hour. ]5ut lie fore-
saw that the time could not be far distant when these exertions must cease, and
he preferred retiring before he was actually compelled to do so by the infirmi-
ties of age. At the end of that session, he accordingly requested his colleagues
to select a person to fill his place ; declaring that he left the arrangement
entirely to them, and that he would not interfere either directly or indii-ectly
in the api)aintment, farther than by expressing an earnest wish that they might
select one who would take a zealous interest in the prosperity of the class, and
would continue the same system of active employment on the part of the stu-
dents which had been found to be attended with so much benefit. Their choice
fell upon the liev. Robert Huchanan, minister of Peebles, who had himself
carried off the first iionour at this class, whose literary attainments are of a high
order, and who zealously continues to follow out the same system of daily
examinations and regular exercises, which was introduced by his predecessor.

Upon the occasion of his retirement from public teaching, a number of these
who had been his pupils determined to show their respect by giving him a public
dinner in the town hall of (ilasgow, which was attended by upwards of two
hundred gentlemen, many of whom came from a great distance to evince their
respect for their venerable instructor. Blr IVIure of Caldwell, his earliest pupil,
v\-as in tlie chair, and the present Marquis of Breadalbano, who had been peculiarly
under his charge at (ilasgow college, and to Avhom he was very much attached,
came from a great distance to ofliciate as croupier.

I\Ir Jardine survived about three years after his retirement from public duties ;
during which time he resided as usual during winter in college, and continued
to take an active interest in the ali'airs of the society. While attending the
General Assemldy in Rlay, 182G, he was seized with a bilious attack — almost
the first illness he ever experienced — from which he never completely recovered,
and he sank under the infirmities of age on the 27th of January, 1827, having
just completed his 85tii year ; contemplating his dissolution with the composure of
a Christian, and expressing his gratitude to the author of his being for the many
blessings which had fallen to his lot ; of which he did not consider as the least
tlie numerous marks of esteem and regard evinced by his old pupils, with whom
he was ever delighted to renew a kindly intercourse. His death was deeply
regretted by the society of whi(^h he iiad been so long a member, and by the
inhabitants of (jlasgow, where he was very generally respected and esteemed.

In 1770, I\Ir Jardine married Bliss Lindsay of Glasgow, whom he survived
about twelve years, and by whom ho had one son, John Jardine, advocate, who
held the office of sheriff of Ross and Cromarty, and died in 1850.

JOHNSTON, (Snt) Auchujald, of Warriston, (a judge by the designation of lord
Warriston,) an eminent lawyer and statesman, was the son of James Johnston of
lieirholm in Annandale, a descendant of the family of Johnston in Aberdeen-
shire, and who for some time followed a commercial life in lulinburgh, being
Kientioned in a charter of 1G08, as " the king's merchant" The mother of the
subject of our memoir was IJizabelh, daughter of Sir Thomas Craig, the first
great lawyer produced by Scotland, and whose life lias already been given in the

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON. 2r»3

piesent work. Of tlie date of tlie biitli of Avdiibald Johnston, and the drcuiiv-
stances of his education, no nieniorJal has been preserved : he entered as advo-
cate in 1G33, In the great national disturbances uhich commenced in 1G.37,
Johnston took an early and distinguisliod part; acting, apparently, as only
second to Sir Thomas Hope in giving legal advice to tiic covenanters. The
second or general supplication of tlic nation to Charles I. for relief from his
episcopal innovations was prepared by the earl of Kothes and Archibald John-
ston •, the former being preferred on account of his distinction as an active and
intlucntial partisan, and the latter from the general character given of him by
his friends, as singularly well acquainted witli the history and constitution of tlio
genuine pvesbyterian church of Scotland. Tliis document, which was presented
to tlie privy council on the 2ith of September, 1()37, in tlie presence of a band
of the supporters of its principles, which made the act more solemn tlian a regal
pageant, leaves for the politicians of all ages a fine specimen of that calmness
in reasoning and statement which men of judgment and principle know to be
necessary for the preservation of order in a state, when they are representing
grievances, Iiowever deep, to a governor, however unreasonable ; and of that
firuniess of position, whicli, when supported by a hold of popular opinion, must
either be allowed to prevail, or leave to him who obstructs it the odium of the
confusion which may follow. After the supplicants, who had increased to a vast
body of men, spreading over the whole of the southern part of Scotland, had
united themselves under a representative coi stitution, termed " the Tables," a
renewal of the national covenant was judged a useful measure for a combinatiou
of effort, and the insurance of a general union and purpose. Johnston and
the celebrated Alexander Henderson were employed to suit the revered obliga-
tion to which their ancestors had sworn, to the new purpose for which it was
applied, by including the protestations against the liturgy of the episcopal
church, under the general declarations which it previously bore against the doc-
trine of the church of Rome, and adducing authorities in support of the new ajv
plication. The obligation was signed in March, 1G39, under circumstances tco
well known to be recapitulated.'

Johnston, although from his secondary rank, he did not tlien assume the au-
thority of a leader, was, from his knowledge and perseverance, more trusted to
in the labours of the opposition than any other man, and his name continually
recurs as the agent in every active measure. I'o the unyielding and exasperat-
ing proclamation, which was read at the market-cross of Edinburgh on tlie 22nd
of February, 1G38, he prepared and read aloud, on a scafTold erected for the
purpose, the celebrated protestation in name of the Tables, while the dense
crowd who stood around prevented the issuers of the proclamation from depart-
ing before they heard the answer to their challenge. On the Stii of July, the
king issued another proclamation, which, though termed " A proclamation of
favour and grace," and though it pi'omised a maintenance of the religion pre-
sently professed vjithintJte kincjdom without innovation, an interim suspension of
the service book, a rectification of the high commission, and the loudly called
for general assembly and parliament, was, with reason, deemed more dangerous
than a defiance. Johnston had a protestation prepared for the delir^icy of this
trying occasion, which, with the decorum from which he seems on no occasion
to have departed, he, " in all humility, with submissive reverence," presented in
presence of the multitude." When, on the 22nd of September, the parliament and

' For such iTiatters connected with this period as are here, lo prevent repetition, but sliglU-
ly alluded lo, vide the memoii-s of lieiideisun ; of Montrose-, aiid of the first duke of llaniil-
ton, in this collection.

'Balfour's Amials, ii.27G.

254:

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

general assembly were proclaimed, he prepared another protestation in a similar
tone to the former, uhich he read in his own name, and in that of the earl of
Montrose, for the nobles ; Gibson youngfer of Uiiric for the barons ; Gcor'^e Por-
terfield, merchant in Glasgow, for the burghs; and Henry Pollock, minister of
Edinburgh, for the clergy. It uill be easily conjectured that, at the period
when he was liius publicly employed, Johnston was privately acting as a partisan
of the covenant, and an enemy of prelacy and arbitrary power, by all the means
which a political agent invariably uses. At such a period the more mc can
trace the private proceedings and feelings of the public man, the better can we
hold him up as a biographical example. As the only curious document con-
nected with our subject at this period of his existence, we give the following
somewhat mutilated letter to JoLustou, from a person who did not choose to
sign his name ; it is characteristic of the feehng of the party, and of the occu-
pation of the subject of our memoir; and if to a speculative politician it may
breathe an illiberal spirit, let him remember that there never existed a party,
however pure, ^vhich did not wish to suppress the opposite party, and that not
having power and numbers on their side, the opponents of the covenant were in
the situation of disturbers of society, in as far as they wished to impose rules on
the whole kingdom.

" For Mr Archibald Johnston [of Warriston, advocate.

" Dear Christian brother and courageous ProtesUnt, — Upon some rumour of tlie Prelate
of St Andrews, Ws coming over the water, and finding it altogether inconvenient that he or
any of that kynd should show themselves peacably in publicke, some course was taken how
hee might be entertejTied in such places as he should come unto : ^ve are now informed that
hee (will) not come, but that Broughen is in Edinburgh or thereabout; it is the advvee of
your friends here, that in a private way some course may be taken for his terror and disgrace
if he offer to show himself in pubiick. Tliink upon llie best r . . . by the advvee of your
friends tliere. 1 fear that their publick appearance at Glasgow shall be prejudiciall to our cause.
We are going to take order (with) his cheefe supporters there, Glaidstaines, Sknmgoor, and
Hall_\ burton . . . Wishing you both protection and direction from your maister, I con-
tinew, joure owTie whome you know. G."

" 28t/i October, less:'"

Such was the feeling in which the leaders of the Covenant prepared them-
selves for the renowned General Assembly held at Glasgow in November and De-
cember, 1G33. On that occasion Johnston ^vas, by a unanimous vote, chosen
clerk of the assembly. On its being discovered that his precursor had been
enabled to procure only two of the seven volumes of minutes of the general as-
semblies held since the Keformation, the moderator, probably in pursuance of a
preconcerted measure, called upon all those who were aware of the existence of
any othei-s, to give information on the subject to the assembly. Johnston here-
upon produced the other five volumes — how obtained by him we loio^v not — by
which service he gieatly increased tiie confidence previously placed in him. On
the day before the session terminated, the assembly elected him procurator for
the church, and, as was afterwards ratified by act of parliament, he received for
the former of these odices 500, and for the latter 1000 merks yearly.*

Johnston was one of the commissioners appointed by the Scots to conduct
the treaty at Berwick. The General Assembly, which was the consequence of
that pacification, passes over, and the unsatislactory parliament vhich followed,"
is commenced, ere we again observe Johnston's name connected with any public
aflairs, beyond the usual routine of his duties. The parliament commenced its

' Wodrow's Collection, Advoc. Lib., vol. Ixvi. No. 59

* Balf. An. ii. 301,313-, Scots Wortliies, 271 ; Act. Pari. v. tlC.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON. 255

sittings on the 31st of August, 11)39. On the 14th of November, fair Thomas
Hope, ill his official capacity as lord .advocate, produced a warrant from the
king addressed to the connnissioners, which, on the ground that the royal pre-
rogative was interested in the proceedings, ordered a prorogation to the 2nd of
June, 1640. Tlie wan-ant was read by Sir Alexander Gibson of Uurio, one of
the clerks of session, on which the lord advocate took the usual protest, calling
on the clerk actually to dissolve tlie meeting. On this, the clerk, >vho Avas per-
forming an unpleasing oHice, answered, " that he had already read the said
warrant containing the said prorogacioun, and was readie to read tlie same as
oft as he should be commanded, but could not otherways prorogat the parlia^
ment." The earl of llothes added to his embarrassment, by challenging him to
** do nothing but as he would be answerable to the parliament, upon payne of
his life." And the junior clerk, I\Ir William Scott, being called on to dissolve
the meeting, sagaciously declined otliciating in tlie presence of his senior.
Johnston then came forward, and, in name of the three estates, read a declara-
tion, purporting that his majesty, having, in compliance with the wish of his
faithful subjects, called a free assembly and parliament, and submitted mat-
ters ecclesiastical to the former, and matters civil to the latter ; the com-
missioner had (it was presumed) without the full permission of the king,
attempted to dissolve the paxliament — a measure which, the estates main-
tained, could not be constitutionally taken, without the consent of the parliament
itself^ With that respect for the person of the king which, as the advo-
cates of peaceful measures, the covenanters at that period always professed
to maintain, the document proceeds to state that the estates are constrained to
the measure they adopt by " our zeal to acquit ourselfs according to our place,
botii to the king's majesty, whose honour at all tymes, but especially convened
in parliament, we ought to have in high estimation, and to the kingdom which
we represent, and whose liberties sail never be prostituted or vilified by us."
Having denounced the prorogation as unconstitutional, this .remarkable state-
paper thus proceeds — " 15ut becaus we know that the eyes of the world ar upon
us, that declarations have been made and published against us, and malice is
prompted for hir obloquies, and watetli on with opin mouth to snatch at the
smallest shadow of disobedience, disservice, or disrespect to his majesty's com-
mandments, that our proceedings may be made odious to such as know not the
way how thes commandments are procured from his majesty, nor how tliey are
made knowin and intimat to us, and doe also little consider that we are not now
private subjects bot a sitting parliament, quhat national prejudices we have sus-
tenit in tyme past by misinformation, and quhat is the present state of the king-
dom ;" so arguing, the presenters of the declaration, that they may put far from
them " all shaw or appearance of what may give his majesty the least discontent,''
resolve, in the mean time, merely to vindicate their rights by their declaration,
and, voluntarily adjourning, resolve to elect some of each estate, as a perman-
ent committee, endowed with the full po\vers of a pai-liamentary committee, to
" await his majesty's gracious answer to our humble and just demands, and far-
ther to remonstrat our humble desires to his majesty upon all occasions ; that
hereby it may be made most manifest, against all contradiction, that it wes never
our intention to denie his majesty any parte of the civill and temporal obedience
which is due to all kings from their subjects, and from us to our dread soverane
after a special maner, bot meerlie to preserve our religion, and the liberties ot
the kingdome, without which religion cannot continue long in safetie." — " And
if it sail happen," continues this prophetic declaration, " (which God forbid)
that, efter we have made our remonstrances, and to the uttermost of our power
and duetie used all lawful! meanes for his majesty's information, that our mali-

250 SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

cious enemies, uho are not considerable, sail, by their suggestions and lyes, pre-
vaill against the informations and generall de(;laration8 of a whole kingdom, we
tak (jod and men to ^vitness, tiiat we are free of the outrages and insolencies
that may be connnitted in the mean tynie, and that it sail be to us no inijiutation,
that ■we are constrained to tak such <;ourse as may best secure the kirk and
kingdome from the extremitie of confusion and niiserie."

It is to be remarked, that tliis act of tlie covenanters did not assume the autho-
rity of a protest ; it was a statement of grievances to ivhicii, for a short time, tiiey
would submit, supplicating a remedy. The assertion that the crown had not
the sole power of proroguing parliament, may be said to be an infringement of
prerogative; but this very convenient term must o^^e its application to practice,
and it appears that the royal power on this point had not been accurately fixed
by the constitution of the Scottish parliament. The choice of the lords of
articles by the commissioner — a step so far a breach of " privilege" (the op-
posite term to prerogative), that it rendered a parliament useless as an indepen-
dent body — was likewise remonstrated against, along with the application of
supplies without consent of parliament.

The earls of Dunfermline and Loudon were sent as commissioners to represent
the declaration to the king. " They behaved themselves," says Clarendon,
" in all respects, with the confidence of men employed by a foreign state,
refused to give any account but to tiie king himself; and even to the king
himself gave no other reason for what was done, but the authority of the doers,
and the necessity that required it ; that is, that they thought it necessary :
but then they polished their sturdy behaviour with all the prot'essions of submis-
sion and duty which their language could afford."

As connected with this mission, some historians have alluded to, and others
have narrated, a dark intrigue, of which Johnston w.as the negative instrument ;
a matter which has never been cleared up. We shall give it in the words of
Burnet, the nephew of Johnston, and who had therefore some reason to kno\v
the facts. " After the first pacification, upon the new disputes that arose, when
the earls of Loudoun and Uumfernding were sent up with the petition from the
covenanters, the lord Saville came to them, and informed them of many parti-
culars, by which they saw the king was highly irritated against tliem. He took
great pains to persuade them to come ^vith their army into England. They
very univillingly hearkened to tliat proposition, and looked on it as a design
from the court to ensnare them, making the Scots invade England, by which
this nation might have been provoked to assist the king to conrjuer Scotland.
It is true, he hated the earl of Strafibrd so mucii, that they saw no cause to suspect
him; so they entered into a treaty with him about it. The lord Saville assured
them, he spoke to them in the name of the most considerable men in England,
and he showed them an engagement under their hands to join with them, if
they would come into England, and refuse any treaty but what should be con-
firmed by a parliament of i'Jngland. They desired leave to send this paper into
Scotland, to whi(;h, after much seeming difiiculty, he consented: so a cane was
hollowed, and this wa? put within it; and one Erost, afterwards secretary to the
connnittee of both kingdoms, was sent down with it as a poor traveller. It was
to be connuunicated only to three persons — the earls of liothes and Argyle, and
to Warriston, the three chief confidants of the covenanters. # * # # 'Pq
these three only this paper was to be showed, upon an oath of secrecy : and it
was to be deposited in Warriston's hands. They were only allowed to publish
to the nation that they were sure of a very great and unexpected assistance,
which, though it was to be kept secret, would appear in due time. This they
published ; and it was looked on as an artifice to draw in the nation : but it was

SI a ARCIHBALD JOIINSTOX. 257

nftei'uards fouiul to be a client iiuleed, but a cheat of lord Saville's, uho Iiad
foi'gcd all those subscriptions. * * * 'pi,e loi-j Saville's forgery cnnie to
be discovered. The king knew it ; and yet he was brouglit afterwards to trust
him, and to advance him to be carl of Sussex. Tlie king- pressed my undo
(Johnston) to deliver him the letter, uho excused himself upon his ontli : and
not knowing- what use might be made of it, he cut out every subscription, and
sent it to tiie person for whom it was forged. The imitation was so exact, that
every man, as soon as he srw his hand simply by itself, acknowledged that he
could not liave denied it."-' 13urnet had certainly tlie best opportunities for
both a i>ublic and private acquaintance with such an event, and the circmii-
stance has been at least hinted at by others ; but r>Ir Laing justly remarks that
" in tiieir conferences with these n<iblemen, and with I'ym and Ilambden, the
Scottish commissioners during their residence in London must have received
siich secret assurances of support, that, without tliis forged invitation, the com.
mittee of l'"states would have chosen to transfer the war into England.""

At the parliament which met on the 2nd of June, IGiO, the representative of
majesty in tliat body clioosing- to absent himself, or dreading the danger of a
journey to Scotland, the Estates proceeded to reduce themselves to a formal and
deliberative body, by tlie choice of a president. To this convention Johnston
produced a petition from tiie (.ieneral Assembly, whicli had been ratified by the
privy council, praying for a legislative ratificiilion of the covenant, and an order
that it should be enforced on the inhabitants of the country with all civil
pains,' — a requisition which the convention was not in a disposition to refuse.
On the 11th of June, by the 34th act of this parliament, the celebrated commit-
tee of forty, having, in absence of the superior body which called it into existence,
the full legislative power of a republican congress, was elected, and the members
were divided betwixt the camp and Edinburgh. Our surprise tiiat so influential
and laborious a man as Johnston was not chosen a member of this body, is re-
lieved by the place of higher, though, somewhat anomalous trust to vihicli we fiiid j
him appointed, as general agent and adviser to the body — a sort of leader, \
without being a constituent member. "And because," says the act, "there i'
w ill fall out in the camp a necessitie either of treatties, consultations, or public ■ j
declai-ations, to schaw tiie reasones of the demands and proceedings in the as- j
semblie and parliament, and the prejudices agains cither of them, the Estates ;j
ordaynes 3ir Archil>ald Johnston, procurator for the kirk, as best acquaint with
these reasons and prejudices, to attend his excellence (the general) and to be i i
present at all occasions with the said committee, for their farther informatioi>, ij
and clearing thairanent"^ Johnston was one of the eight individuals appointed jj
to treat \vith the English commissioners at Kippon, by an act of the great com- ; I
mittee of management, dated tiie 30th of September, 1640.^ When this treaty ;|
was transferred to London, Johnston ^vas chosen a iiiember of the committee, \ j
along with Henderson, as supernumeraries to those appointed from the Eslates, : I
and probably with the peculiar duty of watching over the interests of tiie church, 1 j
" because many things niay occurre concerning the church and assemblies
thereof.""^ |i

The proceedings and achievements of this body are so well known, that, in ;
an article whicli aims at giving such memorials of its subject, as are not to bo j
readily met with in the popular histories, they need not be repeated. On :|
the 25th day of September, 1G41, Johnston jn-oduced in parliament a petition ij
that he might be exonerated from all responsibility as to the public measures ij
with which he had for the previous four years been connected, mentioning the !|

S Burnet, 37, 3D. 41. c Ljiing, iii. 191. ' Art. Pinl, v. ml. |

8 \ct. Pur.v. 311. s Biilloiu-'s All., ii. 408. I'J H;ilf. An., ii. 41(j. i

111. 2 k: :

258 STR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

important office which he held as adviser to the commissioners attending on the
motions at the camp, and the duties he was called on to perform at the treaty
of Hippon and London ; and observing, that it has been considered necessary
that others so employed should Iiave their conduct publicly examined in parlia-
ment, he craves tiiat all requisite inquiry may immediately be made as to his
own proceedings ; that, if he has done any thing " contrair to their Instructions,
or prejudicial) to the publict, he may undergoe that censure which the ^^Tonger3
of the countrey and abusers of such great trust deServes ;" but if it lias been
found that he has done his duly, " then," he says, " doe I in all humility begg,
that, seing by God's assistance and blessing the treattie of peace is closed, and
seeing my employment in thir publict business is now at an end, that before I
returne to my private alTaiies and calling, from the which these four yeires I have
been continually distracted, I may obtaine from his gracious majesty and your
lordships, an exoneration of that charge, and an approbation of my former ca-
I'iage." The exoneration was granted, and the act ratifying it stated, that after
due examination, the Estates found that Johnston had " faithfullie, dillegentlie,
and cairfuliie behaved himseW in the foresaid chairge, employments, and trust
put upon him, in all the passages thairof, as he justly deserves tliair treu testi-
monie of his approven lidelitie and diligence." ^^

In 1(31,1, when the king paid his pacificatory visit to Scotland, Johnston ob-
tained, among others, a liberal peace-oflering. He had fixed his eyes on the
ofhce of lord register, probably as bearing an affinity to his 2)revious occupa-
tions ; but the superior inlluence of Gibson of Uurie prevailed in competition
for that situation : he received, however, the commission of an ordinary lord of
session, along with a liberal pension, and the honours of knighthood. During
the sitting of the pai-liament we find him appointed as a commissioner, to treat
with the king on the supplementary matters which were not concluded at the
treaty of Rippon, and to obtain the royal consent to the acts passed during the
session. Much about the same period, he was appointed, along with others, to
make search among the records contained in the castle, for points of accusation
against the " incendiaries ;" the persons whom he and his colleagues had just
displaced in the offices of state and judicature. It may be sufficient, and will
save repetition, to mention, that we find him appointed in the same capacity
which we have already menlioned, in the reconnnissions of the committee of Es-
tates, and in the other committees, chosen to negotiate with the king, similar to
those we have already described, among which may be noticed the somewhat
menacing committee of 1611, appointed to treat as to connnerce, the naturaliza-
tion of subjects, the demands as to war with foreigners, the Irisii rebellion, and
particularly as to " the brotherlie supplie and assistance " of the English parlia-
ment to the Scottish army.'"

In the parliament of 1C43, Sir Archibald Johnston represented the county
of Edinburgh, and was appointed to the novel situation of speaker to the barons,
as a separate estate. In this capacity, on the 7th of June, 1G44, he moved the
house to take order concerning the " unnatural rebellion" of 3Iontrose,'^ and
somewhat in the manner of an impeachment, he moved a remonstrance against
the carl of Carnwath, followed by a connnission to make trial of his conduct,
along with that of Traquair, of which Johnston was a member.'^ During the
period when, as a matter of pidicy, the Scots in general suspended thek- judg-
ment between the contending parties in England, A\'arriston seems early to have
felt, and not to have concealed, a predilection for the cause of the parliament,

n Act Pari., v. 414. I'J Act. Par., v. 357, 37], 372. 489, &c.

" Balfour's Anecdotes, iii. 177. " Act Pari., vi. 6. 8.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON. 259

ami was tlie person \vlio moved Uiat tlie gcnei-al assembly should throw Ihc weight
ol' llieii' opinion in that scale.''

Johnston liad been named as one of the commissioners, chosen on the Dth
August, lG-1.3, for the alleged purpose of mediating betwixt Charles I. and liis
parliament; but Charles, viewing him as a dangerous opponent, objected to
providing him with a safe conduct, and he appears to have remained in Edin-
burgh, lie, however, conducted a correspondence with the conunissioncrs who
repaired to London, as a portion of which, the subjoined letter to him from the
earl of Loudon, Avhich throws some light on the policy of the Scots at that
juncture, may be interesting.^''

'^ A curious evidence of his opinions, and the motives of liis political conduct at this period,
exists, in the form of some remarks on the aspect of the times, which appear to liave been
nddressed to his friend lord Loudon. The manuscript is in scroll, very irregularly written,
and with numerous corrections; circumstances which will account for any uiiiiitelligil)ility in
the portion we extract. It bears date the 21st of June, .1642. " Seeing thir liingdoms most
stand and fall together, and that at the tirst design in all tliir late troubles, so the last ef-
fort of thes evil counsels prevailing stil to the supprL-ssiun of religion and libirtyand the erec-
tion of popcrye and arbitrary power, it is earnestlye desj rd by good Christians and patriots
that the ques{ion of the warr be right stated, as a warr for religion and liberlie, against
p:ipists and prelates, and tlieir abackers and adhennts; and tliat now, in tliair straits and dif-
ticulties, Ihey niiglit enter in a covenant witli God and amongst themselves, for the reforma-
tion of the churche, abolishing of popery and prelacy out of England and Scotland, and
preservation of the roule and peace of thir kyngdoms, q'' without dimunition of his majes-
t) 's authorities, might not onl\ free them of fears from tiiis, bot also fdl them with hopes or
their bearing alongst witli their proceedings the hearts and confidence of thir kingdoms.
Pitmaylie may remember weal what of tliis k\nd was motioned at Kippon, and spoken of
aga}ne, when the English armye was reported to.be comyng up." — Wodrow's Pdiiers, Ad.
Lib. vol. Ixvi.

^6 " Rly lord, — The sending of commissioners from the parliament here to the parliament
of Scotland at this tjnie, Avas upon the sudden moved in the House of Commons (befcir wee
wer acquainted thereof) b} the solicitor, and seconded by some who profes to be o' freinds as a
greater testimonie of respect than the sending of a letter alone, and was in that sens ap-
proved by the whole hous, who, I believe, does it for no other end, neither is ther any other
instructions given by the house than these, whereof the copy is sent to you, which ar only
generall for a good correspondence betwixt the two kingdomes. Bot I cannot forbear to tell
you my apprehensiones, that the intention and designs of some particular persons in sending
down at this tyme, and in such a juncture of aflaires (when ther is so great rumor of division
and factiones in Scotland), is bj- them to learne the posture of business ther in the pari',
assemblies, and kingdome, that they maj' receave privat information from them, and make
ther applicationes and uses thereof accordinglie. That which confirms this opinion to me
the more, is, that the sending of these persones to Scotland was moved and seconded by
such as profes themselves to be o'' freinds w*out giveing us any notice thereof till it was
done ; and the day before it was motioned, they and jo"' old fi-iend Sir Henry Vaine younger,
wer at a consultation together, and jo"" lor : knowes how much power Sir Henrie Vain hes
with Sir W" Armyne and I\Ir Bowlls.* Sir William Arm^ne is a very honest gentle-
men, but Mr Bowlls is very deserving, and doubtless is sent (tlioghc not of intention
of the pari') as a spy to give privat intelligence to some who arc jealous and curious
to understand how all alfairs goe in Scotland. Thomsone I hear is a Independent, and
(if he goe not away before I can meitt with some freinds) I shall c'tr_\ve that there
may be a snare laid in his gaitt to stay his journe} •, they wold be used with all civili-
tie when they come, bot jo"' loP: and others wold be verie warie and riroomspcct in all
}0^ proceedings and deallings w' them; seeing the hous of pari' and all such heir ;is
desyres a happie and wcell-groundcd peace, or a short and prosperous warre, ar dtsyr-
ous that the Scottish armie advance southward (although 1 dare not presume to give
any positive judgment without pres\se knowledge of tlie condition and posture of o"" own
kingdom), I cannot see any human means so probable and Ijklie to setlc religion and peace,
and make o'' nation the more considerable, as the advancing of o' armie souihwaid if the
turbulent comotions and rud distractions of Scotland ma^ permilt, nor is it possible that
BO great an armie can be longer entertained by tJio northern counties, so barren and much
waisted witli armies; nor can it be expected that the pari' of Enghmd can be at so
great charge as the entertainment of that armie (if they did reallie interlain them), unless
they be more useful for the caus and pubiick sei-vicc of both kingdomes than to ,}e still in ihcs
northern counties, being now reduced, and Ihe king to vexe the south with forces iquall to
theirs; bot there iieeds not arguments to prove this poynt, unless that base crewe of Irish
rebells and their perfidious confederates, and the unnatural factions of C countrjmen for-

• The English conimissioners were— tlie earl of Rutland, Sir \Villi.-\m Armyne, Sir Hemj Van,
(younger), Thomas Thatcher, and Henry Davnly.

2G0 SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON.

We find Johnston sent to London, on tlio lt!i of July, l(ili, and it is pro-
bable tbat, before that time, lie had nianaQ^ed to visit England Mithout the cere-
monial of a safe-guard from the faliliirj monarcli ; and on the 9tii of Januarv,
1615, we find him along with !Mr l^ohert Harclay, " tuo of our coniniissioneis
lattlie returned from London," reporting the progress of their proceedings to
the house.'' 1 lie prr.ceedings of tiiis commission, and of the assembly of divines
at Westminster, v\iih uhich \Varrislon had a distinguished connexion, may be
passed over as nnttei-s of general histoi-y. Warned, probably, by tlie cautious
intimations of the letter we have just quoted, Johnston was the constant atten-
dant of the l-."nglish commissioners on their progress to Scotland, and was the
pei^son who moved their business in tlie house.'' On the death of Sir Thomas
Hope, in ItJlG, Johnston had the influence to succeed him as lord advocate, an
office for which he seems to have seasoned himself by his numerous motions
against nialignants. With a firm adherence to his previous political conduct,
Johnston refused accession to the well-known engagement ivliich the duke of
Hamilton conducted as a last effort in behalf of the unfortunate monarch.

On the 10th of January, ltJl9, the marquis of Argyle delivered a speech,
" wicli he called the brecking of the malignants' teitli, and that he quho was to
speake after him, (viz. Warfiston) wolde brecke tlier jawes." j\rgylc found the j
teeth to be five, which he smashed one by one: — " His first was against the I
ingagers being statesmen, and intrusted with great places, quho had broken |
their trust. 11. Against the engagers' committee-men, quho by ther tyranny
had opprest the subjects. 111. Against declared malignants, formerlye fyned in
parliament, or remitted, and row agayne relapsed. IV, Against thesse that
wer eager j)romotters of the laitt ingagement with England. V. Against suche
as had petitioned for the advancement of the levey." .\fter these were demo-
lished, Johnston commenced his attack on the toothless jaws ; he " read a
speache two homes in lentlie, oft' his ]>apers, being ane explanatione of Argy le's
five heads, or teith, as he named them ; with the anssuering of such objects he
thought the pryme ingagers wolde make in their awen defence against the
housse now convened, Avich they did not acnouledge to be a lawfull parliament.'"'

On the (Jth of January, the imminent danger of the king prompted the
choosing a committee to act for his safety under instructions. The instructions
were fourteen ; and the most remarkable and essential, was, that a protest should
be taken against any sentence pronounced against the king. " That this kin"--
dome may be free of all the dessolatione, misery, and bloodshed, that incertablie
will follo^v thereupone, without ofiering in your ressone, that princes ar eximed
from trjall of justice.""'^ This was by no means in opposition to tlie principles
which Johnston had previously professed, but his mind appears to have been finally
settled into a deep opposition to all monarchy. Along with Argyle he distin-
guished himself in opposing the instructions, by a method not honourable to
their memory — a proposition that the measure should be delayed for a few days,
to permit a fast to be held in the interim. One of the last of his ministerial

gelling 0' covenant, ar grown to such a liijjlit of misclioef and niiserv, ns to make sucli a
rent at home as to disal)le us to assist C fiiiiids, and prosecute tliat r.mse whicli 1 am con-
fidt lit God will rarrie one and pcrfUe against all opposilione •, and in confKience tli' veof 1
shall encourage mjselfe, and rejo\ce under hope, aUlioghe 1 should never sie the end of itt.
1 l)estache )ou to haist kick this Luarer, and let me know willi liim the coiidilion of allairs in
Scotland ; how o"- goo<) freinds are, and how soon we may expect jo"- returne hitlur, or if I
must come to }ou befoir \e come to us. I retVir the marquiss of Argjlc and mv k.nl Bal-
merinoch, and other freinds to you for intelligence, to spaii' paines and supply tiie want ot
leasure ; and will sav noe more at this tynie, bot that i am \our niostati'ectioiiale' and faithfull
friend, Loudoun !■:."• — HWroiu's MS. Collectiun, vol. Ixvi. Tlie letter is dated from \Yorcester
house, ,Ianu.'ir\ C, 1G44.
" H^df. An', iii. 201, ?48. >8 ibid, 2C2. u Ibid, 377. -•> Ibid, 3Sl.

SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTON. 261

acts as lord ailvocate, was tlie prcMilaination of diaries ll. on tlie 5t]i of
February, 1619 ; and he was on tlie 10th of 3Iar(;li, in the same vear, appointed
to his long-looked-for post of lord register, in place of Gibson of Diuie, super-
seded by the act of classes. At the battle of Dunbar, in 1G50, he Mas one of
the committee of the estates appointed to superintend the militai'v motions of
Leslie, and was urgent in pressing the measure which is reputed to have lost
the day to the Scots. He was naturally accused of treachery, but the chnrge hr.s
not been supporled. " Waristoun," says Burnet, " was too hot, and Lesley
was too cold, and yielded too easily to their humoui-s, which he ought not to
iiave done;"'' and the mistake may be attributed to tlie obstinacy of these, who,
great in the cabinet and conventicle, tliougiit tliey must be equally great in war.

A\ arriston was among the few pe»-sons who in the committee of estates refused to
accede to the treaty of Charles II. at Breda; an act of stubborn consistency, which,
joined to others of a like nature, sealed his doom in the royal iienrt. After
the battle of Dunbar, tlie repeal of the act of classes, which was found necessary
as a means of re-constructing the army, again called forth his jaw-breaking
powers. Ke wrote " a most solid letter" on the subject to the meeting held
at St Andrews, July IS, 1651, which appears never to have been read, but
A\hich has been preserved by the careful Wodrow" for the benefit of posterity.
He wrote several short treatises on " the sinfulness of joining maliijnants,"
destroying their jnws in a very considerate and logical manner. One of these
is extant, and lays down its aim as follows :

" The first question concerning the sinfulness of the publick resolutions, hatli
bene handled in a former tractat. The other question reniaines, anent y* sin-
fulness and unlawfulness of the concurrence of particular persons." The ques-
tion is proposed in the following terras : — " viz", when God's covenanted people
intrusts God's covenanted interest to the power of God's anti-covenanted ene-
mies, though upon pretence to light against ane other anti-covenanted enemy —
whether a conscienscious covenanter can lanfullie concurre with such a partie in
sucli a cause, or may laufuliie abstane, and rather give testimonie by suffering
against both parties and causes, as sinlull and prejudiciall to God's honour and
interest. It is presupposed a dutie to oppose the common enemie. The ques-
tion is anent the nieanes of resisting the unjust invader."'

"Three things preniitted, 1. The clearing of terms. II. Some distinctions.
III. Some conjunctions handled."-'^ The postulates are, perhaps, rather too
sweeping for general opinion, but, presuming them to be granted, the reasonings
of this lay divine are certainly sufHciently logical within their naiTow space, and
may have appeared as mathematical demonstrations to those who admitted the
deep sin of accepting assistance from opponents in religious opinion. 'Ibis i-e-
sistance appears, however, to have been of a negative nature, and not to have
extended to the full extremity of the renionsti-ance of the west ; at least when
called on for an explanation by the committee of Estates, he declined owning
connexion with it : " Wari-eston did grant that he did see it, was at the voting
of it, but refussed to give his votte therin. He denayed that he \\es accesscrey
to the contriving of it at first."-^

After this period he appears to have been for some time sick of the fierce
politics in A\hich he had been so long engaged, and to have retired liimseK
into the bosom of a large family. He is accused by a contemporary — not of
much credit — of peculation, in having accepted sums of money lor the disposal
of offices under him ; and the same person in the same page states the improba-
ble circumstance of his having restored the money so gained, on all the offices

21 Buniet, 83. ^ AVodrow's Collecu'on, Ad. Lib. xxxii. 5, 15. " Ibid, IC.

21 Ball". An. iv. 169. Scots Worthies, 275.

262 SIR ARCHIBALD JOHNSTOX.

Leing abolished by Cromwell, and that lie \rss not affluent, having " conquest
no lands but Warriston,*" of ll)e avail of 1000 nierks Scot« a-) ear, where he
now li\es freed of trouble of state or countr\-."-'

lie was a member of the conimittee of jirotestors, A\ho in 1057, proceeded
to London to lay their onniplaints before tlie government. Cronnvell knew the
value of the man he had before him, and persuaded him to tr\- the path of am-
bition under the new government. Wodrow and others have found it convenient
to palliate his departure from the adl>ercrce to royalty, as an act for nliich it
was necessary to find apologies in strong calls of interest, and facility of temper.
It will, however, almost require a belief in all tlie mysteries of divine right, to
discover why Warriston should have adhered to royally without power, and how
the opinions he always professed should have made him prefer a factious support
of an absent prince to the senice of a powerful leader, his early friend and co-
adjutor in opposing hereditary loyalty.

On the 9th of July, 1657, he was re-appointed clerk register, and on the 3rd
©r November in the same year, he was named as one of the commissioners for
the administration of justice in Scotland.^ Crom\\ell n-eated Johnston a peer,
and he sat in the protector's upper house, with the tide of lord Warriston, oc-
cupj-ing a station more brilliant, but not so exalted as those he had previously
filled, .\fter the death of Cromwell, Warriston displayed his strong opposition
to the return of royalty, by acting as president of the committee of safety under
Richard Cromwell. Kno^\ing himself to be marked out for destruction, he fled
at the Restoration to France. It is painful, after viewing a life spent with
honour and courage, in the highest trusts, to trace this great nan's liie to an
end which casts a blot on the times, and on the human race. He was charged
to appear before the Estntes ; and having been outlawed in the usual form, on the
10th October, 1661, a reward of 5000 merks was offered for his apprehension.
By a fiction of law, the most horrible which a weak government ever invented
for protection against powerful subjects, but which, it must be acknowledged,
was put in force by Warriston and his confederates against IMontrose, an act ot
forfeiture in absence passed against him, and he was cordenined to death on Uie
loth of ?Iay, 1601. ITie principal and avowed articles of accusation against
him were, his official prosecution of the royalists, and particularly of Gordon of
Newton, his connexion with the Remonstrance, his sitting in parliament as a
peer of England, and his accepting office under Cromwell.

It was necessarj- that the victim of judicial vengeance should le accused of acts
which the law knows as crimes : and acts to which tlie best protectors of Charles
the Second's throne were accessarj-, were urged against this man. For the hid-
den causes of his prosecution we must however look in his ambition, the in-
fluence of his worth and talents, ar.d the unbending consistency of his political
principles : causes to which Wodrow has added his too ungracious censure of
regal vice.

