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BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AmUOn OF ■• IRADITIONS OK EDINBURGH.' "HIMOFIES OF THE REBELLIONS IN SCOTLAND,' &•• i£mf)cUi8f)clJ toitf) splcntiili ants autf)cntic ^ovtvattg. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. in. GLASGOW: BLACKIE & SON, 8, EAST CLYDE STREET; AND 5, SOUTH COLLEGE STREET, EDINBURGH ; W. CURRY, JUN., & CO., DUBLIN; AND SIMPKIN & MARSHALL, LONDON. MDCCCXXXV. GLASGOW: PRINTED BY GEORGE BROOKMAN. cr COS -6- /S35 SCOTTISH BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. H HA3IILT0N, (the Right Honourable Sir) William, British ambassador at the court of Naples, and celebrated for his patronage of the fine arts, and his inves- tigations on the subject of volcanoes, was born in 1730. Neither biographers nor contemporary periodical writers have fui-nished any account of his education or early habits ; all that is commemorated regarding him previous to the com- mencement of his public life, is, that his family, a branch of the noble house of Hamilton, was in very reduced circumstances. He was in the most difficult of all situations — poor, highborn, and a Scotsman. " I was condemned," to use his own words, " to make my way in the world, with an illustrious name and a thousand pounds." Like many of his countrymen so situated, he had a choice betwixt semi-starvation in the army, and an affluent mai-riage — he prudently preferred the latter; and in 1755 he found himself most happily settled in life, with a young lady of beauty, connexions, amiable qualifications, and £5000 a-year. It is very probable that IVIr Hamilton spent his hours in philosophical ease, until his acquisition of that situation in which he afterwards distinguislied himself. In 1764, he was appointed ambassador to the court of Naples, where he continued till the year 1800. If his appointment as a resident ambassador for so long a period, is to be considered as but a method of expressing in more consequential terms the employment of an agent for advancing the study of the arts, the person was well «;hosen for the purpose, and the interests of the public were well attended to; but if Mr Hamilton's claims to national respect are to be judged by his merely diplomatic duties, the debt, in addition to the salary he received, will be very small. Tlie reason why a permanent representative of the British government should have been found requisite in Sicily, is in reality one of those circumstances which a diplomatist only could explain. The fame ac- quired in other departments by the subject of our memoir, lias prompted his biographers to drag to light his diplomatic exertions, yet, althougli nothing- has been discovered which can throw a blot on his good name, the amount of service performed in thirty-six years is truly ludicrous. He entered into ex- planations with the marquis Tanucci, first minister of Sicily, regarding some im- proper expressions used by a gentleman of the press of the name of Torcia, in his " Political Sketch of Europe." He managed to keep his Sicilian majesty neuter during the American wax-. He acted with prudence during the family misundei-standings between Spain aiid Naples in 1784 ; and finally, he exerted himself in preventing any mischief from being perpetrated by "an eccentric III. K 2 HAMILtOl character among our nobility," who had made attempts to give much trouble to prudent people, by his conduct at Naples. But the kingdom of the two Sicilies was but the shadow of a European power, and was only regarded as it followed one or other of the great nations \vhose contests shook the worjd. It afforded in its active existence no arena for the statesman or the soldier. It was in the dust of buried ages that was hid beneath its soil that the active mind found em- ployment in that feeble kingdom, and these were the only objects worthy to ab- sorb the attention of the distinguished person whom we are connnemorating. On his arrival at the interesting country of his mission, Mr Hamilton re- peatedly visited Vesuvius and Etna, and from a minute examination of the whole surrounding country, collected numerous important geological observations, wliich were from time to time, between the years 1766 and 1779, transmitted to the Royal Society, and afterwards made their appearance in the transactions of that body, and in the Annual Register. It was the design of Sir William Hamilton, to point out in these observations such evidence as might lead geolo- gists to a better comprehension of the influence of subterraneous fires on the structure of the earth, and to display the first links of a chain of reasoning, which it was his hope future industry might make complete. It was his opinion that the land for many miles round Naples, was not, as it was generally sup- posed, a district of fruitful land, subject to the ravages of flame ; but a part of the surface of the globe which owed its very existence to the internal conflagra- tions by which it was shaken. In illustration of this he considered Etna to have been formed by a series of eruptions, at protracted periods, as the smaller ejninence of Monte Nuovo, near Puzzu^oli, had been formed by one eruption of 48 hours' continuance. Among other minute circumstances, he discovered that the streets of Pompeii Avere paved with the lava of a former age, and that there was a deep stratum of lava and burnt matter under the foundations of the town, showirg that the earliest ei'uption of history was not the first of nature, and that the labours of man might have been more than once buried beneath such coverings. As illustrations of these valuable remarks, the author collected a magnificent assortment of the various descriptions of lava, which he lodged in our national nmseum, that naturalists might be able to trace a connexion be- twixt these immediate productions of the volcano, and other portions of the crust of the globe. These remarks were afterwards digested and systematized, and produced, first " Observations on mount Vesuvius, mount Etna, and other vol- canoes of the two Sicilies," published in London in 1772. The next, a more aspiring work, was published at Naples in 1776, in two folio volumes, and cal- led " Campi rhlegi'sei, Observations on the Volcanoes of the two Sicilies, as they have been communicated to the Royal Society of London, by Sir William Hamil- ton." The numerous plates in this magnificent work of art, from views taken on the spot by Mr Valris, a British artist, are faintly engraved in little more than outline, and coloured with so much depth and truth, that they assume the appearance of original water-colour drawings of a very superior order. They are illustrative of bis favourite theory, and represent those geological aspects of the country which he considered peculiarly applicable as illustrations. It is to be remarked, tiiat neither in his communications to the Royal Society, nor in his larger woi'ks, does this author trace any complete exclusive system. He merely points out the facts on which others may work, acknowledging that he is disposed to pay more respect to the share which fire has had in the formation of the crust of the earth, than Buffon and others are disposed to admit. " By the help of drawings," he says, " in this new edition of my communications to tlie so«',iety, which so clearly point out the volcanic origin of this country, it ib to be hoped that farther discoveries of the same nature may be made, and HAMILTON. 3 that subten-aneous fires will be allowed to have had a gi-eater share in the for- mation of mountains, islands, and even tracts of land, than has hitherto been suspected." Many men of eminence at that time visited Sir William Hamilton, and marked the progress of his discoveries, and among the rest Monsieur Saus- sure, professor of natural history at (ieneva, who accompanied him in his in- vestigations, and acceded to the arguments he derived from them. Dui-ing the course of his communications to the Koyal Society, it was the fortune of the au- thor to have an opportunity of witnessing Vesuvius in eruption. In October, 1767, occurred the eruption which is considered to have been the twenty-scventh from that which in the days of Titus destroyed Herculaneum and Pompei. The mountain was visited by Hamilton and a party of his friends during this interesting scene, which has aftbrded material for cne of the most graphic of his communications. But a grander scene of devastation attracted his atten- tion in October, 1779, Avhen the unfortunate inhabitants of Ottaiano had reason to dread the fate described by Pliny. Of this memorable eruption our author transmitted an account to Sir Joseph Banks, which he afterwards published as a supplement to his " Campi Phlegrasi." Previously to the period of the last event we have mentioned, the subject of our memoir was connected with the preparation of another gi-eat work, for which the world has incurred to him a debt of gratitude. He had made a vast collection of Etruscan antiquities — vases, statues, and fresco paintings, partly dug from the earth, and partly purchased from the museums of the decayed nobility, among which was that great collection now deposited in the British museum, which had belonged to the senatorial house of Porcinari. Of the most precious of these I'emains of antiquity, Hamilton allowed the adventurer D'Hancerville, to publish illustrated plates, liberally allowing the artist to appropriate the whole profits of the work. " Long since," he says " Mr Hamilton had taken pleasure in collecting those precious monuments, and had afterwards trusted them to him for publication, requiring only some elegance in the execution, and the con- dition, that the work should appear under the auspices of his Britannic ma- jesty." The work accordingly was published at Naples, under the title of" An- tiquites Etrusques, Greques, et Romaines.'' The abbe Winckelman mentions, that two volumes of this woi-k were published in 1765, and two others the year fol- lowing. Along with the author of a notice of Sir William Hamilton's Life, which appeared in Baldwins Literary Journal, we have been unable to discover a copy of the two former volumes of this work, or to find any reference to them on which we can repose tnist, nor do we perceive that the two latter volumes bear the marks of being a continuation, and neither of the after editions of Paris, 1787, and Florence, IHOl and 1808, which might have informed us on this subject, are at present accessible to us. The two volumes we have men- tioned as having seen, contain general remarks on the subjects of the plates, in English and hrench, whicli both the imaginative matter, and the language, show to have been translated from the latter language into the former. 'J he plates, by far the most valuable pnrt of the work, introduced a new spirit into the depiction of the useful remains of antiquity, which enabled the artist who wished to imitate them, to have as corro<;t an idea of the labours of the ancients, as if the originals were before him. Tlie tena-cotta vases predominate ; some of these are votive ofierings — others have been adapted for use. A general view of the form of each is given, witli a measurement, along with which there is a distinct faosimile of the paintings which so frequently occur on these beautiful pieces of pottery; the engraving is bold and ac(;urate, and the colouring true to the original. This work has been tiie means of adding the bold genius of classic table to modern accuracy and skill in workmanship. From the painter 4 HAMILTON. and statuary, to the fabricator of the most grotesque drinking cup, it has af- forded models to artists, and is confidently asserted to have gone far in altering and improving the general taste of the age. During the exertions we have been commemorating, Hamilton was in the year 1772, created a knight of the Bath, a circumstance which will account for our sometimes varying his designa- tion, as the events mentioned happened previously to, or after his elevation. The retired philosophical habits of Sir William Hamilton prevented him in the earliest years of his mission from forming intimacies with persons similarly situated, and he lived a life of domestic privacy, study, and observation of na- ture. But fame soon forced friends on his retirement, and all the eminent per- sons who visited his interesting neighbourhood became his guests. One of his friends, the French ambassador at the court of Naples, has told us that he pro- tected the arts because the arts protected him, and enriched him. The motives of the characteristic may be doubted. A love of art fascinates even mercenary men into generosity, and the whole of Sir William Hamilton's conduct shows a love of art, and a carelessness of personal profit by his knowledge, not often ex- hibited. Duclos, secretary of the French academy, on visiting Naples, has drawn an enthusiastic picture of the felicity then enjoyed by Sir William Hamilton — his lady and himself in the prime of life, his daughter just opening to woman- hood, beauty, and accomplishments ; the public respect paid to his merits, and the internal peace of his amiable family ; but this state of things was doomed to be sadly reversed. In 1775, Sir William lost his only daughter, and in 1782, he had to deplore the death of a wife who had brought him competence and domestic peace. After an absence of twenty years, he revisited Britain in 1784. The purpose of this visit is whispered to have been that he might interfere with an intended marriage of his nephew, Mr Greville, to Miss Emma Hart. If such was his view, it was fulfilled in a rather unexpected manner. It is at all times painful to make written reference to those private vices, generally suspected and seldom proved, the allusion to which usually receives the name of "scandal;" but in the case of the second lady Hamilton, they have been so unhesitatingly and amply detailed by those who have chosen to record such events, and so complacently received by the lady herself and her friends, that they must be considered matters of history, which no man will be found chivalrous enough to contradict. This second Theodosia passed the earlier part of her life in obscurity and great indigence, but soon showed that she had various ways in which she might make an independent livelihood. Some one who has written her memoirs, has given testimony to the rather doubtful circumstance, that her first act of infamy was the consequence of charitable feeling, which prompted her to give her virtue in exchange for the release of a friend who had been impressed. Be this as it may, she afterwards discovered more profita- ble means of using her charms. At one time she was a comic actress — at another, under the protection of some generous man of fashion ; but her chief source of fame and emolument seems to have been her connexion with Romney and the other great artists of the day, to whom she seems to have furnished the models of more goddesses than classic poets ever invented. Mr Greville, a man of accurate taste, had chosen her as his companion, and the same principles of correct judgment which regulated his choice probably suggested a transference of his charge to the care of Sir William Hamilton. His own good opinion of her merits, and the character she had received fi'om his friend, prompted Sir William soon after to marry this woman, and she took the title of lady Hamilton in 1791. At that time both retui-ned to Britain, where Sir William attempted in vain to procure for his fair but frail bride, an introduction to the British court, which might authorize, according to royal etiquette, her presentation at HAMILTON. 5 the court of Naples. But this latter was found not so difficult a barrier as that Avhich it was considered necessary to surmount before attempting it. The beauty and, perhaps, the engaging- talents of lady Hamilton procured for her notoriety, and notoriety brings friends. She contrived to be essentially useful, and very agreeable, to the king and queen of the Sicilies ; and procured for herself their friendship, and for her husband additional honours. Her connec- tion with lord Nelson, and the manner in which she did the state service, are too well known; but justice, on passing speedily over the unwelcome subject, cannot help acknowledging that she seems here to have felt something like real attach- ment. The latter days of this woman restored her to the gloom and obscurity of her origin. She made ineffectual attempts after the death of her husband to procure a pension from government. Probably urged by necessity, she insulted the ashes of the great departed, by publishing her correspondence with lord Nelson, followed by a denial of her accession to the act, which did not deceive the public. She died at Calais in February, 1815, in miserable obscurity and debt, without a friend to follow her to the gi'ave, and those who took an interest in the youthful daughter of Nelson,- with difficulty prevented her from being seized, according to a barbarous law, for the debts of her mother. But we return with pleasure to the more legitimate object of our details. There was one subject of importance on which some prejudices on the part of the Sicilian government, prevented Sir William Hamilton from acquiring that knowledge which he thought might be interesting and useful to liis country. A chamber in the royal museum of Portici had been set aside for containing the manuscripts, of which a small collection had been found in an edifice in Pom- peii ; and on the discovery that these calcined masses were genuine manuscripts of the days of Pliny, the greatest curiosity was manifested to acquii-e a knowledge of their contents. The government was assailed by strangers for the watchful- ness with Avhich these were kept from their view, and the little exertion which had been bestowed in divulging their contents : the latter accusation was perhaps scarcely just ; some venerable adherents of the church of Rome did not hesitate to spend months of their own laboui-, in exposing to the world the sentences which an aniuent Roman liad taken a few minutes to compose. The public were soon made sufficiently acquainted with the subject to be disappointed at the exposure of a few sentences of the vilest of scliolastic stuff; and the narrow- mindedness of which Sir William Hamilton had to coinplain, has been since dis- continued, and England has had an opportunity of showing lier skill in tiie art of unrolling papyrus. To acquire the information, for which he found the usual means unavailing. Sir William Hamilton entered into an agreement with father Anthony Piaggi, a Piarist monk, the most diligent of the decypherers, by ^^hich, in consideration of a salary of £100, the latter was to furnish the former with a weekly sheet of original information, which, to avoid ministerial detection, was to be written in cipher. The contract seems to have been executed to the satisfaction of both parties, and Sir William procured for father Anthony an addition to his salary, equal to tlie sum at whicli it was originally fixed ; and on the death of the father in ITDS, he bequeathed all liis manuscripts and papers to his patron. Sir William Hamilton, on liis visit to Britain in 17i)l, was created a privy councillor. — The circumstances whicli in 1798 compelled him to accom- pany the Sicilian court to Palermo, are matter of history, and need not be here repeated. — In the year 1800, he left Sicily, and soon afterwards, accompanied by captain Leake, and lieutenant Hayes, undertook a journey through I'"g}'pt, visiting and describing with great minuteness tlie city of Thebes, and the other well-known parts of that interesting country. The notes collected by him on this occasion were published after his death in the year 1809, under the title O HAMILTON. *' ^^P'i3.ca, or Some Account of the Ancient and Modern State of Egypt, as obtained in tiie years 1801 and 1802, by William Hamilton, F. A. S," — " This work," says the Edinburgh Keview, " will be found an excellent supplement to the more elaborate and costly work of Denon. His style is in general simple and unaffected ; and therefore, loses nothing, in our opinion, when compared with that of some of the travellers who have gone before him." Sir William Hamil- ton died in April, 1803, in the 72nd year of his age. His death deprived the world of two great \vorks which he hoped to have lived to prepare, on the subject of the museum of Portici. HAMILTON, William, a celebrated surgeon, and lecturer on anatomy and chemistry in the university of Glasgow. This meritorious individual was unfor- tunately cut oft' from the world too early in life, and too suddenly, to be enabled to give to the world those works on his favourite science, on which he might have founded his fame, and the circle of his influence and renown was hardly so extensive as to attract the attention of posterity ; but a tribute to his memory, in the form of a memoir of his life, and remarks on his professional acquirements, read by his friend professor Cleghorn to the Royal Society of Edinburgh,' and inserted in the transactions of that eminent body, justifies us in enumerating him among distinguished Scotsmen. William Hamilton wus bom in Glasgow, on the 31st July, 1758, His father was Thomas Hamilton, a respectable sur- geon in Glasgow, and professor of anatomy and botany in that university ; and his mother, daugiiter to Mr Anderson, professor of church history in the same institution. He followed the usual course of instruction in the grammar school and college of his native city, from which latter he took the degree of master of arts in 1775, at the age of seventeen. Being supposed to show an early predi- lection for the medical profession, he proceeded to Edinburgh, then at the height of its fame as a school for that science, where he studied under Cullen and Black, the early friends of his father. The bad health of his father recalled the young physician after two sessions spent in Edinburgh, and both proceeded on a tour to Bath, and thence to London, where the son was left to pursue his studies, with such an introduction to the notice of Or William Hunter, as a schoolfellow acquaintanceship between his father and that distinguished man warranted. The prudence, carefulness, and regulax-ity of the young man's conduct, while surrounded by the splendour and temptation of the meti'opolis, have been com- mended by his friends ; these praiseworthy qualities, joined to a quick percep- tion on professional subjects, and an anxiety to perfect himself in that branch of his profession which calls for the greatest zeal and enthusiasm on the part of the medical student, attracted the attention of his observing friend. He was requested to take up his residence in Dr Hunter's house, and finally was trusted with the important charge of the dissecting room, a valuable, and probably a delightful duty. He seems to have secured the good opinion he had gained, by his performance of this arduous and impoi-tant function. " I see and hear nmch of him," says Dr Hunter, in his correspondence with the young man's father, " and every body regards him as sensible, diligent, sober, and of amiable dispositions." — " fVom being a favourite with every body, he has connnanded every opportunity for improvement, whic^h this great town afforded, during his stay here ; for every body has been eager to oblige and encourage him. I can depend so much on him, in every way, that if any opportunity should offer of serving him, whatever may he in my power, I shall consider as doing a real pleasure to myself." Such were the character and prospects of one, who, it is to be feared, was then nourishing by too intense study the seeds of dissolution in a naturally feeble constitution. Soon after, the father's state of health 1 Vol. iv. p. 35, read 6tk November, 1792. HAMILTON. 7 imperiously requiiing an assistant in his lectures, the son undertook that duty, and in 1781, on liis father's final resignation, was nominated his successor, a circumstance which enabled his kind friend Dr Hunter to fulfill his former promise, by stating to tlie marquis of Graham, that he considered it " the in- terest of Glasgow to give him, rather tlian his to solicit the appointment." The father died in 1782, and the son was then left the successor to his lucrative and extensive practice, in addition to the duties of the university. During the short period of liis enjoyment of these desirable situations, he received from the poorer people of Glasgow, the character, seldom improperly bestowed, of ex- tending to them .the assistance, which a physician of talent can so well bestow, lie kept for the purpose of his lectui-es, and for his own improvement, a x-egular note-book of cases, which he sununed up in a tabular digest at the termination of each year. Of these notes, he had before his death commenced such an ar- rangement as would enable him to form from them a system of surgery which he intended to have published. Some extracts from this collection are pre- served by the biographer we have mentioned, as characteristics of the style of his composition, and the extent of his observation. In 1783, he married Miss Elizabeth Stirling, a lady accomplished, and of good connexions in Glasgow. Within a very few years after this event, the marked decay of his constitution alarmed his friends, and his knowledge as a physician enabled him to assure himself that deatli was steadily approacliing. He died on the 13th day of March, 1790, in the 32d year of his age. Few, even of those who have de- parted in the pride of life — in the enjoyment of talents, hopes, and prosperity, seem to have caused greater regret, and it cannot be doubted that it was de- served. His manner as a public instructor is thus described by Mr Cleghorn : " As a lecturer, his manner was remarkably free from pomp and affectation. His language was simple and perspicuous, but so artless, that it appeared flat to those who place the beauty of language in the intricacy of arrangement, or the abundance of figures. His manner of speaking corresponded with his style, and was such as might appear uninteresting to those who think it impossible to be eloquent witliout violent gestures, and frequent variations of tone. He used nearly the tone of ordinary conversation, as his preceptor Dr Hunter did before him, aiming at perspicuity only, and trusting for attention to the importance of the subjects he treated." HAMILTON, William, of Bangour, a poet of considerable merit, was the second son of James Hamilton, Esq. of Bangour, advocate, and was born at Bangour in 1701. He was descended from the Hamiltons of Little Earnock in Ayrshire ; his great-grandfather James Hamilton, (second son of Jolni Hamil- ton of Little Earnock,) being the founder of tlie family of Bangour. On tiie death of liis brother (who married Elizabeth Dalrymple) without issue, in 1750, the subject of this memoir succeeded to the estate. Born in elevated circumstances and in polished society, IMr Hamilton received all the accomplishments which a liberal education, with these advantages, could afford ; and although exposed, as all young persons of his rank usually are, to the light dissipations of gay life, he resisted every temptation, and in a great measure dedicated his time to the improvement of his mind. The state of liis health, which was always delicate, and Iiis natural temperament, leading him to prefer privacy and study to mixing frequently in society, he early acquired a taste for litei'ature, and he soon obtained a thorough and extensive acquaintance with the best authoi-s, ancient and modern. The leaning of his mind was towards poetry, and he early composed many pieces of distinguished merit. Em^ouraged by tile approbation of his friends, as well as conscious of his own powers, he was easily induced to persevere in the cultivation of his poetic powers. Rlauy of bis O HAMILTON. songs breathe the true spirit of Scottish melody, especially his far-famed " Braes of Yarrow." Thus in calm retirement, and in the pursuit of knowledge, his life might have passed serenely, undisturbed by the calls of ambition or the toils and alarms of war, had it not been for the ill-judged but chivalrous attempt of an adventurous prince to recover the throne of his ancestors from what was considered the grasp of an usurper. At the commencement of the insurrection of 1745, Mr Hamil- ton, undeterred by the attainder and exile of his brother-in-law the earl of Carnwath,' for his share in the rebellion in 1715, took the side which all brave and generous men of a certain class in those days were apt to take ; he joined the standard of prince Charles, and celebrated his first success at Prestonpans in the well-known Jacobite ode of " Gladsmuir." After the battle of CuUoden, so disastrous to the prince and his followers, he fled to the mountain and the glen ; and there for a time, endured much wandering and many hardships. Finally, however, he succeeded, with some others in the same proscribed situation, in escaping into France. But his exile was short. He had many friends and admirers among the adherents of king George, and through their intei'cession his pardon was speedily procured from government. He accordingly returned home, and resumed possession of his paternal estate. His health, however, at all times weak, by the hardships he had endured, as well as from his anxiety of mind, had now become doubly so, and required the benefit of a warmer climate. He therefore soon afterwards returned to the continent, and for the latter years of his life, took up his residence at Lyons, where a slow consumption carried him off, on the 25th March, 1754, in the fiftieth year of his age. His corpse Mas brought to Scotland, and interred in the Abbey church of Holyrood. Mr Hamilton was twice married, into families of distinction, and by his first lady, a daughter of Sir James Hall of Dunglass, baronet, he had issue one son, James, who succeeded him. Though Mr Hamilton's works do not place him among the highest class of Scottish poets, he is fully entitled to rank among those of a secondary order. What was much in his favour, certainly not in furtherance of his facility of com- position, but as an advantage to his fame, is, that for a whole century previous to the time he began to write, few names of any consequence were known in Scottish poetry. From 1615 till 1715 no poet of any note — except only Drum- mond and Stirling — had appeared. From the days of Buchanan, the only other poets we could then boast of, following the example of that leading intellect, had composed in a language utterly opposite to their own, in construction, copiousness, and facility — we mean the Latin : and inferior poets as well as inferior scholars to Hamilton, in com- pliment to the reigning fashion, continued to use that didactic and difficult lan- guage for the expression of their sentiments. Hamilton, thei-efore, had much to overcome in entering the lists as an original writer in his own language, the elegance, the purity, and the freedom, though perhaps not the force nor the energy, of which he understood so well. He was convinced that the greater part, if not the whole, of those authors who preferred composing in a dead language would be utterly unknown to posterity, except perhaps to a few of the literati and the learned. But at the dawn of the eighteenth century the scholastic spell Avas at length broken, and Hamilton and Ramsay were among the first who gave utter- ance to their feelings, the one in English and the other in his native Scottish dialect ; and this perhaps, even to the present day constitutes the principal cause of their fame. It may safely be asserted that in the works of Hamilton and Ram- say there is more genuine poetry, than in the works of the whole century of ' The earl married, as his third wife, IMargaret, the poet's sister. HAMILTON. 9 Latin poets who preceded them ; though this may be denied by those classic readers, who are still in the habit of poring into the lucubrations of those authors, the greater part of whom have long ceased to be known to the general reader, while the works of Hamilton and Kanisay are still read and admired. Mr Hamilton's poems were first published by Foulis, at Glasgow, in 1748, ] 2mo, and afterwards reprinted ; but this volume was a pirated publication, and appeared not only without his name, but without his consent, and even without his knowledge; and as might have been expected, it abounded in errors. He was then abroad, and it was thought the appearance of that collection would have produced from him a more perfect edition : but though on his return he cor- rected many errors, and considerably enlarged some of the poems, he did not live to furnish a new and complete edition. It remained therefore for his friends, after his death, to publish from his original manuscripts the first genuine and correct collection of his works. It appeared in one volume small Svo, at Edin- burgh, in 1760, with ahead by Strange, who had been a fellow adventurer with him in the cause of prince Charles. This volume did not at first attract any particular notice, and his poems were rapidly fading from public remembrance, when an attempt was made by the late professor Kichardson of (tlasgo^v, to direct the attention of the public to his merits. In a very able criticism from the pen of tiiat gentleman which appeared in the Lounger, among other observations no less just, the following formed one of his principal remarks : " The poems of Hamilton display regular design, just sentiments, fanciful invention, pleasing sensibility, elegant diction, and smooth versification." Mr Richardson then enters into an analysis of Hamilton's prin- cipal poem of " Contemplation," or " the Triumph of Love." He descants chiefly on the quality of fanciful invention, as being the principal characteristic of poetical composition. He says " that Mr Hamilton's imagination is employed among beautiful and engaging, rather than among awful and magnificent images, and even when he presents us with dignified objects, he is more grave than lofty, more solemn than sublime." — " It is not asserted," continues Mr Kichard- son, in illustrating the ' pleasing sensibility' he ascribes to Hamilton, " that he displays those vehement tunmlts and ecstasies of passion that belong to the higher kind of lyric and dramatic composition. He is not shaken with excessive rage, nor melted with overwhelming sorrow ; yet when he treats of grave or affecting subjects, he expresses a plaintive and engaging softness. He is never violent and abrupt, and is more tender than pathetic Perhaps ' Tlie Braes of Yarrow,^ one of the finest ballads ever written, may put in a claim to superior distinction. But even with this exception, I should think our poet more remarkable for engaging tenderness than for deep and aft'ecting pathos. In like manner, when he expresses the joyful sentiments, or describes scenes and objects of festivity, tthich he does very often, he displays good humour and easy cheerfulness, rather than the transports of mirth or the brilliancy of wit." Mr Richardson, in illustration of these characteristics, quotes some passages which conveys the most favourable impression of Mr Hamilton's poetical powers. Mr IM'Kenzie, the ingenious editor of the Lounger, enforced the judgment pronounced by JMr Richardson, in a note, in which he not only fully agrees with him, but even goes farther in JMr Hamilton's praise. Lord Woodhouselee was also among the first to acknowledge his excellence and vindicate his fame. He thus speaks of Mr Hamilton in his life of lord Karnes, " Mr Hamilton's mind is pictured in his verses. They are the easy and careless efilisions of an elegant fancy, and a chastened taste ; and the sentiments tliey convey are the genuine feelings of a tender and susceptible heart, which perpetually owned the dominion of some favourite mistress ; but whose passion generally evaporated in song, and III. B 10 • HAMILTON. made no serious or permanent impression. His poems had an additional charm to his contemporaries, from being commonly addressed to his familiar friends of either sex, by name. There are few minds insensible to the soothing flattery of a poet's i-ecox'd." These authorities in Hamilton's favour are high and powerful, and it miglit have been expected that, with his own merits, tiiey might have obtained for him a greater share of popularity than has fallen to his lot : but notwithstanding these and other no less favom-able testimonies, the attention of the public was never steadily fixed upon ius works. And although they have been inserted in Johnson and Chalmers' edition of the English poets, there has been no demand for a separate edition ; nor is Hamilton among those writers, whom we often hear quoted by the learned or tlie gay. As a first adventurer in English literature, rejecting altogether the scholastic school of poetry, Mr Hamilton must be allowed to have obtained no ordinary suc- cess. In his language he shows nearly all the purity of a native ; his diction is vari- ous and powerful, and his versification but rarely tainted witli provincial errors. He delights indeed in a class of words, which though not rejected by the best English writers, have a certain insipidity which only a refined English ear, per- haps, can perceive ; such as beauteous, dubious, duteous, and even melancliolious ! The same peculiarity may be remarked of most of the early Scottish writers in the English language. In Thomson it is particularly observable. We also some- times meet in Hamilton with false quantities ; but they seem oftener to proceed from making a Procrustian of a poetic license, than from ignorance or inadver- tence, as in the following verse : " Where'er the beauteous heart-compeller moves, She scatters wide perdition all around : Blest with celestial form, and crown 'd with loves, No single breast is refractory found." If he had made the '' refractory" precede the " is," so as to have rendered tlie latter the penultimate in this line, the euphony and the rhythm would have been complete ; but in his days, we believe, this word was accented on the first syllable. Lord Woodhouselee calls Hamilton's poems the " easy and careless efliisions of an elegant fancy, and a chastened taste." This does not quite agree with the " regular design" which Richardson discovers in them ; nor indeed with what his lordship himself tells us elsewhere, that " it appears from Hamilton's letters that he communicated his poems to his friends for their critical remarks, and was easily induced to alter or amend them by their advice. " Contemplation," for instance, he sent to Mr Home (lord Kames), with whom he lived in the closest habits of friendship, who suggested some alterations, which were thus acknow- ledged in a letter from Hamilton, dated July, 1739 : " I have made the correc- tions on the moral part of ' Contemplation,' and in a post I will send it to Will Crawford, who has the rest." Mr Hamilton had evidently too passionate a devotion to the muses, to be careless of his attentions to them. The writing of poetry, indeed, seems to have formed the chief business of his life. Almost the whole of his poems are of an amatory cast ; and even in his more serious pieces, a tone of love, like a thread of silver, runs through them. It would seem, how- ever, that to him love, with all its pangs, was only a poet's dream. Perhaps the following is the best illustration of the caprice and inconstancy of his affection. In a letter to Mr Home, dated September, 1748, in answer to one from that gentleman regarding some remarks on Horace, of the same tenor, it would appear, as those which he afterwards published in his Elements of Criticism, flir HAMILTON. 