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THE SUICIDE’S GRAVE
BY
JAMES HOGG
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THE NEW YORK
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Fumes Hogg

HE SUICIDE’S GRAVE
BEING THE PRIVATE
MEMCHRS & CONFESSHDNS
OF A JUSTTFIED SINNER
'WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
WITH A DETAIL OF CURIOUS
TRADITIONARY FACTS
& OTHER EVIDENCE
BY THE EDITOR
PHOTOGRAVURES BY
R. EASTON STUART
-------
LONDON MDébﬁXtiﬁf“ ‘
J. SHIELLS & co]
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PUBLISHERS’ NOTE
THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS OF A JUSTIFIED
SINNER, originally published anonymously in 1824, was
in 1828 either reprinted, or more probably reissued
with a cancel title page, as THE SUICIDE’S GRAVE, this
time bearing the author’s name. It has also been re-
printed in the collected editions of Hogg’s works, as THE
CONFESSIONS OF A FANATIC, but in more than one of
these in a very imperfect form. The text here followed
is that of the original edition. Mr Andrew Lang and
some others incline to the opinion that the book was not
wholly written by Hogg, but that J.- G. Lockhart had
some part in its production ; for this opinion, however,
there is no documentary support.
I'I-l
c‘d
en


_
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
DALCASTLE
‘N0NE OF YOUR PROFANITY BEFORE ME’
AN EVENING SPENT IN GLEE .
THE DUEL
FAc SIMILE OF PART OF PAGE 249
‘ESCAPE HOMEWARDS AND SAVE YOUR sour.’
CHANGING HABITS WITH THE'PRINGE
PAGE
Frontzkpiece
16
S4
82
99
164
217


p4,


l
l
l
THE EDITOR’S NARRATIVE
IT appears from tradition, as well as some parish
registers still extant, that the lands of Dalcastle (or
Dalchastel, as it is often spelled) were possessed by a
family of the name of Colwan, about one hundred and
ﬁfty years ago, and for at least a century previous to
that period. That family was supposed to have been
a branch of the ancient family of Colquhoun, and it
is certain that from it spring the Cowans that spread
towards the Border. I ﬁnd, that in the year 1687,
George Colwan succeeded his uncle of the same name,
in the lands of Dalchastel and Balgrennan; and this
being all I can gather of the family from history, to tra-
dition I must appeal for the remainder of the motley
adventures of that house. But of the matter furnished
by the latter of these powerful monitors I have no
reason to complain: it has been handed down to the
world in unlimited abundance; and I am certain, that in
recording the hideous events which follow, I am only
relating to the greater part of the inhabitants of at
least four counties of Scotland, matters of which they
were before perfectly well informed.
This George was a rich man, or supposed to be so,
A


d-‘
2 The Private Memoirs am.
and was married when considerably advanced in life to
the sole heiress and reputed daughter of a Bailie Orde,
of Glasgow. This proved a conjunction anything but
agreeable to the parties contracting. It is well known
that the Reformation principles had long before that
time taken a powerful hold of the hearts and affections
of the people of Scotland, although the feeling was by
no means general, or in equal degrees; and it so
happened that this married couple felt completely at
variance on the subject. Granting it to have been so,
one would have thought that the laird, owing to his
retired situation, would have been the one that inclined
to the stern doctrines of the reformers; and that the
young and gay dame from the city would have adhered
to the free principles cherished by the court party, and
indulged in rather to extremity, in opposition to their
severe and carping contemporaries.
The contrary, however, happened to be the case. The
laird was what his country neighbours called ‘a droll,
careless chap,’ with a very limited proportion of the fear
of God in his heart, and very nearly as little of the fear
of man. The laird had not intentionally wronged or
offended either of the parties, and perceived not the
necessity of deprecating their vengeance. He had
hitherto believed that he was living in most cordial terms
with the greater part of the inhabitants of the earth, and
with the powers above in particular; but woe be unto
him if he was not soon convinced of the fallacy of such
damning security ! for his lady was the most severe and
gloomy of all bigots to the principles of the Reformation.
Hers were not the tenets of the great reformers, but
theirs mightily overstrained and deformed. Theirs .was
an unguent hard to be swallowed; but hers was that


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 3
unguent embittered and overheated until nature could
not longer bear it. She had imbibed her ideas from the
doctrines of one ﬂaming predestinarian divine alone,
and these were so rigid, that they became a stumbling
block to many of his brethren, and a mighty handle for
the enemies of his party to turn the machine of the state
against them.
The wedding festivities at Dalcastle partook of all the
gaiety, not of that stem age, but of one previous to it.
There was feasting, dancing, piping, and singing ; the
liquors were handed around in great fulness, the ale in
large wooden bickers, and the brandy in capacious horns
of oxen. The laird gave full scope to his homely glee.
He danced—he snapped his ﬁngers to the music—clapped
his hands and shouted at the turn of the tune. He saluted
every girl in the hall whose appearance was anything
tolerable, and requested of their sweethearts to take the
same freedom with his bride, by way of retaliation. But
there she sat at the head of the hall, in still and blooming
beauty, absolutely refusing to tread a single measure with
any gentleman there. The only enjoyment in which she
appeared to partake, was in now and then stealing a word
of sweet conversation with her favourite pastor about
divine things; for he had accompanied her home, after
marrying her to her husband, to see her fairly settled in
her new dwelling. He addressed her several times by her
new name, Mrs Colwan, but she turned away her head
disgusted, and looked with pity and contempt towards
the old inadvertent sinner, capering away in the height
of his unregenerated mirth. The minister perceived the
workings of her pious mind, and thenceforward addressed
her by the courteous title of Lady Dalcastle, which
sounded somewhat better, as not coupling her name with
.r


4 The Private Memoirs and
one of the wicked; and there is too great reason to
believe, that for all the solemn vows she had come under,
and these were of no ordinary binding, particularly on
the laird’s part, she at that time despised if not abhorred
him, in her heart.
The good parson again blessed her, and went away.
She took leave of him with tears in her eyes, entreating
him often to visit her in that heathen land of the Amorite,
the Hittite, and the Girgashite ; to which he assented on
many solemn and qualifying conditions—and the comely
bride retired to her chamber to pray.
It was customary in those days for the bride’s-man and
maiden, and a few select friends, to visit the new-married
couple after they had retired to rest, and drink a cup to
their healths, their happiness, and a numerous posterity.
But the laird delighted not in this: he wished to have
his jewel to himself, and slipping away quietly from his
jovial party, he retired to his chamber to his beloved,
and bolted the door. He found her engaged with the
writings of the Evangelists, and terribly demure. The
laird went up to caress her, but she turned away her head,
and spoke of the follies of aged men, and something of
the broad way that leadeth to destruction. The laird did
not thoroughly comprehend this allusion; but being con-
siderably ﬂustered by drinking, and disposed to take all
in good part, he only remarked, as he took off his shoes
and stockings, ‘That whether the way was broad or narrow,
it was time they were in their bed.’
‘ Sure, Mr Colwan, you won’t go to bed to-night, at
such an important period of your life, without ﬁrst saying
prayers for yourself and me.’
When she said this, the laird had his head down almost
tolthe ground, loosing his shoe-buckle; but when he heard


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 5
of prayers on such a night, he raised his face suddenly up,
which was all over as ﬂushed and red as a rose, and
answered— .
‘ Prayers, mistress! Lord help your crazed head, is
this a night for prayers ! ’
He had better have held his peace. There was such a
torrent of profound divinity poured out upon him, that
the laird became ashamed, both of himself and his new-
made spouse, and wist not what to say, but the brandy
helped him out.
‘It strikes me, my dear, that religious devotion would
be somewhat out of place to-night,’ said he. ‘Allowing
that it is ever so beautiful, and ever so beneﬁcial, were we
to ride on the rigging of it at all times, would we not be
constantly making a farce of it; it would be like reading
the Bible and the jest-book, verse about, and would
render the life of man a medley of absurdity and confusion.’
But against the cant of the bigot or the hypocrite, no
reasoning can aught avail. If you would argue until the
end of life, the infallible creature must alone be right.
So it proved with the laird. One scripture text followed
another, not in the least connected, and one sentence of
the profound Mr Wringhim’s sermons after another,
proving the duty of family worship, till the laird lost
patience, and tossing himself into bed, said carelessly,
that he would leave that duty upon her shoulders for one
night.
The meek mind of Lady Dalcastle was somewhat dis—
arranged by this sudden evolution. She felt that she was
left rather in an awkward situation. However, to show
her unconscionable spouse that she was resolved to hold
fast her integrity, She kneeled down and prayed in terms
so potent, that she deemed she was sure of making an


6 The Private Memoirs and
impression on him. She did so, for in ashort time the
laird began to utter a response so fervent, that she was
utterly astounded, and fairly driven from the chain of
her orisons. He began, in truth, to sound a nasal bugle
of no ordinary calibre—the notes being little inferior to
those of a military trumpet. The lady tried to proceed,
but every returning note from the bed burst on her ear
with a louder twang and a longer peal, till the concord
of sweet sounds became so truly pathetic, that the meek
spirit of the dame was quite overcome ; and after shedding
a ﬂood of tears, she arose from her knees, and retired to
the chimney-corner with her Bible in her lap, there to
spend the hours in holy meditation till such time as the
inebriated trumpeter should awaken to a sense of
propriety.
The laird did not awake in any reasonable time, for
he, being overcome with fatigue and wassail, his sleep
became sounder, and his Morphean measures more
intense. These varied a little in their structure; but
the general run of the bars sounded something in this
way—‘Hic-hoc wheew !’ It was most profoundly ludi-
crous; and could not have missed exciting risibility in
anyone, save a pious, a disappointed, and humbled bride.
The good dame wept bitterly. She could not for her
life go and awaken the monster, and request him to make
room for her, but she retired somewhere, for the laird,
on awaking next morning, found that he was still lying
alone. His sleep had been of the deepest and most
genuine sort; and all the time that it lasted, he had
never once thought of either wives, children, or sweet-
hearts, save in the way of dreaming about them ; but as
his spirit began again by slow degrees to verge towards
the boundaries of reason, it became lighter and more


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 7
buoyant from the effects of deep repose, and his dreams
partook of that buoyancy, yea, to a degree hardly expres-
sible. He dreamed of the reel, the jig, the strathspey,
and the corant ; and the elasticity of his frame was such,
that he was bounding over the heads of the maidens, and
making his feet skimmer against the ceiling, enjoying
the while the most extatic emotions. These grew too
fervent for the shackles of the drowsy god to restrain.
The nasal bugle ceased its prolonged sounds in one
moment, and a sort of hectic laugh took its place.
‘ Keep it going—play up, you devils!’ cried the laird,
without changing his position on the pillow. But this
exertion to hold the ﬁddlers at their work, fairly awakened
the delighted dreamer, and though he could not refrain
from continuing his laugh, he at length, by tracing out a
regular chain of facts, came to be sensible of his real situa-
tion. ‘Rabina, where are you? What’s become of you,
my dear ?’ cried the laird. But there was no voice, nor
any one that answered or regarded. He ﬂung open the
curtains, thinking to ﬁnd her still on her knees, as he
had seen her; but she was not there, either sleeping or
waking. ‘Rabina ! Mrs Colwan ! ’ shouted he, as loud as
he could call, and then added in the same breath, ‘God
save the king—I have lost my wife ! ’
He sprung up and opened the casement ; the daylight
was beginning to streak the east, for it was spring, and
the nights were short, and the mornings very long. The
laird half-dressed himself in an instant, and strode
through every room in the house, opening the windows
as he went, and scrutinisng every bed and every corner.
He came into the hall where the wedding festival had
been held, and as he opened the various window-boards,
loving couples ﬂew off like hares surprised too late in the


8 The Private Memoirs and
morning among the early braird. ‘Hoo-boo ! Fie, be
frightened! ’ cried the laird. ‘Fie, rin like fools, as if ye
were caught in an ill turn!’ His bride was not among
them, so he was obliged to betake himself to farther
search. ‘She will be praying in some corner, poor
woman,’ said he to himself. ‘It is an unlucky thing this
praying. But for my part, I fear I have behaved very
ill, and I must endeavour to make amends.’
The laird continued his search, and at length found his
beloved in the same bed with her Glasgow cousin, who
had acted as bridesmaid. ‘You sly and malevolent imp,’
said the laird ; ‘you have played me such a trick when I
was fast asleep! I have not known a frolic so clever,
and, at the same time, so severe ! Come along, you
baggage you 1’
‘Sir, I will let you know, that I detest your principles
and your person alike,’ said she. ‘It shall never be said,
sir, that my person was at the control of a heathenish
man of Belial—a dangler among the daughters of women,
--a promiscuous dancer—and a player at unlawful games.
F orego your rudeness, sir, I say, and depart away from
my presence and that of my kinswoman.’
‘Come along, I say, my charming Rab. If you were
the pink of all puritans, and the saint of all saints, you are
my wife, and must do as I command you.’
‘Sir, I will sooner lay down my life than be subjected
to your godless will; therefore I say, desist and begone
with you.’
But the laird regarded none of these testysayings ; he
rolled her in a blanket, and bore her triumphantly away
to his 6hamber, taking care to keep a fold or two of the
blanket always rather near to her mouth, in case of any
outrageous forthcoming of noise.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 9
The next day at breakfast the bride was long in
making her appearance. Her maid asked to see her,
but George did not choose that anybody should see her
but himself; he paid her several visits, and always turned
the key as he came out. At length breakfast was
served; and during the time of refreshment the laird
tried to break several jokes, but it was remarked, that
they wanted their accustomed brilliancy, and that his
nose was particularly red at the top.
Matters, without all doubt, had been very bad between
- the new-married couple ; for in the course of the day the
lady deserted her quarters, and returned to her father’s
house in Glasgow, after having been a night on the
road; stage-coaches and steam-boats having then no
existence in that quarter. Though Bailie Orde had
acquiesced in his wife’s asseveration regarding the likeness
of their only daughter to her father, he never loved or
admired her greatly, therefore this behaviour nothing
astounded him. He questioned her strictly as to the
grievous oﬁ'ence committed against her, and could dis-
cover nothing that warranted a procedure so fraught with
disagreeable consequences. So after mature deliberation
the bailie addressed her as follows :—
‘Ay, Ay, Raby! An’ sae I ﬁnd that Dalcastle has
actually refused to say prayers with you when you ordered
him; an’ has guidit you in a rude indelicate manner,
outstepping the respect due to my daughter—as my
daughter. But wi’ regard to what is due to his own
wife, of that he’s a better judge nor me. However,
since he has behaved in that manner to my daughter, I
shall be revenged on him for aince, for I shall return
the obligation to ane nearer to him, that is, I shall take
pennyworths of his wife—an’ let him lick at that.’


10 The Private Memoirs and
‘What do you mean, sir? ’ said the astonished damsel.
‘I mean to be revenged on that villain Dalcastle,’ said
he, ‘for what he has done to my daughter. Come hither,
Mrs Colwan, you shall pay for this.’
So saying, the bailie began to inflict corporeal punish;
ment on the runaway wife. His strokes were not indeed
very deadly, but he made a mighty ﬂourish in the inﬂic-
tion, pretending to be in a great rage only at the Laird
of Dalcastle. ‘Villain that he is! ’ exclaimed he, ‘I shall
teach him to behave in such a manner to a child of mine,
be she as she may; since I cannot get at himself, I shall
lounder her that is nearest to him in life. Take you
that, and that, Mrs Colwan, for your husband’s imper-
tinence !’
The poor afﬂicted woman wept and prayed, but the
bailie would not abate aught of his severity. After
fuming, and beating her with many stripes, far drawn,
and lightly laid down, he took her up to her chamber,
ﬁve stories high, locked her in, and there be fed her on
bread and water, all to be revenged on the presumptuous
laird of Dalcastle ; but ever and anon, as the bailie came
down the stair from carrying his daughter’s meal, he
said to himself, ‘I shall make the sight of the laird
the blithest she ever saw in her life.’
Lady Dalcastle got plenty of time to read, and pray,
and meditate; but she was at a great loss for one to
dispute with about religious tenets; for she found, that
without this advantage, about which there was a perfect
rage at that time, her reading, and learning of Scripture
texts, and sentences of intricate doctrine, availed her
nought; so she was often driven to sit at her casement,
and look out for the approach of the heathenish Laird of
Dalcastle.
Ha .


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. II
That hero, after a considerable lapse of time, at length
made his appearance. Matters were not hard to adjust ;
for his lady found that there was no refuge for her in her
father’s house; and so, after some sighs and tears, she
accompanied her husband home. For all that had
passed, things went on no better. She would convert
the laird in spite of his teeth; the laird would not be
converted. She would have the laird to say family
prayers, both morning and evening: the laird would
neither pray morning nor evening. He would not even
sing psalms, and kneel beside her while she performed
the exercise; neither would he converse at all times
and in all places, about the sacred mysteries of religion,
although his lady took occasion to contradict ﬂatly
every assertion that he made, in order that she might
spiritualise him by drawing him into argument.
The laird kept his temper a long while, but at length
his patience wore out ; he cut her short in all her futile
attempts at spiritualisation, and mocked at her wire-
drawn degrees of faith, hope, and repentance. He also
dared to doubt of the great standard doctrine of absolute
predestination, which put the crown on the lady’s
Christian resentment. She declared her helpmate to be
a limb of Antichrist, and one with whom no regenerated
person could associate. She therefore bespoke a separate
establishment, and before the expiry of the ﬁrst six
months the arrangements of the separation were
amicably adjusted. The upper, or third story of the old
mansion-house, was awarded to the lady for her resi-
dence. She had a separate door, a separate stair, a
separate garden, and walks that in no instance inter-
sected the laird’s; so that one would have thought the
separation complete. They had each their own parties,


12 The Private Memoirs and
selected from their own sort of people; and though the
laird never once chafed himself about the lady’s com-
panions, it was not long before she began to intermeddle
about some of his.
‘Who is that fat bouncing dame that visits the laird
so often, and always by herself?’ said she to her maid
Martha, one day.
‘Oh dear, mem, how can I ken? We’re banished frae
our acquaintances here, as weel as frae the sweet gospel
ordinances.’
‘Find me out who that jolly dame is, Martha. You,
who hold communion with the household of this ungodly
man, can be at no loss to attain this information. I
observe that she always casts her eye up toward our
windows, both im coming and going; and I suspect that
she seldom departs from the house empty-handed.’
That same evening Martha came with the information,
that this august visitor was a Miss Logan, an old and .
intimate acquaintance of the laird’s, and a very worthy ,
respectable lady, of good connections, whose parents had
lost their patrimony in the civil wars.
‘Ha! very well ! ’ said the lady; ‘very well, Martha!
But nevertheless g0 thou and watch this respectable
lady’s motions and behaviour the next time she comes
to visit the laird—and the next after that. You will not,
I see, lack opportunities.’
Martha’s information turned out of that nature, that
prayers were said in the uppermost story of Dalcastle
House against the Canaanitish woman every night and
every morning; and great discontent prevailed there,
even to anathemas and tears. Letter after letter was
despatched to Glasgow; and at length, to .the lady’s
great consolation, the Rev. Mr Wringhim arrived safely


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner.
I3
\
and devoutly in her elevated sanctuary. Marvellous was
the conversation between these gifted people. Wringhim
had held in his doctrines that there were eight different
kinds of FAITH, all perfectly distinct in their operations
and effects. But the lady, in her secluded state, had
discovered other ﬁve—making thirteen in all; the ad-
justment of the existence or fallacy of these ﬁve faiths
served for a most enlightened discussion of nearly seven-
teen hours, in the course of which the two got warm in
their arguments, always in proportion as they receded
from nature, utility, and common sense. Wringhim at
length got into unwonted fervour about some disputed
point between one of these faiths and TRUST ; when the
lady, fearing that zeal was getting beyond its wonted
barrier, broke in on his vehement asseverations with the
following abrupt discomﬁture: ‘But, sir, as long as I
remember, what is to be done with this case of open and
avowed iniquity?’
The minister was struck dumb. He leaned him back
on his chair, stroked his beard, hemmed—considered, and
hemmed again, and then said in an altered and softened
tone: ‘Why, that is a secondary consideration; you
mean the case between your husband and Miss Logan 1’ ’
‘The same, sir. I am scandalised at such intimacies
going on under my nose. The sufferance of it is a
great and crying evil.’
‘Evil, madam, may be either operative, or passive.
To them it is an evil, but to us none. We have no more
to do with the sins of the wicked and unconverted here
than with those of the inﬁdel Turk; for all earthly
bonds and fellowships are absorbed and swallowed up in
the holy community of the Reformed Church. However,
if it is your wish, I shall take him to task, and reprimand
_-t..x


14 The Private Memoirs and
and humble him in -such a manner that he shall be
ashamed of his doings, and renounce such deeds for ever,
out of mere self-respect, though all unsanctiﬁed the heart,
as well as the deed may be. To the wicked, all things
are wicked; but to the just, all things are just and
right.’
‘Ah, that is a sweet and comfortable saying, Mr
Wringhim! How delightful to think that a justiﬁed
person can do no wrong! Who would not envy the
liberty wherewith we are made free? Go to my'
husband, that poor unfortunate, blindfolded person, and
open his eyes to his degenerate and sinful state; for
well are you ﬁtted to the task.’
‘Yea, I will go in unto him, and confound him. I
will lay the strongholds of sin and Satan as ﬂat before
my face, as the dung that is spread out to fatten the
land.’
‘Master, there’s a gentleman at the fore-door wants a
private word 0’ ye.’ r
‘Tell him I’m engaged; I can’t see any gentleman
to-night. But I shall attend on him to-morrow as soon A,"
as he pleases.’ ‘
‘He’s coming straight in, sir.--Stop a wee bit, sir, my
master is engaged. He cannot see you at present, sir.’
‘Stand aside, thou Moabite ! my mission admits of no
delay. I come to save him from the jaws of destruc-
tion ! ’
‘An’ that be the case, sir, it mak’s a wide difference;
an’ as the danger may threaten us a’, I fancy I may as
weel let ye gang by as ﬁght wi’ ye, sin’ ye seem sae
intent on’t. The man says he’s comin’ to save ye,
an’ canna stop, sir. Here he is.’
The laird was going to break out into a volley of wrath


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 15
against Waters, his servant; but before he got a word
pronounced, the Rev. Mr Wringhim had stepped inside
the room, and Waters had retired, shutting the door
behind him.
No introduction could be more mal-a-propos: it is
impossible; for at that very moment the laird and
Arabella Logan were both sitting on one seat, and both
looking on one book, when the door opened. ‘ What is
it, sir? ’ said the laird ﬁercely.
‘A message of the greatest importance, sir,’ said the
divine, striding unceremoniously up to the chimney-
turning his back to the ﬁre, and his face to the culprits—-
‘I think you should know me, sir,’ continued he, looking
displeasedly at the laird, with his face half turned round.
‘I think I should,’ returned the laird. ‘You are a Mr
How’s-tey-ca’-him, of Glasgow, who did me the worst
turn ever I got done to me in my life. You gentry are
always ready to do a man such a turn. Pray, sir, did
you ever do a good job for anyone to counterbalance
that? for, if you have not, you ought to be—’
‘Hold, sir, I say! None of your profanity before me.
If I do evil to anyone on such occasions, it is because
he will have it so ; therefore, the evil is not of my doing.
I ask you, sir—before God and this witness—I ask you,
have you kept solemnly and inviolate the vows which I
laid upon you that day? Answer me P ’
‘Has the partner whom you bound me to, kept hers
inviolate? Answer me that, sir? None can better do
so than you, Mr How’s-tey-ca’-you.’
‘So, then, you confess your backslidings, and avow the
proﬂigacy of your life. And this person here is, I
suppose, the partner of your iniquity—she whose beauty
hath caused you to err! Stand up, both of you, till I
“H


16 The Private Memoirs and
rebuke you, and show you what you are in the eyes of
God and man.’
‘In the ﬁrst place, stand you still there, till I tell you
what you are in the eyes of God and man. You are, sir,
a presumptuous, self-conceited pedagogue, a stirrer up of
strife and commotion in church, in state, in families, and
communities. You are one, sir, whose righteousness
consists in splitting the doctrine of Calvin into thousands
of undistinguishable ﬁlms, and in setting up a system of
justifying grace against all breaches of all laws, moral or
divine. In short, sir, you are a mildew—a canker-worm
in the bosom of the Reformed Church, generating a dis-
ease of which she will never be purged, but by the
shedding of blood. Go thou in peace, and do these
abominations no more ; but humble thyself, lest a worse
reproof come upon thee.’
Wringhim heard all this without ﬂinching. He now
and then twisted his mouth in disdain, treasuring up,
meantime, his vengeance against the two aggressors;
for he felt that he had them on the hip, and resolved to
pour out his vengeance and indignation upon them.
Sorry am I, that the shackles of modern decorum
restrain me from penning that famous rebuke ;
fragments of which have been attributed to every divine
of old notoriety throughout Scotland. But I have it
by heart; and a glorious morsel it is to put into the
hands of certain incendiaries. The metaphors were so
strong, and so appalling, that Miss Logan could only
stand them a very short time; she was obliged to with-
draw in confusion. The laird stood his ground with
much ado, though his face was often crimsoned over
with the hues of shame and anger. Several times he
was on the point of turning the ofﬁcious sycophant to


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Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 17
the door; but good manners, and an inherent respect
that he entertained for the clergy, as the immediate
servants of the Supreme Being, restrained him.
Wringhim, perceiving these symptoms of resentment,
took them for marks of shame and contrition, and
pushed his reproaches further than ever divine ventured
to do in a similar case. When he had ﬁnished, to prevent
further discussion, he walked slowly and majestically out
of the apartment, making his robes to swing behind him
in a most magisterial manner ; he being, without doubt,
elated with his high conquest. He went to the upper
story, and related to his metaphysical associate his
wonderful success; how he had driven the dame from
the house in tears and deep confusion, and left the back-
Sliding laird in such a quandary of shame and repentance,
that he could neither articulate a word, nor lift up his
countenance. The dame thanked him most cordially,
lauding his friendly zeal and powerful eloquence; and
then the two again set keenly to the splitting of hairs,
and making distinctions in religion where none existed.
They being both children of adoption, and secured
from falling into snares, or any way under the power of
the wicked one, it was their custom, on each visit, to sit
up a night in the same apartment, for the sake of sweet
spiritual converse ; but that time, in the course of the
night, they differed so materially on a small point, some-
where between justiﬁcation and ﬁnal election, that the
minister, in the heat of his zeal, sprung from his seat,
paced the ﬂoor, and maintained his point with such
ardour, that Martha was alarmed, and thinking they
were going to ﬁght, and that the minister would be a
hard match for her mistress, she put on some clothes,
and twice left her bed and stood listening at the back
B
[I


18 The Private Memoirs and
of the door, ready to burst in should need require it.
Should anyone think this picture overstrained, I can
assure him that it is taken from nature and from
truth ; but I will not likewise aver, that the theologist
was neither crazed nor inebriated. If the listener’s words
were to be relied on, there was no love, no accommo-
dating principle manifested between the two, but a ﬁery
burning zeal, relating to points of such minor import-
ance, that a true Christian would blush to hear them
mentioned, and the inﬁdel and profane make a handle
of them to turn our religion to scorn.
Great was the dame’s exultation at the triumph of her
beloved pastor over her sinful neighbours in the lower
parts of the house ; and she boasted of it to Martha in
high-sounding terms. But it was of short duration; for, in
ﬁve weeks after that, Arabella Logan came to reside with
the laird as his housekeeper, sitting at his table, and
carrying the keys as mistress-substitute of the mansion.
The lady’s grief and indignation were now raised to a
higher pitch than ever; and she set every agent to
work, with whom she had any power, to effect a
separation between these two suspected ones. Remon-
strance was of no avail; George laughed at them who
tried such a course, and retained his housekeeper, while
the lady gave herself up to utter despair; for though
she would not consort with her husband herself, she
could not endure that any others should do so.
But, to countervail this grievous offence, our saintly
and afﬂicted dame, in due time, was safely delivered of a
ﬁne boy, whom the laird acknowledged as his son and
heir, and had him christened by his own name, and
nursed in his own premises. He gave the nurse per-
mission to take the boy to his mother’s presence if ever


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. . 19
she should desire to see him; but, strange as it may
appear, she never once desired to see him from the day
that he was born. The boy grew up, and was a health-
ful and happy child ; and in the course of another year,
the lady presented him with a brother. A brother 'he
certainly was, in the eye of the law, and it is more than
probable that he was his brother in reality. But the
laird thought otherwise; and, though he knew and ac-
knowledged that he was obliged to support and provide
for him, he refused to acknowledge him in other respects.
He neither would countenance the banquet, nor take
the baptismal vows on him in the child’s name ; of course
the poor boy had to live and remain an alien from the
visible Church for a year and a day; at which time,
Mr Wringhim out of pity and kindness, took the lady
herself as sponsor for the boy, and baptised him by
the name of Robert Wringhim,— that being the noted
divine’s own name.
George was brought up with his father, and educated
partly at the parish-school, and partly at home, by a
tutor hired for the purpose. He was a generous and
kind-hearted youth ; always ready to oblige, and hardly
ever dissatisﬁed with anybody. Robert was brought up
with Mr Wringhim, the laird paying a certain allowance
for him yearly ; and there the boy was early inured to all
the sternness and severity of his pastor’s arbitrary and
unyielding creed. He was taught to pray twice every
day, and seven times on Sabbath days ; but he was only to
pray for the elect, and, like David of old, doom all that
were aliens from God to destruction. He had never, in
that family into which he had been as it were adopted,
heard aught but evil spoken of his reputed father and
brother ; consequently he held them in utter abhorrence,


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 21
moderate man, he had still leaned to the side of the
kingly prerogative, and had escaped conﬁscation and
ﬁnes, without ever taking any active hand in suppressing
the Covenanters. But ,after experiencing a specimen of
their tenets and manner in his wife, from a secret
favourer of them and their doctrines, he grew alarmed at
the prevalence of such stern and factious principles, now
that there was no check nor restraint upon them; and from
that time he began to set himself against them; joining
with the Cavalier party of that day in all their pro-
ceedings.
It so happened, that, underithe inﬂuence of the Earls
of Seaﬁeld and Tullibardine, he was returned for a
Member of Parliament in the famous session that sat at
Edinburgh, when the Duke of Queensberry was com-
missioner, and in which party spirit ran to such an
extremity. The young laird went with his father to the
court, and remained in town all the time that the session
lasted; and as all interested people of both factions
ﬂocked to the town at that period, so the important M1
Wringhim was there among the rest, during the greater
part of the time, blowing the coal of revolutionary
principles with all his might, in every society to which
he could obtain admission. He was a great favourite
with some of the west country gentlemen of that faction,
by reason of his unbending impudence. No opposition
could for a moment cause him either to blush, or retract
one item that he had advanced. Therefore the Duke of
Argyle and his friends made such use of him as sports-
men often do of terriers, to start the game, and make a
great yelping noise to let them know whither the chace
is proceeding. They often did this out of sport, in order
to teaze their opponent; for of all pesterers that ever


22 The Private Memoirs and
fastened on man, he was the most insufferable: knowing
that his coat protected him from manual chastisement,
be spared no acrimony, and delighted in the chagrin and
anger of those with whom he contended. But he was
sometimes likewise of real use to the heads of the
Presbyterian faction, and therefore was admitted to their
tables, and of course conceived himself a very great man.
His ward accompanied him; and very shortly after
their arrival in Edinburgh, Robert, for the ﬁrst time,
met with the young laird, his brother, in a match at
tennis. The prowess and agility of the young squire
drew forth the loudest plaudits of approval from his
associates, and his own exertion alone carried the game
every time on the one side, and that so far as all along to
count three for their one. The hero’s name soon ran
round the circle, and when his brother Robert, who was
an onlooker, learned who it was that was gaining so
much applause, he came and stood close beside him all
the time that the game lasted, always now and then
putting in a cutting remark by way of mockery.
George could not help perceiving him, not only on
account of his impertinent remarks, but he, moreover,
stood so near him that he several times impeded him in
his rapid evolutions, and of course got himself shoved
aside in no very ceremonious way. Instead of making
him keep his distance, these rude shocks and pushes,
accompanied sometimes with hasty curses, only made
him cling the closer to this king of the game. He
seemed determined to maintain his right to his place as
an onlooker, as well as any of those engaged in the game,
and if they had tried him at an argument, he would have
carried his point: or perhaps he Wished to quarrel with
this spark of his jealousy and aversion, and draw the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 2 3
attention of the gay crowd to himself by these means;
‘for, like his guardian, he knew no other pleasure but
what consisted in opposition. George took him for some
impertinent student of divinity, rather set upon a joke
than anything else. He perceived a lad with black
clothes, and a methodistical face, whose countenance and
eye he disliked exceedingly, several times in his way, and
that was all the notice he took of him the ﬁrst time they
two met. But the next day, and every succeeding one,
the same devilish-looking youth attended him as con-
stantly as his shadow; was always in his way as with
intention to impede him, and ever and anon his deep
and malignant eye met those of his elder brother with a
glance so ﬁerce that it sometimes startled him.
The very next time that George was engaged at
tennis, he had not struck the ball above twice till the same
intrusive being was again in his way. The party played
for considerable stakes that day, namely, a dinner and
wine at the Black Bull tavern; and George, as the hero
and head of his party, was much interested in its honour;
Consequently, the sight of this moody and hellish-looking
student affected him in no very pleasant manner. ‘Pray
sir, be so good as keep without the range of the ball,’
said he. -
‘Is there any law or enactment that can compel me to
do so ?’ said the other biting his lip with scorn.
‘If there is not, they are here that shall compel you,’
returned George; ‘so, friend, I rede you to be on your
guard.’ '
As he said this, a flush of anger glowed in his hand-
some face, and ﬂashed from his sparkling blue eye; but
it was a stranger to both, and momently took its depar-
ture. The black-coated youth set up his cap before,


24 The Private Memoirs and
brought his heavy brows over his deep dark eyes, put his
hands in the pockets of his black plush breeches, and
stepped a little farther into the semi-circle, immediately
on his brother’s right hand, than he had ever ventured
to do before. There he set himself ﬁrm on his legs, and,
with a face as demure as death, seemed determined to
keep his ground. He pretended to be following the ball
with his eyes; but every moment they were glancing
aside at George. One of the competitors chanced to say
rashly, in the moment of exultation, ‘That’s a d—‘d
ﬁne blow, George! ’ On which the intruder took up the
word, as characteristic of the competitors, and repeated it
every stroke that was given, making such a ludicrous use
of it, that several of the onlookers were compelled to
laugh immoderately; but the players were terribly nettled
at it, as he really contrived, by dint of sliding in some
canonical terms, to render the competitors and their
game ridiculous.
But matters at length came to a crisis that put them
beyond sport. George, in ﬂying backward to gain the
point at which the ball was going to light, came in-
advertently so rudely in contact with this obstreperous
interloper, that he not only overthrew him, but also got
a grievous fall over his legs; and, as he arose, the other
made a spurn at him with his foot, which, if it had hit to
its aim, would undoubtedly have ﬁnished the course of
the young laird of Dalcastle and Balgrennan. George,
being irritated beyond measure, as may well be conceived,
especially at the deadly stroke aimed at him, struck the
assailant with his racket, rather slightly, but so that his
mouth and nose gushed out blood; and at the same time,
he said, turning to his cronies: ‘Does any of you know
who the infernal puppy is? ’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 25
‘Do you not know, sir,’ said one of the onlookers, a
stranger, ‘the gentleman is your own brother, sir—Mr
Robert Wringhim Colwan l ’
‘No, not Colwan, sir,’ said Robert, putting his hands
in his pockets, and setting himself still farther forward
than before,—‘ Not a Colwan, sir; henceforth I disclaim
the name.’
‘ No, certainly not,’ repeated George; ‘my mother’s son
you may be—but nota Colwan ./ There you are right.’
Then turning round to his informer, he said, ‘Mercy be
about us, Sirl is this the crazy1__mi11ister’s son from
Glasgow ? ’
This question was put in the irritation of the moment;
but it was too rude, and too far out of place, and no one
deigned any answer to it. He felt the reproof, and felt
it deeply; seeming anxious for some opportunity to
make an acknowledgment, or some reparation.
In the meantime, young Wringhimlwas an object to
all of the uttermost disgust. The blood ﬂowing from
his mouth and nose he took no pains to stem, neither
did he so much as wipe it away; so that it spread over all
his cheeks, and breast, even off at his toes. In that state
did he take up his station in the middle of the com-
petitors; and he did not now keep his place, but ran
about, impeding every one who attempted to make at
the ball. They loaded him with execrations, but it
availed nothing; he seemed courting persecution and
buﬁ'etings, keeping steadfastly to his old joke of damna-
tion, and marring the game so completely, that, in spite
of every effort on the part of the players, he forced them
to stop their game, and give it up. He was such a
rueful-looking object, covered with blood, that none of
them had the heart to kick him, although it appeared