In tie mean time, Johnston had been lurking in Germany and the Low Coun-
tries, from which, unfortunately for himself, he proceeded to France. A con-
fidant termed " major Johnston," is supposed to have discovered his retreat ;
and a spy of the name of Alexander Murray, commonly called '■ crooked 3Iur.
ray," was employed to hunt him out. This individual, narrowly watcliing the
motions of lady Waniston, discovered his dwelling in Rouen, and with consent
of the council of France, he was brought prisoner to England, and lodged in
the Tower on the &ili of June, 1063 ; thence he Avas brought to Edinburgh, not

** A sinall estate so rear Edinburgh as to be now cncrcached upon by its suburbs.

28 Stot of Scotstarvti's Stag. Slate, 127.

W Hajg and Bruntuii's Hist. College of Justice, 3C3.

for the purpose of being tried, but to suffer execution of the sentence passed on
him in absence. When pi-esented to parliament to i-eceive sentence, it was ap-
parent that age, hardship, and danger, liad done their work etfuctiially on hia
iron nerves ; and the intrepid advocate of the covenant exliibited tiic mental im-
becility of an idiot. His friends accused Ur Bates of having administered to him
deleterious drugs, and weakentid him by bleeding ; an improbable act, which
woild have only raised unnecessary indignation against tliose who already had
him sufficiently in their power. The apostate Sharpo, and his other enemies,
are said to have ridiculed the sick lion ; but there were at least a few of his op.
ponents not too hardened to pity the wreck cf a great intellect before them."^

Probably atfected by tlie circumstances of his situation, some of the members
showed an anxiety for a little delay ; but Lauderdale, who had received impera-
tive instructions regarding him, fiercely opposed the proposition, lie was sen-
tenced to be hanged at the cross of Edinburgh on the 22nd of July, his head be-
ing to be severed from his body, and placed beside that of his departed brother
in the cause, Guthrie. Of the mournful pageant Ave extract the following char-
acteristic account from Wodrow :

" The day of his execution, a high gallows or gibbet was set up at the cross,
and a scatTold made by it. About two o'clock he was taken from prison ; many
of his friends attended him in mourning. When he came out, he was full of
holy cheerfulness and courage, and as in perfect serenity and composure of mind
as ever he was. Upon the scaffold he acknowledged his compliance with the
English, and cleared himself of the least share of the king's death. He read his
speech with an audible voice, first at the north side and then at the south side of
the scaffold: iie prayed next, with the greatest liberty, fervour, and sense of his
own un worthiness, frecjuently using the foresaid expression. After he had taken
his leave of his friends, he prayed again in a perfect rapture ; being now near
the end of that s\veet work he had been so much employed about through his
life, and felt so much sweetness in. Then the napkin being tied upon his head,
he tried how it would fit him, and come down and cover his face, and directed
to the method how it should be brought down when he gave the sign. When
he was got to the top of the ladder, to which he Avas helped, because of bodily
weakness, he cried with a loud voice, ' I beseech you all who are the people of
God, not to scar [be scared] at sufferings for the interests of Christ, or stumble
at any thing of this kind falling out in those days ; but be encouraged to sutler
for him ; for I assure you, in the name of the Lord, he will bear your charges.'
This he repeated again with great fervoui", while the rope was tying about his
neck, adding, ' The Lord hath graciously comforted me.' Then he asked the
executioner if he was ready to do his office, who answering he was, he bid him

28 One of these was M'Kenzie, who, with uncharitable and improbable inferences, draws
the following grapliic picture of the scene: — " He was brouglit up tlie street discovered [un-
coveredj; and bting brought into the comrcil house of Edinburgli, where the chancefior and
others waited to examine him, he fell upon his face roaring, and witli tears entreated they
would pity a poor creature who had forgot all that was in his bible. This moved all the spec-
tators with a deep melancholy, and the chancellor, leflecting upon the man's former esteem,
and the great share he had in all the lale revolutions, could not deny some tears to the frailty
of silly mankind. At his examination ho pretended that he had lost so much blood by the
miskillfulness of his chirurgeoiis, that he lost his memory with his blood ; and I really believe
that his courage had indeed been drawn out with it. Within a few dajshuwas brought
before the parliament, where he discovered nothing but much weakness, running up and
down upon liis knees begging mere)'. But the parliament ordained his former sentence to be
put into execution, and accordingly he was executed at the cross of Edinburgh. At his exe-
cution he showed more composure than formerly, which his friends ascribed to God's miracu-
lous kindness for him, but others thought that he had only formerly put on this disguise of
madness to escape death in it, and that, finding the mask useless, he had returned, not to his
wit, which he had lost, but from his madness, which he had counterfeited." — Sir G. AVKcnzic s

264 DR. ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

do it, mid, crying cut, * O, pray, pvny ! praise, praise!' was turned oyer, and
diuil almost without a striiagle, with his hands lift up to lieavcn." -*

Tlie same partial hand lias thus drawn his cliaracter : " IMy lord \\ arriston
was a man of great learning and elo<iuence ; of very much wisdom, and extra-
ordinary zeal for tiie public cause of religion and reformation, in which he was
a chief actor; but above all, he was extraordinary in piety and devotion, as to
which he had scarce any equal in the age he lived in. One who was his inti-
mate aojuaintance says, he sjient more time, notwithstanding the great throng of
public business upon his hand, in prayer, meditation, and close observation of
providences, and self-exanunation, than ever he knew or heard of: and as he
was very diligent in making observations on the Lord's way, so he was visited
with extraordinary discoveries of the Lord's mind, and very remarkable provi-
dences. He wrote a large diary, which yet remains in the hands of his rela-
tions ; an invaluable treasure of Giiristian experiences and observations ; and,
as I am told by one who had the happiness to see some part of it, there is mixed
in sometimes matters of fact very little known now, which would bring a great
deal of light to the history of Scots atiairs, in that period wherein he lived."""

But his nephew Burnet, has in his usual characteristic manner, drawn a more
happy picture of tiie stubborn statesman and hardy zealot, too vivid to be neg-
lected : " Warristoun \\ns my own uncle ; he ^^as a man of great application,
could seldom sleep above three hours in the twenty-four : he had studied the
law carefully, and had a great quickness of thought, with an extraordinary
memory, lie went into very high notions of lengthened devotions, in which he
contiimed ninny hours a-day : he would often j)ray in his family two hours at a
time, and had an unexhausted copiousness that way. What tliougiit soever struck
his fancy during these cllusions, he looked on it as an answer of prayer, and was
wholly determined by it. He looked on the covenant as the setting Christ on
his throne, and so was out of measure zealous in it. He had no regard to the
raising himself or his family, though he l:ad thirteen children ; but prosperity
was to him more than all the world. He had a readiness and vehemence of
speaking that made him very considerable in public assemblies ; and he had a
fruitful invention ; so that he was at all times furnished with expedients."

JOHNSTON, (Du) Arthur, a poet and physician, was born in the year 15S7,
at Caskieben, the seat of his family, a few miles from Aberdeen. He was the
fifth son of George Johnston of that ilk and of Caskieben, the chief of the family
of Johnston, by Christian Forbes, daughter of William, seventh baron Forbes.
He appears to have been named after his uncle the honourable William Forbes
of Logic, who was killed at Paris in the year 1574.' This poet, whose chief
characteristic ^\as the elegance with which he expressed his o'.vn simple feelings
as a poet, in the language appropriate to the customs and feelings of a past
nation, has left in his Kpigrammata an address to his native spot ; and, although
Caskieben is a piece of very ordinary Scottish scenery, it is surprising ho>v much
I;e has made of it, by the mere force of his own early associations. With the
minuteness of an enthusiast, he does not omit the circumstance, tliat the hill of
Benochie, a conical elevation about eight miles distant, casts its shadow over
Caskieben at the periods of the equinox. As we shall be able, by giving this
epigram, to unite a specimen of the happiest original efforts of the author's
genius, with circnuitanccs personally connected with his history, we beg leave
to extract it : —

-'' Wocb'ow, i. 3-^5.

* Wodrow, i. 3GI. Much search has lately been made lur this interesting document, but
h.^s provcil v.iin.
1 Johnston's ilistory of the Family of Johnston, 3G.

1

i

1

DR. ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

2Gj

1
1

1

JEmiila TiifSsalicis en liic Joiistouia Tempc,

Hospes ! h\pcrboreo fusa sub axu viclis.

Millo per ambages nitidis argentuus undis,

Hie trepidat Ixtos Uiius inlcr agros.

Expliciit liic scras ingens Bennachius umbras,

Nox ubi libiatur lance diosque pari.
Gemmit'ur est amnis, radiat mons ipse lapiliis,

i

Queis nihil Eous purius orbis liabet.

Hie pandi| natura sinum, nativaque siirgons

Purpura felicem sub pede ditat liumum.

Aera per liquidum voiucres, in tluminc piscos,

Adspicisiii pratis luxuriare pucus.

i"

,

Hicseges est, hie poma rubent, onenintur aristis

Arva, suas tegre susiinet arbor opes.

Propter aquas arx est, ipsi contermina C(b!o,

Auctorij menti non tamen a;qua sui.

' 1

Imperat ha;c arvis et vcctigalibus undis,

j

Et famula stadiis distat ab urbe tribus.

'

1 ,

Ha;c mihi terra parens: gens has Jonstouia !ympl;;ib,

1

1

j

1

j

i

Arvaque per centum missa tuetur avos.
Clara PiJaronreis evasit Mantua cunis;
JMe mea natalis nobililabit humus.

TRAXSLATIOX.

Here, traveller, a vale behold
As fair as Tempe, lamed of old,

Btneath the northern sk} !
Here Urie, with her silver waves,

j
i

1
1
i

i

Her banks, in verdure smiling, laves.
And winding wimples by.

1

!

[

Here, towering high, Bennachie spreads
,\roinul on all liis evening shades,

When twilight grey comes on : ■
With sparkling gems the river glows :
As pi-ecious stones the mountain sliowg

As in the East are known.

i

Here nature spreads a bosom sweet,
And native dyes beneath the feet

Bedeck the joyous ground :
Sport in the liquid air the birds,
And fishes in the stream ; the herds

III meadows wanton round.

1

Here ample barn-yards still are slorcJ
With relics of last autumn's hoard

And firsiliiigs of this year;
There waving fields of yellow com,
And rudd\ a]iples, that adorn

The bending boughs, appear.

j

1 i

1

1

Beside the stream, a castle proud
Rises amid the passing cloud,

And rules a wide domain,
(Unequal to its lord's desert:)
A village near, with lowlier art,

Is built upon the plain.

1

1

1

ITI.

Here was I born ; o'er all the land
Around, the Johnstons bear command.

Of high and ancient line:
Mantua acquired a noted name
As Virgil's birlliplace; I my fame

Inherit shall from mine.

■Z L

266 DU, ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

In a similar spirit lie has left an epigram on the sinall burgh of Inverury, in
the neighboiirliood of Caskieben, in which he does not omit the circumstance,
that tlie fuel of the inhabitants (vulgo, the peats) cotiies from the land in which
he Avas born. A similar epigram to another neighbouring burgh, the royal
burgh of Kintore, now holding the mnk of a very small village, informs us that
at the grammar school of that place he commenced the classical studies, which
afterwards acquired for him so nmch eminence :

" Hie ego sum memini musarum factus alumnus,
Et tiro didici verba Latina loqui."

After leaving this humble seat of learning, he is said to have studied at iMari-
schal c<dlege in Aberdeen ; a circumstance extremely probable, but which seems
to liave no other direct foundation than the conjecture of Benson, from the
vicinity of his paternal estate to that institution, and his having been afterwards
elected rector of the university, an honour generally bestowed on illustrious
alumni.'

Johnston, intending to study medicine, a science which it would have been in
vain at that period to have attempted in Scotland, proceeded to Rome, and af-
terwards to Padua, where he seems to have acquired some celebrity for the
beauty of his earlier Latin poems, and took the degree of doctor in medicine,^
He afterwards travelled through Germany, Holland, and Denmark, and finally
fixed jiis abode in France. If he remained for a considerable period at Padua,
lie must have early finished his curriculum of study at Aberdeen, as he is said
by Sir Thomas Urquhart, to hare been laui-eated a poet in Paris at the age
of twenty-three.

He remained for twenty years in France, a period during which he was
twice married, to ladies wliose n.anies are unknown, but who bore him thirteen
children, to transmit his name to posterity. On his return to Britain about the
year 1G32, probably at the recommendation of Laud, who was his friend, and
had connnenced the career of court influence, Johnston was appointed physician
to Cha)-les I., a circumstance which must have preceded or immediately followed
his arrival, as he styles himself in the first edition of his Parcrga and Epigrani-
mata, published at Aberdeen in 1632, " 3Iedicus Ilegius."' The Parerga con-
sists, as its name may designate, of a variety of small pieces of poetry, which
cannot be conveniently classed under a more distinct name. A few are satirical,
but the lyrical (if they may be said to come correctly under that designation)
form the most interesting portion. Johnston seldom indulges in the metaphoric
brilliancy \Nhich cliaracteri'/ed the native writers in the language which he chose
to use ; but he has a considerable portion of their elegance, >vhile much of the
poetry is founded on association and domestic feeling, of which he has some ex-
quisitely beautiful traits, which would have been extremely pleasing had he used
his vernacular tongue. He is said to have wished to imitate Virgil ; but
those wlio have elevated Buchanan to the title of " the Scottish Virgil," have
designated .lohnston the " Scottish Ovid;" a characteristic which may apply to
the versification of his Psalms, but is fiir from giving a correct idea of the spirit
of liis original pieces. It may not be displeasing to tlie reader who is unac-
quainted with the works of this neglected author, to give an extract from one
of the I'arcrga, addressed to his eai'ly friend and school companion ^^ edder-

* Kcnson's Life, prefixed to Johnston's Psilms, vi.

^ " Quod ex Girminc manucciipto in Advocalnrum HililiotJieca, F-diiihurgi servjito, intclli-
gimus. '■ The circumstance is menlumed in Sir U obert .Sibbald's Bibliograpnia Scutica, which
tiiougti not a " carmen," may be tlie MS. referred to.

DR. ARTHUR JOHNSTON. 20/

burn, a piece strikingly depictive of tlie author's afTectionate feelings, ami pro-
bably detailing the effects of excessive study and anxiety :

" Cernis ut obropons niihi, Weddcrbume, senetta

Spiirscrit indiguus per caput onine nivea.
Debile fit corpus, pulsis int'lioribus aniiis,

Nee vigor iiigeuii, qui fuit ante, milii est.
Tempore mutato, mores mutanlur et ipsi,

Nee capior studiis rpice placuere prius,
Antcleves risus, ct eraiit jocularia cordi,

Nunc ine morosuin, difRcilemijuo vides.
Prona fit in rixas mens, et proclivis in iras,

Et senio pejor cura senilis edit.
His ego, qurc possum, quaero medicamina morbis,

Et mala, qua fas est, pellere nitor ope.
Saepe quod excgi pridem, juvenile revolve

Tempus, ct in mcntemtu mihi ssepe redis.
Par, memini, cum noster amorse prodidit, E8l;is,

Par genius nobis, iiigeniumque fuit.
Unus et ardor erat, Phoebi conscendere collem,

Iiique jugo summo sistere posse pedcm," &c *

Benson mentions, that Johnston was a litigant in the court of session in
Edinburgh, at the period of his return to Britain ; and probably the issue of
his suit may account for a ratlier unceremonious attack in the Parerga, on
advocates and agents, unblushingly addressed " Ad duos rabuhis forenses, Advo-
catuni et Procuratorem," of whom, without any respect for the college of Jus-
tice, the author says,

" Magna minorque ferae, quarum paris altera lites;
Altera dispensas, ulraque digna mori," &c.

On approaching the period when Johnston published his translation of the
Psalms of David, we cannot help being struck with the circumstances under which
he appears to have formed the design. Dr Eaglesham had, in the year 1620, pub-
lished a criticism of considerable length, for the purpose of proving that the public
voice had erred in the merit it allowed to Buchanan's version of the Psalms, and
modestly displaying a translation of the 104th psalm, of his own workmanship,
between which and the psalms of Buchanan he challenged a comparison.^ Dr
William Barclay penned a critical answer to this challenge,® and Johnston made
a fierce stroke at tlie offender, in a satirical article in the Parerga, which ho
calls " Consilium Collegii Medici Parisiensis de iMania Hypermori Medicastri,"
commencing

" QusB Buohanauaeis medicaster crimina musis
Objicit, et quo se jactat inane melos ;
Vidimus : et quutquot tractamus PcEonis artes,
Hie vatcs, uno diximus ore, furit," &c.

Johnston, however, did not consider himself incapacitated to perform a work
in which another had failed, and he probably, at that period, formed the reso-
lution of writing a version of the psalms, which he afterwards produced, under

* Mr George Chalmers has stated that Wedderbum was the master of Johnston. Dr
Ii-viiig aptly considers that the verses we have quoted above disprove the statement.

' EgHsemii certamen cum Georgio Buchaiiano pro dignitate Paraphraseos Psalmiciv. Lon-
don, 1620.;

" Barclaii Judicium de certamine Eglisemii cum Buchanaiio pro dignitate Paraphra--
seos Psalmi civ.

2G8 _ T)TJ. ARTHUR JOHNSTON.

the auspices, and with the advice of his friend Laud, which he published at
London and Aberdeen, in 1(137. No man ever coiiiniitted a more imprudent
act for his own fame ; as lie was doomed by the nature of liis task, not only to
equal, but to excel, one of tiie greatest poets in the world. His fame was not
increased by the proceedings of his eccentric countryman Lauder, who nianv
years aftcrwaids endeavoured with a curious pertinacity to raise th.e fame of
Johnston's version far above tliat of Buchanan. 3Ir auditor Benson, a man
better known for his benevolence than his acuteness, Avas made the trumpet of
Johnston's fame. This gentleman published three editions of Johnston's ps.ilms ;
one of which, printed in 1741, and dedicated to prince George, afterwards
George 111., is ornamented with a very fine portrait of the poet by Vertue after
Jamesono, and is amply illustrated with notes. The zealous editor received as
his reward from tlie literary world, a couplet in the Dunciad, in which, in
allusion to his having procured the erection of the monument to the mcinory
of 3iiltoii in Westminster abbey, it is said

" On two unequal crutches propt he came,

IVIilton's on this, on tliat one Johnston's name."

Benson has received much ridicule for the direction of his labours ; but if the
life of Johnston prefixed to the edition of tlie psalms is from his pen, it does
credit to his erudition. Many controversial pamphlets were tlie consequence of
this attempt, — Mr Love answering Lauder, while Benson had to stand a more
steady attack from the critical pen of Ruddiman. It would tire our readers
here to trace a controversy which we may have occasion to treat in another
place. Tlie zeal of these individuals has not furthered tiie fame of Johnston :
and, indeed, the lieight to which they attempted to raise his merit, has naturally
rendered the world blind to its real extent. It cannot be said that the version
of Buchanan is so eminently superior as to exclude all comparison ; and, indeed,
we believe the schools in Holland give Johnston the preference, Avith almost as
much decision, as we grant it to Buchanan. The merit of the two, is, indeed,
of a dirterent sort, and avc can fortunately allow that each is excellent, Avithout
bringing them to a too minute comparison. Johnston has been universally
allowed to have been the more accurate translator, and few exceptions can be
found to the purity of his language, while he certainly has not displayed either
the richness, or the majesty of Buchanan. Johnston is considered as having
been unfortunate in his method : while IJuchanan has luxuriated in an amazing-
variety of measure, he has adhered to the elegiac couplet of hexameter and
pentameter, excepting in the ll'Jth psalm, in which he has indulged in all the
varieties of 1) rical arrangement which the Latin language admits : an inapt
dioice, as Hebrew scholai's pronounce that psalm to be the most prosaic of the
sacred poems.'

' An esteemed correspondent supplies us with the following note: — " It may he enough to
prove the elegance and accuracy of Arthur Johnston's Lalinity, to say, that his vt rsion of the
lOith psalm has frequently been compared with that of Buchanan, and that scholai-s arc not
unanimous in adjudging it to be inferior. As an original poet, he doi;S not aspire to the same
liigh conipanionsliip, though his compositions are pieiising, and not without spirit. One curi-
ous particular concerning these two authors iias been remarked by Dr Johnson, from w.hich,
it would ap|)ear, that modern literature owed to the more distinguished of tin m a device very
convenient for those wliose po were of description were limited. AVhen a rhymer protested
ids mistress resembled Venus, he, in fact, acknowledged his own iiicipacity to celebrate her
charms, and gave instead a sort of catchword, by means of which, referring back to the
ancients, a general idea of female perfections might be obtained. This conventional lafiguage
was introduced by Buchanan; ' who,' sa\s the critic just named, 'was the first who compli-
mented a lady, by ascribing to her the dilierent perfections of the heathen goddesses; but
Johnston,' he adds, ' improved ujion this, by making his mistress at the s;ime time, free
from their defects 1' "

DK. ARTHUR JOIINSTOX. 2G9

A writer in liie Scots 31agazine for the year 1741, has noticed one excellence
in tiie psalms of Dr Johnston, distinct from those Mhich have been so amply
heaped on him by Lauder ; and as we agree with the author in his opinion of
tl'.e quality, we shall quote his words : " There is one perfection in the doctor's
version, which is not suflicientiy illustrated; and that is, the admirable talent he
Jms of expressing things which are peculiar to the sacred writings, and never to
be met willi in classic authors, in the most pure and elegant Latin. This the
reader will perceive if lie looks into the 83rd and lOSth psalms : and still more
so upon perusing the Te Deum and the apostles' creed. ' To thee all angels
cry alotifl, the heavens and all the powers therein ; To thee clienibim and sera-
phim continually do cry, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of 8abaotli.'"

'' Grex sacer auralis qui pervolat aethera pennis
Imperio nutuque tuo ; supremaque mundi
Templa, tua ca;lata maim ; caelique poleslas
Oimiis; et igne miams acies-, ct lucidus oido,
Agmim's ah'goii princeps, tibi, inaxime icrum,' SiC.

IIoAV pcotically are the angels described by

Grex sacer auratis qui peivolat roliiera peniiis.

And in like manner the cherubim and seraphim, who ai'C mentioned with the
powers of heaven,^

•' Cfelique potestas," &c.

A late writer, considerably versed in classical and biblical criticism — Mr Ten-

nant whose opinion coincides to a certain extent niLli that whicli we have just

quoted, finds, that even after the luxuriant fervidness of Buchanan, there is
much to admire in the calm tastefuliiess and religious feeling of Johnston, and
that the work of the latter is not only a more faithful translation, but given in a
manner better suited (in his opinion,) to the strains of the holy minstrel, than
that followed by the fiery genius of Buchanan, .when restricted to translation.
" He is not," remarks this author, " tempted like Buchanan, by his luxuriance
of phraseology, and by the necessity of filling up, by some means or other,
metrical stanzas of prescribed and inexorable length, to expatiate from the
psalmist's simplicity, and weaken, by circumlocution, \vhat he must needs beat
out and expand. His diction is, therefore, more firm and nervous, and, though
not absolutely Hebrrean, makes a nearer approach to the unadorned energy of
Jewry. Accordingly, all the sublime passages are read with more touching
eflect in his, than in Buchanan's translation : he has many beautiful and even
powerful lines, such as can scarce be matched by his more popular competitor ;
the style of Johnston possessing some^vhat of Ovidian ease, accompanied with
strength and simplicity, while the tragic pomp and worldly parade of Seneca
and Prudentius are more aflected by Buchanan."''

Let us conclude this subject Avith remarking the peculiar circumstance, that
while Scotland has produced two Latin versions of the psalms, rivals in excel-
lence, the talent of the whole nation has been unable to produce any English
version which can be considered as their equal in point of versification. In
1641, Johnston died at Oxford, where he had gone on a visit to a daughter mar-
ried to a divine of the church of England. Besides the works already mentioned,
he wrote iMusffi Aulica^, addressed to his eminent contemporaries, translated Solo-
mon's Song, the Creed, and the Lord's Prayer, and edited the Uelitia; Poetarum

* Scot. Miig. iii. 255. » Ed. Lit. Journal, iii. 2e;Q.

270 JAMES JOHNSTONE,

Scotorum, in which he introduced not a few of his own productions. His works
were published nt Middleburj, in lGt2, by his friend Scott of ScotstarvcL
The present representatives of his fauiily are, Sir William Johnston of Hilton,
in Aberdeenshire, and Mr Johnston of View field in the same county.

The broilier of the poet was a man of some local celebrity ; he was Dr Williara
Johnston, professor of matliematics in the 3Iarischal college of Aberdeen- " He
was," says Wodrow, '" aue learned and experienced physitian. He wrote on
the mathemalics. His dull in the Latin was truly Ciceronian."''

JOHNSTONE, James, a physician of some eminence, was born at Annan in
the year 1730. He was the fourtli son of John Johnstone, Jiq. of Galabank,
one of the oldest branches of the family of that name. He received the rudi-
ments of his classical education from Dr Henry, the well known author of the
History of Great Britain. The science of medicine he studied first in Edinburgh
and afterwards in Paris ; and such was his progress in these studies, that he
took the degree of doctor of mediiine before he had completed his twenty-first
year. On this occasion he published a thesis, " De Aeris Factitii Imperio in
Corpore Humano/' ^^hich discovered an ability that procured him many valuable
friends. On completing his education, Dr Johnstone commenced practice at Kid-
derminster, in Worcestershire, where he quickly acquired a great degree of
celebrity by the successful manner in which he treated a peculiar epidemic,
called, from its remarlvable virulence in that locality, the Kiddenuinster fever.
Of this fever, and his mode of treating it, he published an account in 1753, an
exceedingly important treatise, from the circumstance of its pointing out the
power of minerals and vapours to correct or destroy putrid febrile contagion.
This discoveiy, now so frequently and successfully employed in arresting tlie
progress of infection, and in purifying infected places, though since claimed by
otliei-3, belongs beyond all doubt to Dr Johnstone ; who pointed out also the
simple process by which it avos to be effected — viz., by pouring a little vitriolic
acid on common salt.

Dr Johnstone was well known in the learned world by several interesting pub-
lications on subjects connected with his profession, and by several important ad-
ditions whicli lie made to the general stock of medical knowledge. Amongst
these was the discovery of a cure for the ganglion of the nerves, and of the lym-
phatic glands.

From Kidderminster he removed to Worcester, where he continued to prac-
tise till within a few days of his death, which happened in 1302, in the seventy-
third year of his age. His death was much regretted, and it was then consi-
dered that the medical science had by that event lost one of its brightest
ornaments. Dr Johnstone acquires no small degree of additional celebrity from
his liaving been the intimate friend of the amiable George lord Lytileton, and
from his being the author of the affecting account of that nobleman's death, in-
serted by Dr Johnson in his Lives of the Poets.

In a letter which he addressed to the editor of Doddridge's Letters, he says —
" Lord Bacon reckons it a great deficiency in biography that it is for the most
part confined to the actions of kings and princes, and a few persons of high
rank, wliile tlie memory of men distinguished for ivorth and goodness in the
lower ranks of life has been only preserved by tradition." The latter character
was Dr Johnstone's, and the deficiency would indeed have been great had his
name been omitted in the list of those w ho have deserved well of their country
and of posterity. His general character and conduct are spoken of in terms of
high admiration by all iiis contemporaries and biographei-s ; and the serenity of
his deatli, the cheerful and resigned spirit in which he contemplated and awaited

1' Catiiloguis of Scottish Writers, publislitcl by Mr Miidment, Edinburgli, ]S33, p. 114.

JOHN JOHNSTON. 271

thnt event, is niada a conspicuous feature in the history of his useful but unob-
trusive life.

His celebrity as a medical practitioner was very great, and his professional
skill was fortunately associated with a singular degree of kindness and amenity
of manner — qualities to Aviiich the Kev. Job Orton, a man himself celcijrated for
piety and talent, thus bears testimony : " I left Shrewsbury and came to Kid-
derminster, that I might have the advice of a very able and skilful physician,
Dr Johnstone, who hath always proved himself a faithful and tender friend, to
whose care as a physician I, under God, owe my life, and to whose friendship I
am indebted for some of the greatest comforts of it."

Several of Dr Johnstone's physiological inquiries were published in the Phi-
losophical Transactions, and aro to be found in the Sltii, 57th, and GOth
volumes of that work. They were afterwards enlarged and printed separately.

JOHNSTON, John, a Latin poet and classical scholar of considerable emi-
nence in the earlier part of the 1 7th century. Though this individual is one of
the ornaments of a very distinguished age of Scottish literature, the date of his
birth is not accurately ascertained, but it must have been previous to the year
1570, as in 1537 he began to be known to the world. He styles himself
** Abi-edonensis ;" and as he was a member of the house of Crimond, he was
probably born at the family seat near Aberdeen, Dr M'Crie, whose minute la-
bours have thrown so much light on the literary history of this period, has,
among- other facts connected with Johnston, (which we shall here carefully re-
capitulate,) discovered the name of his master, from the last will of the poet, in
•which he affectionately leaves to that individual his white cup with the silver
foot."^ The same instrument appoints, as one of his executors, " Mr Kobert
Johnston of Creimond," probably his brother, a person who appears to have been
in 1635 elected provost of Aberdeen.- Johnston studied at King's college in
Aberdeen, whence, after the usual custom of the age, he made a studious pere-
grination among the continental universities, which he continued during a
period of eight years. In 1587, we find him at the university of Helmstadt,
whence he transmitted a manuscript copy of Buchanan's Sphjera, to be re-edited
by Pincier, along with two epigTams of his own."* In 15S7, he was at the uni-
versity of Rostock, where he enjoyed the intimacy and correspondence of the
elegantly learned but fanciful Justus Lipsius. An epistle from this veteran in
classical criticism to his younger associate, is preserved in the published corres-
pondence of the former, and may interest from the paternal kindness of its
spirit, and the acknowledgment it displays of the promising genius of tlio young
bcotUsh poet.

" You love me, my dear Johnston, and you praise my constancy. I heartily
second the former statement, but as to the latter, I am afraid I must receive it
with some diffidence, for I fear I have not achieved the praiseworthy excellence
in that quality which your affectionate feelings have chosen to assign to me. I
am, however, not a little flattered by the circumstance that David Chytraus (by
ilie way, who is that man?) is, as you say, of the same opinion with yourself in
this matter, whether by mistake or otherwise. Whatever may be in this, I love
. — indeed I do — that constancy which has secured ine so many friends ; in the
number of which, my dear Johnston, I not only ask, but conniiand you to con-
sider yourself as henceforth enrolled. Should God again grant to me to stand
on and behold the soil of Germany, (and such an event may perhaps happen

> Item — I leave to Mr Robert Merscr, Persoun of Banquhoriu, (IJanchory, near Aber-
deen,) my auld kynd mnister, in taikcn of my thankful dewtie, my quh^it cope willi tlie sil-
ver fit." — M'Crie's Melville, i. 351.

' History of the Family of Jolmston, 29.

' xM'Criu's Melville, i. 331.

272 JOHN JOHNSTON.

sooner than «c wisli, as matters are now moving,) I sliall see t)ieo, and we shall
shake liaiuls as a tolien of truth and affection. For your verses I return you
llianks, whicli sliall be doubly increased, if you uill frerj'iently favour nie with
your letters, in which I perceive evident marks of your \vonte<l elegance and

erudition Le^/den, the 2')th March, I5S5."'

■Johnston appears to have early embraced the doctrines of the presbyteiian
cliurch of Scotland, and to have retained them witli the characteristii; firmness of
the body. He was the intimate friend of its accomplished supporter Andrew Mel-
ville, whose inlluence probably procured hiiii tiie appointment to ths professor-
ship of divinity in the new college of St Andrews, as successor to John ilobert-
son, — an advancement which he obtained previously to tlie year 15!)4., as he is
discovered, under the term " maister in the new college," to liave been elected
one of the elders of St Andrews, on the 23th November, 1533. Johnston was
a useful assistant to his illustrious friend, in the opposition to the harassing
eiforts of king James to introduce episcopacy. He must b.ave been included in
the interdict of the visitation of the university commission, by which tlie pro-
fessors of theology and philosophy, not being pastoi-s of the church, Avere pro-
hibited from sitting in church courts, except through an election regulated by the
council of the visitation : and in the General Assembly wliicli met at Dundee in
lo'JS, whither both had resorted to oppose the too great tenderness of James
for the church, in proposing to aduiit its representation in parliament, 3Ielville
and Jolniston were charged to quit the city, with the usual formality of the pain
of rebellion in case of refusal. In 1G03, tliese friends again appear acting in
concert, in a correspondence with Du Plessis, on the subject or' the synod of
Gap in France having censured certain peculiar opinions on the doctrine of
justification. " They did not presume to judge of the justice of the synod of
Gap, but begged leave to express their fears tliat strong measures would inflame
the minds of tlie disputants, and that a fartiier agitation of the question might
breed a dissension very injurious to the interests of the evangelical churches. It
appeared to them that both parties held tlie protestant doctrine of justification,
and only diltered a little in their mode of explaining it. Tliey, therefoi'e, in
tlie name of their brethren, entreated Du Plessis to employ the authority which his
piety, prudence, learned writings, and illustrious services in the cause of Chris-
tianity had given liiin in the Galilean church, to bring about an amicable ad-
justment of the controversy."-" Witliout inquiring into the minutia of the con-
troversy, the knowledge that it was a theologic^il one is sutlicient to make us
appreciate the advice as exceedingly sound ; and we have the satisfaction to
know, as a rare instance, that it produced the desired ellect. During tlie pre-
vious year Johnston had published at Amsterdam his first complete poetical

* " Joanui Johnstono, Scoto.

"Quod et me arnas, ct constaiitiam meam laudas, mi Jonston": a'.terum valdeamplector
et approbo, alteram timide, quia scio reipsa non attingere me culmen hoc laudis, in quo col-
locat mc tuus afleetus. Elsi tameii iionnihil blandilur, quod David Cliytrjeus (quisille vir?J
paritcr tecum, ut ais, sive judic;it, sivc errat. Quidquid hujus est, amo, jam amo coii-
stantium mcam qux tim multos mihi conciliat amicos. In quo numero ut fidenter te dein-
cup? ceiiseas, mi Jonstone, jubeo, non solum rogo. Quod si Deus miiii tangere et videre
Gerniaiiia; solum iterum dederit (fiet fortasse voto citius, ut res liic fluuiit) te vidcbo, ct dex-
! teram jungani, tesseram fidei ct amoris. De carmine gratiam tilii iiabco, magis magisqus
! habiturus, si crebro me epistolis tuis salutaveris, in quibus notas claras video elegantioe priscre
I et doctiin.-c. Lugd. IJatav., xi Kalcnd., April. 15S3." — Up^ii Opera, ii. 29. Letter xxK\iU.
D.ivid Cli) tra;U5, whom Lipsiu= singularly does not appear to Jiave linown, w.is a man of
much eminence ; he was professor of divinity at llostock, and died pretty much advanced in
)ears about the year ICOO. lie wrote several works, among which his coiitinuation of Albert
Crantz's History of the Saxons and Vandals, and his " Histoire De la Confession d'Aux-
bourg," were published previously to the date of this epistle. Lipsius had everv reason to be
modest on the subject of iiis "constancy."
» M'Crie's Melville, 11. 101,

JOHN JOHNSTON. 273

work, entitled " Iiiscriplioiies Historicse Regum Scotorum, continuata annorura
serie a Fergiisio T. atl Jaoobum VI. Pi-cTfixus est Gatlielus, sive da gentis ori-
giiie, Fragmentuni Antlreaj JMelvini. Adtlitt'e sunt icones omnium regum nobilis
FainilitE Stuartoruin," 4.to ; and in 1G03, he published at Leydcn, " Heroes ex
omni Historia Scotica Lectissimi," 4to. Both these productions have been
preserved in the Uelitias Poetarum Scotorum, by tlie author's relative, Arthur
Johnston. The former is a series of epigrammatic addresses to the Scottish
monarchs, commencing with Fergus I., and duly passing through the ex-
tended list, to the reigning monarch James VI ; regarding whom it is worthy of
commendatory remark, that the author is more lavish of conunendations on the
good fortune which Providence had bestowed on him, than on his talents or
kingly qualities. The " Heroes " is a tissue of similar epigrams, addressed to
tlie heroes who distinguish the reigns of the same line of kings, commencing
with Ferchard, the great commander-in-chief of king lleuthei". Of course, both
works laud the virtues of many men who never drew breath. The merits of
Johnston as a poet cannot be said to rise beyond those of the mere epigramma-
tist : to the classical elegance of his Latinity, we believe few objections can bo
found, but he displays more of the neatness of illustration, and precise aptness
of association, ^vhich may be taught, than of the inborn poetic fire; and his
works are perhaps more pleasing in the restrictions of a classical tongue, than
they might have been had he allowed himself to i-ange in the freedom of his ver-
nacular language. When treating those who never existed, or of whom little is
known, the absence of all interest from the subject adds to the coldness of the
epigram, and leaves room for the mere conceit to stand alone ; but in treating of
interesting or remai'kable events, Johnston could sometimes be lofty, and strike a
chord of feeling. We might instance, as favourable specimens, the epigram to
the family of the Frasers, massacred by the Clanranald in 1541, and that to
Itobert the Bruce. In 1G09, Johnston published at Leyden, " Consolatio
Christiana sub Cruce, et Iambi de Felicitate Hominis Deo reconciliati, 8vo; in
1611, he published " Iambi Sacri ;" and in 1612, " Tetrasticha et Lemmata
Sacra — Item Cantica Sacra — Item Icones llegum Judeas et Israelis. Lugd. Bat."

Jolmston died in the month of October, 1612 ; the last scene of his life is
drawn by James IMelville in a letter to his uncle, dated the 25th of November
ensuing ; of which we cannot avoid giving the terms, as translated by Dr
M'Crie, *' Your colleague John Johnston closed his life last month. He sent
for the members of the university and presbytery, before whom he made a con-
fession of his faith, and professed his sincere attachment to the doctrine and dis-
cipline of our church, in which he desired to die. He did not conceal his
dislike of the lately erected tyranny, and his detestation of the pride, temerity,
fraud, and whole conduct of the bishops. He pronounced a grave and ample
eulogium on your instructions, admonitions, and example ; craving pardon of
God and you, for having oflendod you in any instance, and for not having
borne more meekly Avith your wholesome and friendly anger. As a memorial,
he has left you a gilt velvet cap, a gold coin, and one of his best books. His
death would have been a most mournful event to the church, university, and
all good men, had it not been that he has for several years laboured under an
incurable disease, and that the ruin of the church has swallowed up all lesser
sorrows, and exhausted our teai's."'

We learn that he had married Catharine jlelville of the family of Carrlbee —

« IMiiiclmont's Catalogues of Srots Writers, 14— Sibbnlu's Bibliolhcca Scottica, IMS., 49.
There is some dilLrciice in the iinmcs, as repordtd by tliese two writers, and never having
seen the works themselves, we taka wliat appear to be the more correct titles.

' M'Crie's Melville, ii: 281.

111. 2 M

274

ROBERT JOHNSTON.

but at what period seeiui not to be known — and he has left behind him epitaphs
on her and tlieir two children. It appeai-s that in IGOO, he iiad been solicited
to become " second minister" of Haddington. Besides tlie \vorl<s already men-
tioned, tliero exist, or did exist by him in MS. in the Advocates' Library,
Tlioi 'S.T-.:p'xvoiv sive do coronis 3Iartyruiii in Scotia Liber LJnus, — IJe coronis
3Lirtyrum in Anglja Libellus alter, — and I'eculiinn l'>cclesi;e Scoiic^inae, et alia
quied.im Poemata." He wrote epig^rams on the chief towns of S(X)lland, which
have boL'n api)roi)riately inserted in Camljden's Britannia; and some of his let-
ters are to be fo:ind in the correspondence of tiiat eminent antiquary. Andrew
Melville says, " .Mr Juhne Davidsone left sinn nots behind of our tyme, and so
did ."Mr .lohne Joiuistoua :" what has become of these >ve know not.

