Chapter XIV: Part 14

Another case in which the spirit used personal violence, but of an impalpable kind, is related by Martin as happening at Knockowe, in Skye, and as reported to him by the family who were present when the circumstance occurred. A man-servant, who usually enjoyed perfect health, was one evening taken violently ill, fell back upon the floor, and then began to vomit. The family were much concerned, being totally at a loss to account for so sudden an attack; but in a short while the man recovered, and declared himself free of pain. A seer in the family explained the mystery. In a neighbouring village lived an ill-natured female, who had had some hopes of marriage from this man, but was likely to be disappointed. He had seen this woman come in with a furious countenance, and fall a-scolding her lover in the most violent manner, till the man tumbled from his seat, albeit unconscious of the assault made upon him.

Several instances of second-sight are recorded in connection with historical occurrences. Sir John Harrington relates that, at an interview he had with King James in 1607, the conversation having turned upon Queen Mary, the king told him that her death had been seen in Scotland before it happened, ‘being, as he said, “spoken of in secret by those whose power of sight presented to them a bloody head dancing in the air.” He then,’ continues Harrington, ‘did remark much on this gift.’[345] It is related in May’s _History of England_, that when the family of King James was leaving Scotland for England, an old hermit-like seer was brought before them, who took little notice of Prince Henry, but wept over Prince Charles—then three years old—lamenting to think of the misfortunes he was to undergo, and declaring he should be the most miserable of princes. A Scotch nobleman had a Highland seer brought to London, where he asked his judgment on the Duke of Buckingham, then at the height of his fortunes as the king’s favourite. [Sidenote: 1703.] ‘Pish!’ said he, ‘he will come to nothing. I see a dagger in his breast!’ In time the duke, as is well known, was stabbed to the heart by Lieutenant Felton.

In one of the letters on second-sight, written to Mr Aubrey from Scotland about 1693–94, reference is made to the seer Archibald Macdonald, who has already been introduced in connection with instances occurring in Skye. According to this writer, who was a divinity student living in Strathspey, Inverness-shire, Archibald announced a prediction regarding the unfortunate Earl of Argyle. He mentioned it at Balloch Castle (now Castle-Grant), in the presence of the Laird of Grant, his lady, and several others, and also in the house of the narrator’s father. He said of Argyle, of whom few or none then knew where he was, that he would within two months come to the West Highlands, and raise a rebellious faction, which would be divided in itself, and disperse, while the earl would be taken and beheaded at Edinburgh, and his head set upon the Tolbooth, where his father’s head was before. All this proved strictly true.

Archibald Macdonald was a friend of Macdonald of Glencoe, and accompanied him in the expedition of Lord Dundee in 1689 for the maintenance of King James’s interest in the Highlands. Mr Aubrey’s correspondent, who was then living in Strathspey, relates that Dundee’s irregular forces followed General Mackay’s party along Speyside till they came to Edinglassie, when he turned and marched up the valley. At the Milltown of Gartenbeg, the Macleans joined, but remained behind to plunder. Glencoe, with Archibald in his company, came to drive them forward; and when this had been to some extent effected, the seer came up and said: ‘Glencoe, if you will take my advice, you will make off with yourself with all possible haste. Ere an hour come and go, you’ll be as hard put to it as ever you were in your life.’ Glencoe took the hint, and, within an hour, Mackay appeared at Culnakyle, in Abernethy, with a party of horse, and chased the Macleans up the Morskaith; in which chase Glencoe was involved, and was hard put to it, as had been foretold. It is added, that Archibald likewise foretold that Glencoe would be murdered in the night-time in his own house, three months before it happened.

A well-vouched instance of the second-sight connected with a historical incident, is related by Drummond of Bohaldy, regarding the celebrated Highland paladin, Sir Ewen Cameron of Locheil, who died at the age of ninety in 1719. ‘Very early that morning [Sidenote: 1703.] [December 24, 1715] whereon the Chevalier de St George landed at Peterhead, attended only by Allan Cameron, one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber, Sir Ewen started, as it were, in a surprise, from his sleep, and called out so loud to his lady (who lay by him in another bed) that his king was landed—that his king was arrived—and that his son Allan was with him, that she awaked.’ She then received his orders to summon the clan, and make them drink the king’s (that is, the Chevalier’s) health—a fête they engaged in so heartily, that they spent in it all the next day. ‘His lady was so curious, that she noted down the words upon paper, with the date; which she a few days after found verified in fact, to her great surprise.’ Bohaldy remarks that this case fully approved itself to the whole clan Cameron, as they heard their chief speak of scarcely anything else all that day.[346]

Predictions of death formed a large class of cases of second-sight. The event was usually indicated by the subject of the vision appearing in a shroud, and the higher the vestment rose on the figure, the event was the nearer. ‘If it is not seen above the middle,’ says Martin, ‘death is not to be expected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months longer. When it is seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours, as daily experience confirms. Examples of this kind were shewn me, when the person of whom the observation was made enjoyed perfect health.’ He adds, that sometimes death was foretold of an individual by hearing a loud cry, as from him, out of doors. ‘Five women were sitting together in the same room, and all of them heard a loud cry passing by the window. They thought it plainly to be the voice of a maid who was one of the number. She blushed at the time, though not sensible of her so doing, contracted a fever next day, and died that week.’