26 The Private Memoirs and
the only thing he wanted; and as for George, he said
not another word to him, either in anger or reproof.
When the game was fairly given up, and the party
were washing their hands in the stone fount, some of
them besought Robert Wringhim to wash himself; but
he mocked at them, and said he was much better as
he was. George, at length, came forward abashedly
toward him, and said: ‘I have been greatly to blame,
Robert, and am very sorry for what I have done. But,
in the ﬁrst instance, I erred through ignorance, not
knowing you were my brother, which you certainly are;
and, in the second, through a momentary irritation for
which I am ashamed. I pray you therefore to pardon
me, and give me your hand.’
As he said this, he held out his hand towards his pol-
luted brother; but the froward predestinarian took not
his from his breeches’ pocket, but lifting his foot, he
gave his brother’s hand a kick. ‘I’ll give you what will
suit such a hand better than mine,’ said he, with a sneer.
And then, turning lightly about, he added, ‘Are there
to be no more of these d d ﬁne blows, gentlemen?
For shame to give up such a proﬁtable and edifying
game ! ’
‘This is too bad,’ said George. ‘But since it is thus,
I have the less to regret.’ And having made this general
remark, he took no more note of the uncouth aggressor.
But the persecution of the latter terminated not on the
playground; he ranked among them, bloody and disgust-
ing as he was, and, keeping close by his brother’s side, he
marched along with the party all the way to the Black
Bull. Before they got there, a great number of boys and
idle people had surrounded them, hooting and incom-
moding them exceedingly, so that they were glad to get


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 27
into the inn; and the unaccountable monster-actually
tried to get in along with them, to make one of the party
at dinner. But the innkeeper and his men, getting the
hint, by force prevented him from entering, although he
attempted it again and again, both by telling lies and
offering a bribe. Finding he could not prevail, he set
to exciting the mob at the door to acts of violence; in
which he had like to have succeeded. The landlord
had no other shift, at last, but to send privately for two
ofﬁcers, and have him carried to the guardhouse; and
the hilarity and joy of the party of young gentlemen,
for the evening, was quite spoiled, by the inauspicious
termination of their game.
The Rev. Robert Wringhim was now sent for to
release his beloved ward. The messenger found him at
table, with a number of the leaders of the Whig faction,
the Marquis of Annandale being in the chair; and the
prisoner’s note being produced, Wringhim read it aloud,
accompanying it with some explanatory remarks. The
circumstances of the case being thus magniﬁed and dis-
torted, it excited the utmost abhorrence, both of the
deed and the perpetrators, among the assembled faction.
They declaimed against the act as an unnatural attempt
on the character, and even the life, of an unfortunate
brother, who had been expelled from his father’s house.
And, as party spirit was the order of the day, an attempt
was made to lay the burden of it to that account. In
short, the young culprit got some of the best blood of the
land to enter as his securities, and was set at liberty.
But when Wringhim perceived the plight that he was
in, he took him, as he was, and presented him to his
honourable patrons. This raised the indignation against
the young laird and his associates a thousand fold, which


28 The Private Memoirs and

"-1
actually roused the party to temporary madness. They
were, perhaps, a little excited by the wine and spirits they
had swallowed ; else a casual quarrel between two young
men, at tennis, could not have driven them to such
extremes. But certain it is, that from one at ﬁrst arising
to address the party on the atrocity of the offence, both
in a moral and political point of view, on a sudden there
were six on their feet, at the same time, expatiating on
it ; and, in a very short time thereafter, every one in the
room was up, talking with the utmost vociferation, all on
the same subject, and all taking the same side in the
debate. I
In the midst of this confusion, some one or other issued
from the house, which was at the back of the Canongate,
calling out : ‘A plot, a plot ! Treason, treason ! Down
with the bloody incendiaries at the Black Bull l ’
The concourse of people that were assembled in
Edinburgh at that time was prodigious ; and as they were
all actuated by political motives, they wanted only a
ready-blown coal to set the mountain on ﬁre. The
evening being ﬁne, and the streets thronged, the cry ran
from mouth to mouth through the whole city. More
than that, the mob that had of late been gathered to the
door of the Black Bull, had, by degrees, dispersed ; but,
they being young men, and idle vagrants, they had only
spread themselves over the rest of the street to lounge in
search of farther amusement: consequently, a word was
sufﬁcient to send them back to their late rendezvous,
where they had previously witnessed something they did
not much approve of.
The master of the tavern was astonished at seeing the
mob again assembling; and that with such hurry and
noise. But his inmates being all of the highest respecta-


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 29
bility, be judged himself sure of protection, or, at least,
of indemnity. He had two large parties in his house at
the time ; the largest of which was of the Revolutionist
faction. The other consisted of our young tennis-players
and their associates, who were all of the Jacobite order ;
or, at all events, leaned to the Episcopal side. The
largest party were in a front room, and the attack of the
mob fell ﬁrst on their windows, though rather with fear
and caution. Jingle went one pane ; then a loud hurrah ;
and that again was followed by a number of voices,
endeavouring to restrain the indignation from venting
itself in destroying the windows, and to turn it on the
inmates. The Whigs, calling the landlord, inquired
what the assault meant: he cunningly answered that
he suspected it was some of the youths of the Cavalier,
or High Church party, exciting the mob against them.
The party consisted mostly of young gentlemen, by that
time in a key to engage in any row ; and, at all events,
to suffer nothing from the other party, against whom
their passions were mightily inﬂamed.
The landlord, therefore, had no sooner given them the
spirit-rousing intelligence, than every one, as by instinct,
swore his own natural oath, and grasped his own natural
weapon. A few of those of the highest rank were
armed with swords, which they boldly drew; those of
the subordinate orders immediately ﬂew to such weapons
as the room, kitchen, and scullery afforded; such as
tongs, pokers, spits, racks, and shovels; and breathing
vengeance on the prelatic party, the children of Anti-
christ, and the heirs of d—n—t—nl the barterers of
the liberties of their country, and betrayers of the most
sacred trust,—thus elevated,.and thus armed, in the cause
of right, justice, and liberty, our heroes rushed to the


30 The Private Memoirs and
street, and attacked the mob with such violence, that
they broke the mass in a moment, and dispersed their
thousands like chaff before the wind. The other party
of young Jacobites, who sat in a room farther from the
front, and were those against whom the fury of the mob
was meant to have been directed, knew nothing of this
second uproar, till the noise of the sally made by the
Whigs assailed their ears ; being then informed that the
mob had attacked the house on account of the treatment
they themselves had given to a young gentleman of the
adverse faction, and that another jovial party had issued
from the house in their defence, and was now engaged in
an unequal combat, the sparks likewise flew to the ﬁeld
to back their defenders with all their prowess, without
troubling their heads about who they were.
A mob is like a spring tide in an eastern storm, that
retires only to return with more overwhelming fury.
The crowd was taken by surprise, when such a strong
and well-armed party issued from the house with so
great fury, laying all prostrate that came in their way.
Those who were next to the door, and were, of course,
the ﬁrst whom the imminent danger assailed, rushed
backward among the crowd with their whole force. The
Black Bull standing in a small square half way between
the High Street and the Cowgate, and the entrance to
it being by two closes, into these the pressure outward
was simultaneous, and thousands were moved to an in-
voluntary ﬂight, they knew not why.
But the High Street of Edinburgh, which they soon
reached, is a dangerous place in which to make an open
attack upon a mob. And it appears that the entrances to
the tavern had been somewhere near to the Cross, on the
south side of the street; for the crowd ﬂed with great ex~


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 3r
pedition, both to the east and west, and the conquerors,
separating themselves as chance directed, pursued im-
petuously, wounding and maiming as they ﬂew. But it
so chanced, that before either of the wings had followed
the ﬂying squadrons of their enemies for the space of a
hundred yards each way, the devil an enemy they had to
pursue ! the multitude had vanished like so many
thousands of phantoms! What could our heroes do?
Why, they faced about to return toward their citadel,
the Black Bull. But that feat was not so easily, nor so
readily accomplished, as they divined. The unnumbered
alleys on each side of the street had swallowed up the
multitude in a few seconds; but from these they were busy
reconnoitring; and, perceiving the deﬁciency in the number
of their assailants, the rush from both sides of the street
was as rapid, and as wonderful, as the disappearance of
the crowd had been a few minutes before. Each close
vomited out its levies, and these better armed with
missiles than when they sought it for a temporary retreat.
Woe then to our two columns of victorious Whigs l The
mob actually closed around them as they would have
swallowed them up; and, in the meanwhile, shower after
shower of the most abominable weapons of offence were
rained in upon them. If the gentlemen were irritated
before, this inﬂamed them still farther; but their danger was
now so apparent, they could not shut their eyes on it, there-
fore, both parties, as if actuated by the same spirit, made
a desperate effort to join, and the greater part effected it;
but some were knocked down, and others were separated
from their friends, and blithe to become silent members
of the mob.
The battle now raged immediately in front of the closes
leading to the Black Bull; the small body of Whig gentle-


32 The Private Memoirs and
men was hardly bested, and it is likely would have been
overcome and trampled down every man, had they not
been then and there joined by the young Cavaliers; who,
fresh to arms, broke from the wynd, opened the head of
the passage, laid about them manfully, and thus kept up
the spirits of the exasperated Whigs, who were the men
in fact that wrought the most deray among the populace.
The town-guard was now on the alert; and two com-
panies of the Cameronian regiment, with the Hon.
Captain Douglas, rushed down from the Castle to the
scene of action; but, for all the noise and hubbub that
these caused in the street, the combat had become so close
and inveterate, that numbers of both sides were taken
prisoners ﬁghting hand to hand, and could scarcely be
separated when the guardsmen and soldiers had them by
the necks.
Great was the alarm and confusion that night in
Edinburgh; for everyone concluded that it was a party
scufﬂe, and, the two parties being so equal in power, the
most serious consequences were anticipated. The agita- "‘
tion was so prevailing, that every party in the town,
great and small, was broken up; and the lord-com-
missioner thought proper to go to the council-chamber
himself, even at that late hour, accompanied by the
sheriffs of Edinburgh and Linlithgow, with sundry
noblemen besides, in order to learn something of the origin
of the aﬁ'ray.
For a long time the court was completely puzzled.
Every gentleman brought in exclaimed against the treat-
ment he had received, in most bitter terms, blaming
a mob set on him and his friends by the adverse party;
and matters looked extremely ill, until at length they
began to perceive that they were examining gentlemen


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. ' 33
of both parties, and that they had been doing so from
the beginning, almost alternately, so equally had the
prisoners been taken from both parties. Finally, it
turned out, that a few gentlemen, two-thirds of whom
were strenuous Whigs themselves, had joined in mauling
the whole Whig population of Edinburgh. The investi-
gation disclosed nothing the effect of which was not
ludicrous; and'the Duke of Queensberry, whose aim was
at that time to conciliate the two factions, tried all that
he could to turn the whole fracas into a joke—an un-
lucky frolic, where no ill was meant on either side, and
which yet had been productive of a great deal.
The greater part of the people went home satisﬁed;
but not so the Rev. Robert Wringhim. He did all that
he could to inﬂame both judges and populace against
the young Cavaliers, especially against the young Laird
of Dalcastle, whom he represented as an incendiary, set
on by an unnatural parent to slander his mother, and
make away with a hapless and only brother; and, in truth,
that declaimer against all human merit had that sort of
powerful, homely, and bitter eloquence, which seldom
missed affecting his hearers; the consequence at that
time was, that he made the unfortunate affair between the
two brothers appear in extremely bad colours, and the
populace retired to their homes impressed with no very
favourable opinion of either the Laird of Dalcastle or his
son George, neither of whom were there present to speak
for themselves. '
As for Wringhim himself, he went home to his lodgings,
ﬁlled with gall and with spite against the young laird,
whom he was made to believe the aggressor, and that
intentionally. But most of all was he ﬁlled with indigna-
tion against the father, whom he held in abhorrence at all
C


34 The Private Memoirs and
times, and blamed solely for this unmannerly attack made
on his favourite ward, namesake, and adopted son; and
for the public imputation of a crime to his own reverence,
in calling the lad his son, and thus charging him with a
sin against which he was well known to have levelled all
the arrows of church censure with unsparing might.
But, ﬁlled as his heart was with some portion of these bad
feelings, to which all ﬂesh is subject, he kept, nevertheless,
the fear of the Lord always before his eyes so far as never
to omit any of the external duties of religion, and farther
than that, man hath no power to pry. He lodged with
the family of a Mr Millar, whose lady was originally from
Glasgow, and had been a hearer, and, of course, a great
admirer of Mr Wringhim. In that family he made
public worship every evening; and that night, in his
petitions at a throne of grace, he prayed for so many vials
of wrath to be poured on the head of some particular
sinner, that the hearers trembled, and stopped their ears.
But that he might not proceed with so violent a measure,
amounting to excommunication, without due scripture
warrant, he began the exercise of the evening by singing
the following verses, which it is a pity should ever have
been admitted into a Christian psalmody, being so adverse
to all its mild and benevolent principles :—
Set thou the wicked over him,
And upan hit right hand
Give than his grealest memy
E'um Satan, law to stand.
And when by thee he shall be judged,
Let him remembered be ;
And let his prayer be turned to sin,
When he shall call on thee.
Few be his days ; and in his room
His charge another take ;


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 35
His children let be fatherless;
His wife a widow make :
Let God his father’s wickedness
Still to remembrance call;
And never let his mother's sin
Be blotted out at all.
As he in cursing pleasure took,
So let it to him fall;
As he delighted not to bless,
So bless him not at all.
As cursing he like clothes puts on,
Into his bowels so,
Like water, and into his bones
Like oil down let it go.
Young Wringhim only knew the full purport of this
spiritual song ; and went to his bed better satisﬁed than
ever, that his father and brother were castaways, repro-
bates, aliens from the Church and the true faith, and
cursed in time and eternity.
The next day George and his companions met as
usual—all who were not seriously wounded of them.
But as they strolled about the city, the rancorous eye
and the ﬁnger of scorn were pointed against them.
None of them was at ﬁrst aware of the reason; but it
threw a damp over their spirits and enjoyments, which
they could not master. They went to take a forenoon
game at their old play of tennis, not on a match, but by
way of improving ithemselves; but they had not well
taken their places till young \Vringhim appeared in his
old station, at his brother’s right hand, with looks more
demure and determined than ever. His lips were
primmed so close that his mouth was hardly discernible,
and his dark deep eye ﬂashed gleams of holy indignation
on the godless set, but particularly on his brother. His
presence acted as a mildew on all social intercourse or


36 The Private Memoirs and
enjoyment; the game was marred, and ended ere it was
well begun. There Were whisperings apart—the party
separated; and, in order to shake off the blighting in-
ﬂuence of this dogged persecutor, they entered sundry
houses of their acquaintances, with an understanding
that they were to meet on the Links for a game at
cricket.
They did so; and, stripping off part of their clothes,
they began that violent and spirited game. They had
not played ﬁve minutes, till Wringhim was stalking in
the midst of them, and totally impeding the play. A
cry arose from all corners of ‘Oh, this will never do.
Kick him out of the playground! Knock down the
scoundrel; or bind him, and let him lie in peace.’
‘By no means,’ cried George: ‘it is evident he wants
nothing else. Pray do not humour him so much as to
touch him with either foot or ﬁnger.’ Then turning to
a friend, he said in a whisper, ‘Speak to him, Gordon;
he surely will not refuse to let us have the ground to
ourselves, if you request it of him.’
Gordon went up to him, and requested of him civilly,
but ardently, ‘to retire to a certain distance, else none of
them could or would be answerable, however sore he
might be hurt.’
He turned disdainfully on his heel, uttered a kind of
pulpit hem! and then added, ‘I will take my chance of
that; hurt me, any of you, at your peril.’ .
The young gentlemen smiled, through spite‘ and dis-
dain of the dogged animal. Gordon followed him up,
and tried to remonstrate with him ; but he let him know
that it was his pleasure to be there at that time; and,
unless he could demonstrate to him what superior right
he and his party had to that ground, in preference to


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 37
him, and to the exclusion of all others, he was deter-
mined to assert his right, and the rights of his fellow-
citizens, by keeping possession of whatsoever part of that
common ﬁeld he chose.
‘You are no gentleman, Sir,’ said Gordon.
‘Are you one, sir? ’ said the other.
‘Yes, sir, I will let you know that I am, by G— l ’
‘Then, thanks be to Him whose name you have pro-
faned, I am none. If one of the party be a gentleman
I do hope in God I am not! ’
It was now apparent to them all that he was courting
obloquy and manual chastisement from their hands, if by
any means he could provoke them to the deed; and,
apprehensive that he had some sinister and deep-laid
design in hunting after such a singular favour, they
wisely restrained one another from inﬂicting the punish-
ment that each of them yearned to bestow, personally,
and which he so well deserved.
But the unpopularity of the younger George Colwan
could no longer be concealed from his associates. It was
manifested wherever the populace were assembled: and
his young and intimate friend, Adam Gordon, was
obliged to warn him of the circumstance, that he might
not be surprised at the gentlemen of their acquaintance
withdrawing themselves from his society, as they could
not be seen with him without being insulted. George
thanked him; and it was agreed between them, that the
former should keep himself retired during the daytime
while he remained in Edinburgh, and that at night they
Should always meet together, along with such of their
companions as were disengaged.
George found it every day more and more necessary to
adhere to this system of seclusion; for it was not alone the


38 The Private Memoirs and
hisses of the boys and populace that pursued him—a ﬁend
of more malignant aspect was ever at his elbow in the
form of his brother. To whatever place of amusement
he betook himself, and however well he concealed his
intentions of going there from all ﬂesh living, there was
his brother Wringhim also, and always within a few
yards of him, generally about the same distance, and
ever and anon darting looks at him that chilled his very
soul. They were looks that cannot be described; but
they were felt piercing to the bosom’s deepest core.
They aﬁ'ected even the onlookers in a very particular
manner, for all whose eyes caught a glimpse of these
hideous glances followed them to the object toward
which they were darted; the gentlemanly and mild
demeanour of that object generally calmed their startled
apprehensions; for no one ever yet noted the glances of
the young man’s eye in the black coat, at the face of his
brother, who did not at ﬁrst manifest strong symptomspf
alarm.
George became utterly confounded; not only at the
import of this persecution, but how in the world it came
to pass that this unaccountable being knew all his
motions, and every intention of his heart, as it were
intuitively. On consulting his own previous feelings
and resolutions, he found that the circumstances of his
going to such and such a place were often the most
casual incidents in nature—the caprice of a moment had
carried him there, and yet he had never sat or stood
many minutes till there was the self-same being, always
'in the same position with regard to himself, as regularly
as the shadow is cast from the substance, or the ray of
light from the opposing denser medium.
For instance, he remembered one day of setting out


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 39
with the intention of going to attend divine worship in
the High Church, and when within a short space of its
door, he was overtaken by young Kilpatrick of Closeburn,
, who was bound to the Grey Friars to see his sweetheart
as he said: ‘And if you will go with me, Colwan,’ said
he, ‘ I will let you see her too, and then you will be just
as far forward as-I am.’
George assented at once,-and went; and after taking
his seat, he leaned his head forward on the pew to repeat
over to himself a short ejaculatory prayer, as had always
been his custom on entering the house of God. When
he had done, he lifted his eyes naturally toward that
point on his right hand where the ﬁerce apparition of
his brother had been wont to meet his view: there he
was, in the same habit, form, demeanour, and precise
point of distance, as usual! George laid down his
head, and his mind was so astounded, that he had nearly
fallen into a. swoon. He tried shortly after to muster up
courage to look at the speaker, at the congregation, and
at Captain Kilpatrick’s sweetheart in particular; but the
ﬁendish glances of the Eyoung man in the black clothes
were too appaling to be withstood—his eye caught them
whether he was looking that way or not; at length his
courage was fairly mastered, and he was obliged to look
down during the remainder of the service.
By night or by day it was the same. In the gallery of
the Parliament House, in the boxes of the play-house, in
the church, in the assembly, in the streets, suburbs, and
the ﬁelds; and every day, and every hour, from the ﬁrst
rencounter of the two, the attendance became more and
more constant, more inexplicable, and altogether more
alarming and insufferable, until at last George was fairly
driven from society, and forced to spend his days in his


40 The Private Memoirs and
own and his father’s lodgings with closed doors. Even
there, he was constantly harassed with the idea, that the
next time he lifted his eyes, he would to a certainty see
that face, the most repulsive to all his feelings of aught
the earth contained. The attendance of that brother was
now become like the attendance of a demon on some
devoted being that had sold himself to destruction; his
approaches as undiscerned, and his looks as fraught with
hideous malignity. It was seldom that he saw him either
following him in the streets, or entering any house or
church after him; he only appeared in his place, George
wist not how, or whence; and, having sped so ill in his
ﬁrst friendly approaches, he had never spoken to his
equivocal attendant a second time.
It came at length into George’s head, as he was
pondering by himself on the circumstances of this extra-
ordinary attendance, that perhaps his brother had
relented, and, though of so sullen and 'unaccommodating
a temper that he would not acknowledge it, or beg a
reconciliation, it might be for that very purpose that he
followed his steps night and day in that extraordinary
manner. ‘I cannot for my life see for what other pur-
pose it can be,’ thought he. ‘ He never offers to attempt
my life; not dares he, if he had the inclination; therefore,
although his manner is peculiarly repulsive to me, I shall
not have my mind burdened with the reﬂection that my
own mother’s son yearned for a reconciliation with me,
and was repulsed by my haughty and insolent behaviour.
The next time he comes to my hand, I am resolved that
I will accost him as one brother ought to address another,
whatever it may cost me; and, if I am still ﬂouted with
disdain, then shall the blame rest with him.’
After this generous resolution, it was a good while


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 41
before his gratuitous attendant appeared at his side
again; and George began to think that his visits were
discontinued. The hope was a relief that Could not be
calculated ; but still George had a feeling that it was. too
supreme to last. His enemy had been too pertinacious
to abandon his design, whatever it was. He, however,
began to indulge in a little more liberty, and for several
days he enjoyed it with impunity.
George was, from infancy, of a stirring active dis-
position, and could not endure conﬁnement ; and having
been of late much restrained in his youthful exercises
by this singular persecutor, he grew uneasy under such
restraint, and, one morning, chancing to awaken very
early, he arose to make an excursion to the top of
Arthur’s Seat, to breathe the breeze of the dawning,
and see the sun arise out of the eastern ocean. The
morning was calm and serene; as he walked down the
south back of the Canongate, toward the Palace, the
haze was so close around him that he could not see the
houses on the opposite side of the way. As he passed
the lord-commissioner’s house, the guards were in
attendance, who cautioned him not to go by the Palace,
as all the gates would be shut and guarded for an hour
to come, on which he went by the back of St Anthony’s
gardens, and found his way into that little romantic
glade adjoining to the Saint’s chapel and well. He was
still involved in a blue haze, like a dense smoke, but yet
_ in the midst of it the respiration was the most refreshing
and delicious. The grass and the ﬂowers were laden
with dew ; and, on taking off his hat to wipe his forehead,
he perceived that the black glossy fur of which his
chaperon was wrought, was all covered with a tissue of
the most delicate silver—a fairy web, composed of little


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 43
mingling with that cloud, made the dell a pit of darkness.
On that shadowy cloud was the lovely rainbow formed,
spreading itself on a horizontal plain, and having a slight
and brilliant shade of all the colours of the heavenly bow,
but all of them paler and less deﬁned. But this terrestrial
phenomenon of the early morn cannot be better de-
lineated than by the name given of it by the shepherd
boys, ‘ The little wee ghost of the rainbow.’
Such was the description of the morning, and the wild
shades of the hill, that George gave to his father and Mr
Adam Gordon that same day on which he had witnessed
them; and it is necessary that the reader should compre-
hend something of their nature to understand what
follows.
He seated himself on the pinnacle of the rocky pre-
cipice, a little within the top of the hill to the westward,
and, with a light and buoyant heart, viewed the beauties
of the morning, and inhaled its salubrious breeze.
‘ Here,’ thought he, ‘I can converse with nature without
disturbance, and without being intruded on by any
appalling or obnoxious visitor.’ The idea of his brother's
dark and malevolent looks coming at that moment
across his mind, he turned his eyes instinctively to the
right, to the point where that unwelcome guest was
wont to make his appearance. Gracious Heaven!
What an apparition was there presented to his view!
He saw, delineated in the cloud, the shoulders, arms,
and features of a human being of the most dreadful
aspect. The face was the face of his brother, but
dilated to twenty times the natural size. Its dark eyes
gleamed on him through the mist, while every furrow of
its hideous brow frowned deep as the ravines on the
brow of the hill. George started, and his hair stood up


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 45
very ﬁrst bolt that he made in his ﬂight he came in
contact with a real body of ﬂesh and blood, and that
with such violence that both went down among some
scragged rocks, and George rolled over the other. The
being called out ‘ Murder ; ’ and, rising, ﬂed precipitately.
George then perceived that it was his brother; and,
being confounded between the shadow and the substance,
he knew not what he was doing or what he had done ;
and there being only one natural way of retreat from
the brink of the rock, he likewise arose and pursued the
affrighted culprit with all his speed towards the top of
the hill. Wringhim was braying out, ‘Murderl
murder l’ at which George being disgusted, and his
spirits all in a ferment from some hurried idea of
intended harm, the moment he came up with the craven
he seized him rudely by the shoulder, and clapped his
hand on his mouth. ‘Murder, you beast!’ said he;
‘ what do you mean by roaring out murder in that way?
Who the devil is murdering you, or offering to murder
ou ? ’
y Wringhim forced his mouth from under his brother’s
hand, and roared with redoubled energy, ‘Eh! Egh!
murder! murder 1 ’ etc. George had felt resolute to put
down this shocking alarm, lest someone might hear it
and ﬂy to the spot, or draw inferences widely different from
the truth ; and perceiving the terror of this elect youth
to be so great that expostulation was vain, he seized him
by the mouth and nose with his left hand so strenuously
that he sunk his ﬁngers into his cheeks. But the
poltroon still attempting to bray out, George gave him
such a stunning blow with his ﬁst on the left temple that
he crumbled, as it were to the ground, but more from the
effects of terror than those of the blow. His nose, how-


_46 The Private Memoirs and
ever, again gushed out blood, a system of defence which
seemed as natural to him as that resorted to by the race
of stinkards. He then raised himself on his knees and
hams, and raising up his ghastly face, while the blood
streamed over both ears, he besought his life of his
brother in the most abject whining manner, gaping and
blubbering most piteously.
‘Tell me then, sir,’ said George, resolved to make the
, most of the wretch’s terror—‘ tell me for what purpose it
is that you thus haunt my steps. Tell me plainly, and
instantly, else I will throw you from the verge of that
precipice.’
‘Oh, I will never do it again! I will never do it
again! Spare my life, dear, good brother! Spare my
life! Sure I never did you any hurt?’
‘Swear to me, then, by the God that made you, that
you will never henceforth follow after me, to torment
me with your hellish threatening looks; swear that you
will never again come into my presence without being
invited. Will you take an oath to this effect?’
‘0 yes! Iwill, Iwill!’
‘ But this is not all: you must tell me for what purpose
you sought me out here this morning ? ’
‘Oh, brother ! for nothing but your good. I had
nothing at heart but your unspeakable proﬁt, and great
and endless good.’
‘So then, you indeed knew that I was here?’
‘I was told so by a friend, but I did not believe him ;
a—a—at least I did not know it was true till I saw you.’
‘Tell me this one thing, then, Robert, and all shall be
forgotten and forgiven—Who was that friend?’
‘ You do not know him.’
‘How then does he know me P’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 47
‘I cannot tell.’
‘ Was he here present with you to-day ?’
‘Yes; he was not far distant. He came to this hill
with me.’
‘ Where, then, is he now?’
‘ I cannot tell.’
‘Then, wretch, confess that the devil was that friend
who told you I was here, and who came here with you ?
None else could possibly know of my being here.’
‘Ah! how little you know of him! Would you
argue that there is neither man nor spirit endowed with
so much foresight as to deduce natural conclusions from
previous actions and incidents but the devil? Alas,
brother! But why should I wonder at such abandoned
notions, and principles? It was fore-ordained that you
should cherish them, and that they should be the ruin of
your soul and body, before the world was framed. Be
assured of this, however, that I had no aim in seeking
you butyour good ./ ‘
‘Well, Robert, I will believe it. I am disposed to be
hasty and passionate: it is a fault in my nature; but I
never meant, or wished you evil ; and God is my witness
that I would as soon stretch out my hand to my own
life, or to my father’s, as to yours.’—At these words,
Wringhim uttered a hollow exulting laugh, put his hands
in his pockets, and withdrew a space to his accustomed
distance. George continued: ‘And now once for all, I
request that we may exchange forgiveness, and that we
may part and remain friends.’
‘Would such a thing be expedient, think you ? Or
consistent with the glory of God ? I doubt it.’
‘I can think of nothing that would be more so. Is it


48 The Private Memoirs and
not consistent with every precept of the Gospel? Come,
brother, say that our reconciliation is complete.’
‘Oh yes, certainly! I tell you brother, according to
the ﬂesh: it is just as complete as the lark’s is with the
adder ; no more so, nor ever can. Reconciled, forsooth !
To what would I be reconciled?’
. As he said this, he strode indignantly away. From
the moment that he heard his life was safe, he assumed
his former insolence and revengeful looks—and never
were they more dreadful than on parting with his
brother that morning on the top of the hill. ‘Well, go
thy ways,’ said George ; ‘some would despise, but I pity
thee. If thou art not a limb of Satan, I never saw
one.’
The sun had now dispelled the vapours ; and the
morning being lovely beyond description, George sat
himself down on the top of the hill, and pondered deeply
on the unaccountable incident that had befallen to him
that morning. He could in nowise comprehend it ; but,
taking it with other previous circumstances, he could not
get quit of a conviction that he was haunted by some evil
genius in the shape of his brother, as well as by that dark
and mysterious wretch himself. In no cther way could
he account for the apparition he saw that morning on the
face of the rock, nor for several sudden appearances of the
same being, in places where there was no possibility of
any foreknowledge that he himself was to be there, and
as little that the same being, if he were ﬂesh and blood
like other men, could always start up in the same position
with regard to him. He determined, therefore, on reach-
ing home, to relate all that had happened, from be-
ginning to end, to his father, asking his counsel and his
assistance, although he knew full well that his father was


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 49
not the ﬁttest man in the world to solve such a problem.
He was now involved in party politics, over head and
ears; and, moreover, he could never hear the names of
either of the Wringhims mentioned without getting into
a quandary of disgust and anger ; and all that he would
deign to say of them was, to call them by all the
opprobrious names he could invent.
It turned out as the young man from the ﬁrst sug-
gested: old Dalcastle would listen to nothing concerning
them with any patience. George complained that his
brother harassed him with his presence at all times and
in all places. Old Dal asked why he did not kick the
dog out of his presence, whenever he felt him disagree-
able? George said, he seemed to have some demon for
a familiar. Dal answered that, he did not wonder a bit
at that, for the young spark was the third in a direct line
who had all been children of adultery; and it was well
known that all such were born half deils themselves, and
nothing was more likely than that they should hold
intercourse with their fellows. In the same style did
he sympathise with all his son’s late sufferings and
perplexities.
In Mr Adam Gordon, however, George found a friend
who entered into all his feelings, and had seen and knew
everything about the matter. He tried to convince him,
that at all events there could be nothing supernatural in
the circumstances; and that the vision he had seen on
the rock, among the thick mist, was the shadow of his
brother approaching behind him. George could not
swallow this, for he had seen his own shadow on the
cloud, and, instead of approaching to aught like his own
ﬁgure, he perceived nothing but a halo of glory round a
point of the cloud, that was whiter and purer than‘the
D


50 The Private Memoirs and
rest. Gordon said, if he would go with him to a
mountain of his father’s, which he named, in Aberdeen-
shire, he would show him a giant spirit of the same
dimensions, any morning at the rising of the sun,
provided he shone on that spot. This statement
excited George’s curiosity exceedingly; and, being
disgusted with some things about Edinburgh, and glad to
get out of the way, he consented to go with Gordon to
the Highlands for a space. The day was accordingly set
for their departure, the old laird’s assent obtained:
and the two young sparks parted in a state of great
impatience for their excursion.
One of them found out another engagement, however,
the instant after this last was determined on. Young
Wringhim went off the hill that morning, and home to
his upright guardian again, without washing the blood
from his face and neck ; and there he told a most woful
story indeed : how he had gone out to take a morning’s
walk on the hill, where he had encountered with his
reprobate brother among the mist, who had knocked him
down and very near murdered him; threatening dread-
fully, and with horrid oaths, to throw him from the top
of the cliff.
The wrath of the great divine was kindled beyond
measure. He cursed the aggressor in the name of the
Most High ;. and bound himself, by an oath, to cause
that wicked one’s transgressions to return upon his own
head sevenfold. But before he engaged farther in the
business of vengeance, he kneeled with his adopted son,
and committed the wholelcause unto the Lord, whom he
addressed as one coming breathing burning coals of
juniper, and casting his lightnings before him, to destroy
and root out all who had moved hand or tongue against


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 51
the children of the promise. Thus did he arise conﬁrmed,
and go forth to certain conquest.
We cannot enter into the detail of the events that now
occurred, without forestalling a part of the narrative of
one who knew all the circumstances—was deeply inter-
ested in them, and whose relation is of higher value than
anything that can be retailed out of the stores of tradi-
tion and old registers ; but, his narrative being different
from these, it was judged expedient to give the account
as thus publicly handed down to us. Sufﬁce it, that,
before evening, George was apprehended and lodged in
jail, on a criminal charge of an assault and battery, to the
shedding of blood, with the intent of committing fratri-
cide. Then was the old laird in great consternation, and
blamed himself for treating the thing so lightly, which
seemed to have been gone about, from the beginning, so
systematically and with an intent which the villains were
now going to realise, namely, to get the young laird dis-
posed of, and then his brother, in spite of the old gentle-
man’s teeth, would be laird himself. ’
Old Dal now set his whole interest to work among the
noblemen and lawyers of his party. His son’s case
looked exceedingly ill, owing to the former assault before
witnesses, and the unbecoming expressions made use
of by him on that occasion, as well as from the present
assault, which George did not deny, and for which no
moving cause or motive could be made to appear.
On his ﬁrst declaration before the sheriff, matters
looked no better; but then the sheriff was a Whig. It
is well known how differently the people of the present
day, in Scotland, view the cases of their own party-men,
and those of opposite political principles But this day is
nothing to that in such matters, although, God knows,


52 The Private Memoirs and

they are still sometimes barefaced enough. It appeared,
from all the witnesses in the ﬁrst case, that the com-
plainant was the ﬁrst aggressor—that he refused to stand
out of the way, though apprised of his danger ; and when
his brother came against him inadvertently, he had aimed
a blow at him with his foot, which, if it had taken effect,
would have killed him. But as to the story of the
apparition in fair daylight—the ﬂying from the face of it
—the running foul of his brother—pursuing him, and
knocking him down, why the judge smiled at the relation;
and saying, ‘It was a very extraordinary story,’ he
remanded George to prison, leaving the matter to the
High Court of Justiciary.
When the case came before that court, matters took a
different turn. The constant and sullen attendance of
the one brother upon the other excited suspicions; and
these were in some manner conﬁrmed, when the guards
at Queensberry-house deponed that the prisoner went
by them on his way to the hill that morning, about
twenty minutes before the complainant, and when the
latter passed, he asked if such a young man had passed
before him, describing the prisoner’s appearance to them ;
and that, on being answered in the afﬁrmative, he
mended his pace and fell a-running.
The Lord Justice, on hearing this, asked the prisoner
if he had any suspicions that his brother had a design on
his life.- '
He answered, that all along, from the time of their
ﬁrst unfortunate meeting, his brother had dogged his
steps so constantly, and so unaccountably, that he was
convinced it was with some intent out of the ordinary
course of events ; and that if, as his lordship supposed, it
was indeed his shadow that he had seen approaching him


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 53
through the mist, then, from the cowering and cautious
manner that it advanced, there was too little doubt that
his brother’s design had been to push him headlong from
the cliff that morning.
A conversation then took place between the Judge
and the Lord Advocate ; and, in the meantime, a bustle
was seen in the hall; on which the doors were ordered
to be guarded,—and, behold, the precious Mr R. Wringhim
was taken into custody, trying to make his escape out of
court. Finally it turned out, that George was honourably
acquitted, and young Wringhim bound over to keep the
peace with heavy penalties and securities. '
That was a day of high exultation to George and his
youthful associates, all of whom abhorred Wringhim;
and the evening being spent in great glee, it was agreed
between Mr Adam Gordon and George that their visit
to the Highlands, though thus long delayed, was not to be
abandoned ; and though they had, through the machina-
tions of an incendiary, lost the season of delight, they
would still ﬁnd plenty of sport in deer-shooting. Ac-
cordingly, the day was set a second time for their
departure ; and, on the day preceding that, all the party
were invited by George to dine with him once more at
the Sign of the Black Bull of Norway. Everyone
promised to attend, anticipating nothing but festivity and
joy. Alas, what short-sighted improvident creatures we
are, all of us ; and how often does the evening cup of joy
lead to sorrow in the morning i
The day arrived—the party of young noblemen and
gentlemen met, and were as happy and jovial as men
could be. George was never seen so brilliant, or so full
of spirits; and exulting to see so many gallant young
chiefs and gentlemen about him, who all gloried in the


54 The Private Memoirs and
same principles of loyalty, (perhaps this word should have
been written disloyalty» he made speeches, gave toasts,
and sung songs, all leaning slily to the same side, until a
very late hour. By that time he had pushed the bottle
so long and so freely, that its fumes had taken possession
of every brain to such a degree, that they held Dame
Reason rather at the staff’s end, overbearing all her
counsels and expostulations; and it was imprudently
proposed by a wild inebriated spark, and carried by a
majority of voices, that the whole party should adjourn
to a bagnio for the remainder of the night.
They did so; and it appears from what follows, that
the house to which they retired, must have been some-
where on the opposite side of the street to the Black
Bull Inn, a little further to the eastward. They had
not been an hour in that house, till some altercation
chanced to arise between George Colwan and a Mr
Drummond, the younger son of a nobleman of distinction.
It was perfectly casual, and no one thenceforward, to
this day, could ever tell what it was about, if it was not
about the misunderstanding of some word, or term, that
the one had uttered. However it was, some high words
passed between them; these were followed by threats;
and in less than two minutes from the commencement
of the quarrel, Drummond left the house in apparent
displeasure, hinting to the other that they two should
settle that in a more convenient place.
The company looked at one another, for all was over
before any of them knew such a thing was begun.
‘What the devil is the matter? ’ cried one. ‘What ails
Drummond ?’ cried another. ‘Who has he quarrelled
with ? ’ asked a third.
‘Don’t know.’——‘ Can’t tell, on my life.’—‘ He has