JOILS'STOX, KoBERT, an iiistorian, existed in the earlier part of the seven-
teenth century. The works of tiiis individual are well known, but he has not
aciiieved personal eminence ; and we neither know when he was born, nor the
station which he oc(;upied in life. At Amsterdam was printed in IG53, his
" llistoria Reruni Britannicarum, ut et niultarum Gallicarum, Belgicarum, et
Gerinanicarum, tani politicarum, qiiain ecclesiasticarum, ab anno 1573, ad
IG28."

This work was intended as a continuation of Buchanan ; and bishop Nichol-
son, no bestower of heedless praise, appears to think that it nearly equals in
style tlio work which it imitated.' Tlie late lord Woodhouselee, a less scrupu-
lous critic \vhere a Scotsman was concerned, calls it " A work of great merit,
wlietlier we consider the judicious structure of the narrative, tlie sagacity of the
reflections, the acute discernment of characters, or tlie classical tincture of the
style. In those passages of his history," says this writer, " where there is room
for a display of eloquence, he is often singularly happy in touching those char-
acteristic circumstances which present the picture strongly to the mind of the
reader, without a vain parade of words, or artificial refinement of sentiment.
We may cite as an example, his description of the death of IMary, queen of
Scots, lib. iv. suh anno, 153(3 : and the circumstances attending the death of
Essex, with the aullior's reflections on that event, lib. ix. sub anno, 1641."
The same author farther mentions that Robert Johnston was one of the execu-
tors of George Heriot, the founder of the hospital.'^ Johnston, besides this
extensive work, wrote " The History of Scotland during the minority of James
VI.," published at London in iG4G. Wodrow mentions an " Epitome Histo-
riie llerum Britannicarinn," published, according to his account, in 12mo, in
lG-t2, some time previously to the appearance of the larger work.^ Sir Robert
Sibbald seems to find nothing more remarkable to tell us about Johnston, than
that he was on intimate terms with J3ruce, baron of Kinloss. " Robertus
Jonstonus baroni Killosensi Brusio dum vivcret, charus : vir varias lectionis,
egregiae eruditionis, limati judicii." He mentions that Johnston is said to have
died in 1G30, and gives us an epigram on his history from tlie pen of Joannes
Owen.' There is in the Advocates' Library a ponderous manusr,ript History of
Scotland, by a person of the name of Johnston, and generally understood to be
at least partly written by the subject of our memoir. The manuscript li .s
belonged to lord Fairfax, and at the commencement is the following note in his
handwriting :

*' Of the gift of ;\Ir Uavid Johnston, burgess of Edinburgh, itt beinge the
labour of his late father and grandfather, (the first draught.) A transcript

' Nfcliolsoii's Scottish Historical Librar\-, 121.

• Teller's K:iiiii:s, i. A|). i.

' Wodruw's (Jatal()5U(!S of Scottish Writers, 1 1.

* Sibbakli Bibliolli. Swt. MS., 2jJl.

PAUL JONES. 275

whereof lie reserves to himself, (but is not all pi-iiited,) nor is ther any coppy
therof, but onlye this, beinge for the most part a translation of Bucquhaiiaii,
but with very many additions not thought fit to publish. Fairfax 20th Octo-
ber, 1G55."

JONES, Paul, (originally John Paul,) a nautical genius of no ordinary cliar-
acter and endowments, was born at Arbigland, in the parish of Kirkbean, and
stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in the month of July, 1747. He was the reputed
son of Jolm Paul, who acted as gardener to Mr Craik of Arbigland, by his wife,
who had been cook to the same gentleman. It was generally believed, how-
ever, that 3Ir Craik was the real father of this extraordinary adventurer. The
education of Paul Jones — to use the name which he assumed in after life — was in
no respect dill'erent from that usually given in Scotland to boys of his rank ; and it
is not recorded that he showed any symptoms, while at school, of that capacity
by which he was undoubtedly distinguished in advanced life. From his earliest
years he manifested a decided predilection for a seafaring life, and at the age
of twelve, was apprenticed as a mariner to a Mr Young, a respectable merchant
in Whitehaven, whence he made his first voyage in 1760, in the ship Friendship
of that port, under the care of a captain Benson, for the Eappahannoc, Virginia.
Living on the shore of the Solway, all the amusements and ideas of young Paul
seem to have been from his very cradle maritime. While yet a mere child he
hoisted his mimic flag, rendezvoused his tiny fleet, and gave forth his orders to
his imaginary captains, with all the consequence of a veteran commander. The
town of Dumfries was at this period deeply engaged in American trade, parti-
cularly in importing tobacco, and the Nith being too shallow to float the larger
vessels up to the town, their cargoes were discharged at Carse-thorn, on the Gal-
loway coast, where the subject of this memoir Avns a daily observer of their op-
erations, and not unfrequently ventured to challenge the modes of procedure
followed by experienced seamen. Here, too, he had early and abundant
opportunities of becoming acquainted with the colonists engaged in that traffic,
whose bold and liberal sentiments seem, at a very early period of his life, to
have made the New World, as he afterwards expressed himself, " the country of
his fond election." These early impressions were doubtless aided by the circum-
stance of an elder brother having settled there, and being in the full enjoyment
of the peace and the plenty with which, so long as the states were submissive
colonies of Great Britain, it was universally admitted the inhabitants were gen-
erally blessed. AVith this brother he made his abode during the time his ship
was in the Rappahannoc on his first voyage, and most probably on his subse-
quent voyages; which could not fail in some degree to liave attached him to the
country, though he had been devoid of any prepossessions in its favour. The
early indications of genius, which we have noticed above, were fully supported
in his new station. His singular intelligence and propriety of conduct ex-
cited the wonder, and, in some degree, the respect of his ship-mates, at the
same time that they gained him the esteem and the confidence of his employer,
who promised to give him the proof of his ai)probation by appointing him to the
command of one of his ships. Unfortunately for both parties, untoward circum-
stances prevented the master from having it in his power to pay this substantial
tribute of respect to the merits of his faithful apprentice, whose time having ex-
pired, he entered to the conmiand of a slave sliip, and made several voyages to
the coast of Africa in prosecution of that disgraceful traffic. How long he con-
tinued in this trade his biographers have not told us; but to his honour tliey have
stated that he felt disgusted with the employment, and at length '* confined his
services to the command of vessels engaged in a more reputable and legitimate
commerce." In the year 1773, the death of his brother in Virginia, without

27G PAUL JONES.

having left any children, ciHed him over to that country to look after thesetlle-
luenl of his aHairs, on uhith occasion, all liis transatlantic piedile tions being
revived, he resolved to uiliidraw from liio ilnngers and tlie vicissitudes of a sea-
faring life, to Sftllu in the colony, and to devote the remainder of liis dajs to
liie peaceful pursuits of rural iixluslry and philosophic retirement.

There is nothing more curious in the history of the human mind tlian that
satiety and languor which so frequently come over the most active spirits,
(."owley often had thoughts of burying iiimself in the woods of America, \\here
lie fancied lie would be happy, in seclusion Irom all intercourse with the busy
and bustling portions of society : Cromwell, witii all his unconijuerable daring
and unquenchable activity — and Hambdeii, one of the brightest, tlie boldest, and
the most disinterested spirits that have adorned any age or country, despairing
of the slate of political atlairs in their native land, sought to escape their uneasy
sensations, and to secure religious peace and happiness, by the same expedient.
Akin, perhaps, to these cases was that of Paul Jones, whose mind seems from the
first to have been replete ^vith lofiy aspirations, fitting him for gi-eatness, uhile
liis connexions in his own country were of a nature to prevent his ever gratify-
ing them. AVe can easily conceive tliis bold and entliusiaslic man sensible of
the superiority of his powers above those of most other men, but fretting at the
cold obstructions -which were put before him, by the rules and habits of society
ill his own country, and also perhaps at the notoriety of his ignoble origin ; and
therefore preferring to lose himself in an American forest, where, if he did not
gain any distinction, lie would not at least be esteemed as lower than his per-
sonal merit warranted. Had the colonies been in a state of tranquillity, Jones
would probably have spent the remainder of his days as a simple colonist, or
peiha[ps gone back to sea, to escape the monotony of a life but little suited to
his faculties. The country, however, Avas now in a state of high effervescence,
i\iiich was every day increasing-, and which called forth the energies, such as
they were, of every individual among them, either on tlie one side or the other,
(aeat dissatisfaction had for a long period been prevalent respecting the mea-
Bures of the Ijriiish government in relerence to the colonies, and in the specu-
k.tions of the <;olonists with regard to the steps necessary to be taken for coun-
teracting these measures, Jones found the tedium of his retirement wonderfully
relieved. Open resibtaiu;e was no sooner pi'oposed, than he found tliat he had
mistaken the natural bent of liis genius, which was nuich more turned towards
action than solitary speculation ; and when Congress, in the close of the year
1775, began to equip a naval force to assist in asserting American independence,
he stepped boldly forward to ofler his service. He was at once appointed to bo
first lieutenant aboard tlie Alfred, one of the only two ships belonging to the
Congress; and in that capacity hoisted with his own hands for the first time the
flag of independent Americn. In the course of a few months^ by liis activity
and success, he gained the entire confidence of the marine committee, and from
the hands of the president received a captain's commission. In the end of the
year 1777, he was sent to France, in command of the Kanger, a new sloop of
uar, with despatches containing an account of the victory obtained by the
colonists at yaratoga. As a reward for the important services lie had already
rendered to the Americans, it was ordered that he should be promoted to the
command of the Indian, a fine frigate built for the Congress at Amsterdam, the
ilangcr, at the same time, acting under his orders; but tlie American commis-
sioners at I'aris, from motives of policy, assigned llie Indian over to the king of
France. Captain Jones, of course, remained in command of llie Hanger, with
which he convoyed a fleet of merchantmen to Quiberon Bay, and tliere, from
the rrcnch commandant, received the first saluto that had ever been given

TAUL JONES.

277

to tlie American Ung, lliglily indignant at the resolution taken by the British
government, to treat every colonist ^vho supported Congress in their aims at in-
dependence as traitors, and emulous of the exploits of some British seamen on
the American coast, Jones soon after entered the Irish channel, and on the night
of tiie 23nd of April came to anchor in the Solway firtli, almost in siglit of
the trees Avhicii sheltered his native cottage. The place must have awakened
many strange associations ; but they «ere of no friendly import. A\ ith tliirly-
one vohniteers, he sailed in two row boats for the Englisli side of the futli,
with intent to burn the shipping (upwards of two hundred sail) in the harbour
of Whitehaven. This bold and hazardous project he had certainly executed, if
the re<;eding tide had not retarded his progi-ess so much, that the day began to
dawn before he reached the shore ; as it \vas, he could scarcely have lailed had
he been seconded by his followers. The smaller of tlie boats he sent to the
north of the port, to set fire to the ships, whilst he himself passed southwards to
secure tlie fort. The morning was cold, and the sentinels, suspecting nothing
less than liie approacli of an enemy, Avere in the guard-room ; a circumstance of
which Jones knew well how to take advantage. Climbing up by the blioulders
of one of liis men, lie crept through one of the embrasures, and was promptly
followed by all his company. Making fast the door of the guard-ioom, he
spiked every gun on the fort, tiiirty-six in number, and, without having hurt a
single individual, proceeded to join the party who had it in charge to burn the
ships. A false alarm had deterred this party from executing their orders,
Jones, however, proceeded to fire the ships within his reach ; but the inhabitants
V ere by this time alarmed, and hasting to the protection of tiie port ; and he
■was compelled with his small party to retreat, after having set fire to three ships,
one of wliich only was totally destroyed. This achievement cannot be denied the
praise of singular daring ; yet there is something so unnatural in making war
upon one's native land, and especially one's native city, improving all the know-
ledge and the associations of early years for the purposes of destruction, that
every generous mind revolts at the idea, and cannot award the praise which, it
may be admitted, would otherwise be due to the undertaking. But this attempt
was only the first exploit which signalized the 22nd of April. Early in the fore-
noon, he landed witli a part of his crew at St Mary's Isle, on the Galloway
coast, the beautiful residen<:e of the earl of Selkirk, whom he lioped to have sur-
prised, and carried off a prisoner to America, that he might serve as a hostage
for the security of such of the colonists as should fall into the hands of the Bri-
tish. Happily for his lordship, he was not at home, and Jones, as he approached
the liouse, and learned that there were only ladies within it, wished to return to
his ship without farther procedure ; but his followers had no such exalted ideas.
In venturing upon an undertaking so hazardous, they were influenced by the
hope of plunder, Avhich, being now in view, they refused to relinquish. He
succeeded, however, so far, that they agreed to offer no violence to any one, that
they should not enter tlie house, and that the oflicers, havi)ig made their demand,
should accept of what might be put into their hands without further inquiry.
Tliese stipulations were punctually fulfilled ; but the inmates of the house were
not aware of them, and, terrified for their lives, were glad to redeem tiiem by
delivering up the whole family plate, which was carried oft" in triumph by the
sailors, who neitlier understood nor cared for the discredit, which it brought upon
their intrepid commander and the cause they served. The circumstance was,
as he probably foresaw, improved with gi-eat effect to his disadvantage. To
heighten the odium of the affair, it was industriously but most falsely given out
that the father of Jones had been gardener to tlie earl of Selkirk, and that it
was from this circumstance he had learned all the localities of the estate, Avhich

I !i

PAUL JONES.

enabled him to cotuiuit the robbei^ without danger eithei* to himself or his
marauding crew. Not one of Jones's relations had ever been in the service of
lord Selkirk; and he showed tliat lie had a spirit far above the meanness im-
puted to him, by buying tiie whole of the articles from the captors, wlio claimed
them as tlieir right by the usages of war, and, at a subsequent period, restoring
tliem, in tiieir original packages, to tlie noble owner. In a correspondence
which was carried on between Jones and lady Selkirk relative to the atiair, her
ladyship most gratefully acknowledged the generosity and the integrity of his
character.

But these exploits on shore did not exhaust the good fortune of Jones. Tiie
very next day, in the bay of Carrick Fergus, he fell in with the Drake, a king's
ship of twenty guns, and after a desperate resistance, in Avhich the English cap-
tain and his first lieutenant were both killed, made her his prize, with which,
and another large ship, he returned to Brest, after an absence of twenty-eight
days. In this short period, besides destroying a number of valuable ships, ho
had thrown the coasts both of Scotland and Ireland into the deepest consterna-
tion. This cruise, short as it was, occasioned the British government immense
sums of money for the fortification of harbours, and it wns the ostensible cause
of embodying the Irish volunteers, a measure of which we have yet fult only a
few of the consequences.

Notwitlistanding the brilliant success that had attended his exertions, Jones
was now subjected to no small degree of mortification. As a token of good-will
to the United States, the French ministry had promised to furnish him with a
ship, aboard of which he was to hoist tlie American flag ; but after nmltiplied
applications, and a number of written memorials, the engagement seemed to be
forgotten or disregarded. Wearied out with the delays and apologies which he
was daily receiving, Jones set out for Paris to make his application to tlie
French ministry in person, in consequence of which he obtained the command
of the Duras, a ship of forty guns, the name of which, in compliment to a saying
of poor Richard, "If you would have your business done, come yourself," he
changed to Le don. liomme Richard. In this vessel, badly manned and poorly
furnished, Jones sailed with a little squadron, to which he acted as commodore.
This squadron consisted of the Alliance, of thirty-six guns, the I'alias of thirty-
two, the Serf of eighteen, the Vengeance of twelve, and two privateers, who
were promised their share of the prizes that might bo made. Having tiiken n
number of prizes, the Alliance, the Serf, and the privateers deserted him, in
order to pursue their own plans singly. The com*age and skill of the commo-
dore, ho^vever, did not forsake him, and after again alarming the coasts of
Ireland, he sailed by the North Sea round to Leith, in the roads of which he
appeared \vilh his own ship, the Ricliard, accompanied by the Fallas and the
Vengeance, in tlie month of September, evidently determined to seize upon tlie
guard ship and two cutters that lay in the roads, and to lay Leith and perhaps
the city of Edinburgh under contribution. The wind, however, which ^vas fair
when he made his appearance, shifted during the night, and the next day he
continued working up the firth with great labour and slow progress. Wliile he
was thus employed, a boat from the shore, sent out by an official character, who
mistook his ships for British, inlormed Jones that he was greatly afraid of a
visit from that desperate buccaneer Paul Jones, and begging that lie would sen(f
him some powder and shot. Highly amused with his mistake, the good-
humoured republican sent him a barrel of gunpowder, with a civil answer to
quiet his fears, and a modest apology for not including shot in the present he
had sent liim. In the mean time he relaxed nothing in his exertions to come at
the ships of war in the roads, and other two tacks Avould have laid him alonn--

PAUL JONES. 279

side of them, wlien a sudden gale of uiiid sweeping down the firth sunk one of
his prizes, and carried his squadron irresistibly out to sea. The captains of the
Pallas and Vengeance nere so much dejected at this accident, that they could
not be prevailed upon to renew the atteuipt. His little squadron sh(»rliy altei
fell in uilh the homeward-bound Baltic fleet, under convoy of his mnjesly's ships
the Serapis and the Countess of Scarborough. A desperate enga^'cment ec-
Eucd, in which Jones disjilayed the most consummate skill, dauntless intrepidity,
and perfect presence of mind. Tiie battle was obstinately contested ; but
the Countess of Scarborough Avas at last obliged to strike to the Pallas, and
the Serapis to the Bon Homme Richard, which was so sliattered in the action,
that next morning, after all hands had left her, she went to the bottom.
Though the Serapis was nearly in the same condition, Jones hoisted his flag
aboard of her, and under jury masts, with some difficulty, steered her along with
his other prizes into the Texel. lie now used all his inlluence ^vith the French
court to liave his prisoners exchanged against American prisoners in England,
in which he had the pleasure of succeeding to the utmost of his wisiies, receiving,
in a sliort time after, a letter from Benjamin Franklin, the Ameriran minister
at Paris, which informed him, " that he (Franklin) had just completed the noble
work, which he (Jones) had so nobly begun, by giving liberty to all the Ameri- ■
cans that tiien languished in England." The French andiassador at the Hague
was at the same time oi-dered to communicate to commodore Jones, the high
sense which his majesty, the king of France, entertained of his merits, and the
pei-sonal esteem he boi"e for his character, and, especially, for his disinterested
humanity.

Jones now took the command of the Alliance, the captain of which had been
summoned to Paris to answer for his insubordination, in deserting the commo-
dore on the coast of Ireland ; but his situation was now perilous in the extreme.
Suunnoned to deliver him up to the vengeance of the English government as a
piuite and a rebel, the Dutch were constrained to order him out to sea, whei-e
an English squadron was watching to intercept him. From this dilemma he
could have been saved by accepting of a commission from the king of France,
>vhose ambassador earnestly pressed him to adopt that alternative ; but he thought
himself bound in honour to decline the offer, and determined, at whatevei'
liazarJ, to abide by and support the flag of the country which he had, upon the
matuiest reflection, adopted. " Fortune favours the brave " is a maxim Ave see
every day exemplified. Jones weighed anchor and escaped througji the straits
of Dover, almost under the eyes of the English men-of-war, all of Avhich had
sti'ict orders to secure him, and were, besides, inflamed against him in a high
degree from the repeated defeats that British ships had sustained at his hands.

Towards the close of the year 1780, he sailed with important despatches for
America in the ship Ariel, and by the way meeting an English ship of twenty
guns, engaged her, and with his usual gallantry made her his prize. The
king of France had, previously to this, testified his approbation of Jones's ser-
vices, by presenting him with a superb gold-hilted sword; and a letter from the
French minister, 31. de Sartine, was now transmitted to the president of the
United States, requesting liberty " to decorate that brave ofticer with the cross
of the order of military merit." The letter was laid before Congress, and, a
law acceding to the proposal being passed on the 27th of February, he was for-
mally invested by the chevalier de la Luzerne, at a public fete given to the
members of that body. Congress, in the month of April following, on the
report of a committee, passed a vote of thanks to the chevalier John Paul Jones,
" for the zeal, prudence, and intrepidity, with which he had sustained the
honour of the American flag, for his bold and successful enterprizes to redeem

2S0 PAUL JOXKS.

from captivity those citizens of America who had fallen under the power of the
enemy, and in general for the good <;ondiict and eminent services by which he
Jiail ailtltd lustre to liis character and to the arms of America." No farther
oj)portiinity for distinguishing himself occurred during the war ; but, after its
<:on(;Uision, Congress, as an expression of gratitude, had a gold medal struck
witli appropriate devices to perpetuate the memory of iiis valour, and the singu-
lar services he had performed for the States.

In tlie year 17 87, the chevalier Jones, being charged with a mission to the
court of Denmark, sailed for that country in the month of November, and pass-
ing through Taris on his way, he was strongly solicited by the agents of IJussia
to tike the command of tlie Kussian ileet in the Black Sea. 'I'his he declined,
but he was scarce arrived at Copenhagen, when the empress Catharine, sent
him, by a special messenger, an urgent invitation to visit St Petersburg.
Afier what he had performed, it would have been strange if the chevalier Jones
had not felt some reluctance to enter into tlie service of Russia, where every
maxim by \vhich he had been guided during his exertions for liberty behoved
to be reversed, and where, instead of being directed by the united voice of an
intelligent people, he must regulate his conductr by the single will of a despot.
It is one of the greatest evils of despotism, that the despot, once establislied, has
ihe means of corrupting and enslaving even the most generous minds. The che-
valier Jones saw many reasons for declining to enter into the service of Catiia.
rine ; but, flattered by iier attention and kind ort'ei-s, he thought he could not
do less tlian to wait upon and thank her in person for her friendly intentions.
For this purpose he set out instantly from Copenhagen, by the way of Sweden,
but at Guslielham found the gulf of Bothnia blocked up by the ice. After
making several unsuccessful attempts to reach Finland by the islands, he con-
ceived a plan for effecting his progress by doubling the ice to the southward.
W itli this view he sailed from Ciushelham in a boat thirty feet long, followed
by a smaller one that miglit be hauled over the ice, but told none of those who
accompanied him what were his intentions. Having set out early in the mor-
ning, he hr.d by the evening got nearly opposite Stockholm, when, instead of
landing as ihe boatmen expected, he drew out a pair of pistols and ordered
them to proceed in the direction he had previously determined upon. Besis-
tance willi a man of the chevalier's character was probably judged by the simple
boatmen to be in vain ; and following his orders, with a fair wind they expected
to reach the coast of Finland by the morning. An impenetrable bar of ice,
however, defied all their efforts, nor from the state of the weather was it possible
for them to return. Their only resource was to sail for the gulf of Finland,
which they did, steering at night by a pocket compass, lighted by the lamp of
the ciicvalier's carriage, and in four days, having lost the smaller of their boats,
landed at Revel in Livonia. The chevalier hasted from Revel to St I'eters-
burg, where he met with a most gracious reception, and, unable any longei
to hdld out against the kind wishes of the empress, entered into her service,
without any stipulations but that he should not be at any time condemned with-
out being laard. Invested with the rank of rear-admiral, he proceeded without
delay to take the command of a fleet stationed at the Liman or mouth of the
Dnieper, destined to oppose the Turkish fleet under the capitan Pacha. He
hoisted iiis flag as commander of this fleet on the 2Gth of May, 17S8, on board
the Vlodimer, and wns supported by a ilotilla under the prince of Nassau, and
a numl)cr of land troops under prince Potemkin. Throughout this camjiaign,
though it produced little tliat is worthy of the notice of the historian, tlie cheva-
lier Jones had many opportunities of displaying his professional skill and the
singular intrepidity of his character; but mean jealousy and the malignant

caballing of heartless and narrow-minded courtiers, denied him the well-earned
jiraise that was due to his services. He Mas, however, on his return to St
Tetersburg, as an acknowledgment of his fidelity, invested witli tiie order o/
St Anne, and infonncd, that in a short time he would be called to perform a
part in services of nuich greater importance. lie had seen enough of the llus-
sians, however, and disgusted witlt the sordid sellishness and tiie low sensuality
that reigned in tiie court of Catharine, took leave of her dominions, in the
montli of August, 17S!). The I'emaiiider of his days he spent partly in Holland
and partly in France, devoting his leisure houi-s to the arrangement of his
allairs, and to the preparation of papers which might exhibit his character and
his services in their true light to posterity. He also made a large collection of
important documents relating to tiie public transactions in wliich he had been
engaged, which \vill be at some future day, it is to be hoped, given to enrich
tiie history of the important j.eriod in wiiich he lived. He \\i\s seized with
■water in the cliest, and died at Taris in the month of July, 1792. As the laws
relative to the interment of calvinists or heretics were not then abolished in
I'rance, application was made to tiie national assembly, which gave free liberty
for iiis being buried witli all public honours, and ordered a deputation of their
number to attend, one of whom pronounced an elegant eulogium upon his char-
racter over his grave. He left among his papers a copious memoir of his life
written with his own hand, which his friends, it has been said, had it in cunteni-
plation to publish. We cannot doubt but that its publication would add to the
history of that important era many valuable notices, and be hailed by the public
as a most valuable contribution to the general stock of literature. From the
brief sketch of his life which we have given, the reader Mill be at no loss to
appreciate the character of Paul Jones, which, in his own country, has been
misrepresented by prejudice. 'I'hat he was a naval genius of the first order, his
actions abundantly demonstrated. He was the man \\ho first flung upon the
winds the flag of the United States ; and he graced it by a succession of victories,
all of which were relatively of the most splendid character. Unlike the vaunted
achievements of single ships belonging to the same nation in the late war, every
one of which possessed a vast superiority of men and of metal, Jones accomplished
his purposes with means, to all appearance, inadequate to the end, his ships
being often half rotten, only half provided in necessaries, and his sailors of the
most motley description. In every battle which he fought, superior skill and
bravery were the evident sources of victory. Nor can the- circumstance which
has been so often urged against him, that of turning hb arm. against his native
country, detract, in the smallest degree, from his merit. He was, be it remem-
bered, at the commencement of the war, a regular colonist of America, and was,
therefore, no more liable to this charge, than was any other individual out of all
the thousands who at first took up arms against Great Britain, and eventually
coriBtituted the American republic. Less, however, can be said, for his entering
the service of Russia, vrhich was discreditable to his generosity and love of
freedom.

K

KAY, John, long well-known in Edinburgh as a miniature-painter and cari-
caturist, and almost the only artist of the latter kind produced in Scotland, was
born in April, 1742, at a place called Gibraltar, near Dalkeith. His father,
and an uncle named Norm.in, Avere both stone-masons, and he was himself des-

283

JOHN KAY.

lined to follow the same profession. Having lost his father, however, in his
eio^hlh year, this scheme «as given up, and he ^^a3 placed with some relations
of his mother in Leith, who, it appears, treated the poor orphan boy with great
cruelty — almost to the hazard of iiis lite. He also was oftener tliaii once, while
in this situation, in danger of drowning in Leith harbour.

At tlie age of thirteen, he was placed by his mother with a barber in Dal-
keith, whom he served for six yeai-s ; he tlien set up in Edinburgh, having
first paid about forty pounds to the society of surgeon-barbers for the freedom of
the corporation, and soon after married a young woman, by whom he bad eleven
children, all of whom long predeceased himself. The trade of a barber was
then more lucrative, and consequently more dignified than latterly. Kay had
good employment in dressing the wigs, and trimming the heads, of a certain
number of gentlemen every morning, all of whom paid him a certain annual
sum (generally about four guineas,) for his ti'ouble. Among his customer's was a
fine specimen of tlie old Jacobite country gentleman, 3Ir Nisbet of Diiieton, who
took a fancy for liim, and frequently invited Lim to the country, to the great
injury of his business. Kay had, even in bis boyhood, when residing in Leitli,
manifested a turn for sketching familiar objects, such as horses, dogs, ships, &c.,
using chalk or coal, and tracing his delineations on such pieces of dead wall as
presented a large enough ground. Now and then, in later life, he made some
attempts in miniatures and pencil sketches. It may easily be conceived that,
finding himself possessed of this talent, and encouraged by a man of rank in
developing it, he felt some difficulty in restraining himself to the humble
cai'eer which destiny seemed to have marked out for him. At Mr Kisbet's
country-scat, he for the first time found proper opportunities and proper materials
for his favourite study ; while any compunctious visitings he might feel as to the
danger to which he thus exposed the permanent livelihood of himself and family,
were laid to rest by the kindness of his patron, who, in the meantime, sent money
to support his domestic establishment in Edinburgh, and promised speedily to
obtain for him some permanent provision, which should render him independent
of business. Unfortunately, in 17 S2, IMr Nisbet died, without having executed
his kind intention ; and 3Ir Kay was left in somewliat a^\kAvard circumstances,
having, as it were, fallen to the ground between certainty and hope. The heir,
however, so far repaired the omission of his predecessor, as to settle an annuity
of twenty pounds upon Kay for life.

He now began eUcclually to follow out his bent for limning and etching, and,
after a few trials, abandoned his trade as a barber. In 1784., he published his
first caricature, Avhich represented a half-ci'azed Jacobite gentleman, named laird
Kobertson, who was wont to amuse the citizens of Edinburgh by cutting caricatured
resemblances of public cliaraclers, which he fixed on the head of his stick, and
whose figure was perfectly kno\vn to all the inhabitants. The portrait, accord-
ingly, excited some attention, and the author was induced to attempt others.
The style assumed by 3Ir Kay was the stippled or dotted style, and nothing
could equal the I'elicity of the likeness. From that time forward, till he was about
eighty years of age, this untutored son of genius pursued his vocation, taldng off,
one after another, the whole of the public and eccentric persons who appeared
in the Scottish capital, and occasionally caricaturing any jocular incident that
happened to attract attention. To speak of his portraits as caricatures is doing
them signal injustice. They were the most exact and faithful likenesses that
could have been represented by any mode of ;irt. He drew the man as he
walked tlic street every day : liis gait, his costume, every peculiarity of his
appearance, done to a point, and no defect perceptible except the stiffness of the
figures. Indeed, he may be said to have rather resembled one of the prosopo-

JOHN KAY. 283

graphuses or apographs of modern times, than a living artist trusting to Iiis eye
and liand. Hence, notliing- can be more valuable in the way of engraved por-
traits, tlian his representations of the distinguished men uho adorned Edinburgh
in the latter part of the eighteenth century — the Blairs, the Smiths, and the
Robertsons. It was only in certain instances tliat his productions could be con-
sidered as caricatures, namely, in those combinations by wliicli he meant to bur-
lesque any ridiculous public transaction : and even here, his likenesses displayed
all his usual correctness. During a considerable part of his career, ]\Ir Kay was
a professed miniature painter, and executed some specimens whicli, for delicacy and
finish, would surprise such individuals as have only been accustomed to inspect
his published etchings. It is said, that his only fault in this capacity, was a rigid
and unbending adherence to likeness — a total want of the courtly system prac-
tised, in so eminent a degree, by Lawrence and other fashionable painters.
Once, it is related, he was " trysted" with an exceedingly ill-looking man, much
pimpled, ^vho, to add to the distresses of the artist, came accompanied by a fair
nymph to whom he was about to be married. Honest Kay did all he could in
favour of this gentleman, so far as omitting the ravages of bacchanalianism would
go ; but still he could not satisfy his customer, who earnestly appealed to his
inamoi'ata as to the injustice which he conceived to be done to him, and the
necessity of improving the likeness, for so he termed the flattery which he con-
ceived to be necessary. Quite tired at length Avith this literally ugly customer,
and greatly incensed, the miniaturist exclaimed, with an execration, that he
would " paint every plook in the puppy's-face : would that please him !" It is
needless to remark, that in this, as in other instances, Mr Kay lost by his
unbending accuracy of delineation.

During almost the whole of his career as an artist, Mr Kay had a small print-
shop in the Parliament Square, the window of which was usually stuck full of his
px'oductions. He etched in all nearly nine hundred plntes, forming a complete
record of the public characters, of every grade and kind, including many dis-
tinguished strangers, who made a figure in Edinburgh for nearly half a century.
It may be safely affirmed, that no city in the empire can boast of so curious a
chronicle. From the first to the last, there is a remarkable similarity in his
style. After forty years' experience, he was just as deficient in grouping, and
other acquired gifts in the art, as when he first began to use the graver. It
Avould almost appear as if natui'e had designed him for that peculiar style alone,
in which he so much excelled all othermen, and had denied him every common
effect of his art, Avhich other men generally attain with ease.

In a profile of himself, executed about the year 17 85, Mr Kay appears with
a handsome aquiline countenance, of much delicacy and ingenuity of expres-
sion. In his latter days, when the writer of this notice first saw him, he was a
slender but straight old man, of middle size, and usually dressed in a garb of
antique cut ; of simple habits, and quiet, unassuming manners. His head was of
a singular structure, presenting a very remarkable protuberance in tlie forehead,
where phrenologists, we believe, place the organs of observation : in Kay, tlie
profile of this feature formed the arc of a perfect circle, beginning under the
hair, and terminating at the root of the nose. According to tlie information of
his widow, (a second spouse, whom he married in 1787,) he cared for, and could
settle at no employment, except that of etching likenesses. He would suddenly
quit his lucrative employment in miniature-drawing, in order to commit
some freak of his fancy to copper, from wln"ch, perhaps, no profit was to be
hoped for. It was tlie conviction of this lady, that, if he had devoted himself to
the more pi-oductive art, he would soon liave acquired a competency.

Mr Kay died in liis house in the High Street of Edinburgli, some time in tlie

284

JAMES KEILL.— JOHN KEILL.

year 1S30. His wife survived him till 1835. After her dcatb, the copper-plates
of liis works were purchased by Mr Hugh Paton, Edinburgh, wlio republished
them in two quarto volumes, with biographical sketches, under the title of
"Kny's Edinburgh Portraits." Tlie work forms a collection altogether unique,
and possesses great general as well as local interest, even in a generation com-
paratively unacquainted with the subjects of the prints.

KEILL, James, a physician and philosopher of eminence, the younger bro-
ther of the celebrated person whose memoir follows this in alphabetical order,
was born in Scotland, on the 27th of 3Iarch, llJ73. lie received iiis early edu-
cation in Edinburgh, afterwards studying the sciences and languages at Leydcii
and other continental universities. On his return to Britain, he applied himself
assiduously to the acquisition of a knowledge of anatomy, studying the science
practically, by constant attendance at the dissecting rooms. Having accustomed
iiimself to deliver his opinions on anatomy privately to his friends, he at last
undertook public tuition, and delivered, with considerable applause, lectures
on anatomy, at Oxford and Cambridge, by the latter of which universities he
was presented witli the degree of doctor of medicine. In 1698, he translated
from the French, Lemery's Course of Chemistry, and soon after publislied in the
Philosophical Transactions " An account of the death and dissection of John
Bayles of Northampton, reputed to have been one hundred and thirty years old.'"
To No. 30 1 of the same journal, he gave " De viribiis cordis epistola." In 1703,
he published " An account of animal secretion, tiie quantity of blood in the
human bodv, and muscular motion." On the subject of animal secretion, and
the manner in which the fluids of the animal body are separated from the blood,
he undertakes to show: 1. How they are formed in the blood before they come
to the place appointed for secretion ; 2. In what manner they are separated
from the blood by the glands. Upon the former head he shoMS, that the blood
consists of a simple fluid, in which swim corpuscles of varions figures and mag-
nitudes, and endued with ditlerent degrees of attractive force. Hence he con-
cludes, that of such particles as the blood consists of, must the fluids be com-
posed, \vhich are drawn from it. This he proceeds to show to be not only pos-
sible, but actually so in several secretions. I'rom this principle, that the blood
consists of corpuscles of various figures and magnitudes, and endued with various
de^ees of atti-a<-.tive power, &:<•., he attempts to show the force of the air upon
the blood, in breathing, in order to demonstrate that by the pressure of the air,
the cohesion of the globules of the blood is dissolved. Afier this, he shows how
the union of the attractive particles is hindered near the heart, and that tiie
particles which uinte first, after the blood is thro^^n out of the great artery,
must ba such as have the strongest attractive force ; and that such as have the
least, nmst unite last; and all the intermediate ones according to their respective
attractive power."- Besides tliis work, Keill published " Anatomy of the Human
Body," for the use of his pupils, and in 1717, " Iissays on several parts of
the Human Economy." He appears to have given up public tuition, and some
time previously to the publication of his last work, to have established himself as
a practising physician at Northampton, where he gained considerable fortune and
reputation, and remained till his death, which took place in July IG, 1719,
from a cancer in his mouth. He was buried in the church of Ft <iiles, ^\here
his brother John, to ^vllom he left his property, erected a handsome monument
to his memory.

KEILL, John, an eminent mathematician an<l natural philosopher, the elder
brother of the preceding, was born in Edinburgh, on the 1st of Decendier,

' Phil. Trans., xxv. 2, 247.
* jVIartin's Biogmiiliia Pliilosopliica, 460.

JOHN KEILL. 285

167 1.' He received the rudiments of education in the schools of his native
city, and remained at the Edinbiirgli university until he mjis enabled to take
ij tiie deoree of master of arts. He early displayed a genius and predilection for

I j mathematics, and Jiad the good fortune to study the science, along with the

I I Newlonian system of philosophy, under Dr (Gregory. \Mien, in the year loni,
|! Gregory went to try his fortune in England, Keill followed him, and contrived

I along with iiim to find admission to Oxford, \\here he held one of the Scottish
j exhibitions in Haliol college. Keill made his fust appearance before tlie scien-
i tifu; world in his " Examination of Dr Burnet's Tlieory of the Kartii, together
I] witli some remarks on Mr Whiston's new Theory of the Earth," published at
1 Oxford in the year 1698. Any " Theory of the Earth," or account of its for-
mation and state, in anticipation of the discovery of facts to support it, always
I formed a fruitful subject of debate ; but Burnet's Theory afforded more ample
j j field for censure than any other which pretended to support from the enlightened
j doctrines of modern philosophy. The grand outlines of his theory were of
1 1 tliemselves sufficiently imaginative, and their efl'ect Avns increased by the curious
I j speculations with which lie filled up the minor details of his edifice. He sup-
{ poses the earth to have been originally a heterogeneous mass of fluid matter, of
J which the heavier portions fell to the centre, forming there a dense body, sur-
j rounded and coated by lighter bodies, while the water — the lightest of all the
I j heterogeneous mass, remained on the outside of the whole. The air and other
celestial fluids floated round this body : while between it and the water was
i gradually formed a coat of unctuous or oily matter, higher than water. Upon
this unctuous coat, certain impure particles whicli had at first been mingled with
i the air, descended, and floating about covered the surface, forming a shell
I over the water, which becauie the crust of the earth. The crust thus formed was
level and uniform, without hill or vale; so it remained for about sixteen cen-
turies, until the heat of the sun having cracked it in divers places, the water
rushed forth, causing the general deluge. This water found, however, a means
of partially subsiding, betwixt the broken masses of the crust, and thus leaving
the globe in the state of ocean, hill, and valley.

Keill, who, besides being a man of accurate science, was a pei'son of clear
good sense and critical acumen, saw clearly the evil done to science, by the ad-
mission of suppositions which have a fully greater chance of being wrong than
of being right, ■while the richness of the doctor's imagination, and the poetic
beauty of his language and illustration, did not protect his principles from a
subjection to the strict rules of logic. Keill's book is full of the clear argumenta-
tion of a man who is rather formed to correct and check the discoveries of others,
than to allow his invention to stray so far as to make any of his own. He occa-
sionally condescends to use demonstration, while, well knowing that there may be
positions against which the gravity of an argument is misapplied, he makes very
frequent use of sarcasm, a power of which he is an accomplished and apt hand-
ler. 3Iost of the vigour of the attack is derived from the manner in Avlilch the
dlfl'erent parts of the theory are found inconsistent with each other, without
any very extensive reference to other authority. " After this fashion," says
Keill, after giving an outline of Burnet's first formation of the earth, " has the
theorist formed his antediluvian habitable world, which doth not much dlfler
from the Cartesian method of making the earth : only Des Cartes, being some-
what wiser tlian the theorist, would not allow the outward crust, within whose
bowels the waters were shut up, to be a habitable earth, knowing well that
neither man nor beast could live long without water. But he made the crust
iirst be broken, and the waters flow out, before he placed any inhabitants on it.
1 ^Tallin's Biographia Philosophica, 457.