In a pamphlet on the second-sight, written by Mr John Fraser, dean of the Isles, and minister of Tiree and Coll, is an instance of predicted death, which the author reports on his own knowledge. Having occasion to go to Tobermory, in Mull, to assist in some government investigations for the recovery of treasure in the vessel of the Spanish Armada known to have been there sunk, he was accompanied by a handsome servant-lad, besides other attendants.[347] A woman came before he sailed, and, through the [Sidenote: 1703.] medium of a seaman, endeavoured to dissuade him from taking that youth, as he would never bring him back alive. The seaman declined to communicate her story to Mr Fraser. The company proceeded on their voyage, and met adverse weather; the boy fell sick, and died on the eleventh day. Mr Fraser, on his return, made a point of asking the woman how she had come to know that this lad, apparently so healthy, was near his death. She told Mr Fraser that she had seen the boy, as he walked about, ‘sewed up in his winding-sheets from top to toe;’ this she always found to be speedily followed by the death of the person so seen.

Martin relates that a woman was accustomed for some time to see a female figure, with a shroud up to the waist, and a habit resembling her own; but as the face was turned away, she never could ascertain who it was. To satisfy her curiosity, she tried an experiment. She dressed herself with that part of her clothes behind which usually was before. The vision soon after presented itself with its face towards the seeress, who found it to be herself. She soon after died.

Although the second-sight had sunk so much in Martin’s time, that, according to him, there was not one seer for ten that had been twenty years before, it continued to be so much in vogue down to the reign of George III., that a separate treatise on the subject, containing scores of cases, was published in 1763 by an educated man styling himself _Theophilus Insulanus_, as a means of checking in some degree the materialising tendencies of the age, this author considering the gift as a proof of the immortality of the soul. When Dr Johnson, a few years later, visited the Highlands, he found the practice, so to speak, much declined, and the clergy almost all against it. Proofs could, nevertheless, be adduced that there are even now, in the remoter parts of the Highlands, occasional alleged instances of what is called second-sight, with a full popular belief in their reality.

[Sidenote: 1704. JAN. 25.]

Charles, Earl of Hopetoun,[348] set forth in a petition to the Privy Council, that in his minority, many years ago, his tutors had caused a windmill to be built at Leith for grinding and refining the ore from his lead-mines. In consequence of the unsettling of a particular bargain, the mill had been allowed to lie unused till now, when it required some repair in order to be fit for service. [Sidenote: 1704.] One John Smith, who had set up a saw-mill in Leith, being the only man _seen_ in this kind of work, had been called into employment by his lordship for the repair of the windmill; but the wright-burgesses of Edinburgh interfered violently with the work, on the ground of their corporation privileges, ‘albeit it is sufficiently known that none of them have been bred to such work or have any skill therein.’ Indeed, some part of the original work done by them had now to be taken down, so ill was it done. It was obviously a public detriment that such a work should thus be brought to a stand-still. The Council, entering into the earl’s views, gave him a protection from the claims of the wright-burgesses.

[Sidenote: FEB.]

It is notorious that the purity of the Court of Session continued down to this time to be subject to suspicion. It was generally understood that a judge favoured his friends and connections, and could be ‘spoken to’ in behalf of a party in a suit. The time was not yet long past when each lord had a ‘Pate’—that is, a dependent member of the bar (sometimes called Peat), who, being largely fee’d by a party, could on that consideration influence his patron.

A curious case, illustrative of the character of the bench, was now in dependence. The heritors of the parish of Dalry raised an action for the realisation of a legacy of £3000, which had been left to them for the founding of a school by one Dr Johnston. The defender was John Joissy, surgeon, an executor of the testator, who resisted the payment of the money on certain pretexts. With the assistance of Alexander Gibson of Durie, a principal clerk of Session, Joissy gained favour with a portion of the judges, including the president. On the other hand, the heritors, under the patronage of the Earl of Galloway, secured as many on their side. A severe contest was therefore to be expected. According to a report of the case in the sederunt-book of the parish, the Lord President managed to have it judged under circumstances favourable to Joissy. The court having ‘accidentally appointed a peremptor day about the beginning of February 1704 for reporting and deciding in the cause, both parties concluded that the parish would then gain it, since one of Mr Joissy’s lords came to be then absent. For as my Lord Anstruther’s hour in the Outer House was betwixt nine and ten of the clock in the morning, so the Earl of Lauderdale, as Lord Ordinary in the Outer House, behoved to sit from ten to twelve in [Sidenote: 1704.] the forenoon: for by the 21st act of the fourth session of the first parliament of King William and Queen Mary, it’s statuted expressly, that if the Lord Ordinary in the Outer Houses sit and vote in any cause in the Inner House after the chap of ten hours in the clock, he may be _declined_ by either party in the cause from ever voting thereafter therintill: yet such was the Lord President’s management, that so soon as my Lord Anstruther returned from the Outer House at ten of the clock, and that my Lord Lauderdale was even desired by some of the lords to take his post in the Outer House in the terms of law: yet his lordship was pleased after ten to sit and vote against the parish, the president at that juncture having put the cause to a vote.’