III
y 3,0012!
ﬁzz é’penz'n
Q


Confessions of .a Justiﬁed Sinner. 55
quarrelled with his wine, I suppose, and is going to
send it a challenge.’
Such where the questions, and such the answers that
passed in the jovial party, and the matter was no more
thought of.
But in the course of a very short space, about the
length of which the ideas of the company were the next
day at great variance, a sharp rap came to the door: it
was opened by a female ; but there being a chain inside,
she only saw one side of the person at the door. He
appeared to be a young gentleman, in appearance like
him who had lately left the house, and asked, in a low
whispering voice, ‘If young Dalcastle was still in the
house?’ The woman did not know.—‘ If he is,’ added
he, ‘pray tell him to speak with me for a few minutes.’
The woman delivered the message before all the party,
among whom there were then sundry courteous ladies
of notable distinction, and George, on receiving it,
instantly rose from the side of one of them, and said, in
the hearing of them all, ‘I will bet a hundred merks
that iS Drummond.’-‘Don’t go to quarrel with him,
George,’ said one.—‘ Bring him in with you,’ said
another. George stepped out ; the door was again
bolted, the chain drawn across, and the inadvertent
party, left within, thought no more of the circumstance
till the next morning, that the report had spread over the
city, that a young gentleman had been slain, on a little
washing-green at the side of the North Loch, and at the
very bottom of the close where this thoughtless party
had been assembled.
Several of them, on ﬁrst hearing the report, hasted
to the dead-room in the old Guard-house, where the
corpse had been deposited, and soon discovered the body


56 The Private Memoirs and
to be that of their friend and late entertainer, George
Colwan. Great were the consternation and grief of all
concerned, and in particular, of his old father and Miss
Logan; for George had always been the sole hope and
darling of both, and the news of the event paralyzed
them so as to render them incapable of all thought or
exertion. The spirit of the old laird was broken by the
blow, and he descended at once from a jolly, good-
natured and active man, to a mere driveller, weeping
over the body of his son, kissing his wound, his lips, and
his cold brow alternately; denouncing vengeance on his
murderers, and lamenting that he himself had not met
the cruel doom, so that the hope of his race might have
been preserved. In short, ﬁnding that all further motive
of action and object of concern or of love, here below,
were for ever removed from him, he abandoned himself to
despair, and threatened to go down to the grave with his
son.
But although he made no attempt to discover the
murderers, the arm of justice was not idle ; and it being
evident to all, that the crime must infalliny be brought
home to young Drummond, some of his friends sought
him out, and compelled him, sorely against his will, to
retire into concealment till the issue of the proof that
should be led was made known. At the same time, he
denied all knowledge of the incident with a resolution
that astonished his intimate friends and relations, who
to a man suspected him guilty. His father was not in
Scotland, for I think it was said to me that this young
man was second son to a John, Duke of Melfort, who
lived abroad with the royal family of the Stuarts; but
this young gentleman lived with the relations of his
mother, one of whom, an uncle, was a Lord of Session :


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 57
these having thoroughly effected his concealment, went
away, and listened to the evidence ; and the examination
of every new witness convinced them that their noble
young relative was the slayer of his friend.
All the young gentlemen of the party were examined,
save Drummond, who, when sent for, could not be
found, which circumstance sorely conﬁrmed the suspicions
against him in the minds of judges and jurors, friends
and enemies; and there is little doubt, that the care of
his relations in concealing him, injured his character
and his cause. The young gentlemen, of whom the
party was composed, varied considerably, with respect
to the quarrel between him and the deceased. Some
of them had neither heard nor noted it; others had,
but not one of them could tell how it began. Some
of them had heard the threat uttered by Drummond
on leaving the house, and one only had noted him lay
his hand on his sword. Not one of them could
swear that it was Drummond who came to the door, and
desired to speak with the deceased, but the general
impression on the minds of them all, was to that effect ;
and one of the women swore that she heard the voice
distinctly at the door, and every word that voice pro
nounced ; and at the same time heard the deceased say
that it was Drummond’s.
On the other hand, there were some evidences on
Drummond’s part, which Lord Craigie, his uncle, had taken
care to collect. He produced the sword which his
nephew had worn that night, on which there was
neither blood nor blemish; and above all, he insisted on
the evidence of a number of surgeons, who declared that
both the wounds which the deceased had received, had
been given behind. One of these was below the left arm,


58 The Private Memoirs and’
and a slight one; the other was quite through the body,
and both evidently inﬂicted with the same weapon, a
two-edged sword, of the same dimensions as that worn
by Drummond.
Upon the whole, there was a division in the court,
but a majority decided it. Drummond was pronounced
guilty of the murder, outlawed for not appearing, and
a high reward offered for his apprehension. It was with
the greatest difficulty that he escaped on board of a small
trading vessel, which landed him in Holland, and from
thence, ﬂying into Germany, he entered into the service
of the Emperor Charles VI. Many regretted that he
was not taken, and made to suffer the penalty due for
such a crime, and the melancholy incident became a
pulpit theme over a great part of Scotland, being held
up as a proper warning to youth to beware of such
haunts of vice and depravity, the nurses of all that is
precipitate, immoral, and base, among mankind.
After the funeral of this promising and excellent
young man, his father never more held up his head.
Miss Logan, with all her art, could not get him to
attend to any worldly thing, or to make any settlement
whatsoever of his affairs, save making her over a present
of what disposable funds he had about him. As to his
estates, when they were mentioned to him, he wished
them all in the bottom of the sea, and himself along
with them. But whenever she mentioned the circum-
stance of Thomas Drummond having been the murderer
of his son, he shook his head, and once made the
remark, that ‘It was all a mistake, a gross and fatal
error ; but that God, who had permitted such a ﬂagrant
deed, would bring it to light in His own time and way.’
In a few weeks he followed his son to the grave, and


Ionfessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 59
the notorious Robert Wringhim took possession of his
estates as the lawful son of the late laird, born in
wedlock, and under his father’s roof. The investiture
was celebrated by prayer, singing of psalms, and religious
disputation. The late guardian and adopted father, and
the mother of the new laird, presided on the grand
occasion, making a conspicuous ﬁgure in all the work of
the day ; and though the youth himself indulged rather
more freely in the bottle than he had ever been seen
to do before, it was agreed by all present that there had
never been a festivity so sanctiﬁed within the great hall
of Dalcastle. Then, after due thanks returned, they
parted rejoicing in spirit; which thanks, by the by,
consisted wholly in telling the Almighty what He was ;
and informing him, with very particular precision, what
they were who addressed him; for Wringhim’s whole
system of popular declamation consisted, it seems, in
this,—-to denounce all men and women to destruction,
and then hold out hopes to his adherents that they were
the chosen few, included in the promises, and who
could never fall away. It would appear that this
pharisaical doctrine is a very delicious one, and the most
grateful of all others to the worst characters.
But the ways of heaven are altogether inscrutable, and
soar as far above and beyond the works and the compre-
hensions of man, as the sun, ﬂaming in majesty, is above
the tiny boy’s evening rocket. It is the controller of
Nature alone that can bring light out of darkness, and
order out of confusion. Who is' He that causeth the mole,
from his secret path of darkness to throw up the gem,
the gold, and the precious ore? The same that from
the mouths of babes and sucklings can extract the perfec-
tion of praise, and who can make the most abject of


60 The Private Memoirs ' and'
His creatures instrumental in bringing the most hidden
truths to light.
Miss Logan had never lost the thought of her late
master’s prediction, that Heaven would bring to light
the truth concerning the untimely death of his son.
She perceived that some strange conviction, too horrible
for expression, preyed on his mind from the moment
that the fatal news reached him, to the last of his exist-
ence; and in his last ravings, he uttered some incoherent
words about justiﬁcation by faith alone, and absolute and
eternal predestination having been the ruin of his house.
These, to be sure, were the words of superannuation,
and of the last and severest kind of it; but for all
that, they sunk deep into Miss Logan’s soul, and at
last she began to think with herself, ‘Is it possible the
Wringhims, and the sophisticating wretch who is in
conjunction with them, the mother of my late beautiful
and amiable young master, can have eﬂ'ected his destruc-
tion? if so, I will spend my days, and my little patrimony,
in endeavours to rake up and expose the unnatural
deed.’
In all her outgoings and incomings, Mrs Logan (as she
was now styled) never lost sight of this one object. Every
new disappointment only whetted her desire to ﬁsh up
some particulars concerning it; for she thought so long,
and so ardently upon it, that by degrees it became settled
in her mind as a sealed truth. And as woman is always
most jealous of her own sex in such matters, her suspicions
were ﬁxed on her greatest enemy, Mrs Colwan, now the
Lady Dowager of Dalcastle. All was wrapt in a chaos of
confusion and darkness; but at last, by dint of a thousand
sly and secret inquiries, Mrs Logan found out where Lady
Dalcastle had been on the night that the murder


tonfessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 61
l
happened, and likewise what company she had kept, as
well as some of the comers and goers; and she had hopes
of having discovered a cue, which, if she could keep hold
J of the thread, would lead her through darkness to the
light of truth.
Returning very late one evening from a convocation
of family servants, which she had drawn together in order
to ﬁsh something out of them, her maid having been in
attendance on her all the evening, they found on going
home, that the house had been broken into, and a number
of valuable articles stolen therefrom. Mrs Logan had
grown quite heartless before this stroke, having been
altogether unsuccessful in her inquiries, and now she
began to entertain some resolutions of giving up the
fruitless search.
In a few days thereafter, she received intelligence that
her clothes and plate were mostly recovered, and that
She for one was bound over to prosecute the depre-
dator, provided the articles turned out to be hers,
as libelled in the indictment, and as a king’s evidence
had given out. She was likewise summoned, or re-
quested, I know not which, being ignorant of these
matters, to go as far as the town of Peebles on Tweedside,
in order to survey these articles on such a day, and make
afﬁdavit to their identity before the sheriff. She went
accordingly: but on entering the town by the North
Gate, she was accosted by a poor girl in tattered apparel,
who with great earnestness inquired if her name was not
Mrs Logan? On being answered in the afﬁrmative, she
said that the unfortunate prisoner in the tolbooth re-
quested her, as she valued all that was dear to her in life,
to go and see her before she appeared in court, at the
hour of cause, as she (the prisoner) had something of the


62 The Private Memoirs an
greatest moment to impart to her. Mrs Logan’s
curiosity was excited, and she followed the girl straight to
the tolbooth, who by the way said to her, that she would
ﬁnd in the prisoner a woman of a superior mind, who
had gone through all the vicissitudes of life. ‘She has
been very unfortunate, and I fear very wicked,’ added the
poor thing, ‘but she is my mother, and God knows, with
all her faults and failings, she has never been unkind to
me. You, madam, have it in your power to save her;
but she has wronged you, and therefore if you will not
do it for her sake, do it for mine, and the God of the
fatherless will reward you.’
Mrs Logan answered her with a cast of the head, and a
hem! and only remarked that ‘The guilty must not
always he suffered to escape, or what a world must we be
doomed to live in ! ’
She was admitted to the prison, and found a tall
emaciated ﬁgure, who appeared to have once possessed a
sort of masculine beauty in no ordinary degree, but was
now considerably advanced in years. She viewed Mrs
Logan with a stern, steady gaze, as if reading her features
as a margin to her intellect ; and when she addressed her
it was not with that humility, and agonised fervour,which
are natural for one in such circumstances to address
to another, who has the power of her life and death
in her hands.
‘I am deeply indebted to you for this timely visit, Mrs
Logan,’ said she. ‘It is not that I value life, or because I
fear death, that I have sent for you so expressly. But
the manner of the death that awaits me, has something
peculiarly revolting in it to a female mind. Good God!
when I think of being hung up, a spectacle to a gazing,
gaping multitude, with numbers of which I have had


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 63
n
intimacies and connexions, that would render the moment
of parting so hideous, that, believe me, it rends to ﬂinders
a soul born for another sphere than that in which it has
moved, had not the vile selﬁshness of a lordly ﬁend
r ruined all my prospects, and all my hopes. Hear me
\‘ then; for I do not ask your pity; I only ask of you to
l look to yourself, and behave with womanly prudence. If
you deny this day that these goods are yours, there is no
other evidence whatever against my life, and it is safe for
the present. For as for the word of the wretch who has
betrayed me, it is of no avail; he has prevaricated so
notoriously to save himself. If you deny them, you shall
have them all again to the value of a mite, and more to
the bargain. If you swear to the identity of them, the
process will, one way and another, cost you the half of
what they are worth.’
1 ‘And what security have I for that?’ said Mrs Logan.
‘ You have none but my word,’ said the other proudly,
‘and that never yet was violated. If you cannot take
that, I know the worst you can do.—But I had forgot—
I have a poor helpless child without, waiting, and starving
about the prison door ; surely it was of her that I wished
to speak. This shameful death of mine will leave her in
a deplorable state.’
‘The girl seems to have candour and strong affections,‘
said Mrs Logan; ‘I grievously mistake if such a child
’ would not be a thousand times better without such a
guardian and director.’
‘Then will you be so kind as come to the Grass
Market, and see me put down P’ said the prisoner. ‘I
thought a woman would estimate a woman’s and a
mother’s feelings, when such a dreadful throw was at
stake, at least in part. But you are callous, and have


64 The Private Memoirs an
never known any feelings but those of subordination to
your old unnatural master. Alas, I have no cause of
offence! I have wronged you; and justice must take its
course. Will you forgive me before we part ? ’
Mrs Logan hesitated, for her mind ran on something
else: on which the other subjoined, ‘No, you will not
forgive me, I see. But you will pray to God to forgive
me ? I know you will do tlzat.’
Mrs Logan heard not this jeer, but looking at the
prisoner with an absent, stupid stare, she said, ‘ Did you
know my late master?’
‘Ay, that I did, and never for any good,’ said she. ‘I
knew the old and the young spark both, and was by when
the latter was slain.’
This careless sentence affected Mrs Logan in a most
peculiar manner. A shower of tears burst from her eyes
ere it was done, and when it was, she appeared like one
bereaved of her mind. She ﬁrst turned one way and
then another, as if looking for something she had
dropped. She seemed to think she had lost her eyes,
instead of her tears, and at length, as by instinct, she
tottered close up to the prisoner’s face, and looking wist-
fully and joyfully in it, said, with breathless earnestness,
‘ Pray, mistress, what is your name?’
‘My name is Arabella Calvert,’ said the other : ‘Miss,
Mistress, or widow, as you choose, for I have been all the
three, and that not once or twice only—Ay, and some-
thing beyond all these. But as for you, you have never
been anything ! ’
‘Ay, ay! and so you are Bell Calvert? Well I
thought so—I thought so,’ said Mrs Logan ; and helping
herself to a seat, she came and sat down close by the
prisoner’s knee. ‘So you are indeed Bell Calvert, so-


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 65
called once. Well, of all the world you are the woman
whom I have longed and travailed the most to see. But
you were invisible ; a being to be heard of, not seen.’
‘There have been days, madam,’ returned she, ‘when
I was to be seen, and when there were few to be seen
like me. But since that time there have indeed been
days on which I was not to be seen. My crimes have
been great, but my sufferings have been greater: so
great, that neither you nor the; world can ever either
know or conceive them. I hope they will be taken into
account by the Most High. Mine have been crimes of
utter desperation. But whom am I Speaking to! You
had better leave me to myself, mistress.’
‘Leave you to yourself? That I will be 10th to do,
till you tell me where you were that night my young
master was murdered?’
‘ Where the devil would, I was ! Will that sufﬁce you ?
Ah, it was a vile action I A night to be remembered that
was l—Won’t you be going? I want to trust my
daughter with a commission.’ ‘
‘No, Mrs Calvert, you and I part not, till you have
divulged that mystery to me.’
‘You must accompany me to the other world, then,
for you shall not have it in this.’
‘If you refuse to answer me, I can have you! before
a tribunal, where you shall be sifted to the soul.’
‘Such miserable inanityl What care I for your
threatenings of a tribunal? I who must so soon stand
before my last earthly one? What could the word of
such a culprit avail? Or if it could, where is the judge
that could enforce it? ’
‘Did you not say that there was some mode of ac-
commodating matters on that score ? ’
E


66 The Private Memoirs and
‘Yes, I prayed you to grant me my life, which is in
your power. The saving of it would not have cost you a
plack, yet you refused to do it. The taking of it will
cost you a great deal, and yet to that purpose you
adhere. I can have no parley with such a spirit. I
would not have my life in a present from its motions,
nor would I exchange courtesies with its possessor.’
‘Indeed, Mrs Calvert, since ever we met, I have been
so busy thinking about who you might be, that I know
not what you have been proposing. I believe I meant
to do what I could to save you. But once for all, tell me
everything that you know concerning that amiable
young gentleman’s death, and here is my hand there
shall be nothing wanting that I can effect for you.’
‘No, I despise all barter with such mean and selﬁsh
curiosity ; and, as I believe that passion is stronger with
you, than fear is with me, we part on equal terms. Do
your worst-; and my secret shall go to the gallows and
the grave with me.’
Mrs Logan was now greatly confounded, and after
proffering in vain to concede everything she could ask in
exchange, for the particulars relating to the murder, she
became the suppliant in her turn. But the unaccountable
culprit, exulting in her advantage, laughed her to scorn ;
and ﬁnally, in a paroxysm of pride and impatience,
called in the jailor, and had her expelled, ordering him
in her hearing, not Ito grant her admittance a second
time, on any pretence.
Mrs Logan was now hard put to it, and again driven
almost to despair. She might have succeeded in the
attainment of that she thirsted for most in life so easily,
had she known the character which she had to deal
with—had she known to have soothed her high and


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 67
afﬂicted spirit: but that opportunity was past, and
the hour of examination at hand. She once thought
of going and claiming her articles, as she at ﬁrst
intended; but then, when she thought again of the
Wringhims swaying it at Dalcastle, where she had
been wont to hear them held in such contempt, if not
abhorrence, and perhaps of holding it by the most
diabolical means, she was withheld from marring the
only chance that remained of having a glimpse into that
mysterious affair.
Finally she resolved not to answer to her name in the
court, rather than to appear and assert a falsehood,
which she might be called on to certify by oath. She did
so; and heard the Sheriff give orders to the oﬂicers to
make inquiry for Miss Logan from Edinburgh, at the
various places of entertainment in town, and to expedite
her arrival in court, as thin gs of great value were in
dependence. She also heard the man who turned king’s
evidence against the prisoner, examined for the second
time, and sifted more cunningly. His answers gave
anything but satisfaction to the Sheriff, though Mrs
Logan believed them to be mainly truth. But there
were a few questions and answers that struck her above
all others.
‘How long is it since Mrs Calvert and you became
acquainted P ’
‘About a year and a half.’
‘State the precise time, if you please; the day,
or night, according to your remembrance.’
‘ It was on the morning of the 28th of February, I705.’
‘ What time of the morning? ’
‘Perhaps about one.’
‘ So early as that P At what place did you meet then ? ’


84 The Private Memoirs and
He pursue for the sake of justice! No; his efforts
have all been for evil, but never for good. But I raised
the alarm ; miserable and degraded as I was. I pursued
and raised the watch myself. Have you not heard the
name of Bell Calvert coupled with that hideous and
mysterious aﬁ'air.’ ,
‘Yes, I have. In secret often I have heard it. But
how came it that you could never be found? How
came it that you never appeared in defence of the
Honourable Thomas Drummond ;—you, the Only person
who could have justiﬁed him ?’
‘I could not, for I then fell under the power and
guidance of a wretch, who durst not for the soul of him
be brought forward in the affair. And what was worse,
his evidence would have overborne mine, for he would
have sworn that the man who called out and fought
Colwan was the same he met leaving my apartment,
and there was an end of it. And, moreover, it is well-
known that this same man—this wretch of whom I
speak, never mistook one man for another in his life,
which makes the mystery of the likeness between this
incendiary and Drummond the more extraordinary.’
‘If it was Drummond, after all that you have asserted,
then are my surmises still wrong.’
‘There is nothing of which I can be more certain,
than that it was not Drummond. We have nothing on
earth but our senses to depend upon: if these deceive
us, what are we to do? I own I cannot account for it ;
nor ever shall be able to account for it as long as I live.’
‘Could you know the man in black, if you saw him
again ? ’
‘I think I could if I saw him walk or run: his gait
was very particular: he walked as if he had been ﬂat-


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 85
soled, and his legs made of steel, without any joints in
his feet or ankles.’
‘The very same! The very same! The very same!
Pray will you take a few days’ journey into the country
with me, to look at such a man P’
‘ You have preserved my life, and for you I will do any
thing. I will accompany you with pleasure : and I think
' I can say that I will know him, for his form left an
impression on my heart not soon to be effaced. But _of
this I am sure, that my unworthy companion will
recognise him, and that he will be able to swear to his
identity every day as long as he lives.’
‘Where is he? Where is he?’ 0! Mrs Calvert,
where is be P’
‘Where is he? He is the wretch whom you heard
giving me up to the death; who, after experiencing
every mark of affection that a poor ruined being could
confer, and after committing a thousand atrocities of
which she was ignorant, became an informer to save his
diabolical life, and attempted to offer up mine as a
sacriﬁce for all. We will go by ourselves ﬁrst, and I will
tell you if it is necessary to send any further.’
The two dames, the very next morning, dressed
themselves like country goodwives ; and, hiring two
stout ponies furnished with pillions, they took their
journey westward, and the second evening after leaving
Edinburgh they arrived at the village about two miles
below Dalcastle, where they alighted. But Mrs Logan,
being anxious to have Mrs Calvert’s judgment without
either hint or preparation, took care not to mention that
they were so near to the end of their journey. In
conformity with this plan, she said, after they had sat
awhile, ‘Heigh-ho, but I am weary! What suppose we


86 The Private Memoirs and
should rest a day here before we proceed further on our
journey ? ’
Mrs Calvert was leaning on the casement, and looking
out when her companion addressed these words to her,
and by far too much engaged to return any answer, for
her eyes were riveted on two young men who approached
from the further end of the village ; and at length,
turning round her head, she said with the most intense
interest, ‘Proceed further on our journey, did you say?
That we need not do ; for, as I live, here comes the very
man ! ’
Mrs Logan ran to the window, and behold there was
indeed Robert Wringhim Colwan (now the Laird of Dal-
castle) coming forward almost below their window,
walking arm in arm with another young man ; and as
the two passed, the latter looked up and made a sly
signal to the two dames, biting his lip, winking with his
left eye, and nodding his head. Mrs Calvert was
astonished at this recognisance, the young man’s former
companion having made exactly such another signal on
the night of the duel, by the light of the moon; and it
struck her, moreover, that she had somewhere seen this
young man’s face before. She looked after him, and he
winked over his shoulder to her ; but she was prevented
from returning his salute by her companion, who uttered
a loud cry, between a groan and a shriek, and fell down
on the ﬂoor with a rumble like a wall that had suddenly
been undermined. She had fainted quite away, and re-
quired all her companion’s attention during the remainder
of the evening, for she had scarcely ever well recovered
out of one ﬁt before she fell into another; and in the
short intervals she raved like one distracted, or in a dream.
After falling into a sound sleep by night, she recovered


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 87
her equanimity, and the two began to converse seriously
on what they had seen. Mrs Calvert averred that the
young man who passed next to the window, was the
very man who stabbed George Colwan in the back, and
she said she was willing to take her oath on it at any
time when required, and was certain if the wretch
Ridsley saw him, that he would make oath to the same
purport, for that his walk was so peculiar, no one
of common discernment could mistake it.
Mrs Logan was in great agitation, and said, ‘It is what
I have suspected all along, and what I am sure my late
master and benefactor was persuaded of, and the horror
of such an idea cut short his days. That wretch, Mrs
Calvert, is the born brother of him he murdered ; sons
of the same mother they were, whether or not of the
same father, the Lord only knows. But, 0, Mrs Calvert,
that is not the main thing that has discomposed me, and
shaken my nerves to pieces at this time. Who do you
think the young man was who walked in his company
to-night ? ’
‘I cannot for my life recollect, but am convinced I
have seen the same ﬁne form and face before.’
‘And did not he seem to know us, Mrs Calvert? You
who are able to recollect things as they happened, did
he not seem to recollect us, and make signs to that
effect ? ’
‘He did, indeed, and apparently with great good
humour.’
‘0, Mrs Calvert, hold me, else I shall fall into hysterics
againl Who is he? Tell me who you suppose he is,
for I cannot say my own thought.’
‘On my life, I cannot remember.’
‘ Did you note the-appearance of the young gentleman


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 69
and her maid were again summoned as witnesses before
the jury, and compelled by the prosecutor for the Crown
to appear.
The maid was ﬁrst called; and when she came into the
witnesses’ box, the anxious and hopeless looks of the
prisoner were manifest to all; but the girl, whose name,
she said, was Bessy Gillies, answered in so ﬂippant and
fearless a way, that the auditors were much amused.
After a number of routine questions, the depute-advocate
asked her if she was at home on the morning of the
ﬁfth of September last, when her mistress’s house was
robbed P '
‘Was I at hame, say ye? Na, faith-ye, lad! An’ I
had been at hame, there had been mair to dee. I wad
hae raised sic a yelloch l ’
‘ Where were you that morning? ’
‘ Where was I, say you ? I was in the house where my
mistress was, sitting dozing an’ half sleeping in the
kitchen. I thought aye she would be setting out every
minute, for twa hours.’
‘And when you went home, what did you ﬁnd? ’
‘What found we? Be my sooth, we found a broken
lock, an’ toom kists.’
‘Relate some of the particulars, if you please.’
‘Oh, sir, the thieves didna stand upon particulars : they
were halesale dealers in a’ our best wares.’
‘I mean, what passed between your mistress and you
on the occasion ? ’
‘What passed, say ye? Oh, there wasna muckle: I
was in a great passion, but she was dung doitriﬁed a wee
When she gaed to put the key i’ the door, up it ﬂew to
the fer wa’—“ Bess, ye jaud, what’s the meaning 0’ this ? ”
quo she. “Ye hae left the door open, ye tawpie ! ” quo


70 The Private Memoirs and
she. “The ne’er 0’ that I did,” quo I, “ or may my shankel
bane never turn another key.” When we got the candle
lightit, a’ the house was in a hoad-road. “Bessie, my
woman,” quo she, “we are baith ruined and undone
creatures.” “The deil a bit,” quo I; “that I deny posi-
tively.” H’mh! to speak 0’ a lass 0' my age being ruined
and undone ! I never had muckle except what was within
a good jerkin, an’ let the thief ruin me there wha can.’
‘Do you remember aught else that your mistress said
on the occasion? Did you hear her blame any person?’
‘0, she made a great deal 0’ grumphing an’ groaning
about the misfortune, as she ca’d it, an’ I think she said
it was a part 0’ the ruin wrought by‘the Ringans, or some
sic name—~“ they’ll hae’t a’! they’ll hae’t a’ ! ” cried she,
wringing her hands; “they’ll hae’t a’, an’ hell wi’t, an’
they’ll get them baith.” “Aweel, that’s aye some satis-
faction,” quo I.’
‘Whom did she mean by the Ringans, do you know?’
‘ I fancy they are some creatures that she has dreamed
about, for I think there canna be as ill folks living as she
ca’s them.’
‘Did you never hear her say that the prisoner at the
bar there, Mrs Calvert, or Bell Calvert, was the robber of
her house; or that she was one of the Ringans ? ’
‘Never. Somebody tauld her lately, that ane Bell
Calvert robbed her house, but she disna believe it.
Neither do I.’
‘What reasons have you for doubting it? ’
‘ Because it was nae woman’s ﬁngers that broke up the
bolts an’ the locks that were torn open that night.’
‘Very pertinent, Bessie. Come then within the bar,
and look at these articles on the table. Did you ever
see these silver spoons before? ’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 71
‘I hae seen some very like them, and whaever has
seen siller spoons, has done the same.’
‘Can you swear you never saw them before P ’ ,
‘Na, na, I wadna swear to ony siller spoons that ever
war made, unless I had put a private mark on them wi’
my aim hand, an’ that’s what I never did to ane.’
‘ See, they are all marked with a C.’
‘Sae are a’ the spoons in Argyle, an’ the half 0’ them
in Edinburgh I think. A C is a very common letter, an’
so are a’ the names that begin wi’t. Lay them by, lay
them by, an’ gie the poor woman her spoons again.
They are marked wi’ her ain name, an’ I hae little doubt
they are hers, an’ that she has seen better days.’
‘Ah, God bless her heart!’ sighed the prisoner; and
that blessing was echoed in the breathings of many a
feeling breast.
‘Did you ever see this gown before, think you P’
‘ I hae seen ane very like it.’
‘Could you not swear that gown was your mistress’s
once P ’
‘No, unless I saw her hae’t on, an’ kend that she had
paid for’t. I am very scrupulous about an oath. Like is
an ill mark. Sae ill indeed, that I wad hardly swear to
onything.’
‘But you say that gown is very like one your mistress
used to wear.’
‘I never said sic a thing. It is like one I hae seen her
hae out airing on the hay raip i’ the back green. It is
very like ane I hae seen Mrs Butler in the Grass Market
wearing too; I rather think it is the same. Bless you.
sir, I wadna swear to my ain fore-ﬁnger, if it had been as
lang out 0’ my sight, an’ brought in an’ laid on that table.’
‘Perhaps you are not aware, girl, that this scrupulous


68 The Private Memoirs and
‘It was at the foot of one of the north wynds of
Edinburgh.’
‘ Was it by appointment that you met?’
‘No, it was not.’
‘For what purpose was it then?’
‘For no purpose.’
‘How is it that you chance to remember the day and
hour so minutely, if you met that woman, whom you
have accused, merely by chance, and for no manner of
purpose, as you must have met others that night, perhaps
to the amount of hundreds, in the same way?’
‘I have good cause to remember it, my lord.’
‘What was that cause ?-—No-’ answer ?—You don’t
choose to say what that cause was?’
‘I am not at liberty to tell.’
The Sheriff then descended to other particulars, all of
which tended to prove that the fellow was an accom-
plished villain, and that the principal share of the
atrocities had been committed by him. Indeed the
Sheriff hinted, that he suspected the only share Mrs
Calvert had in them, was in being too much in his
company, and too true to him. The case was remitted to
the Court of Justiciary; but Mrs Logan had heard
enough to convince her that the culprits ﬁrst met at the
very spot, and the very hour, on which George Colwan
was slain; and she had no doubt that they were
incendiaries set on by his mother, to forward her own
and her darling son’s way to opulence. Mrs Logan was
wrong, as will appear in the sequel ; but her antipathy to
Mrs Colwan made her watch the event with all care. She
never quitted Peebles as long as Bell Calvert remained
there, and when she was removed to Edinburgh, the
other followed. When the trial came on, Mrs Logan
. m I


70 The Private Memoirs and
she. “The ne’er 0’ that I did,” quo I, “ or may my shankel
bane never turn another key.” When we got the candle
lightit, a’ the house was in a hoad-road. “Bessie, my
woman,” quo she, “we are baith ruined and undone
creatures.” “The deil a bit,” quo I; “that I deny posi-
tively.” H’mh! to speak 0’ a lass o’ my age being ruined
and undone ! I never had muckle except what was within
a good jerkin, an’ let the thief ruin me there wha can.’
‘Do you remember aught else that your mistress said
on the occasion ? Did you hear her blame any person P ’
‘0, she made a great deal 0’ grumphing an’ groaning
about the mzkfortune, as she ca’d it, an’ I think she said
it was a part 0’ the ruin wrought by-the Ringans, or some
sic name—“ they’ll hae’t a’! they’ll hae’t a’ ! ” cried she,
wringing her hands; “they’ll hae’t a’, an’ hell wi’t, an’
they’ll get them baith.” “Aweel, that’s aye some satis-
faction,” quo I.’
‘Whom did she mean by the Ringans, do you know? ’
‘I fancy they are some creatures that she has dreamed
about, for I think there canna be as ill folks living as she
ca’s them.’
‘Did you never hear her say that the prisoner at the
bar there, Mrs Calvert, or Bell Calvert, was the robber of
her house; or that she was one of the Ringans ? ’
‘Never. Somebody tauld her lately, that ane Bell
Calvert robbed her house, but she disna believe it.
Neither do I.’
‘What reasons have you for doubting it? ’
‘ Because it was nae woman’s ﬁngers that broke up the
bolts an’ the locks that were torn open that night.’
‘Very pertinent, Bessie. Come then within the bar,
and look at these articles on the table. Did you ever
see these silver spoons before? ’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 7r
‘1 hae seen some very like them, and whaever has
seen siller spoons, has done the same.’
‘Can you swear you never saw them before P ’ _
‘Na, na, I wadna swear to ony siller spoons that ever
war made, unless I had put a private mark on them wi’
my ain hand, an’ that’s what I never did to ane.’
‘ See, they are all marked with a C.’
‘Sae are a’ the spoons in Argyle, an’ the half 0’ them
in Edinburgh I think. A C is a very common letter, an’
so are a’ the names that begin wi’t. Lay them by, lay
them by, an’ gie the poor woman her spoons again.
They are marked wi’ her ain name, an’ I hae little doubt
they are hers, an’ that she has seen better days.’
‘Ah, God bless her heart!’ sighed the prisoner; and
that blessing was echoed in the breathings of many a
feeling breast.
‘Did you ever see this gown before, think you? ’
‘ I hae seen ane very like it.’
‘Could you not swear that gown was your mistress’s
once P ’
‘No, unless I saw her hae’t on, an’ kend that she had
paid for’t. I am very scrupulous about an oath. Like is
an ill mark. Sae ill indeed, that I wad hardly swear to
onything.’
‘But you say that gown is very like one your mistress
used to wear.’
‘I never said sic a thing. It is like one I hae seen her
hae out airing on the hay raip i’ the back green. It is
very like ane I hae seen Mrs Butler in the Grass Market
wearing too; I rather think it is the same. Bless you,
sir, I wadna swear to my ain fore-ﬁnger, if it had been as
lang out o’ my sight, an’ brought in an’ laid on that table.’
‘Perhaps you are not aware, girl, that this scrupulous


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 73
and proffered to withdraw my part in the prosecution,
as well as my evidence, provided she would tell me a few
simple facts ; but she spurned at my offer, and had me
turned insolently out of the prison, with order to the
jailor never to admit me again on any pretence.’
The prisoner’s counsel taking hold of this evidence,
addressed the jury with great ﬂuency; and ﬁnally the
prosecution was withdrawn, and the prisoner dismissed
from the bar with a severe reprimand for her past
conduct, and an exhortation to keep better company.
It was not many days till a caddy came with a large
parcel to Mrs Logan’s house, which parcel he delivered
into her hands, accompanied with a sealed note, con-
taining an inventory of the articles, and a request to
know if the unfortunate Arabella Calvert would be
admitted to converse with Mrs Logan.
Never was there a woman so much overjoyed as Mrs
‘ Logan was at this message. She returned compliments ;
would be most happy to see her ; and no article of the
parcel should be looked at, or touched, till her arrival.—
It was not long till she made her appearance, dressed in
somewhat better style than She had yet seen her; de-
livered her over the greater part of the stolen property,
besides many things that either had belonged to Mrs
Logan, or that she thought proper to deny, in order that
the other might retain them.
The tale that she told of her misfortunes was of the
most distressing nature, and was enough to stir up all
the tender, as well as abhorrent feelings in the bosom
of humanity. She had suffered every deprivation in
fame, fortune, and person. She had been imprisoned;
she had been scourged, and branded as an imposter ;
and all on account of her resolute and unmoving ﬁdelity