1 1 Hamilton after alludingr to these remarks thus questions himself: " Why don't I rest contented with the small, perhaps, hut sincere portion of that happiness furnished me by my poetry, and a few friends ? Why concern myself to please Jeanie Stetvart, or vex myself about that happier man, to whom the lottery of life may have assigned her. Qui Jit, Maecenas, qui fit ? Whence comes it. Alas! whence indeed.!* ' Too long by love, a wandering fire, misled, My better days in vain delusion fled : Day after day, year after yeai", withdrew, And beauty blest the minutes as they flew, Those hours consumed in joy, but lost to fame. With blushes 1 review, but dare not blame ; A fault which easy pardon might receive, Did lovers judge, or could the wise forgive : But now to wisdom's healing springs I fly, And drink oblivion of each charmful eye : To love revolted, quit each pleasing care, Whate'er was witty, or whate'er was fair.' I am yours, &c." The " Jeanie Stewart" above alluded to complained to Mr Home, that slie was teased with Mr Hamilton's continually dangling after her. She was con- vinced, she said, that his attentions to her had no serious aim, and she hinted an earnest wish to get rid of him. " You are his friend," she added, " tell him he exposes both himself and me to the ridicule of our acquaintance."- — "No, madam," said Mr Home, who knew how to appreciate the fervour of Mr Hamilton's pas- sion, " you shall accomplish his cure yourself, and by the simplest method. Dance with him to-night at the assembly, and show him every mark of your kindness, as if you believed his passion sincere, and had resolved to favour his suit. Take my word for it, you'll hear no more of him." The lady adopted the counsel, and she had no reason to complain of the success of the experi- ment.* In poetry, however, no one could paint a warmer love, or breathe a fiercer flame. In some rather conceited lines, " upon hearing his picture was in a lady's breast," he chides it for •' Engrossing all that beauteous heaven, That Chloe, lavish maid, has given ;" And then passionately exclaims, that, if he were the lord of that bosom — " Vd be a miser too, nor give An alms to keep a god alive." A noble burst of fancy and enthusiasm ! A most expressive image of the bound- less avarice of love. Of Mr Hamilton's poems not devoted to love, the most deserving of notice is " The Episode of the Thistle," which appears intended as part of a larger work never completed, called " The Flowers." It is an ingenious attempt, by a well devised fable, to account for the selection of the thistle, as the national emblem of Scotland. The blank verse which he has chosen for this uncomplete poem, does not seem to have been altogether adapted to his powers ; yet, on reading 1 " Bonnie Jeanie Stewart of Torsonce," as she was here fully described in ordinary par- lance, married the earl of DundonakI, and was mother of the late ingenious earl, so distirguishtd by his scientific investigations, and b) the generally unfortunate tenor of his life. 12 HAMILTON. the piece, we were equally surprised and pleased with the felicity and modulation of its language. The only poem which Mr Hamilton wrote in his native dialect Mas the " Braes of Yai-row," which has been almost universally acknowledged to be one of the finest ballads ever written. But Mr Pinkerton, whose opinion of the ancient ballad poetry of Scotland has always had considerable weight, has pass- ed a different judgment on it, " It is," says he, " in very bad taste, and quite unlike the ancient Scottish manner, being even inferior to the poorest of the old ballads with this title. His repeated words and lines causing an eternal jingle, his confused narration and affected pathos, throw this piece among the rubbish of poetry." The jingle and affected pathos of which he complains are sometimes indeed sickening. "Lang maun she weep, laiig maun she, maun she weep, Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow," &c. " Then build, then build, ye sishjVs, sisters sad. Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow," &c. On the other hand, the isolated condemnation of Mr Pinkerton must be al- lowed to have little weight against the interest with which this poem has so sig- nally impressed Mr Wordsworth, as appeai-s from his beautiful poems of " Yar- row Unvisited " and " Yarrow Visited." There exists in manuscript another fragmentary poem by Mr Hamilton, called the " Maid of Gallowshiels." It is an epic of the heroi-comic kind, intended to celebrate the contest between a piper and a fiddler for the fair Maid of Gallowshiels. Mr Hamilton had evidently designed to extend it to twelve books, but has only completed Ihe first and a portion of the second. Dr Leyden, who owns himself indebted to the friendship of Dr Robert Ander- son for his knowledge of this MS,, gives the following account of it in his preface to the " Complaynt of Scotland," " In the first (book) the fiddler chal- lenges the piper to a trial of musical skill, and proposes that the maid herself should be the umpire of the contest. ' Sole in her breast, the favourite he shall reign Whose hand shall sweetest wake the warbled strain ; And if to me th' ill-fated piper yield, As sure I trust, this well- contested field ; High in the sacred dome his pipes 111 raise, The trophy of my fame to after days ; That all may know, as they the pipes survey, The fiddler's deed, and this the signal day. All Gallowshiels the darling challenge heard, Full blank they stood, and for their piper fear'd : Fearless alone he rose in open view, And in the midst his sounding bagpipe threw.' " 'I he history of the two heroes is related with various episodes ; and the piper deduces his origin from Colin of Gallowshiels, who bore the identical bag- pipe at the battle of Harlaw, with which his descendant resolves to maintain the glory of the piper race. The second book, the subject of which is the trial of skill, commences with the following exquisite description of the bagpipe : ' Now, in his artful hand the bagpipe held, Elate, the piper wide surveys the field ; O'er all he throws his quick-discerning eyes, And views their hopes and fears alternate rise ; HAMILTON. 13 Old Glenderule, in Gallowshiels long fam'd For works of skill, this perfect wonder fram'd ; His shining steel first lopp'd, with dexterous toil, From a tall spreading elm the branchy spoil ; The clouded wood, he next divides in twain, And smoothes them equal to an oval plain ; Six leather folds in still connected rows To either plank conform 'd, the sides compose ; The wimble perforates the base with care, A destin'd passage opening to the air: But once inclosed within the narrow space, The opposing valve forbids the backward race ; Fast to the swelling bag, two reeds combin'd, Receive the blasts of the melodious wind ; Round from the twining loom, with skill divine, Embost, the joints in silver circles shine; In secret prison pent, the accents lie, Untill his arm the lab'ring artist ply : Then, duteous, they forsake their dark abode. Felons no more, and wing a separate road ; These upward through the narrow channel glide. In ways unseen, a solemn murmuring tide : Those through the narrow part their jouniey bend. Of sweeter sort, and to the earth descend ; O'er the small pipe at equal distance lie, Eight shining holes, o'er which his fingers fly ; From side to side the aerial spirit bounds, The flying fingers form the passing sounds. That, issuing gently through each polish 'd door, Mix with the common air, and charm no more.' " This poem, however, does not seem evei* to have been corrected, and the extracts we have given are from the first rude draft of it. It would be unfair, therefore, to consider it as a test of Mr Hamilton's powers, though had he lived to complete it, we do not doubt, from the germs of excellence it evinces, but tiat it would have been a fitter criterion tiian any other of his works." Mr Hamilton's poems, notwithstanding the melody of his numbers and the gayety of his fancy, bear all the marks of studious productions ; and the ease whch they undoubtedly possess, is the ease resulting from elaboration and art. To this, in a great measure, his circumstantiality of painting is to be attri- buted. The measure which Mr Hamilton was most partial to, is the octosyllabic ; and certainly this being the smoothest and most euphonious, it best suited the refine- ment of his mind. He sometimes, however, attempted the decasyllabic measure ; but here, as in his soaring to a greater height in his subjects, he did not succeed so well. His blank verse, like his conception, is without grandeur — without ease — without dignity : it is surcharged, rugged, and verbose. Of tills he was himself aware, for he seldom attempted to clothe his sentiments in the style which was perfected by IMilton and Shakspeare. Mr Hamilton's amatory poetry abounds with " quaint conceits," and pleasing fancies : for example, in dedicating " Contemplation" to a young lady, speaking of the effects of unsuccessful love, he says, " Gloomy and dark the prospect round appears ; Doubts spring from doubts, and fears engender/ears, 14' HAMILTON. Hope after hope goes out in endless night, And all is anguish, torture, and affright. Oh ! beauteous friend, a gentler fate be thine ; Still may thy star with mildest influence shine ; May heaven surround thee with peculiar care. And make thee happy, as it made thee fair." Again, speaking of mutual afiection, he calls it " A mutual warmth that glows from breast to breast. Who loving is belov'd, and blessing blest." Can any thing be finer than the following couplet, with which he concludes an ardent aspiration for her happiness ! " Such," he says, " be thy happy lot," is the fond wish of him, " Whose faithful muse inspir'd the pious prajer, And wearied heaven to keep thee in its care." The poem of " Contemplation" itself is full of beauties. Among his odes there is one " to fancy," in which his lively imagination and exquisite delicacy of sentiment, shine out to the greatest advantage. His descriptions of female loveliness are Avorthy of the subject — they are characterized by sweetness, beauty, and truth. What can surpass this image ? " Her soul, awak'ning every grace, Is all abroad upon her face •, In bloom of youth still to survive, All charms are there, and all alive." And in recording in his verses the name and the beauty of another of his mis- tresses, he says that " his song" will " make her live beyond the grave :" "Thus Hume shall unboni hearts engage, Her smile shall warm another age." But with all this praise of his quieter and more engaging style, we must admit that his poems, even the most perfect, abound in errors. Many of his questions are very strange, nay some of them ludicrous : " Ah 1 when we see the bad preferr'd, Was it eternal justice err'd.'' " Or when the good could not prevail. How could almighty prowess fail V " When time shall let his curtain fall. Must dreary nothing swallow all ?" " Must we the unfinish'd piece deplore. Ere half tlie pompous piece be o'er." What is the meaning of these questions, or have they any ? Mr Hamilton's correspondence with his friends was vax-ied and extensive, but seldom very important. He wrote for writing's sake, and his letters, there- fore, are just so many little pieces of friendly gossip. Of those poets who were his contemporaries, or Avho immediately succeeded him, some have taken notice of him in their works. The most distinguished of those is the unfortunate Fer- gusson, who in his " Hame Content," tlms alludes to Hamilton on his death : " O Bangour ! now the hills and dales, Nae mair gie back thy tender tales ; HARRY. 15 The birks on Yarrow now deplore, Thy mournful muse has left the shore ; Near what bright burn, or chrystal spring, Did you your winsome whistle hing ? The Muse shall there, wi' wat'ry e'e, Gie the dank svvaird a tear for thee ; And Yarrow's genius, dowj' dame ! Shall there forget her blood-stain'd stream, On thy sad grave to seek repose, Wha mourn 'd her fate, condol'd her woes." Mr Hamilton of Bangour is sometimes mistaken for and identified with another poet of the same name, William Hamilton of Gilbertjield in Lanark- shire, a lieutenant in the navy, who was the friend and correspondent of Allan Ramsay, and the modernizer of Blind Harry's poem of Wallace. The composi- tions of this gentleman display much beauty, simplicity, and sweetness ; but he is neither so well known, nor entitled to be so, as the " Card of Yarrow." Mr Hamilton's private virtues were no less eminent than his poetical abilities. His piety, though fervent, was of that quiet and subdued cast that " does good by stealth, and blushes to find it fame." His manners were accomplished — in- deed so much so, as to earn for him the title of " the elegant and amiable Wil- liam Hamilton of Bangour." ' I HART, Andrew, deserves a place in tliis record, as one of the most distin- guished of our early typographers. He flourished in the reign of James VI. Previous to 1600, he was in the habit of importing books from abroad ; he was |at this time exclusively a bookseller. From a mere bookseller lie seems to '\jave gradually become a publisher : several books Mere printed in Holland about the years 1600 and 1601, "at his expense." Finally, he added the business of printing to his other dealings. The productions of his press specify that his shop was in the High Street of Edinburgh, on the north side, opposite the cross ; being, by a strange chance, the identical spot, from which Mr Archibald Constable, two hundred years after, issued so many noble efforts of Scottish genius. Hart's edition of the Bible, 1610, has always been admired for its fine typography. He also published a well-known edition of Barbour's Bruce. In addition to all other claims upon our praise, Hart was a worthy man. He died in a good old age, December, 1621, as we learn from a notice in Boyd of Trochrig's Obituary, quoted below." HENRY, the minstrel, more commonly styled Blind Harry, was a wandering poet of the fifteenth century, who wrote a well-known narrative of the life of Sir William Wallace. The character of a wandering bard or minstrel was in early ages highly valued and honoured, although at a late period it fell into discredit. Henry THE Minstrel, or Blind Harry, had not the fortune to live during the sunshine of his profession ; for in the Scottish laws of his own time, we find bards classed with " vagabondis, fuilis, and sic like idill peopill ;" but the misfortune of his blindness, and the unquestionable excellence of his talents, would in all proba- bility secure to him a degree of respect and attention which «as not then gener- ally bestowed on individuals of his class. Indeed, we learn from fllajor, that the most exalted in the land countenanced the minstrel, and that he recited his * A manuscript, containing many poems by Hamilton which never saw the light, was in the possession of the late George Chalmers, Esq. author of " Caledonia." A list of them is given in the transactions of the Antiquarian Society of Scotland, vol. iii., where a portrait of Mr Hamilton lias also been given * Le moy de Dec. 1621, mourut a Edin. le ho7i homme, Andrew Hart, impremcur i-t libraire; decide en bonne veillesse: homme de bien et notre anrien am\. 16 HARRY. poetical narratives before them. Major is the only writer from whom any information regarding Blind Harry is derived, and the meagreness of that infor- mation may be judged of, when it is known, that the whole is comprised in the following brief sentence. " Integrum librum Gullielmi Vallacei Henricus, a nativitate luminibus captus, meae infantiae tempore cudit ; et quae vulgo diceban- tur, carmine vulgari, in quo peritus erat, conscripsit ; (ego autem talibus scriptis solum in parte tidem impertior ;) qui historiarum recitatione coram principii)us victum et vestituni quo dignus erat nactus est.'" — " Henry, who was blind from his birth, in the time of my infancy composed the whole book of William Wal- lace ; and committed to writing in vulgar poetry, in Avhich he was well skilled, the things that were commonly related of him. For my own part, I give only partial credit to writings of this description. By the recitation of these, how- ever, in the presence of men of the highest rank, he procured, as he indeed deserved, food and raiment." Brief, however, as this passage is, we gather from it the principal points of Henry's life — namely, that he was born blind — that he was well skilled in ver- nacular poetry — that he composed the book of William Wallace — and that by reciting it lie procured food and raiment. The passage, also, is the only source from wiiich we can learn the date of the poem or the period when its author flourished. Major was born in the year 1469, and as he says that the book of W^iliiam Wallace was composed in his infancy. Blind Harry must have lived about that time, and the date of this work may be placed between 1470 and 1480. More than this, regarding the biography of a once popular poet, and one whose name is still familiar in the mouths of his countrymen, cannot be ascertained. Of the book itself, a few observations may be taken. " That a man," says Mr Ellis,^ born blind should excel in any science is extraordinary, though by no means without example : but that he should become an excellent poet is almost miraculous ; because the soul of poetry is description. Perhaps, therefore, it may be easily assumed that Henry was not inferior in point of genius either to Barbour or Chaucer, nor indeed to any poet of any age or country." The question of what a man miglit have been under certain cir- cumstances, is one of assumption altogether, and is too frequently used by indi- viduals regarding themselves as a salve for their indolence and imperfections. Neither can we admit that description is the soul of poetry : we consider it rather as the outward garb or frame-work of the divine art, which unless inspired by an inward spirit of contemplation, has no further charm than a chronicle or gazet- teer. Milton was blind Avhen he composed Paradise Lost, and although he had the advantage of Henry in that he once saw, yet we have often heard his calamity adduced, to increase our wonder and admiration of his great work, whereas, had he I'etained his eyesight. Paradise Lost would probably never have been finished, or, if finished, might not have proved, as it has done, one of the noblest produc- tions which a human being ever laid before his fellow creatures. Although, how- ever, we disapprove of assuming a possible excellence in Henry had he been blessed with vision, it would be unjust not to acknowledge the disadvantages under which his poem has come down to us. He himself could not write it ; nor is there any probability that it was regularly taken down from his dictation ; the incorrectness and unintelligibility of many of its passages rather prove that much of it nmst have been written from recollection, while editors have, in too many instances, from gross misapprehensions, succeeded in rendering absurd what was previously only obscure. With all this, the poem is still of extraordinary merit — and, as a poem, is superior to Barbour's or Winton's. In an historical light, 1 Hist. lib. iv. c. 15. * "Specimens of Early English Poets," vol i. HENDERSON. 17 doubtless, its value can never be put in competition with the works of the abov« authors ; it is rather a romance than a history, and is full of exaggerations and anachronisms ; the narrative Henry professes to have derived from a complete history of Wallace (now lost) written, in Latin, partly by John Blair and partly by Thomas Gray ; and this circumstance, if true, exculpates the poet from the invention at least of its manifold and manifest absurdities. His information seems to have been, for the pei-iod, respectable. In his poem he alludes to the history of Hector, of Alexander the Great, of .lulius CaBsar, and of Charlemagne ; but without profiting from the character wliicli these heroes exhibited in history, of policy combined with prowess and bravery, he has in his book taken the child- ish or gross conception of a warrior, and held up Sir William \A'allace as a mere man of muscular strength and ferocity — capable of hewing down whole squadrons with his single arm, and delighting in the most merciless scenes of blood and slaughter. It is in this point that the Minstrel is so far inferior to Barbour. Ke is destitute of that fine balancing of character displayed by tlie latter, and those broad political views whicli render " 'Ihe Bruce" as much a philosophical his- tory as a poem.'^ HENDERSON, Alexander, one of the most eminent of the many eminent men whose na- tient of the circumsci'ibed sphere to which a professorship of philosophy confined 3 In his late work, entitled " Lives of Scottish Worthies," Mr P. F. Tytler lias cxpnsstil his delil)erate conviction, founded upon recent investigations, (liat the minstrel liolds too low a rank as a credit-worthy historian. "lam persuaded.'' sins IVIr Tytler, ''that Wallace is the work of an ignorant man, who w.is yet in possession of vahi.ible and autlientic materials. On wliat other supposition can we account for the fact, that whilst in one page we meet wilii errors which show a deplorable perversidii of history, in the next we find circiiiiislancrs unknown to other Scottish historians, yet corroborati«d by au'lhtntic documents, by conteniporaiy English annalists, by national monuments and records onl) publishtd in modern times, and to wiiich the minstrel cannot be supposed to have had access. The work, therefore, cannot he treated as an entire romance." The ingenious liistorian then adducx-s a number of instances in which Henry's statements arc proved by lately discovered documents to have been corn-cL 111. C 18 HENDERSON. him, turned his attention to divinity, as opening a wider field for the exercise of his talents. After preparing himself for the ministerial calling, he was appointed to the church of Leuchars, in Fife, through the patronage of archbishop Gladstanes. His appointment, however, was exceedingly unpopular : all his talents and learning could not reconcile his parishioners to a man introduced amongst them by epis(;opal influence, and who was known to be himself of that detested party. The consequence was, that on the day of his ordination he was received with every mark of popular dislike. The church doors were shut against him and carefully secured in the inside, to prevent all possibility of admittance. Deter- mined, however, in despite of these very manifest tokens of public feeling, to perform the ceremony of ordination, Henderson's party entered the church by a window, and proceeded with the business of the day. Whatever were Mr Henderson's other merits, and these were certainly of no ordinary kind, it is known that any extraordinary anxiety about the spiritual interests of his parishioners was not amongst the number. At this period of his life, in short, although not remarkable for the reverse, he seems to have been but slightly impressed with the sacredness of his new calling, and to have taken but little farther interest in matters of religion, than abiding by the general principles in which he had been educated. This conduct, however, and these sentiments were soon to undergo a remarkable change, and that under circum- stances in themselves not less remarkable. Having learned that the celebrated Mr Bruce of Kinnaird was to assist at a communion in the neighbourhood of Leuchars, Henderson, desirous of hearing the preaching of a man who had long been conspicuous as an opponent of the court measures, and whose fame for peculiar gifts in matters of theology was widely spread, repaired to the church where he was officiating. Not choosing, however, to be recognized, he sought to conceal himself in a dark corner of the building. Bruce, nevertheless, seems to have been aware of his presence ; or, if not, there was a singular coincidence in the applicability of the text which he chose, to the remarkable circumstances which attended Henderson's induction to his charge. Be this as it may, the sermon which followed made such a powerful impression upon him as effected an entire change in his religious conduct and sentiments ; and from being a careless and indifferent pastor over his flock, and an upholder of a system odious in the highest degree to the people, he became a watchful and earnest minister, and a resolute champion in the cause of presbyterianism. In three years after his appointment to Leuchars parish, which took place some time previous to the year 1615, 3Ir Henderson, though sedulous in the discharge of his ministerial duties since the period of his conversion, made no public appearance on the side of that party whose principles he had embraced. The opportunity, however, which was all that was wanting for his making such an appearance, at length presented itself. In August, 1618, the celebrated Five articles of Perth, which occasioned so much clamour in Scotland, from their con- taining as many points of episcopal worship, which James was desirous of thrusting on the people of that kingdom, having been carried by a packed majority in an assembly held at Perth, Henderson stood among the foremost of those who opposed, though unsuccessfully, the obnoxious measure ; and this too, in defiance of the king's utmost wrath, with which all who resisted the adoption of the Five articles were threatened. " In case of your refusal," said the arch- bishop of St Andrews, addressing the assembled clergymen, " the whole order and estate of your church will be overthrown, some ministers will be banished, others will be deprived of tiieir stipends and office, and all will be brought under the wrath of authority." HENDERSON. 19 Not at all intimidated by this insolent and indecent threat, Henderson with several of his brethren courageously opposed the intended innovations. For this resistance, to which was added a charge of composing and publishing a book against the validity of the Perth assembly, he was with other two ministers summoned in the month of August, 1619, to appear before the court of High Commission in St Andrews. Obeying the summons, Henderson and his brethren presented themselves before the bishops, when the former conducted himself with such intrepidity, and discussed the various matters charged against him and his colleagues with such talent and force of reasoning, that his judges, though they eagerly sought it, could gain no advantage over him, and were obliged to con- tent themselves with threatening, that if he again offended he should be more hardly dealt with. With this intimation Henderson and his friends were dis- missed. From this period to the year 1637, he does not appear to have meddled much with any transactions of a public character. During this long period he lived retired, confining his exertions within the bounds of his own parish, in which he found sufficient employment from a careful and anxious dis- charge of his pastoral duties. Obscui-e and sequestered, however, as the place of his ministry was, his fame as a man of singular capacity, and as an eloquent and powerful debater, was already abroad and widely known ; and wlien the hour of trial c^me, those talents were recollected, and their possessor called upon to employ them in the behalf of his religion. Before, however, resuming the narrative of Mr Henderson's public career, it may be necessary to give a brief sketch of the circumstances which induced him to leave his retirement and to mingle once more in the religious distx'actions of the times. The unfortunate Charles I. inheriting all the religious as well as political prejudices of his father James VI. had, upon the moment of his accession to the throne, entertained the design of regulating church worship in Scotland by the forms observed in that of England. In this attempt lie was only follow- ing out an idea of his father's : but what the one with more wisdom had little more than contemplated, the other determined to execute. Unfortunately for Charles he found but too zealous an abettor of his dangerous and injudicious designs in his favourite counsellor in church affairs. Laud, archbishop of Canter- bury. Encouraged in the schemes of violence which he meditated against the religious prejudices of Scotland, and urged on to their execution by Laud, Charles, after a series of lesser inroads on the presbyterian mode of worship in Scotland, finally, and with a rasli hand fired the train whicli he had prepared, and by which he set all Scotland in a blaze. This was the imposition of the Liturgy or Service Book on the churcli of Scotland. This celebrated book, M'hich was principally composed by Wed«lerburn, bishop of Dunblane, and Maxwell, bishop of Koss, and afterwards revise«l by Laud, and Wren, bishop of Norwich, was grounded upon the book of common prayer used in England, but contained, besides, some parts of the catholic ritual, suc.li as the benediction or thanksgiving for departed saints, the use of the cross in baptism and of the ring in the cele- bration of marriage, the consecration of water at particular times I)y prayer, witii many other ordinances of a similar character. IMost of these observances were introduced by Laud when revising the original work. When the book was com- pleted, the king gave instructions to the archbishops and bishops regarding its introduction; and immediately after issued a proclamation requiring his subjects, both ecclesiastical and civil, to conform to the mode of worship which it enjoined, concluding with an order that every parish should be furnished wiih two copies, between the publication of the injunction and Easter. The book itself, a large folio, was prefaced by a charge from the king, denouncing as rebels all who refused it. To complete the measure of Charles's rashness on the 20 HENDERSON. subject of the service book, it was introduced into Scotland without having been submitted to presbyteries, and without the sanction of the (General Assembly. The consequence of the introduction of the liturgy, aggravated as it was by the manner of its introduction, was, as might have been expected, in the last degree serious and important. The country rose nearly to a man against the popish innovation. In Edinburgh the bishops who presided at the ceremony of its first introduction were mobbed and maltreated : and the ministers everywhere carefully prepai-ed their congregations to resist the obnoxious volume. The whole land, in short, was agitated by one violent commotion, and the minds of men were roused into a state of feverish excitement, which threatened tlie most serious results. It was at this critical moment that Henderson came again upon the stage. In the same predicament with other clergymen, Henderson was charged to purchase tuo copies of the liturgy for the use of his parish within lifteen days, under llie pain of rebellion. (Jn receiving the charge, Henderson immediately proceeded to Edinburgh and presented a petition to the privy council, representing that the service book had not received the sanction of the General Assembly nor was autliorized by any act of parliament ; that the church of Scotland was free and independent, and ought not to be dictated to except through her own pastors, who were the proper and the best judges of what was for her benefit ; that the form of worship received at the Reformation was still sanctioned by the legislature and the supi-eme ecclesiastical judicatory, and could not be invaded excepting by the same authority ; that some of the ceremonies enjoined by the book had occasioned great divisions, and were extremely obnox- ious to the people, who had been taught to hold them in abhorrence. This bold statement Henderson concluded by soliciting a suspension of the charge. What hope Henderson entertained that this supplication or rather remonstrance would be formally listened to by the privy council, cannot now be ascertained. There is no reason, however, to coni'lude, that he possessed any seci-et intelligence regasding the real dispositions of that body. The credit, therefore, must be awarded him of having come forward on this perilous occasion trusting to tlie strength of his cause alone, and fully prepared to meet the consequences, whatr ever they might be, of the step whicli he had taken. The result was more favourable than probably either Hendei'son or the country expected. Tlie council granted the suspension required, until the king's further pleasui'e should be known ; but, for the remuneration of the king's printer, ordained by an express act, as the decision in Henderson's case was of course understood to apply to the whole kingdom, that each parish should provide itself with two <;opies of the book, but without any injunction to make use of them. The order for reading the liturgy was also suspended, until new instructions on the subject should lie received i'rom his majesty. The king's answer, however, to the representations of the privy council, at once overturned all hopes of conces- sion in the matter of the liturgy. Instead of giving way to the general feeling, lie repeated, in a still more peremptory manner than at first, his commands that tlie service book should be read, and farther ordered that no burgh should choose a magistrate which did not conform. This uncompromising and decided conduct on the part of the king was met by a similar spirit on the part of the people, and tiie path which Henderson had first taken ^vas soon crowded by the highest and mightiest in the land, all pushing onward with the utmost eagerness and zeal to solicit the recall of the ol>noxious liturgy, and discovering on each repulse and on the appearance of each successive obstacle to their wishes, a stronger and stronger disposition to have recourse to violence to accomplish their object, if supplication should fail. On tlie receipt of the king's last connnunication on the jtll-cngrossing subject of the service book, the nobility, barons, ministers, and HENDERSON. 21 representatives of borouglis, presented a supplication to the privy council, in- treating that the matter niiqlit be again brought before the Uing. In this and in all other matters connected \vith it, Henderson took a leading part : he suggested and directed all the proceedings of the nonconformists ; drew up their memo- rials and petitions, and uas, in short, at once the liead and right hand of his party, the deviser and executor of all their measures. The result of this second supplication to the king was as unsatisfactory as the first. The infatuated monarch, urged on by Laud, and in some measure by erro- neous impressions regarding the real state of matters in Scotland, still maintained his resolutions regarding tiie liturgy. He, however, now so far acknowledged tlie appeals which had been made to him, as to have recourse to evasion instead of dii'ect opposition as at first, a course at all times more dangerous than its oppo- site ; inasmuch, as while it exhibits all the hostility of the latter, it is entirely without its candour, and is destitute of that manfulness and promptitude, which, if it does not reconcile, is very apt to subdue. In place of giving any dii-ect answer to the supplication of the nobility and barons, the king instructed his privy council in Edinburgh to intimate to the people by pi-ocUimation, that there should be nothing regarding church matters treated of in the council for some time, and that, therefore, all persons who had come to Edinburgh on that account, should repair to their homes within twenty- four hours, on pain of being denounced rebels, put to the horn, and all their movable goods being escheat to the king. This proclamation was inunediately fol- lowed by another, announcing an intended removal of the court of session from Edinburgh to Linlithgow, and this again by a third, calling in, for the purpose of being burned, a pamphlet lately published against the service book. These proclamations, which but too plainly intimated that nothing would be conceded to supplication, and that there was no hope of any change in the sen- timents of the king, instantly called forth the most decided expressions of po- pular resentment and determination. The city was at this moment filled with strangers — noblemen, gentlemen, clergymen, and commissioners from the difierent parishes, besides immense numbers of persons of inferior rank, whom curiosity or interest in the engrossing topic of the day, had assembled in the me- tropolis from all parts of the country, 'ihe town, thus surcharged, as it were, with inflammable matter, soon became a scene of violence and insubordination. The leaders of the nonconformists again met in the midst of the storm, and in defiance of the proclamation which enjoined their departure, proceeded to deli- berate upon the question of what was next to be done. The result was some far- ther supplications and petitions to the privy council and to the king. 1 hese, how- ever, being still unsuccessful, were followed up some months afterwards by a de- termination to appeal to the people, to unite tliem in one common bond, and to make the cause at once and unecpjivocally, the cause of the whole nation. The leaders resolved to adopt a measure which should involve all in its results, be it for good or for evil : by which, in siiort, not a leader or leaders, nor a party, but an entire kingdom should stand or fall, by swearing before their God to peril the alternative. This measure was a renewal of the national covenant of 1580 and 1581, adapted, by changes and additions, to the existing circumstances. The re- modeled document was drawn up by Mr Henderson, with the assistance of the celebrated Archibald Johnstone, an advocate, and was fii-st exhibited for signa- ture, February "SSth, 1()3S, in the (irey Friars' church in Edinburgh, where an inmiense nmltitude had assembled, for the purpose of hailing tiie sacred docu- ment, and of testifying their zeal in tiie cause whidi it was intended to support, by subscribing it. On this occasion Henderson addressed the people with so 22 HENDERSON. much fervour and eloquence, tliat their feelings, already excited, were wound up to the liighest pitch, and a degree of enthusiasm pervaded the multitude which sufficiently assured their leaders of the popularity of their cause. The instru- ment itself, which was now submitted for signature, was a roll of parchment four feet long and three feet eight inches broad; yet such was the general zeal for the covenant, that this immense sheet was in a short time so crowded with names on both sides throughout its whole space, that there was not room latterly for a single additional signature ; even the margin was scrawled over with sub- scriptions, and as the document filled up, the subscribers were limited to the initial letters of their names. Copies were now sent to different parts of the kingdom, and met every where, excepting in three places to be afterwards named, with the same enthusiastic reception which had marked its appearance in Edinburgh, receiving thousands of signatures wherever it was exhibited. The three excepted places were Glasgow, St Andrews, and Aberdeen. In the two former, however, the feeling regarding the covenant amounted to little more than indifference ; but in the latter city it was absolutely resisted. Anxious to have the voice of all Scotland with them, and especially desirous that there should not be so important an exception as Aberdeen, the leaders of the covenanters des- patched several noblemen and two clergymen, one of whom vias Henderson, to that city, to attempt to reclaim it ; and this object, chiefly through the power- ful eloquence of the subject of this memoir, they accomplished to a very con- siderable extent, obtaining no less than five hundred signatures, many of them of the higliest respectability, immediately after the close of a discourse by Mr Henderson, in which he had urged the most irresistible arguments for the sub- scribing of the covenant. Mr Henderson was now universally acknowledged as the head of the nonconforming Scottish clergy. On his moderation, firmness, and talent, they reposed their hopes ; and to his judgment they left, with implicit confidence, the guidance and direction of their united efforts. Of this feeling towards him they were now about to afford a remarkable proof. 