The heritors, by the advice of some of the lords in their interest, gave in a declinature of Lord Lauderdale, on the ground of the illegality of his sitting in the Inner House after ten o’clock; whereupon, next morning, the Lord President came into the court in a great rage, demanding that all those concerned in the declinature should be punished as criminals. The leading decliner, Mr Ferguson of Cairoch, escaped from town on horseback, an hour before the macer came to summon him. The counsel, John Menzies of Cammo, and the agent, remained to do what they could to still the storm. According to the naïve terms of the report, ‘the speat [flood] was so high against the parish and them all the time, that they behoved to employ all their friends, and solicit a very particular lord that morning before they went to the house; and my Lord President was so high upon’t, that when Cammo told him that my Lord Lauderdale, contrair to the act of parliament, sat after ten o’clock, his lordship unmannerly said to Cammo, as good a gentleman as himself, that it was a damned lie.’

Menzies, though a very eminent counsel, and the agent, found all their efforts end in an order for their going to jail, while a suitable punishment should be deliberated upon. After some discussion, a slight calm ensued, and they were liberated on condition of coming to the bar as malefactors, and there begging the Earl of Lauderdale’s pardon. The parish report states that no remedy could be obtained, for ‘the misery at that time was that the lords were in effect absolute, for they did as they pleased, and when any took courage to protest for remeid of law to the Scots parliament, they seldom or never got any redress there, all the lords being still present, by which the parliament [Sidenote: 1704.] was so overawed that not ane decreit among a hundred was reduced.’[349]

It is strange to reflect, that among these judges were Lord Fountainhall and Lord Arniston, with several other men who had resisted tyrannous proceedings of the old government, to their own great suffering and loss. Wodrow promises of Halcraig, that, for his conduct regarding the test in 1684, his memory would be ‘savoury.’ The same author, speaking of the set in 1726 as dying out, says he wishes their places may be as well filled. ‘King William,’ he says, ‘brought in a good many substantial, honest country gentlemen, well affected to the government and church, and many of them really religious, though there might be some greater lawyers than some of them have been and are. But, _being men of integrity and weight, they have acted a fair and honest part these thirty years_, and keep the bench in great respect. May their successors be equally diligent and conscientious!’[350] Of course, by fairness and honesty, Wodrow chiefly meant soundness in revolution politics, and steadfast adherence to the established church.

Another instance of the vigorous action of the Lords in the maintenance of their dignity occurred in December 1701. A gentleman, named Cannon of Headmark, having some litigation with the Viscount Stair and Sir James Dalrymple, his brother Alexander, an agent before the court, used some indiscreet expressions regarding the judges in a paper drawn up by him. Being called before the Lords, and having acknowledged the authorship of the paper, he was sent to prison for a month, ordered then to crave pardon of the court on his knees, and thereafter to be for ever debarred from carrying on business as an agent.[351]

Some letters regarding a lawsuit of William Foulis of Woodhall in 1735–37, which have been printed,[352] shew that it was even then still customary to use influence with the Lords in favour of parties, and the female connections appear as taking a large share in the business. One sentence is sufficient to reveal the whole system. ‘By Lord St Clair’s advice, Mrs Kinloch is to wait on Lady Cairnie to-morrow, to cause her to ask the favour of Lady St Clair to solicit Lady Betty Elphinston and Lady Dun’—the former being the wife of Lord Coupar, and the [Sidenote: 1704.] latter of Lord Dun, two of the judges. Lord St Clair’s hint to Mrs Kinloch to get her friend to speak to his own wife—he thus keeping clear of the affair himself—is a significant particular. Lord Dun, who wrote a moral volume, entitled _Advices_,[353] and was distinguished for his piety, is spoken of by tradition as such a lawyer as might well be open to any force that was brought to bear upon him. The present Sir George Sinclair heard Mr Thomas Coutts relate that, when a difficult case came before the court, where Lord Dun acted alone as ‘ordinary,’ he was heard to say: ‘Eh, Lord, what am I to do? Eh, sirs, I wiss ye wad mak it up.’

It will be surprising to many to learn that the idea of having ‘friends’ to a cause on the bench was not entirely extinct in a reign which people in middle life can well recollect. The amiable Charles Duke of Queensberry, who had been the patron of Gay, was also the friend of James Burnett of Monboddo, and had exacted a promise that Burnett should be the next person raised to the bench. ‘On Lord Milton’s death (1767), the duke waited on his majesty, and reminded him of his promise, which was at once admitted, and orders were immediately given to the secretary of state [Conway] to make out the royal letter. The lady of the secretary was nearly allied to the family of Hamilton, and being most naturally solicitous about the vote which Mr Burnett might give in the great cause of which he had taken so much charge as a counsel, she and the Duchess of Hamilton and Argyle were supposed to have induced their brother-in-law, Mr Secretary Conway, to withhold for many weeks the letter of appointment, and is even supposed to have represented Mr Burnett’s character in such unfavourable colours to the Lord Chancellor Henley, that his lordship is reported to have jocosely declared, that if she could prove her allegations against that gentleman, instead of making him a judge, he would _hang_ him. This delay gave rise to much idle conjecture and conversation in Edinburgh, and it was confidently reported that Mr Burnett’s appointment would not take place till after the decision of the Douglas cause. Irritated by these insinuations against his integrity, he wrote to the Duke of Queensberry, declaring that if his integrity as a judge could be questioned in this cause, he should positively refuse to be trusted with any other; and so highly did he resent the opposition made by the secretary to his promotion, that he took measures for [Sidenote: 1704.] canvassing his native county, in order to oppose in parliament a ministry who had so grossly affronted him. The Duke of Queensberry, equally indignant at the delay, requested an audience of his majesty, and tendered a surrender of his commission as justice-general of Scotland, if the royal promise was not fulfilled. In a few days the letter was despatched, and Lord Monboddo took his seat in the court.’[354]

[Sidenote: FEB. 2.]