76 The Private Memoirs and
mony, and we soon found ourselves together in the best
room of a house where everything was wretched. He still
looked about him, and at me ; but all this while he had
never spoken a word. At length, I asked if he would
take any refreshment ; “If you please,” said he. I asked
what he would have? but he only answered, “What-
ever you choose, madam.” If he was taken with my
address, I was much more taken with his; for he was a
complete gentleman, and a gentleman will ever act as
one. At length, he began as follows :
‘ “ I am utterly at a loss to account for this adventure,
madam. It seems to me like enchantment, and I can
hardly believe my senses. An English lady I judge,
and one, who from her manner and address should be-
long to the ﬁrst class of society, in such a place as this,
is indeed matter of wonder to me. At the foot of a
close in Edinburgh! and at this time of night! Surely ‘
it must have been no common reverse of fortune that
reduced you to this ? ” I wept, or pretended to do so ;
on which he added. “Pray, madam, take heart. Tell
me what has befallen you; and if I can do anything ‘
for you, in restoring you to your country or your friends
you shall command my interest.”
‘I had great need of a friend then, and I thought now
was the time to secure one. So I began and told him
the moving tale I have told you. But I soon perceived
that I had kept by the naked truth too unvarnishedly,
and thereby quite overshot my mark. When he learned
that he was sitting in a wretched corner of an irregular
house, with a felon, who had so lately been scourged,
and banished as a swindler and imposter, his modest
nature took the alarm, and he was shocked, instead of
being moved with pity. His eye ﬁxed on some of the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 77
casual stripes on my arm, and from that moment he be-
came restless and impatient to be gone. I tried some
gentle arts to retain him, but in vain; so, after paying
both the landlady and me for pleasures he had neither
tasted nor asked, he took his leave.
‘I showed him downstairs ; and just as he turned the
corner of the next land, a man came rushing violently
by him, exchanged looks with him and came running
up to me. He appeared in great agitation, and was
quite out of breath; and, taking my hand in his, we
ran up stairs together without speaking, and were in-
stantly in the apartment I had left, where a stoup of
wine still stood untasted. “Ah this is fortunate! ” said
my new spark, and helped himself. In the mean while, as
our apartment was a corner one, and looked both east
and north, I ran to the easter casement to look after
Drummond. Now, note me well: I saw him going
eastward in his tartans and bonnet, and the gilded hilt
of his claymore glittering in the moon ; and at the very
same time, I saw two men, the one in black, and the
other likewise in tartans, coming towards the steps from
the opposite bank, by the foot of the loch; and I saw
Drummond and they eyeing each other as they passed.
I kept view of him till he vanished towards Leith Wynd,
and by that time the strangers had come close up under
our window. This is what I wish you to pay particular
attention to. I had only lost sight of Drummond (who
had given me his name and address), for the short space
of time that we took in running up one pair of short
stairs; and during that space he had halted a moment,
for, when I got my eye on him again he had not crossed
the mouth of the next entry, nor proceeded above ten
or twelve paces, and, at the same time, I saw the two


78 The Private Memoirs and
men coming down the bank on the opposite side of the
loch, at about three hundred paces’ distance. Both he
and they were distinctly in my view, and never within
speech of each other, until he vanished into one of the
wynds leading toward the bottom of the High Street, at
which precise time the two strangers came below my
window ; so that it was quite clear he neither could be one
of them, nor have any communication with them.
‘Yet, mark me again ; for of all things I have ever seen,
this was the most singular. When I looked down at
the two strangers, one of them was extremely lz'he
Drummond. So like was he that there was not one
item in dress, form, feature, nor voice, by which I could
distinguish the one from the other. I was certain it was
not he, because I had seen the one going and the other
approaching at the same time, and my impression at the
moment was, that I looked upon some spirit, or demon,
in his likeness. I felt a chillness creep all round my
heart, my knees tottered, and, withdrawing my head
from the open casement that lay in the dark shade, I
said to the man who was with me, “Good God, what is
this!”
“‘ What is it, my dear,” said he, as much alarmed as I
was.
“‘ As I live, there stands an apparition ! ” said I.
‘He was not so much afraid when he heard me say so,
and peeping cautiously out, he looked and listened a
while, and then drawing back, he said in a whisper,
“They are both living men, and one of them is he I
passed at the corner.”
“‘ That he is not,” said I emphatically. “To that I
will make oath.”
‘He smiled and shook his head, and then added, “I


80 The Private Memoirs and
‘ “Oh, I will, I will ! ” cried the other in black clothes in
a wretched beseeching tone. “You shall instruct me in
this, as in all things else.”
‘I thought all this while I was closely concealed from
them, and wondered not a little when he in tartans gave
me a sly nod, as much as to say, “What do you think of
this? ” or “Take note of what you see,” or something to
that effect, from which I perceived, that whatever he was
about, he did not wish it to be kept a secret. For all
that I was impressed with a terror and anxiety that I
could not overcome, but it only made me mark every
event with the more intense curiosity. The Highlander,
whom I still could not help regarding as the evil genius
of Thomas Drummond, performed every action as with
the quickness of thought. He concealed the youth in
black in a narrow entry, a little to the westward of my
windows, and as he was leading him across the moonlit
green by the shoulder, I perceived, for the ﬁrst time, that
both of them were armed with rapiers. He pushed him
without resistance into the dark shaded close, made
another signal to me, and hasted up the close to Lucky
Sudds’ door. The city and the morning were so still
that I heard every word that was uttered, on putting my
head out a little. He knocked at the door sharply, and
after waiting a considerable space, the bolt was drawn,
and the door, as I conceived, edged up as far as the massy
chain would let it. “Is young Dalcastle still in the
house? ” said he sharply.
‘I did not hear the answer, but I heard him say shortly
after, “If he is, pray tell him to speak with me for a few
minutes.” He then withdrew from the door, and came
slowly down the close in a lingering manner, looking oft
behind him. Dalcastle came out ; advanced a few steps


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner.
81
'0' inf-Ml" _|.. <
Elf
we».
after him, and then stood still, as if hesitating whether or
not he should call out a friend to accompany him ; and
that instant the door behind him was closed, chained, and
the iron bolt drawn; on hearing of which he followed
his adversary without further hesitation. As he passed
below my window, I heard him say, “I beseech you, Tom,
let us do nothing in this matter rashly,” but I could not
hear the answer of the other, who had turned the corner.
‘ I roused up my drowsy companion, who was leaning- on
the bed, and we both looked together from the north
window. We were in the shade, but the moon shone
full on the two young gentlemen. Young Dalcastle was
visibly the worse of liquor, and his back being turned
towards us, he said something to the other which I could
not make out, although he spoke a considerable time, and,
from his tones and gestures, appeared to be reasoning.
When he had done, the tall young man in the tartans
drew his sword, and his face being straight to us, we
heard him say distinctly, “No more words about it,
George, if you please; but if you be a man, as I take you
to be. draw your sword, and let us settle it here.”
‘Dalcastle drew his sword without changing his
attitude; but he spoke with more warmth, for we heard
his words, “Think you that I fear you, Tom? Be
assured, sir, I would not fear ten of the best of your
name, at each other’s backs: all that I want is to have
friends with us to see fair play, for if you close with me
you are a dead man.”
‘The other stormed at these words. “You are a
braggart, sir,” cried he, “a wretch—a blot upon the cheek
of nature—a blight on the Christian world—a reprobate
--I’ll have your soul, sir—you must play tennis, and put
down elect brethren in another world to-morrow.” As
F


82 The Private Memoirs and
to offence He gained his point; the latter, who had
previously drawn, advanced in upon his vapouring and
licentious antagonist, and a ﬁerce combat ensued. My
companion was delighted beyond measure, and I could
not keep him from exclaiming, loud enough to have been
heard, “that’s grand! that’s excellent!” For me, my
heart quaked like an aspen. Young Dalcastle either had
a decided advantage over his adversary, or else the other
thought proper to let him have it; for he shifted, and
wore, and ﬂitted from Dalcastle’s thrusts like a shadow,
uttering ofttimes a sarcastic laugh, that seemed to provoke
the other beyond all bearing. At one time he would
spring away to a great distance, then advance again on
young Dalcastle with the swiftness of lightning. But that
young hero always stood his ground, and repelled the
attack : he never gave way, although they fought nearly
twice round the bleaching green, which you know is not
a very small one. At length they fought close up to the
mouth of the dark entry, where the fellow in black stood
all this while concealed, and then the combatant in
tartans closed with his antagonist, or pretended to do so;
but the moment they began to grapple, he wheeled about
turning Colwan’s back towards the entry, and then cried
out, “Ah, hell has it! my friend, my friend.”
‘That moment the fellow in black rushed from his
cover with his drawn rapier, and gave the brave young
Dalcastle two deadly wounds in the back, as quick as arm 1
could thrust, both of which I thought pierced through 1
his body. He fell, and rolling himself on his back, he
perceived who it was that had slain him thus foully, l
and said, with a dying emphasis, which I never heard
equalled, “Oh, dog of hell, is it you who has done this P ”
he said this, he brandished his rapier, exciting Dalcastle
1
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5.7”“


sue. resides NHI'ILL
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_ Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 83
‘He articulated some more, which I could not hear for
other sounds; for the moment that the man in black
inﬂicted the deadly wound, my companion called out,
“That’s unfair, you rip! that’s damnable! to strike a
brave fellow behind 1 One at a time, you cowards ! ” etc.,
to all which the unnatural ﬁend in the tartans answered
with a loud exulting laugh ; and then, taking the poor
paralysed murderer by the bow of the arm, he hurried
him into the dark entry once more, where I lost sight of
them for ever.’
Before this time, Mrs Logan had risen up ; and when
the narrator had ﬁnished, she was standing with her
arms stretched upward at their full length, and her visage
turned down, on which were portrayed the lines of the
most absolute horror. ‘The dark suspicions of my late
benefactor have been just, and his last prediction is ful-
ﬁlled,’ cried she. ‘The murderer of the accomplished
George Colwan has been his own brother, set on, there
is little doubt, by her who bare them both, and her
directing angel, the self-justiﬁed bigot. Aye, and yonder
they sit, enjoying the luxuries so dearly purchased, with
perfect impunity! If the Almighty do not hurl them
down, blasted with shame and confusion, there is no
hope of retribution in this life. And, by His might, I
will be the agent to accomplish it! Why did the man
not pursue the foul murderers? Why did he not raise
the alarm, and call the watch ? ’
‘He? The wretchl He durst not move from the
shelter he had obtained—no, not for the soul of him.
He was pursued for his life at the moment when he
ﬁrst ﬂew into my arms. But I did not know it; no, I
did not then know him. May the curse of heaven,
and the blight of hell, settle on the detestable wretchl


84 The Private Memoirs and
He pursue for the sake of justice! No; his efforts
have all been for evil, but never for good. But I raised
the alarm ; miserable and degraded as I was. I pursued
and raised the watch myself. Have you not heard the
name of Bell Calvert coupled with that hideous and
mysterious affair.’ ,
‘Yes, I have. In secret often I have heard it. But
how came it that you could never be found? How
came it that you never appeared in defence of the
Honourable Thomas Drummond ;—you, the Only person
who could have justiﬁed him ?’
‘I could not, for I then fell under the power and
guidance of a wretch, who durst not for the soul of him
be brought forward in the affair. And what was worse,
his evidence would have overborne mine, for he would
have sworn that the man who called out and fought
Colwan was the same he met leaving my apartment,
and there was an end of it. And, moreover, it is well-
known that this same man—this wretch of whom I
speak, never mistook one man for another in his life,
which makes the mystery of the likeness between this
incendiary and Drummond the more extraordinary.’
‘If it was Drummond, after all that you have asserted,
then are my surmises still wrong.’
‘There is nothing of which I can be more certain,
than that it was not Drummond. We have nothing on
earth but our senses to depend upon: if these deceive
us, what are we to do? I own I cannot account for it ;
nor ever shall be able to account for it as long as I live.’
‘Could you know the man in black, if you saw him
again P ’
‘I think I could if I saw him walk or run: his gait
was very particular: he walked as if he had been ﬂat-


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 85
soled, and his legs made of steel, without any joints in
his feet or ankles.’
‘The very same! The very same! The very same!
Pray will you take a few days’ journey into the country
with me, to look at such a man P’
‘You have preserved my life, and for you I will do any
thing. I will accompany you with pleasure : and I think
' I can say that I will know him, for his form left an
impression on my heart not soon to be eﬂaced. But ‘of
this I am sure, that my unworthy companion will
recognise him, and that he will be able to swear to his
identity every day as long as he lives.’
‘Where is he? Where is he?’ O! Mrs Calvert,
where is he P’
‘Where is he? He is the wretch whom you heard
giving me up to the death; who, after experiencing
every mark of affection that a poor ruined being could
confer, and after committing a thousand atrocities of
which she was ignorant, became an informer to save his
diabolical life, and attempted to offer up mine as a
sacriﬁce for all. We will go by ourselves ﬁrst, and I will
tell you if it is necessary to send any further.’
The two dames, the very next morning, dressed
themselves like country goodwives ; and, hiring two
stout ponies furnished with pillions, they took their
journey westward, and the second evening after leaving
Edinburgh they arrived at the village about two miles
below Dalcastle, where they alighted. But Mrs Logan,
being anxious to have Mrs Calvert’s judgment without
either hint or preparation, took care not to mention that
they were so near to the end of their journey. In
conformity with this plan, she said, after they had sat
awhile, ‘Heigh-ho, but I am weary! What suppose we


86 The Private Memoirs and
should rest a day here before we proceed further on our
journey ? ’
Mrs Calvert was leaning on the casement, and looking
out when her companion addressed these words to her,
and by far too much engaged to return any answer, for
her eyes were riveted on two young men who approached
from the further end of the village ; and at length,
turning round her head, she said with the most intense
interest, ‘ Proceed further on our journey, did you say?
That we need not do ; for, as I live, here comes the very
man !’
Mrs Logan ran to the window, and behold there was
indeed Robert Wringhim Colwan (now the Laird of Dal-
castle) coming forward almost below their window,
walking arm in arm with another young man ; and as
the two passed, the latter looked up and made a sly
signal to the two dames, biting his lip, winking with his
left eye, and nodding his head. Mrs Calvert was
astonished at this recognisance, the young man’s former
companion having made exactly such another signal on
the night of the duel, by the light of the moon; and it
struck her, moreover, that she had somewhere seen this
young man’s face before. She looked after him, and he
winked over his shoulder to her ; but she was prevented
from returning his salute by her companion, who uttered
a loud cry, between a groan and a shriek, and fell down
on the ﬂoor with a rumble like a wall that had suddenly
been undermined. She had fainted quite away, and re-
quired all her companion’s attention during the remainder
of the evening, for she had scarcely ever well recovered
out of one ﬁt before she fell into another; and in the
short intervals she raved like one distracted, or in a dream.
After falling into a sound sleep by night, she recovered


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 87
her equanimity, and the two began to converse seriously
on what they had seen. Mrs Calvert averred that the
young man who passed next to the window, was the
very man who stabbed George Colwan in the back, and
she said she was willing to take her oath on it at any
time when required, and was certain if the wretch
Ridsley saw him, that he would make oath to the same
purport, for that his walk was so peculiar, no one
of common discernment could mistake it.
Mrs Logan was in great agitation, and said, ‘It is what
I have suspected all along, and what I am sure my late
master and benefactor was persuaded of, and the horror
of such an idea cut short his days. That wretch, Mrs
Calvert, is the born brother of him he murdered ; sons
of the same mother they were, whether or not of the
same father, the Lord only knows. But, 0, Mrs Calvert,
that is not the main thing that has discomposed me, and
shaken my nerves to pieces -at this time. Who do you
think the young man was who walked in his company
to-night ? ’
‘I cannot for my life recollect, but am convinced I
have seen the same ﬁne form and face before.’
‘And did not he seem to know us, Mrs Calvert? You
who are able to recollect things as they happened, did
he not seem to recollect us, and make signs to that
effect ? ’
‘He did, indeed, and apparently with great good
humour.’
‘ O, Mrs CaIVert, hold me, else I shall fall into hysterics
again! Who is he? Tell me who you suppose he is,
for I cannot say my own thought.’
‘On my life, I cannot remember.’
‘ Did you note the~appearance of the young gentleman


88 The Private Memoirs and
you saw slain that night? Do you recollect aught
of the appearance of my y0ung master, George
Colwan ? ’
Mrs Calvert sat silent, and stared the other mildly in
the face. Their looks encountered, and there was an
unearthly amazement that gleamed from each, which,
meeting together, caught real ﬁre, and returned the
ﬂame to their heated imaginations, till the two associates
became like two statues, with their hands spread, their
eyes ﬁxed, and their chops fallen down upon their
bosoms. An old woman who kept the lodging-house,
having been called in before when Mrs Logan was
faintish, chanced to enter at this crisis with some
cordial; and, seeing the state of her lodgers, she caught
the infection, and fell into the same rigid and statue-like
appearance. No scene more striking was ever exhibited;
and if Mrs Calvert had not resumed strength of mind to
speak, and break the spell, it is impossible to say how
long it might have continued. ‘It is he, I believe,’ said
she, uttering the words as it were inwardly. ‘It can be
none other but he. But, no, it is impossible! I saw
him stabbed through and through the heart; I saw him
roll backward on the green in his own blood, utter his
last words, and groan away his soul. Yet if it is not he,
who can it be? ’
‘It is he ! ’ cried Mrs Logan hysterically.
‘Yes, yes, it is he ! ’ cried the landlady, in unison.
‘It is who?’ said Mrs Calvert; whom do you mean,
mistress P ’ I
‘ Oh, I don’t know ! I don’t know ! I was affrighted.
‘Hold your peace, then, till you recover your senses,
and tell me, if you can, who that young gentleman is
who keeps company with the new Laird of Dalcastle P’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 89
‘ Oh, it is he ! it is he !’ screamed Mrs Logan, wring~
ing her hands.
‘Oh, it is he! it is he 1’ cried the landlady, wringing
hers. , .
Mrs Calvert turned the latter gently and civilly out
of the apartment, observing that there seemed to be
some infection in the air of the room, and she would be
wise for herself to keep out of it.
The two dames- had a restless and hideous night.
Sleep came not to their relief; for their conversation
was wholly about the dead, who seemed to be alive,
and their minds were wandering and groping in a chaos
of mystery. ‘Did you attend to !his corpse, and know
that he positively died and was buried?’ said Mrs
Calvert. .
‘0 yes, from the moment that his fair but mangled
corpse was brought home,I attended it till it was screwed
in the cofﬁn. I washed the long stripes of blood from
his lifeless form, on both sides of the body—I bathed
the livid wound that passed through his generous and
gentle heart. There was one through the ﬂesh of his
left side, too, which had |bled most outwardly of them
all. I bathed them, and bandaged them up with wax
and perfumed ointment, but still the blood oozed
through all, so that when he was laid in the cofﬁn he
was like one newly murdered. My brave, my generous
young master! he was always as a son to me, and no
son was ever more kind or more respectful to a mother.
But he was butchered—he was cut off from the earth
ere he had well reached to manhood-most barbarously
and unfairly slain. And how is it, how can it be, that
we again see him here, walking arm in arm with his
murderer?’


90 The Private Memoirs and
‘The thing cannot be, Mrs Logan. It is a phantasy
of our disturbed imaginations, therefore let us compose
ourselves till we investigate this matter further.’
‘It cannot be in nature, that is quite clear,’ said Mrs
Logan ; ‘yet how it should be that I should think so—I
who knew and nursed him from his infancy—there lies
the paradox. As you said once before, we have nothing
but our senses to depend on, and if you and I believe
that we see a person, why, we do see him. Whose
word, or whose reasoning can convince us against our
own senses ? We will disguise ourselves, as poor women
selling a few country wares, and we will go up to the
Hall and see what is to see, and hear what we can hear,
for this is a weighty business in which we are engaged,
namely, to turn the vengeance of the law upon an
unnatural monster ; and we will further learn, if we can,
who this is that accompanies him.’
Mrs Calvert acquiesced, and the two dames took their
way to Dalcastle, with baskets well furnished with
triﬂes. They did not take the common path from the
' village, but went about, and approached the mansion by a
different way. But it seemed as if some overruling
power ordered it, that they should miss no chance of
attaining the information they wanted. For ere ever
they came within half a mile of Dalcastle, they perceived
the two youths coming, as to meet them, on the same
path. The road leading from Dalcastle, towards the
north-east, as all the country knows, goes along a dark
bank of brushwood called the Bogle-heuch. It was by
this track that the two women were going; and when
they perceived the two gentlemen meeting them, they
turned back, and the moment they were out of their
sight, they concealed themselves in a thicket close by


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 91
the road. They did this because Mrs Logan was terriﬁed
of being discovered, and because they wished to
reconnoitre without being seen. Mrs Calvert now
charged her, whatever she saw or whatever she heard,
to put on a resolution, and support it, for if she fainted
there and was discovered, what was to become of her?
The two young men came on in earnest and vehement
conversation; but the subject they were on was a
terrible one, and hardly ﬁt to be repeated in the face
of a Christian community. Wringhim was disputing
the boundlessness of the true Christian’s freedom, and
expressing doubts, that, chosen as he knew he was from
all eternity, still it might be possible for him to commit
acts that would exclude him from the limits of the
covenant. The other argued, with mighty ﬂuency, that
the thing was utterly impossible, and altogether incon-
sistent with eternal predestination. The arguments of
the latter prevailed, and the laird was driven to sullen
silence. But, to the women’s utter surprise, as the
conquering disputant passed, he made a signal of re-
cognisance through the brambles to them, as formerly,
and that he might expose his associate fully, and in his
true colours, he led him backward and forward past the
women more than twenty times, making him to confess
both the crimes that he had, done, and those he had in
contemplation. At length he said to him, ‘Assuredly I
saw some vagrant women strolling on this walk, my dear
friend: I wish we could ﬁnd them, for there is little
doubt that they are concealed here in your woods.’
‘I wish we could ﬁnd them,’ answered Wringhim;
‘we would have; ﬁne sport maltreating and abusing
them.’
‘That we should, that we Should! Now tell me,
l


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 9 3
terrible quandary, they durst not stir, for they had some
hopes that this extraordinary person was on a mission
of the same sort with themselves, knew of them, and
was going to make use of their testimony. Mrs Logan
was several times on the point of falling into a swoon,
so much did-the appearance of the young man impress
her, until her associate covered her face that she might
listen without embarrassment. But this latter dialogue
aroused different feelings within them; namely, those
arising from imminent personal danger. They saw his
waggish associate point out the place of their conceal-
ment to Wringhim, who came towards them, out of
curiosity to see what his friend meant by what he believed
to be a joke, manifestly without crediting it in the least
degree. When he came running away, the other called
after him, ‘If she is too hard for you, call to me.’ As
he said this, he hasted out of sight, in the contrary
direction, apparently much delighted with the joke.
Wringhim came rushing through the thicket im-
petuously, to the very spot where Mrs Logan lay
squatted. She held the wrapping close about her head,
but he tore it off and discovered her. ‘The curse of
God be on thee!’ said be; ‘what ﬁend has brought
thee here, and for what purpose art thou come? But,
whatever has brought thee, I have thee ./ ’ and with that
he seized her by the throat. The two women, when
they heard what jeopardy they were in from such a
wretch, had squatted among the underwood at a small
distance from each other, so that he had never observed
Mrs Calvert; but no sooner had he seized her bene-
factress, than, like a wild cat, she sprung out of the
thicket, and had both her hands ﬁxed at his throat, one
of them twisted in his stock, in a twinkling. She


94 The Private Memoirs and
brought him back-over among the brushwood, and the
two, ﬁxing on him like two harpies, mastered him with
ease. Then indeed was he wofully beset. He deemed
for a while that‘ his friend was at his back, and turning
his bloodshot eyes towards the path, he attempted to
call ; but there was no friend there, and the women cut
short his cries by another twist of his stock. ‘Now,
gallant and rightful Laird of Dalcastle,’ said Mrs Logan,
‘what hast thou to say for thyself? Lay thy account
to dree the weird thou hast so well earned. Now shalt
thou suffer due penance for murdering thy brave and
only brother.’
‘Thou liest, thou hag of the pit! I touched not my
brother’s life.’
‘I saw thee do it with these eyes that now look thee
in the face; ay, when his back was to thee too, and
when he was hotly engaged with thy friend,’ said Mrs
Calvert.
‘I heard thee confess it again and again this same
hour,’ said Mrs Logan.
‘Ay, and so did I,’ said her companion.--‘ Murder will
out, though the Almighty should lend hearing to the
ears of the willow, and speech to'the seven tongues of
the woodriff.’
‘You are liars, and witches!’ said he, foaming with
rage, ‘and creatures ﬁtted from the beginning for eternal
destruction. I’ll have your bones and your blood sacri-
ﬁced on your cursed altars! O, Gil-Martin ! Gil-Martin !
where art thou now ? Here, here is the proper food for
blessed vengeance !—Hilloa ! ’
There was no friend, no Gil-Martin there to hear or
assist him : he was in the two women’s mercy, but they
used it with moderation. They mocked, they tormented,


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 95
and they threatened him : but, ﬁnally, after putting him
in great terror, they bound his hands behind his back,
and his feet fast with long straps of garters which they
chanced to have in their baskets, to prevent him from
pursuing them till they were out of his reach. As they
left him, which they did in the middle of the path, Mrs
Calvert said, ‘We could easily put an end to thy sinful
life, but our hands shall be free of thy blood. Neverthe-
less thou art still in our power, and the vengeance of thy
country shall overtake thee, thou mean and cowardly
murderer, ay, and that more suddenly than thou art
awarel’
The women posted to Edinburgh: and as they put
themselves under the protection of an English merchant,
who was journeying thither with twenty horses laden,
and armed servants, so they had scarcely any conversation
on the road. When they arrived at Mrs Logan’s house,
then they spoke of what they had seen and heard, and
agreed that they had sufﬁcient proof to condemn young
Wringhim, who they thought richly deserved the severest
doom of the law.
‘I never in my life saw any human being,’ said Mrs
Calvert, ‘whom I thought so like a ﬁend. If a demon
could inherit ﬂesh and blood, that youth is precisely such
a being as I could conceive that demon to be. The
depth and the malignity of his eye is hideous. His
breath is like the airs from a charnel-house, and his
ﬂesh seems fading from his bones, as if -the worm that
never dies were gnawing it away already.’
‘He was always repulsive, and every way repulsive,’
said the other ; ‘but he is now indeed altered greatly to
the worse. While we were handfasting him, I felt his
body to be feeble and emaciated ; but yet I know him to


96 The Private Memoirs and
be so puffed up with spiritual pride, that I believe he
weens every one of his actions justiﬁed before God, and
instead of having stings of conscience for these, he takes
great merit to himself in having affected them. Still my
thoughts are less about him than the extraordinary being
who accompanies him. He does every thing with so
much ease and indifference, so much velocity and effect,
that all bespeak him an adept in wickedness. The
likeness to my late hapless young master is so striking,
that I can hardly believe it to be a chance model ; and I
think he imitates him in every thing, for some purpose,
or some effect on his sinful associate. Do you know that
he is so like in every lineament, look, and gesture, that
against the clearest light of reason, I cannot in my mind
separate the one from the other, and have a certain
indeﬁnable impression on my mind, that they are one
and the same being, or that the one was a prototype of
the other.’
‘If there is an earthly crime,’ said Mrs Calvert, ‘for
the due punishment of which the Almighty may be
supposed to subvert the order of nature, it is fratricide.
But tell me, dear friend, did you remark to what the
subtile and hellish villain was endeavouring to prompt
the assassin P ’
‘No, I could not comprehend it. My senses were
altogether so bewildered, that I thought they had com-
bined to deceive me, andI gave them no credit.’
‘Then hear me: I am almost certain he was using
every persuasion to induce him to make away with his
mother; and I likewise conceive that I heard the in-
cendiary give his consent.’
‘This is dreadful. Let us speak and think no more about
it, till we see the issue. In the meantime, let us do that


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 97
which is our bounden duty—go and divulge all that we
know relating to this foul murder.’
Accordingly the two women went to Sir Thomas
Wallace of Cragie, the Lord Justice Clerk (who was, I
think, either uncle or grandfather to young Drummond,
who was outlawed, and obliged to ﬂy his country, on
account of Colwan’s death), and to that gentleman they
related every circumstance of what they had seen and
heard. He examined Calvert very minutely, and seemed
deeply interested in her evidence—said he knew she
was relating the truth, and in testimony of it, brought a
letter of young Drummond’s from his desk, wherein that
young gentleman, after protesting his innocence in the
most forcible terms, confessed having been seen with
such awoman in such a house, after leaving the company
of his friends; and that, on going home, Sir Thomas’s
servant had let-him in, in the dark, and from these cir-
cumstances he found it possible to prove an alibi. He
begged of his relative, if ever an opportunity offered,
to do his endeavour to clear up that mystery, and remove
the horrid stigma from his name in his country, and
among his kin, of having stabbed a friend behind his
back.
Lord Craigie, therefore, directed the two women to the
proper authorities, and, after hearing their evidence there,
it was judged proper to apprehend the present Laird of
Dalcastle, and bring him to his trial. But before that,
they sent the prisoner in the tolbooth, he who had seen
the whole transaction along with Mrs Calvert, to take a
view of Wringhim privately; and his discrimination
being so well-known as to be proverbial all over the
land, they determined secretly to be ruled by his report.
They accordingly sent him on a pretended mission of
G


98 Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner.
legality to Dalcastle, with orders to see and speak with
the proprietor, without giving him a hint what was
wanted. On his return, they examined him, and he told
them that he found all things at the place in utter con-
fusion and dismay; that the lady of the place was missing,
and could not be found, dead or alive. On being asked if he
had ever seen the proprietor before, he looked astounded,
and unwilling to answer. But it came out that he had;
and that he had once seen him kill a man on such a
spot at such an hour.
Ofﬁcers were then dispatched, without delay, to appre-
hend the monster, and bring him to justice. On these
going to the mansion, and inquiring for him, they were
told he was at home ;v on which they stationed guards,
and searched all the premises, but he was not to be
found. It was in vain that they overturned beds, raised
ﬂoors, and broke open closets; Robert Wringhim
Colwan was lost once and for ever. His mother also was
lost; and strong suspicions attached to some of the
farmers and house servants, to whom she was obnoxious,
relating to her disappearance. The Honourable Thomas
Drummond became a distinguished ofﬁcer in the
Austrian service, and died in the memorable year for
Scotland, 1715; and this is all with which history,
justiciary records, and tradition, furnish me relating to
these matters.
I have now the pleasure of presenting my readers with
an original document of a most singular nature, and
preserved for their perusal in a still more singular
manner. I offer no remarks on it, and make as few
additions to it leaving every one to judge for himself.
We have heard much of the rage of fanaticism in former
days, but nothing to this.


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The
Private Memoirs and Confessions
of a
Justiﬁed Sinner.
Written 6y Himself
MY life has been a life of trouble and turmoil; of change
and vicissitude; of anger and exultation; of sorrow and
of vengeance. My sorrows have all been for a slighted
gospel, and my vengeance has been wreaked on its
adversaries. Therefore, in the might of heaven I will sit
down and write : I will let the wicked of this world know
what I have done in the faith of the promises, and
justiﬁcation by grace, that they may read and tremble,
and bless their gods of silver and of gold, that the minister
of heaven was removed from their sphere before their
blood was mingled with their sacriﬁces.
I was born an outcast in the world, in which I was
destined to act so conspicuous a part. My mother was a
burning and a shining light in the community of Scottish
worthies, and in the days of her virginity had suffered
much in the persecution of the saints. But it so pleased
Heaven, that, as a trial of her faith, she was married to
one of the wicked; a man all over spotted with the
leprosy of sin. As well might they have conjoined ﬁre
and water together, in hopes that they would consort and
amalgamate, as purity and corruption : she ﬂed from his
“Er/“'F"


100 The Private Memoirs and
embraces the ﬁrst night after their marriage, and
from that time forth, his iniquities so galled her
upright heart, that she quitted his society altogether,
keeping her own apartments in the same house with
him.
Iwas the second son of this unhappy marriage, and,
long ere ever I was born, my father, according to the
ﬂesh, disclaimed all relation or connexion with me, and
all interest in me, save what the law compelled him to
take, which was to grant me a scanty maintenance ; and
had it not been for a faithful minister of the gospel, my
mother’s early instructor, I should have remained an
outcast from the Church visible. He took pity on me,
admitting me not only into that, but into the bosom of
his own household and ministry also, and to him am I
indebted, under Heaven, for the high conceptions and
glorious discernment between good and evil, right and
wrong, which I attained even at an early age. It was
he who directed my studies aright, both in the learning
of the ancient fathers, and the doctrines of the reformed
Church, and designed me for his assistant and successor
in the holy oﬂice. I missed no opportunity of perfecting
myself particularly in all the minute points of theology
in which my reverend father and mother took great
delight; but at length I acquired so much skill that I
astonished my teachers, and made them gaze at one
another. I remember that it was the custom in my
patron’s house, to ask the questions of the Single
Catechism round every Sabbath night. He asked the
ﬁrst, my mother the second, and so on, every one saying
the question asked, and then asking the next. It fell to
my mother to ask Effectual Calling at me. I said the
answer with propriety and emphasis. ‘Now, madam,


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 101
added I, ‘my question to you is, What is Ineffectual
Calling?’
‘Ineffectual Calling? There is no such thing, Robert,’
said she. ‘
‘ But there is, madam,’ said I ; ‘and that answer proves
how much you say these fundamental precepts by rote,
and without any consideration. Ineffectual Calling is,
the outward call of the gospel without any effect on the
hearts of unregenerated and impenitent sinners. Have
not all these the same calls, warnings, doctrines, and
reproofs, that we have? and is not this Ineffectual
Calling? Has not Ardinferry the same? Has not
Partick M‘Lure the same? Has not the Laird of
Dalcastle and his reprobate heir the same? And will
any tell me, that this is not [neﬂectual Calling? ’
‘What a wonderful boy he is !’ said my mother.
‘I’m feared he turn out to be a conceited gowk,’ said
old Barnet, the minister’s man.
‘No,’ said my pastor, and father (as I shall henceforth
denominate him)-—‘No, Barnet, he is a wonderful boy;
and no marvel, for I have prayed for these talents to be
bestowed on him from his infancy: and do you think
that Heaven would refuse a prayer so disinterested? No,
it is impossible. But my dread is, madam,’ continued he,
turning to my mother, ‘that he is yet in the bond of
iniquity.’
‘ God forbid ! ’ said my mother.
‘I have struggled with the Almighty long and hard,’
continued he; ‘but have as yet had no certain token of
acceptance in his behalf. I have indeed fought a hard
ﬁght, but have been repulsed by him who hath seldom
refused my request; although I cited his own words
against him and endeavoured to hold him at his promise,


102 The Private Memoirs and
he hath so many turnings in the supremacy of his power
that I have been rejected. How dreadful is it to think
of our darling being still without the pale of the
covenant! But I have vowed a vow, and in that there is
hope.’
My heart quaked with terror, when I thought of being
still living in a state of reprobation, subjected to the
awful issues of death, judgment, and eternal misery, by
the slightest accident or casualty, and I set about the
duty of prayer myself with the utmost earnestness. I
prayed three times every day, and seven times on the
Sabbath; but the more frequently and fervently that I
prayed, I sinned still the more. About this time, and
for a long period afterwards, amounting to several years,
I lived in a hopeless and deplorable state of mind, for I
said to myself, ‘If my name is not written in the book of
life from all eternity, it is in vain for me to presume that
either vows or prayers of mine, or those of all mankind
combined, can ever procure its insertion now.’ I had
come under many vows, most solemnly taken, every one
of which I had broken; and I saw with the intensity of
juvenile grief, that there was no hope for me. I went on
sinning every hour, and all the while most strenuously
warring against sin, and repenting of every one trans-
gression, as soon after the commission of it as I got
leisure to think. But oh, what a wretched state this
unregenerated state is, in which every effort only
aggravates our oﬂences! I found it vanity to contend;
for, after communing with my heart, the conclusion was
as follows : ‘If I could repent me of all my sins, and shed
tears of blood for them, still have I not a load of original
transgression pressing on me, that is enough to crush me
to the lowest hell. I may be angry with my ﬁrst parents


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 103
for having sinned, but how I shall repent me of their sin,
is beyond what I am able to comprehend.’
Still, in those days of depravity and corruption, I had
some of those principles implanted in my mind, which
were afterward to spring up with such amazing fertility,
among the heroes of the faith and the promises. In
particular, I felt great indignation against all the wicked
world, and often wished for the means of ridding it of
such a noxious burden.
I liked John Barnet, my reverend father’s serving-man,
extremely ill ; but, from a supposition that he might be
one of the justiﬁed, I refrained from doing him any injury.
He gave always his word against me, and when we were
by ourselves, in the barn or the ﬁelds, he rated me with
such severity for my faults, that my heart could brook it
no longer. He discovered some notorious lies that I had
framed, and taxed me with them in such a manner, that
I could in no wise get off. My cheek burnt with offence
rather than shame; and he, thinking he had got the
mastery of me, exulted over me most unmercifully,
telling me I was a selﬁsh and conceited blackguard, who
made great pretences towards religious devotion to cloak
a disposition tainted with deceit, and that it would not
much astonish him if I brought myself to the gallows.
I gathered some courage from his over severity, and
answered him as follows: ‘Who made thee a judge of
the actions or dispositions of the Almighty’s creatures—
thou who art a worm, and no man in His sight ? How it
beﬁts thee to deal out judgments and anathemas! Hath
He not made one vessel to honour, and another to dis-
honour, as in the case with myself and thee P Hath He not
builded his stories in the heavens, and laid the founda—
tions thereof in the earth, and how can a being like thee


104 The Private Memoirs and
|
judge between good and evil, that are both subjected to
the workings of His hand ; or of the opposing principles
in the soul of man, correcting, modifying, and reﬁning
one another?’
I said this-with a strong display of fervour for which I
was remarkable at my years, and expected old Barnet to
be utterly confounded ; but he only shook his head and
with the most provoking grin said,
‘There he goes ! sickan sublime and ridiculous
sophistry I never heard come out of another mouth
but ane. There needs nae aiths to be sworn afore the
session wha is your father, young goodman. I ne’er
for my part, saw a son sae like a dad, sin my een ﬁrst
opened.’ With that he went away, saying, with an
ill-natured wince, ‘You made to honour and me to
dishonour! Dirty bow-kail thing that thou be’st ! ’
‘I will have the old rascal on the hip for this, if I live,’
thought I. So I went and asked my mother if I ohn was
a righteous man? She could not tell, but supposed he
was, and therefore I got no encouragement from her. I
went next day to my reverend father, and inquired his
opinion, expecting as little from that quarter. He knew
the elect as it were by instinct, and could have told you
of all those in his own, and some neighbouring parishes,
who were born within the boundaries‘of the covenant of
promise, and who were not.
‘I keep a good deal in company with your servant, old
Barnet, father,’ said I.
‘You do, boy ; you do, I see,’ said he.
' I wish I may not keep too much in his company,’ said
I, ‘not knowing what kind of society I am in ;—is John
a good man, father?’
‘Why, boy, he is but so, so. A morally good man