'Ihe king, though still without any intention of yielding to the demands of the covenan- ters, having consented that a General Assembly should be held, empowered his commissioner, the marquis of Hamilton, to convoke it. On the second day of the meeting of this celebrated assembly, which sat down at (Glasgow on the 21st November, 1G38, Mr Henderson was chosen nioderator, Avithout one single dis- senting voice. To form a correct idea of the general esteem for his amiable qualities, and the appreciation of his abilities which this appointment implied, it is necessary to consider all the singular and important circumstances connected with it — circumstances which altogether rendered it one of the utmost delicacy, difficulty, and hazard. He was, at a moment of the most formidable religious distraction, called upon to preside over an assembly whose decisions were either to allay or to promote that distraction ; who were to discuss points of serious difference between their sovereign and the nation ; Avho were to decide, in short, whether the nation was to proclaim open war against their sovereign — a sovereign backed by a nation of much greater power and larger population ; an assembly by whose proceedings the religious liberties of the kingdom were either to stand or fall, and one, in consequence, on which the eyes of the whole people were fixed with a gaze of the deepest and most intense interest. Impor- tant, however, and responsible as the appointment was, Henderson was found more than equal to it, for he conducted himself on this trying occasion not only with a prudence and resolution which increased the respect and admiration of his own party for his character and talents, but with a forbearance and urbanity wliich secured him also the esteem of those who were opposed to them. " We have now," said Henderson at the conclusion of the eloquent and impassioned HENDERSON. 23 address which terminated the sittings of the assembly, " we have now cast down the walls of Jericho ; let him that rebuildeth them beware of the curse of Hiel the Bethelite :" a sentence which comprised typically all that had been done and all that would be done in the event of such an attempt being made. Epis- copacy was overthrown, the king's authority put at detiance, and such an attitude of hostility to the court assumed as fell short only of a declaration of open war, Sucli Avas the accession of popularity which Henderson's conduct procured him on this occasion, that, a day or two before the rising of the assembly, two sup- plications were given in from two ditlerent places earnestly soliciting his pastoral services, the one from St Andrews, the other from Edinburgh. Henderson him- self was extremely unwilling to obey either of these calls. Strongly attached to Leuchars, the charge to which he had been first appointed, and which he had now held for many years, he could not reconcile himself to the idea of a re- moval, pleading in figurative but highly expressive language, that " he was now too old a plant to take root in another soil." The supplicants, however, with a flattering perseverance pressed their suits, and after a strenuous contest be- tween the two parties who sought Iiis ministry, he acquiesced in a removal to Edinburgh ; in favour of which tlie competition terminated by a majority of seventy-five votes. He only stipulated, that when old age should overtake him, he should be permitted to remove again to a country charge. Soon after his removal to Edinburgh, he was promoted to be, what was then called, first or kinq's minister. This change, however, in no way abated his zeal in the cause of the covenant ; he still continued to be the oracle of his party, and still stood with undisputed and unrivaled influence at the head of the church as now once more reformed. In the year after his translation to Edinburgh (1639) he was one of the com- missioners deputed by the Scottish army, then encamped on Dunse Law, to treat with the king, who, with his forces, had taken post at the Birks, a plain on the English side of the Tweed, within three or four miles of Berwick. During the whole of the various negotiations which took place at this critical and interesting conjuncture, Henderson conducted iiimself witii his usual ability, and moreover with a prudence and candour which did not escape the notice of the king. One of the well known results of these conferences was the meeting in Edinburgh of the General Assembly in the following month of August. On this occasion the earl of Traquair, who was now iiis majesty's commissioner, was extremely de- sirous that Mr Henderson should be i-e-elected moderator, a sufficient proof of the estimation in which he was held by men of all parties. The idea, however, of a constant moderatorship was exceedingly unpopular, and contrary to the constitution of the church ; and the suggestion of Traquair was overruled to the entire satisfaction of iMr Henderson himself, who was one of the most strenuous opponents of the proposition. As former modei-ator, however, lie preached to the assembly, and towards the close of his discourse, addressed the earl of Tra- quair — " We beseech your gi-ace," he said, " to see that ('ssar have his own ; but let him not have wliat is due to God, by whom kings reign, (iod hath ex- alted your grace unto many high places within these few years, and is still do- ing so. Be thankful,.and labour to exalt Christ's throne. When the Israelit«s came out of Egypt they gave all the silver and gold they had carried thence for the building of the tabernacle ; in like manner your grace nmst employ all your parts and endowments for building up the church of God in this land." He next addressed the members, urging them to persevere in the good c^iuse, but carefully inculcating prudence and moderation in all their doings ; for zeal, he said, without tliese, was " like a ship that hath a full sail, but no rudder." 2i HENDERSON. On the 31st of the same month, (August,) Mr Henderson was called upon to pi-eside, in his clerical capacity, at tlie opening of the parliament, and on that occasion delivered a most impressive discourse, in which he treated of the duties and utility of governors with singular ability and judgment. A pi'oof still more flattering, perhaps, than any he had yet received of the estimation in which his character and talents were held, was afforded him in the following year, (1640.) Previous to this period the college of Edinburgh was without any presiding officer to regulate its affairs, these receiving only such attention as might result fi'om an annual visit of the town council. As this was little more than a visit of ceremony, the system of education, and almost every thing else connected with the university, was in a most deplorable condition. To remedy these evils the town council came to the resolution of having a rector appointed, to be chosen annually, and Avhose duty it should be to direct all matters connected with the college, to keep an eye on the conduct of the prin- cipal and professors, and to superintend the education of the students, and the disposal of the revenues. To this honourable and highly responsible office Mr Henderson was unani- mously elected; an appointment not more indicative of the general opinion entertained of his moral qualities, than of his learning and abilities ; for besides the merely legislative duties which Avere connected with it, the rector, by the con- stitution of the office, was to be invited by the preses at all solemn meetings of the college, " to go before the rest in all public disputes of philosophy and divinity." Mr Henderson, notwithstanding his other various and important avocations, discharged the duties of this office with an attention, ability, and judgment, which soon placed the university on a very different footing from what it had hitherto been. He added to and iniproved its buildings and its approaches, be- stowed especial care on the education of candidates for the ministry, instituted a professorship of oriental languages, a department which had previously been greatly neglected, to the serious injury, in particular, of the students of divinity, whuse knowledge of the Hebrew was left to be gleaned from one short weekly lecture on that language ; and, in short, he overlooked nothing which could contribute to its interests and prosperity. His own personal influence, together with the high respectability which his sagacious administration had procured for the college, was so great, that the citizens of Edinburgh, with a spirit of emulation which was very far from existing before, strove who should most contribute to the accom- modation of its members. The consequence of these judicious and important services was, that Mr Henderson was continued, by re-election, in the office of rector till his death. From these peaceful pursuits Henderson was occasionally directed to take a share in the renewed distractions of the times. The king having refused to ratify some of the points agreed upon at the Birks, both parties again took up arms: Charles denouncing the covenanters as rebels, marched towards Scotland with an army; while the latter, with three or four and twenty thousand men, penetrated into England. Some partial successes of. the Scottish army on this occasion, together with some defections in his own, again brought the unfortu- nate monarch to pacificatory terms Avith the covenanters. A conference was be- gun rd Kippon, and afterwards, as the king's presence was required in London, transferred to that city. The commissioners who were despatched thither by the covenanters to conclude the conference, took with them several of the most po- pular of the clergy, and amongst these was IMr Henderson, on Avhose talents they relied for all the subsidiary efforts which were at once to bring the conference to an issue satisfactory to themselves, and to impress the English with a favour- HENDERSON. 25 able opinion of their cause. Both of these objects they acconiplislied, and that in no small measure by means of the impressive elofjuence and literary talents of Mr Henderson, who, besides exerting himself in the pulpit and elsewhere in for- warding the views of the commissioners by discourses and lectures, wrote also several able tracts and papers wiiich attracted much attention, and produced im- portant effects in favour of the cause Avhich he had come to support. During Mr Henderson's stay in London on this occasion, he had an interview with the king, by whom he was graciously received. The conference was a private one, and although on the part of Henderson it was sought specially for the purpose of soliciting a favour for the university of Edinburgh, it is not un- likely that it embraced objects of much greater interest. On his return to Edinburgh in July, 1641, having been detained in London nine months, he was again chosen moderator of the General Assembly, then sitting at Edinburgh, and which had removed thither from St Andrews, where it first met, for the greater conveniency of the nobles who were attending parliament, and, a striking proof of his importance, that it might at this critical period have the advantages of Mr Henderson's services as moderator. On this occasion Mr Henderson delivered to the assembly a letter from a number of ministers in London, recjuesting the advice of their Scottish brethren on certain points of church government. In some perplexity they had written, " That al- mighty God having now of his infinite goodness raised up our hopes of removing the yoke of episcopacy, (under which we have so long groaned,) sundry other forms of church government are by sundry sorts of men projected to be set up in the room thereof." Henderson was instructed to reply to this letter. In his answer he expressed, in the name of the assembly, the deep interest which they took in the state of what they called, by a somewhat startling association of words, the kirk of England, and earnestly urged a uniformity in chui-ch government throughout Britain. Soon after this (14th August) the unfortunate Charles ar- rived in Edinburgh. Foreseeing the approaching Avar between himself and his English parliament, he had come down to Scotland with the humiliating view of paying court to the leaders of the presbyterian faction, and of following up, by personal condescensions, the concessions by which he had already recovered, for the time at least, the favour of that party ; thus hoping to secure the aid of Scotland when he should be assailed by his subjects at home; — the unhappy monarch's situation thus much resembling that of a bird closely pursued by a hawk, and which, preferring a lesser to a greater evil, flies to man for protec- tion. On this occasion the king appointed Mr Henderson his chaplain, and by this well judged proceeding at once gratified the people, whose favourite preacher he had long been, and not improbably also gratified his own predilection in his favour, resulting from Henderson's temper and moderation in those instances where tliey had been brought in contact. Henderson constantly attended the king during the time of his residence in Edinburgh, praying every morning and evening before him, and preaching to him in the chapel royal at Holyrood house every Sunday, or standing by his chair when anotlier performed that duty. Henderson, who, although of incorruptible integrity, and a zealous presbyterian, as the share which he took in the struggles of that party sufficiently witness, uas yet a mild and humane man, could not help sympathizing with the sorrows of his unfortunate sovereign. The religion of which he was so eminent a profes- sor, taught him to entertain charitable and benevolent feelings toward all man- kind, and his was not the disposition to except an humbled and unhappy prince from this universal precept, whatever were the faults which had placed him in these melancholy circumstances. The mild and amiable disposition of the man, too, which frequent interviews must have forced upon Henderson's notice, must III. n 26 HENDERSON. Iiave in some measure obliterated in his mind the errors of tiie nionai'ch. It was hard, then, that Henderson for this sympathy, for opening his lieart to the best feelings of humanity, for practising one of the first and most amiable virtues which the Christian religion teaches and enjoins, should have been, as he was, subjected to the most bitter calumnies on his character and motives. These «;alumnies affected his pure and generous nature deeply, and in the next assem- bly he entered into a long and impassioned defence of those parts of his con- duct which slander had assailed. His appeal touched the hearts and excited the sympathy of his brethren, who assured him of their unshaken confidence in his integrity. 'Ihis assurance restored the worthy divine to that cheerfulness of which the in- jurious reports which had gone abroad I'egarding him had for some time de- prived him. If any thing were wanting to establish Henderson's character for integrity besides the public testimony of his brethren, it is to be found in the opinion of one who widely differed from him regarding the measures of the day, bearing witness that " his great honesty and unparalleled abilities to serve this church and kingdom, did ever remain untainted." In 1642, Mr Henderson conducted the correspondence with England which now took place on the subject of ecclesiastical reformation and union, and was soon after dasired to hold himself in readiness with certain other commissioners to proceed to England, in the event of such a proceeding being necessary. After some delay, o<;casioned by the open rupture which took place between the king and tlie English parliament, Henderson, with the other commissioners, set out for the sister kingdom. While there he used every effort, but un- fortunately to no purpose, to efl'ect a reconciliation between Charles and his English subjects; he proposed to the king to send the queen to Scotland, with the view of exciting an interest in his behalf. He even went to Oxford, Avhere the king then was, to endeavour to prevail upon him at a personal interview, to make some advances towards a reconciliation, and at the same time to ofliir him the mediation of Scotland. All his efforts, however, were unavailing ; the king, in place of acknowledging error, endeavoured to defend the justice of his cause, and on better grounds expressed high indignation at the interference of the Scots in the church reformation of England. Finding he could be of no further service, Henderson, together with his colleagues, returned to Edinburgh, where his conduct throughout the whole of this delicate mission Avas pronounced by the (jeneral Assembly to have been " faithful and wise." In 1643, he was once more chosen moderator of the General Assembly under peculiar circumstances. This was the presence in that body of the English commissioners sent down to Scotland by the parliament of England, to solicit the aid and counsel of the former in their present emergency. Mr Hendei'son, with several other commissioners, was soon after sent up to London to attend the celebrated Westminster assembly of divines, to represent in that assembly the church of Scotland, and to procure its assent, with that of both houses of parliament, to the solemn league and covenant, all of which important duties, with the assistance of his colleagues, he discharged Avith his usual ability and judgment. On this occasion he remained for three years in London, dui-ing all wliich time he was unremittingly employed in assisting the assembly in pre- paring the public formularies of the religious union between the three king- doms. In 1645, he was appointed to assist the commissioners of the Scottish and English parliaments to treat with the king at Uxbridge, and finally, was deputed to negotiate Avith the latter Avhen his fortunes had reached a crisis, at Newcastle. Henderson arrived on his mission at NcAvcastle about the middle of iWay, 1646, and met Avith a cordial reception from his majesty. After some HENDERSON. 27 discussion on religious subjects, it uns agreed that the s(;ruples of the king should be treated of in a series of papers written alternately by liis ni.i jesty and Henderson. In the last of these papers, addressed by the former to the latter, and all of whicii and on both sides were written with great talent, tiie king at once expressing his high opinion of Mr Henderson, and Ris determination to adhere to the sentiments which he had all along entertained, says, " For in- stance, I think you the best preacher in Newcastle, yet I believe you may err, and possibly a better preacher may come, but till then must retain my opinion.' Immediately after this, Henderson, whose health was now much impaired, re- turned to Edinburgh by sea, being unable to bear the fatigue of travelling by land. The illness with which he was afflicted rapidly gained upon him, and Iih at length expired on the I9th of August, 1G46, in the 63d year of his age, not many days after his return from Newcastle. After the death of this celebrated man, his memory was assailed by several absurd and unfounded calumnies. It Avas alleged that he died of mortiiicxition at his having been defeated in the controversy ^vith the king ; others asserted that he had been converted by the latter, and that on his death-bed he had expressed regret for the part he had acted, and had renounced presbytery. All of these charges were completely re- futed by the General Assembly, who, taking a becoming and zealous interest in the good name of their departed brother, established his innocence on the testi- mony of several clergymen, and still more decisively by that of the two wiio attended him on his death-bed, and who heard him in his last moments pray earnestly for a " happy conclusion to the great and wonderful work of Refor- mation." Henderson was interred in the (^rayfriars' church-yard, where a monument was erected to his memory by his nephew Mr George Henderson. This monument, which wiis in the foi-ni of an obelisk, with suitable inscriptions' on its four sides, was, with others of the leading covenanters, demolished at the Kestoration, but was again replaced at the Revolution. This sketch of one of the most eminent divines that Scotland has produced can- not be better concluded than in the eloquent and accurate sunnnation of his charac- ter by the Rev. George Cook, in his " History of the Church of Scotland." " In Henderson," says that judicious and able wi'iter, *' the church and the kingdom experienced a severe loss. He liad from an e.arly period acquired a decided ascendancy over ecclesiastical proceedings, and with considerable learning and great talents he conjoined a justness of sentiment and a modei'ation which, though not sufHcient to stem the ton-ent, often gave to it a salutary direction. Zealous for his party, and deeply impressed with the importance of setting bounds to the prerogative, he cordially joined in the measures requisite for doing so, but there is every reason to believe that had his life been preserved, he would have exerted himself to restrain the violent dissensions and the un- christian practices which ere long disgraced those with whom he had associated, and that he would gladly have contributed to rescue his luifortunate sovereign from the melancholy fate which awaited him. His death was justly lamented by the covenanters. 1 hey had been accustomed to venerate him as their guide ; they had left to him the choice of the most dilhcult steps, which, in resisting episcopal tyranny, they had been (compelled to take ; his memory was associated with one of the most interesting struggles in which his countrymen had ever been engaged, and they honoured that memory by every expression of esteem, ' The eiist siile of the monument is thus inscribed, " To the sacred memory of !\lr Alex- ander Henderson, chaplain to the king, minister at Edinburgh, and pri mar of the college thiire, who was a scholar at St Andrews colli ge, and a bountiful enlarger and patron theriv of." On the inscription on the nortli side he is described as " a godl) man and iruely great ; illustrious in all manner of vertue, piet) , learning, and prudence, eqiuiUv beloved b\ "the king and estates of both kingdoms." 28 HENRY. * transmitting by monumental inscriptions and by solicitude, to rescue him from misrepresentation, their deep regret that they uere for ever deprived of his as- sistance which their critical situation and the highly agitated state of the public luind Avould then have rendered peculiarly important" HENRY, (Dr) Robert, an eminent historian, was born in the parish of St Ninians in Stirlingshire, on the ISth of February, 1718 ; — his father was James Henry, a respectable farmer in 3Iuirtovvn of the same parish, who had married the daughter of Mr Galloway of Burrowmeadow in Stirlingshiie. As a respect- able farmer's son, young Henry enjoyed opportunities of instruction beyond the average of those who study for the church in Scotland, and he found little diffi- culty in indulging his inclination to become a member of a learned profession. He commenced his education under IMr Nicholson of the parish school of St Ninians, and having attended the grammar school of Stirling, perfected himself in his literary and philosophical studies at the university of Edinbui'gh. After leaving that institution, he occupied himself in teaching, the usual resource of the expectants of the Scottish church, and became master of the grammar school of Annan. The district in which he was so employed was soon afterwards erected into a separate presbytery, and Henry was admitted as its first licentiate, on the 27th of March, 1746. In 1748, he was ordained as clergyman of a congregation of presbyterians at Carlisle. Here he remained for twelve years, when he was transferred to a similar dissenting congTCgation at Berwick upon Tweed. In 1763, he married Ann Balderston, daughter of Thomas Bal- derston, surgeon in Berwick. Little is said of this lady by Henry's biogra- phers, except in reference to the domestic happiness she conferred on her hus- band. During his residence at Berwick, Dr Henry applied his active mind to tiie preparation of a scheme for establishing a fund to assist the widows and orphans of the dissenting clergymen in the north of England. The admirable fund which had some time previously been so firmly and successfully established for bestowing similar benefits on the families of the clergy of Scotland, formed the model of his imitation ; but in assimilating the situation of a dissenting to that of an established church, he laboured under the usual difficulties of those who raise a social fabric which the laws will not recognize and protect. The funds which, in Scotland, were supplied by the annual contribution of the clergy, enforced by act of pai-liament, depended, in the English institution, on the so- cial and provident spirit of its members. The perseverance of Henry overcame many of the practical difficulties thus thrown in his way : the fund was placed on a permanent footing in the year 1762, and Henry, having for some years un- dertaken its management, had afterwards the satisfaction to see it flourish, and increase in stability and usefulness as he advanced in years. The design of his elaboi-ate history, w hich must have gi-adually developed itself in the course of his early studies, is said to have been finally formed during his residence in Berwick, and he commenced a course of inquiry and reading, which he found that the resources of a provincial town, and the assistance of his literary friends in more favoured situations, were quite incapable of supplying for a subject so vast and intricate, as that of a complete history of Britain from the invasion of Julius Caesar. In this situation Dr Henry found a useful friend in Mr Laurie, provost of Edinburgh, who had married his sister. The interest of this gentle- man procured for his brother-in-law, in the year 1768, an appointment to the ministry of the new Grey Friar's church in Edinburgh, whence, in 1776, he was removed to the collegiate charge of the Old Church. In the extensive public libraries of Edinburgh, Dr Henry found means of pro- secuting his researches with efl'ect. 'I'he first volume of his history was publish- ed in quarto in the year 1771, the second appeared in 1774, the third in 1777, HENRY. 29 the fourth in 1781, and the fifth in 1785. The method of treating the subject was original and bold, and one the assumption of which left the author no excuse for ignorance on any subject which had the slightest connexion with the cus- toms, intellects, and history of our forefathers, or the constitution of the king- dom. The subject was in the first place divided into periods, which were con- sidered separately, each period occupying a volume. The volume was divided into seven chapters, each containing a distinct subject, linked to the correspond- ing subject in the next volume by continuance of narrative, and to the other cliapters of the same volume by identity of the period discussed. The subjects thus separated were — 1st, The simple narrative of the civil and military transac- tions of the country — 2d, The ecclesiastical history — 3d, The information which is generally called constitutional, narrating and accounting for the rise of the peculiarities in the form of government, the laws, and the courts of justice — 4th, The state of learning, or rather the state of literature which may be called purely scholastic, excluding the fine arts, and constitutional and political information — 5th, The history and state of arts and manufac- tures — Gtli, A history of commerce, including the state of shipping, coin, and the prices of commodities ; and lastly, The history of the manners, customs, amusements, and costumes of the people. — The writer of a book on any subject on which he is well informed, will generally choose that manner of explaining In's ideas best suited to his information and comprehension. It may be ques- tioned whether the plan pursued by Heni*y was adapted for the highest class of historical composition, and if the other great historians who flourished along with him, would have improved their works by following his complicated and elaborate system. It is true that mere narrative, uninterwoven with I'eflection, and such information as allows us to look into the hearts of the actors, is a gift entirely divested of the qualities which make it useful ; but there are various means of qualifying the narrative — some have given their constitutional infor- mation in notes, or detached passages ; others have woven it beautifully into the narrative, and presenting us with the full pictui-e of the times broadly and truly coloured, have prevented the mind from distracting itself by searching for the motives of actions through bare narrative in one part of the work, and a variety of influencing motives to be found scattei-ed thi-ough another. The plan, which we may say was invented by Dr Henry, has only been once imitated, (unless it can be said that the acute and laborious Hallam has partly followed his arranoe- ment.) The imitator was a Scotsman, the subject he encountered still more ex- tensive than that of Henry, and the ignorance the author displayed in some of its minute branches excited ridicule. This is an instance of the chief danger of the system. The acquisition of a sufficient amount of information, and regularity in the aiTangement, are the matters most to be attended to; Henry's good sense taught him the latter, his perseverance accomplished the former, and the author made a complete and useful work, inferior, certainly, as a great literary j)ro- duction, to the works of those more gifted historians who mingled reflection with the cuiTcnt of their narrative, but better suited to an intellect which did not soar above the tranmiels of such a division of subject, and wliich might have fal- len into confusion without them. The circumstances of the first appearan«;e of the earlier volinnes of this useful book are interesting to the world, from their having raised against the author a storm of hostility and deadly animosity almost unmatched in the annals of liter- ary warfare. The chief persecutor, and gi-and master of this inquisition on re- putation, was the irascible Dr (iilbert Stuart. The cause of his animosity against a wortliy and inoffensive man, can only be accounted for by those whose pene- tration may find its way to the deptlis of literary jealousy. 30 HENRY. The letters of Stuart on the subject, have been carefully collected by D'ls- raeli, and published in his " Calamities of Authors," and when coupled with such traces of the influence of the persecutor as are to be found scattered here and there among the various periodicals of the age, furnish us with the painful picture of a man of intelligence and liberality, made a fiend by literary hate. Stuart connnenced his dark work in the " Edinburgh Magazine and Review," established under his auspices in 1773. Dr Henry had pi-eached before the Society (in Scotland) for Promoting Christian Knowledge, a sermon entitled " Revelation the most effectual means of civilizing and reforming mankind," and in pursuance of the custom on such occasions, the sermon was published. The sermon was as similar to all others of its class, as any given piece of mechanism can be to all others intended for similar purposes ; but Stuart dis- covered audacity in the attempt, and unexpected failure in the execution ; it required " the union of philosophy and political skill, of erudition and elo- quence, qualities which he was sorry to observe appeared here in no eminent degree."' Dr Macqueen published a letter in an anonymous form, defending the sennon, and the hidden literary assassin boldly maintained it to be the woj'k of Dr Henry, an accusation not withdrawn till the respectable author an- nounced himself to the world. Dr Henry was soon after appointed by the magistrates to the situation of morning lecturer to the Tron church. Under the disguise of the communication of a correspondent, who mildly hints that the consequence of the proceeding will be a suit against the magistrates, we find the rounded periods of Stuart denouncing the act in those terms in which indignant virtue traces the mazes of vice and deceit, as '' affording a pre- cedent from which the mortifications of the pious, may be impiously prostituted to uses to which they were never intended." In token of high respect, tlie General Assembly had chosen Dr Henry as their moderator, on his first return as a member of that venerable body ; and being thus marked out as a leader in the affairs of the church, he took a considerable share in the proceedings of the ensuing session. Here his enemy keeps an unsleeping eye on his motions. Whilst the speeches of others are unnoticed or reported in their native simplicity, the narrator prepares himself for the handling of a choice morsel when he ap- proaches the historian. " The opinion of one member," he observes, " we shall lay before the reader, on account of its singularity. It is that of Dr Henry, the moderator of last assembly;"" and then he proceeds to attract the finger of scorn towards opinions as ordinary as any opinions could well be conceived. The Doctor cannot even absent himself from a meeting without the circumstance being i-emarked, and a cause assigned which will admit the application of a pre- concerted sneer. Dr Robertson was the opponent of Dr Henry in this assem. bly. The periodical writer was the enemy of both, and his ingenuity has been taxed to bestow ridicule on both parties. Stuart at length slowly approaches the head and front of his victim's offending, and fixes on it with deadly eager- ness. After having attacked the other vulnerable points of the author, he ruslies i-avenously on his history, and attempts its demolition. He finds that the unfor- tunate author " neither furnishes entertainment nor instruction. Diffuse, vulgar, and ungrammatical, he strips history of all her ornaments. His conces- sions are evidently contradictory to his conclusions. It is thus perpetually with authors who examine subjects which they cannot comprehend. He has amassed all the refuse and lumber of the times he would record." " The mind of his readers is affected with no agreeable emotions, it is awakened only to disgust ' Edinburgh R( vi(;\v and Magazine, i. 109. 2 Edinburgh Iveviuw and Magazine, i. 357. HENRY. 31 and fatigue."^ But Stuart was not content witli persecution at lioine, he wished to add the weapons of others to his own. For this purpose he procured a wor- thy associate, Whitaker, the historian of Manchester, and author of the " (Genuine History of the Britons." Stuart, a vague theorist in elegant and sonorous diction, who was weak enough to believe that his servile imitations of Montesquieu raised him to a parallel with that great man, associated himself in this work of charity with a minute and pugnacious antiquary, useful to literature from the sheer labour he had encountered, but eminently subject to the prejudices to which those who confine their laborious investigations to one narrow branch of knowledge, are exposed ; — a person who would expend many quarto pages in discussing a flint arrow-head or a tumulus of stones, occasionally attempting with a broken wing to follow tlie flights of Gibbon, but generally as flat and sterile as the plains in Avhich he strove to trace Roman encampments ; two more uncongenial spirits liardly ever attempted to woi-k in concert. It may easily be supposed that the minute antiquary looked with jealousy on the extended theories of his generalizing colleague ; and the generalizer, though he took oc- casion to praise the petty investigations of the antiquai-y, probably regarded them in secret with a similar contempt. But Stuart found the natural malignity of Whitaker a useful conmiodity; and the calm good sense of Henry afforded them a common object of hatred. A few extracts will give the best display of the spirit of Stuart's conmmnications to his friends during his machina- tions. " David Hume wants to review Henry: but that task is so precious, that I will undertake it myself. Moses, wei-e he to ask it as a favour, should not have it ; yea, not even the man after (iod's own heart. I wish I coultl transport myself to London to review him for the Monthly — a fire there, and in the Critical, would perfectly annihilate him. Could you do nothing in the latter? To the former I suppose David Hume has transcribed the criticism he intended for us. It is pi-ecious, and would divert you. I keep a proof of it in my cabinet, for the anmsement of friends. This great pliilosopher begins to dote.* To-morrow morning Henry sets off for London, with immense hopes of selling his history. I wish sincerely that I could enter Holborn the same hour with him. He should liave a repeated (ire to combat with. I en- treat that you may be so kind as to let him feel some of your thunder. I shall never forget the favour. If Wliitaker is in London, he could give a blow. I'aterson will give him a knock. Strike by all means. The wretch will trem- ble, grow pale, and return with a consciousness of his debility. I have a thou- sand thanks to give you for your insertion of the paper in the London Chronicle, and for the part you propose to act in regard to Henry. I could wish that you knew for certain his being in London before you strike the first 3 Edinburgh Review nnd iMagaziiu-, vol i. p. 26(3 — 270. * D'Israeli's CJalaniiiies of Autliois, ii. (j7. '1 lie author appends in a note " The critique on Henry, in the INIoiithly Review, was written by Hume, and because the philosopher was candid, lie is here said to have doted." We suspect this is erroneous, and founded on mere presumption. We have carefully read the two critiques on Henry in tlie MontJiIy lieview, which appeared previous to Hume's death. The elegance and profundity of Hume are want- ing, and in giving an opinion of the work, which is moderate and toliral)l\ just, the Reviewer coeiipares it somewhat disparagingly with the works of Hume and Robertson, a piece of con- ceit and afl'ect^ition which the great philosopher would not have condescended to perpetrate. That Hume prepared and published a Review of Henr\'s book we have no doubt. In tJie Ediidjurgh Magazine lor 1791, and in the Gentleman's INifagazine for tht; same year, a critique is quoted, the work " of one of the most eminent historians of the present age, whose history of the sjime periods justly possesses the highest reputation." Without the aid of such a state- ment, thestjle stiimps the author, and we may have occasion to quote it in the text as the woikof Hume. Where it made its first appearance, a search through the principal periodi- cals of the day has not enabled us to discover. It is in the first person singular, and ma} have been in the form of a letter to the editor of a newspa|)er. 32 HENRY. blow. An inquiry at Cadell's will give this. When you have an enemy to at- tack, I shall in retui-n give my best assistance, and aim at him a mortal blow ; and rush forward to his overthrow, though the flames of hell should start up to oppose me." Henry was not in possession of the poisoned weapons Avhich would have enabled him to retaliate, and his good sense and equanimity of mind were no permanent protection against assaults so unceasing and virulent. He felt him- self the personal subject of ridicule and perversion, his expected gains denied, and the fame which he expected from years of labour and retirement snatched from his grasp by the hand of a ruffian.