286 JOHN KEILL.

Another small ditlerence betwixt the two hypotheses is, that Monsieur Des Cartes
never tliought of making the exterior orb of oily liquids, which the theorist as-
serts to be absolutely necessary towards the formation of the crust ; for if it
were not, says he, for the oily liquor which swims upon the surface of the abyss,
the particles of cartii which fell through tlie air had sunk to the bottom, and
had never formed the exterior orb of earth. 15ut notwithstanding this, I be-
lieve it may be easily made evident (though neither of these systems is true),
that the tlieorist's hypothesis is the worse of the t^vo, Avhich I will prove from
his o^vn concessions : for he has already owned that the oily liquor is much
lighter than the watery orb. He has mentioned also, that the terrestrial par-
ticles when falling fioni the air, if the orb were only water, would sink to the
bottom ; and therefore these particles nmst be heavier than water. From thence
I tliink it does necessarily follow, that these terrestrial particles must also
be heavier than the oily fluid, which is lighter than water, and therefore
they will more easily descend through it than they did through water, it
being well known that there are several bodies which will swim in water, but
sink in oil.""

Proceeding on such positions, Keill destroys what has been raised by liis
adversary, wisely substituting nothing in its stead, except what experiment and
demonstration support ; the general aim of the principles he espouses being,
that, excepting in so far as we know by experiment the operation of nature, we
must take the cosmogony of the earth, either literally as we find it laid down
in holy writ, or, admitting our inability to penetrate into its secrets, be content
(vith Avhat is aflbrded us by experience, demonstration, and rational or certain
deduction. Whiston, in his " New Theory of the liarth, from its original to
the consummation of all things," maintained, that- the Mosaic account of the
creation did not give a philosophical account of the formation of the universe,
but that it was merely intended, in the most simple and intelligible manner, to
give a history of the formation of the globe we inhabit; that before being
brought into existence as an inhabited world, it had been a comet, which being
subject to perpetual reverses from heat to cold, became by the alternate congeal-
ing and melting of its surface, covered with a coat of heterogeneous matter or a
chaos, within which the solid nucleus formed a great burning globe. This
great mass of matter, as the eccentricities of its orbit decreased, became more
nearly circular, and the materials ranging themselves according to their gravi-
ties, assumed at the period of the "creation " the forms of earth, water, and air.
If this theory does not possess any recommendation to our belief superior to
that claimed by Burnet, its author had at least the art, to found a greater num-
ber of his conclusions on experiments, and to deduce others in a less imagina-
tive manner. Keill treats this adversary Avith more respect than he affords to
the theoretic Burnet, seldom proving his positions " impossible," and generally
contenting himself with being sceptical ; he allows that the author " lias made
gieater discoveries, and proceeded on more philosophi(;al principles than all the
theorists before him have done."

Keill's small work is often referred to as authority by geologists and natural
philosophers ; it contains many experimental calculations, among \vhich is that
estimate of the depth of the sea, on which Breislak in later times founded his
celebrated calculation, that there never could have beeia a sufficient quantity of
water in and about our globe to have kept the matter of it at any time in solu-
tion. It was considered by many, that Keill had used the venerable doctor
Burnet, much his elder in years, a scholar, and a man esteemed for his private
virtues, with too much asperity and unbecoming sarcasm. It appears that the
' Examination, 37, 38.

JOHN KEILL. 287

respective theorists answered the attack, although in what manner we have been
unable to discover.

In 1699, Keill published a rejoinder, entitled " An Examination of the Re-
flections on tlie Theory of the Earth, together witli a defence of the RemarRs on
Mr Whiston's New Theory." The Defence of the Theory appeal's by no meai-s
to have infused into Keill a greater spirit of politeness. He proceeds with the
impatience of a man of sense and knowledge interrupted, terminating with an
advice to Burnet to study " numbers and magnitude, astronomy and statics ;
that,'' lie continues, " lie may be the better able to understand the force of my
arguments against his Theory, after which I doubt not but that he will easily
perceive its eiTors, and have the ingenuity to acknowledge them. Rut till then,
all farther disputation between him and nie must needs be vain and frivolous,
since true reasoning on natui-al philosophy depends on such principles as are
demonstrated in those sciences, the knoAvledge of which he hns not yet at-
tained." ^ To his other opponent, Whiston, Keill has in this work, probably owing
to the manner in which he was answered, forgot his former courtesy, treating
him with no more deference than he has used toward Burnet.

In 1700, Dr Thomas i>lillington, Sedelian professor of natural philosophy in
Oxford, on his appointment as physician in ordinary to the king, substituted
Keill as his assistant, to read his public lectures ; and the term for enjoying the
Scottish exhibition at Baliol college then expiring, he accepted an invitation
from Dr Aldrich, dean of Christ's church, to x-eside there. As his master
Gregory was the first who introduced the Newtonian philosophy to the universi-
ties, Keill himself possesses the reputation of having been the first to demon-
strate its principles on experiment ; a task he is said to have performed through
machinery of his own invention, but of what description, or to what extent he
proceeded in his proofs, we are not informed.

In 1701, Keill published his "Introductio ad Veram Physicam," a useful
and popular treatise on the Newtonian Philosophy. It is considered as an ex-
cellent introduction to Sir Isaac Newton's Principia, and has frequently been
reprinted in England, and in a French translation. About the year 1708,
Keill was chosen a fellow of the Royal Society, and after his admission he pub-
lished in the Philosophical Transactions a pretty lengthy paper, " in which the
laws of attraction, and other principles of physic are shown." * At this period,
the scientific world became disturbed by the dispute which had assumed the as-
pect of a national question, whether Leibnitz formed his idea of the doctrine of
fluxions from some unpublished discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, and Avhich of
these two gTeat men could properly be considered the inventor of that sublime
addition to the power of the human intellect In the Acta Eruditorum published
at Leipsic, it was maintained that Leibnitz was the sole inventor, all right on
the part of Newton being denied. To this Keill answered in a paper Mhicli he
communicated to the Royal Society, defending his friend without much regard
to the accusations which he brought against his opponent.

In 1711, Leibnitz complained to the Royal Society, that Keill had accused
him of obtaining and publishing his knowledge in a manner not reputable to a
philosopher, or even exactly consistent with honesty ; he appealed to Sir Isaac
hnnself as a witness of his integi'ity, and required that Keill should publicly
disavow the ofl'ensive construction which might be applicable to his words. Tlie
Royal Society being appealed to as philosophical judges in the matter, appointed
a committee to examine the papers and documents connected with the dispute,

' Examination of the Reflections, 160.

* Epistola ad clar: Vir: Gulielmum Cockbuni, Medicina; Doctorcm' — in qua Legis At-
tractionjs Aliaque Physicse Principia traduntur.i — Phil. Trans., xxvi. 97.

288 JOHN KEILIi.

\>lit) i\'n\ not liiid il (lillitMiIl to produce a report ratlier uiifavouraLlc to the coii-
tiiiciital jdiilosojilier, bearing " That 3Ir Leibnitz was in London in 1673, and
kept a correspondence A\ilh Mr Collins, by means of 31r Oidenburgh, till Sep-
tember, llJ7(3, when he returned from i'aris to Hanover, by Avay of London and
Amsterdam ; that it did not apjicar that 3L Leibnitz knew anything of the dif-
ferential calculus before his letter of the 21st June, 1G77, which was a year af-
ter a r,o])y of a letter \\rote by Sir Isaac Newton, in the year 1G72, had been
sent to I'aris to be connnunicated to him, and about four years after 3!r Col-
lins began to communicate that letter to his correspondents ; \\herein the method
effluxions was sufticienlly explained to let a man of his sagacity into the whole
matter: and that Sir 1. Newton liad even invented his method before the year
166'J, and of consequence fifteen years before IMr Leibnitz had given anything
on tlie subject in the Lcipsic acts ;" from which train of circumstances they con-
cluded that Keill was justified in his imputations. The censure of t!\e society,
and the papers connected >vith it, were published apart fx-om the Transactions in
1712, under the title " Connaercium Lpistolicuni de Analysi Froniota." For
some time the philosopher appears not to have answered this array against
him, until the Abbe Conti, in tlie year 171G, addressed him,^ calling on him,
if lie did not choose to answer Keill, at least to vindicate himself from the
non-admission of his claim on the part of Newton ;^ and he just commenced
the woi'k of vindication at a period when death prevented him from com-
pleting it

In tiie year 1709, Keill was appointed treasurer to tlie I'alatints, and in
performance of iiis duties, attended them in their passage to New England. On
liis return in 1710, he was appointed successor to Dr Caswell, Savilian professor
of astronomy at Oxford. At this period, he again entered the field of contro-
Tcrsy, in support of his friend Sir Isaac Newton, wliose philosopliy had been
attacked on the foundation of Des Cartes's theory of a plenum ; and he published
in the riiilosophical Transactions for 1713, a communication to the society, on
the rarity of matter and the tenuity of its composition.'' In this controversy,
he was, however, interrupted by his appointment to the situation of decypherer
to the (jueen, and he was soon afterwards presented A\itli the degree of doctor of
medicine, by the university of Oxford. About this period we find Iiim gratefully
remembered by that unfortunate scholar Simon Oakley, for having permitted
Iiini the use of the Savilian study.'

Keill, in the year 1717, took to himself a wife. 'Ihe name of the lady who
made him the happiest of men, lias not been preserved ; but it is said he married
her " for lier singular accomplishments." In the Gentleman's INIagazine for
1739, we find a curious lloratian ode, addressed to Keill by the celebrated
Anthony Alsop ; its period of publication is some years after the deatli of both
the j)artics, and there is no comment alluding to the date of its composition ;
but the circumstances mentioned show it to be a congratulatory epistle to Keill
on ids marriage. The ode is extremely spirited and not destitute of elegance ;
but whether from other motives, or the anxiety of tlie author to reach the
familiar vivacity of the Koman lyrist, he has treated his grave subject in a man-
ner which would not now be considered very worthy of a divine, or to convey
a pleasing compliment to a venerable professor. The subject was one of some
deli««cy to Alsop, who was then enjoying a species of banishment, the conse-
quence of a verdict obtained against him for breach of a contract of marriage ;

» rublibhed in the Phil. Trans., xxx. f»2i.

" Tluort'inata qua-dam infinilam niatiria^ divisibiliUitem spectaiitia, quae cjusdtm niiiiat(m
ct ttnucm compotitioiiem demoiistr.int, quorum ope plurima; in pliytica tollunlur diflkul-
tates. — P/iil. Traits., xxviii 6'2.

' Nichols's LiUiar\ Antcdotts.

GEORGE KEITH-ELPHINSTONE. 289

and whether from this circumstance, or his classical feelings, lie has dwelt on
the habits of his friend in a manner which would hardly fail to draw "damages"
from a modern jury.^ In 1718, Keill published " Introductio ad veram Astro-
nomiam, seu lectioncs AstronomicaB," a work ^vhich was reprinted in the year
1721, at which period, at the request of tlie duchess of Cliandos, he published
a translation of this work in Englisli, with emendations, under tiie title of " An
Introduction to the true Astronomy ; or, Astronomical Lectures, read in the
astronomical school of the university of Oxford." The year in Avhich he
accomplished these literary labours \vas the last of iiis lile ; during the summer
of 1721, he was seized with a violent fever, of wiii<;h he died in the month of
September, in the fiftieth year of his age. Besides the worl-cs we have men-
tioned, he published in 1715, an edition of Connnandinus's l*.uclid, witli addi-
tions.

KEITH-ELPHINSTOXE, Geokge, (viscount Keith, K. B. admiral of the Ked,
&:c.) a distinguished modern naval officer, \vas the fiftii son of Charles, tenth
lord Elphinstone, by tlie lady Clementina Fleming, only child of John, sixth
earl of Wigton, and niece and heir-of-line to the last earl IMarisclial. His lord-
ship was born on the 12lh January, 1716, at Elphinstone in East Lothian, the
ancient but now dismantled seat of the family of Elphinstone.

3Ir Elphinstone was early taught, by his remoteness from the chance of family
inheritance, to trust to his own exertions for the advancement of his fortune ;
and, having from his earliest years shown a predilection for the navy, he was,
at sixteen, ranked as a midshipman in the Gosport, commanded by captain Jer-
vis, afterwards earl St Vincent. The peace of 1763 soon put an end to his im-
mediate hopes of naval glory — though not before he had experienced much ad-
vantage from the tuition of iiis eminent commander. lie subsequently served in
the Juno, Lively, and Emerald frigates, and, entering on board an Indiaman,
conunanded by liis elder brother, the honourable W. Elpliinstone, made a voyage
to China, where, however, he suflered considerably from the climate. Notwith-
standing this latter circumstance, he did not scruple to malce a voyage to the
East Indies in 1767, under commodore Sir John Lindsay, by whom he was
promoted to a lieutenancy.

In 1772, lie was ailvanced to the rank of commander in the Scorpion of four-
teen guns. In the spring of 1775, he was made post-captain on board the 3Iarl-
borough, seventy-four guns, and soon after he obtained, first, the command of the
Pearl, and then of the Perseus frigate. In the Perseus, \vhich Avas remai'kable
as the first ship in liie British navy that was sheathed with copper, he made a
conspicuous figure, during the early years of the contest with America, as an ac-
tive and intrepid officer on the coast of that country, under lord Howe and ad-
miral Ai-buthnot. He was likewise often engaged in tiie servi(;es, in this unhap.
py Avar, where sea and land forces were united — in particular at tlie reduction
of Charleston, he conducted himself with such gallantry in the command of a de-
tachment of seamen, as to gain frequent and most honourable mention in the of-

^ Quidiii ego Iretor tibi gratulaii
Conjugi, conjux ? ego qui reliqui,
Connubi causa, patriam domumque ux-
or! us exul.

Quare age et totis licita; diebus,

Noctibus totis veneri litato :

Non opus sylvae, aut recubare subter

Tegmine fo;iii, &c.

Gent. Mail. ix. 324.

290 GEORGE KEITU-ELPIIINSTONK

ficial despatdies of general Sir Henry Clinton. The experience whicli he thus
ncquiretl was of great service to hlni long at'ierwards, when lie had a more pro-
minent and distinguished part to perform.

In 1780, having returned to luigland uith despatches from admiral Arbuth-
not, he was, on his arrival, appointed to the conuuand of the Warwick of fifty
guns. In the general election, which took place this year, he was chosen mem-
ber of parliament for Dumbartonshire, where his family possessed some in-
fluence ; and lie was one of those who met at the St Alban's tavern, to attempt
a reconciliation between Fox and Pit and the duke of Portland, with tlie
view of forming what was called "a broad- bottomed admiuistration." This
attempt, as is well known, proved unsuccessful. In the following year, as he
was cruising down the channel in his ship the Warwick, he encountered the
llotterdam, a Dutch ship of war, bearing fifty guns and three hundred men. The
manner in which he attacked this vessel and compelled her to strike — more es-
pecially as the engauement happened immediately after the Iris, a ship of equal
force, had been baffled in tlie attempt — gained captain Elphinstone much pub-
lic notice. Soon after this, he went out to the coast of America, \vhere he served
during the remainder of this disastrous war. While on this station, he, in com-
pany with other three British vessels of war, captured the French frigate L'Aigle
of forty guns, (twenty- four pounders, on tlie main deck,) and a crew of GOO men,
commanded by count de la Touche. Unfortunately for the captors, tlie enemy's
captain escaped to shore with the greater part of a large quantity of specie which
was on board the frigate. Two small casks and two boxes, however, of this valu-
able commodity fell into the hands of the victors. Along with the captain, there
also escaped several officers of high rank, and amongst them the commander-in-
chief of the French army in America. During his service on the American
coast, captain Elphinstone liad the honour to receive on board his ship as mid-
shipnian, prince William Henry, afterwards king William IV. ; a distinction the
more flattering, that the choice of the ship and officer ^vas made by his royal
highness himself. At the close of the war, when the subject of our memoir re-
turned to Britain, the prince of Wales appointed him for life to be secretary and
chamberlain of the principality of Wales.

In April, 17 87, captain Elphinstone married Jane, daughter of William Mer-
cer, Esq. of Aldie, in the county of Perth, a lady of large property, by whom
he had a daughter, afterwards viscountess Keith, and wife of count Flaliault,
aide-du-camp to the emperor Napoleon. In 1786, captain Elphinstone was chosen
to represent the shire of Stirling. The breaking out of the French war in 1793,
opened a new field for his enterprise and activity, and soon after the occun-ence
of that event lie was appointed to the Robust of seventy-four guns, and sailed
under the command of lord Hood to the jMediterranean, The object for which
the latter had been sent to these seas was to endeavour to etl'ect a co-operation
with the royalists in the south of France. In this his lordship so far succeeded,
that the sections of Toulon immediately proclaimed Louis XVII. under a pro-
mise of protection from the British fleet, and 31arseilles was only prevented from
taking a similar step by the approach of ai'epublican army. Before taking pos-
session of Toulon, which was part of the arrangement made with the French by
lord Hood, it was deemed proper to secure the forts wliich commanded the ships
in the roads, and for tiiis duty fifteen hundred men were landed under captain
Keilii, Avho, after elTeiling this service, was directed to assume the command of the
^vhole, as governor of fort 3Ialgue. In a few days afterwards general Carteaux
appeared, at the head of a detachment of the republican army, on the heights
near Toulon. Captain Elphinstone, placing himself at the head of a small body
of British and Spanish soldiers, instantly marched out to attack him, and after

GEORGE KEITH-ELPHINSTONE. 291

a gallant contest, completely routed the enemy, and captured his artillery, am-
nuiiiition, hoi*ses, and t«o stand of colours.

In tlie October following, captain Elpliinstone, with lord IMulgravc and rear-
admiral Gravina, at the head of a combined forfe of British, Spaniards, and
Neapolitans, obtained another complete victory over a deta<;Iinient of the IVench
army, consisting of nearly 2000 men, at the heights of Pharon, In this en-
gagement the enemy's loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners, was about 1500
men, Avhile on the part of tlie allied force it amounted only to eight killed,
seventy-t^vo uounded, two missing, and forty-eight prisoners.

These successes, however, ivere insufiuient to secui-e the British in possession
of Toulon. The Avhole force of tiie republicans became directed to their ex-
pulsion ; and, finding the place no longer tenable, it was determined, though
not without much reluctance, to ahandon it. In pursuance of lliis resolution, the
whole of the combined troops, to the number of 8000 men, togelher '.vith several
thousand royalists, were embarked on board the British ships early in the morn-
ing of the Stii December, Avilliout the loss of a single man. This important service
was superintended by captains Elpliinstone, Hallinel, and 3Iatthews ; and it was
principally owing to the care, attention, and vigorous exertions of these officers,
and more especially of tiie first, that it was so well and speedily accomplished.
Captain Elphinstone's efficient services on this and some of the immediately pre-
ceding occasions procured him high encomiums from hoth lord Hood and lieu-
tenant-general Dundas. On his return to England, which was in the year 1794,
he was invested with the knighthood of the Bath, having been previously pro-
moted to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and in July the same year was
made rear-admiral of the white, and in this capacity hoisted his flag on board
the Barfleur of ninety-eight guns, and in the year following, having shifted his flag
to the 3Ionarch, he sailed with a small squadron for the Cape of Good Kope, then
in the possession of the Dutch.

A war being about to commence between Great Britain and the Batavian re-
public, the object of admiral Elpliinstone was to reduce the settlements at the
Cape, a service whicli he effectually accomplished, besides capturing a squadron
ivhicli had been sent out for its defence. On the completion of this important
undertaking he returned to England, now advanced to the rank of vice-admiral ;
and the cabinet was so highly gratified with the great service he had rendered
his country by securing to it so valuable a colony as that of the Cape, that they
conferred upon him yet further honours.

In 1797, he was created an Irish peer by the title of baron Keith of Stone-
havcn-!Marischal, and shortly after assumed the command of a detachment of
the channel fleet. In this year also, lie was presented by the directors of the
East India company with a splendid sword, valued at 500 guineas, as an ac-
knowledgment for ills eminent services. In 179 8, lord Keith hoisted his flag
on board the Foudroyant, and sailed for the IMediterranean as second in com-
mand under the earl St Vincent, wlio was already there with a large fleet.

Early in the beginning of the following year, he was promoted to the rank of
vice-admiral of the red, and on the occasion of a temporary indisposition of earl
St Vin<!ent, assumed the entire command of the fleet. Here he continued em-
ployed in blockading the Spanish fleet till 3Iay, 1799, wlien he went in pursuit
of the Brest fleet. His search, however, being unsuccessful, he returned to
England. In November, he again sailed for the 3Iediterranean, to take the com-
mand of the fleet there, and which was now wholly resigned to him in conse-
quence of the increasing illness of the earl St Vincent. While in this command
lord Keith performed a series of important services. By tiie judicious arrange-
ment of his ships, and the co-operation of lord Nelson, he succeeded in capturing

292 GEORGE KEITH-ELPHINSTONE.

two large French sliips proceeding to La Valetta, with troops and stores. lie
blockaded tlie ports of Toulon, ^Marseilles, Nice, and the coast of tlie Riviera ;
and, co-oj)eiating A\ith tlic Aiistrians, wlio were besieging Genoa, lie so eflectu-
ally cut oil" all supplies from tlic I'rencli garrison in that place by tlie activity of
his blockade, that they were compelled to surrender. Iiitbc following Septem-
ber, the island of iNIalta was captured by a detachment of his fleet. Tlie British
cabinet having deteriuined to make a descent on Spain, lord Keith and Sir
Ralph AbcrcromI)y entered tile bay of Cadiz with a large fleet, having on board
about eighteen thousand troops. Circumstances, however, occurred, which the
admiral and general conceived warranted them in not attempting the proposed
landing, and they accordingly withdrew without making any descent.

Tiie greatest and most brilliant of all lord Keith's services, however, was yet
to be performed ; this was the celebrated landing of Aboukir, one of the most
splendid aflairs in the annals of Avar ; and it was in a great measure owing to
the promptitude and skill of the admiral alone, that this critical and perilous
enterprise >vas so triumphantly accomplished. For this important service lord
Keith received the thanks of both houses of parliament, and on the 5lh Decem-
ber, 1801, he was created a baron of the united kingdom, by the titleof baron
Keith of Uarheath, county of Dumbarton, lie had been previously advanced to
the rank of admiral of the blue. In the fulness of the country's gratitude for
his services, he Mas also presented by the corporation of London with the free-
dom of the city in a gold box, together with a sword of the value of one hun-
dred guineas, and >vas invested by the Grand Signor with the order of the
Crescent, which he had established to perpetuate the memory of the services ren-
dered to the Ottoman empire by the Ihitish.

In 1803, lord Keith was appointed conaiiander-in-cliief of all his majesty's
ships in the north sea. In 1805, he was further advanced to the rank of rear-
admiral of the white, and in 1812, succeeded Sir Charles Cotton as commander-
in-chief of the channel fleet. While on this station, it was his lot to be the
means of capturing the person of Napoleon Bonaparte, on his flight from France
after the battle of Waterloo. The disposition which lord Keith made of his
ships on this occasion was such, that the distinguished fugitive, after being taken
by captain 3Iaitl;ind of the Bellerophon, acknowledged escape to have been im-
possible. His treatment of tlie prisoner was as noble, delicate, and humane, as
his arrangements for seizing him had been dexterous, lie acted throughout the
whole affair with so much good sense and right feeling, that he at once gained
the esteem and gratitude of Napoleon, and the approbation of the government
which he represented.

In 1814, lord Keith had been ci-eated a viscount; and, at the conclusion of
the war, by the exile of Napoleon in St Helena, he retired to enjoy his well-
earned honours in the bosom of liis family, and the society of his former friends.
Latterly he resided constantly on his estate of Tulliallan, where he erected a
mansion-house suited to his rank and fortune. Tiiere he also expended largo
sums in works of permanent utility, and united witli constant acts of voluntary
bounty the encouragement of industrious pursuit and useful occupation, those
sure sources of condbrt to a surrounding population. 'I'he strength of his na-
tural understanding enabled him to derive the utmost benefit 'from all that he
had occasion to see or to contemplate. A most tenacious memory and great
readiness enabled him to bring all his inlbrmation effectually into action when
tlie occasion called for it. Such powers, united to a fertility of mind which is
rarely excelled, rendered him a most distinguished character in all that regarded
his profession. In social intercourse, his lundly nature was constantly predomi-
nant : he was entirely free of afteclation in conversation, and he dealt out the

GEORGE KEITH. 293

facts .iiul anecdotes uith v.liich his memory was stored, in a most interesting
and amusing manner. Lord Keith was invariably influenced by the kindest
feelinijs for all who were connected witii liim, and, witliout solicitation on their
part, he was uniformly alive to whatever could promote their interest. Eut this
did not limit the exient of liis usefulness to others; on the contrary, being al-
ways open to approach, he was zealous in foi'warding, to the utmost of his power,
the objects of deserving men. Accordingly, it may be safely said of him, Uiat he
could reckon as great a number of meritorious oflicera, of all ranks and descriptions,
who had been placed in their proper stations by his efforts, as any man of his
rank who served during the same distinguished period of our naval history.

His first lady having died in 1789, lord Keith married, in January, 1808,
the eldest daughter of Henry Thrale, L'sq. I\I.P. for Southwark ; of which
union the issue was one child, a daughter. In 1 823, lord Keith was permitted
by the king to accept the last additional honour he was to receive on earth, in
the sknpe of a grand cross of the royal Sardinian order of St 3Jaurice and St
Lazare. He died at TuUiallan house, on tlie 10th of 3Iarch, 1823, in the 7Sth
year of his age.

KEITH, George, fifth earl 3Iarischal, founder of the DIai'ischal college of
Aberdeen, 'Ihe period of this nobleman's birth is unknown ; his father was
Willianj lord Keith, (eldest son of the fourth earl IMarischal,) a person known in
history as having been taken prisoner into England in 1558, and released for
.1 ransom of £2000. This individual married Elizabeth Hay, daughter- to the
earl of Errol, by whom, at his death in 1580, he left, besides the subject of our
memoir, three sons and four daugliters.^ George succeeded his grandfather in
the year 1581, and we find him towards the end of the year following, doing
his duty in parliament.^ W'e are led to understand, that, previously to his suc-
ceeding to the title, he had spent some time among the seals of learning on the
continent. As with all men who have been remarkable in advanced life, it was
recollected of him after his death, that in youth he showed an extreme desire for
knowledge, and a facility in its acquisition. We are informed that he studied at
the King's college of Aberdeen,'^ and that at the ago of eighteen ho was an
adept in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew langoiages, and in the studies of anti-
quities, history, and literature ; when, discontented with the scope allowed in
his own country, he resolved to study in I'lance.* On this journey, it is said
that he was courteously received by the Landgrave of Hesse, (the chief among
the descendants of that celebrated tribe of " Catti," from which the fabulous
historians have traced the family of Keith,) along with the other noble youths of
the age. While he was accumulating knowledge, he did not forget the oppor-
tunities afibrded him in France, of perfecting himself in the knowledge of
arms, and the feats of athletic jugglery then in vogue. After seme time, Keith
left Prance, preferring a residence in Geneva, with the illustrious Theodore
Beza, by whom he Avas instructed in divinity, history, and tlie art of speaking'.
During his residence tiiere, an accident of a melancholy nature happened. His
younger brother, William, who had accompanied him on his journey, and had
apparently, with high promise of future eminence, shared in his studies, was
killed in a tumult, during an excursion into the country. His eminent master,

1 Douglas' Peerage, 193.

" Act. Pari., ill. 326.

^ Micldleton's arcount of the Iving's colli-ge of Aberdeen and of the great men there, IMS.
Bib. Ad. M. 6, 15.

* Oratio Fumhris, in obitum maximi virorum Gcorgii Marischalli coinitis, D, Keith et
Altre, &c., Academia; Marischalliunu Aberdonia) funilatoiis, et Mecaniatis munificentissimi ;
scripta et prouuiiciata a Guliehiio Ogstono, philosophise moralis ibidem professore, Abcr,
llaban, 1623, 4to, p. 11.

294 GEOUGIi KEITH.

along with Gaulter and Andrew Melville, have celebrated the memory and
talents of tliis young man. Beza, in tlic dedication of his " Icones virorum
doctrina et pietate ilhistriiiin," to king James, mentions, with nuicli satisfaction,
the circumstance of having been intrusted with the education of pupils so illus-
trious. After the death of his brother, Keitli left lieueva, and visited tiie
courts of I'^urope, where his rank and great ^vealth admitted his making a con-
siderable figure. It is said that, even in this employment, presumed to be full of
gayety, he was a grave and accurate student: tliat he indulged in the splendour
of courts more for the purpose of acquiring historical knowledge, than of pur-
suing pleasure, and tliat he travelled less for the purpose of recreation and
variety, than for the acquisition of correct knowledge of the various countries of
the world, having seldom seen a country of which lie did not show his acquain-
tance, by embodying his knowledge in a map.'' He returned to his native
country, after an absence of seven years. The Scottish peer who in the six-
teentli century founded a university, and encouraged learning, must have been a
man whose penetration and grasp of mind were very different from th.ose of his
colleagues in rank, yet he appears not to have been totally exempt from the bar-
barous habits and feelings of tiie day.

On the 8th of June, 15S5, we find him obtaining a remission under the
great seal, for " art and part" of tiie slaughter of his relative William Keith,
apparent of Luduquhairn ;^ and in 15D5, he is charged to appear before the
king and council, as a person entertaining a deadly feud with the laird of Blel-
drum.' Soon after his accession to the earldom, the celebrated raid of Ruthven
took place, a political movement, as to ^vhicll it is ditlicult to discover his view
but with which his connexion seems to have somewhat displeased the king. He
was, apparently, not present at the " raid," nor does lie appear to have
approached so hot a political atmosphere, until the king's escape from Falkland
to St Andre^vs, whither he repaired, apparently as a neutral person ; but he is
represented as having retired to his own home in disgust, on the king cIianoin»
the lenient measure he had at first proposed towards the rebels.^ The earl was
a member of that parliament which, on the I9lh of October, 1582, approved
the acts of the conspirators, holding their proceedings as legal, and protectinn-
their persons from punishment, by an act which >vas afterwards expunged from
the statute book. 'J It is not without surprise, that, after such a measure, we find
him acting as chancellor of the assize of peers, which, with considerable par-
tiality in its proceedings, found the earl of Gowrie guilty of treason, on account
of his share in the raid of Ruthven.'" It can scarcely be doubted, that in these
proceedings he was guilty of inconsistency : it is not likely that any one attended
a parliament held under the auspices of the conspirators, for tlie purpose of
voting against them, and it was not cu;tomary for the crown to choose assizors
who would acquit, while his having acted as chancellor leaves no doubt that he
voted for a verdict of guilty! Charity vun only palliate this tergiversation, on
the circumstance, that Gowrie had, in the interval between these events, been
guilty of additional acts of disobedience.

After the singular proceedings on the part of James towards the court of
Denmark, in attempting a negotiation of marriage with the eldest daughter of
Frederick tiie 11., which terminated in that monarch (not presuming the kinn- of
Scotland to be serious in his proposals) marrying Ills daughter to the duke of
Brunswick; the lover, disappointed of one daughter, ^vas rescdved to try more
consistent plans for obtaining the other, and James proposed to send lord Allry,

' Oialio Fuiiobris ut sup. ' MilviUr's Memoirs, 270 74.

• Duughis' FLcrag.-, i. 193. " Act. I'ail., iii. 3'<iG.

' Pitciiiin's Criminal Tiiuis, i. 353. ^^ I'iuaiiii's Ciimiiial Tiials, i. IIG.

GEORGE KEITH. 295

uncle to the earl Marischal, to Denmark, to make serious proposals to Fredei-
ick's second daughter, Anne. The disposition of the council of Scotland, was
such as prompted Altry, an oUl and iniiriu statesman, averse to engaging in the
excitement of politics, to decline the high office, and his nephew, the earl 3Iaris-
ciial, showed a desire to ofli<:iato in his stead. " Now the earl Marischal," says
Sir James 31elvilie in his cautious manner, " was desirous to supply the place of
his uncle, my lord of Allry : and his majesty was content that he should be sent
lliilher. Whereupon I took occasion to represent to his majesty, that the said
carl Avas very well qualified for that employment, and that he would go the
better contented, if he might have in commission witli him some of his own
friends and acquaintance. His majesty answered, that it was his part to choose
his own ambassadors ; that the earl Olarischal should have the first place as a
nobleman, but," continues Sir James with his usual complacency, " that he w'ould
repose the chief handling with the regent and council of Denmark upon me.""
It is probable that the great Avealth of the earl, who was then the richest noble-
man in Scotland, was a cogent reason for appointing him to superintend an
expensive expedition. It was the policy of queen tlizabeth to object to the
proposed alliance, and the privy council of Scotland showed a disposition to
accede to her wishes. In the mean time, the tradesmen of Edinburgh, insti-
gated, it is said, by the secret interference of James, took the matter into their
hands, threatening the privy council, and denouncing vengeance against Thirle-
stane, the cliancellor, whom they looked upon as the chief agent of Elizabeth.
James had made his resolution, and the earl was finally despatched to Denmark,
along with the constable of Dundee, and lord Andrew Keith, whom he had
requested permission to take as an associate. Owing to the vacillating policy
of James, " his power to conclude was so limited, and his commission so slender,
that he was compelled to send back again my lord Dingwall, either for a license
to come home, or for a sufficient power to conclude."^' Dingwall found the
king at Aberdeen, who, as the chancellor and most part of the council were
absent, was now in a situation to give more ample powers. The storm which
interrupted the voyage of the princess is well known as an amusing portion
of Scottish history; in the mean time, tlio chancellor, who was the deadly
enemy of the earl Marischal, had, from his opposition to the measure, sunk in
the favour of James, and did not recover his former estimation, without suffering
the expense of procuring the handsome fast-sailing vessel, in which the monarch
made that voyage to Denmark which has been considered so unaccount-
ably inconsistent with his general character. We shall give, in the words of
Sir James IMelville, an account of the very characteristic squabbles which took
place between the two rival peers at the court of Copenhagen. " The company
who were with his majesty put him to great ti'ouble to agree their continual
janglings, strife, pride, and partialities. The earl Marischal, by reason that he
Avr.s an ancient earl, and had been first employed in this honourable commission,
thought to have the first place next unto his majesty so long as he was there.
The chancellor, by reason of his office, would needs have the pre-eminence.
There were also contentions between him and the justice-clerk. The constable
of Dundee and my lord Dingwall could not agree about place. George Hume
did quietly shoot out William Keith from his office of masler of the Avardrobe.
At length they were all divided into two factions ; the one for the earl JMaris-
clial ; the other for the chancellor who was the stronger, because the king took
his part; so that the chancellor triumphed."'^ The munificence and great
Aveallh of the earl, prompted him to bear, in the first instance, the expense of
the mission ; he could not have done a service more acceptable to his sovereign,
11 Melville's Memoirs, 357. ^^ ibid, 35S. '^ n jj^ ^q2.

296 GEORGE KEITH.

and it appears to liave finally reinsuited him in farour. In 1592, tlie earl
received a parliamentary ratification of his acts as concerned the mission, and
was at the same time empowered to recover, from a foifeiled estate, tlie expense
lie had incurred, stated as amounting to 315G nierks." L'p to tlie commence-
ment of the eighteenth century, tiie debt uas, however, unrecovered,'^ and it is
not probable that at'ier that jieriod it was ever paid.

In la^S, the enrl was one of tlie commissioners appointed to superintend the
" new erection'' or alteration in management of the King's college of Aberdeen ;
and it is probable that the duties in uhich he was then engaged, prompted iiim,
ten years afterwards, to perform that act of enlightened munificence, uhich has
perpetuated his name as the founder of 3Iarischal college. The charter of the
univei-sity \vas granted by the earl on the 2nd April, 1593 ; it was approved of
by the General Assembly of Dundee on the Sith of the same month, after having
been submitted to tiie examination of a committee, and was ratified by Parlia-
ment on the 21st of July following. Ihe college was endowed to maintain a
principal, three regent professors, and six bursars. By the foundation, the
languages and sciences appointed to be taught, were, Greek, Hebrew, and
Syriac, natural history, geometry, geograpliy, chronology, and astronomy.
In opposition to the principle previously pursued, by which each professor con-
ducted a class of students through all the branches of knowledge taught in any
university, the subjects taught in 3Iarischal college were divided among separate
masters, each of \\liom adhered to his peculiar branch — an excellent i-egulation,
afterivards departed from, but resumed in the middle of the eighteenth century."'
Without descending to the particular benefits of this institution, the circumstance
that many eminent names are connected with Marischal college, and that its
small endowments have cultivated intellects which might have long lain unpro-
ductive, are sufficient of themselves to speak to the honour of its noble founder.
There are 114 bursaries connected -with the college, of the annual value o'
£1150. Alout 70 of these are open to competition. Two of them are of the
annual value of £30 each, and are adjudged for excellence in matheruatics to
students who have studied that science for two sessions, and are held for two
years. The bursaries range in value from £3 to £15 annually — the smallest
paying the full fee of the possessor for the four years dui-ing which he remains
at the university, and the larger frequently forming for a time the chief support
of one or two individuals who would otherwise remain uneducated. They are
carefully protected, as the rewards of talent and labour, and held by those who
gain them as their right, independently of the authority of the officials of the
university. The ancient buildings of the university having fallen into decay, the
foundation of a splendid new building, in the Gothic style, from designs by Mr
Archibald Simpson, architect, was laid, with masonic honours, by the Duke of
Richmond, chancellor of the university, on the 18th of October, 1837. The
builder's contract amounted to £21,420, of wLicli sum £15,000, with interest
thereon from 1826, was granted by government, the remainder beicg raised by
private subscription. The new buildings were completed in 1842. Several new
chairs have been instituted. The average number of students for the last twenty
years has been — in arts, 190; in divinity, 120; in law, 35; in medicine, 84.

"Within the same year, when Marischal college was founded, we find its patron

" Act. Pari, iii.oll.

1* A short relation of the origin of the Keiths in Scotland, with a list of the predecessors
of the prestnt earl Marischal of tliat kingdome, being ane abstract of the history of that noble
family, anno Domini, 1600. Aberdeen, x die Aprilis, An. Dom. 1700.

W E'er a farther account of this matter, vide the memoir of Alexander Gerard in this coL
lection.

GEORGE KEITH. 297

oiij^.-igcd ill other works of public utility. He granted a charter to Peterhead.
And by tlie act 15'J3, c. 48, we find liim empowered to exact a toll of twenty
pence for every last of goods entering or leaving a harbour lie Iiad attached to
tliat town.^' At the same period, tiic secret transactions with tlie court of Spain,
of \vhicli some of tiic nortliern peers were suspected, and the discovery of those
mysterious docanients known by the name of " the Spanish blanks," created
alarm in the nation, and consternation at court ; and by tlie same act of 1593,
the earl 3Iarisch:il, as a trusty statesman, was empowered to act the part of king's
comniissioner in the shires of Kincardine, Aberdeen, and Hanlf, and to inquire
into the conduct of the earls of Errol, Ilunliy, Angus, and others. ^^ A trust of
still higher order was reposed in the earl, in June (ith, IGOD, when, by commis-
sion under the great seal, he was appointed lord Ingli commissioner to the par-
liament of Scotland.