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 105
John is, but very little of the leaven of true righteousness,
which is faith within. I am afraid old Barnet, with all
his stock of morality, will be a cast-away.’
My heart was greatly cheered by this remark; and
I sighed very deeply, and hung my head to one side.
The worthy father observed me- and inquired the cause,
when I answered as follows : ‘ How dreadful the thought,
that I have been going daily in company and fellowship
with one, whose name is written on the red-letter side
of the book of life; whose body and soul have been,
from all eternity, consigned over to everlasting destruc-
tion, and to whom the blood of the atonement can
never, never reach! Father, this is an awful thing, and
beyond my comprehension.’
‘While we are in the world, we must mix with the
inhabitants thereof,’ said he; ‘and the stains which ad-
here to us by reason of this admixture, which is un-
avoidable, shall all be washed away. It is our duty, how-
ever, to shun the society of wicked men as much as
possible, lest we partake of their sins, and become sharers
with them in punishment. John, however, is a morally
good man, and may yet get a cast of grace.’
‘I always thought him a good man till to-day,’ said I
‘ when he threw out some reﬂections on your character,
so horrible that I quake to think of the wickedness and
malevolence of his heart. He was rating me very im-
pertinently for some supposed fault, which had no being
save in his own jealous brain, when I attempted to reason
him out of his belief in the spirit of calm Christian argu-
ment. But how do you think he answered me ? He did
so, sir, by twisting his mouth at me, and remarking that
such sublime and ridiculous sophistry never came out of
another month but one (meaning yours), and that no


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 107
‘Hout na, sir, it’s only bad folks that thinks sae. They
ﬁnd ma bits 0’ gibes come hame to their hearts wi’ a kind
0’ yerk, an’ that gars them wince.’
‘ That saying is ten times worse than the other, John;
it is a manifest insult; it is just telling me to my face,
that you think me a bad man.’
‘A body canna help his thoughts, sir.’
‘N 0, but a man’s thoughts are generally formed from
observation. Now I should like to know, even from the
mouth of a misbeliever, what part of my conduct warrants
such a conclusion P ’
‘Nae particular pairt, sir; I draw a’ my conclusions
frae the haill o’ a man’s character, an’ I’m no that aften
far wrang.’
‘Well, John, and what sort of general character do
you suppose mine to be P ’
‘Yours is a Scripture character, sir, an’ I’ll prove it.’
‘I hope so, John. Well, which of the Scripture
characters do you think approximates nearest to my
own.’
‘Guess, sir, guess. I wish to lead a proof.’
‘ Why, if it be an Old Testament character, I hope it is
Melchizedek, for at all events, you cannot deny there is
one point of resemblance; I, like him, am a preacher of
righteousness. If it be a New Testament character, I
suppose you mean the Apostle of the Gentiles, of whom
I am an unworthy representative.
‘Na, na, sir, better nor that still, an’ fer closer is the
resemblance. When ye bring me to the point, I maun
speak. Ye are the just Pharisee, sir, that gaed up wi’
the poor publican to pray in the Temple; an’ ye’re acting
the very same pairt at this time, an’ saying i’ your
heart, “ God, I thank Thee that I am not as other men are,


108 The Private Memoirs and
an’ in nae way like this poor, misbelieving, unregenerate
sinner, John Barnet I ”’
‘I hope I may say so indeed.’
‘There now, I tauld you how it was! But, d’ye hear,
maister : here stands the poor sinner, John Barnet, your
beadle an’ servant~man, wha wadna change chances wi’
you in the neist world, nor consciences in this, for ten
times a’ that you possess—your justiﬁcation by faith an’
awthegither.’ '
‘You are extremely audacious and impertinent, John;
but the language of reprobation cannot affect me ; I came
only to ask you one question, which I desire you to
answer candidly. Did you ever say to any one that I
was the boy Robert’s natural father ? ’
‘Hout na, sir! Ha, ha, ha! Aih, ﬁe na, sir! I
durstna say that for my life. I doubt the black stool, an’
the sack gown, or maybe the juggs wad hae been my
portion had I said sic a thing as that. Hout, hout, ﬁe,
ﬁe! Unco-like doings they for a Melchizedek or a Saint
Paul!’
‘John, you are a profane old man, and I desire that
you will not presume to break your jests on me. Tell
me, dare you say, or dare you think, that I am the
natural father of that boy?’
‘Ye canna hinder me to think whatever I like, sir, nor
can I hinder mysel.’
‘But did you ever say to any one, that he resembled
me, and fathered himself well enough ? ’
‘I hae said monya time, that he resembled you, sir.
Naebody can mistake that.’
‘But John, there are many natural reasons for such
likenesses, besides that of consanguinity. They depend
much on the thoughts and affections of the mother; and


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 199
it is probable that the mother of this boy, being deserted
by her worthless husband, having turned her thoughts
on me as likely to be her protector, may have caused this
striking resemblance.’
‘Ay, it may be, sir. I coudna say.’
‘I have known a lady, John, who was delivered of a
blackamoor child, merely from the circumstance of
having got a start by the sudden entrance of her negro
servant, and not being able to forget him for several
hours.’
‘It may be, sir; but I ken this—an’ I had been the
laird—I wadna hae ta’en that story in.’
‘So then, John, you positively think, from a casual
likeness, that this boy is my son ? ’
‘Man’s thoughts are vanity, sir ; they come unasked
an’ gang away without a dismissal, an’ he canna help
them. I’m neither gaun to say that I think he’s your
5011', nor that I think he’s no your son : sae ye needna
pose me nae mair about it.’
‘Hear then my determination, John: if you do not
promise to me, in faith and honour, that you never will
say, or insinuate such a thing again in your life, as that
that boy is my natural son, I will take the keys of the
church from you, and dismiss you my service.’
John pulled out the keys, and dashed them on the
gravel at the reverend minister’s feet. ‘There are the
keys 0’ your kirk, sir! I hae never had muckle mense
0’ them sin’ ye entered the door o’t. I hae carried
them this three-an-thretty year, but they hae been
like to burn a hole in my 'pouch sin’ ever they were
turned for your admittance. Tak them again, an’ gie
them to wha you will, and muckle gude may he get 0’
them. Auld John may dee a beggar in a hay barn, or


110 The Private Memoirs and
at the back of a dike, but he sall aye be maister 0’ his
aim thoughts, an’ gie them vent or no, as he likes.’
He left the manse that day, and I rejoiced in the
riddance ; for I disdained to be kept so much under,
by one who was in the bond of iniquity, and of whom
there seemed no hope, as he rejoiced in his frowardness,
and refused to submit to that faithful teacher, his master.
It was about this time that my reverend father preached
a sermon, one sentence of which affected me most dis-
agreeably : it was to the purport, that every unrepented
sin was productive of a new sin with each breath that a
man drew; and every one of these new sins added to the
catalogue in the same manner. I was utterly confounded
at the multitude of my transgressions; for I was sensible
that there were great numbers of sins of which I had never
been able thoroughly to repent, and these momentary
ones, by a moderate calculation, had, I saw long ago,
amounted to a hundred and ﬁfty thousand in the minute,
and I saw no end to the series of repentances to which I
had subjected myself. A lifetime was nothing to enable
me to accomplish the sum, and then being, for anything
I was certain of, in my state of nature, and the grace of
repentance withheld from me—what was I to do, or what
was to become of me? In the meantime, I went on
sinning without measure; but I was still more troubled
about the multitude than the magnitude of my trans-
gressions, and the small minute ones puzzled me more
than those that were more heinous, as the latter had
generally some good effects in the way of punishing
wicked men, froward boys, and deceitful women; and I
rejoiced even then in my early youth, at being used as a
scourge in the hand of the Lord; another Jehu, a Cyrus,
or a Nebuchadnezzar.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. III
On the whole, I remember that I got into great
confusion relating to my sins and repentances, and
knew neither where to begin or how to proceed, and
often had great fears that I was wholly without Christ,
and that I would ﬁnd God a consuming ﬁre to me. I
could not help running into new sins continually; but
then I was mercifully dealt with, for I was often made
to repent of them most heartily, by reason of bodily
chastisement received on these delinquencies being
discovered. I was particularly prone to lying, and I
cannot but admire the mercy that has freely forgiven
me all these juvenile sins. Now that I know them all
to be blotted out and that I am an accepted person,
I maythe more freely confess them ; the truth is, that
one lie always paved the way for another, from hour to
hour, from day to day, and from year to year ; so that
I found myself constantly involved in a labyrinth of
deceit, from which it was impossible to extricate myself.
If I knew a person to be a godly one, I could almost
have kissed his feet; but against the carnal portion of
mankind, I set my face continually. I esteemed the
true ministers of the gospel; but the prelatic party,
and the preachers up of good works I abhorred, and to
this hour I account them the worst and most heinous
of all transgressors.
There was only one boy at Mr Wilson’s class who kept
always the upper hand of me in every part of education.
I strove against him from year to year, but it was all in
vain; for he was a very wicked boy; and I was con-
vinced he had dealings with the devil. Indeed, it was
believed all over the country that his mother was a
witch; and I was at length convinced that it was no
human ingenuity that beat me with so much ease in the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 113
before I made myself so much master of the outline,
that I could have drawn it in any situation what-
ever, almost off-hand. I then took M‘Gill’s account
book of algebra home with me, and at my leisure put
down a number of gross caricatures of Mr Wilson here
and there, several of them in situations notoriously ludi-
crous. I waited the discovery of this treasure with
great impatience ; but the book chancing to be one that
M‘Gill was not using, I saw it might be long enough
before I enjoyed the consummation of my grand scheme ;
therefore with all the ingenuity I was master of, I
brought it before our dominie’s eye. But never shall I
forget the rage that! gleamed in the tyrant’s phiz! I was
actually.terriﬁed to look at him, and trembled at his
voice. M‘Gill was called upon, and examined relating
to the obnoxious ﬁgures. He denied ﬂatly that any of
them were of his doing. But the master inquiring at
him whose they were, he could not tell, but afﬁrmed
it to be some trick. Mr Wilson at one time began, as I
thought, to hesitate; but the evidence was so strong
against M‘Gill, that at length his solemn asseverations
of innocence only proved an aggravation of his crime.
There was not one in the school who had ever been
known to draw a ﬁgure but himself, and on him fell the
whole weight of the tyrant’s vengeance. It was dreadful;
and I was once in hopes that he would not leave life in
the culprit. He, however, left the school for several
months, refusing to return to be subjected to punishment
for the faults of others, and I stood king of the class.
Matters were at last made up between M‘Gill’s parents
and the schoolmaster; but by that time I had got the
start of him, and never in my life did I exert myself so
much to keep the mastery. It was in vain; the powers
H


114 The Private Memoirs and
of enchantment prevailed, and I was again turned d0wn
with the tear in my eye. I could think of no amends
but one, and being driven to desperation, I put it in
practice. I told a lie of him. I came boldly up to the
master, and told him that M‘Gill had in my hearing
cursed him in a most shocking manner, and called him
Vile names. He called M‘Gill and charged him with the
crime, and the proud young coxcomb was so stunned at
the' atrocity of the charge, that his face grew as red as
crimson, and the words stuck in his throat as he feebly
denied it. His guilt was manifest, and he was again
ﬂogged most nobly, and dismissed the school for ever in
disgrace, as a most incorrigible vagabond.
This was a great victory gained, and I rejoiced and
exulted exceedingly in it. It had, however, very nigh cost
me my life; for not long thereafter I encountered M‘Gill
in the ﬁelds, on which he came up and challenged me for
a liar, daring me to ﬁght him. I refused, and said that I
looked on him as quite below my notice; but he would
not quit me, and ﬁnally told me that he should either
lick me, or I should lick him, as he had no other means
of being revenged on such a scoundrel. I tried to
intimidate him, but it would not do; and I believe I
would have given all that I had in the world to he quit
of him. He at length went so far as ﬁrst to kick me, and'
then strike me on the face; and, being both older and
stronger than he, I thought it scarcely became me to take
such insults patiently. I was, nevertheless, well aware
that the devilish powers of his mother would ﬁnally pre-
vail; and either the dread of this, or the inward con-
sciousness, of having wronged him, certainly unnerved
my arm, for I fought wretchedly, and was soon wholly
overcome. I was so sore defeated that I kneeled; and


120 The Private Memoirs and
passed over—when my ﬂesh and bones are decayed, and
my soul has passed to its everlasting home, then shall
the sons of men ponder on the events of my life ; wonder
and tremble, and tremble and wonder how such things
should be.
That stranger youth and I approached other in silence,
and slowly, with our eyes ﬁxed on each other’s eyes.
We approached till not more than a yard intervened
between us, and then stood still and gazed, measuring
each other from head to foot. What was my astonish-
ment on perceiving that he was the same being as myself!
The clothes were the same to the smallest item. The
form was the same ; the apparent age ; the colour of the
hair; the eyes; and, as far as recollection could serve
me from viewing my own features in a glass, the features
too were the very same. I conceived at ﬁrst that I saw
a vision, and that my guardian angel had appeared to me
at this important era of my life ; but this singular being
read my thoughts in my looks, anticipating the very
words that I was going to utter.
‘You think I am your brother,’ said he ; ‘ or that I am
your second self. I am indeed. your brother, not accord-
ing to the ﬂesh, but in my belief of the same truths, and
my assurance in the same mode of redemption, than
which, I hold nothing so great or so glorious on earth.’
‘Then you are an associate well adapted to my present
state,’ said I. ‘For this time is a time of great rejoicing
in spirit to me. I am on my way to return thanks to
the Most High for my redemption from the bonds of sin
and misery. If you will join with me heart and hand
in youthful thanksgiving, then shall we two go and
worship together, but if not, go your way, and I shall go
mine.’


122 ' The Private Memoirs and
ever falling away, who were once accepted and received
into covenant with God, for he seemed to know, that in
that conﬁdence and that trust, my whole hopes were
centred.
We moved about from one place to another, until the
day was wholly spent. My mind had all the while been
kept in a state of agitation resembling the motion of a
whirlpool, and when we came to separate, I then dis-
covered that the purpose for which I had sought the
ﬁelds had been neglected, and that I had been diverted
from the worship of God, by attending to the quibbles
and dogmas of this singular and unaccountable being,
who seemed to have more knowledge and information
than all the persons I had ever known put together.
We parted with expressions of mutual regret, and
when I left him I felt a deliverance, but at the same
time, a certain consciousness that I was not thus to get
free of him, but that he was like to be an acquaintance
that was to stick to me for good or for evil. I was
astonished at his acuteness and knowledge about every-
thing; but as for his likeness to me, that was quite
unaccountable. He was the same person in every respect,
but yet he was not always so; for I observed several
times, when we were speaking of certain divines and their
tenets, that his face assumed something of the appearance
of theirs; and it struck me, that by setting his features
to the mould of other people’s, he entered at once into
their conceptions and feelings. I had been greatly
ﬂattered and greatly interested by his conversation;
whether I had been the better for it or the worse, I could
not tell. I had been diverted from returning thanks to
my gracious Maker for His great kindness to me, and
came home as I went away, but not with the same


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 12 3
buoyancy and lightness of heart. Well may I remember
that day in which I was ﬁrst received into the number,
and made an heir to all the privileges of the children of
God, and on which I ﬁrst met this mysterious associate,
who from that day forth, contrived to wind himself into
all my affairs, both spiritual and temporal, to this day on
which I am writing the account of it. It was on the
25th day of March, 1704, when I had just entered the
eighteenth year of my age. Whether it behoves me to
bless God for the events of that day, or to deplore them,
has been hid from my discernment, though I have
inquired into it with fear and trembling; and I have now
lost all hopes of ever discovering the true import of these
events until that day when my accounts are to make up
and reckon for in another world.
When I came home, I went straight into the parlour,
where my mother was sitting by herself. She started to
her feet, and uttered a smothered scream. ‘What ails
you, Robert?’ cried she. ‘My dear son, what is the
matter with you ? ’
‘Do you see anything the matter with me?’ said I.
‘It appears that the ailment is with yourself, and either
in your crazed head or your dim eyes, for there is nothing
the matter with me.’
‘Ah, Robert, you are ill,’ cried she ; ‘you are very ill,
my dear boy; you are quite changed; your very voice
and manner are changed. Ah, Jane, haste you up to
the study, and tell Mr Wringhim to come here on the
instant and speak to Robert.’
‘I beseech you, woman, to restrain yourself,’ said I.
‘If you suffer your frenzy to run away with your
judgment in this manner, I will leave thelhouse. What


124 The Private Memoirs and
do you mean? I tell you, there is nothing ails me: I
never was better.’
She screamed, and ran between me and the door, to
bar my retreat: in the meantime my reverend father
entered, and I have not forgot how he gazed, through his
glasses, ﬁrst at my mother, and then‘at me. I imagined
that his eyes burnt like candles, and was afraid of him,
which I suppose made my looks more unstable than they
would otherwise have been.
‘What is all this for?’ said he. ‘Mistress! Robert!
What is the matter here?’
‘Oh, sir, our boy ! ’ cried my mother; ‘our dear boy,
Mr Wringhim! Look at him, and speak to hidg‘;qhe is
either dying or translated, sir I ’ i i ,»
He looked at me with a countenance of great alarm;
mumbling some sentences to himself, and then taking me
by the arm, as if to feel my pulse, he said, with a faltering
voice, ‘Something has indeed befallen you, either in body
or mind, boy, for you are so transformed since the morn-
ing, that I could not have known you for the same
person. Have yOu met with any accident?’
‘No.’
‘ Have you seen anything out of the ordinary course of
nature ? ’
‘No.’
‘Then, Satan, I fear, has been busy with you, tempting
you in no ordinary degree at this momentous crisis of
your life ? ’
My mind turned on my associate for the day, and the
idea that he might be an agent of the devil, had such an
effect on me, that I could make no answer.
‘I see how it is,’ said he; ‘you are troubled in spirit,
and I have no doubt that the enemy of our salvation has


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 125
been busy with you. Tell me this, has he overcome you,
or has he not ?’
‘He has not, my dear father,’ said I. ‘In the strength
of the Lord, I hope I have withstood him. But indeed,
if he has been busy with me, I knew it not. I have
been conversant this day with one stranger only, whom
I took rather for an angel of light.’
‘It is one of the devil’s most profound wiles to appear
like one,’ said my mother.
‘Woman, hold thy peace!’ said my reverend father:
‘thou pretendest to teach what thou knowest not. Tell
me this, boy. Did this stranger, with whom you met,
adhere to the religious principles in which I have edu-
cated you P ’
‘Yes, to every one of them, in their fullest latitude,’
said I.
‘Then he was no agent of the wicked one with whom
you held converse,’ said he; ‘for that is the doctrine that
was made to overturn the principalities and powers, the
might and dominion of the kingdom of darkness. Let
us pray.’
After spending about a quarter of an hour in solemn
and sublime thanksgiving, this saintly man and minister
of Jesus Christ, gave out that the day following should
be kept by the family as a day of solemn thanksgiving,
and spent in prayer and praise, on account of the calling
and election of one of its members; or rather for the
election of that individual being revealed on earth, as
well as conﬁrmed in heaven.
The next day was with me a day of holy exultation.
' It was begun by my reverend father laying his hands
upon my head and blessing me, and then dedicating me
to the Lord in the most awful and impressive manner.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. _ 127
those whom their Maker had, by an unchangeable decree,
doomed to destruction. I could not disbelieve the doc-
trine which the best of men had taught me, and towards
which he made the whole of the Scriptures to bear, and
yet it made the economy of the Christian world appear to
me as an absolute contradiction. How much more wise.
would it be, thought I, to begin and cut sinners off with
the sword! for till that is effected, the saints can never
inherit the earth in peace. Should I be honoured as an
instrument to begin this great work of puriﬁcation, I
should rejoice in it. But then, where had I the means.
or under what direction was I to begin? There was one
thing clear, I was now the Lord’s, and it behoved me to
bestir myself in His service. 0 that I had an host at my
command, then would I be as a devouring ﬁre among the
workers of iniquity !
Full of these great ideas, I hurried through the city
and sought again the private path through the ﬁeld and
wood of F innieston, in which my reverend preceptor had
the privilege of walking for study, and to which he had a
key that was always at my command. Near one of the
stiles, I perceived a young man sitting in a devout
posture, reading a Bible. He rose, lifted his hat, and
made an obeisance to me, which I returned and walked
on. I had not we]! crossed the stile, till it struck me I
knew the face of the youth, and that he was some
intimate acquaintance, to whom I ought to have spoken.
I walked on, and returned, and walked on again, trying
to recollect who he was; but for my life I could not.
There was, however, a fascination in his look and
manner, that drew me back towards him in spite of
myself, and I resolved to go to him, if it were merely to
speak and see who he was.


128 The Private Memoirs and
I came up to him and addressed him, but he was so
intent on his book, that, though I spoke, he lifted not
his eyes. I looked on the book also, and still it seemed
a Bible, having columns, chapters, and verses; but it was
in a language of which I was wholly ignorant, and all
intersected with red lines and verses. A sensation
resembling a stroke of electricity came over me, on ﬁrst
casting my eyes on that mysterious book, and I stood
motionless. He looked up, smiled, closed his book, and
put it in his bosom. ‘You seem strangely affected, dear
sir, by looking on my book,’ said he mildly.
‘In the name of God what book is that?’ said I: ‘is
it a Bible? ’ "
‘It is my Bible, sir,’ said he; ‘but I will cease reading
it, for I am glad to see you. Pray, is not this a day of
holy festivity with you?’
I stared in his face, but made no answer, for my senses
were bewildered.
‘ Do you not know me? ’ said he. ‘You appear to be
somehow at a loss. Had not you and I some sweet
communion and fellowship yesterday? ’
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said I. ‘But surely if you are
the young gentleman with whom I spent the hours
yesterday, you have the chameleon art of changing your
appearance; I never could have recognised you.’
‘My countenance changes with my studies and sensa-
tions,’ said he. ‘It is a natural peculiarity in me, over
which I have not full control. If I contemplate a man’s
features seriously, mine own gradually assume the very
, same appearance and character. And what is more, by
contemplating a face minutely, I not only attain the
same likeness, but, with the likeness, I attain the very
same ideas as well as the same mode of arranging them,


130 The Private Memoirs and
mind, were the infallibility of the elect, and the pre-
ordination of all things that come to pass. I pretended
to controvert the ﬁrst of these, for the purpose of show-
ing him the extent of my argumentative powers, and
said, that, ‘Indubitably there were degrees of sinning
which would induce the Almighty to throw off the very
elect.’ But behold my hitherto humble and modest com-
panion took up the argument with such warmth, that he
put me not only to silence, but to absolute shame.
‘Why, sir,’ said he, ‘by vending such an insinuation,
you put discredit on the great atonement, in which you
trust. Is there not enough of merit in the blood of
Jesus to save thousands of worlds, if it was for these
worlds that He died? Now, when you know as you do
(and as every one of the elect may know of himself), that
this Saviour died for you, namely and particularly, dare
you say that there is not enough of merit in His great
atonement to annihilate all your sins, let them be as
heinous and atrocious as they may? And, moreover, do
you not acknowledge that God hath pre-ordained and
decreed whatsoever comes to pass? Then, how is it that
you should deem it in your power to eschew one action of
your life, whether good or evil? Depend on it, the
advice of the great preacher is genuine: “What thy
hand ﬁndeth to do, do it with all thy might, for none of
us know what a day may bring forth? ” That is, none of
us know what is pre-ordained, but whatever is pre-
ordained we must do, and none of these things will be
laid to our charge.’
I could hardly believe that these sayings were genuine
or orthodox; but I soon felt, that, instead of being a humble
disciple of mine, this new acquaintance was to be my
guide and director, and all under the humble guise of one


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 131
stooping at my feet to learn the right. He said that he
saw I was ordained to perform some great action for the
cause of Jesus and His Church, and he earnestly coveted
being a partaker with me; but he besought of me never
to think it possible for me to fall from the truth, or the
favour of Him who had chosen me, else that misbelief
would baulk every good work to which I set my face.
There was something so ﬂattering in all this, that
I could not resist it. Still, when he took leave of
me, I felt it as a great relief; and yet, before the
morrow, I wearied and was impatient to see him again.
We carried on our fellowship from day to day, and all
the while I knew not who he was, and still my mother
and reverend father kept insisting that I was an altered
youth, changed in my appearance, my manners, and my
whole conduct; yet something always prevented me from
telling them more about my new acquaintance than I
had done on the ﬁrst day we met. I rejoiced in him,
was proud of him, and soon could not live without him;
yet, though resolved every day to disclose the whole
history of my connection with him, I had it not in my
power : something always prevented me, till at length I
thought no more of it, but resolved to enjoy his
fascinating company in private, and by all means to keep
my own with him. The resolution was vain: I set a
bold face to it, but my powers were inadequate to the
task; my adherent, with all the suavity imaginable, was
sure to carry his point. ‘I sometimes fumed, and some-
times shed tears at being obliged to yield to proposals
against which I had at ﬁrst felt every reasoning power
of my soul rise in opposition; but, for all that, he never
failed in carrying conviction along with him in effect, for
be either forced me to acquiesce in his measures, and


I 32 The Private Memoirs and
assent to the truth of his positions, or he put me so
completely down, that I had not a word left to advance
against them.
After weeks, I may say months of intimacy, I observed,
somewhat to my amazement, that we had never once
prayed together; and more than that, that he had
constantly led my attentions away from that duty,
causing me to neglect it wholly. I thought this a bad
mark of a man seemingly so much set on inculcating
certain important points of religion, and resolved next
day to put him to the test, and request of him to perform
that sacred duty in name of us- both. He objected '
boldly; saying there were very few people indeed with
whom he could join in prayer, and he made a point
of never doing it, as he was sure they were to ask many
things of which he disapproved, and that if he were to
ofﬁciate himself, he was as certain to allude to many
things that came not within the range of their faith.
He disapproved of prayer altogether in the manner it
was generally gone about, he said. Man made it-merely
a selﬁsh concem, and was constantly employed asking,
asking, for everything. Whereas it became all God’s
creatures to be content with their lot, and only to kneel
before Him in order to thank Him for such beneﬁts as
He saw meet to bestow. In short, he argued with such
energy, that before we parted I acquiesced, as usual, in
his position, and never mentioned prayer to him any
more.
Having been so frequently seen in his company, several
people happened to mention the circumstance to my
mother and reverend father; but at the same time had
all described him differently. At length they began to
examine me with respect to the company I kept, as I


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 133
absented myself from home day after day. I told them I
kept company only with one young gentleman, whose
whole manner of thinking on religious subjects, I found
so congenial with my own, that I could not live out of his
society. My mother began to lay down some of her old
hackneyed rules of faith, but I turned from hearing her
with disgust; for, after the energy of my new friend’s
reasoning, hers appeared so tame I could not endure it.
And I confess with shame, that my reverend preceptor’s
religious dissertations began, about this time, to lose their
relish very much, and by degrees became. exceedingly
tiresome to my ear. They were so inferior, in strength
and sublimity, to the most common observations of my
young friend,-;that in drawing a comparison the former
appeared as nothing. He, however, examined me about
many things relating to my companion, in all of which I
satisﬁed him, save in one : I could neither tell him who
my friend was, what was his name, nor of whom he was
descended; and I wondered at myself how I had never
once adverted to such a thing, for all the time we had
been intimate.
I inquired the next day what his name was; as I
said I was often at a loss for it, when talking with him.
He replied, that there was no occasion for any one
friend ever naming another, when their society was held
in private, as ours was ; for his part he had never once
named__me since we ﬁrst met, and never intended to
do so, unless by my own request. ‘But if you cannot
converse without naming me, you may call me Gil for
the present,’ added he; ‘and if I think proper to take
another nameat any future period, it shall be with your
approbation.’
‘Gil!’ said I; ‘have you no name but Gil? Or


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 135
out of all the rest in Scotland, and even pretended
to learn. the great truths of religion from my mouth.
From that time I felt disposed to yield to such a great
prince’s suggestions without hesitation.
Nothing ever astonished me so much, as the uncommon
powers with which he seemed invested. In our walk one
day, we met with a Mr Blanchard, who was reckoned a
worthy, pious divine, but quite of the moral cast, who
joined us; and we three walked on, and rested together
in the ﬁelds. My companion did not seem to like him,
but, nevertheless, regarded him frequently with deep
attention, and there were several times, while he seemed
contemplating him, and trying to ﬁnd out his thoughts,
that his face became so like Mr Blanchard’s, that it was
impossible to have distinguished the one from the other.
The antipathy between the two was mutual, and dis-
covered itself quite palpably in a short time. When my
companion the prince was gone, Mr Blanchard asked me
anent him, and I told him that he was a stranger in the
city, but a very uncommon and great personage. Mr
Blanchard’s answer to me was as follows: ‘ I never saw
anybody I disliked so much in my life, Mr Robert; and
if it be true that he is a stranger here, which I doubt,
believe me he is come for no good.’
‘ Do you not perceive what mighty powers of mind he
is possessed of?’ said I, ‘and also, how clear and un-
hesitating he is on some of the most interesting points of
divinity ? ’
‘It is for his great mental faculties that I dread him,’
said he. ‘It is incalculable what evil such a person as he
may do, if so disposed. There is a sublimity in his ideas,
with which there is to me a mixture of terror; and
when he talks of religion, he does it as one that rather


I 36 The Private Memoirs and
dreads its truths than reverences them. He, indeed,
pretends great strictness of orthodoxy regarding some of
the points of doctrine embraced by the reformed church;
but you do not seem to perceive, that both you and he
are carrrying these points to a dangerous extremity.
Religion is a sublime and glorious thing, the bond of
society on earth, and the connector of humanity with
the Divine nature; but there is nothing so dangerous
to man as the wresting of any of its principles, or
forcing them beyond their due bounds: this is of all
others the readiest way to destruction. Neither is
there anything so easily done. There is not an error
into which a man can fall, which he may not press
Scripture into his service as proof of the probity of,
and though your boasted theologian shunned the full
discussion of the subject before me, while you pressed it,
I can easily see that both you and he are carrying your
ideas of absolute predestination, and its concomitant
appendages, to an extent that overthrows all religion
and revelation together; or, at least, jumbles them into a
chaos, out of which human capacity can never select
what is good. Believe me, Mr Robert, the less you
associate with that illustrious stranger the better, for
it appears to me that your creed and his carries dam-
nation on the very front of it.’
I was rather stunned at this; but I pretended to
smile with disdain, and said, it did not become youth
to control age; and, as I knew our principles differed
fundamentally, it behoved us to drop the subject. He,
however, would not drop it, but took both my principles
and me fearfully to task, for Blanchard was an eloquent
and powerful-minded old man; and, before we parted,


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. I37
I believe I promised to drop my new acquaintance, and
was all but resolved to do it.
As well might I have laid my account with shunning
the light of day. He was constant to me as my shadow,
and by degrees he acquired such an ascendency over me,
that I never was happy out of his company, nor greatly
so in it. When I repeated to him all that Mr Blanchard
had said, his countenance kindled with indignation and
rage; and then by degrees his eyes sunk inward, his
brow lowered, so that I was awed, and withdrew my eyes
from looking at him. A while afterwards, as I was
addressing him, I chanced to look him again in the face,
and the sight of him made me start violently. He had
made himself so like Mr Blanchard, that I actually
believed I had been addressing that gentleman, and that
I had done so in some absence of mind that I could not
account for. Instead of being amused at the quandary I
was in, he seemed offended : indeed, he never was truly
amused with anything. And he then asked me sullenly,
if I conceived such personages as he to have no other
endowments than common mortals !
I said I never conceived that princes or potentates had
any greater share of endowments than other men, and
frequently not so much. He shook his head, and bade
me think over the subject again; and there was an end
of it. I certainly felt every day the more disposed to
acknowledge such a superiority in him, and from all that
I could gather, I had now no doubt that he was Peter of
Russia. Everything combined to warrant the supposi-
tion, and, of course, I resolved to act in conformity with
the discovery I had made.
For several days the subject of Mr Blanchard’s doubts
and doctrines formed the theme of our discourse. My


I 38 The Private Memoirs and
friend deprecated them most devoutly; and then again
he would deplore them, and lament the great evil that
such a man might do among the human race. I joined
with him in allowing the evil in its fullest latitude ; and,
at length, after he thought he had fully prepared my
nature for such a trial of its powers and abilities, he
proposed calmly that we two should make away with Mr
Blanchard. I was so shocked, that my bosom became as
it were a void, and the beatings of my heart sounded loud
and hollow in it; my breath cut, and my tongue and
palate became dry and speechless. He mocked at my
cowardice, and began a-reasoning on the matter with
such powerful eloquence, that before we parted, I felt
fully convinced that it was my bounden duty to slay Mr
Blanchard; but my will was far, very far from consenting
to the deed.
I spent the following night without sleep, or nearly so;
and the next morning, by the time the sun rose, I was
again abroad, and in the company of my illustrious
friend. The same subject was resumed, and again he
reasoned to the following purportz—That supposing me
placed at the head of an army of Christian soldiers, all
bent on putting down the enemies of the Church, would
I have any hesitation in destroying and rooting out
these enemies ?--None surely.—Well then, when I saw
and was convinced, that here was an individual who was
doing more detriment to the Church of Christ on earth,
than tens of thousands of such warriors were capable of
doing, was it not my duty to cut him off and save the
elect? ‘He, who would be a champion in the cause of
Christ and his Church, my brave young friend,’ added
he, ‘must begin early, and no man can calculate to what
an illustrious eminence small beginnings may lead. If


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 139
the man Blanchard is viorthy, he is only changing his
situation for a better one; and if unworthy, it is better
that one fall, than that a thousand souls perish. Let us
be up and doing in our vocations. For me, my resolu-
tion is taken; I have but one great aim in this world,
and I never for a moment lose sight of it.’
I was obliged to admit the force of his reasoning ; for
though I cannot from memory repeat his words, his
eloquence was of that overpowering nature, that the
subtility of other men sunk before it; and there is also
little doubt that the assurance I had that these words
were spoken by a great potentate, who could raise me to
the highest eminence (provided that I entered into his
extensive and decisive measures), assisted mightily in dis-
pelling my youthful scruples and qualms of conscience;
and I thought moreover, that having such a powerful
back friend to support me, I hardly needed to be afraid
of the consequences I consented! But begged a little
time to think of it. He said the less one thought of a
duty the better ; and we parted.
But the most singular instance of this wonderful man’s
power over my mind was, that he had as complete inﬂu-
ence over me by night as by day. All my dreams corres-
pond exactly with his suggestions; and when he was
absent from me, still his arguments sunk deeper in my
heart than even when he was present. I dreamed that
night of a great triumph obtained, and though the whole
scene was but dimly and confusedly deﬁned in my vision,
yet the overthrow and death of Mr Blanchard was the
ﬁrst step by which I attained the eminent station I
occupied. Thus, by dreaming of the event by night, and
discoursing of it by day, it soon became so familiar to
my mind, that I almost conceived it as done. It was


140 The Private Memoirs am
resolved on; which was the ﬁrst and greatest victory
gained ; for there was no difﬁculty in ﬁnding opportuni-
ties enow of cutting off a man, who, every good day, was
to be found walking by himself in private grounds. I
went and heard him preach for two days, and in fact I
held his tenets scarcely short of blasphemy; they were
such as I had never heard before, and his congregation,
which was numerous, were turning up their ears, and
drinking in his doctrines with the utmost delight ; for O,
they suited their carnal natures and self-sufﬁciency to a
hair! He was actually holding it forth as a fact, that,
‘It was every man’s own blame if he was not saved?’
What horrible misconstruction! And then he was
alleging, and trying to prove from nature and reason
that no man ever was guilty of a sinful action, who
might not have declined it had he so chosen ! ‘Wretched
controvertist!’ thought I to myself a hundred times,
‘shall not the sword of the Lord be moved from its place
of peace for such presumptuous and absurd testimonies as
these !’
When I began to tell the prince about these false
doctrines, to my astonishment I found that he had been
in the church himself, and had every argument that the
old divine had used verbatim ,- and he remarked on them
with great concern, that these were not the tenets that
corresponded with his views in society, and that he had
agents in every city, and every land, exerting their
powers to put them down. I asked, with great simplicity,
‘Are all your subjects Christians, prince? ’
‘All my European subjects are, or deem themselves so,’
returned he; ‘and they are the most faithful and true
subjects I have.’
Who could doubt, after this, that he was the Czar of


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. ' 141
Russia? I have nevertheless had reasons to doubt of his
identity since that period, and which of my conjectures
is right I believe the God of heaven only knows, for I do
not. I shall go on to write such things as I remember,
and if any one shall ever take the trouble to read over
these confessions, such a one will judge for himself. It
will be observed, that ever since I fell in with this
extraordinary person, I have written about him only, and
I must continue to do so to the end of this memoir, as I
have performed no great or interesting action in which
he had not a principal share.
He came to me one day and said, ‘We must not
linger thus in executing what we have resolved on. We
have much before our hands to perform for the beneﬁt
of mankind, both civil as well as religious. Let us do
what we have to do here, and then we must wend our
way to other cities, and perhaps to other countries. Mr
Blanchard is to hold forth in the high church of Paisley
on Sunday next, on some particularly great occasion:
this must be defeated; he must not go there. As he
will be busy arranging his discourses, we may expect him
to be walking by himself in Finnieston Dell the greater
part of Friday and Saturday. Let us go and cut him off.
What is the life of a man more than the life of a lamb, or
any guiltless animal? It is not half so much, especially
when we consider the immensity of the mischief this
old fellow is working among our fellow-creatures. Can
there be any doubt that it is the duty of one consecrated
to God, to cut off such a mildew P’
‘I fear me, great sovereign,’ said I, ‘that your ideas
of retribution are too sanguine, and too arbitrary for
the laws of this country. I dispute not that your