^ In the midst of these adversities Henry went to London for actual shelter, but the Avatchful enemy observed his motions — attacks were inserted in one print and copied into another — the influ- ence of his persecutor is widely perceptible in the periodical literature of the age. The Critical Review had praised the first volume of his history. The second meets with a veiy dilftrent reception : " it is with pain the reviewer observes, that in proportion as his narrative and inquiries are applied to cultivated times, his diligence and labour seem to relax," and a long list of alleged inaccu- racies, chiefly on minute and disputed points, follows: the style is evidently not the natural language of the pompous Stuart, but it is got up in obedience to his directions on the vulnerable points of the historian, and the minuteness hints at the hand of Whitaker. Henry answered by a moderate letter defending his opinions, and acknowledging one mistake. The reviewer returns to his work Avith reno- vated vigour, and among other things accuses the historian of wilfully perverting authority. The charge of dishonesty rouses the calm divine, and with some severity he produces the wortls of the authority, and the use he has made of them. The editor claims the merit of candour for printing the communication, and as there is no gainsaying the fact it contains, appends an obscure hint which seems tc intimate he knows more than he chooses to tell ; a mode of backing out of a mistake not uncommon in periodical works, as if the editorial dignity were of so delicate a natui-e as not to bear a candid and honourable confession of error. Years afterwards, it is siugulai* to discover the Critical Review returning to its ori- ginal tone, and lauding the presence of qualities of which it had found occasion to censure the want. Stuart associated himself with his friend Whitaker in conduct- ing the English Review in 1783, and it is singula!', that amidst the devastation of that irascible periodical, no blow is aimed at Henry. But Stuart did not neglect his duty in the Political Herald, published in 1785, an able disturber of the tranquillity of literature, of which he ^vas the sole conductor. Here he gave his last and deepest stab ; accusing the venerable historian in terms the most bitter and vituperative, of a hankering after language and ideas, unworthy of his profession ; concluding with the observation that " an extreme attention to smut in a presbyterian cler- gyman, who has reached the last scene of his life, is a deformity so shocking, that no language of reprobation is strong enough to chastise it."'' The heartless insinuation was probably dictated by tlie consciousness that, whether true or false, no charge would be more acutely felt by the simple-minded divine. Stuart had, however, a very acute eye towards the real failings of Henry, and in his Protean attacks, he has scarcely left one of them without a brand. It was not without reason that he said to his London coi-respondent, " If you would only transcribe his jests, it would make him perfectly ridiculous." Henry was fond of garnish- 5 Behold the triumph of the calumniator in the success of his labours: " I see every day that what is written to a man's disparagement is never forgot nor forgiven. Poor Henry is on the point of death, and his friends declare that I have killed him; I receivetl the information as a compliment, and begged they would not do me so much honour." DTsraeli's Calami- ties, li. 72. » Political Herald, v. i. p. 209. HENRY. 33 ing with a few sallies of wit, his pictures of human folly ; but he was unhappy in the bold attempt. They had too much pleasing simplicity and good-humoured grotesqueness for the purpose to which they were applied. More like the good- natured humour of Goldsmith, than the piercing sarcasm of Voltaire, they might have served to strike the lighter foibles exhibited in our daily path ; but to attack the grander follies of mankind displayed in history, it may be said they did not possess sufficient venom to make formidable so light a weapon as wit. We have been so much engrossed with the dreary details of malignity, that we will scarcely find room for many other details of Henry's life ; but the histoi-y of the book is the history of the author — in its fate is included all that the world need care to know, of the unassuming indindual who composed it. It is with pleasure, then, that we turn to the brighter side ; Henry calmly weathered out the storm which assailed him, and in his gi-een old age, the world smiled upon his labours. Hume, who had so successfully trod the same field, was the first to meet Henry's book with a welcome hearty and sincei'e ; he knew the difficulties of the task, and if he wJis sufficiently acute to observe that Henry was fur behind himself, neither jealousy nor conceit provoked him to give utterance to such feelings. " His historical narratives," says this able judge, " are as full as those remote times seem to demand, and at the same time, his inquiries of the antiquarian kind omit nothing which can be an object of doubt or curiosity. ^ he one as well as the other is delivered with great perspicuity, and no less propri- ety, which are the true ornaments of this kind of writing ; all superfluous embellishments are avoided ; and the reader will hardly find in our language any performance that unites together so perfectly the tAvo great points of enter- tainment and instruction." Dr Henry had printed the first edition of the first five volumes of his book at his own risk, but on a demand for a new edition, he entered into a transaction with a bookseller, which returned him £3300. In the middle of its cai'eer the work secured royal attention ; lord Mansfield recom- mended the author to George the Third, and his majesty " considering his dis- tinguished talents, and great literai-y merit, and the importance of the very use- ful and laborious work in which he was so successfully engaged, as titles to his royal countenance and favour," bestowed on him a pension of a £100 a-year. For the honour of royal munificence, it is to be hoped that the gift was the reward of labour and literary merit, and not (as the author's enemies have proclaimed) the wages of the political principles he inculcated. The insinuation is, indeed, not without ap]»ai*ent foundation. Henry, if not a perverter of history in favour of arbitrary power, is at least one of those prudent speculators who are apt to look on government as something established on fixed and perma- nent principles, to which all opposing interests must give way — on the govern- ment as something highly respectable, — on the mass of the people as somathing not quite so respectable— on the community as existing for the government, and not on the government as adapted to the conveniences of the community. Five volumes of Dr Henry's history appeared before his death, and the ample materials he had left for the completion of the sixth were afterwards edited by Mr Laing, and a continuation was written by Mr I'ctit Andrews. 'Ihe laborious author prepared the whole for the press with his own hand, notwithstanding a tremulous disorder, Avhich compelled him to write on a book placed on his knee. In the latter yeai-s of his life, he retired to Milnfield, about twenty miles from Edinburgh, where lie enjoyed the coinpany of his friend and relative, 31r Laiuie. In 178(5, his constitution began visibly to decline ; but he continued his labours till 1790. About that period his wife was affected with blindness from a cata- ract, and he accompanied her to Edinburgh, where she submitted to the usuai operation, which, liowever, had not the desired effect during her husband's life- lU. E 34 HENRYSON. time. Dr Henry died on the 24th of November, 1790, in the 73d year of his age The fifth edition of the History of Britain was published in 1823, in twelve volumes 8vo. A French ti'anslation was published in 1789-^96, by MM. Rowland and Cantwell. HENRYSON, Edward, LL.D., an eminent civilian and classical scholar, and a senator of the College of Justice. The period of the birth of this eminent man is unknown, but it must have taken place early in the sixteenth century. Pre- viously to the year 1551, we find him connecting himself, as most Scotsmen of talent and education at that period did, with the learned men on the continent, and distinguishing himself in his knowledge of civil law, a science which, although it was the foundation of the greater part of the municipal law of Scot- land, he could have no ready means of acquiring in his own country. This study lie pursued at the university of Bruges, under the tuition of Equinar Baro, an eminent civilian, with whom he afterwards lived on terms of intimacy and strong- attachment. It is probable that he owed to this individual his introduction to a munificent patron, who afterwards watclied and assisted his progress in the world. Ulric Fugger, lord of Kirchberg and Weissenhome, a Tyrolese nobleman, who had previously distinguished himself as the patron of the eminent Scottish civilian, Scrimger, extended an apparently ample literary patronage to Henryson, admit- ting him to reside within his castle, amidst an ample assortment of valuable books and manuscripts, and bestowing on him a regular pension. Henryson after- wards dedicated his works to his patron, and the circumstance that Baro inscribed some of his commentaries on the Roman law to the same individual, prompts us to think it probable that Henryson owed the notice of Fugger to the recommen- dation of his kind preceptor.' Dempster, who in his life of Henryson, as usual, refers to authors who never mention his name, and some of whom indeed wrote before he had acquired any celebrity, maintains that he translated into Latin (probably about this period, and while he resided in Fugger's castle) the " Cora- mentarium Stoicorum Contrariorum " of Plutarch ; and that he did so must be credited, as the work is mentioned in Quesnel's Bibliotheca Thuana ; but the book appears to have dropped out of the circle of literature, and it is not now to be found in any public library we are aware of. In the year 1552, he i-eturned to Scotland, where he appears to have practised as an advocate. The protection and hospitality he had formerly received from the Tyrolese nobleman, Avas continued to him by Henry Sinclair, then dean of Glasgow, afterwards bishop of Ross, and president of the Court of Session ; — thus situated, he is said to have translated the Encheiridion of Epictetus, and the Commentaries of Arrian ; but the fruit of his labours was never published, and the manuscript is not known to be in existence. Again Henryson returned to the continent, after having remained in his native country for a short period, and the hospitable mansion of Fugger was once more open for his reception. About this period Baro, whom we have mentioned as Hen- ryson's instructor in law, published a Tractatus on Jurisdiction, which met an attack from the civilian Govea, which, according to the opinion expressed by Henryson, as an opponent, did more honour to his talents than to his equanimity and can- dour. Henryson defended his master, in a controversial pamphlet of some length, entering with vehemence into the minute distinctions which, at that period, dis- tracted the intellects of the most eminent jurisconsults. This work is dedicated to his patron Fugger. He was in 1554 chosen professor of the civil law at Bruges, a university in which one who wrote a century later states him to have left behind him a strong recollection of his talents and virtues. In 1555, he published another work on civil law, entitled *' Commentatio in Tit. X. Libri ' Vide the dedication to Tractatus de Jurisdictione Henryson! , Meerman's Thesaurus, vol. ii. HENRYSON. 35 Secundi Institutionum de Testamentis Ordinandis." It is a sort of running commentary on the title of which it professes to treat ; was dedicated to Michael D'Hospital, chancellor of France, and had the good fortune along with his previous Tractatus, to be engrossed in the great Thesaurus Juris Civilis et Canonici of Gerard Meerraan, an honour which has attached itself to the works of few Scottish civilians. Henryson appears, soon after the publication of this work, to have resigned his professorship at Bruges, and to have returned to Scotland, where lucrative prospects were opened to his ambition. A very noble feature in the history of the Scottish courts of law, is the atten- tion with which the legislature in early periods provided for the interests of the poor. Soon after the erection of the College of Justice, an advocate was named and paid, for conducting the cases of those whose pecuniary circumstances did not permit them to conduct a law-suit ; and Henryson was in 1557 appointed to the situation of counsel for the poor, as to a gi'eat public office, receiving as a salary £20 Scots, no very considerable sum even at that period, but equal to one-half of the salary allowed to the lord advocate. When the judicial privileges which the Roman catholic clergy had gTadually engrossed from the judicature of the country, were considered no longer the indispensable duties and privileges of churchmen, but more fit for the care of temporal judges, Henryson was appointed in 1563 to the office of commissary, with a salary of 300 merks. Secretary Maitland of Lethington having in January, 1566, been appointed an ordinary, in place of being an extraordinary, lord of session, Henryson Avas appointed in his stead, filling a situation seldom so well bestowed, and generally, instead of being filled by a profound legal scholar, reserved for such scions of great families, as the government could not easily employ otherwise. Henryson was nominated one of the commission appointed in May, 1566, " for viseing, correcting, and imprenting the Laws and Acts of parliament." Of the rather carelessly arranged volume of the Acts of the Scottish parliament, from 1424 to 1564, which the commission produced in six months after its appointment, he was the ostensible editor, and wrote the preface ; and it was probably as holding- such a situation, or in reward for his services, that in June, 1566, he received an exclusive privilege and license *' to imprent or cause iniprent and sell, the Lawis and Actis of Parliament ; that is to say, the bukes of Law callit Regiam Majestatem, and the remanent auld Lawis and Actis of Parliament, consequentlie maid be progress of time unto the dait of thir presentis, viseit, sychtit, and cor- rectit, be the lordis commissaris speciallie deput to the said viseing, sychting, and correcting thairof, and that for the space of ten yeires next to cum."" In November, 1567, he was removed from the bench, or, in the words of a con- temporary, taken " off sessions, because he was one of the king's council."" This is the only intimation we have of his having held such an office ; and it is a rather singular cause of removcil, as the king's advocate was then entitled to sit on the bench, and was frequently chosen from among the lords of session. Henryson was one of the procurators for the church in 1573. The period of his death is not known, but he must have been alive in 157!), as lord Forbes at that time petitioned parliament that he might be appointed one of the conmiis- sioners for deciding the differences betwixt the Forbeses and (Gordons. Henryson has received high praise as a jurisconsult, by some of his brethren of the continent, and Dempster considered him — " HoUs I'apinianis in juris cognitione inferior.^'' A monument Avas erected to his memory in the (jrey Friars' churchyard of Edinbui-gh, by his son Thomas Henryson, lord Chesters, who is said by Dempster and others to have displayed many of tlie legal and other qualifications of his father. * Reports from Uie Record Comniissioii, i. 257. ' Denmiln I\1S. — Haig and Bruiiton's History of the College of Justice, 133. 36 HENRYSON. HENRYSON, or HENDERSON, Robert, a poet of the fifteenth century, is described as having been chief schoolmaster of Dunfermline, and this is almost liie only particular of his life that is sufficiently ascertained. According to one Avriter, he was a notary public, as well as a schoolmaster : and another is inclined to identify him with Henryson of Fordell, the father of James Henryson who was king's advocate and justice clerk, and who perished in the fatal battle of Flodden. This very dubious account seems to have originated with Sir Robert Douglas ; who avers that Robert Henryson appears to have been a person of distinction in the reign of James the Third, and that he was the father of the king's advocate. Douglas refers to a certain charter, granted by the abbot of Dunfermline in 1478, where Robert Henryson subscribes as a witness;' but in this charter he certainly appears without any particular distinction, as he merely attests it in the character of a notary public. A later writer is still more inac- curate when he pretends that the same witness is described as Robert Henryson of Fordell ;"^ in this and other two charters which occur in the Chartulary of Dunfermline, he is described as a notary public, without any other addition.^ That the notary public, the schoolmaster of Dunfermline, and the proprietor of Fordell, were one and the same individual, is by no means to be admitted upon such slender and defective evidence. Henryson, or, according to its more modern and less conect form, Henderson, was not at that period an uncommon surname. It is not however improbable that the schoolmaster may have exer- cised the profession of a notary. While the canon law prevailed in Scotland, this profession was generally exercised by ecclesiastics, and some vestiges of the ancient practice are still to be traced ; every notary designates himself a clerk of a particulai- diocese ; and by the act of 1584, which under the penalty of deprivation prohibited the clergy from following the profession of the law, they still retained the power of making testaments; so that we continue to ad- mit the rule of the canon law, which sustains a will attested by the parish priest and two or three witnesses.* If therefore Henryson was a notai-y, it is liighly probable that he was also an ecclesiastic, and if he was an ecclesiastic, he could not well leave any legitimate offspring. The poet, in one of his works, desci-ibes himself as " ane man of age;" and from Sir Francis Kinaston we learn that " being very old he died of a diarrhas or fluxe." With respect to the period of his decease, it is at least certain that he died before Dunbar, who in his Lament, printed in the year 1508, commemorates him among other departed poets: " In Dunfermling he hes tane Broun, With gude Mr Robert Henrysoun." The compositions of Henryson evince a poetical fancy, and, for the period when he lived, an elegant simpbcity of taste. He has carefully avoided that cumbrous and vitiated diction which began to prevail among the Scottish as well as the English poets. To his power of poetical conception he unites no inconsiderable skill in versification : his lines, if divested of their uncouth ortho- graphy, might often be mistaken for those of a much more modern poet. His principal work is the collection of Fables, thirteen in number, ivhich are written in a pleasing manner, and are frequently distinguished by their arch simplicity; but in compositions of this nature, brevity is a quality which may be considered ' Douglas's Baronage of Scotland, p. 518. * Sibbald's Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. i. p. 88. ^ Chartulary of Dunfermline, f. 64 a. — Robert Henr3Sonis a witness to other two charters which occur in the same record, f. 63. a. b. His only mark of distinction is that of being de- signated lUagister, while the names of several otlier witnesses appear without this title. He hail perhaps tiiken the degree of master of ai'ts. * Decretal. Gregorii IX. lib. iii. tit. xxvi. cap. x. HENRYSON. 37 as almost indispensable, nor can it be denied that those of Henryson sometimes extend to too great a length. The collection is introduced by a prologue, and another is prefixed to the fable of the lion and the mouse. The tale of Vpoulands Mouse and the Burgesse Mouse may be regarded as one of his happiest efforts in tliis department. The same tale, which is boi-rowed from J'^sop, has been told by many other poets, ancient as well as modern. Babrias has despatched the story of tlie two mice in a few verses, but Henryson has extended it over a surface of several pages. Henryson's Tale of Sir (Jbaun- tecleire and the Foxe is evidently borrowed from Chaucer's Nonnes Preestes Tale. From these apologues some curious fragments of information may be gleaned. That of the Sheepe and the Dog, contains all the particulars of an action before the consistory court, and probably as complete an exposure of such transactions as the author could prudently hazard. The proceedings of the ecclesiastical courts seem about this period to have been felt as a common grievance. Another conspicuous production of Henryson is the Testament of Cresseid,* which is the sequel to Chaucer's Troylus and Creseyde, and is commonly printed among the works of that poet. It evidently rises above the ordinary standard of that period, and on some occasions evinces no mean felicity of conception. The silent interview between Troilus and Cresseid is skilfully delineated ; and the entire passage has been described as beautiful by a very competent judge of old poetry. *• It is unnecessary to remark that for " the tale of Troy divine," neiiher Chaucer nor Henryson had recourse to the classical sources : this, like some other subjects of ancient history, had been invested with all the characteristics of modern romance ; nor could the Scottish poet be expected to deviate from the models which delighted his contemporaries. Sir Troilus is commended for his knightly piety; a temple is converted into a kirk; Mercury is elected speaker of the parliament; and Cresseid, on being afflicted with a leprosy, is consigned to a spittal-house, in order to beg with cup and clapper. The personages are ancient, but the institutions and manners are all modern. Henryson's tale of Orpheus is not free from similar incongruities, and pos- sesses fewer attractions ; it is indeed somewhat languid and feeble, and may have been a lucubration of the author's old age. Sir Orpheus is represented as a king of Thrace, and is first despatched to heaven in search of the lost Eurydice. Quhen endit was the sangis lamentable, He tuke his liarp, that on liis breast can hyng, Syne passit to the huvin, as s;iis the-fable, To seke his wyf, bot that auailit no thing : 5 The Testament of Cresseid, compjUt be Mr Robert Henrysone, Sculemaister in Duu- fermcling. Imprentitat Edinburgh be Henrie Charteris, 1593, ito.— " Ffor the author of this supplement," says Sir Francis Kinasfon, "called the Testament of Cresseid, which may j)assc tor the sixt and last booke of this story, I have very sutlicientlj bin informed by 5>r. Tho. Ercskin, late earle of Kelly, and divers iiged schollei"s of the Scottish nation, that it was made and written by one Mr Robert Henderson, sometime chiefe schoole-master, in Dumfermling, much about the time that Chaucer was first printed and dedicated to King Henry the 8th by ]\Ir Thinne, which was neere the end of his raigne. This Mr Henderson wittily observing lliat (Jhaucer in his 5th booke had related the death of Troilus, but made no meiitioti what became of Cresseid, he lefirncdly takes upon him, in a fine poeticall way, to expres the punish- ment imd end due to a false unconstant whore, which commonly terminatesin txtreme misery." See the Loves of Troilus and Creseid, written by Chaucer ; with a Commentary by Sir Fran- cis Kiniiston, p. xxix. Lonil. 179G, Svo. Kinaston li:id translated into Latin rhyme two books of Chaucer's poem, and had published them under the title oi Avionivi Troili el Crcacida: libri duu priores Anglico-Latini, Oxoniae, 1G35, 4lo. He completed his version of tlie poem, together with a commentary; and his manuscrijjt at length came into the possession of Mr Waldroii, who announced his intention of ctiinmiiLing it to the press, but did not find encouragement to proceed bejond a short specimen. 6 Scott's Notes to Sir Tristrem, p. 362. 38 HEN HYSON. By Wadlyng stretc' he went but tarring, Sjiie come doun throu the spere of Saturn aid, Quhilk fader is of all thir sternis cald. Having searched the sun and planets without success, he dix-ects his course towards the earth, and in his passage is regaled with the music of the spheres. His subsequent adventures are cii'cumstantially, but not very poetically detailed. In enumerating the various characters whom he finds in the domains of Pluto, the poet is guilty of a glaring anachronism : here Orpheus finds Julius Csesar, Nero, and even popes and cardinals ; and it is likewise to be remarked that the lieathen and Christian notions of hell are blended together. But such anacliron- isms are very frequently to be found in the writers of the middle ages. Mr Warton remarks that Chaucer has besn guilty of a very diverting, and what may be termed a double anachronism, by representing Cresseid and two of her female companions as reading the Thebaid of Statius.^ Like the fables of Hen- ryson, his tale of Orpheus is followed by a long moral ; and here he professes to have derived his materials from Boethius and one of his commentators. The Bludy Serk is an allegorical poem of considerable ingenuity. The poet represents the fair daughter of an ancient and worthy king as having been car- ried away by a hideous giant, and cast into a dungeon, where she was doomed to linger until some valiant knight should achieve her deliverance. A ivorthy prince at length appeared as her champion, vanquished the giant, and thrust him into his own loathsome dungeon. Having restored the damsel to her father, he felt that he had received a mortal wound : he requested her to retain his bloody shirt, and to contemplate it Avhenever a new lover should present himself. It is unnecessary to add that the interpretation of this allegory involves the high mys- teries of the Christian faith. The Abbay Walk is of a solemn character, and is not altogether incapable of impressing the imagination. Its object is to inculcate submission to the various dispensations of Providence, and this theme is managed with some degree of skill. But the most beautiful of Henryson's productions is Robene and Makync, the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the Scottish language. I consider it as superior in many respects to the similar attempts of Spenser and Browne ; it is free from the glaring improprieties which sometimes appear in the pastorals of those more recent writers, and it exhibits many genuine strokes of poetical deli- neation. The shepherd's indifference is indeed too suddenly converted into love ; but this is almost the only instance in whicli the operations of nature are not faithfully represented. The story is skilfully conducted, the sentiments and man- ners are truly pastoral, and the diction possesses wonderful terseness and suavity. The Fables of Henryson were reprinted in 1832, for the Bannatyne Club,^ from the edition of Andrew Hart ; of which the only copy known to exist had been recently added to that great repository of Scottish literature, the Advo- cates' Library. ' Watling-street isa name given to one of the great Roman wa)S in Britain. (Horslej's Roman Antiquities of Britain, p. 387. Lond. 1732, fol.) This passage, which to some per- sons may appear so unintelligible, will be best explained by a quotation from Chaucer's House of Fame, b. ii. Lo, quod he, caste vp thyne eye, Se yonder, lo, the Galaxye, The whiciie men clepe the Milky Way, For it is whyte ; and some perfay Callen it Watlynge strete. 8 In Shakspeare's Troilus and Cressida, sajs Mr Douce, " Hector quotes Aristotle, Ulysses speaks of the bull-bearing Milo, and Pandarus of a man born in April. Friday and Sunday, and even minced-pies with dates in them, are introduced." (Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii p. 291.) * From the accurate memoir prefixed to this volume, we have, by the kind permission of the HEPBURN. 39 HEPBURN, James Bonaventura, of the order of the Minims, said to have been an extensive linguist, lexicographer, grammarian, and biblical commenta- tor. When the historian and biographer happens within the range of his sub- jects, to find accounts of occurrences evidently problematical, and as evidently based on truths, while he can discover no data for the separation of truth from falsehood, his critical powers are taxed to no inconsiderable extent. There are three several memoirs of the individual under consideration. The first is to be found in the Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Scotorum, of Dempster, an author whose veracity we have already had occasion to characterize. Another is in the Lives of- Scots Writers, by Dr Ueorge M'Kenzie, a work to which we have made occasional allusions, and which shall hereafter receive due discussion ; and the third is in the European Magazine for 1795, from the pen of Dr Lettice. Dempster's account is short and meagre, except in the enumeration of the great linguist's works ; the second is as ample as any one need desire ; and the third adds nothing to the two preceding, except the facetious remarks of the author. Among other authorities which might have given some account of his writings, or at least hinted at the existence of such a person, all we can discover bearing reference to any of his twenty-nine elaborate works, is the slight notice we shall presently allude to. According to M'Kenzie, " Dempster says that he is men- tioned with great honour by Vincentius Blancus, a noble Venetian in his Book of Letters;" on reference to Dempster, the apparently extensive subject shrinks into " De Literis in manubi-io cultelli sancti Tetri." Now we might have sus- pected that Dempster had intended to perpetrate a practical joke in the choice of a name, had we not, after considerable research, discovered that there is sui-h a discussion on the pen knife of ^St Peter in existence, from the pen of Vincenzo Bianchi, a Venetian;' to this rare work, however, we have not been so fortunate as to obtain access, the only copy of it, of which we have been enabled to trace the existence, being in the libi-ary of the British museum, and we must leave the information it may aflbrd on the life of Hepburn to some more fortunate investigator. M'Kenzie farther states that " he is highly commended by that learned Dr of the canon law, James Gafl'erel, in his book of Unheard of Curiosi- ties ;" on turning to this curious volume, we find the author " highly recommend- ing " Heurnius and his book, " Antiquitatum Pliilosophiai Barbarica;."^ But unfortunately for the fame of our linguist, the author of that book was Otho Heurnius, or Otho Van Heurn, a native of Utrecht, and son and successor to the celebrated pliysician Ian Van Heurn. We now turn with some satisfaction to the only firm ground we have, on which to place the bare existence of Hepburn as an author. In tlie Bibliotheca Latino-Hebraica of Imbonatus,^ amidst the other numberless forgotten books and names, it is mentioned in a few words that " Bonaventura Hepbei-nus Scolus ord. min." wrote a small Hebrew lexicon, printed in duodecimo : its description shows it to have been a small and trifling editor, Dr Irving, abridged the above article. In the Lives of Scottish Worthies, Mr P. F. T) tier has entered at considerable length into the merits of Henryson's poetry, of which he gives copious extracts, lie says — " oif' the works of this remarkable man it is difVicult, when we consider the period in which they were written, to speak in terms of too warm encomium. In strength, and sometimes even in sublimity of painting, in pathos and sweetness, in the variety and beauty of his pictures of natural scenery, in the vein of quiet and playful humour, which runs through many of his pieces, and in that fine natural taste, which rejecting the faults of his age, has dared to think for itself— he is aitogetlier excellent." ' Vincenzo Bianchi Parere intorno alii caratteri che sono sopra il manico del coltello di S. Pietro, 4lo, Ven., IC20. * Jacobi Gatlarelli Curiositates inauditne, de figuris Pei-sarum talismanicis, cum notis, &c., ex editione Gregorii Michaelis, IJamb. ItiTG, 2 vols., 12mo, vide pp. 22, 35, 61, 134. ^ Bibliotheca Latino-Hebraica, sive de scriploribus Latinis, qui ex diversis nationibus, contra Judscos, vel de re Hebraica utcumque scripsere, &c. auct. et vend. D. Carolo Joseph. Inibonato, ftlediolanensi, p. 14. 40 HEPBURN. production, of a very dift'eient description from the vast volumes which Demp- ster and M'Kenzie have profusely attached to his name. We have been unable to procure access to this dictionary, or to ascertain its existence in any public library. Without some more ample data or authority, we should deem ourselves worthy of the reproach of pedantry, were we to abbreviate the accounts presented to us, and tell the reader, ex cathedra, what he is to believe and what he is to discredit. We have then before us the choice, either to pass Mr Hepburn over in silence, or briefly to state the circumstances of his life, as they have been px'e- viously narrated. To follow the former would be disrespectful, not only to the veracious authors we have already mentioned, but also to the authors of the va- rious respectable biographical works who have admitted Hepburn on the list of the ornaments of literature ; and the latter method, if it do not furnish food for investigation, may at least give some amusement. James Bonaventui-a Hepburn, was son to Thomas Hepburn, rector of Old- hamstocks in Lothian. IVI'Kenzie states that he was born on the 14th day of July, 1573, and, that we may not discredit the assertion, presents us with a re- gister kept by the rector of Oldhamstocks, of the respective periods of birth of his nine sons. He received his university education at St AndreAvs, where, after his philosophical studies, he distinguished himself in the acquisition of the oriental languages. Although educated in the principles of the protestant reli- gion, he Avas induced to become a convert to the church of Rome. After this change in his faith, he visited the continent, residing in France and Italy, and thence passing through " Turkey, Persia, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Ethiopia, and most of the eastern countries," gathering languages as he went, until he became so perfect a linguist, " that he could have travelled over the whole earth, and spoke to each nation in their own language." On returning from these la- borious travels, he entered the monastery of the Minims at Avignon, an order so called from its members choosing in humility to denominate themselves " Minimi Fratres Eremita?," as being more humble still than the Minores, or Franciscans. He afterwards resided in the French monastery of the holy Trinity at Rome. Here his eminent qualities attracted a ferment of attention fi-om the learned world, and pope Paul the fifth, invaded his retirement, by appointing him librarian of the oriental books and manuscripts of the Vatican.* We shall now take the liberty of enumerating a few of the many weighty productions of our author's pen, chiefly it is to be presumed written during the six years in which he was librarian of the Vatican. Dictionarium Hebraicuni — Dictionarium Chaldaicum — Peter Malcuth, seu gloria vel decus Israelis, [con- tinet cent, homilias sive conciones] — Epitomen Chronicorum Romanorum — Gesta Regum Israelis — Grammatica Arabica, (said to have been published at Rome in 1591, 4to.) He translated Commentarii Rabbi Kimchi in Psalterium — Rabbi Abraham Aben Ezra Librum de Mysticis numeris — Ejusdem Lihruni alium de septemplici modo interpretandi sacrani scripturam. We shall now turn our consideration to one work of the celebrated linguist, from which a little more information appears to be derivable. I'his is the " Schema Septuaginta Duorum Idiomatum, sive virga aurea — quia Beata Virgo dicitur tot aunis in vivis fuisse; et ille numerus discipulorum est Christi, et Romanas Ecclesiae cardinalium, et tot mysteria in nomine Dei : Roma;, IG 16." M'Kenzie says, " this was communicated to me by the late Sir John Murray of * It is singular that a person in the 17th century, living in 1\a\\,-, professing so man) lan- guages in a country where linguists were rare, a librarian of the Vatican, and one whose " em- inent parts had divulged his fame tlirough tlie whole city" — should have entirely escaped the vast researches of Andre in general literature, Fraboschi's ample Investigation of Italian Literature, the minute Ecclesiastical Bibliograpliies of Dupin and Labbe, and other works of the same description. HEPBURN. 41 Glendoicli, and since it is a singular piece of curiosity, I shall give the reader a particular account of it, with some reflections upon the different languages that are here set down by our author." Whether by the term " communicated" the biographer means to intimate that lie saw the production he criticises, is somewhat doubtful ; but at all events, our opinion of M'Kenzie's veracity is such, that we do not believe he would deliberately state that he had either been in- formed of or shown any particular work by Sir John Murray, and thereafter give a full and minute account of it, without some sort of foundation on which to erect his edifice of narrative. M'Kenzie proceeds to assure us that this is a large print, engraved at Home in the year 1616, and dedicated to Pope Paul V. That upon the top is the blessed virgin, with a circle of stars about her head, wrapt in a glorious vestment, upon which is her name in Hebrew, sending forth rays of eulogiums in Latin, (jreek, and Hebrew, while over her head appear the Father, Son, and Holy (jhost. Angels and the apostles are at her side, and the moon and stars beneath her feet. Then follow seven columns in which these encomiums are translated into the numerous dialects with which tlie mighty linguist was familiar, A great northern philologist, recently de- ceased, has been held up to the wonder of the human race, as having been ac- quainted with thirty-two languages ; but in a period when few were acquainted with more tongues than that of their native place, along with the Greek and Latin, and Avhen the materials for more extensive acquisitions were with diffi- culty accessible, the craving appetite of Hepburn could not be satiated with fewer than seventy-two. We have among these — The Cussian, the Virgilian, the Hetruscan, the Saracen, the Assyrian, the Armenian, the Syro-Armenian, the Gothic, and also the Getic ; the Scythian, and the Moeso-Gothic. Then he leaves such modern labourers as Champolion and Dr Young deeply in the shade, from his knoAvledge of the Coptic, the Hieroglyphic, the Egyptian, the Men^urial Egyptiar, the Isiac-Egyptiac, and the Babylonish. He then turns towards the Chaldaic, the Palestinian, the Turkish, the Rabbinical, the German Kabbini(;al, the Galilean, the Spanish-Rabbinical, the Afro-Rabbinical, and what seems the most appropriate tongue of all, the " Mystical."