Under the excitement created by the news of a Jacobite plot, the zealous Presbyterians of Dumfriesshire rose to wreak out their long pent-up feelings against the Catholic gentry of their district. Having fallen upon sundry houses, and pillaged them of popish books, images, &c., they marched in warlike manner to Dumfries, under the conduct of James Affleck of Adamghame and John M‘Jore of Kirkland, and there made solemn incremation of their spoil at the Cross.

A number of ‘popish vestments, trinkets, and other articles’ having been found about the same time in and about Edinburgh, the Privy Council (March 14) ordered such of them as were not intrinsically valuable to be burned next day at the Cross; but the chalice, patine, and other articles in silver and gold, to be melted down, and the proceeds given to the kirk-treasurer.[355]

Notwithstanding this treatment, we find it reported in 1709, that ‘papists do openly and avowedly practise within the city of Edinburgh and suburbs.’ It was intimated at the same time, that there is ‘now also a profane and deluded crew of enthusiasts, set up in this place, who, under pretence to the spirit of prophecy, do utter most horrid blasphemies against the ever-glorious Trinity, such as ought not to be suffered in any Christian church or nation.’[356]

Sir George Maxwell of Orchardton, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, having gone over to the Church of Rome, and the next heir, who was a Protestant, being empowered by the statute of 1700 to claim his estate, his uncle, Thomas Maxwell of Gelstoun, a man of seventy years of age, came forward on this adventure (June 1704), further demanding that the young baronet should be decerned to pay him six thousand merks as a year’s rent of his estate for employing George Maxwell of Munshes, a known [Sidenote: 1704.] papist, to be his factor, and five hundred more from Munshes himself for accepting the trust.

A petition presented by the worthy Protestant uncle to the Privy Council, makes us aware that George Maxwell of Munshes, ‘finding he would be reached for accepting the said factory, out of malice raised a lawburrows,’ in which Orchardton concurred, though out of the kingdom, against Gelstoun and his son, as a mere pretext for stopping proceedings; but he trusted the Lords would see through the trick, and defeat it by accepting the cautioners he offered for its suspension. The Council, doubtless duly indignant that a papist should so try to save his property, complied with Gelstoun’s petition.[357]

[Sidenote: APR. 12.]

A statute of the Sixth James, anno 1621—said to have been borrowed from one of Louis XIII. of France—had made it unlawful for any tavern-keeper to allow individuals to play in his house at cards and dice, or for any one to play at such games in a private house, unless where the master of the house was himself playing; likewise ordaining, that any sum above a hundred merks gained at horse-racing, or in less than twenty-four hours at other play, should be forfeited to the poor of the district. During the ensuing period of religious strictness, we hear little of gambling in Scotland, but when the spring was relaxed, it began to reappear with other vices of ease and prosperity. A case, reported in the law-books under July 1688, makes us aware, as by a peep through a curtain, that gentlemen were accustomed at that time to win and lose at play sums which appear large in comparison with incomes and means then general. It appears that Captain Straiton, who was well known afterwards as a busy Jacobite partisan, won from Sir Alexander Gilmour of Craigmillar, at cards, in one night, no less than six thousand merks, or £338, 6_s._ 8_d._ sterling. The captain first gained four thousand, for which he obtained a bond from Sir Alexander; then he gained two thousand more, and got a new bond for the whole. An effort was made to reduce the bond, but without success.

Francis Charteris, a cadet of an ancient and honourable family in Dumfriesshire, and who had served in Marlborough’s wars, was now figuring in Edinburgh as a member of the _beau monde_, with the reputation of being a highly successful gambler. There is a story told of him—but I cannot say with what truth—that, being at the Duke of Queensberry’s one evening, and playing with the [Sidenote: 1704.] duchess, he was enabled, by means of a mirror, or more probably a couple of mirrors placed opposite each other, to see what cards she had in her hand, through which means he gained from her Grace no less a sum than three thousand pounds. It is added that the duke was provoked by this incident to get a bill passed through the parliament over which he presided, for prohibiting gambling beyond a certain moderate sum; but this must be a mistake, as no such act was then passed by the Scottish Estates; nor was any such statute necessary, while that of 1621 remained in force. We find, however, that the Town Council at this date issued an act of theirs, threatening vigorous action upon the statute of 1621, as concerned playing at cards and dice in public houses, as ‘the occasion of horrid cursing, quarrelling, tippling, loss of time, and neglect of necessary business—the constables to be diligent in detecting offenders, on pain of having to pay the fines themselves.’ Perhaps it was at the instigation of the duke that this step was taken.

From Fountainhall we learn that, about 1707, Sir Andrew Ramsay of Abbotshall lost 28,000 merks, to Sir Scipio Hill, at cards and dice, and granted a bond upon his estate for the amount. This being in contravention of the act of 1621, the kirk-treasurer put in his claim for all above 100 merks on behalf of the poor, but we do not learn with what success.

[Sidenote: JULY 4.]