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 147
to meet the men, apparently with a pistol in every hand,
waving in a careless manner. They seemed not quite
clear of meeting with him, and so he went straight on,
and passed between them. They looked after him, and
came onward ; but when they came to the old man lying
stretched in his blood, then they turned and pursued my
companion, though not so quickly as they might have
done ; and I understood that from the ﬁrst they saw no
more of him.
Great was the confusion that day in Glasgow. The
most popular of all their peachers of morality was (what
they called) murdered in cold blood, and a strict and
extensive search was made for the assassin. Neither of
the accomplices was found, however, that is certain, nor
was either of them so much as suspected; but another
man was apprehended under circumstances that war-
ranted suspicion.—This was one of the things that I
witnessed in my life, which I never understood, and it
surely was one of my patron’s most dexterous tricks, for
I must still say, what I have thought from the beginning,
that like him there never was a man created. The
young man who was taken up was a preacher; and it
was proved that he had purchased ﬁre-arms in town, and
gone out with them that morning. But the far greatest
mystery of the whole was, that two of the men, out of
the three who met my companion, swore, that that
unfortunate preacher was the man whom they met with
a pistol in each hand, fresh from the death of the old
divine. The poor fellow made a confused speech him-
self, which there is not the least doubt was quite true;
but it was laughed to scorn, and an expression of horror
ran through both the hearers and jury. I heard the
whole trial, and so did Gil-Martin; but we left the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. I49
obliged, however, to walk circumspectly, and saw my
companion the prince very seldom, who was prowling
about every day, quite unconcerned about his safety.
He was every day a new man, however, and needed not
to be alarmed at any danger; for such a facility had he
in disguising himself, that if it had not been-for a pass-
word which we had between us, for the purposes of
recognition, I never could have known him myself.
It so happened that my reverend father was called to
Edinburgh about this time, to assist with his counsel in
settling the national affairs. At my earnest request I
was permitted to accompany him, at which both my
associate and I rejoiced, as we were now about to move
in a new and extensive ﬁeld. All this time I never
knew where my illustrious friend resided. He never
once invited me to call on him at his lodgings, nor did
he ever come to our house, which made me, sometimes
to suspect, that if any of our great efforts in the cause of
true religion were discovered he intended leaving me in
the lurch. Consequently, when we met in Edinburgh
(for we travelled not in company) I proposed to go with
him to look for lodgings, telling him at the same time
what a blessed and religious family my reverend in-
structor and I were settled in. He said he rejoiced at it,
but he made a rule of never lodging in any particular
house, but took these daily, or hourly, as he found it
convenient, and that he never was at a loss in any
circumstance.
‘What a mighty trouble you put yourself to, great
sovereign!’ said I, ‘and all, it would appear, for the
purpose of seeing and knowing more and more of the
human race.’
‘I never go but where I have some great purpose to


150 The Private Memoirs and
serve,’ returned he, ‘either in the advancement of my
own power and dominion, or in thwarting my enemies.’
‘With all due deference to your great comprehension,
my illustrious friend,’ said I, ‘it strikes me that you can
accomplish very little either the one way or the other
here, in the humble and private capacity you are pleased
to occupy.’
‘It is your own innate modesty that prompts such a
remark,’ said he. ‘Do you think the gaining of you to
my service, is not an attainment worthy of being envied
by the greatest potentate in Christendom? Before I had
missed such a prize as the attainment of your services, I
would have travelled over one half of the habitable
globe.’—I bowed with great humility, but at the same
time how could I but feel proud and highly ﬂattered?
He continued. ‘Believe me, my dear friend, for such a
prize I account no effort too high. For a man who is not
only dedicated to the King of Heaven, in the most solemn
manner, soul, body, and spirit, but also chosen of Him
from the beginning, justiﬁed, sanctiﬁed, and received into
a communion that never shall be broken, and from which
no act of his shall ever remove him—the possession of
such a man, I tell you, is worth kingdoms; because every
deed that he performs, he does it with perfect safety to
himself and honour to me.’—I bowed again, lifting my
hat, and he went on.—‘I am now going to put his
courage in the cause he has espoused, to a severe test—to
a trial at which common nature would revolt, but he
who is dedicated to be the sword of the Lord, must raise
himself above common humanity. You have a father
and a brother according to the ﬂesh, what do you know
of them ? ’
‘I am sorry to say I know nothing good,’ said I.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 153
with great fervor of spirit, as well as humility; and my
satisfaction at ﬁnding all my requests granted is not to
be expressed. ,
My illustrious friend still continuing to sound in my
ears the imperious duty to which I was called, of making
away with my sinful relations, and quoting many parallel
actions out of the Scriptures, and the writings of the
holy Fathers, of the pleasure the Lord took in such as
executed His vengeance on the wicked, I was obliged to
acquiesce in his measures, though with certain limitations.
It was not easy to answer his arguments, and yet I was
afraid that he soon perceived a leaning to his will on my
part. ‘If the acts of Jehu, in rooting out the whole
house of his master, were ordered and approved of by
the Lord,’ said he, ‘would it not have been more praise-
worthy if one of Ahab’s own sons had stood up for the
cause of the God of Israel, and rooted out the sinners and
their idols out of the land?’
‘It would certainly,’ said I. ‘To our duty to God all
other duties must yield.’
‘Go thou then and do likewise,’ said he. ‘Thou art
called to a high vocation; to cleanse the sanctuary of thy
God in this thy native land by the shedding of blood;
go thou forth then like a ruling energy, a master spirit of
desolation in the dwellings of the wicked, and high shall
be your reward both here and hereafter.’
My heart now panted with eagerness to look my
brother in the face: on which my companion, who was
never out of the way, conducted me to a small square in
the suburbs of the city, where there were a number of
young noblemen and gentlemen playing at a vain, idle,
and sinful game, at which there was much of the language
of the accursed going on; and among these blasphemers


154 The Private Memoirs and
he instantly pointed out my brother to me. I was ﬁred
with indignation at seeing him in such company, and
so employed; and I placed myself close beside him to
watch all his motions, listen to his words, and draw
inferences from what I saw and heard. In what a sink of
sin was he wallowing! I resolved to take him to task,
and if he refused to be admonished, to inﬂict on him
some condign punishment ; and knowing that my illus-
trious friend and director was looking on, I resolved to
show some spirit. Accordingly, I waited until I heard
him profane his Maker’s name three times, and then, my
spiritual indignation being roused above all restraint,
I went up and kicked him. Yes, I went boldly up and
struck him with my foot, and meant to have given him a
more severe blow than it was my fortune to inﬂict. It
had, however, the effect of rousing up his corrupt nature
to quarrelling and strife, instead of taking the chastise-
ment of the Lord in humility and meekness. He ran
furiously against me in the choler that is always inspired
by the wicked one; but I overthrew him, by reason of
impeding the natural and rapid progress of his unholy
feet, running to destruction. I also fell slightly; but his
fall proving a severe one, he arose in wrath, and struck
me with the mall which he held in his hand, until my
blood ﬂowed copiously; and from that moment I vowed
his destruction in my heart. But I chanced to have no
weapon at that time, nor any means of inﬂicting due
punishment on the caitiﬂ', which would not have been
returned double on my head, by him and his graceless
associates. I mixed among them at the suggestion of
my friend, and following them to their den of voluptuous-
ness and sin, I strove to be admitted among them, in
hopes of ﬁnding some means of accomplishing my great


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. i 55
purpose, while I found myself moved by the spirit within
me so to do. But I was not only debarred, but, by the
machinations of my wicked brother and his associates,
cast into prison.
Iwas not sorry at being thus honoured to suffer in
the cause of righteousness, and at the hands of sinful men;
and as soon as I was alone, I betook myself to prayer,
deprecating the long-suffering of God towards such horrid
sinners. My jailer came to me, and insulted me. He
was a rude, unprincipled fellow, partaking much of the
loose and carnal manners of the age; but I remembered
of having read in the ‘Cloud of Witnesses,’ of such men
formerly having been converted by the imprisoned saints;
so I set myself, with all my heart, to bring about this
man’s repentance and reformation.
‘Fat the deil are ye yooling an’ praying that gate for,
man?’ said be, coming angrily in. ‘I thought the days
0’ praying prisoners had been a’ ower. We had rowth
0’ them aince; an’ they were the poorest and the blackest
bargains that ever poor jailers saw. Gie up your croon-
ing or I’ll pit ye to an in-by place, where ye sall get
plenty o’t.’
‘Friend,’ said I, ‘I am making my appeal at that bar
where all human actions are seen and judged, and where
you shall not be forgot, sinful as you are. Go in peace
and let me be.’
‘Hae ye naebody nearer hand hame to mak your
appeal to, man ?’ said he, ‘because an’ ye haena, I dread
you an’ me may be unco weel acquaintit by an’ by.’
I then opened up the mysteries of religion to him in
a clear and perspicuous manner, but particularly the
great doctrine of the election of grace ; and then I added,
‘Now, friend, you must tell me if you pertain to this,


I 56 The Private Memoirs and
chosen number. It is in every man’s power to ascertain
this, and it is every man’s duty to do it.’
‘An’ fat the better wad you be for the kenning 0’ this,
man?’ said he.
‘ Because, if you are one of my brethren, I will take you
into sweet communion and fellowship,’ retnmed I ; ‘but
if you belong to the unregenerate, I have a commission
to slay you.’
‘ The diel you hae, callant ! ’ said he, gaping and
laughing. ‘An’ pray now, fa was it that gae you siccan
a braw commission? ’
‘My commission is sealed by the signet above,’ said I,
‘and that I will let you and all sinners know. I am
dedicated to it by the most solemn vows and engage-
ments. I am the sword of the Lord, and Famine and
Pestilence are my sisters. Woe then to the wicked of
this land, for they must fall down dead together, that the
Church may be puriﬁed ! ’
‘Oo, foo, fool I see how it is,’ said he ; ‘yours is a very
braw commission, but you will have the small opportunity
of carrying it through here. Take my advising, and write
a bit of a letter to your friends, and I will send it, for this
is no place for such a great man. If you cannot steady
your hand to write, as I see you have been at your great
work, a word of a mouth may do ; for I do assure you this
is not the place at all, of any in the world, for your
operations.’
The man apparently thought I was deranged in my
intellect. He could not swallow such great truths at the
ﬁrst morsel. So I took his advice, and sent a line to my
reverend father, who was not long in coming, and great
was the jailer’s wonderment when he saw all the great
Christian noblemen of the land sign my bond of freedom.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 157
My reverend father took this matter greatly to heart,
and bestirred himself in the good cause till the trans
gressors were ashamed to show their faces. My illus-
trious companion was not idle : I wondered that he came
not to me in prison, nor at my release; but he was
better employed, in stirring up the just to the execution
of God’s decrees: and he succeeded so well, that my
brother and all his associates had nearly fallen victims to
their wrath: but many were wounded, bruised, and
imprisoned, and much commotion prevailed in the city.
For my part I was greatly strengthened in my resolution
by the anathemas of my reverend father, who, privately
(that is in the family capacity), in his prayers, gave up
my father and brother, according to the ﬂesh, to Satan,
making it plain to all my senses of perception, that they
were beings given upfof God, to be devoured by ﬁends or
men, at their will and pleasure, and that whosoever
should slay them, would do God good service.
The next morning my illustrious friend met me at an
early hour, and he was greatly overjoyed at hearing my
sentiments now chime so much in unison with his own.
I said, ‘I longed for the day and the hour that I might
look my brother in the face at Gilgal, and visit on him
the iniquity of his father and himself, for that I was now
strengthened and prepared for the deed.’
‘I have been watching the steps and movements of the
proﬂigate one,’ said he; ‘and lo, I will take you straight
to his presence. Let your heart be as the heart of the
lion, and your arms strong as the shekels of brass, and
swift to avenge as the bolt that descendeth from Heaven,
for the blood of the just and the good hath long ﬂowed
in Scotland. But already is the day of their avengement
begun; the hero is at length arisen, who shall send all


158 The Private Memoirs and
such as bear enmity to the true Church, or trust in works
of their own, to Tophet ! ’
Thus encouraged, I followed my friend, who led me
directly to the same court in which I had chastised the
miscreant on the foregoing day; and behold there was
the same group again assembled. They eyed me with
terror in their looks, as I walked among them and eyed
them with looks of disapprobation and rebuke; and I saw
that the very eye of a chosen one lifted on these children
of Belial, was sufﬁcient to dismay and put them to ﬂight.
I walked aside to my friend, who stood at a distance
looking on, and he said to me, ‘What thinkest thou
now? ’ and I answered in the words of the venal prophet,
‘Lo now, if I had a sword into mine hand, I would even
kill him.’
‘Wherefore lackest thou it?’ said he. ‘Dost thou not
see that they tremble at thy presence, knowing that the
avenger of blood is among them.’
My heart was lifted up on hearing this, and again I
strode into the midst of them, and eyeing them with
threatening looks, they were so much confounded that
they abandoned their sinful pastime, and ﬂed every one
to his house! This was a palpable victory gained over
the wicked, and I thereby knew that the hand of the
Lord was with me. My companion also exulted, and
said, ‘Did not I tell thee? Behold thou dost not know
one half of thy might, or of the great things thou art
destined to do. Come with me and I will show thee
more than this, for these young men cannot subsist with-
out the exercises. of sin. I listened to their counsels, and
I know where they will meet again.’
Accordingly he led me a little farther to the south, and
we walked aside till by degrees we saw some people begin


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 159
to assemble; and in a short time we perceived the same
group stripping off their clothes to make them more
expert in the practice of madness and folly. Their game
was begun before we approached, and so also were the
oaths and cursing. I put my hands in my pockets, and
walked with dignity and energy into the midst of them.
It was enough: terror and astonishment seized them.
A few of them cried out against me, but their voices
were soon hushed amid the murmurs of fear. One of
them, in the name of the rest, then came and besought
of me to grant them liberty to amuse themselves; but I
refused peremptorily, dared the whole multitude so much
as to touch me with one of their ﬁngers, and dismissed
them in the name of the Lord.
Again they all ﬂed and dispersed at my eye, and I
went home in triumph, escorted by my friend, and some
well-meaning young Christians, who, however, had not
learned to deport themselves with soberness and humility.
But my ascendency over my enemies was great indeed ;
for wherever I appeared I was hailed with approbation,
and wherever my guilty brother made his appearance, he
was hooted and held in derision, till he was forced to hide
his disgraceful head, and appear no more in public.
Immediately after this I was seized with a strange dis-
temper, which neither my friends nor physicians could
comprehend, and it conﬁned me to my chamber for many
days ; but I knew myself that I was bewitched, and sus-
pected my father’s reputed concubine of the deed. I told
my fears to my reverend protector, who hesitated con-
cerning them, but I knew by his words and looks that he
was conscious I was right. I generally conceived myself
to be two people. When I lay in bed, I deemed there
were two of us in it; when I sat up, I always beheld


160 The Private Memoirs and
another person, and always in the same position from the
place where I sat or stood, which was about three paces
off me towards my left side. It mattered not how many
or how few were present : this my second self was sure to
be present in his place; and this occasioned a confusion
in all my words and ideas that utterly astounded my
friends, who all declared, that instead of being deranged
in my intellect, they had never heard my conversation
manifest so much energy or sublimity of conception ; but
for all that, over the singular delusion that I was two
persons, my reasoning faculties had no power. The most
perverse part of it was, that I rarely conceived myself to
be any of the two persons. I thought for the most part
that my companion was one of them, and my brother the
other; and I found, that to be obliged to speak and
answer in the character of another man, was a most awk-
ward business at the long run.
Who can doubt, from this statement, that I was
bewitched, and that my relatives were at the ground of
it? The constant and unnatural persuasion that I was
my brother, proved it to my own satisfaction, and must, I
think, do so to every unprejudiced person. This victory
of the wicked one over me kept me conﬁned in my
chamber, at Mr Millar’s house, for nearly a month, until
the prayers of the faithful prevailed, and I was restored.
I knew it was a chastisement for my pride, because my
heart was lifted up at my superiority over the enemies of
the Church; nevertheless, I determined to make short
work of the aggressor, that the righteous might not be
subjected to the effect of his diabolical arts again.
I say I was conﬁned a month. I beg he that readeth
to take note of this, that he may estimate how much the
word, or even the oath, of a wicked man, is to depend on.


!= Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 161
, For a month I saw no one but such as came into my
I room, and for all that, it will be seen, that there were
plenty of the same set to attest upon oath that I saw my
brother every day during that period ; that I persecuted
him with my presence clay and night; while all the
time I never saw his face, save in a delusive dream. I
cannot comprehend what manaauvres my illustrious
friend was playing off with them about this time ; for he,
having the art of personating whom he chose, had perad-
venture deceived them, else so many of them had never
all attested the same thing. I never saw any man so
steady in his friendships and attentions as he; but as he
made a rule of never calling at private houses, for fear of
some discovery being made of his person, so I never saw
him while my malady lasted; but as soon as I grew
better, I knew I had nothing ado but to attend at some
of our places of meeting, to see him again. He was
punctual, as usual, and I had not to wait.
My reception was precisely as I apprehended. There
was no ﬂaring, no ﬂummery, nor bombastical pretensions,
but a digniﬁed return to my obeisance, and an immediate
recurrence, in converse, to the important duties incum.
bent on us, in our stations, as reformers and puriﬁers of
the Church.
‘I have marked out a number of most dangerous
characters in this city,’ said he, ‘all of whom must be cut
off from cumbering the true vineyard before we leave this
land. And if you bestir not yourself in the work to
which you are called, I must raise up others who shall
have the honour of it.’ '
‘I am, most illustrious prince, wholly at your service,’
said I. ‘Show but what ought to be done, and here is
the heart to dare, and the hand to execute. You pointed,
L


162 The Private Memoirs and
out my relations, according to the ﬂesh, as brands ﬁtted
to be thrown into the burning. I approve peremptorily
of the award ; nay, I thirst to accomplish it; for I myself
have suffered severely from their diabolical arts. 'When
once that trial of my devotion to the faith is accomplished,
then be your future operations disclosed.’ '
‘You are free of your words and promises,’ said he.
‘80 will I be of my deeds in the service of my master,
and that shalt thou see,’ said I. ‘I lack not the spirit,
nor the will, but I lack experience wofully ; and because
of that shortcoming, must bow to your suggestions.’
‘Meet me here to-morrow betimes,’ said he, ‘ and per-
haps you may hear of some opportunity of displaying
your zeal in the cause of righteousness.’
I met him as he desired me ; and he addressed me with
a hurried and joyful expression, telling me that my
brother was astir, and that a few minutes ago he had
seen him pass on his way to the mountain. ‘The hill is
wrapt in a cloud,’ added he, ‘and never was there such an
opportunity of executing divine justice on a guilty sinner.
You may trace him in the dew, and shall infallibly ﬁnd
him on the top of some precipice ; for it is only in secret
that he dare show his debased head to the sun.’
‘I have no arms, else assuredly Iwould pursue him and
discomﬁt him,’ said I.
‘Here is a small dagger,’ said he; ‘I have nothing of
weapon-kind about me save that, but it is a potent one ;
and should you require it there is nothing more ready or
sure.’
‘Will you not accompany me ? ’ said I. ‘ Sure you
will ? ’ V
‘I will be with you, or near you,’ said he. ‘Go you on
before.’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 163
I hurried away as he directed me, and imprudently
asked some of Queensberry’s guards if such and such a
young man passed by them going out from the city. I
was answered in the affirmative, and till then had doubted
of my friend’s intelligence, it was so inconsistent with a
proﬂigate’s life to be so early astir. When I got the
certain intelligence that my brother was before me, I fell
a-running scarcely knowing what I did; and looking
several times behind me, I perceived nothing of my
zealous and arbitrary friend. The consequence of this
was, that by the time I reached St Anthony’s Well, my
resolution began to give way. It was not my courage,
for now that I had once shed blood in the cause of the
true faith, I was exceedingly bold and ardent ; but when-
ever I was left to myself, I was subject to sinful doubtings.
These always hankered on one point: I doubted if the
elect were infallible, and if the Scripture promises to them
were binding in all situations and relations. I confess
this, and that it.was a sinful and shameful weakness in
me, but my nature was subject to it, and I could not
eschew it. I never doubted that I was one of the elect
myself; for, besides the strong inward and spiritual con-
viction that I possessed, I had my kind father’s assurance,
and these had been revealed to him in that way and
measure that they could not be doubted.
In this desponding state, I sat myself down on a stone,
and bethought me of the rashness of my undertaking.
I tried to ascertain, to my own satisfaction, whether or I
not I really had been commissioned of God to perpetrate
these crimes in His behalf, for in the eyes, and by the
laws of men, they were great and crying transgressions.
While I sat pondering on these things, I was involved in
a veil of white misty vapour, and looking up to heaven, I


164 f The Private Memoirs and
was just about to ask direction from above, when I heard
as it were a still small voice, close by me, which uttered
some words of derision and chiding. I looked intensely
in the direction whence it seemed to come, and perceived
a lady, robed in white, who hasted toward me. She
regarded me with a severity of look and gesture that
appalled me so much I could not address her; but she
waited not for that, but coming close to my side, said,
without stopping, ‘Preposterous wretch! how dare you
lift your eyes to heaven with such purposes in your
heart? Escape homeward, and save your soul, or
farewell for ever I ’
These were all the words that she uttered, as far as I
could ever recollect, but my spirits were kept in such a
tumult that morning, that something might have escaped
me. I followed her eagerly with my eyes, but in a
moment she glided over the rocks above the holy well,
and vanished. I persuaded myself that I had seen a
vision, and that the radiant being that had addressed me
was one of the good angels, or guardian spirits, com-
missioned by the Almighty to watch over the steps of
the just. My ﬁrst impulse was to follow her advice, and
make my escape home; for I thought to myself, ‘How is
this interested and mysterious foreigner, a proper judge
of the actions of a free Christian ? '
The thought was hardly framed, nor had I moved in a
retrograde direction six steps, when I saw my illustrious
friend and great adviser descending the ridge towards
me with hasty and impassioned strides. My heart fainted
within me; and when he came up and addressed me, I
looked as one caught in a trespass. ‘What hath detained
thee, thou desponding triﬂer?’ said he. ‘Verily now
shall the golden opportunity he lost which may never be


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Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 165
recalled. I have traced the reprobate to his sanctuary
in the cloud, and 10 he is perched on the pinnacle of a
precipice an hundred fathoms high. One ketch with
thy foot, or toss with thy ﬁnger, shall throw him from
thy side into the foldings of the cloud, and he shall be no
more seen, till found at the bottom of the cliff dashed to
pieces. Make haste, therefore, thou loiterer, if thou
wouldst ever prosper and rise to eminence in the work of
thy Lord and Master.’ '
‘I go no farther in this work,’ said I, ‘for I have seen
a vision that has reprimanded the deed.’
‘A vision?’ said he. ‘Was it that wench who de-
scended from the hill ? ’
‘ The being that spake to me, and warned me of the
danger, was indeed in the form of a lady,’ said I.
‘ She also approached me and said a few words,’
returned he; ‘and I thought there was something
mysterious in her manner. Pray, what did she say?
for the words of such a singular message, and from such
a messenger, ought to be attended to. If I understood
her aright, she was chiding us for our misbelief and pre-
posterous delay.’
I recited her words, but he answered that I had been
in a state of sinful doubting at the time, and it was to
these doubtings she had adverted. In short, this wonder-
ful and clear-sighted stranger soon banished all my
doubts and despondency, making me utterly ashamed of
them, and again I set out with him in the pursuit of my
brother. He showed me the traces of his footsteps in
the dew, and pointed out the spot where I should ﬁnd
him. ‘You have nothing more to do than go softly
down behind him,’ said he; ‘which you can do to within
an ell of him, without being seen; then rush upon him,


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. I67
I could not help my thoughts, and there are certain
trains and classes of thoughts that have great power in
enervating the mind. I thought of the awful thing of
plunging a fellow-creature from the top of a cliﬁ' into the
dark and misty void below—of his being dashed to pieces
on the protruding rocks, and of hearing his shrieks as he
descended the cloud, and beheld the shagged points on
which he was to alight. Then I thought of plunging a
soul so abruptly into hell, or, at the best, sending it to
hover on the conﬁnes of that burning abyss—of its
appearance at the bar of the Almighty to receive its
sentence. And then I thought, ‘Will there not be a
sentence pronounced against me there, by a jury of the
just made perfect, and written down in the registers of
heaven ? ’
These thoughts, I say, came upon me unasked, and
instead of being able to dispel them, they mustered,
upon the summit of my imagination, in thicker and
stronger array; and there was another that impressed
me in a very particular manner, though, I have reason
to believe, not so strongly as those above written. It
was this: ‘What if I should fail in my ﬁrst eﬂ'ort? Will
the consequences not be that I am tumbled from the
top of the rock myself ? ’ and then all the feelings antici-
pated, with regard to both body and soul, must happen
to me. This was a spine-breaking reﬂection; and yet,
though the probability was rather on that side, my zeal
in the cause of godliness was such that it carried me
on, maugre all danger and dismay.
I soon came close upon my brother sitting on the dizzy
pinnacle, with his eyes ﬁxed stedfastly in the direction
opposite to me. I descended the little green ravine
behind him with my feet foremost, and every now and


168 The Private Memoirs and
then raised my head, and watched his motions. His
posture continued the same, until at last I came so near
him I could have heard him breathe, if his face had been
towards me. Illaid my cap aside, and made me ready to
spring upon him, and push him over. I could not for
my life accomplish it! I do not think it was that I
durst not, for I have always felt my courage equal to
anything in a good cause. But I had not the heart, or
something that I ought to have had. In short, it was
not done in time, as it easily might have been. These
THOUGHTS are hard enemies wherewith to combat ! And
I was so grieved that I could not effect my righteous
purpose, that I laid me down on my face and shed tears.
Then, again, I thought of what my great enlightened
friend and patron would say to me, and again my resolu-
tion rose indignant, and indissoluble save by blood. I
arose on my right knee and left foot, and had just begun
to advance the latter forward: the next step my great
purpose had been accomplished, -and the culprit had
suffered the punishment due to his crimes. But what
moved him I know not: in the critical moment he sprung
to his feet, and dashing himself furiously against me, he
overthrew me, at the imminent peril of my life. I dis-
encumbered myself by main force, and ﬂed, but he
overhied me, knocked me down, and threatened, with
dreadful oaths, to throw me from the cliff. After I was
a little recovered from 'the stunning blow, I aroused
myself to the combat; and though I do not recollect the
circumstances of that deadly scufﬂe very minutely, I
know that I vanquished him so far as to force him to ask
my pardon, and crave a reconciliation. I spurned at
both, and left him to the chastisements of his own wicked
and corrupt heart.


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 169
My friend met me again on the hill, and derided me,
in a haughty and stern manner, for my imbecility and
want of decision. I told him how nearly I ‘had
effected my purpose, and excused myself as well as I
was able. On this, seeing me bleeding, he advised me
to swear the peace against my brother, and have him
punished in the meantime, he being the ﬁrst aggressor.
I promised compliance, and we parted, for I was some-
what ashamed of my failure, and was glad to be quit for
the present of one of whom I stood so much in awe.
When my reverend father beheld me bleeding a
a second time by the hand of a brother, he was moved
to the highest point of displeasure; and relying on his
high interest and the justice of his cause, he brought the
matter at once before the courts. My brother and I
were ﬁrst examined face to face. His declaration was a
mere romance: mine was not the truth; but as it was
by the advice of my reverend father, and that of my
illustrious friend, both of whom I knew to be sincere
Christians and true believers, that I gave it, I conceived
myself completely justiﬁed on that score. I said I had
gone up into the mountain early on the morning to pray,
and had withdrawn myself, for entire privacy, into a
little sequestered dell—had laid aside my cap, and was
in the act of kneeling, when I was rudely attacked by my
brother, knocked over and nearly slain. They asked my
brother if this was true. He acknowledged that it was;
that I was bare-headed and in the act of kneeling when
' he ran foul of me without any intent of doing so. But
the judge took him to task on the improbability of this,
and put the proﬂigate sore out of countenance. The
rest of his tale told still worse, insomuch that he was
laughed at by all present, for the judge remarked to


:70 The Private Memoirs and
him, that granting it was true that he had at ﬁrst run
against me on an open mountain, and overthrown me by
accident, how was it, that after I had extricated myself
and ﬂed, that he had pursued, overtaken, and knocked
me down a second time? Would he pretend that all
that was likewise by chance? The culprit had nothing
to say for himself on this head, and I shallgnot forget my
exultation, and that of my reverend father, when the
sentence of the judge was delivered. It was, that my
wicked brother should be thrown into prison, andl tried
on a criminal charge of assault and battery, with the
intent of committing murder. This was a just and
righteous judge, and saw things in their proper bearings,
that is, he could discern between a righteous and a
wicked man, and then there could be no doubt as to
which of the two were acting right, and which wrong.
Had I not been sensible that a justiﬁed person could do
nothing wrong, I should not have been at my ease con-
cerning the statement I had been induced to give on this
occasion. I could easily perceive, that by rooting out
the weeds from the garden of the Church, I heightened
the growth of righteousness; but as to the tardy way of
giving false evidence on matters of such doubtful issue, I
confess I saw no great propriety in it from the beginning.
But I now only moved by the will and mandate of my
illustrious friend; I had no peace or comfort when out of
his sight, nor have I ever been able to boast of much in
his presence; so true is it that a Christian’s life is one of
suffering.
My time was now much occupied, along with my
reverend preceptor, in making ready for the approaching
trial, as the prosecutors. Our counsel assured us of a
complete victory, and that banishment would be the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. i 17!
mildest award of the law on the oﬁender. Mark how
different was the result! From the shifts and ambigui-
ties of a wicked Bench, who had a fellow-feeling of
iniquity with the defenders—my suit was cast, the
graceless libertine was absolved, and I was incarcerated,
and bound over to keep the peace, with heavy penalties,
before I was set at liberty.
I was exceedingly disgusted at this issue, and blamed
the counsel of my friend to his face. He expressed
great grief, and expatiated on the wickedness of our
judicatories, adding, ‘I see I cannot depend on you for
quick and summary measures, but for your sake I shall
be revenged on that wicked judge, and that'you shall
see in a few days.’ The Lord Justice Clerk died that
same week! But he died in his own house and in his
own bed, and by What means my friend effected it, I do
not know. He would not tell me a single word of
the matter, but the judge’s sudden death made a great
noise, and I made so many curious inquiries regarding
the particulars of it, that some suspicions were like to
attach to our family, of some unfair means used. For
my part I know nothing, and rather think he died by
the visitation of Heaven, and that my friend had fore~
seen it, by symptoms, and soothed me by promises of
complete revenge.
It was some days before he mentioned my brother’s
meditated death to me again, and certainly he then
found me exasperated against him personally to the
highest degree. But I told him that I could not now
think any more of it, owing to the late judgment of the
court, by which if my brother were missing or found
dead, I would not only forfeit my life, but my friends
would be ruined by the penalties.


172 The Private Memoirs and
‘I suppose you know and believe in the perfect safety
of your soul,’ said he, ‘and that that is a matter
settled from the beginning of time, and now sealed and
ratiﬁed both in heaven and earth? ’
‘I believe in it thoroughly and perfectly,’ said I ; ‘ and
whenever I entertain doubts of it, I am sensible of sin
and weakness.’
‘Very well, so then am I,’ said he. ‘I think I can
now divine, with all manner of certainty, what will be
the high and merited guerdon of your immortal part.
Hear me then farther : I give you my solemn assurance,
and bond of blood, that no human hand shall ever hence-
forth be able to injure your life, or shed one drop of
your precious blood, but it is on the condition that
you walk always by my directions.’
‘I will do so with cheerfulness,’ said I; ‘for without
your enlightened counsel, I feel that I can do nothing.
But as to your power of protecting my life, you must
excuse me for doubting of it. Nay, were we in your
own proper dominions, you could not ensure that.’
‘In whatever dominion or land I am, my power accom-
panies me,’ said he; ‘and it is only against human might
and human weapon that I ensure your life ; on that will
I keep an eye, and on that you may depend. I have
never broken word or promise with you. Do you credit
me?’
‘Yes I do,’ said I; ‘for I see you are in earnest. I
believe, though I do not comprehend you.’
‘Then why do you not at once challenge your brother
to the ﬁeld of honour? Seeing you now act without
danger, cannot you also act without fear? ’
‘It is not fear,’ returned I; ‘believe me, I hardly know
what fear is. It is a doubt, that on all these emergencies


Confessions of a JustiﬁedSinner. 173
constantly haunts my mind, that in performing such and
such actions I may fall from my upright state. This
makes fratricide a fearful task.’
‘This is imbecility itself,’ said be. ‘We have settled,
and agreed on that point an hundred times. I would
therefore advise that you challenge your brother to single
combat. I shall ensure your safety, and he cannot refuse
giving you satisfaction.’
‘But then the penalties ? ’ said I.
‘We will try to evade these,’ said he; ‘and supposing
you should be caught, if once you are Laird of Dalcastle
and Balgrennan, what are the penalties to you ? ’
‘Might we not rather pop him off in private and
quietness, as we did the deistical divine?’ said I.
‘The deed would be alike meritorious, either way,’ said
he. ‘But may we not wait for years before we ﬁnd an
opportunity ? My advice is to challenge him, as privately
as you will, and there cut him off.’
‘So be it then,’ said I. ‘When the moon is at the full,
I will send for him forth to speak with one, and there will
I smite him and slay him, and he shall trouble the
righteous no more.’
‘Then this is the very night,’ said he. ‘ The moon is
nigh to the full, and this night your brother and his sin-
ful mates hold carousal ; for there is an intended journey
to-morrow. The exulting proﬂigate leaves town, where
we must remain till the time of my departure hence; and
then he is safe, and must live to dishonour God, and not
only destroy his own soul, but those of many others.
Alack, and wo is me ! The sins that he and his friends
will commit this very night, will cry to heaven against us
for our shameful delay! When shall our great work of


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 175
regarding the justiﬁcation of all the deeds of perfect
men. He chided me severely, and branded me with
cowardice, a thing that my nature never was subject to;
and then he branded me with falsehood, and breach of
the most solemn engagements both to God and man.
I was compelled to take the rapier, much against my
inclination; but for all the arguments, threats, and
promises that he could use, I would not consent to send
a challenge to my brother by his mouth. There was one
argument only that he made use of which had some
weight with me, but yet it would not preponderate. He
told me my brother was gone to a notorious and scan-
dalous habitation of women, and that if I left him to
himself for ever so short a space longer, it might embitter
his state through ages to come. This was a trying
concern to me; but I resisted it, and reverted to my
doubts. On this he said that he had meant to do me
honour, but since I had put it out of his power, he would
do the deed, and take the responsibility on himself. ‘I
have with sore travail procured a guardship of your life,’
added he. ‘For my own, I have not; but, be that as it
will, I shall not be baffled in my attempts to beneﬁt my
friends without a trial. You will at all events accompany
me, and see that I get justice? ’
‘Certes, I will do thus much,’ said I; ‘and woe be to
him if his arm prevail against my friend and patron ! ’
His lip curled with a smile of contempt, which I could
hardly brook; and I began to be afraid that the eminence
to which I had been destined by him was already fading
from my view. And I thought what I should then do to
ingratiate myself again {with him, for without his coun-
tenance I had no life. ‘I will be a man in act,’ thought


176 The Private Memoirs and
I, ‘but in sentiment I will not yield, and for this he must
surely admire me the more.’
As we emerged from the shadowy lane into the fair
moonshine, I started so that my whole frame underwent
the most chilling vibrations of surprise. I again thought
I had been taken at unawares, and was conversing with
another person. My friend was equipped in the High-
land garb, and so completely translated into another
being, that, save by his speech, all the senses of mankind
could not have recognised him. I blessed myself, and
asked whom it was his pleasure to personify to-night?
He answered me carelessly, that it was a spark whom he
meant should bear the blame of whatever might fall out
to-night : and that was all that passed on the subject.
We proceeded by some stone steps at the foot of the
North Loch, in hot argument all the way. I was afraid
that our conversation might be overheard, for the night
was calm and almost as light as day, and we saw sundry
people crossing us as we advanced. But the zeal of my
friend was so high, that be disregarded all danger, and
continued to argue ﬁercely and loudly on my delinquency,
as he was pleased to call it. I stood on one argument
alone, which was, ‘That I did not think the Scripture
promises to the elect, taken in their utmost latitude,
warranted the assurance that they could do no wrong;
and that, therefore, it behoved every man to look well to
his steps.’
There was no religious scruple that irritated my en-
lightened friend and master so much as this. He could
not endure it. And the sentiments of our great cove-
nanted reformers being on his side, there is not a doubt
I was wrong. He lost all patience on hearing what I
advanced on this matter, and taking hold of me, he led


l\
Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 177
I
me into a darksome booth in a conﬁned entry ; and, after
a friendly but cutting reproach, he bade me remain there
in secret and watch the event; ‘And if I fall,’ said he,
‘you will not fail to avenge my death.’
I was so entirely overcome with vexation that I could
make no answer, on which he left me abruptly, a prey to
despair; and I saw or heard no more, till he came down
to the moonlight green followed by my brother. They
had quarrelled before they came within my hearing, for
the ﬁrst words I heard were those of my brother, who
was in a state of intoxication, and he was urging a
reconciliation, as was his wont on such occasions. My
friend spurned at the suggestion, and dared him to the
combat; and after a good deal of boastful altercation,
which the turmoil of my spirits prevented me from
remembering, my brother was compelled to draw his
sword and stand on the defensive. It was a desperate
and terrible engagement. I at ﬁrst thought that the
royal stranger and great champion of the faith would
overcome his opponent with ease, for I considered heaven
as on his side, and nothing but the arm of sinful ﬂesh
against him. But I was deceived : the sinner stood ﬁrm
as a rock, while the assailant ﬁitted about like a shadow,
or rather like a spirit. I smiled inwardly, conceiving
that these lightsome manoeuvres were all a sham to show
off his art and mastership in the exercise, and that when-
ever they came to close fairly, that instant my brother
would be overcome. Still I was deceived: my brother’s
arm seemed invincible, so that the closer they fought the
more palpably did it prevail. They fought round the
green to the very edge of the water, and so round, till
they came close up to the covert where I stood. There
being no more room to shift ground, my brother then
M