^ Gradually the biographer rises with the dignity of his subject, and begins to leave the firm earth. He proceeds to tell us how Hepburn wrote in the " Noachic," the " Adaniean," the " Solo- monic," the " IMosaic," the " Hulo-Rabbinic," the " Seraphic," the "Angelical," and the " Supercelestial."'' " Now," continues M'Kenzie, with mu(-h complacency at the successful exhibition he has made of his countryman's powers, but certain- ly with much modesty, considering their extent, " these are all the languages (and tliey are the most of the whole habitable world,) in which our author lias given us a specimen of his knowledge, and which evidently demonstrates that he was not only the greatest linguist of his own age, but of any age that has been since the creation of the world, and may be reckoned amongst those pro- digies of mankind, that seem to go beyond the ordinary limits of nature." Hepburn dabbled in the doctrines of the Cabala, but whether in vindication or attack, the oracular observations of his biographers hardly enable us to as- certain. He died at ^^enice in October, 1620, a circumstance in which Demp- ster has the best reason to be accurate, as it is the very year in which he pens his account. M'Kenzie finds that " others" (without condescending to mention who they are,) " say that he died at Venice, anno 1621, and that his picture is still to be seen there, and aMhe A'atican at Rome." Hr Lettice, in the refined •'■ Perliaps the Cabalistic arraiigcnnt^iit of the alphabet. ° Perhaps M'Kenzie may in naming this alpliabt t have liad some confused idea in his mind, of an arrangement of the celestial bodies, by alternate eontorlioii, into something re- semtjling the letteis of the Hebrew alpiiabet, followed h) some of the woishippers of the secret ficienrts. The arrangement "as called the celestial alphabet. Vide Caffcrel. 42 HERIOT, spirit of a philosophical biographer, has drawn of him the following character : " Although Hepburn's attainments in language were worthy of great admira- tion, I find no reason to believe that his mind was enlarged, or his understand- ing remarkably vigorous. He does not appear to have possessed that quick sense of remote but kindred objects, that active faculty of combining and felicity of expressing related ideas, or that intuitive discernment betwixt heterogene- ous ones ; those creative powers, in short, of thought or expression, by which original works of whatever kind are produced ; those works in the contempla- tion of which alone, taste ever recognizes the fascination of genius." Did we possess the power of creating opinions out of nothing, which the Dr possessed, and to which he seems to refer, we should have tried his canons of criticism, on a minute review of all Hepburn's Avorks, but in the meantime, we can only say, we can scarcely agree with him in thinking that the linguist had not a quick sense of " remote but kindred objects," or that he had any defect in his dis- cernment of heterogeneous ideas ; nor do we conceive that his biographer has allowed him too narrow an allowance of " creative power." HERD, David, an ingenious and useful inquirer into our national antiquities, was born in the parish of St Cyrus, Kincardineshire, about the year 1732. Of his education, and early life in general, nothing has been ascertained. He probably served an apprenticeship under a country writer, and then, like many young men in his circumstances, sought a situation of better promise in the capital. Throughout a long life, he appears to have lived unambitiously, and a bachelor, in Edinburgh, never rising above the character of a Writer''s clerk. He was for many years clerk to Mr David Russel, accountant. A decided taste for antiquities, and literary antiquities in particular, led Mr Herd to spend a great part of his savings on books ; and although the volumes which he pre- ferred were then much cheaper than now, his library eventually brought the sum of £254, 19ir. 10c?. The same taste brought him into association with the principal authors and artists of his own time : Runciman, the painter, Mas one of his intimate friends, and with Ruddiman, Gilbert Stuart, Fergusson, and Robert Burns, he was well acquainted. His information regai'ding Scottish his- tory and biography was extensive. Many of his remarks appeared in the periodical works of his time, and the notes appended to several popular works were enriched by notes of liis collecting. Sir Walter Scott, for instance, was much indebted, in his Border Minstrelsy, to a manuscript of Mr Herd's, which is frequently quoted by the editor, both for ballads and for information respecting them. Mr Herd was himself editor of what Scott calls " the first classical col- lection" of Scottish songs, which first appeared in one volume in 1769, and secondly in two volumes, in 1772. At his demise, which took place, June 25, 1810, he was understood to have left considerable propei'ty, which fell to a gentleman in England, supposed to have been his natural son, and who is said to have died a major in the army. HERIOT, George, founder of the excellent hospital in Edinburgh which bears his name, and jeweller to king James VI., was descended from the Heriots of Trabroun in East-Lothian. This respectable family was connected with some of the most distinguished names in Scottish history. The mother of the illus- trious Buchanan was a daughter of the family, and it was through the patronage of James Heriot of Trabroun, his maternal uncle, that the future poet and states- man was sent to prosecute his studies at the university of Paris. Elizabeth, daughter of James Heriot of Trabroun, was the mother of Thomas Hamilton of Priestfield, first earl of Haddington, president of the court of session, and secretary and prime minister to James VI. But the family may, with more reason, boast of their connexion with the subject of this memoir, who, though HERIOT. 43 filling only the unaristocratic rank of a tradesman, has been the means of drawing forth from obscurity some persons of liigh talent, and many who have moved in the middle ranks with the greatest honour to themselves and benefit to society. (Jeorge Heriot, senior, was a goldsmith in Edinburgh and a person of wealth and consideration. He filled some of thfe most responsible civic situations in the Scottish metropolis : his name often occm-s in the rolls of the Scottish parliament as a commissioner for Edinburgh, in the parliaments and conventions of estates, and he was frequently appointed a commissioner by parliament for the consideration of important questions.' George, his eldest son (the subject of our inquiry) is supposed to have been born in June, 1563. He was destined to follow his father's profession, at that time one of the most lucrative and honourable among the burgesses. The goldsmiths ol" Edinburgh were, in ancient times, classed with the hammermen ; at what time they were separated seems uncertain. They received (in August, 1581) a charter of incorporation from the magistrates, in which many privileges, amounting in fact to a monopoly of their trade, were granted to them, and these were afterwards (1580) confirmed by a charter from James VI. They ^vere, besides, for a long period, the only money lenders : and the iiigh rate of interest, with their frequent command over the resources of the court and the nobility, ren- dered them persons at once of wealth and power. At the age of twenty-three George Heriot entered into a contract of marriage with Christian Marjoribanks, daughter of Simon JMarjoribanks, a substantial bur- gess of Edinburgh. On this occasion, his father presented him with 1000 nierks " to be ane begyning and pak to him," and 500 more to purchase the implements of his trade and to fit out his shop. By his wife he received 1075 merks, which appear to have been lent out at ten per cent, interest, the usual rate of that period. Their union does not appear to have been of long dura- tion, although the date of this lady's death is unknown ; it is even doubtful if she had any children — if she had, none of them survived her. Master Heriot was admitted a member of the incorporation of goldsmiths on the twenty-eighth of May, 1588. In 1597 he was appointed goldsmith to the queen by a charter from James VI., and this (to use the expression of a contem- porary chronicler, I3irrel,) " was intimat at the crosse be opin jnoclamatione and sound of trumpet; and ane Clei, the French man, dischargit, quha was the queen's goldsmithe befor." Heriot was soon after constituted goldsmith and jeweller to the king, with all the emoluments attached to that lucrative office. It would appear that he had already amassed a considerable fortune from his transactions with the court, but no notice of his work occurs in the treasurer's books till September, 1599, when we have the following: " Payit at his majesties special conunand, with advyiss of the lords of secret coiinsal, to George Heriot, younger, goldsmith, for a copburd propynit to 31ou- sieur Vetonu, Frenche ambassadour, contening the peces following, viz. : twa basingis, twa laweris efieiring thairto, twa flaconis, twa chandilleris, sex couppis with coveris, twa couppis without coveris, ane lawer for water, ane saltfalt with ane cover ; all chissellit wark, and dowbill owirgilt, weyand twa stane 14 pund and 5 unces at aucht mark the unce, JClltiO. Item, for graving of 28 alniessis upon the said copburd Jtl4," Scots money. No other notice of him appears between this period and that of the removal of the court to England, whither he soon followed it. Heriot was now possessed of large fortune, and determined upon fonning a mar- riage connexion with a family of good rank. The object of liis choice was Alison ' Acts of the Parliamentsof Scotland (folio edition), iv. 181,379. 44. HERIOT. Primrose, eldest daughter of James Primrose, clerk to the Scottish privy council; a gentleman whose industry and talents had raised him to that honourable office, and who was the grandfather of the first earl of Roseberry. Heriot was also destined to survive this lady, who died, without leaving issue, on the 16th of April, 1612. "The loss of a young, beautiful, and amiable partner, at a period so interesting," Sir Walter Scott conjectures, " was the probable reason of her husband devoting his fortune to a charitable institution." She was interred in the south aisle of the choir of Saint Gregory's church, where her sorrowing husband erected a handsome monument, bearing a Latin inscription, to her memory. From the period of Heriot's settlement at London little is known of his his- tory. Many of the accounts of jewels furnished by him to the queen have been preserved, and several are printed by Mr Constable in his memoir of Heriot, These accounts, from 1605 to 1615, amount to many thousand pounds sterling, but there does not appear to have been the same liberality towards all the mem- bers of the royal family. We find the duke (then marquis) of Buckingham, writing to his " dere dad, gossip and steward," the king, from the Spanisli court in the following manner relative to the prince ; " Hitherto you have beine so sparing [of jewels] that whereas you thought to have sent him sufiiciently for his one [own] wearing, to present to his mistris, who, I am sure shall shortlio now louse that title, and to lend me, that I to the contrarie have bene forsed to lend him." About the same period Charles writes the following letter from Madrid to his royal father : " I confess that ye have sent mor Jewells then (at my departure) I thought to had use of; but, since my cumming, seeing manie jewels worne here, and that my braverie can consist of nothing else, besydes that sume of them which ye have appointed me to give to the Infanta, in Steenie's oppinion and myne are not fitt to be given to her ; therefore 1 have taken this bouldness to entreate your majesty to send more for my own wearing, and for giving to my mistris, in which 1 think your majesty shall not doe amiss to take Carlyle's advice."" It is said that Heriot furnished these jewels, and that they Avere never paid for by James, but that their price was deducted from the purchase-money of the barony of Eroughton when bought by the trustees of the hospital.^ If this is the case, it is the last transaction in which we have found Heriot engaged. He died at London on the 12th of February, 1624, and was buried atSt Martin's in the Fields on the 20th of the same month. Of Heriot's private character little unfoi-tunately is known. He seems tu have possessed those strict business-like habits of accuracy for which he is so dis- tinguished in the novel of the Fortunes of Nigel. With his relations he must have lived on amicable terms, for besides the munificent provision made in his will for the establishment of an hospital, he left considerable suras to many of his relations. Of these the neai-est were two natural daughters. By his will, (dated 20th January, 1623,) he left the whole of his fortune, af- ter deducting the legacies to his relations, servants, &c. to " the provost, bail- lifis, ministers, and ordinary council, for the time being, of the said town of Edinburgh, for and towards the founding and erecting of an hospital within the said town of Edinburgh, in perpetuity ; and for and towards purchasing of cer- tain lands in perpetuity to belong unto the said hospital, to be employed for the 2 Stark's Pii-tuie of Ediiiburgh, p. 232. ' Ellis's Letters illustrative of English histor), (first series) iii. 145, 6. Buckingham adds the following postscript in his usual st3le: " 1 )our doge (dog) saves you have manie jewels iieyther fitt for your one (own,) jour sones, nor your daughters, wearing, but very fitt lo be- stow on those here who must ncctssjirilie have presents; and this way will be least rhargeable to your majesty in my poure opinion." HERON. 45 maintenance, relief, bringing up, and education of so many poor fatherless boys, freemen's sons of the town of Edinburgh, as tlie means which 1 give, and the yearly value of the lands purchased by the provost, bailiffs, ministers, and council of the said town shall amount, or come to." The education of the boys is superintended by able masters, and they are not only taught to read, \\rite, and cast accounts, (to which the statutes of the hospital originally confined the trustees,) but Latin, Greek, r^lathematics, &c. If the boys choose a learned pro- fession, they ai'e sent to the university for four years, with an annual allowance of thirty pounds. The gi'eater number are bound apprentices to tradesmen in the city, and are allowed the annual sum of ten pounds for five years ; at the end of their apprenticeship they receive five pounds to purchase a suit of clothes, upon producing a certificate of good conduct from their master. The foundation of the present magnificent structure (designed by the cele- brated architect Inigo Jones,) was laid on the 1st of .luly, 1628, but from tlie disturbed state of the country continued unfinished till April, 1659. From the rise in the value of their property, the yearly revenue at the disposal of the trustees has very greatly increased, especially during the last half century. A body of statutes by which the institution is governed was di-awn up by Dr Bal- canqual, dean of Rochester, the well known author of a " Declaration concerning the late tumults in Scotland," 1639, published in name of king Charles I. HERON, Robert, a miscellaneous wi-iter, Avas born in the town of New Galloway, on the Cth November, 1764. His father, John Hei-ou, was a weaver, generally respected for his persevering industry and exemplary piety. By his grandmother, Margaret I\Iui-ray, aunt of the late Dr Alexander Murray, he claimed no very distant relationship to that profound philologist. He was early instructed in his letters under the careful eye of a fond parent, and was not sent to the school of the parish until he had reached his ninth year. He soon be- came remarkable for the love he showed for learning, and the unwearied anxiety with which he pursued his inquiries after every point connected with his studies. This being early perceived by his parents, they resolved to give him the benefit of a liberal education as far as their means would allow. He had scarcely re- mained two years at school when, at the age of eleven, he contrived to maintain and educate himself by mingling with his studies the labour of teaching and writing. From his own savings out of a very limited income, and a small as- sistance from his pni'ents, he was enabled to remove to the university of Edin- burgh at the end of tiie year 17 80, His hopes of preferment at that time being centered in the church, he first ap- plied himself to the course of study which that profession requires. While attending the college he was still obliged to devote a considerable portion of his time to private teaching, as well as writing occasional essays for newspapers and magazines, in order to provide for his subsistence. To quote his own words, " he taught and assisted young persons at all periods in the «;ourse of education, from the alphabet to the highest branches of science and litex'ature." Being well grounded in a knowledge of the French language, he found constant em- ployment from booksellers in translating foreign works. His first literary pro- duction, published with his name, aj)peared in 1789, " A Critique on the Genius and Writings o^ Thomson," prefixed to a small edition of the Seasons. It «as highly spoken of, and reflected much credit on the judgment and taste of the author. His next work was a version of Fourcroy's Chemisti-y, from the French, follow etl by Savary's Travels in Greece, Dumourier's Letters, Gesner's Idylls in part, an abstract of Zinmierman on Solitude, and several abridgments of Oriental Tales. In 1790-1, he says he " read lectures on the law of nature, the law of na- tions, the Jewish, Grecian, Roman, feudal, and canon law — and then on the 46 HERON. several forms of municipal jurisprudence established in modern Europe;" — these lectures, he says, were to assist gentlemen who did not study professionally, in the understanding of history. Though he devoted much time and study to pre- pare these lectures, he was afterwards unfortunate in not being able to obtain a sufficient audience to repay him for their composition — they were consequently soon discontinued. A syllabus of the entire course was afterwards published. Still the sums of money he continued to receive from his publishers were amply suffi(uent to maintain him in a respectable manner, if managed with prudence and discretion ; but his unfortunate peculiarity of temper, and extravagant desire of supporting a style of living which nothing but a liberal and certain income would ad- mit of, frequently reduced him to distress, and finally to the jail. He might have long remained in confinement, but that some worthy friends interceded ; and, on their suggestion, he engaged himself to write a History of Scotland, for ^vhich Messrs Morrisons of Perth were to pay him at the rate of three guineas a sheet, his creditors, at the same time, agreeing to release him for fifteen shillings in the pound, to be secured on two thirds of the copyright; before this arrangement was fully concluded, melancholy to relate, nearly the whole of the first volume of the History of Scotland was written in jail. It appeared in 1793, and one volume of the work was published every year successively, until the whole six were completed. During that period he went on a tour through the western parts of Scotland, and from notes-taken on the road, he compiled a work in two volumes octavo, called " A Journey through the Western Parts of Scotland." He also gave to the world, " A Topographical Account of Scot- land," " A New and Complete System of Universal Geography," " A Memoir of Robert Burns," besides many contributions to magazines and other periodical works. He was also engaged by Sir John Sinclair, to superintend the publica- tion of his Statistical Account of Scotland. By this time he had acquired great facility in the use of his pen, and, being extremely vain of the versatility of his genius, he flattered himself there was no range in literature, however high, that was not within the scope of his powers. Impressed with these ideas, he made an attempt at dramatic composition, and having some influence with the manager of the theatre, he contrived to get introduced on the stage an after-piece, written, as he says, in great haste, called, " St Kilda in Edinburgh ; or, News from Camperdown ;" — but as if to verify the adage, " Things done in a haste are never dtme well," so it turned out with St Kilda. Being devoid of e\'ery thing like interest, and violating in many parts the connnon rules of decency, it was justly condemned before it reached the second fict. Our author's vanity must have on this occasion received a deep wound, being present in the house at the time ; — overwhelmed with disappointment, he flew to his lodgings and confined himself to bed for several days. Still blinded by vanity in the midst of his mental sufferings, he imputed the failure of his play to the machinations of his enemies. He therefore determined on " shaming the rogues" by printing. It is needless to say, it neither sold nor was talked of. The most amusing part of this aftair was the mode in which he persisted in forc- ing his production on the public. We shall present our readers with an ex- tract from his highly inflated preface. It commences with a quotation from Sterne's Tristram Shandy. " The learned bishop Hall tells us in one of his de- cades, at the end of his Divine Meditations, that it is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself, and verily I think so; and yet, on the other hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of fashion, which thing is not likely to be found out, I think it is fully as abominable that a man should lose the hon- our of it. This is exactly my situation." In the following he quotes Swift: — " When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign — HERON. 47 that the dunces are all in confederacy against him." Yet, though blinded by folly and weighed down by distress, still liis filial aftections were alive, and, al- though he could not aflbrd his parents any permanent support, he seemed an- xious to promote the education of their family ; which the following extracts from his letters will sufficiently prove : " I hope by living more pious and carefully, by managing my income frugally, and appropriating a part of it to the service of you and my. sisters, and by living with you in future at least a third part of the year, to reconcile your atlections more entirely tome, and give you more comfort than I have yet done. Oh forget and forgive my follies; look on me as a son.Avho will anxiously strive to com- fort and please you, and, after all your misfortunes, to render the evening of your days as happy as possible." And again, — '* We will endeavour," says he, " to settle our dear Grace comfortably in life, and to educate our dear little Betty and Mary aright." He brought his eldest brother, John, to Edinburgh, to study at the university, with the view of his entering the church ; he was a youth of promising abilities, but of weak constitution, and sank into an early grave in 1790. As the other cliildren increased in years, faithful to his pro- mise, he brought his favourite sister, Mary, to live with him in Edinburgh to complete her education. His irregularities, and consequent emban-assnients, made her situation in town any thing but an enviable one. Her mortifications, however, in this life were not of long duration, as she died at his lodgings in 1798. To a mind of his quick sensibility this was a dreadful shock. Almost frantic with grief at the loss he experienced, he gave himself up to the wildest despair : every unkind action or word he made use of towards her rushed to his distracted memoiy, until life itself was almost insupportable. Neither the sympathy of friends, nor the consolations of religion, could mitigate his woes. At the same time his means of subsistence became every day more precarious ; his literary labours were ceasing to pay, so that, added to his other misfortunes, starvation and a jail were liourly staring him in the face. Shunning as much as possible all his former companions, he might now be seen wandering about the suburbs of the city, with wasted cheek and sunken eye, a nnserable victim of want and care. By degrees, however, he was recalled to a better state of mind, when, finding his views not lii^ely to succeed any longer in Scotland, he was induced to go to London in 1799. For the first few years of liis residence there, it appears he found good employment, and his applicvrote a journey through the Avestern parts of Scotland, which has passed through two editions ; a History of Scotland in six volumes Svo ; a typographical account of Scotland, which has been several times reprinted ; a number of communications in the Edinburgh Blagazine ; many prefaces and critiques. A Memoir of the Life of Burns, which suggested and promoted the subscription for his family, has been reprinted, and formed the basis of Dr Cur- rie's life of him, as I learned by a letter from the Doctor to one of his friends; a variety of jeux d^esprit, in verse and prose, and many abridgments of large works. In the beginning of 1799, I was encouraged to come to London. Here I have written a great multiplicity of articles in almost every branch of literature, my education in Edinbui'gh having comprehended them all. The London Review, the Agricultural Magazine, the Universal Magazine, the Anti-Jacobin Review, the Public Characters, the Annual Necrology, with several other periodical works, «;ontain many of my communications. In such of these publications as have been received, I can show that my anonymous pieces have been distinguished Avith very high praise. I have written also a short system of Chemistry, and I published a few weeks since a small work called tiie Comforts of Life, of which the first edition was sold in one Aveek, and the second edition is now in rapid HILL. 49 sale. In the newspapers — The Oracle, The Porcupine, ulien it existed, The General Evening Post, The Morning Post, The British Press, The Courier, &c. I have published my reports of the debates in parliament, and I believe a greater variety of fugitive pieces than I know to have been written by any one person. I have written also a great variety of compositions in Latin and French, in favour of which I have been honoured with the testimonials of liberal approbation. *' I have invariably written to serve the cause of religion and morality, pious Christian education, and good order in the most direct manner. I have con- sidered what I have \\Titten as mere trifles, and I have incessantly studied to qualify myself for something better. I can prove that 1 have for many years read and written one day with another from twelve to sixteen hours a-day. As a human being I have not been free from follies and en'ors ; but the tenor of my life has been temperate, laborious, humble, quiet, and, to the utmost of my power, beneficent. 1 can prove the genei-al tenor of my writings to be (andid, and ever adapted to exhibit the most favourable views of the abilities, disposi- tions, and exertions of others. For the last ten months I have been brought to the very extremity of bodily and pecuniary distress. " I shudder at the thoughts of perishing in a jail. " 92, Chancery Lane, Feb. 2d. 1807. (In confinement.)" His life Mas now fast drawing to a close. With a mind bowed down by want and despair, and a body emaciated from increasing disease, he was incapable of farther exeilion ; and being removed to an hospital as his last and only hope, in one week after his entrance there, he breathed his last, on the 13th of April, 1807, without a friend to console or assist him. Thus perished Robert Heron in the prime of life, with talents and acquirements of a very rare descrip- tion, which, if governed by prudence, were eminently calculated to gain for him an honourable independence in the world. It is difficult to estimate the true depth of his genius by his miscellaneous publications in prose ; his style was of a mixed description, — sometimes pompous and declamatory, at other times chaste and elegant But it must be considered he was seldom allowed the choice of a subject, being all his life under the dictates of a publisher.' He composed with great rapidity, and seldom made any corrections but in his j)roof sheets. His appearance was at most times impressive and dignified; his figure, above the middle size, stately and erect, and his countenance had a benevolent expression, though pale and care-worn from study and confinement. With all his faults he had still many redeeming virtues; and above all a strong sense of the respect wliirii is due to religion and morality. In a diary of his life, kept at various times, wliich contains a free confession of his senti- ments, he has recorded, that, in whatever manner he spent the day, he never «;losed his eyes at night without humbling liimself in prayer before the tlu-oiie of the Most High. The brief memoir of this accomplished scholar affords another striking in- stance of the impossibility of shielding genius from poverty and disgrace when blinded by passion, or perverted by eccentricity. HILL, (Ub) George, an eminent leader of the church of Scotland, and prin- cipal of St I\lary's college, St Andrews, was born in that city, in the month «)f June, 1750. His father, the Uev. John Hill, was one of the ministers of St Andrews ; and he went through his whole course of education in the univei-sily there. The elements of education he received very early, after which he A\as ' A specimen of the writings of this exti-aordinary genius is given in the present wor!., under tlie head " Robert Hums." 50 HILL. sent to tlie grammar school, then taught by Mr Dick, who afterwards obtained a chair in the university. While he continued at school, he made a rapid pro- gress, and was generally at the head of his class. At the age of nine years, he exhibited so much precocity of talent as to compose a sermon, superior in his father's opinion to many sermons he had heard from the pulpit ; and the late countess of Buchan was so much pleased with it, that she requested it might be dedicated to her, and carried it to London with her, with the intention of having it printed. The intention, however, without any loss to the world we presume, was never brought into act. He entered upon his academical course in the eleventh year of his age, and in all the different classes nuiintained a decided superiority. His tasks he performed always with ease ; and he was highly respected by all the professors under whom he studied. At fourteen years of age, he had completed his philosophical course, and was made a master of arts ; and, having determined to devote himself to the church, entered upon the study of theology in his fifteenth year. During the second session of his theology, the earl of Kinnoul, having been appointed chancellor of the university of St Andrews, gave for the encouragement of learners, a number of prizes, to be bestowed on the most deserving in the various classes. These prizes his lordship distributed to the successful candidates with his own hand ; and young Hill, having gained one of them, though he had to contend with many that were greatly his seniors, attracted the particular notice of his lordship, who from that moment took a warm interest in his success in life, giving him directions for his conduct, and aid for the prosecution of his schemes, with the warmth of a parent rather than the cold and stately formality of a patron. During his college vacations, he was in the habit of visiting frequently at Temple, his uncle, Dr M'Cormick, the biographer of Carstairs, by whom he was introduced to the metropolitan of the Scottish church, principal Robertson, and by the principal he was recommended as tutor to the eldest son of Pryce Campbell, M. P., and at that time one of the lords of the treasury. In consequence of this appointment, he repaired to Lon- don in November, 1767, not having completed his seventeenth year. Such a series of fortunate incidents occurs in the lives of few individuals. " Educated," says his biographer, " in the genuine principles of whiggism, he considered the great design of government to be the promotion of the liberty and the happiness of the people ;'' but in the close of the very same paragraph this writer intro- duces the subject of his panegyric saying to his mother, " as I have seen nothing but mobbing and the bad effects of faction since I came to England, I am very moderate, and think it the duty of an honest man to support almost any min- istry." Mr Hill was, indeed, a whig of a somewhat odd kind ; the man whom he most admired was lord North, and the objects of his aversion and his vituperation were the American colonists, Messrs Beckford, Wilkes, and the other members of the opposition in the house of commons. Mr Hill, while at St Andrews, had been an ambitious member of those associa- tions generally formed at colleges for the purpose of exercising the talent of speech, and he was not long in London till he found his way into the Robin Hood Debating Society, where he even then consulted his interest by defending the measures of administration. His account of this society gives no very high idea of its members. " Last night I went to the Robin Hood Society and was very highly entertained there. We had speakers of all kinds, shoemakers, Aveavers, and quakers, whose constant topic was the dearness of provisions. There were one or two who spoke very comically, and with a great deal of humour. But what surprised me much, I heard one of the easiest and most masterly speakers that ever I heard in my life. His dress was rather shabby, but he is a constant attendant and by long practice has greatly improved. I HILL. 51 Sj)oke once or twice, and had the honour of being listened to with great atten- tion, which is a coniplinient in a society of this kind, whicii is made up of people of all descriptions. It sits on Mondays from eight to ten. A ticket costs six- pence, for which you get a well lighted room and as much porter and lemonade as you choose to drink. There is a subject fixed, and if that fail, the president gives another. I sliall be a constant attendant, not only as it is one of the highest entertainments^ but as the best substitute for the select clubs which I have left." — " I carried,'' he says in another letter to his mother, " my pupil to the Robin Hood Society, along with Mr Brodie, Mr Campbell's parochial clergyman at Calder, who was on a visit to London. I made a splendid oration, whicli had the honour of a loud clap, and was very much approved by Mr Brodie. It is a fine exercise for oratorical talents." On another occasion Mr Hill thus expresses himself: " I am obliged to you for your observations on the knowledge of mankind. The true secret certainly for passing through life with comfort, and especially to a person in my situation, is to study the tempers of those about him and to accommodate himself to them. I don't know whether I am possessed of this secret, or whether there is something remarkable in the persons with whom I converse, but I have found evei-y body with whom I have had any connexion since I came to England or Wales, exceedingly agreeable. From all I have met with politeness and attention, and, from many, particular marks of favour and kindness. I may be defective in penetration and sagacity, and in judging of character, but I am sure I am pliable enough, more than I think sometimes quite right. I can laugh or be grave, tails nonsense, or politics, or philosophy, just as it suits my company, and can submit to any mortification to please those with whom I converse. I cannot flatter ; but I can listen with attention, and seem pleased with every thing that any body says. By arts like these, which have, perhaps, a little meanness in them, but are so convenient that one does not ciioose to lay them aside, I have had the good luck to be a favourite in most places." This at eighteen, except perhaps in Scotland, will be looked upon as an amazing instance of precocious worldly sense. In the scramble for the good things of this world, had such a man failed, who could ever hope to succeed? In a subsequent letter to his mother, referring to the circumstance of a younger brother entering upon his education, he observes, " What is the learning ol' any one language, but throwing away so nuich time in getting by heart a parcel of words in one language, and anotlier parcel corresponding to the first in another? It is an odd thing that some mure rational and useful employment cannot be found out for boys of his age, and that we should still throw away eight or ten years in learning dead languages, after we have spunged out of them all tliat is to be found. God certaiidy never intended that so much of our time should be spent in learning (ireek and Latin. The period allotted to us for action is so sliort that we cannot too soon begin to fit ourselves for appearing upon the stage. J\Ir Campbell cannot read (ireek, and he is a bad Latin scholar ; yet lie is a philosopher, a divine, and a statesman, because he has improved his naliiral parts by reading a great deal of I'lnglish. I am, and jierhaps all my life sliail <;ontinue a close student ; but I hate learning. 