Sir Thomas Dalyell of Binns—grandson of the old bearded persecutor of the times of the Charleses—had for a long time past been ‘troubled with a sore disease which affects his reason, whereby he is continually exposed to great dangers to his own person, by mobs, and others that does trouble him.’ It was also found that ‘by the force of his disease, he is liable to squander away and dilapidate his best and readiest effects, as is too notourly known.’ Such is the statement of Sir Thomas’s nephew, Robert Earl of Carnwath; his sister, Magdalen Dalyell; and her husband, James Monteith of Auldcathie, craving authority, ‘for the preservation of his person and estate, and also for the public peace,’ to take him into custody in his house of Binns, ‘till means be used for his recovery;’ likewise power to employ a factor ‘for uplifting so much of his rents as may be necessar for his subsistence, and the employing doctors and apothecaries, according to the exigence of his present condition.’

The Council not only granted the petition, but ordained that the petitioners might order up a soldier or two at any [Sidenote: 1704.] time from Blackness, to assist in restraining the unfortunate gentleman.

This Sir Thomas Dalyell died unmarried, leaving his estates and baronetcy to a son of his sister Magdalen, grandfather of the present baronet. The case is cited as shewing the arrangements for a lunatic man of rank in the days of Queen Anne.

[Sidenote: JULY.]

The central authorities were now little inclined to take up cases of sorcery; but it does not appear that on that account witches ceased to be either dreaded or punished. Country magistrates and clergy were always to be found who sympathised with the popular terrors on the subject, and were ready to exert themselves in bringing witches to justice.

At the village of Torryburn, in the western part of Fife, a woman called Jean Neilson experienced a tormenting and not very intelligible ailment, which she chose to attribute to the malpractices of a woman named Lillias Adie. Adie was accordingly taken up by a magistrate, and put in prison. On the 29th July, the minister and his elders met in session, called Lillias before them, and were gratified with an instant confession, to the effect that she had been a witch for several years, having met the devil at the side of a ‘stook’ on the harvest-field, and renounced her baptism to him, not without a tender embrace, on which occasion she found that his skin was cold, and observed his feet cloven like those of a stirk. She had also joined in midnight dances where he was present. Once, at the back of Patrick Sands’s house in Valleyfield, the festivity was lighted by a light that ‘came from darkness,’ not so bright as a candle, but sufficient to let them see each other’s faces, and shew the devil, who wore a cap covering his ears and neck. Several of the women she saw on these occasions she now delated as witches. The session met again and again to hear such recitals, and to examine the newly accused persons. There was little reported but dance-meetings of the alleged witches, and conversations with the devil, the whole bearing very much the character of what we have come to recognise as hallucinations or spectral illusions. Yet the case of Adie was considered sufficient to infer the pains of death, and she was burned within the sea-mark. There were several other solemn meetings of the session to inquire into the cases of the other women accused by Adie; but we do not learn with what result.

The extreme length to which this affair was carried may be partly attributed to the zeal of the minister, the Rev. Allan [Sidenote: 1704.] Logan, who is said to have been particularly knowing in the detection of witches. At the administration of the communion, he would cast his eye along, and say: ‘You witch-wife, get up from the table of the Lord,’ when some poor creature, perhaps conscience-struck with a recollection of wicked thoughts, would rise and depart, thus exposing herself to the hazard of a regular accusation afterwards. He used to preach against witchcraft, and we learn that, in 1709, a woman called Helen Key was accused before the Torryburn session of using some disrespectful language about him in consequence. She told a neighbour, it appears, that on hearing him break out against the witches, she thought him ‘daft’ [mad], and took up her stool and left the kirk. For this she was convicted of profanity, and ordained to sit before the congregation and be openly rebuked.[358]

Rather earlier in the year, there was a remarkable outbreak of diablerie at the small seaport burgh of Pittenweem, in the eastern part of Fife. Here lived a woman named Beatrix or Beatie Laing, described as ‘spouse to William Brown, tailor, late treasurer of the burgh,’ and who must therefore be inferred to have been not quite amongst the poorer class of people. In a petition from the magistrates (June 13, 1704) to the Privy Council, it was stated that Patrick Morton was a youth of sixteen, ‘free of any known vice,’ and that, being employed by his father to make some nails for a ship belonging to one of the merchants in Pittenweem, he was engaged at that work in his father’s smithy, when Beatrix Laing came and desired him to make some nails for her. He modestly refused, alleging that he was engaged in another job requiring haste, whereupon she went away ‘threatening to be revenged, which did somewhat frighten him, because he knew she was under a bad fame and reputed for a witch.’

Next day, as he passed Beatrix’s door, ‘he observed a timber vessel with some water and a fire-coal in it at the door, which made him apprehend that it was a charm laid for him, and the effects of her threatening; and immediately he was seized with such a weakness in his limbs, that he could hardly stand or walk.’ He continued for many weeks in a languishing condition, in spite of all that physicians could do for him, ‘still growing worse, having no appetite, and his body strangely emaciated. About the beginning of May, his case altered to the worse by his having [Sidenote: 1704.] such strange and unusual fits as did astonish all onlookers. His belly at times was distended to a great height; at other times, the bones of his back and breast did rise to a prodigious height, and suddenly fell,’ while his breathing ‘was like to the blowing of a bellows.’ At other times, ‘his body became rigid and inflexible, insomuch that neither his arms nor legs could be bowed or moved by any strength, though frequently tried.’ His senses were ‘benumbed, and yet his pulse [continued] in good order.’ His head sometimes turned half about, and no force could turn it back again. He suffered grievous agonies. His tongue was occasionally drawn back in his throat, ‘especially when he was telling who were his tormentors.’ Sometimes the magistrates or minister brought these people to his house, and before he saw them, he would cry out they were coming, and name them. The bystanders would cover his face, bring in the women he had accused of tormenting him, besides others, and cause them to touch him in succession; when he expressed pain as the alleged tormentors laid their hands upon him, and in the other instances ‘no effect followed.’ It seemed to the magistrates that the young man was in much the same condition with ‘that of Bargarran’s daughter in the west.’