178 The Private Memoirs and
forced him to come to close quarters, on which, the
former still having the decided advantage, my friend
quitted his sword, and called out. I could resist no
longer; so, springing from my concealment, I rushed
between them with my sword drawn, and parted them as
if they had been two schoolboys; then turning. to my
brother, I addressed him as follows :—‘Wretch! mis-
creant! knowest thou what thou art attempting?
Wouldst thou lay thine hand on the Lord’s anointed, or
shed his precious blood? Turn thee to me, that I may
chastise thee for all thy wickedness, and not for the
many injuries thou hast done to me!’ To it we
went, with full thirst of vengeance on every side. The
duel was ﬁerce; but the might of heaven prevailed,
and not my might. The ungodly and reprobate young
man fell, covered with wounds, and with curses and
blasphemy in his mouth, while I escaped uninjured.
Thereto his power extended not.
I will not deny, that my own immediate impressions of
this affair in some degree differed from this statement.
But this is precisely as my illustrious friend described it
to me afterwards, and I can rely implicitly on his
information, as he was at that time a looker-on, and my
senses all in a state of agitation, and he could have no
motive for saying what was not the positive truth.
Never till my brother was down did we perceive that
there had been witnesses to the whole business. Our
ears were then astounded by rude challenges of unfair
play, which were quite appalling to me; but my friend
laughed at them, and conducted me off in perfect safety.
As to the unfairness of the transaction, I can say thus
much, that my royal friend’s sword was down ere ever
mine was presented. But if it still be accounted unfair


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 179
to take up a conqueror, and punish him in his own way, I
answer: that if a man is sent on a positive mission by
his master, and hath laid himself under vows to do his
work, he ought not to be too nice in the means of accom-
plishing it; and farther, I appeal to holy writ, wherein
many instances are recorded of the pleasure the Lord
takes in the ﬁnal extinction of the wicked and profane ;
and this position I take to be unanswerable.
I was greatly disturbed in my mind for many days,
knowing that the transaction had been witnessed, and
sensible also of the perilous situation I occupied, owing
to the late judgment of the court against me. But, on
the contrary, I never saw my enlightened friend in such
high spirits. He assured me there was no danger; and
again repeated, that be warranted my life against the
power of man. I thought proper, however, to remain in
hiding for a week; but as he said, to my utter amaze-
ment, the blame fell on another, who was not only accused,
but pronounced guilty by the general voice, and outlawed
for non-appearance] how could I doubt, after this, that
the hand of heaven was aiding and abetting me? The
matter was beyond my comprehension; and as for my
friend, he never explained anything that was past, but
his activity and art were without a parallel.
He enjoyed our success mightily; and for his sake I
enjoyed it somewhat, but it was on account of his comfort,
only, for I could not for my life perceive in what degree
the Church was better or purer, than before these deeds
were done. He continued to ﬂatter me with great things,
as to honours, fame, and emolument : and above all, with
the blessing and protection of Him to whom my body and
soul were dedicated. But after these high promises, I
got no longer peace; for he began to urge the death of


180 The Private Memoirs and
my father with such an unremitting earnestness, that I
found I had nothing for it but to comply. I did so; and
cannot express his enthusiasm of approbation. So much
did he hurry and press me in this, that I was forced to
devise some of the most openly violent measures, having
no alternative. Heaven spared me the deed, taking, in
that instance, the vengeance in its own hand; for before
my arm could effect the sanguine but meritorious act, the
old man followed his son to the grave. My illustrious
and zealous friend seemed to regret this somewhat; but
he comforted himself with the reﬂection, that still I had
the merit of it, having not only consented to it, but in
fact effected it, for by doing the one action I had brought
about both.
No sooner were the obsequies of the funeral over, than
my friend and I went to Dalcastle, and took undisputed
possession of the houses, lands, and effects that had been
my father’s; but his plate, and vast treasures of ready
money he had bestowed on a voluptuous and unworthy
creature, who had lived long with him as a mistress. Fain
would I have sent her after her lover, and gave my friend
some hints on the occasion; but he only shook his head,
and said that we must lay all selﬁsh and interested motives
out of the question.
For a long time, when I awaked in the morning, I
could not believe my senses, that I was indeed the
undisputed and sole proprietor of so much wealth and
grandeur; and I felt so much gratiﬁed, that I immediately
set about doing all the good I was able, hoping to meet
with all approbation and encouragement from my friend.
I was mistaken : be checked the very ﬁrst impulses
towards such a procedure, questioned my motives, and
uniformly made them out to be wrong. There was one


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 181
morning that a servant said to me, there was a lady in
the back chamber who wanted to speak with me, but he
could not tell me who it was, for all the old servants had
left the mansion, every one on hearing of the death of
the late laird, and those who had come knew none of the
people in the neighbourhood. From several circum-
stances, I had suspicions of private confabulations with
women, and refused to go to her, but bid the servant
inquire what she wanted. She would not tell ; she could
only state the circumstances to me; so I, being sensible
that a little dignity of manner became me in my elevated
situation, returned for answer, that if it was business that
could not be transacted by my steward, it must remain
untransacted. The answer which the servant brought
back was of a threatening nature. She stated that she
must see me, and if I refused her satisfaction there, she
would compel it where I should not evite her.
My friend and director appeared pleased with my
dilemma, and rather advised that I should hear what the
woman had to say; on which I consented, provided she
would deliver her mission in his presence. She came in
with manifest signs of anger and indignation, and began
with a bold and direct charge against me of a shameful
assault on one of her daughters; of having used the
basest of means in order to lead her aside from the paths
of rectitude; and on the failure of these, of having
resorted to the most unqualiﬁed measures.
I denied the charge in all its bearings, assuring the
dame that I had never so much as seen either of her
daughters to my knowledge, far less wronged them; on
which she got into great wrath, and abused me to my
face as an accomplished vagabond, hypocrite, and
sensualist ; and she went so far as to tell me roundly, that


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 183
a poor widow’s only hope in this world? No, you cannot
look in my face, and deny aught of this.’
‘The woman is ravinglmad I ’ said I. ‘You, illustrious
sir, know, that in the ﬁrst instance, I have not yet been in
this place one month.’ My friend shook his head again,
and answered me, ‘You are wrong, my dear friend; you
are wrong. It is indeed the space of time that the lady
hath stated, to a day, since you came here, and I came
with you ; and I am sorry that I know for certain that
you have been frequently haunting her house, and have
often had private correspondence with one of the young
ladies too. Of the nature of it I presume not to know.’
‘You are mocking me,’ said I. ‘But as well may you
try to reason me out of my existence, as to convince me
that I have been here even one month, or that any of
those things you allege against me has the shadow of
truth or evidence to support it. I will swear to you by
the great God that made me; and by—-’
‘Hold, you most abandoned proﬂigate l ’ cried she
violently, ‘and do not add perjury to your other detest-
able crimes. Do not, for mercy sake, any more profane
that name whose attributes you have wrested and dis-
graced. But tell me what reparation you propose offering
to my injured child ? ’
‘I again declare, before heaven, woman, that to the
best of my knowledge and recollection, I never saw your
daughter. I now think I have some faint recollection of
having seen your face, but where, or in what place,
puzzles me quite.’
‘And, why P ’ said she. ‘Because for months and days
you have been in such a state of extreme inebriety, that
your time has gone over like a dream that has been
forgotten. I believe, that from the day you came ﬁrst to


184
The Private Memoirs and
my house, you have been in a state of utter delirium, and
that principally from the fumes of wine and ardent
spirits.’
‘It is a manifest falsehood!’ said I; ‘I have never,
since I entered on the possession of Dalcastle, tasted wine
or spirits, saving once a few evenings ago ; and, I confess
to my shame, that I was led too far; but I have craved
forgiveness and obtained it. I take my noble and dis-
tinguished friend there for a witness to the truth of
what I assert ; a man who has done more, and sacriﬁced
more for the sake of genuine Christianity, than any this
world contains. Him you will believe.’
‘I hope you have attained forgiveness,’ said be,
seriously. ‘Indeed it would be next to blasphemy to
doubt it. But, of late, you have been very much addicted
to intemperance. I doubt if from the ﬁrst night you
tasted the delights of drunkenness, that you have ever
again been in your right mind until Monday last. Doubt-
Iess you have been for a good while most diligent in your
addresses to this lady’s daughter.’
‘This is unaccountable,’ said I. ‘It is impossible that
I can have been doing a thing, and not doing it at the
same time. But indeed, honest woman, there have
several incidents occurred to me in the course of my life
which persuade me I have a second self: or that there is
some other being who appears in my likeness.’
Here my friend interrupted me with a sneer, and a hint
that I was talking insanely; and then he added, turning
to the lady, ‘I know my friend Mr Colwan will do what is
just and right. Go and bring the young lady to him, that
he may see her, and he will then recollect all his former
amours with her.’
‘I humbly beg your pardon, sir,’ said I. ‘But the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 185
mention of such a thing as amours with any woman
existing, to me, is really so absurd, so far from my
principles, so far from the purity of nature and frame to
which I was born and consecrated, that I hold it as an
insult, and regard it with contempt.'
I would have said more in reprobation of such an idea,
had not my servant entered, and said, that a gentleman
wanted to see me on business. Being glad of an oppor-
tunity of getting quit of my lady visitor, I ordered the
servant to show him in; and forthwith a little lean
gentleman, with a long aquiline nose, and a bald head,
daubbed all over with powder and pomatum, entered.
I thought I recollected having seen him too, but could
not remember his name, though he spoke to me with
the greatest familiarity; at least that sort of familiarity
that an ofﬁcial person generally assumes. He bustled
about and about, speaking to every one, but declined
listening for a single moment to any. The lady offered
to withdraw, but he stopped her.
‘No, no, Mrs Keeler, you need not go; you need not
go; you must not go, madam. The business I came about,
concerns you—yes, that it does—Bad business you of
Walker’s? Eh? Could not help it—did all I could, Mr
Wringhim. Done your business. Have it all cut and
dry here, sir—No, this is not it—Have it among them
though—I’m at a little loss for your name, sir (addressing
my friend)--seen you very often though—exceedingly
often—quite well acquainted with you.’
‘No, sir, you are not,’ said my friend, sternly. The
intruder never regarded him; never so much as lifted his
eyes from his bundle of law papers, among which he
was bustling with great hurry and importance, but went
on—


186 The Private Memoirs and
‘Impossible ! Have seen a face very like it, then —what
did you say your name was, sir ?—very like it indeed.
Is it not the young laird who was murdered whom you
resemble so much.’
Here Mrs Keeler uttered a scream, which so much
startled me, that it seems I grew pale. And on looking
at my friend’s face, there was something struck me so
forcibly in the likeness between him and my late brother,
that I had very nearly fainted. The woman exclaimed,
that it was my brother’s spirit that stood beside me.’
Impossible l’ exclaimed the attorney: ‘at least I hope
not, else his signature is not worth a pin. There is some
balance due on you business, madam. Do you wish your
account? because I have it here, ready discharged, and it
does not suit letting such things lie over. This business
of Mr Colwan’s will be a severe one on you, madam—
rather a severe one.’
‘What business of mine, if it be your will, sir,’ said I.
‘For my part I never engaged you in business of any sort,
less or more.’ He never regarded me, but went on.
‘You may appeal, though : Yes, yes, there are such
things as appeals for the refractory. Here it is, gentle-
men—here they are all together—Here is, in the ﬁrst place,
sir, your power of attorney, regularly warranted, sealed,
and signed with your own hand.’
‘I declare solemnly that I never signed that document,’
said I.
‘Ay, ay, the system of denial is not a bad one in
general,’ said my attorney; ‘but at present there is no
occasion for it. You do not deny your own hand l ’
‘I deny everything connected with the business,’ cried
I; ‘ I disclaim it in toto, and declare that I know no more
about it than the child unborn.’


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 187
‘That is exceedingly good l ’ exclaimed he; ‘I like your
pertinacity vastly ! I have three of your letters, and three
of your signatures; that part is all settled, and I hope
so is the whole affair; for here is the original grant to
your father, which he has never thought proper to put
in requisition. Simple gentleman! But here have I,
Lawyer Linkum, in one hundredth part of the time that
any other notary, writer, attorney, or writer to the signet
in Britain, would have done it, procured the signature of
His Majesty’s commissioner, and thereby conﬁrmed the
charter to you and your house, sir, for ever and ever—
begging your pardon, madam.’ The lady, as well as
myself, tried several times to interrupt the loquacity of
Linkum, but in vain: he only raised his hand with a
quick ﬂourish, and went on :
‘Here it is—“ JAMES, by the grace of God, King of
Great Britain, France, and Ireland, to his right trusty
cousin, sendeth greeting: And whereas his right leal
and trustworthy cousin, George Colwan of Dalcastle and
Balgrennan, hath suffered great losses, and undergone
much hardship, on behalf of his Majesty’s rights and titles;
he therefore, for himself, and as prince and steward of
Scotland, and by the consent of his right trusty cousins
and councillors, hereby grants to the said George Colwan,
his heirs and assignees whatsomever, heritably and irre-
vocably, all and haill the lands and others underwritten.
To wit, All and haill, the ﬁve merk land of Kipplerig;
the ﬁve pound land of Easter Knockward, with all the
towers, fortalices, manor-places, houses, biggings, yards,
orchards, tofts, crofts, mills, woods, ﬁshings, mosses, muirs,
meadows, commonties, pasturages, coals, coal-heughs,
tenants, tenantries, services of free tenants, annexes,
connexes, dependencies, parts, pendicles, and pertinents


188 The Private Memoirs and
of the same whatsomever; to be peaceably brooked,
joysed, set, used, and disposed of by him and his aboves,
as speciﬁed, heritably and irrevocably, in all time coming:
And, in testimony thereof, His Majesty, for himself, and
as prince and steward of Scotland, with the advice and
consent of his foresaids, knowledge, proper motive, and
kingly power, makes, erects, creates, unites, annexes, and
incorporates, the whole lands above mentioned in an
haill and free barony, by all the rights, miethes, and
marches thereof, old and divided, as the same lies, in
length and breadth, in houses, biggings, mills, multures,
hawking, hunting, ﬁshing; with court, plaint herezeld,
fock, fork, sack, sock, thole, thame, vert, wraik, waith,
wair, venison, outfang thief, infang thief, pit and gallows,
and all and sundry other commodities. Given at our
Court of Whitehall, etc., etc. God save the King.
“ Compositio 5 lib. 13. 8.
“ Registrate 26th September, 1687.”
‘See, madam, here are ten signatures of privy
councillors of that year, and here are other ten of the
present year, with his Grace the Duke of Queensberry at
the head. All right—See here it is, sir—all right—done
your work. So you see, madam, this gentleman is the
true and sole heritor of all the land that your father
possesses, with all the rents thereof for the last twenty
years and upwards—Fine job lot my employers I—sorry
on your account madam—can’t help it.’
I was again going to disclaim all interest or connexion
in the matter but my friend stopped me; and the plaints
and lamentations of the dame became so overpowering,
that they put an end to all further colloquy; but Lawyer
Linkum followed me, and stated his great outlay, and the


190 The Private Memoirs an
which it had no control, and of whose actions my own
soul was wholly unconscious. This was an anomaly not
to be accounted for by any philosophy of mine; and I
was many times, in contemplating it, excited to terrors
and mental torments hardly describable. To be in a
state of consciousness and unconsciousness, at the same
time, in the same body and same spirit, was impossible.
I was under the greatest anxiety, dreading some change
would take place momently in my nature ; for of dates I
could make nothing: one-half, or two-thirds of my time,
seemed to me to be totally lost. I often, about this time,
prayed with great fervour, and lamented my hopeless
condition, especially in being liable to the commission of
crimes, which I was not sensible of, and could not eschew.
And I confess, notwithstanding the promises on which I
had been taught to rely, I began to have secret terrors,
that the great enemy of man’s salvation was exercising
powers over me, that might eventually lead to my ruin.
These were but temporary and sinful fears, but they
added greatly to my unhappiness.
The worst thing of all was, what hitherto I had never
felt, and, as yet, durst not confess to myself, that the
presence of my illustrious and devoted friend was becom-
ing irksome to me. When I was by myself, I breathed
freer, and my step was lighter; but, when he approached, a
pang went to my heart; and, in his company, I moved
and acted as if under a load that I could hardly endure.
What a state to be in! And yet to shake him off was
impossible—we were incorporated together—identiﬁed
with one another, as it were, and the power was not in
'me to separate myself from him. I still knew nothing
who he was, farther than that he was a potentate of some
foreign land, bent on establishing some pure and genuine


192 The Private Memoirs and
In this state of irritation and misery, was I dragging on
an existence, disgusted with all around me, and in
particular with my mother, who, with all her love and
anxiety, had such an insufferable mode of manifesting
them, that she had by this time rendered herself exceed-
ingly obnoxious to me. The very sound of her voice at
a distance went to my heart like an arrow, and made all
my nerves to shrink ; and as for the beautiful young lady
of whom they told me I had been so much enamoured, I
shunned all intercourse with her or hers as I would have
done with the devil. I read some of their letters and
burnt them, but refused to see either the young lady or
her mother, on any account.
About this time it was, that my worthy and reverend
parent came with one of his elders to see my mother and
myself. His presence always brought joy with it into our
family, for my mother was uplifted, and I had so few who
cared for me, or for whom I cared, that I felt rather
gratiﬁed at seeing him. My illustrious friend was also
much more attached to him than any other person (ex-
cept myself), for their religious principles tallied in every
point, and their conversation was interesting, serious, and
sublime. Being anxious to entertain well and highly the
man to whom I had been so much indebted, and know-
ing that with all his integrity and righteousness, he
disdained not the good things of this life, I brought from
the late laird’s well-stored cellars, various fragrant and
salubrious wines, and we drank and became merry, and
I found that my miseries and overpowering calamities
passed away over my head like a shower that is driven by
the wind. I became elevated and happy, and welcomed
my guests an hundred times ; and then I joined them in
religious conversation, with a zeal and enthusiasm which


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 193
I had not often experienced, and which made all their
hearts rejoice, so that I said to myself, ‘Surely every gift
of God is a blessing, and ought to be used with liberality
and thankfulness.’
The next day I waked from a profound and feverish
sleep, and called for something to drink. There was a
servant answered whom I had never seen before, and he
was clad in my servant’s clothes and livery. I asked for
Andrew Handyside, the servant who had waited at table
the night before ; but the man answered with a stare and
a smile.
‘ What do you mean, sirrah,’ said I. ‘Pray what do you
here? or what are you pleased to laugh at? I desire you
to go about your business, and send me up Handyside.
I want him to bring me something to drink.’
‘Ye sanna want a drink, maister,’ said the fellow.
‘Tak a hearty ane, and see if it will wauken ye up some-
thing, sae that ye dinna ca’ for ghaists through your
sleep. Surely you haena forgotten that Andrew Handy-
side has been in his grave these six months?’
This was a stunning blow to me. I could not answer
further, but sunk back on my pillow as if I had been a
lump of lead, refusing to take a drink or anything else at
the fellow’s hand, who seemed thus mocking me with so
grave a face. The man seemed sorry, and grieved at my
being offended, but I ordered him away, and continued
sullen and thoughtful. Could I have again been for a
season in utter oblivion to myself and transacting business
which I neither approved of, nor had any connection
with! I tried to recollect something in which I might
have been engaged, but nothing was portrayed on my
mind subsequent to the parting with my friends at a late
hour the evening before. The evening before it certainly
N


194 The Private Memoirs and
was; but if so, how came it, that Andrew Handyside,
who served at table that evening, should have been in his
grave six monthsl This was a circumstance somewhat
equivocal ; therefore, being afraid to arise lest accusations
of I knew not what might come against me, I was obliged
to call once more in order to come at what intelligence I
could. The same fellow appeared to receive my orders as
before, and I set about examining him with regard to
particulars. He told me his name was Scrape; that I
hired him myself; of whom I hired him; and at whose
recommendation. I smiled, and nodded so as to let the
knave see I understood he was telling me a chain of false-
hoods, but did not choose to begin with any violent
asseverations to the contrary. '
‘And where is my noble friend and companion ? ’ said I.
‘How has he been engaged in the interim? ’,
‘ I dinna ken him, sir,’ said Scrape; ‘ but have heard it
said, that the strange mysterious person that attended
you, him that the maist part of the folks counted un-
canny, had gone awa’ wi’ a Mr Ringan 0’ Glasgow last
year, and had never returned.’
I thanked the Lord in my heart at this intelligence,
hoping that the illustrious stranger had returned to his
own land and people, and that I should thenceforth be
rid of his controlling and appalling presence. ‘And where
is my mother? ’ said I—The man’s breath cut short, and
he looked at me without returning any answer—‘ I ask
you where my mother is ?’ said I.
‘God only knows, 'and not I, where she is,’ returned
he. ‘He knows where her soul is, and as for her body,
if ye dinna ken something 0’ it, I suppose nae man alive
does.’ U
‘What do you mean, you knave ?’ said I; "whatdark


196 The Private Memoirs a1
At the extremity of the Colwan wood, I perceived a
ﬁgure approaching me with slow and digniﬁed motion.
The moment that I beheld it, my whole frame received a
shock as if the ground on which I walked had sunk
suddenly below me. Yet, at that moment, I knew not
who it was ; it was the air and motion of some one that
I dreaded, and from whom I would gladly have escaped ;
but this I even had not power to attempt. It came
slowly onward, and I advanced as slowly to meet it ; yet
when we came within speech, I still knew not who it was.
It bore the ﬁgure, air, and features of my late brother, I
thought, exactly ; yet in all these there were traits so for-
bidding, so mixed with an appearance of misery, chagrin,
and despair, that I still shrunk from the view, not knowing
on whose face I looked. But when the being spoke, both
my mental and bodily frame received another shock,
more terrible than the ﬁrst, for it was the voice of the
great personage I had so long denominated my friend, of
whom I had deemed myself for ever freed, and whose
presence and counsels I now dreaded more than hell.
It was his voice, but so altered—I shall never forget it
till my dying day. Nay, I can scarce conceive it possible
that any earthly sounds could be so discordant, so
repulsive to every feeling of a human soul, as the tones
of the voice that grated on my ear at that moment.
They were the sounds of the pit, wheezed through a
grated cranny, or seemed so to my distempered imagina-
tion.
‘ So ! thou shudderest at my approach now, dost thou ? ’
said he. ‘15 this all the gratitude that you deign for an
attachment of which the annals of the world furnish no
parallel? An attachment which has caused me to forego
power and dominion, might, homage, conquest, and adu-


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 197
lation, all that I might gain one highly valued and sancti-
ﬁed spirit to my great and true principles of reformation
among mankind. Wherein have I offended? What
have I done for evil, or what have I not done for your
good, that you would thus shun my presence? ’
‘Great and magniﬁcent prince,’ said I humbly, ‘let me
request of you to abandon a poor worthless Wight to his
own wayward fortune, and return to the dominion of
your people. I am unworthy of the sacriﬁces you have
made for my sake; and after all your efforts, I do not
feel that you have rendered me either more virtuous or
more happy. For the sake of that which is estimable in
human nature depart from me to your own home, before
you render me a being altogether above, or below the
rest of my fellow-creatures. Let me plod on towards
heaven and happiness in my own way, like those that
have gone before me, and I promise to stick fast by the
great principles which you have so strenuously inculcated,
on condition that you depart and leave me for ever.’
‘Sooner shall you make the mother abandon the child
of her bosom; nay, sooner cause the shadow to relinquish
the substance, than separate me from your side. Our
beings are amalgamated, as it were, and consociated in
one, and never shall I depart from this country until I
can carry you in triumph with me.’
I can in nowise describe the effect this appalling speech
had on me. It was like the announcement of death to
one who had of late deemed himself free, if not of some-
thing worse than death, and of longer continuance.
There was I doomed to remain in misery, subjugated,
soul and body, to one whose presence was become more
intolerable to me than ought on earth could compensate.
And at that moment, when he beheld the anguish of my


202 The Private Memoirs and
Penpunt, which I thought a name so ludicrous that I
called him by the name of his native village, an appella—
tion of which he was very proud, and answered everything
with more civility and perspicuity when I denomi-
nated him Penpunt, than Samuel, his own Christian
,name. Of this peasant was I obliged to make a com-
panion on sundry occasions, and strange indeed were the
details which he gave me concerning myself, and the
ideas of the country people concerning me. I took down
a few of these in writing, to put off the time, and here
leave them on record to show how the best and greatest
actions are misconstrued among sinful and ignorant men.
‘You say, Samuel, that I hired you myself—that I
have been a good enough master to you, and have paid
you your weekly wages punctually. Now, how is it that
you say this, knowing, as you do, that I never hired you,
and never paid you a sixpence of wages in the whole
course of my life, excepting this last month ? ’
‘Ye may as weel say, master, that water’s no water, or
that stanes are no stanes. But that’s just your gate, an’
it is a great pity aye to do a thing an’ profess the clean
contrair. Weel then, since you havena paid me ony
wages, an’ I can prove day and date when I was hired, an’
came hame to your service, will you be sae kind as to pay
me now? That’s the best way 0’ curing a man 0’ the
mortal disease 0’ leasing-making that I ken o’.’
‘I should think that Penpunt and Cameronian prin~
ciples would not admit of a man taking twicepayment
for the same article.’
‘In sic a case as this, sir, it disna hinge upon principles,
but a piece 0’ good manners; an’ I can tell you that at
sic a crisis, a Cameronian is a gayan weel-bred man.
He’s driven to this, that he maun either make a breach


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 203
in his friend’s good name or in his purse; an’ O, sir,
whilk o’ thae, think you, is the most precious? For
instance, an’ a Galloway drover had comed to the town
0’ Penpunt, an’ said to a Cameronian (the folk’s a’
Cameronians there), “Sir, I want to buy your cow.”
“Vera weel,” says the Cameronian, “I just want to sell the
cow, sae gie me twanty punds Scots, an take her wi’ ye.”
It’s a bargain. The drover takes away the cow, and gies
the Cameronian his twanty pund Scots. But after that,
he meets him again on the white sands, amang a’ the
drovers an’ dealers 0’ the land, an’ the Gallowayman, he
says to the Cameronian, afore a’ thae witnesses, “Come,
Master Whiggam, I 'hae never paid you for you hit
useless cow, that I bought, I’ll pay her the day, but you
maun mind the luck-penny; there’s muckle need for’t,”——
or something to that purpose. The Cameronian then
turns out to be a civil man, an’ canna bide to make the
man baith a feele an’ liar at the same time afore his
associates; an’ therefore he pits his principles aﬁ' at the
side, to be a kind 0’ sleeping partner, as it war, an’ brings
up his good breeding to stand at the counter : he pockets
the money, gies the Galloway driver time 0’ day, an’
comes his way. An’ wha’s to blame? Man mind
yoursel’ is the ﬁrst- commandment. A Cameronian’s
principles never came atween him and his purse, nor
sanna in the present case; as I canna bide to make you
out a leear, I’ll thank you for my wages.’
‘Well, you shall have them, Samuel, if you declare to
me that I hired you myself in this same person, and
bargained with you this same tongue, and voice, with
which I speak to you just now.’
‘That I do declare. unless ye hae twa persons 0’ the
same appearance, and twa tongues to the same voice.


204 The Private Memoirs am
But, ’od seif us, sir, do you ken what the auld wives o’
the clachan say about you? ’
‘ How should I when no one repeats it to me? ’
‘ 00, I trow it’s a’ stuff; folk shouldna heed what’s said
by auld crazy kimmers. But there are some 0' them weel
kend for Witches too; an’ they say-Lord have a care 0’ us 1
—they say the deil’s often seen gaun sidie for sidie w’ye,
whiles in ac shape, an’ whiles in anither. An’ they say
that he whiles takes your ain shape, or else enters into
you and then you turn deil yoursel’.’
I was so astounded at this terrible idea that had gone
abroad, regarding my fellowship with the prince of dark-
ness, that I could make no answer to the fellow’s informa-
tion, but sat like one in a stupor; and if it had not been
for my well-founded faith and conviction that I was a
chosen and elected one before the world was made, I
should at that moment have given into the popular
belief, and fallen into the sin of despondency; but I was
preserved from such a fatal error by an inward and
unseen supporter. Still the insinuation was so like what
I felt myself that I was greatly awed and confounded.
The poor fellow observed this, and tried to do away
the impression by some farther sage remarks of his
own.
‘Hout, dear sir, it is balderdash, there’s nae doubt o’t.
It is the crownhead o’ absurdity to tak in the havers o’
auld wives for gospel. I told them that my master was a
peeous man, an’ a sensible man; an’ for praying, that he
could ding auld Macmillan himsel’. “ Sae could the deil, ’
they said, “when he liket, either at preaching or praying,
if these war to answer his aim ends.” “Na, na,” says I,
“but he’s a strick believer in a’ the truths 0’ Christianity,
my master.” They said, sae was Satan, for that he was


206 The Private Memoirs 1
the air, that rules an’ works in the bairns o’ disobedience?
Gin ever he observes a proud professor, wha has mae
than ordinary pretensions to a divine calling, and that
reads and prays till the very howlets learn his preambles,
that’s the man Auld Simmie ﬁxes on to mak a dishclout
0’. He canna get rest in hell if he sees a man, or a set
of men 0’ this stamp, an’ when he sets fairly to wark, it is
seldom that he disna bring them round till his ain
measures by hook or by crook. Then, 0 it is a grand
prize for him, an’ a proud diel he is, when he gangs hame
to his aim ha’, wi’ a batch o’ the souls o’ sic strenuous
professors on his back. Ay, I trow, auld Ingleby, the
Liverpool packman, never came up Glasgow street wi’
prouder pomp, when he had ten horse-laids afore him
0’ Flanders lace, an’ Hollin lawn, an’ silks'an’ satins frae
the eastern Indians, than Satan wad strodge into hell
wi’ a pack-lade o’ the souls o’ proud professors on his
braid shoulders. Ha, ha, ha ! I think I see how the auld
thief wad be gaun through his gizened dominions, crying
his wares, in derision, ‘Wha will buy a fresh, cauler divine,
a bouzy bishop, a fasting zealot, or a piping priest? For
a’ their prayers an’ their praises, their aumuses, an’ their
penances, their whinings, their howlings, their rantings,
an’ their ravings, here they come at last! Behold the
end! Here go the rare and precious wares! A fat
professor for a bodle, an’ a lean ane for half a merk ! ’ ”
I declare, I trembled at the auld hag’s ravings, but
the lave o’ the kimmers applauded the sayings as
sacred truths. An’ then Lucky went on: “There are
many wolves in sheep’s claithing, among us, my man;
mony deils aneath the masks o’ zealous professors,
roaming about in kirks and meeting-houses o’ the land.
It was but the year afore the last, that 'the people 0’


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 207
“.5. .,- -4
the town 0’ Auchtermuchty grew so rigidly righteous,
that the meanest hind among them became a shining
light in ither towns an’ parishes. There was nought to
be heard, neither night or day, but preaching, praying,
argumentation, an’ catechising in a’ the famous town 0’
Auctermuchty. The young men wooed their sweethearts
out o’ the Song 0’ Solomon, and the girls returned
answers in strings 0’ verses out 0’ the Psalms. At the
lint-swinglings, they said questions round; and read
chapters, and sang hymns at bridals; auld and young
prayed in their dreams, an’ prophesied in their sleep, till
the deils in the farrest nooks 0’ hell were alarmed, and
moved to commotion. Gin it hadna been an auld carl,
Robin Ruthven, Auctermuchty wad at that time hae
been ruined and lost for ever. But Robin was a cunning
man, an’ had rather mae wits than his ain, for he had
been in the hands 0’ the fairies when he was young, an’
a’ kinds 0’ spirits were visible to his een, an’ their
language as familiar to him as his ain mother tongue
Robin was sitting on the side 0’ the West Lowmond, ae
still gloomy night in September, when he saw a bridal 0’
corbie craws coming east the lift, just on the edge 0’ the
gloaming. The moment that Robin saw them, he kenned,
by their movements, that they were craws 0’ some ither
warld than this; so he signed himself, and crap into the
middle 0’ his bourock. The corbie craws came a’ an’ sat
down round about him, and they pouket their black
sooty wings, and spread them out to the breeze to cool;
and Robin heard ae corbie speaking, an’ another answering
him; an’ the tane said to the tither? ‘Where will the
ravens ﬁnd a prey the night? ’ ‘ On the lean crazy souls
0’ Auctermuchty,’ quo the tither. ‘I fear they will be
o’er weel wrappet up in the warm ﬂannens 0’ faith, an’


208 The Private Memoirs
clouted with the dirty duds o’ repentance, for us to mak
a meal 0” quo the ﬁrst. ‘Whaten vile sounds are these
that I hear coming bumming up the hill? ’ ‘ 0 these are
the hymns and praises 0’ the auld wives and creeshy louns
o’ Auctermuchty, wha are gaun crooning their way to
heaven; an’ gin it warna for the shame 0’ being beat, we
might let our great enemy take them, for sic a prize as he
will hael Heaven, forsooth! What shall we think 0’
heaven, if it is to be ﬁlled wi’ vermin like thae, among
whom there is mair poverty and pollution, that I can
name.’ ‘No matter for that,’ said the ﬁrst, ‘we cannot
have our power set at deﬁance; though we should put
them in the thief’s hole, we must catch them, and catch
them with their own bait too. Come all to church to-
morrow, and I’ll let you hear how I’ll gull the saints of
Auchtermuchty. In the meantime there is a feast on
the Sidlaw hills to-night, below the hill of Macbeth—-
Mount, Diabolus, and ﬂy.’ Then, with loud croaking
and crowing, the bridal of corbies again scaled the dusky
air, and left Robin Ruthven in the middle of his cairn.
“‘ The next day the congregation met in the kirk of
Auchtermuchty, but the minister made not his appear-
ance. The elders ran out and in, making inquiries;
but they could learn nothing, save that the minister
was missing. They ordered the clerk to sing a part of
the 119th Psalm, until they saw if the minister would
cast up. The clerk did as he was ordered, and by the
time he reached the 77th verse, a strange divine entered
the church, by the western door, and advanced solemnly
up to the pulpit. The eyes of all the congregation were
rivettedl on the sublime stranger, who was clothed
in a robe of black sackcloth, that ﬂowed all around him,
and trailed far behind, and they weened him an angel


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 209
come to exhort them, in disguise. He read out his text
from the Prophecies of Ezekiel, which consisted of
these singular words: ‘I will overturn, overturn, over-
turn it; and it shall be no more, until he come whose
right it is, and I will give it him.’
“‘From these words he preached such a sermon as
never was heard by human ears, at least never by cars
of Auchtermuchty. It was a true, sterling, gospel
sermon—it was striking, sublime, and awful in the ex-
treme. He ﬁnally made out the it mentioned in the
text, to mean, properly and positively, the notable town
of Auchtermuchty. He proved all the people in it, to
their perfect satisfaction, to be in the gall of bitterness
and bond of iniquity, and he assured them that God
would overturn them, their principles and professions ;
and that they should be no more, until the devil, the
town’s greatest enemy came, and then it should be
given unto him for a prey, for it was his right, and to
him it belonged, if there was not forthwith a radical
change made in all their opinions and modes of worship.
“‘The inhabitants of Auchtermuchty were electriﬁed,
they were charmed; they were actually raving mad about
the grand and sublime truths delivered to them by this
eloquent and impressive preacher of Christianity. ‘He
is a prophet of the Lord,’ said one, ‘sent to warn us, as
Jonah was sent to the Ninevites.’ ‘0, he is an angel
sent from heaven to instruct this great city,’ said another,
‘for no man ever uttered truths so sublime before.’ The
good people of Auchtermuchty were in perfect raptures
with the preacher who had thus sent them to hell by
the slump, tag, rag and bobtaill Nothing in the world
delights a truly religious people so much, as consigning
them to eternal damnation. They wondered after the
O