1 have no more than is abst)liilely necessary, and as soon as I can I sliall throw tliat little away." W hatever was his Latinity, Mr Campbell's interest was good and promised still to be better, in (■onsequence of which i^Ir Hill's friends were instant with him to go into tlie church of isngland, where, through the attention of Mr Campbell, he might be much better provided ior than he «;oiild be in tlie and Obituary for 1821', a source from which we derive all the dates in this meinui i , judging it one likely to be depended on. 80 HOPE. of military store. To enable his troops in some measure to obtain supplies, he separated his whole column into six divisions, each a day's march distant from the others, and thus passing through an uncultivated country destitute of roads, whose few inhabitants could give no assistance and could not be trusted, and harassed by the neighbourhood of a powerful enemy, he had to drag his artil- lery and a large park of ammunition to join the commander-in-chief, whose safety depended on his speedy approach. At Almiiraz he endeavoured to dis- cover some path which might guide him through the hills to Ciudad Rodrigo, but not finding one easily accessible, the jaded state of his few remaining horses compelled him to relinquish the attempt to cross these regions. On reaching Talavera, to the other evils with which he had to contend was added the folly or perfidy of the Spanish functionaries : the secretary at Avar recom- mended to him a method of passing through Madrid, which on consideration he found would have been the most likely of all methods to throw him into the hands of the French army. Resolving to make a last effort to obtain assistance from the nation for which the British troops were wasting their blood, he proceeded in person to Madrid ; but the uncontrolled confusion of the Spanish government threw additional clouds on his prospects, and he found tliat the safety of his men must depend on their own efforts. Avoiding the path so heedlessly proposed, he passed Naval Carnero, and reached Escurial, where he halted to bring up his rear, and to obtain bullocks for dragging his artillery and ammunition. Having crossed the mountains on the sixth day after leaving Madrid, his situa- tion became more melancholy, and he fell into deeper difficulties. He received the intelligence of additional disasters among the Spaniards ; and his scouts traced the vicinity of parties of the enemy. " The general's situation," says colonel Napier in his History of the Peninsular War, " was now truly embar- rassing. If he fell back to the Guadarama, the army at Salamanca would be without ammunition or artillery. If he advanced, it must be by a flank march of three days, with a heavy convoy, over a flat country, and within a few hour's march of a very superior cavalry. If he delayed where he was, even for a few liours, the French on the side of Segovia might get between him and the pass of Guadarama, and then, attacked in front, flank, and rear, he would be re- duced to the shameful necessity of abandoning his convoy and guns, to save his men in the mountains of Avila. A man of less intrepidity and calmness would have been ruined ; but Hope, as enterprising as he was prudent, without any hesitation ordered the cavalry to throw out parties cautiously towards the French, and to maintain a confident front if the latter approached ; then moving the in- fantry and guns from Villacastin, and the convoy from Espinosa, by cross roads to Avila, he continued his march day and night until they reached Peneranda : the cavalry covering this movement closed gradually to the left, and finally oc- cupied Fontiveros on the 2nd of December." '^ Not without additional dangers from the vicinity of the enemy, to the number of ten thousand infantry, and two thousand cavalry, with forty guns, he at length reached Salamanca, and joined the commander-in-chief. He partook in the measui-es which the anny thus re- cruited endeavoured to pursue, as a last effort of active hostility, passing with his division the Douro at Tordesillas, and directing his march upon Villepando. In the memorable retreat which followed these proceedings, he had a laborious and perilous duty to perform- He commanded tlie left wing at the battle of Corunna; — of his share in an event so frequently and minutely recorded it is scarcely necessary to give a detailed account. After the death of the commander- in-chief, and the wound which compelled Sir David Baird to retire from the field, general Hope was left with the honour and responsibility of the supreme 2 Vol. i. p. 437. I HOPE. 81 command, and in the language of the despatches, to his " abilities and exer- tions, in the direction of the ardent zeal and unconquerable valour of his majes- ty's troops, is to be attributed, under providence, the success of the day, which terminated in the complete and entire repulse and defeat of the enemy." It was the immediate decision of Sir John Hope, not to follow up a victory over so powerful an enemy, but taking advantage of the confusion of the fVench, to proceed with the original design of embarking the troops, a measure per- formed with true military alacrity and good order, not without the strenuous exertions of the general, who, after the fatigues of the day, personally searched till a late hour the purlieus of the town, to prevent stragglers from falling into the hands of the enemy. General Hope wrote to Sir David Baird a succinct and clear account of the battle, in which his own name seldom occurs. As exhibiting the subdued opinion he expressed of the advantage gained, and as what is very probably a specimen of his style of composition, we quote the following passage from this excellent document: "Circumstances forbid us to indulge the hope, that the victory with which it has pleased Providence to crown the eftbrts of the army, can be attended with any very brilliant consequences to Great Britain. It is clouded by the loss of one of her best soldiers. It has been achieved at the termination of a long and harassing service. The superior numbers and advantageous position of the enemy, not less than the actual situation of this army, did not admit of any advantage being reaped from success. It must be, however, to you, to the army, and to our country, the sweetest reflection that the lustre of the British arms has been maintained, amidst many disadvantageous circumstances. The army which had entei'ed Spain amidst the fairest prospects, had no sooner completed its junction, than, owing to the multiplied disasters that dispersed the native armies around us, it was left to its own resources. The advance of the British corps from Douro afibrded the best hope that the south of Spain might be relieved, but this gener- ous effort to save the unfortunate people, also afforded the enemy the oppor- tunity of directing every effort of his numerous troops, and concentrating all his principal resources, for the destruction of the only regular force in the north of Spain." The thanks of his country crowded thickly on general Hope, after the arrival of'the despatdies in England ; a vote of thanks to him and to the officers under his command was unanimously j)assed in the House of Lords, on the motion of the earl of Liverpool ; in the House of Commons, on that of lord Castlereagh, As a reward for Ids services, his brotlier (the earl of Hopetoun) was created a baron of the united kingdom, by the title of baron Hopetoun of Hopetoun in the county of Linlithgow, and himself received the order of the bath, in which he was installed two years afterwards, along witli twenty-two other kniglits. Soon after his return to Britain, Sir John was appointed to superintend the milittiry department of the unsatisfactory expedition to the Scheldt. It was the intention of the planners of the expedition, that by landing on the nortli side of South Beveland, and taking possession of the island. Sir John might incom- mode the French fleet while it remained near Flushing, and render its retreat more difficult, while it might be subject to tlie attacks of the British ships. Sir John's division landed near Ter-Goes, took possession of the important post of Baltz, and removed all impediments to tlie progress of the British vessels in tlie West Scheldt, For nine days Sir John occupied his post, waiting impatiently for the concerted arrival of the gun-boats under the command of Sir Home Pophara, harassed by frequent attacks from the enemy, in one of which tliey brought down about twenty-eight gun-vessels, and kept up a cannonade for several hours, but were, after much exertion on tlie part of the general, com- 82 HOPE. pelled to retreat. The termination and efiect of the expedition are well known, and need not be here repeated. At the termination of the expedition Sir John Hope was appointed commander-in-chief of the forces in Ireland, but he soon left this unpleasing sphere of duty, to return in 1813, to the scene of his former exertions in the Peninsula, At the battle of Nivelle he commanded the left wing, and driving in the enemy's out-posts in front of their entrenchments on the Lower Nivelle, carried the redoubt above Orogue, and established himself on the heights immediately opposite Sibour, in readiness to take advantage of any movement made by the enemy's right. On the 10th of December, nearly the whole army of the enemy left their entrenchments, and having drawn in the piquets, advanced upon Sir John Hope's posts on the high road from Bayonne to St Jean de Luz, At the first onset, Sir John took 500 prisoners, and repulsed the enemy, while he received in the course of the action a severe contusion on the head. The same movement was repeated by the enemy, and they were in a similar manner repulsed. The conduct of Sir John on this occasion has received the approbation of military men, as being cool, judicious, and soldierly ; and he received the praises of the duke of Wellington in his despatches. In this campaign, which began on the frontiers of Portugal, the enemy's line of defence on the Douro had been turned, and after defeat at Vittoria, Soult had been repulsed in his efforts to relieve St Sebastian and Pamplona, and the army of France had retreated behind the Pyrenees. After the fall of the latter place, the army entered France, after many harassing operations, in which the progress of the allies was stoutly impeded by the indomitable Soult. In the middle of February, 1814, the passage of the Adour was accomplished. While the main body of the army under the duke of Wellington, prosecuted the cam- paign in other quarters, Sir John Hope was left with a division to invest the citadel and town of Bayonne on both banks of the river. Soon after these operations commenced, Sir John received information from two deserters, that the garrison was under arms, and prepared for a sortie before day-light next morning. By means of a feint attack at the moment they Avere so expected, and by the silent and stealthy movements of some of their men through the rough ground, many of the centinels were killed, and several lines of piquets broken. The nature of the spot, with a hollow way, steep banks, and inter- cepting walls, depi-ived those so attacked of the power of retreating, and the whole vicinity was a series of scattei'ed battles, fought hand to hand, with deadly bitterness. The chief defence of the besiegers lay in the fortified convent of St Bernard, and in some buildings in the village of St Etienne ; to the latter post Sir John Hope proceeded with his staff, at the commencement of the attack. Through one of the inequalities of the ground already mentioned, which formed a sort of hollow way. Sir John expected to find the nearest path to the village. When almost too late, he discovered that the banks had concealed from him the situation of the enemy, whose line he was just approaching, and gave orders to retreat; before, however, being extricated from the hollow way, the enemy approached within twelve yards' distance, and began firing : Sir John Hope's horse received three balls, and falling, entangled its rider. While the staff attempted to extricate him, the close firing of the enemy continued, and several British officers were wounded, among whom was Sir John himself, and the French soldiers pouring in, made them all prisoners. The French with difli- culty extricated him from the fallen horse, and while they were conveying him to the citadel, he was severely wounded in the foot by a ball supposed to liave come from the British piquets. From the effects of this encounter he suffered for a considerable period. On the 3rd of May, Sir John was created a British peer by the title of baron HOPE. 83 Niddry of Niddry, county of Linlithgo\v. He declined being a partaker in the pecuniary grant, which, on the 9th of June ensuing, was moved by the chan- cellor of tlie exchequer, as a reward for the services of him and other distin- guished generals. On the death of his brother by his father's prior marriage, he succeeded to the family title of earl of Hopetoun, and in August, 1819, he attained to the rank of general. He died at Paris, on the 27th August, 1823, in the 58th year of his age. From the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1823, we extract a character of this excellent and able man, which, if it have a small degree too much of the beau ideal in its composition, seems to be better fitted to the person to whom it is applied, than it might be to many equally celebrated. " As the friend and companion of Moore," says this chronicle, " and as acting under Wellington in the Pyrenean campaign, he had rendered himself conspicuous. But it was when, by succession to the earldom, he became the head of one of the most ancient houses in Scotland, and the possessor of one of its most extensive properties, that his character shone in its fullest lustre. He exhibited then a model, as perfect seemingly as human nature could admit, of the manner in which this enrlnent and useful station ought to be filled. An open and magnificent hospitality, suited to his place and rank, without extravagance or idle parade, a full and public tribute to the obligations of religion and private morality, without ostentation or austerity ; a warm interest in the improvement and welfare of those extensive districts with which his possessions brought him into contact — a kind and generous concern in the welfare of the humblest of his dependents, — these qualities made him beloved and respected in an extraordinary degree, and will cause him to be long remembered."' HOPE, (Sir) Thomas, an eminent lawyer and statesman of the fifteenth cen- tury, and the founder of a family distinguished for its public services, was the son of Henry Hope, a considerable Scottish merchant, whose grandfather, John de Hope, was one of the gentlemen attending Magdalene de Valois, first consort of James V., at her coming into this country in 1537. Henry Hope, a younger brother of the subject of this memoir, following the profession of his father, was the progenitor of the great and opulent branch of tlie Hopes of Amsterdam ; a house, for extent of conunerce and solidity of credit, long considered superior, without exception, to any private mercantile company in the world. Thomas Hope, after having distinguished himself at school in no small deo^ree entered upon the study of the law, and made so rapid a progress in juridical knowledge, that he was at a very early age called to the bar. However, like the generality of young lawyers, he enjoyed at first a very limited practice ; in IGOG, he burst at once upon the world on the following occasion. Six ministers of the church of Scotland having thought proper to deny that the king and his council possessed any authority in ecclesiastical affairs were on that account imprisoned for some months in Blackness castle, indicted for hiefore his demise. The painter has produced a faithful likeness, but no engraving of it has yet been executed. HOliSLEY, John, an eminent antiquary, historian, and divine, was born at Pinkie House in Mid-Lothian, in the year 1G85. His parents were English non-cx)nformists, who are supposed to have fled into Scotland on account of the persecution in the reign of Charles II. How it happened that they resided at rinkie House, then the property of the earl of Dunfermline, as successor to the estates of the abbey of Dunfermline, is not known. It is clearly ascertained that his progenitors belonged to Northumberland, and were of no mean standing. His parents returned to Northumberland immediately after the Revolution, and it is understood that the subject of this notice received the initiatory part of his edu- cation at the Newcastle grammar school. He was thereafter sent to pursue his academical studies at Edinburgh ; and it would appear, that at a very early age, as we find by the laureation book of the college, he was admitted master of ar(s in 1701, being then just sixteen years of age. After finishing his theological course, he returned to England, and preached for several years merely as a licentiate ; but in 1721, he was ordained minister of a congregation of I'rotestant dissenters at Morpeth. His mind, however, was directed to otlier pursuits be- sides his profession, and his great attainments in geology, mathematics, and most of the other abstruse sciences, of which he gave unquestionable proofs, would pi-oI>ably have gained him a wider and more permanent fame in the present day, than at a time when their principles were in general little understood, and less attended to. In 1722, he invented a simple and ingenious mode of 90 HORSLEY. determining- the aveinge quantity of rain wliicli fell, by means of a funnel, the wider cylinder of which was thirty inches in diameter, and terminated in a pipe three inches in diameter, and ten in length ; the latter being graduated in inches and tenths. Ten measures of the pipe being equal to one inch of the cylinder, one measure to one-tenth of an inch, one inch of the measure to one-hundred, and one-tenth to one-thousand part, — the depth of any parti- cular quantity of rain which fell might be set down in decimals with ease and exactness ; and the whole, at the end of each month or year, summed up without any trouble. Shortly after, and probably in consequence of this inven- tion, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society, and commenced giving public lectures on hydrostatics, mechanics, and various branches of natural philosophy, at Morpeth, Alnwick, and Newcastle. His valuable apparatus for illustrating and explaining his lectures, after passing through various hands after his death, were, in 1S21, deposited in the library belonging to the dissenters in Red Cross Street, London, being bequeathed to the public by Dr Daniel Williams. By manu- scripts afterwards found among Mr Horsley's papers, it appears that about the year 1728, he conceived the idea of writing a history of Northumberland, and from the extensive design of the work which he had sketched out, embracing its antiquities, traditions, geological structure, &c., and his ability for the task, it is much to be regretted that he did not live to complete it. A map of the same county, commenced by him, was afterwards completed by Mr Mark, the sur- veyor employed by him, and published at Edinburgh in 1753. Mr Horsley also published a small book on experimental philosophy, in connexion with the course of lectures above noticed. His great work, however, by which his name will most probably be transmitted to posterity, and to which he dedicated the greater part of his short but busy career, is his " Britannia Romana," or the Roman affairs of Britain, in three books. This work is in folio, and consists of five hundred and twenty pages, with plates exhibiting maps of the Roman posi- tions, copies of ancient coins, sculptures, inscriptions, &c. It is dedicated to Sir Richard Ellys, Bart., contains a lengthy preface, a chronological table of occur- rences during the Roman domination, a copious index of the Roman names of people and places in Britain, Sec. It was printed at London for John Os- borne and Thomas Longman, &c., in 1732 ; but Mr Horsley lived not to see the fate of a work which had unceasingly engi'ossed his time, thoughts, and means for several years. His death took place at Morpeth, on the 1 5th Janu- ary, 1732, exactly thirteen days after the date of his dedication to Sir Richard Ellys, and while yet in his 4Gth year. The enthusiastic ardour with which he devoted himself to this work, may be gleaned from the following passage in the preface: — "It is now four years since I was prevailed with to complete this work, for which time I have pursued it with the greatest care and application. Several thousand miles were travelled to visit ancient monuments, and re-ex- amine them where there was any doubt or difficulty." He also went to London to superintend the progress of his work through the press, and engaged in an extensive correspondence on the subject with many of the most learned writers atul antiquaries of the day. The " Britannia" is now a very rare work, and it would appear that the plates engraved for it are entirely lost. Mr Horsley was married early in life to a daugiiter of a professor Hamilton, who, according to Wood, in his Ancient and Modern State of Cramond, was at one time minister of that parish. By her he had two daughters, one of whom was married to a Mr Randall, clerk in the Old South Sea House, London ; the other to Samuel Halliday, esq., an eminent surgeon at Newcastle. From a passage in his manu- scrijjt history of Northumberland, it Avould also appear that he had a son, but we find no other mention made of him, either in his own writings or else\\liere. HUME. 91 The greater part of Mr Morsley's various unfinished works, correspondence, and other manuscripts, fell after his death into the hands of the late John Cay, Esq. of Edinburgh, great-grandson of Mr Robert Cay, an eminent printer and publisher at Newcastle, to uhose judgment in the compiling, correcting, and getting up of the Britannia Roniana, Mr Horsley appears to liave been much indebted. From these papers, as printed in a small biographical work by the Rev. John Hodgson, vicar of Whelpington in Northumberland, published at Newcastle in 1831, the most of the facts contained in this brief memoir were taken. HUME, Alexander, a vernacular poet of the reign of James VI., was the second son of Patrick Hume, fifth baron of Polwarth. Until revived by tlie tasteful researches of Dr Leyden, the works of this, one of the most elegant of our early poets, lay neglected, and his name was unknown except to the antiquary. He had the merit of superseding those " godlie and spiritual sangis and ballatis," which, however sacred they may have once been held, are pro- nounced by the present age to be ludicrous and blasphemous, for strains where piety and taste combine, and in which the feelings of those who wish to peruse Avritings' on sacred subjects, are not outraged. The neglect which has long obscured the works of this poet, has impeded inquiries as to his life and charac- ter. He is supposed to have been born in the year 1560, or within a year or two prior to that date. Late investigators have found that he studied at St Andrews, and that he may be identified Avith an Alexander Hume, who took the degree of Bachelor of Arts at St Leonard's college of that university in the year 1574. The outline of his farther passage through life is expressed in his own words, in his epistle to Mr Gilbert IMoncriefF, the king's physician. He there mentions, that, after spending four years in France, he was seized with a desire to become a lawyer in his own country, and he there draws a pathetic picture of the miseries of a briefless barrister, sufficient to extract tears from half the faculty. " To that effect, three years or near that space, I haunted niaist our highest pleading place And senate, wliere great causes reason 'd war; My breast was brin'sit with leaning on the bar; My buttons brist, I partly spitted blood, My gown was trail'd and trampid quhair I stood ; Pvly ears were deif'd with maissirs crjes and din Quhillc procuratoris and parties callit in." Nor did the moral aspect of the spot convey a more soothing feeling than the physical. He found " Tile puir abiisit anc hundredtli divers wayes ; Postpon'd, defler'd with shifts and mere delayes, Consimiit in gudes, ourset with grief and paine." From the corrupt atmosphere of the law, he turned towards the pure precincts of the court ; but here he finds that " f'rom the roeks of Cyclades fra liand, 1 struck into Charybdis sinking santl." He proceeds to say that, " for reverence of kings he will not slander courts," yet he lias barely maintained his politeness to royal ears, in his somewhat vivid description of all that the r^ilm poet experienced during his apprenticeship at court. " In courts, Montcrief, is pride, envie, contention, Dissimulance, despite, disecat, dissention. Fear, whisperings, reports, and new suspilion, Fraud, treason, Hes, dread, guile, and sedition ; 92 HUME. Great greadiiies, and prodigalitie ; Lusts sensual, and partialitie." with a continued list of similar qualifications, whose applicability is likely to be perceived only by a disappointed courtier, or a statesman out of place. During the days of his following the bar and the court, it is supposed that Hume joined in one of those elegant poetical amusements called " Flytings," and that he is the person who, under the designation of " Polwart,'" answered in fitting style to the abuse of Montgomery. That Alexander Hume was the person who so officiated, is, however, matter of great doubt : Dempster, a contemporary, men- tions that the person who answered Montgomery was Patrick Hume, a name which answers to that of the elder brother ; and though Leyden and Sibbald justly pay little attention to such authority, knowing that Dempster is, in general, as likely to be wrong as to be right, everyScotsman knows that the patrimo- nial designation " Polwart," is more appropriately the title of the elder than of the younger brother; while Patrick Hume of Polwarth, a more fortunate cour- tier, and less seriously disposed than his brother, has left behind him no mean specimen of his genius, in a poem addressed to James VI., entitled " The Pro- mise." AVhichever of the brothers has assumed Polwart's share in the contro- versy, it is among the most curious specimens of the employments of the elegant minds of the age. If the sacred poet, Alexander Hume, was really the person who so spent his youthful genius, as life advanced he turned his attention to more sei-ious matters ; that his youth was spent more unprofitably than his riper years approved, is displayed in some of his writings, in terms more bitter than those which are generally used by persons to whom expressions of repentance seem a becoming language. He entered into holy orders, and at some period was appointed minister of Logic, a pastoral charge of which he performed Avith vigour the humble duties, until his death in 1609. Before entering on the works Avhich he produced in his clerical retirement, it may be right to observe that much obscurity involves his literary career, from the circumstance that three other individuals of the same name, existing at the same period, passed lives extremely similar, both in their education, and in their subsequent progress. Three out of the four attended St Mary's college at St Andrews in company; — presuming that the subject of our memoir took his degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1574, one of his companions must have passed in 1571, tlie other in 1572. It is supposed that one of these was minister of Dunbar in 1582 ; the other is known to have been appointed master of the High school of Edinburgh in 1596, and to have been author of a few theological tracts, and of a Latin grammar, appointed by act of parliament, and by the privy council, to be used in all grammar schools in the kingdom : this individual has been discovered by Dr M'Crie, to have afterwards successively officiated as rector of the gTannnar schools of Salt-Preston and of Dunbar. The fourth Alex- ander Hume, was a student at St Leonard's college, St Andrews, where he entered in 1578 : he too was a poet, but the only existing specimen of his com- position is the following simple tribute to the labours of Bellenden, inscribed on a blank leaf of the manuscript of the translation of Livy, " Fyve buikes ar Jiere by Ballaiityne translated, Restis yet ane hundred threttie fyve behind ; Quilkis if the samyn war als weill compleated, Wuld be ane volume of ane monstrous kind.' ' The ingenious poet probably overlooks the fact of so many of Livy's books being lost, wiih the delibentie purpose of increasing the eflect of his verses. HUME. 93 Ilk man peif\(cs not quhat they once intend, So frail and brittle ar our wretched daj es ; Let sunie man then begine quhair he doeth ent!, Give him the first, tak thame the secund praise : No, no ! to Titus Livius give all. That peerles prince for feattis historicall." Af, A. Home, St Lconardes. A small manuscript volume bearing the name of Alexander Hume, and entitled " Rerum Scoticarum Compendium," is probably from the pen of one of these four, but of which, it may now be impossible to determine. Alexander Hume, minister of Logic, is, however, the undoubted author of " Hymnes or Sacred Songs, wherein the right use of poesie may be espied : Avhereunto are added, the experience of the author's youth, and certain precepts serving to the practice of sanctification." This volume, printed by Waldegrave in 1599, was dedicated to Elizabeth Melvill, by courtesy styled lady Culross, a woman of talent and literary habits, the authoress of '' Ane godlie dream, com- pylit in Scottish meter," printed at Aberdeen in 1644, The Hymns and Sacred Songs have been several times partially reprinted, and the original having fallen into extreme rarity, the whole has lately been reprinted by the Bannatyne club. In the prose introduction, the author addressing the youth of Scotland, exhorts them to avoid *' profane sonnets and vain ballads of love, the fabulous feats of Palmerine, and such like reveries." — " Some time," he adds, " I delighted in such fantasies myself, after the manner of riotous young men : and had not the Lord in his mercy pulled me aback, and wrought a gieat repentance in me, I had doubtless run forward and employed my time and study in that profane and unprofitable exercise, to my own perdition." The first of his hymns he styles his " Recantation :" it commences in the following solemn terms: Alace, how long have I delayed To leave the laits* of youth ! Alace how oft have I essayed To daunt my lascive mouth, And make my vajne polluted thought. My pen and speech prophaine, Extoll tlicLord quhilk madeofnocht The heaven, the earth, and maine. Skarce nature yet my face about, Hir virile net had spun, Quhen als oft as Phoebea stout Was set agains the Sun : Yea, als oft as the fierie flames Arise and shine abroad, I minded was with sangsand psalms To glorifie my God. But ay the cancred caninil kind, Quhilk lurked me within, Seduced my heart, withdrew my inind. And made me sclave to sin. INIy senses and my saull I siiw Dobait a deadlie strife, Into my flesh I felt a law Gainstaud the Law of life. * Ilabils or manners. 94 HUME. Even as tlie falcon high, and hait Furth fleeing in the skye, With M-anton wing hir game to gaif, Disdaines her caller's cry ; So led away with liberty, And drowned in delight, I wandred after vanitie — ]\Iy vice I give the wight. But by far the most beautiful composition in the collection, is that entitled the " Day Estival," the one which Leyden has thought worthy of revival. This poem presents a description of the progress and effects of a summer day in Scotland, accompanied by the reflections of a mind full of natural piety, and a delicate perception of the beauties of the physical world. The easy flow of the numbers, distinguishing it from the harsher productions of the same age, and the arrangement of the terms and ideas, prove an acquaintance with Eng- glish poetry ; but the subject and the poetical thoughts are entirely the author's own. They speak strongly of the elegant and fastidious mind, tired of the bar, and disgusted with the court, finding a balm to the wounded spirit, in being alone with nature, and watching her progress. The style has an unrestrained freedom which may please tlie present age, and the contemplative feeling thrown over the whole, mingled with the artless vividness of the descriptions, bringing the objects immediately before the eye, belong to a species of poetry at which some of the highest minds have lately made it their study to aim. We shall quote the commencing stanza, and a few others scattered in different parts of tlie Poem : " O perfect light ! which shed away The darkness from the light, And left one ruler o'er the day, Another o'er the night. Thy glory, when the day forth flies, More vively does appear Nor at mid-day unto our eyes The shining sun is clear. The shadow of the earth anone Removes and drawis by; S3iie in the east, when it is gone, Appears a clearer sky : Which soon perceives tlie little larks, The lapwing, and the snipe ; And tunes their songs, like nature's clerks, Our meadow, moor, and stripe. * * * • The time so tranquil is and still. That no where shall ye find. Save on a high and barren hill, An air of passing wind. All trees and simples, great and small, That balmy leaf do bear. Nor they were painted on a wall No more they move or stir. Calm is the deep and purpour sea. Yea smoother nor the sand : HUME. '-'^ The wallis that weltering wmit to I)e Are stable like the lanil. * * * * What pleasure 'twere to ^valk and see, Eiulloiig a river dear, The perfect form of every tree Within the deep appear ; The salmon out of crooves and creels Up hauled into skouts, The bells and circles on the weills Through louping of the truufs. O then it were a seemly thing, While all is still and calme, The praise of God to play and sing With cornet and with slialme. Rowe, in his manuscript History of the Church of Scotland, lias told us tliat Hume " was one of those godlie and faithful servants, who had witnessed against tlie hierarchy of prelates in tliis kirk." He proceeds to remark, " as to 3Ir Alexander Hoome, minister at Logie heside Stirlin, I nixt mention him : he has left ane admonition behind him in write to the kirk of Scotland, wherein he nffirmes that the bishops, who were then fast rising up, had left the sincere ministers, who wold gladlie have keeped still the good old government of the kirk, if these corrupt ministers had not left them and it; earnestlie entreating the bishops to leave and forsake that course wherin they were, els their defection from their honest bi'ethren, (with whom they had taken the covenant,) and from tlie cause of God, would be registrate afterwards to their eternale shame." The person who has reprinted Hume's Hymns and Sacred Songs for the Bannatyne club, has discovered among the elaborate collections of Wodrow, in the Advocate's Library, a small tract entitled, " Ane afold Admonition to the Ministerie of Scotland, be ane deing brother," which he, not without reason, presumes to be that mentioned by Rowe ; founding the supposition on the similarity of the title, the applica- bility of the matter, and a minute circumstance of internal evidence, whicli shows that the admonition was written very soon after the year IG07, and very probably at such a period as might have enabled Hume (who died in 1609) to have denominated himself " ane deing brother." Tlie whole of this curious production is conceived in a style of assumption, which cannot have been very acceptable to the spiritual pride of the Scottisli clergy. It commences in the following terms of apostolical reprimand ; — " Grace, mercy, and peace from (iod the Father, through our Lord Jesus Christ. It is certainlie knawin, bre- theren, to the greitf of monie godlie heartes and slander of the Gospell, that thair ar dissentionis among you : not concerning the covenant of (lod, or the seales of the covenant, but chieflie concerning twa poyntis of discipline or kirk govern- ment, wharanent you are divydit in twa factionis or opinionis." From this as- sumed superiority, the admonilionist stalks forth, bearing himself in lofty tcrins, never condescending to argue, but directing like a superior spirit ; and under the Christian term of humility, " bretheren," concealing an assumption of spiri- tual superiority, which the word "sons" would hardly have sufliciently ex- pressed. HUME, David, of Godscrofl. Tlie scantiness of the materials for lives of liter- ary Scotsmen has, with us, often been a subject of remark and regret ; and we are sure that every one who has had occasion to make investigations into this de- pai'tment of our national history will at once acquiesce in its truth. Our stnlcs- men have been applauded or condemned — at all events they have been im i- talized — by contemporary writers; the deeds of our soklici-s have been celebialed 9G HUME. in works relative to our martial achievements ; and our divines have always, and more especially in the darker ages, preserved a knowledge of themselves and their transactions, — but literary men are nearly forgotten, and for what is known of them we ai'e principally indebted to the labours of continental biographers. It would be difficult to point out a more striking illustration of this than the well known individual whose name appears at the head of this article. His name is familiar to every one who is in the least degree conversant with Scottish history or poetry ; — he was descended from an honourable family — he acted a prominent part in some of the earlier transactions of his own time, and still almost nothing- is known of his history. The indefatigable Wodrow has preserved many scattered hints regai'ding him in his Biographical Collections in the library of Glasgow col- lege, and except this we are not aware of any attempt at a lengthened biographi- cal sketch of him. In drawing up the following, we shall take many of our facts from that biography, referring also to the excellent works of Dr M'Crie, and occasionally supplying deficiencies from the few incidental notices of himself in Hume's works, David Hume, it is probable, was born about, or a few years prior to, the j^eriod of the Reformation. His father was Sir David Hume, or Home, of Wed- derburn, the representative of an old and distinguished family in the south of Scotland. His mother was Mary Johnston, a daughter of Johnston of Elphin- stone. This lady died eai'ly, and her husband, after having married a second wife, who seems to have treated his fann'ly in a harsh and ungenei-ous manner, died of consumption while the subject of this memoir was a very young man. The family thus left consisted of four sons — George, David, James, and John ; and four daughters — Isabell, IMargaret, Julian, and Joan. Of the early education of David Hume, we have not been able to learn almost any thing. His elder brother and he were sent to the public school of Dunbar, then conducted by fllr Andrew Sinison, and there is abundant evidence that he made very considerable progress in the acquisition of classical knowledge. He has left a poem, entitled Daphn-Amaryllis, written at the age of fourteen, and he incidentally mentions the expectations George Buchanan formed of his future eminence from his early productions. After receiving, it may be conjectured, the best education that a Scottish university then afforded, Hume set out for France, accompanied by his relation, John Haldane of Glcneagles. His intention was to have also made the tour of Italy, and for that purpose he had gone to Geneva, when his brother's health became so bad as to make his return desirable. On receiving the letters containing this information, he returned to Scotland without delay, " and arrived," to use his own words in his History of the Family of Wed- derburn, " much about the time that Esme, lord Aubigny, (who was afterwards made duke of Lennox,) was brought into Scotland — and that Morton began to decline in his credit, he being soon after first imprisoned, and then put to death ;" that is about the beginning of 1581. Sir George Home seems to have recovered his health soon afterwards, and David was generally left at his castle to manage his affairs, while he was engaged in transactions of a more difficult or hazardous nature. This probably did not continue long, for the earliest public transaction in which we have found him engaged took place in 1583. When king James VI. withdrew from the party conmionly known by the name of the Ruthven lords, and re-admitted the earl of Arran to his councils, Archibald, " the good earl" of Angus, a relation of Hume's family, was ordered to confine himself to the north of Scotland, and accordingly resided for some time at the castle of Brechin, the property of his brother-in-law the earl of Mar. At this period Hume seems to have lived in Angus's house, in the capacity of a " familiar scrvitour/' or confidential secretary. HUME. 97 V.'hen tlie Rutliren party were driven into England, Hume accompanied liis master and relation ; and while the lords remained inactive at Newcastle, request- ed leave to go to London, where he intended pursuing his studies. To this Angus consented, nith the ultimate intention of employing him as his agent at the English court. During the whole period of his residence at the English (capital, lie maintained a regular correspondence with the earl, but only two ol his letters (which he has printed in the History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus) have come down to us. Tiie Kuthven lords returned to Scotland in 1585, but soon offended the clergy by their want of zeal in providing for the security of the church. Their wrath was still farther kindled, by a sermon preached at this time before the king at Linlithgow, by John Craig, in which the offensive doctrine of obedience to princes was enforced. A letter was accordingly prepared, insisting upon the claims of the church, and transmitted to Mr Hume, to be presented to Angus. A very long conference took place betwixt the earl and Hume, which he has set down at great length in the above-mentioned work. He begins his own discourse by refuting the arguments of Craig, and shows, that although it is said in his text, *' I said ye are gods," it is also said, *' Nevertheless ye shall die ;" " which two," Hume continues, " being put together, the one shows princes their duty — Do justice as God doth ; the other threateneth punishment — Ye shall die if you do it not." He then proceeds to show, that the opinions of Bodinus in his work De Kepublica, and of liis own countryman Blackwood [see Blackwood], are absurd ; and having established the doctrine that tyrants may be resisted, he applies it to the case of the Ruthven lords, and justifies the conduct of Angus as one of that party. He then concludes in the following stx-ain of remonstrance : — " Your declaration which ye published speaks much of the public