Beatrix, and the other accused persons, were thrown into the jail of the burgh by the minister and magistrates, with a guard of drunken fellows to watch over them. Beatrix steadily refused to confess being a witch, and was subjected to pricking, and kept awake for five days and nights, in order to bring her to a different frame of mind. Sorely wounded, and her life a burden to her, she at length was forced, in order to be rid of the torment, to admit what was imputed to her. It will thus be observed that the humane practice maintained during the whole of the late cavalier reigns, of only accepting _voluntary_ confessions from persons taxed with witchcraft, was no longer in force. The poor woman afterwards avowing that what she had told them of her seeing the devil and so forth was false, ‘they put her in the stocks, and then carried her to the Thieves’ Hole, and from that transported her to a dark dungeon, where she was allowed no manner of light, or human converse, and in this condition she lay for five months.’ During this interval, the sapient magistrates, with their parish minister, were dealing with the Privy Council to get the alleged witches brought to trial. At first, the design was entertained of taking them to Edinburgh for that purpose; but ultimately, through the humane interference of the Earl of [Sidenote: 1704.] Balcarres and Lord Anstruther,[359] two members of council connected with the district, the poor women were set at liberty on bail (August 12). This, however, was so much in opposition to the will of the rabble, that Beatrix Laing was obliged to decamp from her native town. ‘She wandered about in strange places, in the extremity of hunger and cold, though she had a competency at home, but dared not come near her own house for fear of the fury and rage of the people.’

It was indeed well for this apparently respectable woman that she, for the meantime, remained at a distance from home. While she was wandering about, another woman, named Janet Cornfoot, was put in confinement at Pittenweem, under a specific charge from Alexander Macgregor, a fisherman, to the effect that he had been beset by her and two others one night, along with the devil, while sleeping in his bed. By torture, Cornfoot was forced into acknowledging this fact, which she afterwards denied privately, under equal terror for the confession and the retractation. However, her case beginning to attract attention from some persons of rank and education in the neighbourhood, the minister seems to have become somewhat doubtful of it, and by his connivance she escaped. Almost immediately, an officious clergyman of the neighbourhood apprehended her again, and sent her back to Pittenweem in the custody of two men.

Falling there into the hands of the populace, the wretched woman was tied hard up in a rope, beaten unmercifully, and then dragged by the heels through the streets and along the shore. The appearance of a bailie for a brief space dispersed the crowd, but only to shew how easily the authorities might have protected the victim, if they had chosen. Resuming their horrible work, the rabble tied Janet to a rope stretching between a vessel in the harbour and the shore, swinging her to and fro, and amusing themselves by pelting her with stones. Tiring at length of this sport, they let her down with a sharp fall upon the beach, beat her again unmercifully, and finally, covering her with a door, pressed her to death (January 30, 1705). A daughter of the [Sidenote: 1704.] unhappy woman was in the town, aware of what was going on, but prevented by terror from interceding. This barbarity lasted altogether three hours, without any adequate interruption from either minister or magistrates. Nearly about the same time, Thomas Brown, one of those accused by the blacksmith, died in prison, ‘after a great deal of hunger and hardship;’ and the bodies of both of these victims of superstition were denied Christian burial.

The matter attracted the attention of the Privy Council, who appointed a committee to inquire into it, but the ringleaders of the mob had fled; so nothing could be immediately done. After some time, they were allowed to return to the town free of molestation on account of the murder. Well, then, might Beatrix Laing dread returning to her husband’s comfortable house in this benighted burgh. After a few months, beginning to gather courage, she did return, yet not without being threatened by the rabble with the fate of Janet Cornfoot; wherefore it became necessary for her to apply to the Privy Council for a protection. By that court an order was accordingly issued to the Pittenweem magistrates, commanding them to defend her from any tumults, insults, or violence that might be offered to her.

At the close of this year, George and Lachlan Rattray were in durance at Inverness, ‘alleged guilty of the horrid crimes of mischievous charms, by witchcraft and malefice, sorcery or necromancy.’ It being inconvenient to bring them to Edinburgh for trial, the Lords of Privy Council issued a commission to Forbes of Culloden, Rose of Kilravock, ... Baillie, commissary of Inverness, and some other gentlemen, to try the offenders. The judges, however, were enjoined to transmit their judgment for consideration, and not allow it to be put in execution without warrant from the Council.

On the 16th July 1706, a committee of Council took into consideration the verdict in the case of the two Rattrays, and finding it ‘agreeable to the probation,’ ordained the men to be executed, under the care of the magistrates of Inverness, on the last Wednesday of September next to come. This order is subscribed by Montrose, Buchan, Northesk, Forfar, Torphichen, Elibank, James Stewart, Gilbert Elliot, and Alexander Douglas.

[Sidenote: AUG. 25.]