In the year 1622, in the old age of a well-spent life, the earl felt his last
illness come upon him, and he retired to his fortress of Uunnotter, where he is
said to have borne his sickness with patience and religious resignation. Dr
Dun, one of the professors of his college, attended him as physician, and the dis-
ease for a time yielded to medicine, but finally relapsed.'^ The latter days of
this great and useful man do not appear to have been permitted to pass in
domestic peace, and his death-bed was disturbed by the desertion and crime of
an unfeeling wife. The circumstance to which we refer is one of a very singular
nature ; and as it is impossible at this period to trace all the motives from ^vliich
it originated, we shall state it, almost verbatim, as it occurs in the criminal re-
cord, avoiding antiquated ortiiography. "On the 3rd of 3Iarch, lG2i, Dame
fliargaret Ogilvie, countess dowager of Marischal, along with her then husband,
Sir Alexander Strauchane of Thornetoun, knight, and Robert Strauclian, doctor
in physic, were accused before the high court of justiciary, of the ignoble crimes
of masterful theft and stouthrief, in having stolen from the place of Benholm, be-
longing to the earl, certain jewels, silver plate, household stuff', gold, silver, and
title deeds, in October, 1622, a little before the said earl's decease." On
the same day, James Keith of Benholme was cited to answer for a similar crime,
committed at the same time, and in the same place. The tivo cases are evidently
connected together, and tiie minute in the latter provides us with the following
inventory of articles stolen, which is an evidence of the magnificence and wealth
of ,thc earl, and an extraordinary feature in the transaction. Of Portugal
ducats, and other species of foreign gold, to the avail of 26,000 pounds or
thereby ; tliirty-six dozen gold buttons ; a rich jewel set with diamonds, which
the deceased earl received as a gift when he was ambassador in Denmark, Avorth
6,000 mcrks ; the queen of Denmark's picture in gold, set about with rich
diamonds, estimated at 5,000 merks ; a jasper stone for stemming of blood, esti-
mated at 500 I'rench crowns; a chain of " equall perle," wherein were 400
pearls great and small ; two chains of gold, of twenty-four ounce weight ; an-
other jewel of diamonds set in gold, worth 3,000 merks; a great pair of brace-
lets, all set -.vith diamonds, pri(;o lliereof 500 crowns ; tiie other pair of gold
bracelets at 600 pounds the pair; a turquois ring worth ten French crowns; a
diamond set in a ring, wortli twenty-eight French crowns, witli a number of
other small rings set with diamonds and other rich stones in gold, worth 300
French crowns; also 16,000 merks of silver and gold ready coined, ^vhich was
witliin a green coll'er ; together with the wlude tapestry, silver-work, bedding,
goods, gear, and plenishing within the said place. The case, as regarded the
counters, and Sir Alexander and Dr Strauchane, was postponed by a royal war-

" Act Par., iv. 35. 13 Act. Pari., iv. 44. Pilcaini'.s Crim. Trial?, i 2S3.

i^Oratio Funubris iit sup.

III. -.; p '^

298 HON. JAMES KEITH.

rant to the 2iid of July, from thence to the 27ih of July, and from thence to the
8th of December, of whicli date no entry appearing, the lord advocate seems to
have been prevailed witli to give up the pursuit ; Keith of Benholmc, uho seems
to have occupied, or been ste^vard of, tlie house so strangely dilapidated, was
outlawed for not appearing.-'^

The earl died at live o'clock on the morning of the fifth day of April, 1623,
and a monument with a poetical inscription was erected to his memory. The
funeral oration so frequently referred to, was read at 3Iarischal college on the
30th June, 1G23, by Ogston, the professor of moral philosophy; it compares
his deatli to an earthquake, and sundry other prodigies of nature — heaps too
great a load of virtues on his shoulders for mankind to bear with comfort, and
in detailing the perfections of the dead IMecaenas, the author docs not neglect
those of the living Solomon. A book of " Tears" was also published to his me-
mory, chiefly composed by Massy and Alexander Wedderburn."* The lady al-
ready so equivocally mentioned was his second wife, a daughter of James, sixth
lord Ogilvie : he had previously mai'ried Blargaret, daughter of Alexander, fifth
lord Hume," and by both he had several children.

KEITH, (the Honourable) Ja.mes, commonly called marshal Keith, the
younger son of William, ninth earl Blarischal, and lady 3Iary Drummond,
daughter to the earl of Perth, was born in the year 1G96. His aptness for
learning seems to have been very considerable, since he acquired in after-life a
reputation for letters scarcely inferior to his military renown ; a circumstance
which Avas possibly in no small degree owing to his having had the good fortune
to receive the rudiments of his education from the celebrated bishop Keith, who
was allied to his family by consanguinity, and who ofUciated as tutor to himself
and his elder brother, the tenth earl Marischal.

Mr Keith was originally designed for the law, and with the view of making it
his profession, he was sent to Edinburgh to complete his studies. It was soon
discovered, however, that he entertained a much stronger predilection for the
camp than the bar ; — he seems indeed to have been very early attached to the
military profession. His language, when the subject happened at any time to
be alluded to, was always full of martial enthusiasm, even Avhile yet a mere
stripling. " I have begun to study the law," he said, " in compliance with the
desires of the countess of Marischal, (his mother,) but conunend me, gentlemen,
to stand before the mouth of a cannon for a few minutes ; this either makes a
man in an instant, or he dies gloriously in the field of battle." Such was the
spirit in which the young soldier entered on his career of fame.

The earl Marischal, elder brother of the subject of this memoir, was one
of those Tory noblemen who signed the proclamation of George I. The
party being disappointed in their hopes of office under the new dynasty, he re-
tmned in a state of high irritation to Scotland, and at York met his brother
James, who was on his way to London for the purpose of asking a conunission in
the army. Tiie two young men returned home together, burning with resent-
ment, and on the commencement of the insurrection of 1715, they were incited
at once by their own feelings, and by the advice of their mother, who was a ca-
tholic, to declare for the Pretender. The meeting held by the earl of Mar, (who
was their cousin,) under the semblance of a hunting match, was attended by the
two brothers, and tiiey continued, throughout the remainder of the campaign,

2" Pilcairn's dim. Trials, iii. 562. . „ , . .

21 "Lachiima) Acadcmia) MarischaUanoc sub obitum Mcca;natis et Fundatons sui, mu-
ni ficcntissi mi, iiobilissimi et illustrissimi, Gcorgii Comitis Marischalli, Domini do Keith et
Altre, &c." — Aberd. linban, 1623.

^i Duiigl.is' Peerage.

HON. JAMES KEITPI. 299

to act a bold and conspicuous part under that unfortunate leader. Tlie imme-
diate subject of this memoir is said to have manifested a degree of resolution and
conduct wliicli attracted much attention, and inspired hopes of liis future fortune.
On the final dispersion of the rebel army at liuthven in Ijadenoch, tliey had no
resource but to make the best of tiieir May to a foreign land, uliere they might
be safe from the consequences of their enterprise. They proceeded, in company
nitli many other Lowland gentlemen, to the Western Isles, Avhere they designed to
Mait till a vessel could be procured to convey them to France. While in the isles,
where they were detained nearly a month, the fugitives were frequently alarmed
by reports of their retreat liaving- been discovered, and that an armament had
been despatclied in quest of them ; and on one occasion they were informed that
three frigates, viith two battalions of foot on board, were within ten miles of
thenu They, Iiowever, were not molested. On the 20th of April, a ship which
liad been despatched from France lor the purpose, arrived at the island on which
they were concealed. Losing- no time, they, along- with about a hundred com-
panions in misfortune, embarked on board of this vessel, and arrived in safety
at St Paul de Leon in Brittany, on the 12th of iMay, 1716. On their arrival
at this port, the greater part of them proceeded immediately to wait upon the
Pretender, who was then at Avignon ; the others, amongst whom was Keith,
went straight to Paris, where the latter had at that time several relations resid-
ing. On reaching Paris, Keith waited upon the queen-mother, by whom he
was most graciously received, and who, amongst otlier flattering- things, said,
that she had heard of his good services in her son's cause, and that neither of
them should ever forget it. Keith now proposed to the queen-mother to visit
the king, by which he meant the Pretender, and asked her permission to do so.
She, however, dissuaded him from taking this step, saying that he was yet but
young, and had better remain in Paris and recommence his studies, and con-
cluded by proposing to bear the charge of liis future education. Notwithstand-
ing this flattering reception, a whole month elapsed before Keith heard any
thing further from the queen-mother, and, in the mean time, he was reduced to
great straits for want of money, living principally by selling horse furniture,
which military officers were at this period in the liabit of carrying about with
them, and which, being sometimes richly ornamented with silver, was a very
valuable article. There were many friends of himself and his family in Paris,
who would readily have afibided him any pecuniary assistance he might have
required, but, as he himself says, iu a IMS. memoir of his life, written with his
own hand, to which Ave have access, " I was then either so bashful or so vain,
that I would not own the want I was in." His Avants, however, of this kind
Avere soon amply provided for, and from vai'ious unlooked for sources. The
queen-mother at length sent him 1000 livres, and much about the same time a
Parisian banker Availed upon him, and informed liim tliat he had instructions
from Scotland to supply liim Avith money, and an order from king James to pay
him 200 crowns a-year, with an apology for the smallness of the sum, as it Avas
all that his (the king's) circumstances enabled him to do. Relieved now from
his pecuniary difficulties, he betook himself to study, to which he devoted the
•ivhole of the remaining part of the year 171G, and a great part of the folloAving
year. Previous to this, and Avhile pursuing his studies, he received a commission
as colonel of horse in the service of the king of SAveden, Avho entertained a de-
sign of making a descent on Scotland in favour of king James. The project,
however, Avas discovered long before it could be carried into execution, and thus
both the intended invasion and Keith's commission fell to the ground. Another
opportunity, although equally fruitless in its results, presented itself to the young
soldier, noAv in his twentieth year, of pushing his fortune Avitli his sword. This

300 HON. JAMES KEITH.

was the appearance in Paris of Peter the first, emperor of Russia. Keith made
every effort to obtain admission into the service of that potentate, but without
effect, he liiniself supposes on account of liis not having employed the proper
means. In the following year, 17 it), learning that there was an inten-
tion on the part of Spain, similar to that which had been entertained by the
king of Sweden, viz., to attempt the restoration of king JaniLS by invad-
ing Scotland — Keith and his brother the earl IMarischal set out for 3!adrid,
with the vie\v of offering their services in the proposed expedition. These
were readily accepted, and the two brothers, after reper.ted interviews with car-
dinal Alberoni, then prime minister of Spain, were furnished with instruc-
tions regmding the intended descent, and with means to carry that part of it
which was intrusted to them into execution. By previous appointment, Keith
and his brother the earl 3Iarischal were met at Havre de Grace, the point at
which they had fixed to embark for Scotland, by several of the Scottish leaders
in the rising of 1715, who were still lurking about France. All of them hav-
ing bean advised of the undertaliing, were furnished \\itli commissions from the
king of Spain, to apply equally to the Spanish forces which Avere to be sent after
them, and to those which they should raise in the country.

The co-operation in this enterprise which they ^vere led to expect Avns the
landing in England of the duke of Ormond with an army, which it was proposed
should innuediately take place. Two frigates, with Spanish troops on board, were
also to follow them within a day or t^vo, to land with them in Scotland, and
enable them to connnence tlieir operations in that kingdom. On the Ifltli of
3Iarch, the expatriated chiefs embarked on board a small vessel of about twenty-
five tons, and after encountering some stormy weatlier and running great risk
from some English ships of war Avhich they fell in Avith, they reached the island of
Lewis on the 4th of April. 'Ihey were soon afterwards joined by the two
frigates, and a debarkation on the main land was innnediately determined upon.
In the expectation of being joined by large bodies of Highlanders, they pro-
posed to march forward to Inverness, from which they h.oped to drive out the
small force by which it was garrisoned.

'Jhe whole enterprise, however, hurried on to a disastrous conclusion. The
duke of Onnond's fleet was dispersed: the Highlandeis refused to embark in the
desperate undertaking ; a very few only joining the invaders, and these showing
little enthusiasm in tiie <-ause : and to complete their ruin, they were attacked
and defeated by a body of troops which had been despatched to arrest their pro-
gress. They were, however, not so completely routed but that they were enabled
to retire in partial order to the summit of some high grounds in the vicinity
of the scene of action. Here a council of war was held during the night, in
which it was resolved that the Spaniards should on the next day surrender them-
selves prisoners of war, that tlie Highlanders should disperse, and that the of-
ficers sliould each seek his safety in the best way he could.

'Ihus Keith found iiimself placed in exactly the same desperate circumstances in
which he was after the rising of 1715, — an outlawed fugitive, without means and
without a home. After lurking some months in the Highlands, during the greater
part of which, to add to his misfortunes, he was in bad health, he found his way
to Peterhead, where he embarked for Holland, whither his brother had gone
before him. Being here joined by the latter, lliey both proceeded to the Hague,
and sometime afterwards to 31adrid. Here Keith's pecuniary difficulties be-
came as pressing and infinitely more despei-ate than they were in Paris on his
arrival there in 1715, "I was now," he says, " as the French have it, au pie
de la lettre sur le pave. I knew nobody and was known to none, and had not
my good fortune brought rear-admiral Canunoek to IMadrid, whom I had known

HON. JAMES KEITH. 301

formerly in Faris, I don't know what would have become of nie ; he immediate-
ly ofiered me his house and his table, both which I was glad to accent of."
Thus shifting-, togetlier with the aid of some arrears of pay Mliich he received
from the king of Spain, lie remained the greater i)art of the year 1720 and,
with the exception of some short absences, all the year 1721, at 3Iadrid. He
then removed to Paris, where he lived for the next three or four years, receiv-
ing the pay of a Spanish colonel, but without being attached to any regiment.
At the end of this period Keith again returned to Spain, and was employed in
active service up to the year 1728. Thinking himself, however, rather over-
looked, he in this year addressed a letter to the king, soliciting his patrona«»-e,
and requesting that he might be appointed to the command of the hrst Irish
regiment which should become vacant. The answer of his majesty to this ap-
plication was, that so soon as he knew that he was a Koman catholic he should
not only have what he asked, but that his future fortunes should be cared for.
Finding all hopes of promotion in the Spanish service thus cut off on account of
his religious belief, Keith solicited a reconmiendation from his Spanish majestv
to the court of Russia, where he now determined to try his fortunes. The re-
commendation which he sought was at once granted, and forwarded to the em-
peror of Russia, who soon after intimated to him his admission into his service
as a major-general. On Keith's leaving IVIadrid for 3Ioscow, the king of Spain
presented him with a douceur of 1000 crowns, and soon after his arrival in
Russia he was promoted to the command of a regiment of guards, an appoint-
ment of great trust, and which had hitherto been bestowed on none but especial
favourites of the sovereign. He was further named one of three inspectors ot
army details, and awarded as his department the frontier of Asia, with the
country on both sides of the Volga and Don, together with part of the frontier
of Poland. About this time one of his early instructors, a 3Ir Morton, hearing
of his good fortune, wrote to him a letter of congratulation on his prosperity.
The general's reply partook of his nature ; it was kind and unaffected. " I am
a true Scotsman indeed," he said amongst other obliging things, " wise behind
the hand ; for had I been more careful to imbibe the excellent instructions I re-
ceived under your inspection, I had still made a better figure in the world."
Hitherto the general, though he iiad proven himself at once a zealous and an
able officer in the discharge of his military duties, had had no opportunity of
exhibiting his talents for active Avarfare. Such an opportunity, however, at
length offered. On the death of the king of Poland, that unhappy kingdom
was entered by a Russian army to overawe, or rather control the election of a
new king. On this occasion the general was despatched into Poland with six
battalions of foot, GOO dragoons, and 4000 Cossacks. While on this service he
was ordered by the commander-in-chief, prince Schahofskoi, to ravage the coun-
try. With a feeling of humanity and in a spirit of honour Mhich reflects much
credit on his character, both as a soldier and a man, he endeavoured to evade
the painful, and as he felt it, dishonourable duty. Finding that no dictates of
humanity would weigh with the commander-in-chief, lie tried the effects of in-
terested considerations ; representing to him, that if the system of devastation
was continued, not only would the inhabitants, but the Russian army also be re-
duced to a state of absolute starvation. This had the desired effect. The
general was immediately ordered to desist from further spoliation. During the
whole of this \\r.i- the general conducted himself with a degree of judgment and
gallantry, and in short, discovered throughout such a possession of the best and
most valuable qualities of the soldier, as now ranked him indisputably amongst
the first captains of the age. He was severely wounded in the knee in this
service at Ocrakow. The injury was of so serious a nature that the Russian

302 HON. JAMES KEITH.

sargeons recoiniuentled lliat the wounded limb sliould be amputated, and the
general at once gave his consent to the operation being performed. But his
brother, who liad gone to visit him on this occasion, would not listen to the pro-
posal. "I hope," he said, " James has yet more to do with tlut leg, and I
will not part with it so easily, at least not until I liave the best advice in
Europe." In the spirit of biolherly affection which these expressions bespeak,
he immediately removed the general to Paris, to procure the advice of the
surgical skill of that city, and the result was highly favourable. The French
surgeons, doing what those of Russia had neglected, laid open the general's
knee, and extracted some pieces of cloth which had been driven into the
wound by the shot, and had all along prevented that cure which was now soon
effected.

The military fame of general Keith was now spread over all Europe, and had
attracted in a particular manner the notice of the warlike Frederick of Prussia,
who lost no time in inviting him into his service, offering him the rank of a
field marshal and the governorship of Berlin, with ample means to support the
dignity of these situations. These offers were too tempting to be refused- The
general accepted them, and immediately proceeded to the Prussian court His
affable manners and luilitary genius soon won him the personal esteem of his
new master, who not only admitted but invited him to the most familiar inter-
course, travelled with him throughout his own dominions and those of the neigh-
bouring states, and acknowledged him as an adviser in matters of military business,
and <TS his companion in Ids hours of relaxation. For some time after his ar-
rival in Prussia the marshal enjoyed a respite from military service, Fi-ederick
happening then to be, we cannot say at peace, but not at actual war with any
of the European powers. This leisure he devoted to literary pursuits, entering
into and maintaining a correspondence with some of the most eminent politicians
and philosophers of the day, all of whom bear testimony to the gi-eat talent and
ability with which he discussed the various subjects on which he ^\Tote, and not
the smallest portion of their praise was bestowed upon the elegance and felicity
of language which his correspondence exhibited-

Frederick's, however, ivas not a service in which much repose of this kind
could be expected. He, of whom it is said, that he looked upon peace only as
a preparation for war, was not likely either to remain long idle himself, or to
permit such a man as mai-shal Keith to be so.

The outrageous conduct of Frederick in repeated instances had long given
great umbrage to many of the European powers, but none of them had dared to
come to open hostilities with him. At length, however, they fell upon the plan
of combining their effxjrts for the chastisement of the warlike monarch, whom
none of them would venture to face singly.

Austria, Russia, Germany, and France, all took the field against the Prussian
monarch. During the vicissitudes and operations which ensued, in attacking at
one time and resisting at another, the various efforts of his numerous enemies,
Frederick intrusted the most important, next to those which he himself assumed,
to marshal Keith, whose military talents and sound judgment he found during
the arduous struggle which followed, liad not been over-rated. When summoned
by the prince of Saxe-IIildburg to sun-ender Leipsic, which Frederick had left
him to defend with 8000 men, the gallant soldier, then upwards of GO years of
age, replied to the messenger, " Let your master know that I am by birth a
Scotsman, by inclination as well as duty, a Prussian, and shall defend the town
in such a manner that neither the country which gave me birth nor that A\hich
has adopted me shall be ashamed of me. The king my master has ordered me
to defend it to the last extremity, and he shall be obeyed." Early on the

HON. JAMES KEITH. 303

following morning-, the marslial summoned the magistrates of the town together
told them of the communication which he had from the enemy, and advised them
to wait upon the prince, and heg of him, for their own sakes and that of the
inhabitants in general, to refrain from proceeding to extremities aoainst the
city ; " for," said he, with a tact which showed the consummate soldier, " if he
proceeds in this resolution, I Avill myself begin to set fire to the suburbs, and
if that be not sufficient to oblige the enemy to desist from his enterprise, I
will go further, and not spare even the city itself;" and Avith many expressions
of reluctance to have recourse to such dreadful measures, to whicli he said neces-
sity alone could compel him, he dismissed the teiTified citizens, who instantly
despatched a deputation to wait upon the prince. All, however, they could ob-
tain from the latter was a modification of the tei-ms of the original summons.
Another was sent, in which the Prussians were offered the liberty of marching
out of the town without molestation. This summons marshal Keith rejected
with the same determination as the forniei", to the gTeat provocation of the
prince, who, in his resentment at the tone of defiance assumed by the Prussian
commander, declared that if the latter earned his threat into execution regard-
ing the burning of the town, he would lay Berlin or Potsdam in ashes. The
extremities which were thus threatened on both sides were, however, prevented
by the approach of the Prussian monarch, Avho arrived in the neighbourhood ol
Leipsic Avith a large force, and averted the destruction of the city by bringing
on the celebrated battle of Rosbach, in which he was completely victorious.
Soon after this, marshal Keith marched into Bohemia Avith an army, and laid that
kingdom under contribution, having previously dislodged the Austrians from the
mountains of Saxony, Avhere they had been strongly posted. The brilliant
career, however, of this soldier of fortune Avas noAV about to close for ever ; the
death which became him aAvaited him, and Avas close at hand.

Frederick had taken up a position in the village of Hochkirchen, Avhich he
Avas particularly desirous of retaining, and Avhich the enemy Avere equally desir-
ous of possessing. The consequence Avas, that this point Avas attacked during the
night following its first occupation. On the first alarm of the enemy's motions,
marshal Keith mounted his horse, and hastily collecting Avhat troops Avere in his
immediate neighbourhood, marched tOAAards the village. On arriving there he
found it already in the hands of the enemy. Charging, hoAvever, at the head of
his troops, he drove them from the position. Fresh bodies of the enemy came up,
and the marshal Avas in turn forced to retire. Again he returned to the com-
bat, leading on his men, and cheering them as he advanced ; and again he
cleared the village of the enemy. Determined on possession of the position,
the latter once more returned Avith increased numbers, until latterly the Avhole
floAver of the Austrian army Avere concentrated on this sanguinary spot, defended
\>y a handful of Prussians. At eight o'clock in the morning, and Avhile the
combat Avas yet at the hottest, although it had noAv lasted several hours, the
marshal received a severe and dangerous Avound. He refused, hoAvever, to quit
the field, but continued to conduct the desperate encounter AAith unabated en-
thusiasm and gallantry. At nine o'clock, an hour after he had receiAcd his first
wound, a second shot passed through his breast, and instantly stretched him
lifeless on the ground. His body Avas stripped by the Austrians, Avho had noAv
driven the Prussians from the field, and Avas thus left exposed untU it Avas re-
cognized by count Lasci, Avho had been one of his pupils in the art of Avar.
That nobleman immediately gave orders for its interment'; but this having been
done Avith little reverence, it Avas shortly afterAvards taken up by the curate of
Hochkirchen, and again committed to the earth, AAith every mark of decency
and respect. The remains of the niai-shal Avere, by the special orders of the

301 HON. JAMES KEITH.

king, finally removed to Berlin, and buried there •with all the honours which fi
nation and a great nionarcli could pay to splendid talent and great moral
worth.

If any thing were wanting to complete the illustrious character of this great
ni.Tn, it is to be found in the ciicumstance of his death liaving been nearly as
mucli lamented by the Austrians, then the enemies of Prussia, as by the Prus-
sians themselves. His iiumanity was ever on the alert to protect even those
against whom he fought from any unnecessary violence, and the Austrians had,
in a thousand instances, been indebted to this ennobling trait in a character
admirably calculated in all its parts to gain the esteem and admiration of man-
kind. 3Iarshal Keith died in the sixty-third year of his age. He was never
married, but to whatever chance this \vas owing, it does not appear to have pro-
ceeded from any ^vant of susceptibility, for, while in Paris in 1718, on being
first urged by some of his friends to offer his services to the court of Spain,
whidi he was then informed meditated some designs on Sicily, he says, " But
I was then too much in love to think of quitting Paris, and, although my friends
forced me to take some steps towards it, yet I managed it so slowly, that I set
out only in the end of that year ; and had not my mistress and I quaiTeled, and
that other aftiiirs came to concern me more than the conquest of Sicily did, it's
probable I had lost many years of my time to very little purpose — so nmch was
I talcen up w ith my passion." Of the final result of this attachment we are not
informed ; but it does not appear that he ever formed'another.

Some years after his death, a monument was erected in the church-yard of
Ilochkirchen to the memory of the marshal, by his relative Sir Robert Mur-
ray Keith. It bore the following inscription, composed by the celebrated
3Ietastasio :

Jacobo Keith,

Gulielmi Comitis Marescelli Hered.

Hegni JScotise,

El Marife Drummond, Fiiio,

Fredt'iici Borussorum Ilegis

Summo Exercitus Praefecto;

Viro

Aiiliquis Moribus et Militari Virtute claro,

Qui,

Dum in prailio non procul liinc,

Inclin;it:im suorum aciem

Mente, Manu, Voce, et Exemplo

Restituebat,

Pugnans ut Heroas decet,

Occubuit,
Anno 1758, Mense Oct.

The earl IMarischal, elder brother of marshal Keith, also deserves some notice
in the present work, as an enlightened and distinguished man. Attainted for
his share in the insurrection of 1715, his fate continued for some time identi-
fied with that of his younger brother; till, in 1750, he was appointed by
Frederick II. of Prussia as ambassador extraordinary to the court of France.
He afterwards served the same sovereign as ambassador to the court of Spain,
and in tliis capacity had an opportunity of reconciling himself to his native
court. Having discovered the secret of the family compact, by \\hich the dif-
ferent princes of the house of Bourbon had bound themselves to assist each other,
lie communicated that important intelligence through Mr Pitt, to the British
government, to whom it was of the highest importance. The consequence was

ROBERT KEITH. 305

a paiiloii extended by tho king to earl INIr.rischnl, and an act of parliament to
enable liim to inlierit property in Great Britain.

After tliis happy event, lie proceeded to London, and was introduced to tlie
king (George II.) wlio received liiui very graciously. It afterwards was dis-
covered that, by this movement, lie escaped a very considerable danger, for
within thirty-six hours of his departure from IMadrid, notice was received by that
court of the communication he had made. The reconciliation of the earl to the
house of Brunswick appears to have given great otlence to the relics of the
Jacobite party, who, it is needless to mention, still retained all their pristine
antipathy to that family. Among the papers of bishop Forbes of Leith, is an
anecdote to the following effect : " It had been a constant practice in the parish
of Langside in Aberdeenshire, to have bonfires, and even to ring the parish
bell, on the 3nd of April, (). S., the birth-day of earl 3IarischaI. On Thui-sdav,
the 12th February, being a general fast throughout Scotland, when the bellman
was ringing the first bell, the news came to Langside, containing the accounts
of the earl Marischal having taken the oaths at London; and at that very in-
stant, the said bell rent from the top downwards, and then across near the
mouth, and that soon after the bell had begun to ring.

"A gentleman," continues this curious memorial, " w.alking in liis gra-den,
about a quarter of a mile from the church of Langside, asked a man passing
by, what the matter was witli the bell, in stopping so suddenly. The answer
being that she was rent, ' Well,' said the gentleman, * do you know what the bell
says by that? — even, the deil a cheep mair sail I speak for you, earl Mari-
schal r " '

The earl resided in Britain for several years, purchased back some of his
family property, and intended finally to settle for the remainder of his life in
Scotland. The king of Prussia, however, pressed him so warmly to return to
his dominions — saying, in one of his letters, " if I had a fleet, I would come
and carry you off by force," — that he once more became an exile from his na-
tive land. He spent the rest of his life in Prussia, in the most intimate terms
of friendship with its extraordinary monarch, and the enjoyment of every plea-
sure that a cultivated mind and a virtuous course of life can secure for mortals,
Frederick had discovered that the earl was sincerely attached to his person, and
he therefore bestowed upon him in return more of his own friendship than was
ever experienced by any other individual. The earl was also the friend and
correspondent of Hume, and other literary men of his own country, besides the
European literati in general. He died at Potsdam, BIny 23, 1778, in the 86th
year of liis age, — two days before Voltaire, who had nearly attained the same
age, expired at Paris. An " Eloge de IMy-lord Blarischal," by the celebrated
D'Alenibert, was published at Berlin in 1779.

KEITH, Robert, commonly called bishop Keith, an eminent scholar and anti-
quary,' was born at Uras in Kin.cardineshire, February 7, 1681, He was named
llobert after the viscount of Arbuthnot, who had been suckled by his mother.
His father, Alexander Keith, having died while he was only two years of age,
the care of his education devolved upon his mother, a most exemplary woman,
who spared no pains and no expense within the reach of a very limited income,
to inculcate those lessons of virtue and religion, and that knowledge of letters
Avhich afterwards procured her son so much honourable distinction.

The bishop seems to have entertained, during his whole life, a deep sense of
the obligations under which he lay to this amiable parent, and to liave taken
great pleasure in expressing ir. Though in but indifferent circumstances in the

1 Tho worthy bishop gives tliis anecdote as one related at his table by the celebrated 3.11
John Skinner, episcopal minister at Langside.

III. J Q

306 ROBERT KEITH.

early period of liis lite, he was yet closely related to one of the most ancient
and noble families in the kingdom, being lineally descended from Alexander,
tlie youngest son of William, third earl IMarischal.

Wlien he had attained the age of seven years, his mother removed with him
to Aberdeen, where ho obtained the earlier part of his education. In 1703, he
procured the situation of tutor to the young lord Keith and his brother, and in
this employment he remained till 1710, when he was admitted to the order of
deacons in the Scottish episcopal church, by Haliburton, (titular) bishop of
Aberdeen ; and in November following became domestic chaplain to Charles,
earl of Errol, and his mother, the countess. Two years after, he accompanied
his lordship to the batlis of Aix-la-Chapelle, and had thus an oppoi-tunity of
visiting some of the most celebrated towns and cities on the continent. Leaving
the earl at Aix-la-Chapelle, he returned to England and landed at Dover, where
he was compelled to remain for several months, in consequence of a severe illness,
brought on by exposure during a violent storm which he had encountered in cross-
ing the channel. On recovering sufficiently to enable him to undergo the fatigue
of travelling, he set out for Edinburgh, Avhere he arrived in February, 1713.
He was shortly after this invited by a congregation of Scottish episcopalians in
that city, to become their minister, and was accordingly raised to the priesthood
by bishop Haliburton, on the 2Gth May, in the year just named. His talents
and learning had already attracted some notice, and had procured for him a
considerable degree of influence in the church to which he belonged, and of
which he was always a steady, zealous, but rational supporter ; for, although
firmly attached to the faith in wlii(;h he was educated, he ^vas yet extremely
liberal and tolerant in his religious sentiments. In June, 1727, he was raised
to the episcopate, and was consecrated in Edinburgh by bishops Miller, Rattray,
and Gadderar. He Avas, at the same time, intrusted with the superintendence
of the district of Caithness, Orkney, and the Isles, and in 1733, was preferred
to that of Fife.

For upwards of twenty years after this period, bishop Keith continued to
exercise his duties in Edinburgh, filling a respectable, if not a dignified place in
society, and employing his leisure, it would appear, chiefly in the compilation of
those historical works which have transmitted his name to posterity. In a manu-
script memoir by 3Ir IMurray of Broughton, secretary to prince Charles Stuart —
which the present writer has perused — it is clearly signified that, previous to
the insurrection of 1745, the bishop corresponded on subjects relating to his
depressed and sufl'ering communion, with the court of the Pretender, and that
the latter personage, as the supposed head of a supposed church, gave the conge
cf' elire necessary for the election of individuals to exercise the episcopal oflice.

Tiie first historical work published by the bishop, appeared in 1734, in a
folio form, under the title of a " History of the Affairs of Church and State in
Scotland, from the beginning of the Reformation in tiie reign of James V., to
the retreat of queen Mary into England." Though tinged here and there with
high-church prejudices, the original narrative is a useful, and, upon the whole,
a candid record of a very controverted part of our history ; while the state docu-
ments quoted in the body of the work and at its close, have proved of incalcula-
ble service to every later writer upon the same subject. The list of subscribers
prefixed to this Avork is highly curious, as being an almost complete muster-roll
of the Jacobite nobility and gentry of the period : among the rest is the famous
Rob Roy. In 1755, the bishop published his well-known " Catalogue of Scot-
tish Bishops," which has also been a mine of valuable knowledge to later Amters.
The latter years of this venerable person appear to have been spent at a villa
called Bonnyhaugh, on the banks of the water of Leith, which belonged to

JAMES KENNEDY. 307

liiiMself. Here he died on the 20lli of January, 1757, in the seventy-sixth year
of his age. He was buried in the Canongate chuich-yard, a few feet fioui tlie
wall on tiie western side, wliere a plain tomb-stone, inscribed simply with his
name, has recently been erected.

Besides his eminent qualifications as an historian and antiquary, the subject
of this notice possessed tiiose of an acute and pains-taking- genealogist, a
study to whicli he was probably directed by the high value which he always
attached to the dignity of his own descent, and which he was at much pains
to establish. An instance of his tenacity in this particular, and of his pecu-
liar talent for genealogical research, was exliibiled in a dispute into which he
entered with Mr Keith of Ilavelstone, on the subject of the comparative prox-
imity of their several families to the house of the earls IMarischal.

On that occasion he printed a *' Vindication of Mr Robert Keith, and of his
young grand-nephew Alexander Keith, fx'om the unfriendly representation of
Mr Alexander Keith, jun. of Itavelston." In this vindication he not only suc-
ceeded in establishing his superior claims to the particulai- honour in dispute,
but showed that he was also related to the duites of Douglas and Hamilton.
His reason for being at so mucli pains in vindicating the nobility of his descent,
is thus spoken of in the document above alluded to : " For although he hini-
himself, (he speaks in the tliird person,) now in the close of the seventieth year
of his age, and having only one daughter, might be pretty indifferent about any
thing of this nature, yet he suspects his young grand-nephews, (for there are no
less than three of them, Alexander, Robert, and John,) when they came of age,
might reproach the memory of their uncle, and justly perhaps, for his not endea-
vouring to set their birth at right against so flagrant an attack, seeing the one
was capable, and the others might not have the same means of knowing, or the
same abilities to perform it."

The good bishop seems to have been no hoarder of money, for at his death lie
left only £450, while his colleague and assistant, died worth £3000.

KENNEDY, James, bishop of St Andrews, was the younger of the two sons
of James Kennedy of Dunure, and his wife, the countess of Angus, daughter of
Robert III. king of Scotland. He was born about the year 1405 or 1406.
The earlier part of his education he received at home, under the eye of his mo-
ther, and was afterwards, agreeably to the practice of the times, sent abroad to
complete it. Being early destined to the churcli, the only road to preferment at
that period, and the only profession, besides, worthy his dignified descent, he
devoted himself to the study particularly of theology and the canon law ; but, be-
sides his acquirements in these departments of knowledge, he made a singular pro-
ficiency in the langu.-vges and other branches of learning, and was altogether
looked upon as by far the most accomplished prelate of his day.

On his entering into holy orders, he was preferred (1437) by his uncle James
I. to the see of Dunkeld. The goid bishop Avas no sooner installed in his office
than he set assiduously to work to reform abuses in the church, and to compel
his vicai-s and parsons to a faithful discharge of their duties. He enjoined them
to remain in their parishes, and to instruct their parishioners in the knowledge
of religion, to preach to tliera regularly, and to visit, comfort, and encourage the
side He himself visited all the churches witliin his diocese four times every
year, preaching in eacli of them as he went along. On these occasions he never
failed to inquire of the people if they were duly instructed by their pastors ;
if they had no complaints against them ; whether their poor were properly
cared for ; and if their youth were brought up in tlie fear of God. Such were
the pious labours of this excellent man at the outset of his career, and he never
deviated from them durincf the whole of a lou<v and active after-life. Finding

308 JAMES KENNEDY.

his own auihoriiy iusiirticieiit tu ennblo liiiii to accomplish all the good uhich he
was desirous of doing, in reforming tiie abuses whicli had crept into the church,
ho went over to Florence to procure additional powers for this purpose from the
pope, Eugenius IN'. On this occasion his holiness, .ns a mark of his esteem for
the worthy prelate, bestowed Tipou him the commendam of the abbacy of Leone.

On the death of Wardlaw, bishop of 6t Andrews, an event which happened on
Gth April, 1-iiO, Kennedy was chosen as his successor in that see; and to this
new and more important charge, he brought all that activity and anxiety to do
good which had distinguished him while he iilled the bishopric of Dunkeld. lie
continued iiis etforls to reform the manners and practice of the clergy, and in
144(3, set out on a second journey to Italy, to consult with and obtain the co-op-
eration of the pope in his work of reformation. On this occasion he was accom-
panied by a train of thirty persons ; for though moderate and temperate in all his
pursuits and enjoyments, he was yet of an exceedingly liberal and generous dis-
position, and a scrupulous maintainer of the dignity of the sacred office «hich
he held, and he had sufficient penetration to discover how much of this, as of all
hmnan dignities, depends upon extrinsic aids. His dislike of turbulence and
anarchy, and his constant elforts to reconcile differences where they existed, and
to discountenance oppression, and to restrain illegal power, rendered him pecu-
liarly obnoxious to the house of Douglas, whicli, during the minority of James
II., had nearly accomplished the total overthrow of the hereditary royalty of
Scotland. In revenge of the part he took in restraining the power of that
ambitious family, his lands were plundered by the earl of Crawford and Alexan-
der Ogilvie of Inveraritie, at the instigation of the earl of Douglas, \s\\o had
farther instructed them to seize, if possible, the person of the bishi p, and to put
him in irons. This fate he avoided by confining himself to his castle, the only
mode of resistance which he thought consistent with his sacred character as a
minister of religion, lie was, however, eventually the means of reducing the
power of the Douglases within limits more consistent with the peace and safety
of the kingdom. James II., almost driven from his throne by the increasing
insolence and iniiuence of the chief of that house, went in despair to St Andrews,
to seek the counsel and advice of its able and amiable bishop. On the prince
and prelate meeting-, the former laid beibre him the desperate situation to which
the growing power and daring effrontery of the earl of Douglas had reduced
him. He informed him that he had learned that Douglas was mustering a large
army either to dethrone him or di-ive liim from the country ; that he knew no
means of resisting him, and was utterly at a loss what steps to take in this emer-
gency. " Sir," replied the bishop, perceiving that the disconsolate king was
exhausted with fatigue as well as depressed in spirits, " I entreat your grace to
partake, in the mean time, of some refi'eshment, and ^vllile ye do so, 1 will pass
into my chamber and pray to God for you and the connuonwealth of this realm."

On retiring, as he had proposed, the good bishop fervently implored the
interference of the Almighty in behalf of the unhappy prince, who, friendless
and distracted, had sought his coiaisel and advice; and when the king had
finished his repast, he came forth, and taking him by the hand, led him into the
apartment in which he himself had been praying, and there they both knelt
down and besought the guidance and assistance of Him who directs all things, —
a scene than which it would not probably be easy to conceive anything more
striking or interesting.