cause and common weal, but you may perceive what men think your actions since they do not answer thereto by this letter, for they are begun to think that howsoever you pretend to the public, yet your intention was fixed only on your own particular, because you have done nothing for the church or country, and have settled your own particular. And it is observed, that of all the parliaments that were ever held in this country, this last, held since you came home, is it in which alone there is no mention of the church, either in the beginning thereof, (as in all others there is,) or else\vhere throughout. Tiiis neglect of the state of the church and coun- try, as it is a blemish of your fact obscuring the lustre of it, so is it accounted an error in policy by so doin<>, to separate your particular irom the conuuon cause of the church and country, which, as it Iiatli been the mean of your parti- cidar restitution, so is it tiie only mean to maintain you in this estate, and to make it sure and firm." During the subsequent short period of this earl's life, Hume seems to have re- tained his confidence, and to have acted the part of a faithful and judicious ad- viser. After Angus's death, wliich took place in 1588, it is probable that he lived in retirement. Accordingly, we do not find any further notice of him till he appeared as an author in l(ii)5. One of king James's most favourite projects was the union of the kingdoms of England and Scotland, and soon after his accession to the English throne, com- missioners were appointed to consider the grounds upon which this object could be safely and advantageously attained. It would altogether exceed our limits were we to give even a faint outline of the proceedings of these conuuissioners, and it is the less necessary as their deliberations did not load to the desired re- sult. The subject, however, met with the attention of the most learned of our countrymen. The first work written on this subject was from the pen of Robert I'ont, one of the most respectable clergymen of his day, and a senator of the col- 98 HUME. lege of justice, while ecclesiastics were permitted to Iiolil that office. His work, which was published in 1604, is in the form of a dialogue between three imagi- nary personages — Irenasus, Polyhistor, and Hospes, and is now chiefly interesting as containing some striking remarks on the state of the country, and the obstacles to the administration of justice. Pont was followed by David Hume, our author, who published next year his treatise, DeUnione Insulae Bi-itannite, of which bishop Nicholson only says that " it is written in a clear Latin style, such as the author was eminent for, and is dedicated to the king : it shows how great an advantage such a union would bring to the island in general, and in particular to the se- veral nations and people of England and Scotland, and answers the objections against the change of the two names into that of Britain — the alteration of the regal style in writs and -processes of law — the removal of the parliament and other courts into England," &c. The first part only of this work of Hume's was pub- lished. Bishop Nicholson mentions that a BIS. of the second part mrs in Sir Robert Sibbald's collection, and Wodrow also possessed what he considered a very valuable copy of it. It would be improper to pass from this part of our subject, without referring to Sir Thomas Craig's work on the same subject, wliich still remains unprinted ; although in the opinion of his accomplished biographer, Mr Tytler, " in point of matter and style, in the importance of the subject to which it relates, the variety of historical illustrations, the sagacity of tile political remarks, and the insight into the mutual interests of the two coun- tries which it exhibits, it deserves to rank the highest of all his works." In the year 1608, Hume commenced a correspondence on the subject of epis- copa(;y and presbytery with James Law, then bishop of Orkney, and afterwards promoted to the archiepiscopal see of Glasgow. This epistolary warfare took its rise in a private conversation between Mr Hume and the bishop, when he came to visit the presbytery of Jedbui-gh in that year. The subject presented by much too large a field to be exhausted at a private meeting, and accordingly sujjplied materials for their communications for about thx'ee years. But here again we are left to lament that so little of it has been preserved. Calderwood has collected a few of the letters, but the gaps are so frequent, and consequently so little connexion is kept up, that they would be entirely uninteresting to a general reader. In 1613, Hume began a correspondence of the same nature with bishop Cowper on his accepting the diocese of Galloway. The bishop set forth an apology for himself, and to this Hume wrote a reply, which, however, was not printed, as it was unfavourable to the views of the court. Cowper answered his statements in his Dicaiology, but printed only such parts of Hume's argument as could be most easily refuted. To this Hume once more replied at great length. Shortly before this period he undertook the " History of the House of Wedderburn, (written) by a son of the family, in the year 1611," — a work which has hitherto remained in manuscript. " It has sometimes grieved me," he remarks, in a dedication to the earl of Home, and to his own brother, " when I have been glancing over the histories of our country, to have mention made so seldom of our ancestors, — scarce above once or twice, — and that too very shoi-tly and superficially ; whereas they were always remarkable for bravery, magnanimity, clemency, liberality, munificence, hospitality, fidelity, piety in religion, and obedience to their prince ; and, indeed, there never was a family who had a greater love and regard for their country, or more earnestly devoted themselves to, or more frequently risked their lives for, its service. It ought, in a more particular manner, to grieve you that they have been so long buried in oblivion, and do you take care that they be so no more. I give you, as it were, the prelude, or lay the ground-work of the history ; perhaps a pen more equal to the task, tir at least, who can do it with more decency, will give it the finishing stroke." HUME. 99 He does not enter into a minute inquiry into the origin of the family, a species of antiquarianism of which it must be confessed our Scottish historians are sulft- cieutly fond: — "My intention," he says, " does not extend farther than to write those things that are peculiar to the House of Wedderburn." The work begins with " David, first laird of Wedderburn," who appears to have lived about the end of the fourteenth century, and concludes with an account of the earlier part of his brother's life. Duringthe latter period of his life, Hume appears to have devoted himself almost entirely to literary pursuits. He had appeared before the world as a poet in his " Lusus Poetici," published in 1605, and afterwards incorporated into the excellent collection entitled " Delicice Foetarum Scotorum," edited by Dr Arthur Johnston. He seems to have added to his poetical works when years and habils of study niiglit be supposed to have cooled his imaginative powers. W hen prince Henry died, he gave vent to his gi-ief in a poem entitled " Henrici Principis Justa," which, Wodrow conjectures, was probably sent to Sir James Semple of Beltrees, then a favourite at court, and by whom it is not iuiprobable that it was shown to his majesty. A few years afterwards (1617) he wrote his " Regi Suo •iraticulatio," — a congratulatory poem on the king's revisiting his native country. In the same year he prepared (but did not publish) a prose work under the following- title, "Cambdenia; idest, ExamennonnuUorumaGulielmo Cambdenoin 'Britannia' sua positorum, prfficipue quae ad inisionem Scoticaj gentis, et eorum et Pictorum falsam originem." " In a very short preface to his readers," says Wodrow, " Mr Hume observes that nothing more useful to this island was ever proposed, than the union of the two islands, and scarce ever any proposal was more op- posed ; witness the insults in the House of Commons, and Paget'sfury, rather than speech, against it, for which he was very justly fined. After some other things to the same purpose, he adds, that Mr Cambden hath now in his Britannia appeared on the same side, and is at no small labour to extol to the skies England and liis Britons, and to depress and expose Scotland, — how unjustly he does so is Mr Hume's design in this work," Cambden's assertions were also noticed by William Drummond in his Nuntius Scoto-Britannus, and in anotlier of his works more professedly levelled against him, entitled " A Pair of Spectacles for Cambden." The last work in which we are aware of Hume's having been engaged, is his largest, and that by which he is best known. The History of the House and Kace of Douglas and Angus, seems to have been first printed at Edinburgh, by Evan Tyler, in 1641, but this edition has several discrepancies in the title-pa»e. Some copies bear tlie date 1G4S, " to be sold by T. W. in London," and others have a title altogether different, " A (ienerall History of Scotland, together with a particu- lar Iiistory of the houses of Douglas and Angus," but are without date. After mentioning in the preface that, in writing such a work it is impossible to please all parties, — that some may say that it is an unnecessary work — others, that it is merely a party-statement, — and a tliird complain of " the style, the phrase, the periods, the diction, and the language," Hume goes on to say, " in all these particulars, to satisfy all men is more than we can hope for; yet thus mucli sliortly of each of them to such as will give ear to reason : tliat I write, and of this subject, I am constrained to do it, not by any violence or compulsion, but by tlie force of duty, as I take it : for being desired to do it by those 1 wouKI not refuse, I tliought myself bound to honour that name, and in it and by it, our king and countrey. . . . Touching partiality, I deny it not, but am content to acknowledge my interest. Neither do 1 tiiink tliat ever any man did set pen to paper witliout some particular relation of kindred, countrey, or such like. 'J lie Momaiis in writing the Roinane, the (irecians in writing their Greek histories ; 100 HUniE. friends writing to, of, or for friends, may be tlioiight partinll, as countreymen and friends. The vertuous may be deemed to be partiail towaids the vertuous, and the godly towards the godly and religious : all writers have some such respe<;t, which is a kind of partiality. I do not refuse to be thought to have some, or all of these respects, and I hope none wil think I do amisse in having them. Pleas- ing of men, I am so farre from shunning of it, that it is my chief end and scope : but let it please them to be pleased with vertue, otherwise they shal find nothing here to please them. If thou findest any thing here besides, blame me boldly ; and why should any be displeased that wil be pleased with it? would to God I could so please the world, I should never displease any. But if either of these (partiality or desire to please) carry me besides the truth, then shal I confesse my self guilty, and esteem these as great faults, as it is faultie and blame-worthy to forsake the truth. But, otherwise, so the truth be stuck unto, there is no hurt in partiality and labouring to please. And as for truth, clip not, nor champ not my words (as some have done elsewhere), and 1 beleeve the worst afiected will not charge mee with lying. I have ever sought the truth in all things carefully, and even here also, and that painfully in every point : where I find it assured, I have set it down confidently ; where I thought there was some reason to doubt, I tell my authour : so that if I deceive, it is my self I deceive, and not thee ; for I hide nothing from thee that I myself know, and as I know it, leaving place to thee, if thou knowest more or better, which, if thou doest, impart and communicate it ; for so thou shouldest do, and so is truth brought to light, Avhich else would lye hid and buried. My paines and travel in it have been greater than every one would think, in correcting my errours ; thine will not hee so much, and both of us may furnish matter for a third man to finde out the truth more exactly, than either of us hath yet done. Help, therefore, but carp not For the language, it is my mother-tongue, that is, Scottish : and Avhy not, to Scottish men ? why should I contemne it ? I never thought the difference so great, as that by seeking to speak English, I would hazard the imputation of affectation. Every tongue hath its own vertue and grace. Some are more substantiall, others more ornate and succinct. They have also their own defects and fauliinesses, some are harsh, some are effeminate, some are rude, some affectate and swelling. The Romanes spake from their heart, the Grecians with their lips only, and their ordinary speech was complements ; especially the Asiatick (Jreeks did use a loose and blown kind of phrase. And who is there that keeps that golden mean ? For my own part, I like our own, and he that writes well in it, writes well enough to me. Yet I have yeelded somewhat to the tyrannie of custome and the times, not seeking curiously for words, but taking them as they come to hand. I acknowledge also my fault (if it be a fault), that I ever accounted it a mean study, and of no great commendation to learn to write, or to speak English, and have loved better to bestow my pains and time on forreign languages, esteeming it but a dialect of our own, and that, (perhaps) more corrupt." The work commences with a preface concerning " the Douglases in general, that is, their antiquity, to which is joined their original, nobility and descent, greatness and valour of the family of the name of Douglas." The history begins with Sholto Douglas, the first that bore the name, and the vanquisher of Donald Bane, in the reign of king Salvathius,— and concludes with the death of Archibald, ninth earl of Angus, who has been already noticed in the course of this memoir. With this work closes every trace of David Hume. It is supposed to have been written about 1625, or between that period and 1(530, and it is not probable that he survived that period long. Supposing him to have been born about 15G0, he must then have attained to the age of three score years and ten. HUMfi. 101 Respecting Hume's mei'its as a poet, different opinions exist. While in the opinion of Dr Irving he never rises above mediocrity, Dr M'Crie places him in a somewhat higher rank : " The easy structure of his verse reminds us continually of the ancient models on which it has been formed ; and if de- licient in vigour his fancy has a liveliness and buoyancy which prevents tlie reader from wearying of his longest descriptions." These opinions are, after all, not irreconcilable ; the poetry of Hume possesses little originality, hut tiie reader is charmed with the readiness and the frequency of his imitations of the Koman poets. As an historian, Hume can never become popular. He is by much too prolix, — nor will this be wondered at when we consider the age at which he wi'ote his principal historical work. To the reader, however, who is disposed to follow him through his windings, he will be a most valuable, and in many cases, a most amusing author. As the kinsman of the earls of Angus, he had access to many important family papers, from which he has compiled the history prior to his own time. But when he writes of transactions within his own re- collection, and more especially those in which he was personally engaged, there is so much judicious remark and honesty of intention, that it cannot I'ail to in- terest even a c^areless reader. Besides the works which we have mentioned, Hume wrote " Apologia Basi- lica, Seu Machiavelli Ingenium Examinatum, in libro quern inscripsit Brinceps, 4,to, Baris, 162G." " De Episcopatu, May 1, IGOd, Batricio Simsono." '* A treatise on things indiflei-ent." " Of obedience to superiors." In the Bio- graphic Universelle tliere is a memoir of him, in which it is mentioned that " Jaques I"'"' I'employe a concilier les diff'erends qui s'estaient eleve entre Du- moulin et Tilenus au sujet de la justification," and he is also there mentioned as having written " Le Contr' Assassin, ou Keponse a I'Apologie des Jesuites," Geneva, 1612, Svo, and " L'Assassinat du Koi, ou Maximes Bratiquees en la personne du defaut Henrie le Grand," 1017, 8vo. HUME, David, the celebrated metaphysician, historian, and political economist, was the second son of Joseph Hume of Ninewells, near Dunse in the county of Berwick, and was born at Edinburgh on tlie 2(ith of April, 1711, O. S. His mother was daughter to Sir Uavid Falconer, a judge of the court of session under the designation of lord Newton, and for some years president of the college of justice. The family of Hume of Ninewells was an- cient and respectable, and the great philosopher has himself informed us, tliat on the side both of father and mother, he was the descendant of nobility, a cir- cumstance from which he seems to have derived a quiet satisfaction, probably owing more to his respect for tlie manners and feelings of the country and age in which he lived, than to his conviction of the advantages of noble birth. It is to be regretted that little is known about the early life of Hume, and the habits of his boyish years. There are indeed very few instances, in which the information which can be derived about the early h.ibits and inclinations of a man who has afterwards distinguished himself, repays the labour of research, or even that of reading the statements brought forward; while many avIio have busied themselves in such tasks have only shown that the objects of their atten- tion were by no means distinguished from other men, in the manner in which they have spent their childliood ; but it must be allowed that in the case of Hume, a narrative of the gradual rise and developement of that stoic^il contempt towards the objects which distract the minds of most men, that industry without enthusiasm, that independence without assumption, and stri(;t morality founded only on reason, which distinguished his conduct through life, miglit have tauj^bt us a lesson of the world, and would at least have gratiiied a well groiindcd 102 HUME. curiosity. Tlie absence of such information allows us, lio\^ever, to make a general inference, that no part of the conduct of the schoolboy was sufficiently remarkable to be commemorated by his friends, and that, as he was in advanced life (independent of the celebrity produced by his works) a man of unobserva- ble and unassuming conduct ; he was as a boy docile, well behaved, and attentive, without being remarkable either for precocity of talent, or that carelessness and insubordination which some biographers have taken pains to bring home to the subjects of their memoirs. In early infancy Hume was deprived of his father, and left to the guidance of his mother and an elder brother and sister ; with the brother wlio succeeded by birthright to the family property, he ever lived on terms of fraternal intimacy and affection, and towards his two female i-elatives he displayed, through all the stages of his life, an unvarying kindness and un- remitted attention, which have gone far, along with his other social virtues, in causing him to be respected as a man, by those who were his most bitter oppon- ents as a philosopher. The property of the respectable family of Ninewells was not lai'ge, and the limited share which fell to the younger brother precluded the idea of his sup- porting himself w ithout labour. Having finished the course of study which such an institution was capable of providing, he attended for some time the university of Edinburgh, then rising in reputation; of his progress in study he gives us the following account : " I passed through the ordinary course of education with success, and was seized very early Avith a passion for literature, which has been the ruling passion of my life, and the great source of my enjoyments ; my studious disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a notion that the law was a proper profession for me : but I found an insurmountable aver- sion to every thing but the pursuits of philosophy and general learning ; and while they fancied I was poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors I was secretly devouring.' " Of this aversion not only to the practice^ but to the abstract study of the law, in a mind constituted like that of Hume, guided by reason, acute in the perception of differences and connexions, naturally prone to industry, and given up to the indulgence neither of passion nor sentiment, it is difficult to account. We are ignorant of the method by ' It is almost uiinecessar}' to mention, that when we use the words of Hume about himself, we quote from that curious little memoir called " My Own Life," written by Hume on his death- bed, and published in 1777, by Mr Strahaii, (to whom the manuscript was consigned) previously to its publication in the ensuing edition of the History of England. In a work which ought to contain a quantity of original matter proportioned to the importance of the su'ijects treated, some apology or explanation may be due, for quoting from a production which lias been brought so frequently before the public; but in the life of a person so well known, and into whose conduct there has been so much investigation, while we try to bring together as much original matter as it is possible to obtain, we must frequently be conteiUed with statements modeled according to our own views, and in our own language, of facts whicli have already been frequently recorded. Independent of this necessit)', the memoir of the author written by himself, is so characteristic of his mind an feelings, both in the method of the narrative, and in the circumstances detailed, that any life of Hume which might neglect re- ference to it, must lose a very striking chain of connexion betwixt the mind of the author and the character of his works. Let us here remaik, tl .. while (in the words of Hume himself) "it is difficult for a man to speak long of himseh without vanity." This little memoir seems to have defied criticism to discover anj thing injudicious or assuming, either in the de- tails or reflections. It is true, he has been slightly acx;ased of speaking with too much com- placency of his own good qualities: but be it remarked, those qualitiis of disposition to study, sobriety, and industry, are such as a man of genius is seldom disposed to arrogate to himself, at least without some hints of the existence of others more brilliant and distinguishing. We Ginnothelp being of opinion, that the author's philosophical command over his feelings has piompted him to avoid the extremes which the natural egotism and vanity of most men would have caused them to fall into on similar occasions, of either alluding to very high qualities which the suffrages of others had allowed that they possessed, or gaining credit for hunn'iity, by not recognizing the existence of qualities which thay know their partial friends would he ready to admit. HUME. J 03 \vhi(;li he pursued his legal studies, and this early acquired disgust would at least hint, that like his friend lord Kanies, lie commenced his career MJth the repul- sive drudgery of a writer's office, in which his natural taste for retirement and reflection was invaded by a vulgar routine of commercial business and petty squabbling, and his arutenoss and good taste offended by the tiresome formali- ties with which it was necessary he should occupy much valuable time, previous- ly to exercising his ingenuity in the higher walks of the profession. But to those who are acquainted with the philosophical, and more especially with the con- stitutional writings of Mr Hume, the contemptuous rejection of tiie works of tlie civilians, and the exorbitant preference for the Roman poets, will appear at least a singular confession. To him any poet offered a mere subject of criticism, to be tried by the standard of taste, and not to gratify his sentiment ; while in the works of the civilians he would have found (and certainly did find) the acute philosophical disquisitions of minds which were kindred to his own, both in pro- fundity and elegance, and in the clear and accurate Vinnius, whom lie has sen- tenced with such unbrotherly contempt, he must have found much which as a philosopiier he respected, whatever distaste arbitrary circumstances might have given him towards the subject which that great man treated. In 1734, the persuasions of his friends induced Mr Hume to attempt the bettering of his income by entering into business, and he established himself in the office of a respectable merchant in Bristol ; but the man who had rejected the study of the law, was not likely to be fascinated by the bustle of commerce, and probably in opposition to the best hopes and wishes of his friends, in a few months he relinquished his situation, and spent some years in literai-y retire- ment in France, living fii'st at Kheims, and afterwards at La Fleche in Anjeau. " I there," he says, " laid that plan of life which I have steadily and success- fully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every ob- ject as contemptible, except the improvement of my talents in literature ;" and witli the consistency of a calm and firm mind, he kept his resolution. Frr some time previous to this period, Hume nuist have been gradually collecting that vast mass of observation and reflection which he employed himself during liis retirement in digesting into the celebrated Treatise on Human Nature. In 1737, he had finished the first two volumes of this work, and he then returned to London to superintend their publication. From this date commenced the earliest traces of that literary am' social correspondence which furnishes many of the most characteristic conuueiuaries on the mental habits of the philosopher. With Henry Home, afterwards lord Kames, a near neighbour of the family of Ninewells, and probably a connexion of the philosopher (for lie was the first member of the family who adopted the name of Hume, in preference to the family name Home,) he contracted an early friendship, and a similarity of pur- suits continued the intercourse. To that gentleman we find the subject of our lueinoir writing in the following terms, in December, 1737 : " 1 have been here near three months, always uitiiiii a week of agreeing with my printers: and you may imagine I did not forget the work itself during that time, when I be- gan to feel some passages weaker for the style and «liction than I could have wished. The nearness and greatness of the event roused up my attention, and made me more difficult to please than when I was alone in perfect tranquilliiy in France." The remaining portion of this communication, though given in the usual placid and playful manner of the author, tells a painful tale of the difficulties he had to encounter, and of hope deferred. " I'-ut licre," he says, " I must tell you one of my foibles. 1 have a great inclination to go down to Scotland tliis spring to see my friends, and have your advice concerning iiy 104 HUM!-:. phiioHophicnl discoveries : but cannot overcome a certain shame- facedness I have to appear among you at my years without having got a settlement, or so iiiucli as attempted any. How happens it, that we philosophers cannot as heartily despise the world as it despises us ? I think in my conscience the contempt were as well founded on our side as on the other." With this letter Mr Hume transmitted to his friend a manuscript of his Essay on Miracles, a work which he at that period declined publishing along with his other produc- tions, looking on it as more likely to give olfence, from the greater i-eference of its reasonings to revealed religion. Towards the termination of the year 1738, Hume published his " Treatise of Human Nature ; being an attempt to introduce the experimental method of reasoning into moral subjects." The fundamental principles on which the whole philosophy of this work is reared, discover themselves on reading the first page, in the division of all perceptions — in other words, of all the materials of knowledge which come within the comprehension of the human mind, — into impressions and ideas. Differing from almost all men who, using other terms, had discussed the same subject, he considered these two methods of acquiring knowledge, to diPi'er, not in quality, but merely in degree ; because by an ob- servation of the qualities of the mind, on the principle of granting nothing which could not be demonstrated, he could find no real ground of distinction, excepting that the one set of perceptions was always of a more vivid description than the other. The existence of impressions he looked on as prior in the mind to the existence of ideas, the latter being merely dependent on, or re- flected from the former, ;vhich were the first inlets of all knowledge. Among perceptions he considered the various methods by which the senses make the mind acquainted with tiie external woi'ld, and along with these, by a classifica- tion which might liave admitted a better arrangement, he ranked the passions, which he had afterwards to divide into those which were the direct consequents of the operations of the senses, as pain and pleasure, and those which the repe- tition of impressions, or some other means, had converted into concomitants, or qualifications of the mind, as hatred, joy, pride, &:c. By ideas, Sir Hume understood those arrangements of the perceptions formed in the mind by reasonings or imagination ; and although he has maintained the distinction between these and the impressions of the senses to be merely in degree, nil that has been eitiier blamed or praised in his philosophy is founded on tiie use he makes of this distinction. He has been accused, and not without justice, of confusion in his general arrangement, and disconnexion in th.e subjects he has discussed ."s allied to each other ; but a carel'ul peruser of his works will find the division of subject we have just attempted to explain, to pervade the whole of his extraordinary investigations, and never to be do- parted from, where language allows him to adhere to it. The ideas, or more faint perceptions, are made by the author to be completely dependent on tlie impressions, showing that there can be no given idea at any time in the mind, to which thei-e has not been a corresponding impression conveyed through tlie organs of sense. These ideas once existing in the mind, are subjected to the operation of the memory, and form the substance of our thoughts, and a por- tion of the motives of our actions. Thus, at any given moment, thei'e are in the mind two distinct sources of knowledge, (or of what is generally called knowledge,) — the impressions which the mind is receiving from surrounding objects through the senses, and tlie thoughts, which pass through the nn'nd, modi- fied and arranged from such impressions, previously experienced and stored up. Locke, in his arguments against the existence of innate ideas, and Dr Berkeley, when he tried to show that the mind could contain no abstract ideas, (or ider.s HUME. 105 not connected with anything which the mind had experienced,) had formed the outline of a similar division of knowledge ; but neither of tliem founded on such a distinction, a system of philosophy, nor were they, it may be well conceived, aware of the extent to which the principles they suggested might be logically carried. The division we have endeavoured to define, is the foundation of the sceptical philosophy. The knowledge immediately derived from impressions is that which truly admits the term " knowledge" to be strictly applied to it ; that ^vliich is founded on experience, derived from previous expressions, is something which always admits of doubt. While the former are always certain, the mind being unable to conceive their uncertainty, the latter may not only be conceived to be false, but are so much the mere subjects of probability, that there are distinc- tions in the force which the mind attributes to them — sometimes admitting them to be doubtful, and making no more distinction, except in the greater amount of probabilities betwixtthat which it pronounces doubtful, and that which itpronounces certain. As an instance — when a man looks upon another man, and hears him speak, he receives thi-ough the senses of hearing and sight, certain impressions, the existence of which he cannot doubt; on that man, however, being no longer the object of his senses, the impressions ai'e arranged in his mind in a reflex form, constituting what IMr Hume has called ideas ; and although he may at first be con- vinced in a manner sufficiently strong for all practical purposes, that he has actually seen and heard such a man, the knowledge he has is only a mass of probabili- ties, which not only admit him to conceive it a possibility that he may no< have met such a man, but actually decay by degrees, so as probably after a consider- able period to lapse into uncertainty, while no better line of distinction can be drawn betwixt the certainty and the uncertainty, than that the one is pi'oduced by a greater mass of probabilities than the other. The author would have been inconsistent, had he admitted the reception of knowledge of an external world, even through the medium of the senses : he maintained all that tlie mind had really cognizance of, to be the perceptions themselves ; there was no method of ascertaining with certainty what caused them. The human mind, then, is thus discovered to be nothing but a series of perceptions, of which some sets have such a resemblance to each other, that we always naturally arrange them together in our thoughts. Our consciousness of the identity of any given individual, is merely a series of perceptions so similar, that the mind glides along them without observation. A man's consciousness of his own identity, is a similar series of impressions. " The mind," says the author, " is a kind of theatre, where se- veral perceptions successively make tlieir appearance — pass, repass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite variety of postmes and situations. Thei"e is properly no simplicity in it at one time, nor ideniiti/ in difiei-ent, whatever natural pro- pension we may have to imagine tiiat simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theatre must not mislead us. They are the successive perceptions only tliat constitute the mind ; nor have we the most distant notion of the place where these scenes are represented, or of the materials of which it is composed.'" From such a conclusion, the passage to scepticism on the innuaterialify of the soul was a natural and easy step : but on such a subject we nmst be cautious as to the man- ner in which we make remarks on the observations made by Hume — we neither appear as among his vindicators, nor for the purpose of disputing his con<;liisions — our purpose is, as faithful bionjraphcrs, to give, as far as our limits and our knowledge of the subject may admit, a sketch of his leading doctrines, and if we have any thing to vindicate, it will be the author's real meaning, which cer- tain zealous defendei-s of Christianity, have shown an anxiety to turn as batteries against it. In his reasonings on the immateriality of the soul he is ti-uly scepti- ' Works (1826), i. 322. III. 106 HUME. cal ; that is, while he does not deny the immateriality of the soul, he endeavours to show that the mind can form no certain conception of the immaterial soul. Refining on the argument of a reasoning poet, who probably was not aware of tlie full meaning of his own words when he said — ' " Of God above, or man below. What can we reason, but from what we know." The author of the treatise on Human Nature maintained that the mere succession of impressions, of which the mind was composed, admitted of no such impression as that of the immateriality of the soul, and consequently did not ad- mit of the mind comprehending in what that immateriality consisted. Let it be remembered, that this conclusion is come to in the same manner as that against the consciousness of the mind to the existence of matter ; and that in neither case does the author maintain certain opinions which men believe to be less certain than they are genei-ally conceived to be, but gives to them a name different from that which language generally bestows on them — that of masses of probabilities, in- stead o{ certainties, — the latter being a term he reserves solely for the impressions of the senses. " Should it here be asked me," says the author, " whether 1 sin- cerely assent to this argument, which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and wliether I be really one of those sceptics, who hold that all is uncertain, and that our judgment is not in any thing, possessed of any measures of truth and false- hood; I should reply, that this question is entirely superfluous, and that neither I, nor any other person, was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Na- ture, by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel ; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a sti'onger and fuller light, upon account of their customary connexion with a pre- sent impression, than we can hinder ourselves from thinking, as long as we are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies, when we turn our eyes towards them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken the pains to refute the cavils of this total scepticism, has really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavoured by arguments to establish a faculty which nature has antecedently implanted in the mind, and rendered unavoidable."' With this extremely clear statement, which shows us, that while Hume had a method of accounting for the sources of our knowledge difl^ering from the theories of other philosophers, in the abstract cer- tainty which he admitted to pertain to any knowledge beyond the existence of an impression, his belief in the ordinary admitted sources of human knowledge was not less practically strong than that of other people, — let us connect the conclud- ing words on the chapter on the immortality of the soul : " There is no foundation for any conclusion a priori, either concerning the operations or duration of any object, of which 'tis possible for the human mind to form a conception. Any object may be imagined to become entirely inactive, or to be annihilated in a moment : and 'tis an evident principle, that whatever we can i7?iagine is pos- sible. Now this is no more true of matter than of spirit — of an extended com- pounded substance, than of a simple and unextended. In both cases the meta- physical arguments for the inniiortality of the soul are equally inconclusive : and in both cases the moral arguments, and those derived from the analogy of nature, are equally strong and convincing. If my philosophy, therefore, makes no rddition to the arguments for religion, I have at least the satisfaction to think it takes notiiing from them, but that every thing remains precisely as before."