The functions of the five Lords Commissioners of Justiciary being of the utmost importance, ‘concerning both the lives and fortunes of her majesty’s lieges,’ the parliament settled on these [Sidenote: 1704.] officers a salary of twelve hundred pounds Scots each, being about one hundred pounds sterling.[360] They had previously had the same income nominally, but being payable by precept of the commissioners of the treasury, or the cash-keeper, it was, like most such dues, difficult to realise, and, perhaps, could scarcely be said to exist.

At this time, the fifteen judges of the Court of Session had each two hundred pounds sterling per annum, the money being derived from a grant of £20,000 Scots out of the customs and interest on certain sums belonging to the court.[361] Five of them, who were lords of the criminal court also, were, as we here see, endowed with a further salary, making three hundred in all. The situation of president—‘ane imployment of great weight, requiring are assiduous and close application,’ says the second President Dalrymple[362]—had usually, in addition to the common salary, a pension, and a present of wines from the Treasury, making up his income to about a thousand a year. By the grace of Queen Anne, after the Union, the puisne judges of the Court of Session got £300 a year additional, making five hundred in all;[363] and this was their income for many years thereafter, the president continuing to have one thousand per annum. In the salaries of the same officers at the present day—£3000 to a puisne civil judge, with expenses when he goes on circuit; £4800 to the President; and to the Lord Justice-clerk, £4500—we see, as powerfully as in anything, the contrast between the Scotland of a hundred and fifty years ago, and the Scotland of our own time.

[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]

Patrick Smith professed to have found out a secret ‘whereby malt may be dried by all sorts of fuel, whether coals, wood, or turf, so as to receive no impression from the smoke thereof, and that in a more short and less expensive manner than hath been known in the kingdom.’ He averred that ‘the drink brewn of the said malt will be as clear as white wine, free of all bad tincture, more relishing and pleasant to the taste, and altogether more agreeable to human health than the ale hath been heretofore known in the kingdom.’ Seeing how ‘ale is the ordinary drink of the inhabitants thereof,’ the public utility of the discovery was obvious. Patrick announced himself to the Privy Council as [Sidenote: 1704.] willing to communicate his secret for the benefit of the country, if allowed during a certain term to use it in an exclusive manner, and sell the same right to others.

Their Lordships granted the desired privilege for nine years.

[Sidenote: AUG. 30.]

Ever since the year 1691, there had been a garrison of government soldiers in Invergarry House, in Inverness-shire, the residence of Macdonald of Glengarry. The proprietor esteemed himself a sufferer to the extent of a hundred and fifty pounds a year, by damages to his lands and woods, besides the want of the use of his house, which had been reduced to a ruinous condition; and he now petitioned the government for some redress, as well as for a removal of the garrison, the ‘apparent cause’ of planting which had long ago ceased, ‘all that country being still peaceable and quiet in due obedience to authority, without the least apprehension of disturbance or commotion.’

The Council ordered Macdonald to be heard in his own cause before the Lords of the Treasury, in presence of Brigadier Maitland, governor of Fort-William, that a statement might be drawn up and laid before the queen. ‘His circumstances,’ however, ‘being such, that he cannot safely appear before their Lordships without ane personal protection,’ the Council had to grant a writ discharging all macers and messengers from putting any captions to execution against him up to the 20th of September.

Before the time for the conference arrived, the Duke of Argyle put in a representation making a claim upon Glengarry’s estate, so that it became necessary to call in the aid of the Lord Advocate to make up the statement for the royal consideration.

[Sidenote: SEP. 16.]

The family of the Gordons of Gicht have already attracted our attention by their troubles as Catholics under Protestant persecution, and their tendency to wild and lawless habits. After two generations of silence, the family comes up again in antagonism to the law, but in the person of the husband of an heiress. It appears that the Miss Gordon of Gicht who gave birth to George Lord Byron, was not the first heiress who married unfortunately.

The _heretrix_ of this period had taken as her husband Alexander Davidson, younger of Newton, who, on the event, became with his father (a rich man) bound to relieve the mother of his bride—‘the old Lady Gicht’—of the debts of the family, in requital for certain advantages conferred upon him. The mother had married as a [Sidenote: 1704.] second husband Major-general Buchan, who commanded the Cavalier army after the death of Lord Dundee, till he was defeated by Sir Thomas Livingstone at Cromdale. By and by, Alexander Davidson, under fair pretences, through James Hamilton of Cowbairdie, borrowed from his mother-in-law her copy of the marriage-contract, which had not yet been registered; and when the family creditors applied for payment of their debts, he did not scruple to send them, or allow them to go to the old Lady Gicht and her husband for payment. They, beginning to feel distressed by the creditors, sought back the copy of the contract for their protection; but as no entreaty could induce Davidson to return it to Cowbairdie, they were obliged at last to prosecute the latter gentleman for its restitution.

Cowbairdie, being at length, at the instance of old Lady Gicht and her husband, taken upon a legal caption, was, with the messenger, John Duff, at the Milton of Fyvie, at the date noted, on his way to prison, when Davidson came to him with many civil speeches, expressive of his regret for what had taken place. He entreated Duff to leave Cowbairdie there on his parole of honour, and go and intercede with General Buchan and his wife for a short respite to his prisoner, on the faith that the contract should be registered within a fortnight, which he pledged himself should be done. Duff executed this commission successfully; but when he came back, Davidson revoked his promise. It chanced that another gentleman had meanwhile arrived at the Milton, one Patrick Gordon, who had in his possession a caption against Davidson for a common debt of a hundred pounds due to himself. Seeing of what stuff Davidson was made, he resolved no longer to delay putting this in execution; so he took Duff aside, and put the caption into his hand, desiring him to take Gicht, as he was called, into custody, which was of course immediately done.