When they had concluded tlieir devotions, the bishop proceeded to point out to
the king such a mode of procedure as he deemed the most suitable to the circum-
stances. He advised the monarch inmiediatoly to issue proclamations, calling
upon his subjects in the north to muster around his standard, which he after\\ards

JOHN ICER. 309

erected at St Andrews, and still more wisely, and as the issue showed, with a still
better effect, proposed his offering pardon to all who, having previously attached
themselves to the earl of Douglas, Avould now abandon his cause, and aid tiiat of
the kino-. The consetjuence was, that James soon found himself at the head of
forty thousand men. The final muster took place at Stirling, and a battle, which
was to decide \vhether a Douglas or a Stuart was to be king of Scotland, appeared
to be at hand; for tlie former with an equal force was at that moment encamped
on the soutii side of the Carron. But, while in the very act of advancing with
his army to encounter the forces of the king, Douglas detected the effects of the
amnesty proclaimed by James by the advice of tiie bishop of St Andrews. A
spirit of disaffection and indications of doubt and wavering appeared in his
ranks. Alarmed by these symptoms, he maixhed his army back to their encamp-
ment, hoping to restore their confidence in him by the following day, when he
pi-oposed again to march forth .Tgainst the enemy. The result, however, was
directly the reverse of what he had anticipated. The feeling which he expected
to subdue, in place of subsiding, gained ground ; so that in the morning, there
were not a hundred men remaining of all Douglas's host. Finding himself
thus suddenly deserted, the earl instantly fled ; and in this manner fell the over-
grown power of the house of Douglas, — a circumstance mainly, if not entirely
attributable to the wisdom and energy of the bishop of St Andre\\s.

On the death of James II., bishop Kennedy was intrusted with the charge and
education of his son, afterwards James III., then about seven years of age. His
known wisdom, pi-udence, and integrity, pointed him out as the fittest person
for this important duty, and on the same ground there was added to it a large
shai'e in the management of public afl'airs during the regency of the queen-
mother. He had acquired an authority in the .kingdom by the mere influence
of his character, which few had ever attained by adventitious circumstances, and
which no churchman had at any time before enjoyed ; and he A\as thus enabled to
accomplish more amongst a rude and barbarous people, than Avould have been
yielded to the mere force of power or rank. The consequence was, that an unusual
quietness and prosperity pervaded the whole kingdom during his administration.
He enjoyed the confidence and good-will of all parties, and was no less esteemed
for his probity, humanity, and wisdom, than admired for the splendour of his
abilities; and so highly Avas his character appreciated, and so universal tiie satisfac-
tion whicii his government aflbrded, that the chief management of public affairs
was still left in his hands even after the death of the queen-mother, and remained
with him until his own death, which took place on the 10th of May, 1 1(JG, an
event which was widely and sincerely deplored.

Bishop Kennedy was not less remarkable for his munificence than for the
other splendid qualities which composed his character. He founded the college
at St Andrews, called St Salvator's, in honour of our Saviour, and endowed it
with a fund for the maintenance of a provost, four regents, and eight poor scho-
lars, or bursars, at an expense of about ten thousand pounds. He built a ship,
which was afterwards known by the name of the Bishop's Barge, at a similar
cost, and his tomb is said to have been equally expensive witli the two former.
In 1144, 'he was appointed chancellor of the kingdom, but this office he
resigned in a few weeks afterwards, because he found it interfered w'nh those
projects for doing good in his clerical capacity, which he had resolved to follow
out from the beginning of his career. He Avas, by his own desire, interred in
the collegiate church of St Andrews,' where his tomb is still shown, along with
several silver maces which were found in it some years ago.

KER, JoH.v, third duke of Roxburgh, distinguished by his eminent bibliogra-
phical knowledge, and his extensive and valuable collection of books, was bom

310 JOHN KER,

in Hanover Square, London, on the 23d April, 1740. He was the eldest sou
of Robert, the second duke, by Essex >lostyn, daughter of Sir Roger 3Iostyn,
of IMostyn, in Kentsliire, baronet. In 1755, he succeeded his father in the
dukedom, to uhich was attarlied tlie British peerage of earl and barun Ker of
Wakefield ; and he appeai-s to liave soon after proceeded upon his travels on the
continent. It is stated tliat, wliile in Germany, he formed an attachment to
Christiana Sophia Albertina, eldest daughter of the duke of 31ecklenburg
Strelitz, and that their nuptials would have taken place, had not her sister
Charlotte, just at that time, been espoused by the king of Great Britain. Eti-
quette then interfered, to prevent what would otherwise have been an equal and
proper match, it being deemed improper that the elder should become the sub-
ject of the younger sister. Both parlies, however, evinced the strength of their
attachment, by devoting their after-lives to celibacy. It seems to have been to
this event that Sir Walter Scott alludes, \Nhen he says of the duke ■} " Youthful
misfortunes, of a kind against which neither wealth nor rank possess a talisman,
cast an early shade of gloom over his prospects, and gave to one splendidly
endowed whh the means of enjoying society, that degree of reserved melancholy,
which preiers retirement to the splendid scenes of gayety." To whatever extent
George III. might be the innocent cause of his grace's misfortune, it does not
appear to have, in the least, marred a strong friendship which existed between
them — "a tie of rare occurrence," Sir Walter Scott justly observes, " between
prince and subject." In 1767, his grace was appointed a lord of the bed-cham-
ber, and next year was invested A\ith the order of the thistle. The former hon-
our gave him a title to be much about the court ; but lie never farther engaged
himself in a public career.

The taste which his grace imbibed to so extraordinary an extent for book-
collecting, is stated by Sir Walter to have originated in an accidental circum-
stance. " Lord Oxford and lord Sunderland, both famous collectors of the time,
dined one day at the house of the second duke of Roxburgh, when their conver-
sation happened to turn upon the editio princeps of Boccaccio, printed at Venice
in 1471, and so rare that its vei-y existence was doubted of. The duke was
himself no collector, but it happened that a copy of this very book had parsed
under his eye, and been offered to him for sale at a hundred guineas, then
thought an inunense price. It was, therefore, with complete assurance that he
undertook to produce to the connoisseurs a copy of the treasure in question, and
did so at the lime appointed, with no small triumph. His son, then marquis of
Beaumont, never forgot the little scene upon this occasion, and used to ascribe
to it the strong passion which he ever afterwards felt for rare books and editions,
and which rendered him one of the most assiduous and judicious collectors that
ever formed a sumptuous library."

There can be no doubt, at tlie same time, that the duke chanced to possess
that pei-severance of character and genuine literary taste, without which such an
impulse as this must have been of no avail. ** Sylvan amusements," sajs Sir A\ al-
ter, " occupied the more active part of liis time when in Scotland ; and in book-
collecting, while residing in London, he displayed a degree of patience whicii has
rarely been equalled, and never excelled. It could scarcely be said, whether
the duke of lioxb'.rgh's assiduity and eagerness Avere most remarkable, A\hen he
lay for hours together, tliotigh the snow was falling at the time, beside some
lovely spring in the Cheviot hills, where he expei'ted the precarious chance of
shooting a wild goose, when the dawning should break; or when he toiled for
hours, nay, for days, collecting and verifying his edition of the Black Acts, or
Caxton's Boke of Troy."

' Quarterly Review, xliv, 446.

JOHN KEK. 311

With the cx-coption of sinjjiil.'iily fortunate adventures in the profnrincr of old
books, the duke's life passed on in an almost unvaried tenor, in the pursuits just
alluded to. At his seat of Fleurs in Scotland, where he spent but a small por-
tion of his time, he had a proportionately small library ; but at his house in
St James's Square, London, where he chiefly resided, he, in time, amassed the
most valuable ])rivate library in the country. In 17'JG,he was appointed groom
of the stable, and initiated a privy councillor, and in 1801 was honoured with
the garter, which he was permitted to bear along with the thistle, a mark of
honour conferred on no other subject since 1712, when the duke of Hamilton
had the same distinction from queen Anne." For upwards of forty years, he
continued his book-collecting habits without intermission, being much aided
during a great part of the time by 3Ir Gi. Nichol, bookseller to the king, whose
services towards the excellent library collected by George III., and afterwards
given by George IV. to the nation, were also very eminent. At length, on the
19th of 3Iarch, 1804, the duke died of inflammation in the liver, at his house
in London, in the 64th year of his age. He Avas buried at Bowden, near 3Iel-
rose.

His library, at his death, consisted of upwards of ten thousand distinct
articles, many of them of the gx'eatest rarity and of high value, though it was
understood that in many cases he bad purchased them at comparatively low prices.
It would be vain to pretend that liis grace had made or could make a good use of
such a vast mass of literature, much of it of an obsolete kind; yet, neither can
there be any doubt that he read much of what he purchased, and seemed, upon
the whole, to aim rather at gratifying an innate taste for letters, and a devout
and worshipful regard for their brightest ornaments, than either for the pride of
possessing so many curiosities, or the usual antiquarian appreciation of minute
peculiarities in the externe of books.

Early English literature and the Table Ronde had been the chief objects of
his research. Of the former he possessed not only the rarest, but, in point of
condition, the most beautiful specimens in existence. He idolized the talents of
Shakspeare and Cervantes, and collected every thing that could illustrate their
works. Fifteen different editions of Shakspeare's complete works, with seventy-
five separate plays in different editions, and fourteen distinct works respecting
this great dramatic author, are to be found in the catalogue. In the poetical
department of early English literature, he had a great collection ; in which the
most curious article was a very large assortment of ancient ballads and fugitive
pieces of poetry in three volumes folio, which had been first formed for the
library of the earl of Oxford, afterwards enlarged by major Pearson and 3Ir Isaac
Ueid, then increased to a great extent by the duke himself, and which brought,
at the sale, no less than four hundred and seventy-seven pounds, fifteen shillin<vs.
The duke had also collected many ancient manuscripts, some of them splendidly
illuminated; and it is mentioned, that he read these with great facility, as was
testified by various remarks which he wrote upon them with his own hand.
He had the largest and finest collection of the books printed by Caxton, in
England. At his death he was in full pursuit of the English dramatic authors;
and when the large collection he possessed is taken into account, along with the
comparative briefness of the time during which he had directed his attention
this way, his industry seems prodigious. He had an uncommon quantity of
books and tracts relative to criminals, detections of witches, and other impostors.
Mr Nichol, in the preface to the catalogue, says, " he had a particular pleasure

* No man could have borno these honours with more grace than the duke of Roxburgh,
whose " lofty presence and felicitous address," accc^rding to Sir Walter Scott, " recalled the
ideas of a court in which lord Chesterfield might have acted as master of the ceremonits."

312 JOHN KER.

in exercising tiiose ilisciiniiiiatiii" jtoweis nliidi he so eminently possessed, in
tracing out the images by wliich the perverted ingenuity of the human niiud
often attempts to impose upon tlie creduiiiy of its fellow creatures."

This splendid library was, after a long and distressing delay from litigation,
brouglit to sale, in ^lay, 1812 ; an event which may he said to have created
more sensation than any other connected with literature during the present
century — tiie disclosure of the Waverley secret alone excepted. JMr Uibdin, in
his Bibliographical Decameron, has given an account of the proceedings, under
the metaphorical semblance of a battle among the bibliomaniacs. He calls it
THE Roxburgh fight ; and to this record we must be indebted for the account of
a transaction which it would be improper to overlook in this memoir.

" It would seem," says this facetious writer, " as if the year of our Lord
1811, was destined, in the annals of the book auctions, to be calm and quiescent,
as a prelude and contrast to the tremendous explosion or contest which, in the
succeeding year, Avas to rend asunder the bibliomaniacal elements. It is well
known that iMr George Nichol had long prepared the catalogue of that extraor-
dinary collection ; and a sort of avant-courier or picquet guard preceded the
march of the whole army, in the shape of a preface, piuvately circulated among
the ffiends of the author. The publication of a certain work, ycleped the
Bibliomania, had also probably stirred up the metal and hardened the sinews or
the contending book-knights. At length the hour of battle arrived. * * *
For two-and-forly successive days — with the exception only of Sundays — ^vas
the voice and hammer of IMr Evans heard, with equal efficacy, in the dining-
room of the late duke, which b.ad been appropriated to the vendition of the
books ; and \vithin that same space (some thirty-five feet by twenty,) were such
deeds of valour performed, and such feats of book-heroism achieved, as had
never been previously beheld : and of which the like will probably never bo
seen .igain. Tiie shouts of the victors and the groans of the vanquished, stunned
and appalled you as you entered. . The throng and press, both of idle spectators
and determined bidders, Avas unprecedented. A sprinkling of Caxtons and De
Wordes marked the first day ; and these were obtained at high, but compara-
tively with the subsequent sums given, moderate prices. Theology, jurispru-
dence, philosoj)hy, and philology, chiefly marked the earlier days of this tre-
mendous contest : and occasionally, during these days, there was much stirring
up of courage, and many hard and heavy blows Avere interchanged ; and the
combatants may be said to have completely wallowed themselves in the conflict!
At length came poetry, Latin, Italian, and French ; a steady fight yet continued
to be fought : victory seemed to hang in doubtful scales — sometimes on the one,
sometimes on the other side of JMr Evans — who preserved throughout, (as it was
his bounden duty to preserve,) a uniform, impartial, and steady course ; and who
may be said, on that occasion, if not to have ' rode the whirlwind,' at least to
have ' dirL'cted the storm.' At length came English poetry ! ! and with that
came the tug and trial of war : Greek met Greek: in other words, grandee was
opposed to grandee ; and'the indomitable Atticus was compelled to retire, stunned
by the repeated blows upon his helmet. The lance dropped from his hand, and
a swimming darkness occasionally skimmed his view — for on that day, the
Waterloo among book-battles, many a knight came far and wide from his retire-
ment, and many an unfledged combatant left liis father's rastic to partake of the
glory of such a contest. Among tliese knights fronj a ' far couiitreo' no one
shot liis arrows with a more deadly effect than Astiachus! IJut it was reserved
for Romulus to reap the greatest victories in that poetic contest! He fought with
a choice body-guard ; and the combatants seemed amazed at the perseverance
and energy with which that body-guard dealt their death-bl(;ws around them!

JOHN KER. 313

" Dramatic Poetry followed ; Avliat might be styled rare and early pieces con-
nected wilh our ancient poetry ; but tlie combat now took a more tranquil turn :
as after * a smart brush' for an early Shakspeare or two, Atticus and Corio-
lanus, ^vith a few well known dnimatic aspirants, obtained almost unmolested
possession of the field.

" At this period, to keep up our important metaphor, the great lloxburgli
dap of battle had been some\vhere half gone through, or decided. Theie was
no disposition, however, on either side to relax from former eflbrts ; when ([ii'C-
pare for something terrific !) tlie liomauces made their appearance ; and just at
this crisis it was that more blood was epilt, and mure ferocity exhibited, than had
ever been previouslywitnessed,"

We interrupt 31r Dibdin to mention, th.at the great How of the day was
struck for that volume which has been already alluded to, as purchased by the
duke's father for a hundred guineas, — a volume of singular value, which Mr
Tuchol very properly intitlcs the most notorious in existence — the Decameron of
Eoccaccio, printed (folio) by Christopher Valdarfer at Venice in 1471, and
supposed to be quite unique. " Mr Nichol, in his avant-courier of a preface,"
thus writes 3Ir Dibdin in a note, " iiad not a little provoked the bibliomaniacal
appetites of his readers ; telling them that * in the class of Italian poets and
novelists was the first edition of II Decamerone di Boccaccio, 1471. This was
certainly one of the scarcest, if not the very scarcest book, that existed. It has
now for upwards of 300 years preserved its uniquity, if that term be allowa-
ble.' It Avas also previously kuo'.vn that this very book had been a sort of bone
of contention among the collectors in the reign of the two first Georges. Lord
Sunderland had seen it, and lord Uxtbrd had cast a longing eye thereupon ; but
it was reserved for an ancestor of the duke of Roxburgh to secure it- — for the
gallant price of 100 guineas! This purchase took place before the year 1740.
* * I have a perfect recollection of this notorious volume, \vliile in the lib-
rary of the late duke. It had a faded yellow morocco binding, and was a sound
rather than a fine copy. The expectations formed of the probable price for
which it would be sold were excessive ; yet not so excessive as the price itself
turned out to be. The marked champions were pretty well known beforehand
to be the earl Spencer, the marquis of Blandford (now duke of IMarlboi'Ough),
and the duke of Devonshire. Such a rencontre, such a ' shock of fight,'
naturally begot uncommon curiosity. My friends, Sir Egcrton Bridges, Mr Lang,
and IMr G. H. Freeling, did me the kindness to breakfast ^vith me on the morn-
ing of the sale — and upon the conclusion of the repast. Sir I'lgerton's carriage
conveyed us from Kensington to St James's Square.

The moiuing lowered

;\nd heavily with clouds c;mie on Ihe da) —
Big with the fate of . . . and of ... .

In fact the rain fell in torrents, as we lighted from the carriage and rushed w ith
a sort of impetuosity to gain seats to view the contest. The room was cro^vded
to excess ; and a sudden darkness which came across gave rather an additional
interest to the scene. At length the moment of sale arrived. Evans prefaced
the putting up of the article by an appropriate oration, in which he expatiated
upon its excessive rarity, and concluded by informing the company of the re-
gret and even 'anguish of heart' expressed by Sir Van Tract [librarian to tlie
emperor Napoleon] that such a treasure was not to be found in the imperial col-
lection at Paris. Silence followed the address of Mr Evans. On liis right hand,
leaning against the wall, stood earl Spencer: a little lower down, and standing
at right ajigles with his lordship, appeared the marquis of Blandford. Lord Al-

314 JOHN KER.

thorp stood a little backward to the right of his father, earl Spencer. Such was
' the ground taken up ' by the adverse hoslfi. Tlie liouour of firing tlie first
shut was due to a gentleman of Sliropsiiire, unused to this species of \\arfare,
and ^^ho seemed to lecoil from the reverberation of the report himself liad
made ! — ' One hundred guineas,' he extlaimedi Again a pause ensued ; but
anon the biddings rose rapidly to 500 guineas. Hitherto, however, it was evi-
dent that the firing was but masked and desultory. At length all random shots
ceased ; and the champions before named stood gallantly up to each other, re-
solving not to Hindi from a trial of their respet live strengths.

" ' A tJiousand guineas ' were bid by earl Spencer — to which the maitjuis added
' ten.^ You might have heard a pin drop. All eyes were turned — all breathing
well nigh slopped — every sword was put home A\iihin its scabbard — and not a
piece of steel was seen to move or to glitter, except that which each of these
champions brandished in his valorous hand. See, see I — they jwrry, they lunge,
they bet : yet their strength is undiminished, and no thought of yielding is en-
tertained by either. Two thousand pounds are offered by the marciuis. Then
it was that earl Spencer, as a prudent general, began to think of a useless ef-
fusion of blood and expenditure of ammunition — seeing that his adversary was
as resolute and ' fresh ' as at the onset. For a quarter of a minute he paused :
when my lord Alihorp advanced one step forward, as if to supply his father with
another spear for the purpose of renewing the contest. His countenance was
marked by a fixed determination to gain the prize — if prudence, in its most
commanding form, and with a frown of unusual intensity of expression, had
not bade him desist. The father and son for a few seconds converse apart ; and
the biddings are resumed. ' Two tliousand two hundred and fifty ■pounds'' said
lord Spencer ! The spectators were now absolutely electrified. The marquis
quietly adds his usual ' ten^ * * and there is an end of the contest. BIr
Evans, ere his hammer fell made a due pause — and indeed, as if by something
preternatural, the ebony instrument itself seemed to be charmed or suspended
' in the mid aii-.' However, at length, down dropped the hammer. * # *
The spectators," continues Mr Dibdiu in his text, " stood aghast ! and the
sound of -Mr Evans' prostrate sceptre of dominion reached, and resounded from,
the utmost shores of Italy. The echo of that fallen hammer was heard in the
libraries of Rome, of 3Iilan, and St JMark. Boccaccio himself started from his
slumber of some five hundi-ed years ; and 3IrVan I'raet rushed, but rushed in vain,
amidst the royal book-treasures at Paris to see if a copy of the said I'aldarfer
Boccaccio could there be found! The price electrified the bystanders, and as-
tounded the public ! ^

" What boots it to recount minutely the various achievements which marked
the conclusion of the Roxburgh contest, or to describe in the manner of
Sterne, the melancholy devastations which followed that deathless day? The
battle languished towards its termination [rather, we suspect, from a failure of
anuuunition than of valour or spirit on the part of the combatants] ; but iiotwitli-
sLinding, there was oftentimes a disposition manifested to resume the glories of
the earlier part of the day — and to show that the spirit of bibliomania was not
made of poor and perishable stuff. Illustrious be the names of the book-
heroes, who both conquered and fell dui-ing the tremendous conflict just de-

' The marquis's triumph was marked by a plaudit of hands, and presently afier he ofiFered
his liaiid to lord Spcnctr, sajiiig, " AVe aru good friends still !" His lordsJiip replied, " Per-
fectl}', indeed I am obliged to )ou." " So am I to )ou," siiid the marquis ; '',so the obligation
is mutual." He declared tliat it was hi» intention to have gone as far ;is £50C0. The noble
marquis had previously possessed a copy of the same edition, wanting five leaves; " forwhicli
five leaves," lord S. remarked, " he might be said to have given £2600." ,

JOHN KER. - 315

scribed! And let it be said, tliat John duke of Roxburgh both deserved well of
his country and the book cause."

Mr Dibdin gives nmny other instructive particulars respecting this sale. Ho
mentions that the duke's library occupied a range of apartments in the second
floor of liis house ; and in a room adjoining, and into ubich the library opened,
" slept and died" the illustrious collector himself. " All his migrations," says
Mr Dibdin, " were confined to these two rooms. When Mr Nichol showed me
the very bed upon uhicli this bibliomaniacal duke had expired, I felt — as I trust
I ought to have felt, upon the occasion !" He also informs us that a gentleman
who bought many articles was generally understood to be an agent of the em-
peror Napoleon, but at last turned out to have been a secret emissary of the
duke of Devonshire. A letter which he received from Sir Walter Scott on the
occasion of this sale, is too characteristic to be omitted. " The Koxburgh sale,"
says the author of Marniion, " sets my teeth on edge. Eut if 1 can trust mine
eyes, there are now twelve masons at work on a cottage and offices at this little
farm, which I purchased last year. Item, 1 have planted thirty acres, and am
in the act of walling a garden. Item, I have a wife and four bairns crying,
as our old song has it, ' porridge ever mair.' So, on the whole, ray teeth must
get off the edge, as those of the fox with the grapes in the fable. AbboUford,
by Melrose, 3rd May, 1812."

It would be improper, in a memoir of the duke of Roxburgh, to omit a circum-
stance so honourable to his name as the formation of the society called the " Rox-
bui-gh." *' The number of noblemen and gentlemen,'' says Sir AValter Scott,*
" distinguished by their taste for this species of literature, who assembled there
[at the sale] from day to day, and lamented or boasted the event of the compe-
tition, was unexampled ; and in short the concourse of attendants tenninated in
the formation of a society of about thirty amateurs, having the learned and ami-
able earl Spencer at their head, who agreed to constitute a club, which should
have for its object of union the common love of rare and curious volumes, and
should be distinguished by the name of that nobleman, at the dispersion of whose
library the proposal had taken its rise, and who had been personally known to
most of the members. We are not sure whether the publication of rare tracts
was an original object of their friendly re-union, or, if it was not, how and ^hen
it came to be engrafted thereupon. Early, however, after the formation of the
Roxburgh Club, it became one of its rules, that each member should present
the society, at such time as he might find most convenient, with an edition of a
curious manuscript, or the reprint of some ancient tract, tlie selection being left
at the pleasure of the individual himself. These books wei-e to be printed in a
handsome manner, and uniformly, and were to be distributed among the gen-
tlemen of the club. * * * * Under this system, the Roxburgh Club has
proceeded and flourished for many years, and produced upwards of forty re-
prints of scarce and curious tracts, among which many are highly interesting, not
only from their value, but also their intrinsic merit."

It remains only to be added, that this association has been the model of
several others in different parts of the world. We are a^vare, at least, of La So-
ciete des Eiblioglyphes in Paris, and the Bannatyne, Maitland, and Abbotsford
Clubs in our ovvn country. Such institutions show that a taste for literary an-
tiquities is extending amongst us ; yet it must also be stated, that the desire of
formino libi-aries such as that of the duke of Roxburgh is much on the decline,
and that if his grace's stock had been brought to the hanmier in our own day,
it would have neither created the sensation which it did create, nor brought such
" astounding" prices.

* Quarterl}' Review, xliv. 417.

316 ROBERT KER.

KKli, IJoBERT, enrl of Ancriim, n nobleman of literary accomplishment, and
the direct niicestor of the inescnt noble family <>f Lothian, was descended from
a third son of Sir Andrew Ker of Ferniehurst, and entered public life as laird of
Ancrum in Roxburghshire, lie was born about the year 1578, and succeeded
to the family estate in IS'JO, on the death of iiis father, who was assassinated by
his kinsman, Robert Ker, younger of { essford. lie was cousin to the famous,
or rather infamous Robert Ker, tiie favourite of James ^'I., and who was raised
by that prince to the title of earl of Somerset. 'Ihe subject of this memoir
appears to have also been honoured, at an early period of life, with court favour.
Soon after the king's accession to the English throne, he is observed to occupy
a considerable station in the household of prince Henry, Avhich was, perhaps,
n)ore splendid, and consisted of more persons than the present royal household.
He afterwards was employed about the person of prince Charles, who became
his patron through life. By the mediation of this prince, a match was effected
between Sir Robei-t and the lady Anne Stanley, daugliter of the earl of Derby.

In 1G20, Sir Robert was involved in a fatal quarrel by a young man named
Charles 3Iaxwell, who insulted him, ^\ilhout the least provocation, as he was
entering the palace at Newmarket. In a duel, which followed. Sir Robert
killed his antagonist ; and, although the friends of the deceased are said to have
acquitted him of all blame, so strict were the rules established by the king for
the prevention and punishment of duels, that lie was obliged to fly to Holland,
where he remained about a year. During his exile, he employed himself in the
collection of pictures, for which, like his royal master, he had a good taste :
those which he brought with him on his return, were eventually presented to
the prince. He Avas also distinguished by his literary taste. In Drumiuond's
works there are a letter and sonnet which he addressed, in 1G24, to that poet,
and which breathe an amiable and contemplative spirit. The latter is as
follows :

A SONNET IN PRAISE OF A SOLITARY LIFE.

Sweet solitary lift- ! lovely, dumb jo}-,

That need'st no warnings how to grow more wise
By other men's mish;ips, nor the annoy

Which from sore wi oiigs done to one's self doth rise.
Tlie morning's Second numsiuii, trutli's fust friend,

Never acquiiinted with the woild's vain broil«,
Wiiere the whole day to our own use we spend.

And our dear time no fierce ambition spoils.
ZMost happy state, that never takest revenge

For injuries received, nor dost fear
TJie court's great earthquake, the grieved truth of ch;nig.>.

Nor none of falsehood's savoury lies dost hear;
Nor knows hope's sweet disease that charms our sense,

Nor its sad cure — dear-bought experience'.

R. K. A.

On the accession of Charles to the throne, in 1G25, Sir Robert Ker was one
of the friends who experienced liis favour. He was in that year constituted a
gentleman of the bed-chamber, and in June, 1033, Aviien the king was in Scot-
land at his coronation, he was elevated to the peeiage, under the title of earl
of Ancrum. Previous to this period, liis son V\ illiam, by his first wife Eliza-
beth, daugliter of Sir John Wuiray of Riackbarony, had married his relative,
Anne, countess cf Lothian in her oivn right, and had been, by the king, en-

ROBERT KERR. 317

dowed with a full participation of that title. It was therefore arranged, in the
patent granted to the subject of this memoir, that his o\vn title should dc3ccnd
to the children of his second marriage. He thus enjoyed the singular honour
of being fatiier of two peers.

Unliite niany other persons who owed every thing to this prince, the carl of
Ancrum continued his steady adherent during the whole of his troubles ; though
he was unable to prevent his eldest son, t!ie earl of Lothian, from acting one of
the most conspicuous parts on the opposite side. On the death of Charles, his
lordship took refuge in Holland, where he spent the reniainder of his days in
solitary afflictions and poverty, and died in lG5t, in the seventy-sixth year of
]iis age. His title was inherited by his son Charles, but ultimately merged in
that of Lothian. In Park's edition of Walpole's Koyal and Noble Authors, there
is a beautiful portrait of his lordship, assigning him a thoughtful and strongly-
marked countenance, and apparently done in old age.

KEKR, KoBERT, a miscellaneous writer, was born in the year 1755.^ lie
was the son of 3Ir James Kerr of Bughtridge, jeweller in Edinburgh, convener
of the trades and 31. P. for the city, which honours he iield at the same time,'
by Elizabeth, daughter of lord Charles Kerr, second son of Robert, first marquis
of Lothian. iMr Kerr was educated at the High school and university of Edin-
burgh ; and having qualified himself to act as a surgeon, entered into business as
partner with an aged practitioner named Wardrope, whose daughter he subsequent-
ly married. He had the misfortune to be very lame in one of his limbs, which
caused him to sink greatly to one side in walking. His first literary effort was a
translation of Lavoisier's Elements of Chemistry, published in 1789, in which year
he also gave to the world a version of Berthollet's Essay on the New Method of
Bleaching by means of Muriatic Acid and Oxygen. The approbation with which
these publications were received, induced him to commence a translation of
Linnasus's Zoological System ; two volumes of which were published, (Ito) in
1792, but which did not meet with so much success as to tempt him to proceed
Avith the rest. Having failed with the dry classifications of the Swedish philo-
sopher, he commenced a translation of the more popular work of Buffon on Ovi-
parous Quadrupeds and Serpents, the first volume of which appeared in 1793,
and the fourth and last in 1800. The execution of these translations was high-
ly extolled in the reviews of the time, and caused Mr Kerr to be respectfully
known in the world of letters.

The political predilections of this gentleman being decidedly whiggish, lie
published in 1794, a pamphlet, entitled " A Vindication of the Friends of Free-
dom from the aspersion of Disloyalty ;" being designed, as its name imports, to
prove that the liberality of his party was not inconsistent with a steady attach-

1 The exact place of his birth is not known ; but it was a mansion in Roxburghshire, near
the Cheviot hills, where his mother happened to be on a visit at the time. The usual resi-
dence of liis parents was, in Edinl)urgh.

2 An intimate friend of Mr Robert Kerr^supplies us with the following information re-
specting his fatJier : —

" Mr James Kerr was the son of a jeweller in the Parliament Square, Edinbuigh, wliose
shop was attached to the walls of the old cathedral of St Giles ; the first on the right hand in
going into the square. The lunise occupiedby this person was a mere cellar under the shop,
and partly projecting below tlie adjacent pavement, from which its sole light was derived by
means of a grating. In consequence of the famil)', which was very numerous, being brought
up in this miserable and unliealtliy hovel, they aU died in infanc)', except the father of the au-
tlior, whose life was siived by his being removed to more roomy accommodations on the oppo-
site side of the square. ]\Ir James Kerr was the last citizen who had the honour to represent
the city in parliament. It may be mentioned that he was one of the jury on the famous trial
of Carnegie of Finhavin, for the murder of the earl of Strathmore in 1728 ,when, through the
pei-suasive eloquence of the first lord president Dundas, then at the bai-, and counsel for the
prisoner, the jury recognized the liberty of Scotland, by resuming the right to judge not only
of the naked fact, but of the fact and the law conjunctive!} ."

318 WILLIAM KTKKALDY.

ment to the existing monarchical form of gorernment The prevailing tone of
his mind was politii:al, and he used to argue on topics vhich interested hira with
great ardour and even enthusiasm, insomuch that he often appeared sutJering
from passion when he was not.

In the year 1794, 3Ir Kerr was induced to embark his fortune, which was
not inconsiderable, in the pur.hase and management of a paper-mill at Ayton
in Berwickshire. The speculation, after a trial of several years, turned out un-
fortunately, r.nd reduced hira in the latter part of lix'a to circiunstances very ia-
eonsistent with his merits, either as a man or ns an author. These circum-
rtances, however, renewed his exertions in literature, after they had been long
intermitted. In ISO'J, he published a General View of the Agriculture of Ber-
wickshire, and in 1811, Memoirs of Mr William Smellie, and a History of Scot-
land during the reisTi of Robert Bi-uce,both of which last were in two volumes oc-
tavo. About the same time, he conducted through the press, for 3Ir Black-
ly ood, a fieneml Collection of Voyages and Travels, in eighteen volumes octavo.
The memoirs of !Mr Smellie, though di«proportior.ed to the subject, contain much
valuable literarj- anecdote. 3Ir Kerr's last work was a translation of Cuvier's
Essay on the Theory of the Earth, which was published in 1615 (after his death),
wth an introduction and notes by professor Jamieson. The event just alluded
to took place on the llih of October, 1S13, when he was about fifty-eight years
of age. He left one son, a captain in the navy, and two daughters, both of whom
were niarrietl.

3Ir Kerr ivas a kind and warm-hearted man, liberal and honourable in his
dealings, possessed of extensive information, and in every respect an ornament
to society.

KIRKALDY, William, one of the earliest converts to the protestant faith in
Scotland, and a brave and accomplished man, was the eldest son of Sir James
Kirkaldy of Grange, high treasurer to James V. of Scotland.^ Of the period of
his birth and the method of his education we have been unable to discover any
satisfactorj- information : but like the greater number o{ the Scottish barons at
that time, he seems to have chosen, or to have been devoted by his parents, to
the profession of arms. At the death of James, his father seems to have lost his
situation in the government : yet with a view of procuring that nobleman's assis-
tance to the cause of protestantism, he was one of the most active assistants in
raisinj Arran to the regency" : but in the hope he had formed, he was to a con-
siderable extent disappointed.

Young Grange, as well as his father, had embraced the principles of the Refor-
mation : and his first appearance in the historic page is as one of the conspira-
tors against the persecutor, cardinal David Beaton. The circumstances of this
renowned conspiracy have already been commemorated in these pages. The
conspiratcrs having, by an act which cannot be justified, avenged the death of
the martyr Wishart by assassinating his murderer, shut themselves up in the
castle of St Andrews, which they held for several months, and only surrendered,
after being besieged by a French force, in the end of July or the beginning
of August, 1546. It •was stipulated that the lives of all that were in the
castle should be spared ; that they should be transported to France, whence,
if they did not choose to continue in that cotmtry, they were to be transported
to whatever other country they chose, Scotland excepted. The victors,
however, did not find it necessary or convenient to attend to the terms
of the stipulation ; the greater part of the garrison were sent to the gal-

1 The ticts in thia article are in general taken from the memoir of Kirkaldy of Grar.ge by
Mr Graham Dalyell, a gentleman who has been so minute in his investigations that it would
be difiicult to find a &ct of importance omitted by him.

■WILLIAM KIRKALDY. 319

leys, and the leaders immured in different dungeons. Norman Leslie, Peter
Carmichael, and tlie subject of this memoir, \vere impi-isoned in 31ount St
Michael, where they lay a considerable time. From this place lliey urote a let-
ter to John Knox, ulio was in the galleys, asking the somewhat superfluous ques-
tion whether ihey miglit not with a good conscience break their prison. To this
Knox naturally answered in the aflirmative, with the proviso, that they were not
morally entitled to shed blood in the attempt.

Embracing the opportunity of a festival night, uhen the garrison uere intoxi-
cated, they bound every man in the caslle, locked the doors, and departed, hav-
ing, it is said, strictly adhered to the humane recommendation of Knox. 'I'he
two Leslies came to Kohan, and speedily escaped ; but Kirkakly and Peter Car-
michael, disguised as beggai-s, wandered through the country for upwards of a
quarter of a year ; at the termination of which period they got on board a French
ship, which landed tliem in the west of Scotland, whence they found their way
into England.

Kirkaldy appears to have spent a considerable portion of the ensuing period
of his life in Franco, where he entered tiie army, and was distinguished as a
brave and skilful soldier in tiie wars between the French king and the emperor
Charles V. Sir James IMelville informs us, that in these wars he commanded a
hundred light liorsemen ; and for his useful services, received the commendation
of the duke of Vondome, the prince of Conde, and the duke of Aumale. Henry
II., he adds, used to point him out and say, " Yonder is one of the most
valiant men of our age." Ileniy indeed seems to have used him with the most
endearing familiarity, and in all the pastimes which he attended, is said to have
chosen Grange as a supporter of his own side, in their mimic battles; while,
according to the same writer, who is always circumstantial in recording the honours
paid to a Scotsman, the great constable of France Avould never speak to him
uncovered. We are not aware of the exact date of his return to Scotland, but
we find him in that country in the year 1559.

During the border wars of this period, an incident occurred peculiarly char-
acteristic of the chivalrous temper of Kirkaldy, which is otherwise remai-kable as
being the latest "passage of arms" which has been handed down tons, de-
scribed with all the minute " pomp and circumstance " of Froissart. Lindsay of
Pitscottie, Avho describes the circumstance, tells us, that lord Evevs's brother de-
sired to fight with Kirkaldy '' ane singular combatt upone hoi'seback witli
speares." Sir William was " very weill content " with such a species of amuse-
ment, and consented to meet the challenger on any spot he might prefer. The
lord Evers's brother was attended by the governor of Berwick and his whole gar-
i-ison, while Kirkakly was waited on by " Monscor Doswell (Mons. d' Oswell?),
the king of France lieftennent," with the garrison of Heymouth, and other Scot-
tish gentlemen. In bringing the opposing armies so near each other, and
within view of example so seducing, it was necessary to " decerne under paine
of treasoun, that no man should come near the championes, be the space of ane
flight shot." Each of the champions had a squire to bear his spear, there were-
two trumpeters to sound the charge, and after the most approved method, two
lords were appointed as judges of the field, " to sie the matter finished." " And
when all things war put to ordour, and the championes horsed, and their speirs
in their hands, then the trumpeters sounded, and the heralds cryed, and the judges
let them go, and they ran together very furiously on both sides, bot the laird
of Grange ran his adversar, the Inglisman, throw his shoulder blaid, and aff his
hors, and was woundit deadlie, and in perill of his lyff; but quhidder he died
or lived I cannot tell," bot the laird of Grange wan the victorie that day."
^ Lindsay of Pitscottie, i:. 521.

320 AYILLTAM KIRKALDY.

KirkalJy became after this incident actively engaged in the cause of the Re-
formation. When the French troops aixived to subdue Scotland, and by means
of the popish f;;ction reduce it to a province of Trance, no man stood liimer to
the interests of his country, and in the first encounter he is said to have slain
the first man with his own hand. To the I'rench, «lio vere aware of his
bravery and military skill, he was particularly obnoxious, and in one of their
inroads throuirh I'ifc they razed his house of Grange to the foundation. Natu-
rally exasperated at such an art, Kirkaldy sent a defiance to the French com-
mander; reproached him for his barbarity, and reminded him of the many
Frenchmen \\hom he liad saved when engaged in quaiTels not his own. The
commander, less chivalrous than Grange, paid no regard to the communication ;
and the latter took vengeance by waylaying a party of marauders, and cutting
tliem otf to a man. During this invasion of Fife by the French, he liad
a mere handi'ul of men, and these were but poorly provided, yet he retarded the
powerful and well-appointed troops of France at every village and at every
field, disputing as it were, every inch of ground, and making them purchase at
a ruinous price every advantage.