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 211
unsophisticated tale of the black corbies, he was only
derided. The great preacher appeared once more, and
went through his two discourses with increased energy
and approbation. All who heard him were amazed, and
many of them went into ﬁts, writhing and foaming in a
state of the most horrid agitation. Robin Ruthven sat
on the outskirts of the great assembly, listening with the
rest, and perceived what they, in the height of their
enthusiasm, perceived not—the ruinous tendency of the
tenets so sublimely inculcated. Robin kenned the voice
of his friend the corby-craw again, and was sure he could
not be wrang: sae when public worship was ﬁnished, a,
the elders an’ a’ the gentry ﬂocked about the great
preacher, as he stood on the green brae in the sight of
the hale congregation, an’ a’ war alike anxious to pay him
some mark 0’ respect. Robin Ruthven came in amang
the thrang, to try to effect what he had promised; and,
with the greatest readiness and simplicity, just took hand
0’ the side an’ wide gown, an’ in sight of a’ present, held
it aside as high as the preacher’s knee, and behold there
was a pair 0’ cloven feet! The auld thief was fairly
catched in the very height 0’ his proud conquest, an’ put
down by an auld. carl. He could feign nae mair, but
gnashing on Robin wi’ his teeth, he darted into the air
like a ﬁery dragon, an’ keust a reid rainbow ower the taps
o’ the Lowmonds.
‘ “ A’ the auld wives an’ weavers 0’ Auchtermuchty fell
down ﬂat wi’ affright, and betook them to their prayers
aince again, for they saw the dreadfu’ danger they had
escapit, an’ frae that day to this it is a hard matter to
gar an Auchtermuchty man listen to a serman at a’, an’
a harder ane still to gar him applaud ane, for he thinks


212 ‘ The Private Memoirs ar
aye that he sees the cloven foot peeping out frae aneath
ilka sentence.
“‘ Now, this is a true story, my man,” quo the auld
wife; “an’ whenever you are doubtfu’ o’ a man, take auld
Robin Ruthven’s plan, an’ look for the cloven foot, for it’s
a thing that winna weel hide; an’ it appears whiles where
ane wadna think o’t. It will keek out frae aneath the
parson’s gown, the lawyer’s wig, and the Cameronian’s
blue bannet; but still there is a gouden rule whereby to
detect it, an’ that never, never fails.” The auld witch
didna gie me the rule, an’ though I hae heard tell o’t
often an’ often, shame fa’ me an’ I ken what it is! But
ye will ken it well, an’ it would be nane the waur of a
trial on some 0’ your friends, maybe; for they say there is
a certain gentleman seen walking wi’ you whiles, that
wherever he sets his foot, the grass withers as gin it war
scoudered wi’ a het ern. His presence be about us !
What’s the matter wi’ you, master? Are ye gaun to take
the calm o’ the stamock again? ’
The truth is, that the clown’s absurd story, with the
still more ridiculous application, made me sick at heart a
second time. It was not because I thought my illustrious
friend was the devil, or that I took a fool’s idle tale as a
counterbalance to divine revelation, that had assured me
of my justiﬁcation in the sight of God before the ex-
istence of time; but it gave me a view of my own state, at
which I shuddered, as indeed, I now always did, when the
image of my devoted friend and ruler presented itself to
my mind. I often communed with my heart on this, and
wondered how a connection, that had the well~being of
mankind solely in view, could be productive of fruits so
bitter. I then went to try my works by the Saviour’s
golden rule, as my servant had put it into my head to do;


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 213
and, behold, not one of them would stand the test. I had
shed blood on a ground on which I could not admit that
any man had a right to shed mine; and I began to doubt
the motives of my adviser once more, not that they were
intentionally bad, but that his was some great mind led
astray by enthusiasm, .or some overpowering passion.
He seemed to comprehend every one of these motions
of my heart, for his manner towards me altered every
day. It ﬁrst became anything but agreeable, then
supercilious, and ﬁnally, intolerable; so that I resolved
to shake him off, cost what it would, even though I
should be reduced to beg my bread in a foreign land.
To do it at home was impossible as he held my life in
his hands, to sell it whenever he had a mind; and be-
sides, his ascendancy over me was as complete as that of
a huntsman over his dogs. I was even so weak, as, the
next time I met with him, to look stedfastly at his foot,
to see if it was cloven into two hoofs. It was the foot of a
gentleman, in every respect, so far as appearances went,
but the form of his counsels was somewhat equivocal,
and if not double, they were amazingly crooked.
But, if I had taken my measures to abscond and ﬂy
from my native place, in order to free myself of this tor-
menting, intolerant, and bloody reformer, he had likewise
taken his to expel me, or throw me into the hands of
justice. It seems that about this time; I was haunted by
some spies connected with my late father and brother, of
whom the mistress of the former was one. My brother’s
death had been witnessed by two individuals ; indeed, I
always had an impression that it was witnessed by more
than one, having some faint recollection of hearing
voices and challenges close beside me; and this woman
had searched about until she found these people; but,


214 The Private Memoirs a
as I shrewdly suspected, not without the assistance of
the only person in my secret,—-my own warm and
devoted friend. I say this, because I found that he had
them concealed in the neighbourhood, and then took me
again and again where I was fully exposed to their view,
without being aware. One time in particular, on
pretence of gratifying my revenge on that base woman,
he knew so well where she lay concealed, that he led me
to her, and left me to the mercy of two viragos, who had
very nigh taken my life. My time of residence at
Dalcastle was wearing to a crisis. I could no longer live
with my tyrant, who haunted me like my shadow; and
besides, it seems there were proofs of murder leading
against me from all quarters. Of part of these I deemed
myself quite free : but the world deemed otherwise ; and
how the matter would have gone, God only knows, for
the case never having undergone a judicial trial, I do not.
It perhaps, however, behoves me here to relate all that I
know of it, and it is simply this :
On the ﬁrst of June 1712, (well may I remember the
day) I was sitting locked in my secret chamber, in a state
of the utmost despondency, revolving in my mind what I
ought to do to be free of my persecutors, and wishing
myself a worm, or a moth, that I might be crushed and
at rest, when behold Samuel entered, with eyes like to
start out of his head, exclaiming, ‘For God’s sake, master,
ﬂy and hide yourself, for your mother’s found; an’ as sure
as you’re a living soul, the blame is gaun to fa’ on you ! ’
‘ My mother found 1 ’ said I. ‘ And pray, where has she
been all this while?’ In the meantime I was terribly
discomposed at the thoughts of her return.
‘ Been, sir ? Been? Why she has been where ye pat
her, it seems—lying buried in the sands o’ the linn. I


218
The Private Memoirs and
was any inherent virtue in these robes of his, as he had
suggested, this was one of their effects, that they turned
my heart towards that which was evil, horrible and dis-
gustful.
I mixed with the mob to hear what they were saying.
Every tongue was engaged in loading me with the most
opprobrious epithets! One called me a monster of
nature; another an incarnate devil; and another a
creature made to be cursed in time and eternity. I
retired from them, and winded my way southward,
comforting myself with the assurance, that so mankind
had used and persecuted the greatest fathers and apostles
of the Christian Church, and that their vile opprobrium
could not alter the counsels of heaven concerning me.
On going over that rising ground called Dorington
Moor, I could not help turning round and taking a look
of Dalcastle. I had little doubt that it would be my
last look, and nearly as little ambition that it should
not. I thought how high my hopes of happiness and
advancement had been on entering that mansion, and
taking possession of its rich and extensive domains,
and how miserably I had been disappointed. On the
contrary, I had experienced nothing but chagrin, disgust,
and terror; and I now consoled myself with the hope
that I should henceforth shake myself free of the chains
of my great tormentor, and for that privilege was I
willing to encounter any earthly distress. I could not
help perceiving, that I was now on a path which was
likely to lead me into a species of distress hitherto
unknown, and hardly dreamed of by me, and that
was total destitution. For all the riches I had been
possessed of a few hours previous to this, I found that
here I was turned out of my lordly possessions without
\
,il-
'1'


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 219
a single merk, or the power of lifting and commanding
the smallest sum, without being thereby discovered and
seized. Had it been possible for me to have escaped in
my own clothes, I had a considerable sum secreted in
these, but by the sudden change, I was left without a
coin for present necessity. But I had hope in heaven,
knowing that the just man would not be left destitute ;
and that though many troubles surrounded him, he
would atlast be set free from them all. I was possessed
of strong and brilliant parts, and a liberal education;
and though I had somehow unaccountably suffered my
theological qualiﬁcations to fall into desuetude, since
my acquaintance with the ablest and most rigid of all
theologians, I had nevertheless hopes that, by preaching
up redemption by grace, pre-ordination, and eternal pur-
pose, I should yet be enabled to beneﬁt mankind in some
country, and rise to high distinction.
These were some of the thoughts by which I consoled
myself as I posted on my way southward, avoiding the
towns and villages, and falling into the cross ways that
led from each of the great roads passing east and west,
to another. I lodged the ﬁrst night in the house of a
country weaver, into which I stepped at a late hour,
quite overcome with hunger and fatigue, having travelled
not less than thirty miles from my late home. The man
received me ungraciously, telling me of a gentleman’s
house at no great distance, and of an inn a little farther
away; but I said I delighted more in the society of a man
like him, than that of any gentleman of the land, for my
concerns were with the poor of this world, it being easier
for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a
rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven. The
weaver’s wife, who sat with a child on her knee, and had


220 The Private Memoirs and
not hitherto opened her mouth, hearing me speak in that
serious and religious style, stirred up the ﬁre, with her
one hand; then drawing a chair near it, she said, ‘Come
awa, honest lad, in by here, sin’ it be sae that you belong
to Him wha gies us a’ that we hae, it is but right that
you should share a part. You are a stranger, it is true,
but them that winna entertain a stranger will never
entertain an angel unawares.’
I never was apt to be taken with the simplicity of
nature; in general I despised it; but, owing to my
circumstances at the time, I was deeply affected by the
manner of this poor woman’s welcome. The weaver
continued in a churlish mood throughout the evening,
apparently dissatisﬁed with what his wife had done in
entertaining me, and spoke to her in a manner so crusty
that I thought proper to rebuke him, for the woman was
comely in her person and virtuous in her conversation; but
the weaver her husband was large of make, ill-favoured,
and pestilent; therefore did I take him severely to task,
for the tenor of his conduct; but the man was froward,
and answered me rudely, with sneering and derision, and,
in the height of his caprice, he said to his wife, ‘Whan
focks are sae keen of a chance 0’ entertaining angels,
gudewife, it wad maybe be worth their while to tak tent
what kind 0’ angels they are. It wadna wonder me
vera muckle an ye had entertained your friend the deil
the night, for aw thought aw fand a saur o’ reek an’ brim-
stane about him. He’s nane o’ the best 0’ angels, and
focks winna hae muckle credit by entertaining him.’
Certainly, in the assured state I was in, I had as little
reason to be alarmed at mention being made of the devil
as any person on earth: of late, however, I felt that the
reverse was the case, and that any allusion to my great


_ Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 221
enemy, moved me exceedingly. The weaver’s speech
had such an effect on me, that both he and his wife were
alarmed at my looks. The latter thought I was angry,
and chided her husband gently for his rudeness; but the
weaver himself rather seemed to be conﬁrmed in his
opinion that I was the devil, for he looked round like
a startled roebuck, and immediately betook him to the
family Bible.
I know not whether it was on purpose to prove my
identity or not, but Ithink he was going to desire me
either to read a certain portion of Scripture that he had I
sought out, or to make family Worship, had not the
conversation at that instant taken another turn; for the
weaver, not knowing how to address me, abruptly asked
my name, as he was about to put the Bible into my hands.
Never having considered myself in the light of a male-
factor, but rather as a champion in the cause of truth
and ﬁnding myself perfectly safe under my disguise, I had
never once thought of the utility of changing my name,
and when the man asked me, I hesitated; but being
compelled to say something, I said my name was Cowan.
The man stared at me, and then at his wife, with a look
that spoke a knowledge of something alarming or
mysterious.
‘Hal Cowan?’ said he. ‘That’s most extrordinar!
Not Colwan, I hope?’
‘No: Cowan is my sirname,’ said I. ‘But why not
Colwan, there being so little difference in the sound? ’
‘I was feared ye might be that waratch that the deil
has taen the possession 0’, an’ eggit him on to kill baith
his father an’ his mother, his only brother, an’ his sweet-
heart,’ said he; ‘an’ to say the truth, I’m no that sure
about you yet, for I see you’re gaun wi’ arms on ye.’


222 The Private Memoirs and
‘Not I, honest man,’ said I; ‘I carry no arms; a man
conscious of his innocence and uprightness of heart, needs
not to carry arms in his defence now.’
‘Ay, ay, maister,’ said he; ‘an’ pray what div ye ca’
this bit windlestrae that’s appearing here?’ With that
he pointed to something on the inside of the breast of
my frock-coat. I looked at it, and there certainly was
the gilded haft of a poniard, the same weapon I had seen
and handled before, and which I knew my illustrious
companion always carried about with him; but till that
moment I knew not that I was in possession of it. I
drew it out: a more dangerous or insidious looking
weapon could not be conceived. The weaver and his
wife were both frightened, the latter in particular; and
she being my friend, and I dependent on their hospi-
tality, for that night, I said, ‘I declare I knew not that I
carried this small rapier, which has been in my coat by
chance, and not by any design of mine. But lest you
should think that I meditate any mischief to any under
this roof, I give it into your hands, requesting of you to
lock it by till to-morrow, or when I shall next want it.’
The woman seemed rather glad to get hold of it ; and
taking it from me, she went into a kind of pantry out of
my sight, and locked the weapon up; and then the
discourse went on.
‘There cannot be such a thing in reality,’ said I, ‘as
the story you were mentioning just now, of a man whose
name resembles mine.’
‘It’s likely that you ken a wee better about the story
than I do, maister,’ said he, ‘suppose you do leave the
L out of your name. An’ yet I think sic a waratch, an’
a murderer, wad hae taen a name wi’ some gritter dif-
ference in the sound. But the story is just that true,


\Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 225
obliged to call out lustily for assistance. The weaver
came half naked, unlocked the door, and, setting in his
head and long neck, accosted me thus :
‘What now, Mr Satan? What for are ye roaring
that gate? Are you faun inna little hell, instead 0’ the
big muckle ane? Deil be in your reistit trams! What
for have ye abscondit yoursel’ into ma leddy’s wab for?’
‘Friend, I beg your pardon,’ said I; ‘I wanted to be
at the light, and have somehow unfortunately involved
myself in the intricacies of your web, from which I
cannot get clear without doing you a great injury. Pray,
do lend your experienced hand to extricate me.’
‘May aw the perils 0’ damnation light on your silly
snout, an I dinna estricat ye weel enough! Ye ditit,
donnart, deil’s burd that ye be! what made ye gang
howkin in there to be a poor man’s ruin? Come out,
ye vile rag-of-o-mufﬁn, or I gar ye come out wi’ mair
shame and disgrace, an’ fewer haill banes in your body.’
My feet had slipped down through the double warp-
ings of a web, and not being able to reach the ground
with them (there being a small pit below), I rode upon a
number of yielding threads, and, there being nothing else
that I could reach, to extricate myself was impossible. I
was utterly powerless: and besides, the yarn and cords
hurt me very much. For all that, the destructive weaver
seized a loomspoke, and began a-beating me most un-
mercifully, while, entangled as I was, I could do nothing
but shout aloud for mercy, or assistance, whichever
chanced to be within hearing. The latter at length
made its appearance, in the form of the weaver’s wife, in
the same state of deshabille with himself, who instantly
interfered, and that most sternuously, on my behalf.
Before her arrival, however, I had made a desperate
P


228 The Private Memoirs and
dream has been true! The Lord judge between thee
and me; but, in His name, I charge you to depart out 0’
this house; an’, gin it be your will, dinna tak the braid-
side o’t w’ye, but gang quietly out at the door wi’ your
face foremost. Wife, let nought 0’ this enchanter’s
remain i’ the house, to be a curse an’ a snare to us; gang
an’ bring him his gildit weapon, and may the Lord pro-
tect a’ his ain against its hellish and deadly point ?’
The wife went to seek my poniard, trembling so
excessively that she could hardly walk, and shortly after,
we heard a feeble scream from the pantry. The weapon
had disappeared with the clothes, though under double
lock and key ; and the terror of the good people having
now reached a disgusting extremity, I thought proper to
make a sudden retreat, followed by the weaver’s ana-
themas.
My state both of body and mind was now truly
deplorable. I was hungry, wounded, and lame ; an
outcast and a vagabond in society; my life sought after
with avidity, and all for doing that to which I was pre-
destined by Him who foreordains whatever comes to pass.
I knew not whither to betake me. I had proposed going
into England, and there making some use of the classical
education I had received, but my lameness rendered this
impracticable for the present. I was therefore obliged
to turn my face towards Edinburgh, where I was little
known—where concealment was more practicable than
by skulking in the country, and where I might turn my
mind to something that was great and good. I had a
little money, both Scots and English, now in my p05-
session, but not one friend in the whole world on whom I
could rely. One devoted friend, it is true, I had, but he
was become my greatest terror. To escape from him, I


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 229
now felt that I would willingly travel to the farthest
corners of the world, and be subjected to every depriva-
tion; but after the certainty of what had taken place
last night, after I had travelled thirty miles by secret
and bye-ways, I saw not how escape from him was
possible.
Miserable, forlorn, and dreading every person that I
saw, either behind or before me, I hasted on towards
Edinburgh, taking all the bye and unfrequented paths;
and the third night after I left the weaver’s house, I
reached the West Port, without meeting with anything
remarkable. Being exceedingly fatigued and lame, I
took lodgings in the ﬁrst house I entered, and for these
I was to pay two groats a-week, and to board and
sleep with a young man who wanted a companion to
make his rent easier. I liked this; having found from
experience, that the great personage who had attached
himself to me, and was now become my greatest terror
among many surrounding evils, generally haunted me
when I was alone, keeping aloof from all other society.
My fellow lodger came home in the evening, and was
glad at my coming. His name was Linton, and I
changed mine to Elliot. He was a ﬂippant unstable
being, one to whom nothing appeared a difﬁculty, in his
own estimation, but who could effect very little, after all.
He was what is called by some a compositor, in the
Queen’s printing house, then conducted by a Mr James
Watson. In the course of our conversation that night,
I told him that I was a ﬁrst-rate classical scholar, and
would gladly turn my attention to some business where-
in my education might avail me something; and that
there was nothing would delight me so much as an en-
gagement in the Queen’s printing oﬁ'ice. Linton made


232 The Private Memoirs and
was wrought off; and I never shall forget how my heart
exulted when at the printing house this day, I saw what
numbers of my works were to go abroad among mankind,
and I determined with myself that I would not put the
Border name of Elliot, which I had assumed, to the work.


Thus far have my History and Confessions been carried.
I must now furnish my Christian readers with a key
to the process, management, and winding up of the
whole matterl; which I propose, by the assistance of God
to limit to a very few pages.
Charters, [uly 27, 1712.—My hopes and prospects are
a wreck. My precious journal is lost ! consigned to the
ﬂames ! My enemy hath found me out, and there is no
hope of peace or rest for me on this side the grave.
In the beginning of the last week, my fellow lodger
came home, running in a great panic, and told me a story
of the devil having appeared twice in the printing house,
assisting the workmen at the printing of my book, and
that some of them had been frightened out of their wits.
That the story was told to Mr Watson, who till that time
had never paid any attention to the treatise, but who,
out of curiosity, began and read a part of it, and there-
upon ﬂew into a great rage, called my work a medley of
lies and blasphemy, and ordered the whole to be con-
signed to the ﬂames, blaming his foreman, and all
connected with the press, for letting a work go so far,
that was enough to bring down the vengeance of heaven
on the concern.
If ever I shed tears through perfect bitterness of spirit
it was at that time, but I hope it was more for the


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 2 35
‘Then I can tell you, lad, it has been something neither
good nor canny,’ said he : ‘it’s no for naething that our
horses are snorking that gate.’
For the ﬁrst time, I remarked that the animals were
snorting and rearing as if they wished to break through
the house. The man called to them by their names, and
ordered them to be quiet ; but they raged still the more
furiously. He then roused his drowsy companions, who
were alike alarmed at the panic of the horses, all of them
declaring that they had never seen either Mause or Jolly
start in their lives before. My bed-fellow and another
then ventured down the ladder, and I heard one of them
saying, ‘Lord be wi’ us! What can be i’ the house?
The sweat’s rinning off the poor beasts like water.’
They agreed to sally out together, and if possible to
reach the kitchen and bring a light. I was glad at this,
but not so much so when I heard the one man saying to
the other, in a whisper, ‘I wish that stranger man may be
canny enough.’
‘Gude kens !’ said the other: ‘It doesnae look unco
weel.’
The lad in the other bed, hearing this, set up his head
in manifest affright as the other two departed for the
kitchen ; and, I believe, he would have been glad to have
been in their company. This lad was next the ladder, at.
which I was extremely glad, for had he not been there,
the world should not have induced me to wait the return
of these two men. They were not well gone, before I
heard another distinctly enter the stable, and come
towards the ladder. The lad who was sitting up in his
bed, intent on the watch, called out, ‘Wha’s that there?
Walker, is that you? Purdie, I say, is it you?’
The darkling intruder paused for a few moments, and


238 The Private Memoirs and
glen, whom should I meet full in the face, but the very
being in all the universe of God I would the most gladly
have shunned. I had no power to ﬂy from him, neither
durst I, for the spirit within me, accuse him of falsehood,
and renounce his fellowship. I stood before him like a
condemned criminal, staring him in the face, ready to be
winded, twisted, and tormented as be pleased. He re-
garded me with a sad and solemn look. How changed
was now that majestic countenance, to one of haggard
despair—changed in all save the extraordinary likeness to
my late brother, a resemblance which misfortune and
despair tended only to heighten. There were no kind
greetings passed between us at meeting, like those which
pass between the men of the world; he looked on me
with eyes that froze the currents of my blood, but spoke
not, till I assumed as much courage as to articulate—
‘You here! I hope you have brought me tidings of
comfort ?’
‘Tidings of despair ! ’ said he. ‘But such tidings as the
timid and the ungrateful deserve, and have reason to
expect. You are an outlaw, and a vagabond in your
country, and a high reward is offered for your apprehen-
sion. The enraged populace have burnt your house, and
all that is within it; and the farmers on the land bless
themselves at being rid of you. So fare it with everyone,
who puts his hand to the great work of man’s restoration
to freedom and draweth back, contemning the light that
is within him! Your enormities caused me to leave
you to yourself for a season, and you see what the issue
has been. You have given some evil ones power over
you, who longed to devour you, both soul and body, and
it has required all my power and inﬂuence to save you.
Had it not been for my hand, you had been torn in
ti“—


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 2 39
pieces last night ; but for once I prevailed. We must
leave this’land forthwith, for here there is neither peace,
safety, nor comfort for us. Do you now and here pledge
yourself to one who has so often saved your life and has
put his own at stake to do so? Do you pledge yourself
that you will henceforth be guided by my counsel and
follow me whithersoever I choose to lead.’
‘I have always‘been swayed by your counsels,’ said I
‘and for your sake, principally, am I sorry that all our
measures have proved abortive. But I hope still to be
useful in my native isle, therefore let me plead that your
highness will abandon a poor despised and outcast wretch
to his fate, and betake you to your realms, where your
presence cannot but be greatly wanted.’
‘Would that I could do so !’ said he, wofully. ‘But
to talk of that is to talk of an impossibility. I am wedded
to you so closely that I feel as if I were the same person.
Our essences are one, our bodies and spirits being united,
so that I am drawn towards you as by magnetism, and
wherever you are, there must my presence be with you.’
Perceiving how this assurance affected me, he began
to chide to me most bitterly for my ingratitude; and
then he assumed such looks, that it was impossible for
me longer to bear them; therefore, I staggered out the
way, begging and beseeching of him to give me up to
my fate, and hardly knowing what I said ; for it struck
me, that with all his assumed appearance of misery and
wretchedness there were traits of exultation in his
hideous countenance, manifesting a secret and inward
joy at my utter despair.
It was long before I durst look over my shoulder, but
when I did so, I perceived this ruined and debased
potentate coming slowly on the same path, and I prayed


246 The Private Memoirs and
I had of late been inured; but they kept at a distance,
and I was soon persuaded that there was a power pro-
tected that house superior to those that contended for, or
had the mastery over me. Oveijoyed at ﬁnding such an
asylum, I remained in the humble cot. This is the third
day I have lived under the roof, freed of my hellish
assailants, spending my time in prayer, and writing out
this my journal, which I have fashioned to stick in with
my printed work, and to which I intend to add portions
while I remain in this pilgrimage state which, I ﬁnd too
well, cannot be long.
August 3, 1712.—This morning the hind has brought
me word from Redesdale, whither he had been for coals,
that a stranger gentleman had been traversing that
country, making the most earnest inquiries after me, or
one of the same appearance ; and from the description
that he brought of this stranger, I could easily perceive
who it was. Rejoicing that my tormentor has lost traces
of me for once, I am making haste to leave my asylum,
on pretence of following this stranger, but in reality to
conceal myself still more completely from his search.
Perhaps this may be the last sentence ever I am destined
to write. If so, farewell Christian reader ! May God
grant to thee a happier destiny than has been allotted to
me here on earth, and the same assurance of acceptance
above! Amen.
Ault-Riglz, August 24, r712.—-Here am I, set down on
the open moor to add one sentence more to my woful
journal ; and then, farewell all beneath the sun !
On leaving the hind’s cottage on the Border, I hasted
to the north-west, because in that quarter I perceived the
highest and wildest hills before me. As I crossed the
mountains above Hawick, I exchanged clothes with a


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 247
poor homely shepherd, whom I found lying on a hillside,
singing to himself some woful love ditty. He was glad
of the change, and proud of his saintly apparel; and I
was no less delighted with mine, by which I now supposed
myself completely disguised; and I found moreover that in
this garb of a common shepherd I was made welcome in
every house. I slept the ﬁrst night in a farm-house nigh
to the church of Roberton, without hearing or seeing
aught extraordinary; yet I observed next morning that
all the servants kept aloof from me, and regarded me
with looks of aversion. The next night I came to this
house, where the farmer engaged me as a shepherd; and
ﬁnding him a kind, worthy, and religious man, I accepted
of his terms with great gladness. I had not, however,
gone many times to the sheep, before all the rest of the
shepherds told my master that I knew nothing about
herding, and begged of him to dismiss me. He perceived
too well the truth of their intelligence; but being much
taken with my learning, and religious conversation, he
would not put me away, but set me to herd his cattle.
It was lucky for me, that before I came here, a report
had prevailed, perhaps for an age, that this farm-house
was haunted at certain seasons by a ghost. I say it was
lucky for me, for I had not been in it many days before
the same appalling noises began to prevail around me
about midnight, often continuing till near the dawning.
Still, they kept aloof, and without-doors ; for this gentle-
man’s house, like the cottage I was in formerly, seemed
to be a sanctuary from all demoniacal power. He
appears to be a good man and a just, and mocks at the
idea of supernatural agency, and he either does not hear
these persecuting spirits, or will not acknowledge it,
though of late he appears much perturbed.


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 249
eternal counsel, or in the smallest degree alter or extenu-
ate one event which was decreed before the foundations
of the world were laid. He said he had watched over
me with the greatest anxiety, but perceiving my rooted
aversion towards him he had forborne troubling me with
his presence. But now, seeing that I was certainly to
be driven from my sanctuary that night, and that there
would be a number of infernals watching to make a prey
of my body, he came to caution me not to despair, for
that he would protect me at all risks, if the power
remained with him. He then repeated an ejaculatory
prayer, which I was to pronounce, if in great extremity.
I objected to the words as equivocal, and susceptible of
being rendered in a meaning perfectly dreadful ; but he
reasoned against this, and all reasoning with him is to no
purpose. He said he did not ask me to repeat the‘words
unless greatly straitened; and that I saw his strength
and power giving way, and when perhaps nothing else
could save me.
The dreaded hour of night arrived; and as he said, I
was expelled from the family residence, and ordered to a
byre or cow-house, that stood parallel with the dwelling-
house behind, where on a divot loft, my humble bedstead
stood, and the cattle grunted and puffed below me.
How unlike the splendid halls of Dalcastle ? And to what
I am now reduced, let the reﬂecting reader judge. Lord,
thou knowest all that I have done for thy cause on earth 1
Why then art thou laying thy hand so sore upon me?
Why hast thou set me as a butt of thy malice? But
thy will must be done; thou wilt repay me in a better
world. Amen.
September 8.—My ﬁrst night of trial in this place is
overpast! \Vould that it were the last that I should


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. _ 2 5!
ance is past, and now my fate is inevitable—Amen for
ever! I will now seal up my little book and conceal it ;
and cursed be he who trieth to alter or amend !
END OF THE MEMOIR.
YVHAT can this work be? Sure, you will say, it must be
an allegory; or (as the writer calls it) a religious PARABLE,
showing the dreadful danger of self-righteousness? I
cannot tell. Attend to the sequel; which is a thing so
extraordinary, so unprecedented, and so far out of the
common course of human events, that if there were not
hundreds of living witnesses to attest the truth of it, I
would not bid any rational being believe it.
In the ﬁrst place take the following extract from an
authentic letter, published in Blackwood’s Alagazzize,
for August, 1823.
‘On the top of a wild height called Cowan’s croft where
the lands of three proprietors meet all at one point, there
has been for long and many years the grave of a suicide
marked out by a stone standing at the head, and another
at the feet. Often have I stood musing over it myself,
when a shepherd on one of the farms, of which it formed
the extreme boundary, and thinking what could induce
a young man, who had scarcely reached the prime of
life, to brave his Maker, and rush into his presence by an
act of his own erring hand, and one so unnatural and
preposterous. But it never once occurred to me, as an
object of curiosity, to dig up the mouldering bones of the
culprit, which I considered as the most revolting of all
objects. The thing was, however, done last month, and


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 2 53
a strange frightful position at the side of one of Eldin-
hope hay-ricks. The driver’s attention was riveted on
this strange uncouth ﬁgure, and as the drove road passed
at no great distance from the spot, he ﬁrst called, but
receiving no answer, he went up to the spot, and behold
it was the above-mentioned young man, who had hung
himself in the hay rope that was tying down the rick.
‘This was accounted a great wonder, and every one
said, if the devil had not assisted him it was impossible
the thing could have been done; for in general, these
ropes are so brittle, being made of green hay, that they
will scargely bear to be bound over the rick. And the
more to horrify the good people of this neighbourhood,
the driver said, when he ﬁrst came in view, he could
almost give his oath that he saw two people busily en-
gaged at the hay-rick, going round it and round it, and
he thought they were dressing it.
‘If this asseveration approximated at all to truth, it
makes this evident at least, that the unfortunate young
man had hanged himself after the man with the lambs
came in view, he was, however, quite dead when he cut him
down. He had fastened two of the old hay-ropes at the
bottom of the rick on one side, (indeed they are all
fastened so when ﬁrst laid on), so that he had nothing
to do but to loosen two of the ends on the other side.
These he had tied in a knot round his neck, and then
slackening his knees, and letting himself down gradually,
till the hay-rope bore all his weight, he had contrived to
put an end to his existence in that way. Now the fact
is, that if you try all the ropes that are thrown over all
the outﬁeld hay-ricks in Scotland, there is not one among
a thousand of them will hang a colley dog ; so that the


254 The Private Memoirs and
manner of this wretch’s death was rather a singular
circumstance.
‘Early next morning, Mr Anderson’s servants went
reluctantly away, and taking an old blanket with them
for a winding-sheet, they rolled up the body of the
deceased, ﬁrst in his own plaid, letting the hay-rope still
remain about his neck, and then rolling the old blanket
over all, they bore the loathed remains away to the
distance of three miles or so, on spokes, to the top of
Cowan’s Croft, at the very point where the Duke of
Buccleuch’s land, the Laird of Drummelzier’s, and Lord
Napier’s meet, and there they buried him, with all that
he had on and about him, silver knife and fork and all to-
gether. Thus far went tradition, and no one ever dis-
puted one jot of the disgusting oral tale. .
‘A nephew of that Mr Anderson’s who was with the
hapless youth that day he died, says, that, as far as he can
gather from the relations of friends that he remembers,
and of that same uncle in particular, it is one hundred
and ﬁve years next month (that is September, 1823),
since that event happened; and I think it likely that
this gentleman’s information is correct. But sundry
other people, much older than he, whom I have consulted, I
pretend that it is six or seven years more. They say
they have heard that Mr James Anderson was then a boy
ten years of age ; that he lived to an old age, upwards of
fourscore, and it is two-and-forty years since he died.
Whichever way it may be, it was about that period some
way, of that there is no doubt.’ . . . .
‘It so happened, that two young men, William Shiel
and W. Sword, were out, on an adjoining height, this
summer, casting peats, and it came into their heads
to open this grave in the wilderness, and see if there


Confessions of a Justiﬁed Sinner. 259
,1
market ground. We went into a shepherd’s cot to get
a drink of milk, when I read to our guide Mr Hogg’s
description, asking him if he thought it correct ? He said
there was hardly a bit o’t correct, for the grave was not
on the hill of Cowan’s Croft, nor yet on the point where
three lairds’ lands met, but on the top of a hill called the
F aw Law, where there was no land that was not the Duke
of Buccleuch’s within a quarter of a mile. He added that
it was a wonder how the poet could be mistaken there,
who once herded the very ground where the grave is,
and saw both hills from his own window. Mr L w
testiﬁed great surprise at such a singular blunder, as also
how the body came not to be buried at the meeting of
three or four lairds’ lands, which had always been
customary in the south of Scotland. Our guide said he
had always heard it reported, that the Eltrive men, with
Mr David Anderson at their head, had risen before day
on the Monday morning, it having been on the Sabbath
day that the man put down himself; and that they set
out with the intention of burying him on Cowan’s Croft,
where three marches met at a point. But it having been
an invariable rule to bury such lost sinners before the
rising of the sun, these ﬁve men were overtaken by day-
light, as they passed the house of Berry-Knowe ; and by
the time they reached the top of the F aw Law, the sun
was beginning to skair the east. On this they laid down
the body, and digged a deep grave with all expedition;
but when they had done, it was too short, and the body
being stiff, it would not go down, on which Mr David
Anderson looking to the east, and perceiving that the
sun would be upon them in a few minutes, set his foot
on the suicide’s brow, and tramped down his head into
the grave with his iron heeled shoe, until his nose and


264 The Private Memoirs and
thought of returning it into the grave, if he could have
made out but a line or two, to have seen what was its
tendency.
‘ Grave, man ! ’ exclaimed L——w, who speaks excellent
strong broad Scots : ‘ My truly, but ye grave weel !
I wad esteem the contents 0’ that spleuchan as the most
precious treasure. I’ll tell you what it is, sir : I hae often
wondered how it was that this man’s corpse has been
miraculously preserved frae decay, a hunder times longer
than ony other body’s, or than even a tanner’s But now
I could wager a guinea, it ‘has been for the preservation
0’ that little book. And Lord kens what may be in’t!
It will maybe reveal some mystery that mankind disna
ken naething about yet.’
‘If there be any mysteries in it,’ returned the other
‘ it is not for your handling, my dear friend, who are too
much taken up about mysteries already.’ And with
these words he presented the mysterious pamphlet to me.
With very little trouble, save that of a thorough drying,
I unrolled it all with ease, and found the very tract which
I have ventured to lay before the public, part of it in small
bad print, and the remainder in manuscript. The title
page is written, and is as follows :
THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS
AND CONFESSIONS
OF A JUSTIFIED SINNER:
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
deeli Certa Merces.
And, alongst the head, it is the same as given in the
present edition of the work. I altered the title to
A Self-justiﬁed Sinner, but my booksellers did not
_‘ "_ -___


Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner. 265
approve of it; and there being a curse pronounced by
the writer on him that should dare to alter or amend, I
have let it stand as it is. Should it be thought to attach
discredit to any received principle of our Church, I am
blameless. The printed part ends at page 251, and the
rest is in a ﬁne old hand, extremely small and close. I
have ordered the printer to .procure a fac-simile of it, to
be bound in with the volume.
With regard to the work itself, I dare not venture a
judgment, for I do not understand it. I believe no
person, man or woman, will ever peruse it with the
same attention that I have done, and yet I confess that
I do not comprehend the writer’s drift. It is certainly
impossible that these scenes could ever have occurred,
that he describes as having himself transacted. I think
it may be possible that he had some hand in the death
of his brother, and yet I am disposed greatly to doubt it ;
and the numerous distorted traditions, etc., which remain
of that event, may be attributable to the work having been
printed and burnt, and of course the story known to all
the printers, with their families and gossips. That the
young Laird of Dalcastle came by a violent death, there
remains no doubt ; but that this wretch slew him, there is
to me a good deal. However, allowing this to have been
the case, I account all the rest either dreaming or mad-
ness ; or, as he says to Mr Watson, a religious parable, on
purpose to illustrate something scarcely tangible, but to
which he seems to have attached great weight. Were
the relation at all consistent with reason, it corresponds
so minutely with traditionary facts, that it could scarcely
have missed to have been received as authentic; but in'
this day, and with the present generation, it will not go
down, that a man should be daily tempted by the devil,


266 I Confessions of a justiﬁed Sinner.
in the semblance of a fellow-creature ; and at length
lured to self-destruction, in the hopes that this same
ﬁend and tormentor was to suffer and fall along with
him. It was a bold theme for an allegory, and would
have suited that age well had it been taken up by one
fully qualiﬁed for the task, which this writer was not.
In short, we must either conceive him not only the
greatest fool, but the greatest wretch, on whom was ever
stamped the form of humanity; or, that he was a
religious maniac, who wrote and wrote about a deluded
creature, till he arrived at that height .of madness, that
he believed himself the very object whom he had been
all along describing. And in order to escape from an
ideal tormentor, committed that act for which, according
to the tenets he embraced, there was no remission, and
which consigned his memory and his name to everlasting
detestation.
THE END
J. MILLER AND SON, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH


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