In the midst of these complicated proceedings, a message came from the young Lady Gicht, entreating them to come to the family mansion, a few miles off, where she thought all difficulties might be accommodated. The whole party accordingly went there, and were entertained very hospitably till about two o’clock in the morning (Sunday), when the strangers rose to depart, and Davidson came out to see them to horse, as a host was bound to do in that age, but with apparently no design of going along with them. Duff was not so far blinded by the Gicht hospitality, as to forget that he would be under a very heavy responsibility if he should allow Davidson to slip through his fingers. Accordingly, [Sidenote: 1704.] he reminded the laird that he was a prisoner, and must come along with them; whereupon Davidson drew his sword, and called his servants to the rescue, but was speedily overpowered by the messenger and his assistant, and by the other gentlemen present. He and Cowbairdie were, in short, carried back as prisoners that night to the Milton of Fyvie.

This place being on the estate of Gicht, Duff bethought him next day that, as the tenants were going to church, they might gather about their captive laird, and make an unpleasant disturbance; so he took forward his prisoners to the next inn, where they rested till the Sabbath was over. Even then, at Davidson’s entreaty, he did not immediately conduct them to prison, but waited over Monday and Tuesday, while friends were endeavouring to bring about an accommodation. This was happily so far effected, the Earl of Aberdeen, and his son Lord Haddo, paying off Mr Gordon’s claim on Davidson, and certain relatives becoming bound for the registration of the marriage-contract.

From whatever motive—whether, as alleged, to cover a vitiation in the contract, or merely out of revenge—Davidson soon after raised a process before the Privy Council against Cowbairdie, Gordon, and Duff, for assault and private imprisonment, concluding for three thousand pounds of damages; but after a long series of proceedings, in the course of which many witnesses were examined on both sides, the case was ignominiously dismissed, and Davidson decerned to pay a thousand merks as expenses.[364]

[Sidenote: DEC.]

Cash being scarce in the country, a rumour arose—believed to be promoted by malicious persons—that the Privy Council intended by proclamation to raise the value of the several coins then current. The unavoidable consequence was a run upon the Bank of Scotland, which lasted twenty days, and with such severity, that at last the money in its coffers was exhausted, and payments at the bank were suspended; being the only stoppage or suspension, properly so called, which has ever taken place in this venerable institution since its starting in 1695, down to the present day, besides one of an unimportant character, to be afterwards adverted to. ‘That no person possessed of bank-notes should be a loser, by having their money lie dead and useless, the proprietors of the bank, in a general meeting, declared all bank-notes then current to bear interest from the day that payments [Sidenote: 1704.] were stopped, until they should be called in by the directors in order to payment.’[365]

[Sidenote: DEC. 19.]

The Court of Directors (December 19) petitioned the Privy Council to send a committee to inspect their books, and ‘therein see the sufficiency of the security to the nation for the bank-notes that are running, and to take such course as in their wisdom they might think fit, for the satisfaction of those who might have bank-notes in their hands.’

Accordingly, a committee of Council, which included Lord Belhaven, the President of the Court of Session, the Lord Advocate, and the Treasurer-depute, met in the bank-office at two o’clock next day; and having examined the accounts both in charge and discharge, found that ‘the bank hath sufficient provisions to satisfy and pay all their outstanding bills and debts, and that with a considerable overplus, exceeding by a fourth part at least the whole foresaid bills and debts, conform to ane abstract of the said account left in the clerk of Council’s hands for the greater satisfaction of all concerned.’[366]

This report being, by permission of the Privy Council, printed, ‘gave such universal satisfaction, that payments thereafter were as current as ever, and no stop in business, everybody taking bank-notes, as if no stop had been for want of specie, knowing that they would at last get their money with interest.

‘At this time, the Company thought fit to call in a tenth of stock [£10,000] from the adventurers, which was punctually paid by each adventurer [being exactly a duplication of the acting capital, which was only £10,000 before]; and in less than five months thereafter, the Company being possessed of a good cash, the directors called in the notes that were charged with interest, and issued new notes, or made payments in money, in the option of the possessors of the old notes. And very soon the affairs and negotiations of the bank went on as formerly, and all things continued easy until the year 1708.’[367]

[Sidenote: DEC.]

Notwithstanding the extreme poverty now universally complained of, whenever a man of any figure or importance died, there was enormous expense incurred in burying him. On the death, at this time, of Lachlan Mackintosh of Mackintosh—that is, the chief of the clan Mackintosh—there were funeral [Sidenote: 1704.] entertainments at his mansion in Inverness-shire for a whole month. Cooks and confectioners were brought from Edinburgh, at great expense, to provide viands for the guests, and liquors were set aflowing in the greatest profusion. On the day of the interment, the friends and dependants of the deceased made a procession, reaching all the way from Dalcross Castle to the kirk of Petty, a distance of four miles! ‘It has been said that the expense incurred on this occasion proved the source of pecuniary embarrassments to the Mackintosh family to a recent period.’[368]