In common with all the wise and good among his countrymen, Kirkaldy was
convinced of the danger of the French alliance, and of the far superior advan-
tages which might be derived from a connexion with England, uhich by a bar
barous and ignorant policy had been always overlooked or despised, and he
contributed materially to the formation of that friendship which subsisted be-
tween the ministers cf Elizabeth and the Scottish reformei^s, without which, it
may be doubted if the refunuation of that country could have been effected. In
the contests that arose between 3Iary and her subjects, while it must be admitted
that his cciTCspondence with the English was clandestine, contrary to the law,
and not perhaps dictated by njotives quite purely patriotic, he steadily adhered
to the popular cause. Kirkaldy was among the number of the adherents of
Moray, who on the temporary success of the queen, were compelled in 15G5,
to talve refuge or " banish themselves " in England, and the criminal record
shows us some instances of barbarous punishment denounced on those who had in-
tercoui-se with them, as " intercommuning ^vith rebels."'^

When after her unhappy maiTiage and flight to Dunbar, she retui-ned with
an army to meet the lords \A\o had entered into a confederation for the preser-
vation of the prince. Grange Avas one of the most active and influential among
them, having the command of t^vo hundred hoi-se, with A\hich he intended at
Carberry hill, by a stratagem, to have seized upon the earl of Euihwell, which
he hoped would have been the means of putting an end to the contest between
the queen and her subjects. The queen, however, \\ho highly respected him,
perceiving the approach of the troop, and understanding that he was their
leader, requested to speak with him, \\hich prevented the attempt being made.
While he \vas in this conference with the queen, Bothwell called forth a soldier
to shoot him, who was in the very act of taking aim,A\hen the queen perceiving
iiim, gave a sudden scream, and exclaimed to Bothwell, that he surely would
not disgrace her so far as to murder a man who stood under her protection.
With that frank honesty which was natural to him, Kirkaldy told her that it
was of absolute necessity, if she ever expected to enjoy the services and the con-
fidence of her subjects, that she should abandon Bulhwell, ^^ho was the murderer
of her husband, and who could never be a husband to her, having been so
lately nian-ied to the sister of the earl of Huntly. Bothwell, who stood near
enough to overhear part of this colloquy, offered to vindicate himself by single
combat, from the charge of any one who should accuse him of murdering the
'^ Pitcaim's Crira. Trials, i. (p.i.) 46G, 479.

WILLIAM KIRKALDY. 321

king. Grange told him he should have a speedy answer ; and retui-iiing to the
lords, found little dilliculty in persuading them of the propriety of his accepting
the challenge, which he did without hesitation. Ijotliwell, however, thought it
prudent to decline, on the plea that Kirkaldy being only a baron, was not his
equal. To the laird of Tullibardiue he objected on the same ground. The
lord Lindsay then came forward, whom he could not refuse on the score of in-
equality ; but he finally declined to engage. The queen then sent again for
Grange, and proposed surrendering herself to the lords. Eothweli, in the mean
time, made his escape. The queen holding out her hand, Kirkaldy kissed it,
and taking her horse by the bridle turned him about, and led her down the hill.
This was almost the full measure of Alary's humiliation, which was accomplished
by her entry into Edinburgh amidst the execrations of the rabble. The lords,
(particularly Kirkaldy) were still Milling to treat her with kindness, if she could
have been prevailed on to abandon liothwell. The same night, liowever, she
wrote a letter to him, calling him " her dear heart, whom she should never for-
get nor abandon, though she was under the necessity of being absent from him
for a time ;" adding, that she had sent him away only for his own safety, and
willing him to be comforted, and to be watchful and take care of himself. This
letter falling into the hands of the lords, convinced tliem that lier passion for
Bothwell was incurable ; and they determined to secure her in Lochleven.
Grange alone wished to excuse her, and hoped that gentle usage might yet re-
claim her ; but they showed him her letter to Bothwell which had fallen into
their hands, which left him no room to speak more on her behalf. The queen,
in the mean time, sent him a letter, lamenting her hard usage, and complaining
of broken promises. He wrote to her in return, stating what he had already at-
tempted in her behalf, and how his mouth had been stopped by her letter to Both-
well ; " marvelling tliat her majesty considered not that the said earl could
never be her lawful husband, being so lately before married to another,
Avi'.om he had deserted witliout any just ground, even though he had not been
so hated for the murder of the king lier husband. He therefore requested her
to dismiss him entirely from her mind, seeing otherwise that she could never
obtain the love or respect of her subjects, nor have that obedience paid her which
otherwise she might expect."

His letter contained many other loving and humble admonitions which made
her bitterly to weep. Eager to free the queen and the nation of Bothwell,
Grange most willingly accepted the command of two small vessels that had been
fitted up from Morton's private purse (for Bothwell had not left a sufficient sum
for the purpose in the Scottish treasury), with which he set sail towards Ork-
ney, whither it was reported Bothwell had fled. He was accompanied by the
laird of TuUibardine and Adam Bothwell, bishop of Orkney. Bothwell having
made his escape from Orkney, was pursued by Grange to the coast of Norway,
\vhere, at the moment when they had almost overtaken the fugitive, the impetu-
osity of Kirkaldy, mIio called on the mariners to hoist more sail than the vessel
was able to carry, lost them their prize, and they Avere wrecked on a sand bank.
Bothwell escaped in a small boat to the shore, leaving his ship and his servants
a prey to Kii-kaldy. This unhappy man fled to Denmark, and the method of
his end is too Mell known to be repeated.

The regent IMoray was in the mean time establishing order and tranquillity
generally through the country. The king, an infant, had been crowned at
Stirling, and his authority in the person of the regent very generally acknow-
ledged, Avhen the queen, making her escape from Lochleven, and putting her-
self into the hands of the Hamiltons, created new and serious calamities. The
regent being at that time in Glasgow, holding his justice-eyi'e, was just

m. 2 g

322 ^Y1LLIA3I KIRKALDY.

at hand, and meeting \\h\\ lue queen and Jier followera at Langside, on the way
for Dumbarton castle, gave Uiem, though lliey were far more in number tlian all
the king's friends that lie could muster, an entire overthrow. The regent led
the battle himself, assisted by Grange, who being an experienced soldier, was
appointed to oversee the uhole battle ; to ride to every ^ving, and to encourage
and make help >\berever it was most required. The dispositions of the regent
were excellent, and his follo«ei-s behaved with great courage ; so tliat tlie vic-
tory was soon won, and there being few horsemen to pursue, and the regent
calling out to save and not to kill, there were not many taken or killed ; tho
greatest slaushter, according to Sir James I\Ielville, being at the fu-st rencounter
by the sliot of some troops that were planted behind the dykes at the head of
the lane leading up to the viUage.

Having taken the command of the castle of Edinburgh from Sir James Bal-
four, the regent bestowed it upon Grange, who appeai-s to have had the prin-
cipal direction of affairs during the time that 3Ioray through the intrigues of the
queen's faction was called up to the conferences at Yorlc Lethington, subtile,
restless, and changeable, had by thii time changed to the queen's side, whom
he almost openly owned during the time of these conferences, and he had im-
posed upon the unsuspecting disposition of Grange, enticing him into a kind of
doubtful neutrality, which had an unhappy influence upon Uie public cause,
and ended fatally for Grange himself. Lethington and Sir James Balfour hav-
ing been both at last aiTested under an accusation of having been concerned in
the king's murder, Grange took them into his own liands, and protected them
in the castle, which he refused to deliver up to the regent On the murder of
the regent 3Ioray in 1570, it did not immediately appear wliat party Gi-ange
would embrace. It was e>ident, however, that for some time previous to this
event he had leaned to the side of the queen, and tlie castle of Edinburgh in a
short time became the resoi-t and general rendezvous of all who opposed the
ptUly of the prince.

Ihe earl of Lennox succeeding to the regency was supported by Elizabeth,
who sent an army into Scotland for that purpose, and to retaliate upon some of
the border chieftains, who had made inroads into the English territories, paili-
cularly Buccleugh and Fernihurst. Grange, in the mean time, by the orders
of the queen's faction, who now assembled parliaments of their o\ui, liberated
all those who had been formerly given him in charge as prisoners, for their op-
position to the king in the person of the regent These, dispersing themselves
over the country, some pretending to be employed in a civil, and others in a
military capacity, carried dissension and rebellion along with them, to the entire
ruin of the miserable inhabitants. Lord Seaton, to intimidate the citizens of
Edinburgh, >\ho in general leaned to the side of the king, assembled his vassals
at Holyrood house, while the Hamiltons, with the whole strength of tiieir fac-
tion, assembled at Linlithgow, when they made a sudden and unexpected attack
upon the castle of Glasgow, the residence of Lennox the regent. Coming upon
the place by surprise, they gained the court, and set fue to the great haU ; but
they were soon repulsed, and ilie approach of the king's army, a principal part
of which was English, compelled them to raise the siege. The Hamiltons suf-
fered most severely on this occasion, their lands iu Clydesdale being ravaged,
Cadzow plundered, and the town of Hamilton, with the seat of the Hamiltons,
burned to the ground. Nor did tliis suflice ; they also biu-ned the house of
the duke of Chatelherault in Linlithgow, the palace of Kinnoul, the house of
Pardovan, and Bynie, Kincavil, aiid the chapel of Livingston,

Grange, meanwhile, acting somewhat dubiously, and not supporting the ex-
treme measures of either of the parties, was confounded to see a foreign foe in

■WILLIAM KIRKALDY. 323

the heart of the kingdom, and >Lary's friends used with such extreme rijrnur;
and afraid of being- entrapped himself, began to fortify the castle with all haste,
and lay in every thing necessary for a siege. Lennox, in tiie mean time, sism-
moned an army in the king's name to attend him, with twenty days' provision,,
and to complete his equipments, he applied to (irange for s(mie field-pieces.
The request was, however, refused, under a pretence that he would not be a<;ces-
sory to the shedding of blood. The purpose of this armament was to interfere
witli a parliament which the queen's party intended to have held at Linlithgow,
which it effectually accomplished ; and on the following month (October) Len-
nox held one for the king in Edinburgh. The insignia of royalty being sup-
posed necessary to the legality of parliaments, they were demanded from Grange,
who llatly refused them, and from that time forth he was regarded ns determin-
edly hostile to that cause for which he had done and suffered so much. Through
the mediation of Elizabeth, however, uho was at the time amusing ^lary and
her friends Avith proposals for restoring her to some part of her authority, a ces-
sation of hostilities was agreed upon for two months, which being renewed, was
continued till the succeeding April, 1571.

The trace, however, Avas not strictly observed by either of the pnrties. For-
tresses were taken and retaken on both sides oftener than once, and in the
month of April, Dumbarton castle, reckoned impregnable, was taken by surprise
by the friends of the regent, who, on a sentence of forfaulture in absence, hanged
Hamilton, archbishop of St Andrews, Avho had taken refuge in the place.
Alarmed at the fate of Dumbarton, Grange repaired the avails of the castle, cut
away all the prominences on the rock, and smoothed the banks to prevent the
possibility of an escalade. He also prepared the steeple of St Giles for receiving
a battery, and carried away the ordnance belonging to the town. His brother
James at the same time arrived from France with " ten thousand crowns of gold,
?ome murrions, coi-slets, hagbuts, and wine, whilk was saiflie convoyit from
Leyth be the horsemen and soldiers of the town." All men who favoured not
the queen were now commanded to leave the town, and even his old tried friend
and fellow sufferer, John Knox, was obliged to quit his place, which was supplied
by Alexander, bishop of Galloway. Tiie regent's soldiers, however, took pos-
session of some ruinous houses close to the walls, Avhence tliey annoyed the
town. There was now an end to all business ; public worship ceased, and
there was nothing to be heard but the thundering of artillery. The queen's
party had now, however, the pride of also holding a parliament in Edinburgh,
which declared the demission of Mary null ; forbade any innovation to be made
in the presbyterian religion ; and after two or three hours deliberation, rode in
procession from the Canongate to the castle, having the regalia borne before it.
Prayers for the queen were ordered by this meeting, and all who omitted them
were forbidden to preach. During these proceedings, there were daily skirmishes
on the streets, and the regent still kept possession of Holyrood house. In the
month of August in this year, an envoy arrived from the king of Fi-ance, with
money, arms, and ammunition for Grange ; but the money fell into the hands of
the regent. In the ensuing month, Grange laid a jilan for seizing (he regent at
Stirling, and bringing him safe to the castle, which failed of success only through
the imprudence of those who conducted it, Tiie regent was a<tualiy made a
prisoner, and on the road for I'ldinburgh, when, principally through the valour
of Morton, he Avas rescued, but shot by one of tiie parly, A\hen they saw they
could not carry him away. David Spens of W ormiston, who had him in charge,
and used every endeavour to save him, Avas also shot in revenge, though the
Avounded regent attempted to protect him. This Avas unfortunate for Grange
Mar Avas immediately elected regent ; a man of far higher merit, and much

324 "SVILLIAM KIRKALDY.

more icspectetl than Lennox, and in still greater favour with the luinisiers of Eliza-
beth; and he in the end proved too strong for the misled, though patriotic Grange.
The Mar now assumed the most ferocious character. 31orton destroyed the whole
of Grange's property in Fife. Grange, on the same day retaliated by burning
Dalkeith ; and for upwards of two nuinths they reciprocally hanged their prisoners.

'ihe distress of the town and the surrounding districts now became extreme ;
the poor were turned without the gates, and the empty houses pulled down and
sold for fuel ; a stone weight being sold for what would purchase a peck of
meal. Through the mediation of the English and French ambassadors, an ar-
mistice was at last agreed to, and all the dill'erences between Blorton and Grange
nearly made up. Through the intrigues of 3Iaitland, however, ivho had gained
an extraordinary influence over him, Grange rose in his demands, and
nothing was accomplished further than a renewal of the truce. In the mean
time 3]ar, who was a sincere, good man, and ti-uly devoted to the public in-
terests, died, and was succeeded by Morton, a man of great address, and the
mortal enemy of Maitland. He too, however, professed to desire peace, and
offered the same terms as I\Iar. Grange was to deliver up the castle in six
months, and a convention was called to consider the means of efl^ecting a
double peace. Both parties were at the same time attempting to over-reach each
other. IMorton thirsted for the wealthy estates of some of the queen's adherents ;
and the queen's adherents wanted to gain time, in the hope of procuring effectual
aid from France. The llamiltons, Huntly, Argyle, and their followers, were
now ^veary of the war; and in a meeting at Perth accepted of the terms offered
by IMorton, and, according to Sir James Melville, abandoned Grange, who
would willingly have accepted the same terms ; but from that time forth ]Morton
would not permit the offers to be mentioned to him. The day of the truce had
no sooner expired than a furious cannonade was commenced by Grange on
the town from the castle. He also shortly after, on a stormy night, set fire to
the town, and kept firing upon it to prevent any person coming forth to extin-
guish the flames ; a piece of wanton mischief, which procured him nothing but an
additional share of odium. Being invested by the marshal of Berwick, Sir William
Drury, with an English army, the garrison was soon reduced to great straits.
Their water was scanty at best, and the falling of one of the chief towers choked
up their only well. The Spur, a building of great strength, but imperfectly
manned, was taken by storm, with the loss of eight killed, and twenty-three
wounded. Sir Robert Melville, along with Grange, were, after beating a par-
ley, let over the walls by ropes, for the gate was choked up with rubbish.
They demanded security for their lives and fortunes, and that IMaitland and
lord Hume might go to England, Grange being permitted to go or stay as he
might deem best. These conditions not being granted, they returned to the
garrison, but their soldiers refused to stand a new assault, and threatened in
case of another that they would hang Lethington, whom they regarded as the
cause of their protracted defence, over the wall. Nothing remained, therefore,
but an unconditional suri-ender; and so odious were the garrison to the citizens,
that an escort of English soldiers was necessary to protect them from the rabble.
After three days they Avere all made prisoners. Lethington died suddenly,
through means, it lias been supposed, of poison, which he had taken of his own
accord. Grange, Sir James Kirkaldy, (his brother,) James IMossman and James
Leckie, goldsmiths, were hanged on the third of August, 1573, and tlieir heads
afterwards set up on the most prominent places of the castle wall.

Thus ignominously died one of the bravest warriors* of his age ; the dupe of

* In the casii of Kirkaldy there appears to have been considerable debate on the re-
levai'cy of tlie indictment on which he wus tried, too technical to be interesting to the general
reader. — Pitcairn's Crini. Trials, ii. 3.

JAMES KIRKWOOD.— JOHN KNOX. 325

a volatile antl crafty statesman, and of his own vanity to be head of a party.
He had been one of the earliest friends, and, during its first days of peril, one
of the most intrepid defenderi of the Keformation, Knox, mIio knew and loved
him well, lamented his apostasy, and with that sagacity wliich ^as peculiar to his
character, admonished him of the issue. " That man's soul is dear to me," said
Knox, " and I would not willingly see it perish; go and tell him from me, that,
if he persists in his folly, neither that crag in which he miserably confides, nor
the carnal wit of that man whom he counts a demi-god, shall save him ; but he
shall be dragged forth, and hanged in the face of the sun." lie returned a
contemptuous answer dictated by Maitland ; but lie remembered the warning
Avhen on the scaffold with tears, and listened with eagerness when he was told
tlie hope that Knox always expressed, that, though the work of grace npon his
heart A\as sadly obscured, it ^vas still real, and would approve itself so at last;
of which he expressed with gi-eat humility his own sincere conviction.

KIRKWOOD, James, an eminent teacher and writer on grammar, in the lat-
ter part of the seventeenth century, was born near Dunbar. The circumstances
of his education ai-e unknown ; he was first schoolmaster of Linlithgow, and sub-
sequently of Kelso. His school at Linlithgow was ore of considerable reputation,
and he would appear to have been intrusted, like many teachers of the present
day, with pupils who boarded in his house. The celebrated John, second earl
of Stair, was thus educated by him. The first work ascertained to have been
published by him, was an " Easy Grammar" of the Latin language, which ap-
peared at Glasgow in 1074. In 1G77, he published at London an octavo fas-
ciculus of " Sentences," for the use of learners. In the succeeding year ap-
peared his " Compendium of Rhetoric," to which was added a small treatise on
Analysis. After the Revolution, he -was sent for by the parliamentary commis-
sioners for colleges, on the motion of lord president Stair; and his advice
was taken about the best Latin grammar for the Scottish schools. The lord
president asked him what he thought of Despauter. He answered, " A very un-
fit grammar ; but by some pains it might be made a good one." The lord Cross-
rig desiring him to be more plain on this point, he said, " iMy lord president,
if its superfluities were rescinded, the defects supplied, the intricacies cleared,
the errors rectified, and the method amended, it might pass for an excellent
grammar." The lord president afterwards sent for him, and told him it was the
desire of the commissioners that he should immediately reform Despauter, as he
had proposed ; as they knew none fitter for tiie task. He according published,
in 1G95, a revised edition of Despauter, which continued to be commonly used
in schools till it was superseded by Ruddiman's Rudiments. Kirkwood «as a
man of wit and fancy, as well as of learning; and having fallen into an unfor-
tunate quarrel with his patrons the magistrates, which ended in his dismission,
he took revenge by publishing a satirical pamphlet, entitled " The twenty-seven
gods of Linlithgow," meaning thereby the twenty-seven members of the town-
council. He appears to have afterwards been chosen schooln;aster at Kelso,
where he probably died.

KJsOX, John, the most eminent promoter of the Reformation in Scotland,
was born at Haddington in the year 1505. His father, though himself a man
of no note, was descended from the ancient house of Ranfurly in the shire of
Renfrew. Of the mother of the great refonner nothing farther is known than
that her name was Sinclair, — a name which he frequently used in after-lite, when
to have subscribed his own would have exposed him to danger : thus many of
his letters in times of trouble are signed "John Sinclair." Though a man of
no rank in society, his father would yet seem to have been possessed of a com.
petency beyond that of the ordinary class of the peasantry of the times, if sucli
an inference be permitted from the circumstrjice of his having given his son an

326 JOHN KNOX.

education uhich was tlien attainable only by a very few. This is a point, Iiow-
ever, on which there has been also much dispute ; some representing his parents
as in a "mean coiulition," others as persons of extensive property. Wliatever
niay have been thd condition of iiis parents — a matter of little moment — there
is no doubt regarding the only circiimstan<;e of any importance connected >vith
the question, namely, that he received a liberal education.

His course of learning began at the grammar-school of Haddington, where he
acquired the elements of the Latin language. He was afterwards, about the year
I52i, sent to the university of St Andrews. From tlie circumstance of the name
" John Knox" appearing on the list of matriculated students, for the year 1 520,
in the (.ilasgow college, it has been presumed that he studied there also, and
this, as appears by the dates, four years previous to his going to St Andrews ;
but the supposition that this John Knox \vas the reformer, is much weakened by
the fiict, that many of the Knoxes of Eanfurly, the house from which his father
was descended, were educated at the university of dlasgow. Amongst the last
of these of any note were Andrew Knox, bishop of the Isles, and, after him, his
son and successor. Sir Thomas Knox. In the absence, therefore, of all other
evidence, this circumstance in the life of the reformer must be held as extremely
doubtful, especially as no allusion is made to it, either by himself, his contempo-
raries, or any of the earlier writers who have spoken of him. Knox, when he
went to St Andrews, was in the nineteenth year of his age, and \\as yet undis-
tinguished by any indications of that peculiar character and temper, or that
talent, which afterwards made him so conspicuous. His literary pursuits had
hitherto been limited to the acquisition of the Latin language, Greek and
Hebrew being almost unknown in Scotland, althougli at an after period of life
Knox acquired them both. His removal to St Andrews, ho^vever, opened up
new sources of learning and of knowledge. John Mair, a celebrated doctor of
the Sorbonne, who had studied at the colleges of England and Paris, was then
principal of St Salvator's college, St Andrews. He was a man of no great
strength of mind, nor of very high attainments ; but he had while in Paris
imbibed, and he now boldly inculcated, civil and religious principles directly at
variance with the opinions and practices of the times. He denied the supremacy
of the pope, and held that he ^vas amenable to a general council, ■which might
not only rebuke and restrain him, but even depose him from his dignity. He
held that papal exconnnunications were of no force, unless pronounced on just
and valid grounds, and that tithes were not of divine origin. He, besides,
fearlessly censured the avarice and ambition of the clergy. And with regard to
civil matters, his opinions were no less daring, and not less boldly incidcated.
He taught his pupils to consider kings as having no other right to their eleva-
tion, but what proceeded from their people, to whom they were amenable for
their conduct, and by whom they might be judicially proceeded against. Such
Avere some of the doctrines taught by ^lair ; and that they had taken a strong hold
of Knox, who was one of his pupils, his after life sufficiently shoAvs. For we
find him, with the courage which belonged to his character, practising himself,
and showing others how to practise that which his preceptor only taught.

In the studies of the times, Knox now made rapid progress. He was created
master of arts, and ordained a priest before he had attained the age (twenty-five)
appointed by the canon law for receiving ordination. It will not, perhaps, be
lost time to pause for a moment at this period of his life, since it presents us
with the interesting sight of a groat mind slumbering in its strength, and
unconscious at once of tiie darkness with which it wns surrounded, and of there
being a brighter and a better world beyond the narrow precincts which it had
been taujrht to consider as the utmost limits of its range. Here we find the

JOUN KNOX. 327

great reformer, passively, and without remark or objection, becomirig a minister
of that church which lie was afterwards to overturn and erase from his native
soil ; becoming a minister of that religion which he was afterwards to drive from
the land, with a violence \\hich shook both the kingdom and the throne. A
little longer, however, and wc find this mighty mind emerging gradually but
majestically into the light of day. The discovery had been made that there lay
a wider and a fairer region beyond the bounds of the prison-house, and Knox
hastened himself to seek and to point out the way to others.

He soon betook himself to the study of the writings of the fatliers of the
Christian church ; and, in the works of Jerome and Augustine, found the doctrines
and tenets which ert'ected that revolution in his religious sentiments, after-
wards productive of such important results. He was now in the thirtieth year
of his age, but he did not either publicly avow the change which had tiiken place
in his religious creed, or attempt to impress it upon others, for several years after-
wards. In the mean time the work of reformation had been making in-egular
but rapid progress. Patrick Hamilton had already preached the new faith in
Scotland, and had fallen a martyr to its doctrines, and many others of not less
zeal, but of less note, had shared a similar fate. Copies of the Scriptures were now
suri-eptiiiously inti-oduced into the kingdom, and eagerly read by those into ^\hose
hands they fell. Poets employed their fascinating powers in bringing the church
of Rome and its ministers into contempt. The effect of all this was a violent
agitation of the public mind. The reformed doctrines were every where spoken
of and discussed. They became the topics of common conversation, and were
the themes of disquisition amongst the learned. It ivas at this critical period,
about the year 1542, in the midst of this feverish excitement of public opinion,
that Knox first stepped into the arena as a combatant in the cause of the new
faith. He was still a teacher of philosophy in the college of St Andrews, but
he availed himself of the opportunities which this appointment afforded, of dis-
seminating his doctrines amongst his pupils, whom he taught to look with abhor-
rence and contempt on the coiTuptions and errors of the Komish church. Though
such opinions were now spreading Avidely, and were made matter of ordinary
discussion, their abettors were not yet, by any means, safe from the vengeance
of the Eomish ecclesiastics, >\ho were yet struggling hard to suppress the
heresies ^vhich were eveiy where springing up in the land, and threatening the
speedy ruin of their church. Knox's case was too marked and too conspicuous
an instance of defection, to escape for any length of time some proof of that
wrath which it was so well calculated to excite. He was degraded from the
priesthood, had sentence passed against him as a heretic, and only escaped assas-
sination by flying from St Andre^^s, that fate having been marked out for him by
cardinal Beaton. On leaving St Andrews, Knox found protection in the family
of Douglas of Langniddrie, where he acted in the capacity of tutor. Here,
Douglas himself being a zealous advocate for the new faith, Knox continued to
preach the doctrines \\hich had driven him from St Andrews ; and in these
doctrines he not only instructed the family with which he lived, but also the
people in the neighbourhood, •s\hom he invited to attend his prelections. From
the consequences Mhich must infallibly have attended this perseverance in dis-
seminating principles so inimical to the church, Knox \\as only saved by the
death of cardinal Beaton, who was assassinated in the castle of St Andrews, on
the 29th of 3Iay, 154G. Though, by the death of Beaton, Knox probably
escaped the utmost severities which prelacy could intlict ; he yet did not escape
all visitation from its wrath.

John Hamilton, the successor of Beaton, sought his destruction with as much
eagerness as his predecessor had done, compelling him to flee from place to place,

328 JOHN KNOX.

rir;d to seek liis safety in concealment. Apprehensive of falling- at last into the
hands of his enemies, lie, after having led a vagrant and miserable life for many
months, at lengtii sought an asylum in the castle of St Andrews, whicii had been
in the possession of the cardinal's assassins since the period of his death, and
which they had held out against repeated attempts of the carl of Arran, then
regent of Scotland, to take it. Knox entered tiie castle of St AndrcAvs at the time
of Easter, I5t7. This step he had been prevailed upon to take by two of his
warmest friends, the lairds of Langniddrie and Ormiston, at a time ivlien he had
hhnself determined to retire to Germany.

The circumstance of Knox's having taken shelter, on this occasion, with the
assassins of Beaton, has given rise to reflections on his character, involving
charges of the most serious nature. Some of them ai-c wholly unfounded, others
unreasonable. He has been accused of being one of the conspirators who pro-
jected the death of Eeaton ; which is totally unsupported by any evidence,
and nmst, therefox'e, in common justice, be utterly rejected. He has been said
to have made himself accessory to the crime of the cardinal's murder by taking
shelter amongst those by whom it was perpetrated ; a most unreasonable and
un\varrantable conclusion. His own life Avas in innuinent danger, and he natu-
rally sought shelter where it was most likely to be found, without reference to
place or circumstances, and we cannot see by what reasoning he could be reduced
to the dilemma of either sacrificing his own life or submitting to be accused as
an accessory to murder ; the one consequence threatening him by his remaining
at large, the other by his flying to a place of refuge. He has been accused of
vindicating the deed in his writings. This length he certainly has gone ; but,
considering all the circumstances connected with it, such vindication on the part
of Knox is not much to be wondered at, nor is it calculated to excite much
reasonable prejudice against him, Beaton eagei'ly sought his life ; he was his
personal enemy, and a relentless and cruel enemy to all who were of the same
faith. If, therefore, we are called upon to disapprove of Knox's justification of
the death of Beaton, we should at the same time be permitted to remark, that
it was an event which he had but little reason to regret.

After entering the castle of St Andrews, Knox resumed his duties as a teacher,
and proceeded to instruct his pupils as before. He also resumed his lectures on
the Scriptures, and regularly catechised his hearers in the parish church of the
city. Hitherto Knox's appearances as a disciple and teacher of the reformed
doctrines had been rather of a private character, or at least only before select
audiences, such as his own class of pupils, or a few neighbours congregated
together as at Langniddrie. He was now, however, about to come forward in a
more public, or at least more formal c^apacity. At the time tliat he sought refuge
in the castle of St Andrews, there were three persons of note there, all zealous
reformers, who had also fled to it as a sanctuary. These Avere Sir David Lind-
say of the Mount, Henry Balnaves of Halliiill, and John Rough, a celebrated
reformed preacher, and who was at this moment publicly preaching in St
Andrews. These persons were so much struck wilii Knox's talents and his man-
ner of instructing his pupils, that they earnestly exhorted him to come publicly
forward as a preacher of the reformed doctrines. This, however, Knox declined ;
not from any unwillingness to expose himself to the dangers which then attended
the discharge of sucli a duty, nor from any reluctance to devote himself to the
great cause which he had espoused, and of i\hich he was afterwards so singular
a promoter; but from a feeling of diffidence in his own powers, and a deep sense
of the awful importance of the chaige to which lie Avas invited ; he besides enter-
tained some scruples as to the regularity of the call which was now made upon
him, and with a conscientiousness and feeling of delir«ncy which became his

JOHN KNOX, 329

relif^ious professions, expressed a fear that his coining forward as a preacher, on
the summons of only two or three individuals, might be deemed an intrusion
into the sacred office of the ministry.

Bent on their object, however, the three persons above named, without Knox's
knowledire, consulted with the members of the church in ■which Rough preached,
and the result -was the fixing of a certain day when Knox should, in the name
and in the face of the whole congregation, be called upon by the mouth of their
preacher to accept the office of the ministry. On the day appointed, and while
Knox was yet wholly unaware of what was to take place, Rough, af;er preaching
a sermon on the election of ministers, in which he maintained the right of a
consrre'^ation, however small its numbers, to elect its own pastor ; and he farther
maintained, that it was sinful to refuse to obey such a call when made : then
suddenly t'orning to Knox — " Brother," he said, *• you shall not be otlended
although I speak unto you that which I have in charge, even from all those that are
here present, which is this, — In the name of God and of his Son Jesus Christ,
and in the name of all that presently call you by my mouth, I charge you that
you refuse not this holy vocation, but, as you tender the glory of God, the
increase of Christ's kingdom, the edification of your brethren, and the comfort
of me, whom you understand well enough to be oppressed by the multitude of
labours, that you take the public office and charge of preaching, even as you
look to avoid God's heavy displeasure, and desire tliat he shall multiply his
graces unto you." Turning now to the congi-egation, " Was not this your
charge unto me?" he said, " and do ye not approve this vocation ?'" — '* It was,
and we approve it," was the reply. Deeply impressed with the circumstance,
Knox made an attempt to address the audience, but his feelings overcame him ;
he burst into tears, and rushed out of the church. Though not without the
hesitation and the doubts and fears of an ingenuous and religious mind, Knox
accepted the cliarge thus solemnly and strikingly imposed upon him, and on an
appointed day appeared in the pulpit. On this occasion, a highly interesting-
one, as beino- the first public appearance of the great reformer as a preacher of
the gospel, he gave out the twenty-fourth and t^venty-fifth vei-ses of the seventh
chapter of Daniel, a choice which shoAvs the great changes which he already
anticipated in the religious establishments of the land, and the confidence with
which he looked forward to the result of the contest now begun with the church
of Rome. The sermon which he preached on this occasion subjected him to
the hio-h displeasure of the church dignitaries; he and Rough were summoned
before a convention of learned men to answer for the heretical doctrines which
they entertained and promulgated. In the controversy which took place in this
assembly between Knox and the person appointed to dispute with him, a gi'ey
friar of the name of Ai-bukill, on the various points at issue, the former so
utterly discomfited his opponent, and so strongly established his own positions,
that the Romish clergy, resigning all hopes of maintaining their ground, either
by scriptural appeals, or by force of reasoning, carefully avoided for the future
all such exhibitions of public disputation. 'Ihe castle of St Andrews, in which
Knox still found refuge, was soon after this, June, 1547, besieged by a French
fleet, which had been despatched from PVance to assist the governor in its re-
duction ; and after a stout resistance of several weeks' duration, the gan-ison was
compelled to capitulate, and all within it \vere made prisoners of war. Knox
and all the others Avho were taken with him were carried on board the
French ships, which soon afterwards proceeded with them to Prance. On their
arrival there tlie greater part of them were distributed throughout difierent
prisons ; but Knox, with two or three others, were detained on board the gal-
leys in the Loire during the whole of the succeeding winter. His confinement

330 JOHX KXOX.

on ship-board altogether extended to nineteen months. At the end of that long
period his liberation took place ; but how it «as effected is not certainly
known.

On obtaining his liberty, Knox immediately proceeded to England, ^shere
tlie Reformation was making considerable progreis, under the auspices of arch-
bishop Cranmer, and other powerful persons in thai kingdom. Knox's reputa>
tion as a preacher and zealous reformer was already Avell kno^^^l to Cranmer and
his colleaeues, who were not long in finding him suitable emplojTuent. He
was despatclied by the privy council to Berwick to preach the reformed doc-
trines, a:id was allowed a salary for his maintenance. Here he remained for
two years, daily strengthening the great cause in which he was embarked, and
weakening that of its opponents. During this period too, great numbers were
conrerted by his powerful reasoninar and impressive eloquence : nor were the
good effects of his ministrj- confined to the effecting a beneficial change in the
religious sentiments of his hearers : their morals and manners were also greatly
improved by the force of his example, and the striking truths exhibited in his
precepts. While in Berwick, Knox was involved in another controversy or
public disputation similar to that in which he had been engaged in St -\ndreH5.
The scene on this occasion was Newcastle, whither he had been summoned by
the bishop of Durham to appear before an assembly of the learned men of his
cathedral, to discuss the doctrines which he taught. Tliese Knox defended with
his usual ability, and with his usual success. He retired triumphant from the
debate, leavins: his opponents silenced and confounded by the ingenuity and
strength of his arsrumenls, and the fervour and energy of his eloquence.

His reputation was now daily spreading wider and wider, and so highly did
the priv}' council appreciate the value of his services, that they conferred on him
in December, 1551, a singular mark of their approbation, by appointing him
one of the king's cliaplains. WhUe residing in Berwick, Knox formed an ac-
quaintance with a young lady of the name of ^larjory Bowes. This lady after-
wards became liis wife, but without the consent of her father, who could never
be induced to approve of the connexion. He, however, had a warm friend in
the youns lady's mother, who not only gave her sanction to the marriage of her
daughter, but used every effort, though without effect, to reconcile her husband
to the union. Family pride, together with some differences of opinion in reli-
gious matters, are supposed to have been the cause of 3Ir Bowes's objection to
accept the reformer as a son-in-law. As a natural result, tlie malevolence of
Knox's enemies, those who adhered to popery, kept pace wiih tlie success which
attended his efforts against the Romish church. They narrowly watched his
every word and action, and at length lajing hold of some ex-pressions of a poli-
tical nature which they conceived might be employed to his prejudice, they de-
nounced him to the privy council. In consequence of this charge, which was
supported by the duke of Northumberland, who entertained a personal dislike
to Knox, he was summoned up to London. The result, however, wrj in the
hiffhest degree favourable to him. He not only convinced the council of the
up'rightness^of his intentions and the malice of his accusers, but succeeded in
gaining a yet greater decree of favour with that body Uian he had before en-
ioyed. He was appointed to preach to the court, and gave such satisfaction in
the discharge of this duty, that the privy council determined to invite him to
preach in London and the southern counties during the following year. They
offered him the living of All HalloMS in the city. He, however, declined the ap-
pointment, as also that of a bishopric, which was soon afterwards tendered liim
at the special request of the king, by ^^hom he was much esteemed. These
splendid offers of promotion he refused for conscience' sake, — there being several

JOHN KNOX. 331

things connected nitli the English ecclesiastical establishment repugnant to the
faith uhich he had adopted ; sucli as tlie reading of lioniilies, the chanting of
matins and even-song, the prevalence of pluralities, &:c.

In the mean time, the king, Eduard VI. ulio had evinced so much readiness
to patronize our reformer, died, and was succeeded by one of the most sanguin-
ary and relentless enemies uhich the reformed religion had, during any period,
to contend with. Ibis was 3Iary. Ihe accession of this princess to the throne
totally altered Knox's situation and his views. Her bigotry and persecution
soon made England unsafe for him to live in.

Finding his danger becoming daily more and more imminent, lie at length
came to the resolution, though not \vithout much reluctance, of retiring to the
continent; and making choice of France, proceeded to Dieppe in that kingdom
in the year 1554. Here he remained till the latter end of the following year,
occasionally visiting Geneva, then the residence of the celebrated Calvin, uith
whom he formed a close intimacy. At the latter end of the autumn of 1555,
Knox returned to Scotland, induced by the temporary favour which the queen
dowager, Mary of Lorraine, had extended to the protestants in her dominions.
As this favour, however, did not proceed from any feeling of regai'd for those who
had adopted the new faith, but was employed as a means of checking the clergy
Avho had been averse to the dowager's obtaining the regency of the kingdom, it
was of short duration, and lasted only so long as that princess thought it neces-
sary to her interests. In the mean time, Knox was zealously and industriously
employed in disseminating the doctrines of the reformed religion. He went
from place to place preaching the gospel, and gradually increasing the number
of his disciples, amongst whom he was soon able to reckon some of the first
persons in the kingdom. While thus employed, he received an invitation from
an English congTCgation at Geneva to become their pastor. With this invita-
tion he thought it his duty to comply, and accordingly proceeded thither in the
month of July, 1556, He was on this occasion accompanied by his wife and
mother-in-law, the husband of the latter being now dead. On learning that he
had left Scotland, the clergy there proceeded to evince those feelings regarding
him which they had not dared to avow, or at least to act upon, while he was
present. Knowing that he could not appear, they summoned him before them,
passed sentence against him in absence, adjudging his body to the flames, and
his soul to damnation. The first pai-t of the sentence they made a show of car-
rying into effect, by causing his efiigy to be burned at the cross of Edinburgh.
On reaching Geneva, he immediately took charge of his congTCgation, and spent
the two following years in promoting their si)iritual interests. This was perhaps
the happiest period of Knox's life. He lived upon the most affectionate footing
with the members of his church, by all of Avhom he was greatly beloved. He
enjoyed the society and friendship of Calvin, and the other ministers of the
city ; and to complete his felicity, he lived in the bosom of his own family, a
happiness of which he had hitherto had but a small share. No degree of en-
joyment, however, or of earthly felicity, could wean him from the desire of pro-
moting the Keformation in his native country ; to this he continued to look
forward with unabated eagerness, and only waited for nioi'e favourable times to
gratify this ruling passion of his life.

\Mien he had been about two years in Geneva, the long-cherished wishes of
our reformer to exei'cise his ministry in his native land, seemed about to be
realized. Two persons, citizens of Edinburgh, the one named James Syme, the
other James Barron, arrived in Geneva with a letter signed by the carl of Glen-
cairn, the lords Lorn and Erskine, and lord James Stewart, an illegimate son
of James V., and afterwards eai-1 of Murray, inviting him to return to Scotland,

332 JOHN KNOX.

Knox immeJiately obeyed the call, and had proceeded as fai- as Dieppe on his
way to Scotland, when he received lettei-s from the latter country containing the
most discouraging accounts of tlie stale of (lie kingdom and of the protestant in-
terest there. Grieved and disappointed beyond expression, he again returned
to Geneva, where he remained for another year. During this period he assisted
in making a new translation of the IHble into English, and also published liis
" Letter to the Queen Kegent," his " Appellation and Exhortation," and " The
first I'lnst of the Trumpet against the monstrous Regiment of Women." blat-
ters having at length taken a more favourable turn in Scotland, the protestant
lords sent a second invitntion to Knox to join them, accompanied by the grati-
fying intelligence that the queen-regent had promised them her countenance
and protection. He placed little reliance on these promises, but he readily
obeyed tiie call of his friends to return to his native country.

He sailed from Dieppe on the 22nd of April, and arrived safely in Leitli on
the 2nd of 3lay, 1551). The distrust whicli Knox entertained of the good faith
of the cjueen-regent was not without sufficient cause. By the time he arrived,
that artful but able princess, conceiving that she had no longer any occasion for
assistance from the protestants, not only gave them to understand that they had
nothing more to hope from her, but openly avowed her determination to sup-
press the Reformation by every means in her power, and to employ force for
that purpose if it should be found necessary.

In this spirit she authorized ai'chbishop Hamilton to sunnnon the reformed
preacliers before him in St Andrews to answer for their conduct, giving him at
the same time, a similar assurance of protection and support with that which she
had a short while before given to the protestants. A threat, liowever, having
been conveyed to her that the preachers would not go unattended to the im-
pending trial, she deemed it prudent to prorogue it until she should be in a
better state of preparation, and accordingly wrote to the primate to delay any
further proceedings in the matter for the time. On the faith of receiving as-
sistance from i'rance, Avhicli had united \vith Spain for the extirpation of heresy,
she soon after resumed the process against tlie protestant preachers, and sum-
moned them to stand trial at Stirling. Thither Knox, though he had been pro-
claimed an outlaw and a rebel, by virtue of the sentence formerly pronounced
against him, determined to repair to assist his brethren in their defence, and to
share the dangers to which they might be exposed.

The artifice of the queen-regent, however, deprived him of the opportunity
of carrying this generous resolution into effect. The preachers in their progress
to Stirling, were attended by large bodies of people, avIio had determined to
abide by them during the impending trial. Unwilling, however, to give the
queen-regent any offence by approaching her in such numbers, they halted at
Perth, and sent Erskine of Dun before them to Stirling to assure lier that they
meditated no violence nor entertained any but the most peaceable intentions.
Not reconciled, however, by this representation to the approach of so great a
multitude, she liad recourse to dissimulation to prevent their coming nearer.
She informed Erskine, that she would stop the trial, if he would prevail upon
his brethren to desist from their journey. Unsuspicious of the deception she
intended to practise, Erskine was persuaded to write to the assembled protes-
tants, requesting them to proceed no further, and intimating that he was author-
ized by the queen to promise them that no trial of their preachers should take
place. Rejoiced by these very welcome and very unexpe(;ted overtures, they in-
stantly complied with the regent's request, and the greater part of them returned
to their homes. When the appointed day of trial came, however, the suuuuonses
of the pi-eachers were called in court by the express orders of the queen. They

JOHN KNOX. 333

■were outlawed for non-appearance, and all persons prohibited under pain of re-
bellion from harbouring or assisting- them. When this infamous pi'oceeding took
place, Knox was with tlie rest of liis brethren at Perth, ^^he^e he had preached
a sermon against idolatry and the calebi-ation of mass, on the vciy day on nhicli
intelligence reached that place of what liad occurred at Stirling.

On tlie conclusion of the sermon, a priest who was present had the imp'.idenco
to uncover an altar-piece on which were sonic images, and prepared to cele-
brate mass, regardless of the excited state of the public feeling, which had just
been roused by the eloquence of Knox, and armed, as it were, for violence by
the duplicity of the regent. Under these circumstances little was required to
bring on a crisis, and that little was not long wanting. A boy having uttered
some disrespectful expressions, was instantly struck by the hot-headed priesL
The boy retaliated by throwing a stone, which, missing his assailant, for whom
it was intended, struck the altar and broke one of the images. This fired the
train. In an instant all the interior decorations of the church were torn down
and destroyed, altar and images were overturned and trampled under fo)t ; a
mob collected outside, but finding the work of destruction already completed
here, they proceeded to the monasteries, A\hich they in a short time laid in
ruins. This was the first ebullition of popular feeling connected with the Kefor-
mation, and Knox has been accused of having been tlie cause of it. If lie Avas,
he certainly was so unconsciously and innocently, for he reprobated the violence
which had taken place, and in speaking of it, says it was perpetrated by " the
rascal multitude," — language sutliciently indicative of the light in which he
viewed it. Tlie protestant lords, finding now that they had not only nothing-
more to hope for from the queen, but that she was their declared enemy, deter-
mined to make a vigorous eflbrt to establish the reformed religion without either
her assistance or consent. They proceeded to ascertain the numbers of their
friends, established a correspondence with them, and united the whole by pro-
curing their subscriptions to a religious covenant, copies of Avhich they despatched
for that purpose to different districts throughout the country. These thus united
were distinguished by the name of The Congi-egation, and the noblemen who
were included by that of tlte Lords of the Congregation. The latter, still desirous
of accomplishing their purpose rather by the force of reasoning than by the
sword, engaged Knox to meet them on a certain day at St Andrews, where they
proposed he should deliver a series of sermons. On his way to St Andreus he
preached at Anstruther and Crail, and arrived at the first named place on the
9th of June.

Here occun-ed a striking instance of that personal intropidily for which the
great reformer was so remarkable. The archbishop, iiifonucd of his design to
preach in his cathedral, assembled an armed force, and sent word to Knox, that
if he appeared in the pulpit, he would order the soldiers to fire upon him.
Alarmed for his safety, Knox's friends endeavoured to dissuade him from
preaching, but in vain. " He could take God to witness," he said, " that he
never preached in contempt of any man, nor with the design of hurting an earthly
creature ; but to delay to preach next day, unless forcibly hindered, he could not in
conscience agi-ee. As for the fear of danger that may come to me," he con^
tinued, " let no man be solicitous, for my life is in the custody of him Avhose
glor^' I seek. I desire the hand nor weapon of no man to defend me." Knox
accordingly appeared in the pulpit at the appointed time, and preached to a
numerous assembly, without experiencing any interruption : but although the
threatened attempt upon his life was not made, he retains a full claim to all the
courage which a contempt and defiance of that threat implies.

On this occasion he preached for three successive days ; and such vas tlie ef-

334 JOHN KNOX.

feet of Lis eloquence and the influence of his doctrine, lliat botli the inhabitants
and the civil authorities agreed to set up the rel'onned uorship in the town.
The monasteries ^vere demolished and tiie church stripped of all inuiges and pic-
tures. The example of St Andrews was soon afier followed in many other parts
of the kingdom. At the latter end of tlie month, Knox arrived wltli the forces
of the Congregatiou in Edinburgh, and on the same day on which he entered
the city, he preached in St Giles's, next day in the Abbey church, and on the
7th of July, the inhabitants met in the tolbooth, and appointed him their
minister, there being then only one place of worship in Edinburgh, viz. St Giles's
church. In this charge, however, he was not long permitted to remain. The
forces of tiie regent soon after obtained possession of the city ; and, although
against his own inclination, his friends prevailed upon liim to retire from the
town. On leaving Edinburgh, he undertook a tour of preaching through the
kingdom ; and in less than two months had gone over the greater part of it,
disseminating with the most powerful effect the doctrines of the reformed i-eli-
glon. He next retired to St Andrews, where he officiated as minister for several
months ; and on the conclusion of the civil war, which the determination of the
Congregation to establish, the reformed religion and the regent's efforts to sup-
press it, had created, he returned to Edinburgh. In I5G0, after an arduous
struggle and many vicissitudes, the faith for which Knox had fought such a " good
fight," seemed to be securely established in the land. The queen- regent was dead,
and by the assistance of England, an assistance which Knox had been the chief
instrument in procuring, the arms of the forces of the Congregation were com-
pletely triumphant.

The accession, however, of Mary, who was known to be strongly attached to
popery, to the actual government, again excited the fears of the protestants, and
of no one more than Knox, who Insisted that the invitation sent to Fi-ance to that
princess to ascend tlie throne of her ancestors should be accompanied by the
stipulation, that she should desist from the celebration of mass ; and when the
rest of the council urged that she ought to be allowed that liberty within her
own chapel, he predicted that " her liberty would be their thraldom."

A few days alter the queen's arrival at Holyrood she sent for Knox, and
taxed him \vith holding political opinions at once dangerous to her authority
and the peace of her realm, and with teaching a religion different from that al-
lowed by its princes. Knox entered at great length into these subjects, defend-
ing himself and his doctrines with his usual ability and boldness. Ills language,
at no time very courtly, is said to have been so harsh in some instances on this
occasion as to drive the young queen to tears ; but whether this, if true, ought
to be considered as a proof of the severity of his expressions, or of the queen's
irritability of temper, is questionable, since it is probable that she may have
wept Avithout sufficient cause. The arrival of the dinner hour broke off' this in-
teresting interviciv, and Knox retired from the presence with some expressions
of good wishes for the queen's happines?. Frequent conferences of a similar
nature with this took place afterwards between the reformer and fllary, but
with little increase of regard on either side. On one of these occasions, when
he had spoken with even more than his usual boldness, and just as he was about
to retire, he overheard some of the queen's popish attendants say, " He la not
afraid." — " Why should the pleasing face of a gentlewoman frighten me ?' replied
the stout reformer, tm-ning round upon them ; " I have looked In the faces of
many angry 7nen, and yet have not been afraid beyond measure." Knox's min-
isterial duties were in the mean time exceedingly laborious. His charge, as al-
ready mentioned, was St Giles's church, where he had discharged these duties
since the year 1560. He preached twice every Sabbath, and thrice on other

JOHN KNOX. 335

days of the week, besides meeting regularly with liis kirk-session once every
week for discipline, and Mitii others for exercises on the Scriptures. Besides
all this, he regularly attended all the meetings of the general assembly and the
provincial synod ; and at almost every meeting of the former, a mission to visit
and preach in some distant part of the country was imposed upon him. With
the view of relieving him of part of tliese overwhelming labours, the town coun-
cil, in April, 1562, solicited John Craig, minister of Canongate, to undertake
the half of his charge. From the difficulty, however, of obtaining an additional
stipend, Knox remained without assistance till June in the following year. It
has been already said that many interviews took place from time to time be-
tween the queen and Knox ; these were still occasionally occurring ; but their
only effect was to increase her dread and dislike of the reformer ; and although
some instances occuiTed in whicli there was something like an approach to a
better understanding, yet on the part of the queen it \\as never sincere ; and
there is little doubt that she longed for an opportunity of getting rid of so
troublesome a subject, whom neither her threats nor blandishments could divert
for an instant from what he conceived to be the strict path of his duty. Such
an opportunity as she desired, or at least such a one as she certainly rejoiced in,
seemed now unexpectedly to present itself. Two persons, protestants, were in-
dicted to stand trial for having with several others, intruded into the palace
during a temporary absence of the queen, for the purpose of interrupting tl'.e
celebration of certain Roman catholic rites which Mas about to take place in
the chapel of Holyrood. The protestants of Edinburgh, dreading that the
queen would proceed to extremities against these men, requested Knox to write
circular letters to the principal gentlemen of their persuasion, detailing the cir-
cumstances of the case, and inviting their presence on the day of trial.

One of these letters falling into the hands of the bishop of Ross, he im-
mediately conveyed it to the queen, who again lost no time in laying it before
her privy council, by which it was pronounced treasonable, and the writer was
soon afterwards indicted to stand trial in Edinburgh for the crime of high
treason. The queen presided in person at the trial, and with an ill-judged and
ill-timed levity, burst into a fit of laughter, when on taking her seat in court she
perceived Knox standing uncovered at the foot of the table. " That man," she
said, pointing to the reformer, " had made her Aveep, and shed never a tear
himself: she would now see if she could make him weep." The trial no^v pro-
ceeded, and after the charge against him had been read, Knox entered upon
his defence at great length, and with such selt-possession, intrepidity, and
ability, that although he had several enemies amongst his judges, he was, by a
great majority acquitted of the crime of which he had been accused.

Alluding to the queen's feelings on this occasion, he says in his History,
" That night, (the evening after the trial) was nyther dancing nor fiddling in
the coui't ; for madanie Avas disapoynted of hir purpose, quhilk was to have had
John Knox in hir will, be rot of hir nobility." A second attempt on the part
of the queen and her husband Darnley to suppress the stern and uncompromising
truths, both political and religious, which the reformer continued to proclaim to
the world, was soon after made. He had given out a text which gave such of-
fence to the stripling king, that on the afternoon of the same day he was taken
from his bed and carried before the privy council, who suspended him from his
office. As the suspension, however, was limited to the time of their majesties
residence in the city, it was but of short dui-ation, as they left Edinburgh before
the following Sabbath, Avhen Knox resumed his ministry, and delivered his sen-
timents with the same boldness as before. This occurrence was soon after fol-
lo^ved by the murder of Rizzio, the queen's secretary ; an event which gave the

336 ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

queen, now at Dunbar, a pretence for raising an army, ostensibly to enable her
to resent tlie indignity uhich had been sliown to Iier person by the assassins of lliz-
zio, and to punisii the perpetrator of that deed, but in reality, to overawe the
protestants. On the approach of the queen and her forces to Edinburgh, Knox,
long since aware of the dislike wiiicli she entertained towards him, deemed it
prudent to leave tlie city. On this occasion he retired to Kyle, and soon after-
wards went to England to visit his two sons, \\ho were there living with some
relations of their mother's. Knox returned again to Edinburgii, after an ab-
sence of about live or sixth months. During that interval two events had taken
place, ^^Ilich entirely ruined the queen's authority in the kingdom, and left him
nothing to fear from her pei-sonal resentment ; these were tiie murder of Darn-
ley and lier marriage witli Bothwell. He therefore resumed his charge without
interruption, and proceeded to take that active part in the national affairs, both
political and religious, which the times required, and for which he was so emi-
nently fitted ; and, soon after, had the satisfaction of seeing the protestant reli-
gion securely established by the laws of the land, and that of the popish church
utterly overliirown by the same authority.

In tiic month of October, 1570, he uas stmck with apoplexy, and although
it only interrupted his preaching for a few days, he never recovered from the
debility which it produced.

The irritability of the times, and the vindictive spirit of the popish faction,
still animating its expiring efforts, placed the life of the great reformer once
more in danger, and once more compelled him to seek safety in flight. His
enemies endeavoured first to destroy his reputation by the most absurd and un-
founded calumnies; and failing utterly in these, they made an attempt upon his
life. A shot was fired in at the window at'which he usually sat ; but happening
to h'3 seated at a different part of the table from that whicli he generally occu-
pied, the bullet missed him, but struck the candlestick which was before him,
and then lodged in the roof of the apartment.

Finding that it was no longer safe for him to remain in Edinburgh, he re-
tired to St Andrews, where he continued till the end of August, 1572, when lie
again returned to Edinburgh. His valuable and active life was now drawing
fast to a close. On the 11th of the November following he was seized with a
cough, which greatly affected his breathing, and on the 2 1th of the same month
expired, after an illness which called forth numerous instances of the magnani-
mity of his character, and of the purity and fervour of that religious zeal by
which he had been always inspired. He died in the sixty-seventli year of his
age, " not so much," says Dr M'Crie, " oppressed with years as worn out and
exhausted by his extraordinary labours of body and anxieties of mind." His
body Avas interred in the church-yard of St Giles, on Wednesday the 26th of
November, and was attended to the grave by all the nobility who were in the
i city, and an immense concourse of people. When his body was laid in the
j grave, the regent, who was also at the funeral, exclaimed in words which have
I made a strong impression from their aptness and truth, " There lies he who
never feared the face of man."

LAING, Alexander Gordon, whose name is so mournfully connected with
the history of African discovery, was born at Edinburgh on the 27 th of Ue-

AXEXAN"DER GORDON LAING. 337

ceinbcr, 1793. His father, William Lairg, .\.M., nss Uie first nho opened an
academy for classical education in the new town of ilie Sojttish capital; \>here
he laboured for thirty-ttto years, and was one of the most popular teachers of his
day. His maternal grand-father, A\ iliiam Gordon, was also a teacher of very
considerable note, and is known in the schools as the author of a system of geo-
graphy, a treatise on arithmetic, a translation of the first six books of Livy, ic

With such a parentage it might naturally hare been supposed, that tlie subject
of this memoir was more likely to hare spent his days amid the quiet pursuits of
literature, than in the bustle of the camp, and amid the din of amis ; the ap-
pearances of his early years seemed to favour the suppcsltion. Under the tuition
of his father, young Laing received the elementary education that was necessary
to prepare him for the university, and he was enrolled in the Humanity class
at the early age of thirteen years. Previous to this he had acquired a very con-
siderable knowledge of the Latin Language, of which he was passionately fond:
and the appearances he made in the class then taught by professor Christison,
were of so marked a kind as to secure him the very flattering notice of his pre-
ceptor ; he was held up as a model for the imitation of his fellow students, and
there were but few who could entertain any hope of excelling him.

At the age of fifteen 3Ir Laing entered on the business of active life, hating
engaged himself as assistant to jlr Bruce, a teacher in Newcastle. In this situa-
tion he remained only six months, when he returned to Edinburgh, and entered
into company with his father, taking charge of the commercial department of the
academy, for which his beautiful penmanship and other acquirements singularly
qualified him.

But the time Avas fast approaching when the subject of our memoir was to ex-
change the ferula for the gisord. In 1509, volunteering was very general in
Edinburgh, and young Laing attached himself to a corps then forming. In
1310, he was made an ensign in the prince of Wales' volunteers, and irom that
period the academy had no more charms for him. In his eighteenth year he
abandoned the irksome duties of teaching, and set on for Barbadoes to his ma-
ternal uiide, c-olonel, afterwards lieutenant-general Gordon, through whose kind
offices he looked forward to an introduction into the army. At that time colonel
Gordon held the onice of deputy quarter-master-general in Earbadoes, and on
his nephew's arrival he gave him a situation as clerk in his counting house. In
this situation 3Ir Laing repeatedly came in contact with Sir George Beckwith,
then at the head of the command of the military on the station, who was so much
pleased with the youn? clerk, and took so deep an interest in his fortunes, as
to secure for him unsolicited an ensign's commission in the \ork light infantry.

But we must hurry over the first years of Laing's service in the army, in
order that we may have space to detail the more important passages in his his-
tory. Having obtained the ensigncy in the \ork light infantry, he immediate-
ly joined his regiment in Antigua ; in two years he Avas made a lieutenant, and
shortly after, on the reduction of the regiment, he was put en half-pay. Lis-
satisfied with the inactivity consequent on such & measure, as soon as the neces-
sary arransements could be made, he exchanged into the ■2Ed West India regi-
ment, and proceeded to Jamaica- Here over exertion in coiuequence of his
discharging the duties of quarter-master-general caused him to sutkv much from
disease of the liver. He retired to Honduras for the recovery of his health,
where colonel Arthur, appreciating his excellence as an olBcer, detained him with
another division of the regiment, and appointed him fort major. His distemper,
however, which at first seemed to yield in Honduras, returned with increasing
Tiolence, and compelled him to seek relief in the air of his native land, and the
sympathies of his relations.

338 ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

During the eighteen months lie remained at home, the division of the 2nd
West India regiment to which he behmged, uns reduced, and he uas again put
on half-pay. liestored, however, to liealili, he could not remain inactive. To-
wards the end of 1819, he went to London, was sent for by the colonel of his
regiment, the late Sir Henry Torrence, received many flattering compliments
for his former services, and having been appointed lieutenant and adjutant, he
proceeded to Sierra Leone.

From the beginning of the year 1822 his history as an African traveller may
properly be dated. In January of that year ho wns despat(;lied by Sir Charles
3I'Carlhy, governor of Sierra Leone, on an important embassy to Kambia and
the Mandingo country, where he collected much valuable information regarding
the political condition of these districts, their dispositions as to commerce, and
their sentiments as to slavery. Having so far achieved the object for which he
set out, he crossed to 3Ialacouri, a ]Mandingo town, situated on the banks of the
river IMalageea. Tliere he learned that Sannassee, the chief of the district of
IMalageea, and a friend of the British government, had been captured by Amara,
the king of the Soolimas, and was about to be put to death. Well knowing the
unrelenting disposition of Amara,Laing, although labouring under a severe attack
of fever and ague, resolved to go to the Soolima camp, and intercede for the life
of the unfortunate Sannassee.

With this view he crossed the 3Ialageea near ils source, and after experienc-
ing many difiiculties in meeting ^vith Soolima guards, he at length reached the
camp. Having witnessed the feats of warlike exercise, the dancing, and the
music exhibited by Soolimas, Bennas, Sangax-as, and Tambaccas, he was invited
to a palaver with Yarradee, the general of the Soolima army. This oflicer re»
ceived him with much kindness, and with many protestations of friendship.
Subsequently he was introduced to, and had a conversation with Aniara himself,
and having obtained an assurance that Sannassee would not be put to death, he
retired to SieiTa Leone, where he arrived on the (Jth day, exhausted by the
fatigues of his journey and continued illness.

Scarcely had Laing recovered, when a report at Sierra Leone that his mission
had been of no avail, induced the governor to send him on another embassy for
the same object. Having once move visited the Soolima camp, he was assured
indeed that Sannassee had been set at liberty, but he also learned that his town
had been burned, and his property plundered or destroyed. Of this conduct he
expressed in the name of his government the most decided reprobation ;
and after a journey of six and a half days, during which he bad never for a
single hour been under shelter, he once more reached Sierra Leone.

It was now that lieutenant Laing assumed the character of a volunteer travel-
ler. Having been led to believe during the last embassy that the Soolimas
were in possession of considerable quantities of gold and ivory, he suggested to
the governor the propriety and probable advantages of the colony opening up a
commercial intercourse ^vith them ; and the suggestion having been approved
of by the council at large, he left Sierra Leone again on the 16th of April,
1822, with the view of furthering such an object, accompanied by two soldiers
of the 2nd West India regiment, a native of Foutah Jallow, eleven earners,
natives of the Jolof district, and a boy a native of Sego.

When he set out upon this journey little was known of the Soolimas except
the name ; they were said to be distant from Sieixa Leone four hundred miles
to the eastward : it afterwards appeared that Falaba, the capital, is only distant
t\vo hundred miles. They were represented as a powerful nation, rich in gold
and ivory ; but this also turned out not to be the fact.

On his anival at Toma in the country of the Timmanees, our traveller found

ALEXANDER GORDON LAING. 339

tliat no white man had ever been tliere before him, although the town is situated
only sixty miles from Sierra Leone. Jiis appearanre, as was to be expected,
excited no liltle astonishment — one woman, in particular, stood fixed like a statue
gazing on the party as they entered the town, and did not stir a muscle till the
whole had passed, when she gave a loud halloo of astonishment, and thea
covered her mouth with both her hands. Of the Tinimanees he writes in his
journal very unlavourably ; he found them depraved, indolent, avaricious, and
so deeply sunk in the debasement of the slave traffic, that the very mothers
among them raised a clamour against him for refusing to buy their children.
He further accuses them of dishonesty and gross indecency, and altogether
wonders that a country so near Sierra Leone, should have gained so little by
its proximity to a British settlement.

From the country of the Timmanees lieutenant Laing proceeded into that of
Kooranko, the first view of which was much more promising — he found the fii-st
town into which he entered neat and clean, and the inhabitants bearing all the
marks of active industry. It was about sunset when he approached it, and we
give in his own language a description of the scene. " Some of the people,"
says he, " had been engaged in preparing the fields for the crops, others were
penning up a few cattle, whose sleek sides denoted the richness of their pastur-
ages ; the last clink of the blacksmith's hanuner ivas sounding, the Aveaver was
measuring the cloth he had woven during the day, and the guarange, a worker in
leather, was tying up his neatly stained pouches, shoes, and knife-sheaths ; while
the crier at the mosques, with the melancholy call of * Allah Akbar,' summoned
the decorous Moslems to their evening devotions." Such were cur ti"aveller"s
fii-st impressions of the Koorankoes ; but their subsequent conduct did not confirm
the good opinion he had formed of them.

On approaching the hilly country, lieutenant Laing informs us that nothing
could be more beautiful or animating than the scene presented to his view, —
well clothed rising gi-ounds, cultivated valleys, and meadoAvs smiling Avith ver-
dure ; the people in the different towns were contented and good-humoured,
and, in general, received the stranger with very great kindness. In illustration
of this he has given us the burden of the song of one of their minstrels : —
" The white man lived on the waters and ate nothing but fish, which made him
so thin ; but the black men will give him cows and sheep to eat, and milk to
drink, and then he will grow fat."'

At Komato, the last town of the Koorankoes, on his route, our traveller found
a messenger from the king of Soolimana, with horses and carriages to convey
him to Falaba, the capital of that nation. Crossing the Rokelle river, about a
hundred yards broad, by ropes of twigs suspended from the branches of two
immense trees, (a suspension bridge called by the natives Nyankata,) he proceeded
to tliat city ; and having been joined by the king's son at the last town upon
this side of it, he entered Falaba under a salute of musketry from 2000 men,
who were drawn up in the centre of the town to receive him.

Not long after reaching Falaba, lieutenant, now captain Laing (for about this
time he was promoted,) was seized with a fever which brought on delirium for
several days. \Miile in this state he was cupped by one of the Soolima doctors,
and that so effectually as to satisfy him that it was the means of saving his life.
The operation differed in no respect from ours, except that the skin was scari-
fied by a razor, and the cup was a small calabash gourd.

Our traveller enters, in his journal, into a long detail of the habits and man-
ners of the Soolimas, with which he had made himself fully acquainted during
his three months' residence in Falaba. To give even a short abstract of this,
would be inconsistent with the limits assigned to this memoir. Suffice it to say.

340 ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

that the main object of lus mission failed. The king all along promised to send
back Avitli liim a company of tradei-s ; but when the time of departure aiTived,
these promises ended in nought. Althougli within three days' joinmey of the
source of the Niger, he was not permitted to visit that often sought spot, .and
deep was the grief which tiie loss of such an oppurtunity cost him ; by measuring,
however, the height of the source of the Kokelle, whicli lie found to be 1411
feet, and by talking into account tlic heigiit of the mountains in the distance,
which gave rise to tlie Niger, he calculated, (as he himself thought,) with a tolera-
ble dc'-^ree of accuracy, tliat that river which has had so much importance
assi"-ned to it, has an elevation at its source of from 1500 to 1600 feet above
the level of the Atlantic. We cannot resist quoting here the testimony of an
eminent writer in the Edinburgh Journal of Natural and Geographic^-il Science,
(June, 1830,) more especially as the measurements of captain Laing have been
rather lightly spoken of in the Quarterly Review, (we believe by Mr Barrow :)
" Major Laing," says the Edinburgh Journalist, " assigned the position and
the elevation above the sea of Olount Loma, from whence the Niger takes its
origin : and he first traced on the map the first part of its course towards the
nortii for an extent of about twenty-five leagues."

On the 17th of September our traveller quitted Falaba, accompanied by
numbers of the natives, who escorted him to a considerable distance, the last to
leave him was the king himself. Of his "adieu" the captain speaks in the
most aflecting terms. On returning, the route of the party was nearly the same
as that by which tliey set out. The conclusion of the journey we give, in the
traveller's own words, in a note.'

Before our traveller's return, hostilities had commenced between the British
government and the king of the Ashantees — the consequence was, that no sooner
had he tasted the comforts of a British settlement, than he was ordered to join
his regiment on the Gold coast without delay. Having transmitted details to
his friend, captain Sabine in London, of the geographical determinations of the
latitude, longitude, and elevation of the places he had lately visited, he hastened
to obey the order he had received. On his arrival on the Gold coast he was
employed in the organization and command of a very considerable native force,
designed to be auxiliary to a small British detachment which was then expected
from Britain. During the greater part of the year 1 823, this native force was
stationed on the frontier of the Fantee and Ashantee countries, and was fre-
quently engaged, and always successfully, with detachments of the Ashantee
army. On one of these occasions the enemy was completely beaten, and the fame
of the victory spread over the whole coasts ; in so much, and so effectually, that
Sir Charles ftl'Carthy received the allegiance of most of the Fantee tribes. On
another occasion captain Laing made two gallant and successful attacks on n larger
division of the enemy ; and entering into the territories of the king of Aju-

1 " \Vc left Ma Koota at six A. M., aiul after a fiitiguiiig march of twent3-five miles over
a vile Timmanecpath, ivc reached Ilokonat four 1*. IM., where I rejoined mj- party, which had
arrived a few hours before. At six I embarked in a canoe, with an intention of pushing
direct for Sierra Leone, but perceiving a small boat at anchor offtlie small town of Maherre,
I went on shore; and in a few minutes had the gratification of shaking hands with Senor
Altavilla, I'orlugue.so conimissiuy judge at Sierra Leone, and captain .Stepney of the 2nd
West India regiment, who, on hearing of my approach li.id gone so far on the way to meet
me. About midnight we were joined by Mr IVLnneth Macauley, when we all embarked in
his barge; and jjroceeding down the river, arrived at Tonibo to breakfast, where I depriced
myself of the clecoralion o/mi/Jacc, now of seven monl/is^ growth, and by the help of some bor-
rowed garments elfected an alteration in ni} appearance which was very requisite. Leaving
'J'ombo after breakfast, wo proceeded clown the Kokelle, on a line cilm morning, and at two
P. M. I had the sfitisfaction of being welcomed by my friends at fbierra Leone, so many of
whom, so much esteemed and so highly valued, arc now no more.''

ALEXANDER GORDON LAING. 341

niacoii, who was suspected to be friendly to the Ashantees, he compelled that
prince to place his troops under the IJritish- command.

On the fall of Sir Charles McCarthy, which took place in 1824, lieutenant-
colonel Cliishohn, on whom the command of the Gold coast devolved, sent the
subject of our memoir to England, to acquaint government more fully ihan could
otherwise be done, of the state of the country, and the circumstances of the
war. lie arrived in England in August, and immediately aftcru.ards obtained a
leave of absence to visit Scotland for the recovery of his health, which had been
seriously afl'ected by so many months of constant and extreme exposure in
Africa. In Scotland, however, he did not continue long. In October he re-
turned to London, and an opportunity having unexpectedly presented itself to
him, of proceeding under lord Bathurst's auspices, in the discovery of the course
and termination of the Niger, an opportunity Avhich he had long and anxiously
desired, he gladly embraced it. It being arranged, that he should accompany
the caravan from Tripoli to Timbuctoo, in the ensuing summer, it became neces-
sary that he should depart early in the year from that father land, which, alas!
he was destined never to revisit.

Our traveller, now promoted to a majority, left London for Tripoli, in the
month of February, 1825. While in the latter city he had occasion to have
frequent intercourse with the British consul, 3Ir Warrington ; a close intimacy
was formed between them, and the bond was strengthened by the major's mar-
rying Emma ]\Iaria, the daughter of the consul. This event was celebrated on
the i4tli of July, 1825 ; and two days after the marriage the major proceeded
on his pilgrimage to Timbuctoo.

He left Tripoli in company with the sheik Babani, whom he afterwards dis-
covered to be no less a personage than the governor of Ghadamis. The sheik
engaged to conduct him to Timbuctoo in ten weeks ; the wife and the family of
Babani resided there. The travellers proceeded with their kqffila by the
route of Beneoleed, the passage by the (jharan mountains being rendered un-
safe, in consequence of the tui-bulence of a rebellious chief in that district. On
the yist of August the party reached Shatc, and on the 13th of September,
after a tedious and circuitous journey of nearly a thousand miles, they arrived
at (ihadamis. Already had the major experienced much to vex and annoy
him ; his barometer had been broken ; his hygrometers had been rendered use-
less by evaporation ; the tubes of most of his thermometers had been snapt by
the warping of the ivory ; his glasses had been dimmed by the friction of the
sand; his chronometer had stopped (in all likelihood from the insinuation of
sandy particles) ; and in addition to tliis lengthened list of mishaps, his rifle
stock had been broken by the tread of an elephant.

Our traveller left Ghadamis, where he was treated with the utmost kindness
and hospitality, on the 27th of October ; and on the 3rd of December he arrived
at Ensala, a town on the eastern frontier of the province of Tuat, belonging to
the Tuaric, and said to be thirty-five days' journey from Timbuctoo. Here as
in Ghadamis, he experienced the kindest reception, and he did all l:e could to
repay it, by administering of his medi(;ines to the diseased.

From Ensala he wrote the last letter to his relations in Scotland, which they ever
received from him. As it is a document of great interest, and, in some passages,
highly characteristic of the writer, we shall present a considerable extract :

" Ensala in Tuat, December 8, 1S25.
* * * *

" I arrived here in the aftei neon of the 2i:tl instnnt ; and the cuiiosit}- which myappfarnnce
among these people has excited, is not yet nearly allayed, insomudi that I am beset during

34:2 ALEXANDER GORDON LAING.

nearly ihe whole day \>ith imriads of wondtiiiig sjieclators, who flock to the house which 1
inhabit, and stare at me with about as much curiosity as jou would at the great liontss in
Extter Cliange, whicli whelped three jomig lions, and condtsctnded to suckle tJiem herstli.
The natives of this place are of the tribe cdled ]Muslic:iral>, and live under no law or control.
They do not employ themselves eiliier iu trade or cultivation, but, lilce a Si.t of outlaws, roam
about the desert, robbing ajid pliuidering laiffilas wherever they ciin fail in with them.
There has been murderous work among them tliis }car, — more than half a dozen fights of one
kind or another, and between two and three himdjed slain. 1 shall quit them, please God,
iu s.veu or eight days more, as I accompany a large kafiila, whicli proceeds on the loth
instant towards Ti mbuctoo, from which I am now only thirty daj s' joume)-. Everj thing
appears to fcivour me, and to bid fair for a speedy and successful termination to m)' arduous
enterprise. I am already possessed of much curious and valuable information, and feel
confident that I sliall realize the most sanguine expectations of mj numerous friends. I shall
do more tlian has ever been done before, and shall show m)self to be what I have ever con-
sidered mjsdf, a man of enterprise and genius. My father used often to accuse me of want
of common stnse ; but he little thought that I gbried in the accusation. 'Tis true, I never
poss; ssed any, nor ever shall. At a very early age, I fell in with an obseiTation of Helvc-
Uus, which pleased me much, and chimed in with my way of thinking to the tenth part of a
second. ' A man of common sense is a man in whose character indolence predominates: he
is not endowed with activity of soul, which, in high stations, leads great minds to discover
new springs by which they may set tlie world in motion, or to sow the seeds, from the growth
of ^Wlicil they are enabled to produce future events.' I admit that common sense is more
necessary for conducting the petty aiiairs of life than geni\is or enterprise ; but the man who
soars into the ngions of specidation should never be hampered by it. Had I been gifted
with that quality which the bulk of mankind consider so inestimable, I might now have
been a joll}' subaltern on half-pay, or perhaps an orthodox preacher in some country kirk, in
lieu of dictiiting this letter to jou from the arid regions of central Africa. This is a long
rhapsody, but jou must just bear with it patiently, as it is not ever)' day that j ou can hear
from me.

'' I hope )ou have written to my dearest Emma, the most amiable giii that God ever
created. She is, indeed, such a being os I had formed in my mind's ejes but had never
before seen, and hps just as much common sense as lias fallen to the lot of your most worthy
elder brother." * * *

He (juittud Ensala on tlie lOtli of January, 1S2G, and on llie Stitli of the
same niontli entered on tlie cheerless, lint, and sandy desert of Tenezaroll;
Hitherto neither liis enthusiasm nor his health had failed him ; the people had
all been friendly and kind to hiiu, the elements only had been his foes ; but in
the desert he Avas to enter on a different course of experience, and bitter
assuredly it was. The Tuarics attacked, and plundered, and most cruelly
mangled him. The following letter, written by himself, and addressed to
his father-in-law, discloses the amount of authentic information concerning this
barbarous outrage.

li'ad Sidi Mahomed, May lOl/i, 162S.
My Dear Consul, —

I drop )ou a line only bj- an uncertain conveyance, to acquaint jou that I £im recovering
from my severe wounds far beyond any calculation that the most sanguine expectation could
haye formed; and that to-morrow, please Gdl, 1 leave this place for Timbuctoo, which 1
hope to reach on the 18th. I have suffered much, but the detail must be reserved till another
period, when I shall " a tale unfold " of treachery and woe that will surprise jou. Some im-
putation is attachable to the old sheik (Babani); but as he is now no more, I sliall not accuse
liirn ; he died very suddenly about a month since.

ALEXANDER GORDON LATNG. 34'

When I write from Tirabuctoo, 1 shall detail procistly how 1 w-as betrayed, and nearly
nuinlereil in my sleep. In the mcaji time, 1 shall acquaint )ou with the number and nature
of my wounds, in all amounting to twenty-four; eighteen of which arc cxreedingly severe.
I have five sabre cuts on the crown of tlie head, and three on the left temple ; all fi-actures,
from which much bone has come away. One on my left cheek, which fractui-ed the jaw-
bone, and has divided the ear, forming a very unsightly wound. One over tlie right temple,
and a dreadful gash on the back of the neck, which slighUy scratched the windpipe,* &o. I
am, nevertheless, as already 1 have said, doing well, and hope yet to return to England with
much important geographical infonnation. The map indeed requires much correction, and
please God, I shall yet do much in addition to what I have already done towards putting it
right.

It would appear from this letter, Uiat the major intended on the day after he
^\Tote it, to set out for Tinibuctoo. The intention, liowever, was frustrated.
The illness, and subsequent death of Sidi 3Iahonied 3Iooktar, the marabout and
sheik of the place, together with a severe attack of fever in liis own person,
detained him for two months longer. By this distemper he lost also his
favourite servant Jack, to whom he was much attached. We can easily enter
into his feelings when, writing- again on the 1st of July to liis father-in-law, he
concludes the epistle by saying, " T am now the only surviving member of tlie
mission."

On the 18th of August he arrived at Tinibuctoo, and from the following let-
ter, which he left behind him there, which was afterwards forwarded to Tripoli
by the ncpiiew of Babani, and is the last that any of his relations ever re-
ceived from him, we learn only enough to deepen our regret that he should
have perished in the hour of success, and that his valuable papers should hare
been lost to the world.

'• Vimbuctoo,\ September 21, 1626.

'• My Dear Consul : — A verj- short epistle must ser\'e to apprise you, as well as my dearest
Emma, of my arrival at and departure from the great capital of central Africa; the former
of which events took place on the 18th ultimo, the latter, please God, will take place at an
early hour to-morrow morning. I have abandoned all thoughts of retracing my steps to
Tripoli, and came here with an intention of proceeding to Jenne by water; but this intention
has been entirely upset, and my situation in Tinibuctoo rendered exceedingly