^ Without pretending to calculate the ultimate direction of the philosophy of Hume, as it regards revealed religion, let us repeat the remai'k, that many persons " Works, vol. i. p. 240. =* Works i p. 319. HUME. 107 busied Uieniselves in increasing its terrors as an engine against the Cluistian faitli, that they might have the merit of displaying a chivalrous resistance. '1 lie presumptions thus formed and fostered, caused a vigorous investigation into the grounds of all belief, and many good and able men were startled to find that it was necessary to admit many of the positions assumed by their subtle antagonist, and that they must employ the vigorous logic they had brought to the field, in stoutly fortifying a position lie did not attack. They found '' the metaphysical arguments inconclusive,' and " the moral arguments, and those derived from the analogy of nature, equally strong and convincing :" and that useful and beautiful system of natural theology, which has been enriched by the investigations of Derham, Tucker,* and Paley, gave place to obscure investigations into first causes, and idle theories on the grounds of belief, which generally landed the philosophers in a circle of confusion, and amazed the reader with incomprehen- sibilities. One of the most clear and original of the chapters of the Treatise on Human Nature, has pi'ovided us with a curious pi'actical instance of the pliability of the sceptical philosophy of Hume. In treating the subject of cause and effect, IMr Hume, with fidelity to his previous division of perceptions, found nothing in the eftect produced on the mind by any two phenomena, of which the one received the name of cause, the other that of effect, but two impressions, and no connexion betwixt them, but the sequence of the latter to the former ; attribut- ing our natural belief that the one is a cause, and the other its effect, to the habit of the mind in running from the one impression to tliat which is its inunediate sequent, or precedent ; denying that we can have any conception of cause and eftect beyond those instances of which the mind has had experience, and which habit has taught it ; and, finally, denying that mankind can penetrate farther into the mystery, than the simple knowledge that the one phenomenon is experienced to follow the other. Men of undoubtedly pure religious faith have maintained the justness of this system as a metaphysical one, and it has found its way into physical science, as a check to vague theories, and the assumption of conjectural causes : in a memorable instance, it was however attacked as metaphysically subversive of a proper belief in the Deity as a first cause. The persons who maintained this argument, were answered, that an op- posite supposition was morally subversive of a necessity for the constant exis- tence and presence of the Deity ; because, if" a cause had the innate power within it of producing its common ell'ect, the wh(de fabric of the universe had an innate power of existence and progression in its various changes, which dispensed with the existence of a supreme regulator." The second volume of the Treatise on Human Nature, discusses the passions on the principles laid down at the commencement of tlie previous volume. The subjects here treated, while they are not of so strikingly original a description as to prompt us to enlarge on their contents, may be a more acceptable morsel to most readers, and certainly may be perused with more of what is termed satisfaction, than the obscure and somewhat disheartening investigations of the pure metapiiysician. Of the usual subtilty and acuteness of the author they are of course not destitute ; but the theatre of investigation does not admit of much abstraction, and these qualities exercise themselves on subjects more tangible and comprehensible, than those of the author's prior labours. The production of the Treatise on Human Nature, stands almost alone in the history of the human mind ; let it be remembered that the author had just reached that period of existence when the animal spirits exercise their strongest * Not Josiith, hut Abraham Tucker, who, under the assumed nanit; of "Sv^aruh," wiote a book OH the liijht of nature, in 9 vols., 8vo. An unobtrusive and profound work, nut very in- viting, and little read, which later philosophers have pillaged without compunction. 108 HUME. sway, and those whom nature has gifted with talents and observation, are exuU^ ing- in a brilliant world before them, of which they are enjoying the prospectiva felicity, without tasting much of the bitterness ; and that this extensive treatise, so varied in the subjects embraced, so patiently collected by a lengthened labour of investigation and reflection, and entering on views so adverse to all that rea- son had previously taught men to believe, and so repulsive to the common feel- ings of the world, was the first literary attempt which the author deigned to place before the public. Perhaps a very close examination of the early habits and conduct of tbe author, could the materials of such be obtained, would scarcely furnish us with a clue to so singular a riddle; but in a general sense, we may not diverge far from the truth in supposing, that the circumstances of his earlier intercourse with the world, had not prompted the author to entertain a very charitable view of mankind, and that the bitterness thus engendered com- ing under the cognizance of his reflective mind, instead of turning him into a stoic and practical enemy of his species, produced that singular system which, holding out nothing but doubt as tlie end of all mortal investigations, struck a silent blow at the dignity of human nature, and at much of its happiness. In a very singular passage, he thus speaks of bis comfortless philosophy, and of the f; olings it produces in the mind of its Cain-like fabricator. " I am first aftVighted and confounded with that forlorn solitude in which I am placed in my philosophy, and fancy myself some strange uncouth monster, who, not being able to mingle and unite in society, has been expelled all human commerce, and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate. Fain would I run into the crowd for shelter and warmth, but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such de- fornity. I call upon others to join me, in order to make a company apart, but no one will hearken to me. Every one keeps at a distance, and dreads that storm which beats upon me from every side. 1 liave exposed myself to the enmity of all metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even theologians ; and can I Avonder at the insults 1 must sutler ? I have declared my disapprobation of their systems ; and can I be surprised if they should express a hatred of mine and of my person ? When I look abroad, I foresee on every side dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny, and detraction. When I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt and ignorance. All the world conspires to oppose and contradict me : though such is my weakness, that I feel all my opinions loosen and fall of them- selves, when unsupported by the approbation of others. Every step I take is with hesitation, and every new reflection makes me dread an error and absurdity in my reasoning."^ In the same spirit he writes to his friend, Mr Henry Home, immediately after the publication of the treatise : "Those," he says, " who are accustomed to reflect on such abstract subjects, are commonly full of prejudices ; and those who are unprejudiced, are unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings. My principles are also so remote from all the vulgar sentiments on the subject, that were they to take place, they would produce almost a total alteration in philosophy; and you know revolutions of this kind are not easily brought about."" Hume, when the reflection of more advanced life, and his habits of unceasing- thought had made a more <;lear arrangement in his mind, of the prin«;iples of his philosophy, found many things to blame and alter in liis treatise, not so nmch in the fundamental arguments, as in their want of arrangement, and the obscure garb of words in which he had clothed them. On the feelings lie entertained on this subject, v/e find him afterwards writing to Dr John Stewart, and we shall here quote a rather mutilated fragment of this epistle, which has ' Works, i. p. S35. ' IMler'b Life vt' Kan:es. HUME. 109 hitherto been unprinted, and is interesting as containing an illustration of his arguments on belief:—" Allow me to tell you that I never asserted so absurd a proposition, as that any thing might arise without a cause. I only maintained that our certainty of the falsehood of that proposition proceeded neither from intuition nor demonstration, but from another source. That Cesar existed, that there is such an island as Sicily ; for these propositions, I affirm, we have no demonstration nor intuitive proof. Would you infer that I deny their truth, or even their certainty ? and some of them as satisfactory to the mind, though, perhaps, not so regular as the demonstrative kind. Where a man of sense mis- takes my meaning, I own I am angry, but it is only with myself, for having expressed my meaning so ill as to have given occasion to the mistake. That you may see I would no Avay scruple of owning my mistakes in argument, I shall acknowledge (what is infinitely more material) a very great mistake in conduct ; viz. my publishing at all the Treatise of Human Nature, a book which pretended to innovate in all the sublimest parts of philosophy, and which I composed before I was five and twenty. Above all, the positive air which pervades that book, and which may be imputed to the ardour of youth, so much displeases me, that I have not patience to review it. I am willing to be unheeded by the public, though human life is so short that I despair of ever seeing the decision. I wish I had always confined myself to the more easy paths of erudition ; but you will excuse me from submitting to proverbial decision, let it even be in Greek." The effect produced on the literary world by the appearance of the Treatise on Human Nature, was not flattering to a young author. " Never literary attempt," says Mr Hume, " was more unfortunate than my Treatise on Human Nature. It fell dead-born from the press, without reaching such distinction, as even to excite a murmur among the zealots. But being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted with great ardour my studies in the country." The equanimity, and contempt for public opinion which Hume has here arrogated to himself, seems to be considered as somewhat doubtful, by his principal biographer,' on the ground of the following curious statement in Dr Kenrick's London Keview : — " His disappointment at the public reception of his Essay on Human Nature, had indeed a violent effect on his passions in a particular instance ; it not having dropped so rfead-born from the press, but tliat it was severely handled by the reviewers of those times, in a publication entitled. The Works of the Learned ; a circumstance which so liighly provoked our young philosopher, that he flew in a violent rage to demand satisfaction of Jacob Uobinson, the publisher, whom he kept, during ' Hitchie's life of Hume, p. 29. It is not creditable to the literature of the rountry, that while tlie memoirs of Karnes, Beattie, and otliers, have been written very elaborately, and pub- lished in a splendid manner, this life by I\Ir Ritchie is tiie only detailed memoir oi" Hume we possess : the fault, perhaps, lies chiefly with the family connexions of the philosopher, who, to all applications for the materials which they possess for ati extended memoir, have invariably returned for answer, that, as their distinguished kinsman wrote his own life, and no doubt put into it all that he desired to be known respecting himself, they do not consider themselves at liberty to publish any more : an answer certainly, but one in which it might be difficult to discern a recison. Mr Hitchie, though a c^indid writer, is strikingly inferior to his task. As an instance of his inal>ility even to understiind the commonest propositions of Hume, we shall adduce the following: — The phil(is(i|)her commencing a train of argument with the word " lingland," mainliiins that, were all the gold of the country rendered as common as silver, and silver as common as copper, money would not be more plentiful, or interest lower; our shillings would then be yellow, and our halfpence white ; and we should have no guineas. No other dill'erence would ever be observed ; no alteration on commerce, manufacture, navigation, or interest; unless that we imagine that the colour of the metal was of any consequence. l\Ir Ritchie summons great powers of argument against this heresy: " H' England, "he sa)S, »' were the only inhabited country in the world, Mr Hume's inference would be just; but while the precious metals are in high and uiiivei^sjil request among foreign nations, a super- abundant quantity of them in this country must ever liave an essential elttct on our iiUernai and external economy !" 110 HUME, the paroxysm of his anger, at his sword's point, trembling behind the counter, lest a period sliould be put to the life of a sober critic by a raving philosopher." The degree of credit to be attributed to this anecdote, must just be measured by tile amount to which we may choose to believe the anonymous contributor to a periodical not celebrated for its regard to truth, who writes just after the deatii of the person concerned, and forty years after the period of the event he nar- rates. We have perused with much interest the article in " The Works of tlie Learned " here alluded to, and it is certainly not likely to engender calm feel- ings in the mind of the author reviewed. It is of some length, attempting no philosophical confutation, but from the ingenuity with which the most objection- able passages of the Treatise are brought forward to stand in naked grotesque- ness without connexion, it must have come from some one who has carefully perused the book, and from no ordinary writer. The vulgar raillery with which it is filled might point out Warburton, but then the critic does not call the author a liar, a knave, or a fool, and the following almost prophetic passage with which the critic concludes (differing considerably in tone from the other parts), could not possibly have emanated from the head and heart of the great defender of the church: "It bears, indeed, incontestible marks of a great capacity, of a soaring genius, but young, and not yet thoroughly practised. The subject is vast and noble, as any that can exercise the understanding ; but it requires a very mature judgment to handle it as becomes its dignity and impor- tance ; the utmost prudence, tenderness, and delicacy, are requisite to this desirable issue. Time and use may ripen these qualities in our author ; and vye shall probably have reason to consider this, compared with his latter produc- tions, in tlie same light as we view the juvenile works of Milton or the first manner of a Raphael.'''' The third part of Mr Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, was published in 1740 : it treated the subject of morals, and was divided into two parts, the for- mer discussing " Virtue and Vice in general," the second treating of " Justice and Injustice." The scope of this essay is to show that there is no abstract and certain distinction betwixt moral good and evil, and while it admits a sense of virtue to have a practical existence in the mind of every human being, (however it may have established itself,) it draws a distinction betwixt those virtues of which every man's sense of right is capable of taking cognizance ; and justice, which it maintains to be an artificial virtue, erected certainly on the general wish of mankind to act rightly, but a virtue which men do not naturally follow, until a system is invented by human means, and based on reasonable principles of general utility to the species, which shows men what is just, and what is unjust, and can best be followed by the man, who has best studied its general artificial form, in conjunction with its application to utility, and who brings tlie most acute perception and jud;;ment to assist him in the task,** The greater plainness of the subject, and its particular reference to the hourly duties of life, made this essay more interesting to moral philosophers, and laid it more Avidely open to criticism, than the Treatise on the Understanding, and even that on the Passions. The extensive reference to principles of utility, produced discussions to which it were an idle and endless work hei'e to refer ; but without any disre- spect to those celebrated men who have directly combated the principles of this work, and supported totally different theories of the formation of morals, those " Thus this portion of die system bore a considerable resemblance to the theory so elabo- rately expounded in the Leviathan of Hobbes, with this grand distinction, that Hume, while maintaining the necessity that as\stem of justice should be fiamed, does not maintain that it had its origin in the natural injustice of mankind, and their hatred of each otiier, nor does he attribute the formation of the s_\steni to a complicated social contract, like tliitt which occurred to the mind of the Malmesbury philosopher. HUME. 1 1 1 «!i() have twistetl the principles of tlie author into excuses for vice and immo- rality, and the destruction of all inducements to the practice of virtue, deserve only the fame of being themselves the fabricators of the crooked morality of which they have endeavoin-ed to cast the odium upon another. When Mr Hume says, ** The necessity of justice to the support of society is the sole foundation of that virtue ; and since no moral excellence is more highly esteemed, we niay con- clude, that this circumstance of usefulness has, in general, the strongest energy, and most entire command over our sentiments. It must, therefore, be the sour<;e of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to lunnanity, benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp ; as it is the sole source of the moral approbation paid to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other estimable and useful qualities and ])rinciples:" — it was not ditHcult for those benevolent guardians of the public mind, who sat in Avatch to intercept such declarations, to hold such an opinion up to public indignation, and to maintain that it admitted every man to examine his actions by his own sense of their utility, and to commit vice by tlie application of a theory of expediency appro- priated to tiie act. It is not necessary to be either a vindicator or assailant of Mr Hume's theory, to perceive that wliat he has traced back to the original foundation of expediency, is not by him made ditlerent in its practice and ert'ecis, from those which good men of all persuasions in religion and philosophy admit. \\ hile he told men that he had traced the whole system of the morality they practiced, to certain principles different from those generally admitted, he did not tell men to alter their natural reverence for virtue or abhorrence towards vice ; the division betwixt good and evil had been formed, and while giving his opinion Iioiv it had been formed, he did not dictate a new method of regulating human actions, and except in the hands of those who applied his theories of the origin of virtue and vice, to the totally dilferent pui-pose of an application to their practice in individual c^ses, he did no more to break down the barriers of distinction betwixt them, than he who first suggested that the organs of sight merely presented to the mind the reflections of visible objects, may be supposed to have done to render the mind less certain of the existence of external objects. " There is no spectac;le," says tlie author, " so fair and beautiful as a noble and generous action ; nor any which gives us more abhorrence than one which is cruel and treacherous. No enjoyment equals the satisfaction we receive from the company of those we love and esteem ; as the greatest of all punishments is to be obliged to pass our lives with those we hate or contemn. A very play or romance may afford us instances of this pleasure whicli virtue conveys to tis, and the pain which arises from vice ;'" and it would be difHwilt to find in this ela- borate essay, any remark to contradict the impression of the author's views, which every c^indid mind must receive from such a declaration. The neglect with which liis first production was received by the public, while it did not abate the steady industi-y of its author, turned his attention for a time to subjects which might be more acceptable to general readers, and in the calm retirement of his brother's house at Ninewells, where lie jtursued bis studies with solitary zeal, he prepared two volumes of unconnected disserta- tions, entitled " Kssays IMoral and I'hilosophiciil," which he published in 1742. These essays he had intended to liave published in weekly papers, after the method pursued by the authors of the Spectator; " but," he observes, in nn ad- vertisement prefixed to the first edition, " having dropped that undertaking, partly from laziness, partly from want of leisure, and being willing to make trial of my talents lor writing before 1 ventured upon any more serious cdniposi- tions, I was induced to counuit these trifles to the judgment of the public" A " Works, ii. 237. 112 HUME. few of the subjects of these essays are the following : "Of the Delicacy of Taste and Passion," " That Politics may be reduced to a Science," " Of the Independ- ency of Pai-liament, " " Of the Parties in Great Britain," " Of Superstition and Enthusiasm," •' Of Liberty and Despotism," " Of Eloquence," " Of Simplicity and Uefinement," " A character of Sir Robert Walpole," &c. Of these miscellaneous productions we cannot venture the most passing analysis, in a memoir which must necessarily be brief: of their general character it may be sufficient to say, that his style of writing, which in his Treatise was far from approaching the purity and elegance of composition which he afterwards displayed, had made a rapid advance to excellence, and that the reading world quickly discovered from the justness and accuracy of his views, the elegance of his sentiments, and the clear precision with which he stated his arguments, that the subtile calculator of the origin of all human knowledge could direct an acute eye to the proceedings of the world around him, and that he was capable of making less abstract calcu- lations on the motives which affected mankind. A few of these essays, which he seems to have denounced as of too light a nature to accompany his other works, were not republished during his life; among the subjects of these are "Impu- dence and Modesty," " Love and Blarriage," " Avarice," &c. Although these have been negatively stigmatized by their author, a general i-eader will find much gratification in their perusal : the subjects are handled with the careless touch of a satirist, and in drawing so lightly and almost playfully pictures of what is contemptible and ridiculous, one can scarcely avoid the conviction that such is the aspect in which the author wishes to appear ; but on the other hand there is such a complete absence of all grotesqueness, of exaggeration, or at- tempt at ridicule, that it is apparent he is drawing a picture of what he knows to be unchangeably rooted in human nature, and that knowing raillery to be useless, he is content as a philosopher merely to depict the deformity which can- not be altered. Among the essays he did not re-publish, is the " Character of Sir Robert Walpole," a singular specimen of the author's ability to abstract him- self from the political feelings of the time, calmly describing the character of a living otatesman, whose conduct was perhaps more feverishly debated by his friends and enemies than that of almost any minister in any nation, as if he were a person of a distant age, with which the author had no sympathy, or of a land with whicli he was only acquainted through the pages of the traveller. It was after the publication of this work that Hume first enjoyed the gratifica- tion of something like public applause. " The work," he says " was favoura- bly received, and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment," He still rigidly adhered to his plans of economy and retirement, and continued to reside at Ninewells, applying himself to the study of Greek, which he had previously neglected. In 1745, he was invited to become tutor to the marquis of Annandale, a young nobleman whose state of mind at that period rendered a superintendent necessary ; and though the situation must have been one not conducive to study, or pleasing to such a mind as that of Hume, he found that his circumstances would not justify a refusal of the invitation, and he continued for the period of a year in the family of the marquis. During his residence in this family, the death of Mr Cleghorn, professor of moral philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, caused a vacancy, which Mr Hume very naturally considered he might be capable of filling. The patrons of the university, however, and their advisers, look a different view of the mat- ter, and judged that they would be at least more safe, in considering a person of his reputed principles of philosophy, as by no means a proper instructor of youth : nor were virulence and party feeling unmixed with cool judgment in fixing their choice. " I am informed," says Hume, in one of his playful letters HUME. il'i addressed to liis friend .AIi- Sharp of HodcLini, " Uiat such a popular clamour iins been raised against nie in Edinburgh, on account of scepticism, heterodoxy, and other hard names which confound the ignorant, that my friends find some dif- ficulty in woi'king out the point of my professorship, which once appeared so easy. Did I need a testimonial for my orthodoxy, I should certainly appeal to you ; for you know that I always imitated Job's friends, and defended the cause of providence when you attacked it, on account of the headaches you felt after a debauch, but as a more particular explication of that particular seems super- fluous, I shall only apply to you for a renewal of your good offices, Avith your friend lord TinAvald, whose interest with Yetts and Allan may be of service to me. There is no time to lose ; so that I must beg you to be speedy in writing, to him, or speaking to him on that head." The successful candidate was IMr James Balfour, advocate, a gentleman who afterwards became slightly known to the literary world as the author of " A Delineation of the Nature and Obligations of Morality, with reflections on Mr Hume's Inquiry concerning the principles of Morals," a work which has died out of remembrance, but the candid spirit of which prompted Hume to write a complimentary letter to the (then) anonymous author. The disappointment of not being able to obtain a situation so desir- able as affording a respectable and permanent salary, and so suited to his studios, seems to have preyed more heavily than any otlier event in his life, on the spirits of Mr Hume ; and witli the desire of being independent of the world, he seems for a short time to liave hesitated whether he should continue his studies, or at once relinquish the pursuit of philosophical fame, by joining tiie army. During the ens'iing year, his desire to be placed in a situation of respectabil- ity was to a certain extent gratified, by his being appointed secretary to lieu- tenant-general St Clair, who had been chosen to command an expedition avow^ edly against Canada, but which terminated in a useless incursion on tlie coast of France. In the year 1747, general St Clair was appointed to superintend an embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin, and declining to accept a secretary from government, Hume, for whom he seems to have entertained a partiality, ac- companied liim in his former capacity. He here enjoyed the society of Sir Henry Erskine and captain (afterwards genci'al) Grant, and mixing a little with the world, and joining in the fashionable society of the places which lie visited, lie seems to have enjoyed a partial relaxation from his philosophical labours. Although he mentions that these two years were almost the only interruptions which his studies had received during the course of liis life, he docs not seem to have entirely neglected his pursuits as an author ; in a letter to his friend llcnry Home, he hints at the probability of his devoting his time to historical subjects, and continues, " I have here two things going on, a new edition of my Essai/s, all of which you have seen except 07ie of the I'rotcstant succession, where I treat that subject as coolly and indifferently as I would the dispute betwixt Cesar and Pompey. The conclusion shows me a whig, but a very s«',eptical one." '" Lord Charlemont, who at this period met with Mr Hume at Turin, has given the following account of liis habits and appearance, penned apparently ^\ith a greater aim at effect than at truth, yet somewhat characteristic of the philoso- pher : " Nature I believe never formed any man more unlike his real character than David Hume. The powers of physiognonjy were baffled by his counte- nance : neither could the most skilful in that science pretend to discover the Bmallest trace of the faculties of liis mind, in the unmeaning features of his visage. His face was broad and fat, his mouth wide, and without any other ex- pression than that of imbecility. His eyes vacant and spiritless ; and the cor- pulence of iiis \\holc person \wns far better fitted to communicate the idea of a 10 T)tlcr's Life of Kamec. ui. p 114 HUME. turtle-eating alderman than of a refined philosopher. His speech in English Avns rendered ridiculous by the broadest Scottish accent, Jind his French, was, if possible, still more laughable ; so that wisdom, most certainly, never disguised herself before in so uncouth a garb. Though now near fifty years old,'' he was healthy and strong ; but his health and strength, far from being advantageous to Ills figure, instead of manly comeliness, had only tlie appearance of rusticity. His wearing a uniform added greatly to his- natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a grocer of the train-bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant-general, and was sent to the courts of Vienna and Turin as a military envoy, to see that their quota of troops was furnished by the Austrians and Piedmontese. It was theie- fore thought necessary that his secretary should appear to be an officer; and Hume was accordingly disguised in scarlet.'"' The letter to Mr Home we have quoted above, gives an idea of the literary employments of the author during the intervals of liis official engagements at Turin, and on his return to Britain he exhibited the fruit of Iiis labour in a second edition of his " Essays, Moral and Political," which was publislied in 1748, with four additional essays, and in a re-construction of the first part of his Treatise of Human Nature, which he published immediately after, under the title " Philosophical Essays concerning the Human Understanding," and formed the first part of the well-known corrected digest of the Treatise of Human Nature, into the " Inquiry concerning Human Nature." In the advertisement the author informs the.public that "most of the principles and reasonings in this volume were published in a work in three volumes, called A Treatise of Human Nature, a work which the author had projected before he left college, and which he wrote and published not long after. The philosophy of this work is essentially the same as that of which he had previously sketched a more rude and complicated draught. The object, (or more properly speaking, the con- clusion arrived at, for the person who sets out without admissions, and inquires whether any thing can be ascertained in philosophy, can scarcely be said to have an object in view,) is the same system of doubt which he previously ex- pounded ; a scepticism, not like that of Boyle and others, which merely Avent to show the uncertainty of the conclusions attending particular species of argument, but a sweeping argument to show that by the sti-ucture of'the understanding, the result of all investigations, on all subjects, must ever be doubt." The Inquiry must be to every reader a work far more pleasing, and we may even say, in- structive, than the Treatise. While many of the more startling arguments, as- suming the appearance of paradoxes, sometimes indistinctly connected with the subject, are omitted, others are laid down in a clearer form ; the whole is subjected to a more compact arrangement, and the early style of the writer, which to many natural beauties, united a considerable feebleness and occasional harshness, makes in this work a very near approach to the elegance and classic acGui-acy, which much perseverance, and a refined taste enabled the au- thor to acquire in the more advanced period of his life. Passing over, as our limits must compel us, any attempt at an analytical comparison of the two works, and a narrative of the changes in the author's opinions, we must not omit tiie circumstance, that the Essay on Miracles, which it will be remembered the au- thor withheld from his Treatise, Avas attached to the Inquiry, probably after a careful revision and correction. Locke had hinted in a few desultory observa- tions the grounds of a disbelief in the miracles attributed to the early Christian church, and Dr Conyers Middleton, in his Free Inquiry into the miraculous powers supposed to have subsisted in the Christian church from the earliest ages, " His lordship must have made a mis-calculation. Hume was then only in his 3Sth ye.ir, '2 Hanlx's Life of lord (.■iuulcmoiit, p. 8. HUME. 115 published very nearly at the same period with the Essay of Hume, struck a more decided blow at all supernatural agency beyond what was justified by the sacred Scriptures, and approached by his arguments a dangerous neighbourhood to an interference with what he did not avowedly attack. Hume considered the subject as a general point in the Iiuman understanding to which he admitted no exceptions. The argument of tliis remarkable essay is too well known to require an explanation ; but the impartiality too often infringed wlien the works of this philosopher are the subject of consideration, requires that it should be kept in mind, that he treats the proof of miracles, as he does that of the existence of matter, in a manner purely sceptical, with this practical distinction, — that suppos- ing a person is convinced of, or chooses to say he believes in the abstract exist- ence of matter, independent of the mere impressions conveyed by the senses, there is still room to doubt that nn'racles have been worked. It would have been entirely at variance with the principles of scepticism to have maintained that miracles were not, and could not have been performed, according to the laws of nature ; but the argument of IMr Hume certainly leans to the practical con- clusion, that our uncertainty as to what we are said to have experienced, ex- pands into a greater uncertainty of the existence of miracles, which are contrary to the course of our experience ; because belief in evidence is founded entirely on our belief in experience, and on the circumstance, that what we hear from the testimony of others coincides with the current of that experience ; and when- ever testimony is contradictory to the current of our experience, the latter is the more probable, and should we be inclined to believe in it, we must at least doubt the former. Thus the author concludes " That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind that its falseliood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish : and even in that case there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior only gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force which remains after deducting the inferior." The application of his argument to the doctrines of Christianity he conceives to be, that " it may serve to confound those dangerous friends, or disguised enemies to the Christian religion, who have undertaken to defend it by the principles of human reason ; our most holy religion is founded on fait/i, not on reason ; and it is a sure metliod of exposing it to put it to such a trial as it is by no moans fitted to endure." " Considering the matter, apart from the reference it has been considered to have to holy writ, the I'ssay on Miracles is the most sound and conclusive exposition of the proper px'inciples of ordinary belief which has ever been penned. The arguments cannot be too well considered by the historian or the reader of history ; and were they better appreciated by men, and cautiously inl'used into the minds of the young, before slovenly habits of thought on such subjects Ijave taken root in tlie mind, history might gi'adually be purged of its fable, the natural hankering after the marvel- ous might be checked, and when the false appetite for exaggeration had begun to decay, those who call themselves writers of history might cease in their at- tempts to gratify a craving no longer felt. The work by Dr Campbell in confutation of this essay, at first concocted in tlie form of a sermon, and afterwards expanded into a treatise, which was published in 17G2, is well known and appreciated ; but it may not be useless to repeat the remark, that the excellent arguments of tiie author have had the more weight, because he treated the subject not like a petulant child, but like a philosopher. The work, in a state of manuscript, was shown to Hume by Dr lilair. Hume was mucli pleased with the candour of the transaction ; he re- marked a few passages hardly in accordance with the calm feelings of the other 13 \Vo)ks, iv. 135, 15:3. U6 HUME. portions of the work, wliich at his suggestion the author amended ; and he per- sonally wrote to Dr Campbell, with his usual calm politeness, thanking him for treatment so unexpected from a clergyman of the church of Scotland; and, witli the statement that he had made an early resolution not to answer attacks on his opinions, acknowledged that he never felt so violent an inclination to de- fend himself. The respect which Campbell admitted himself to entertain for the sceptic is thus expressed : " The Essay on Miracles deserves to be considered as one of the most dan- gerous attacks that have been made on our religion. The danger results not solely from the merit of tlie piece : it results much more from that of tJie au- thor. The piece itself, like every other work of Mr Hume, is ingenious ; but its merit is more of the oratorical kind than of the philosophical. The merit of the aictJior, I acknowledge, is great. The many useful volumes he has published of history, as well as on criticism, politics, and trade, have justly procured him, with all persons of taste and discei'nment, the highest reputation as a writer. * * In such analysis and exposition, which I own, 1 have at- tempted without ceremony or reserve, an air of ridicule is unavoidable ; but this ridicule, I am well aware, if founded on misrepresejitation, will at last rebound upon myself." ^' Dr Campbell was a man of strong good sense, and knew well the description of argument which the world would b6st appreciate, approve, and comprehend, in answer to the perplexing subtilties of his opponent. He struck at the root of the system of perceptions merging- into experience, and experience regulat- ing' the value of testimony, which had been erected by his adversary, — and ap- ]»ealing, not to the passions and feelings in favour of religion, but to the com- mon convictions which we deem to be founded on reason, and cannot separate from our minds, maintained that " testimony has a natural and original influence on belief, antecedent to experience," from which position he proceeded to show, that tiie miracles of the gospel had received attestation sufficient to satisfy the reason. With his usual soundness aiid good sense, though scarcely with the profundity which the subject required, Dr Paley joined the band of confutors, Avhile he left Hume to triumph in the retention of the effects attributed to ex- j>erience, maintaining- that the principle so established was counteracted by our natural expectation that the Deity should manifest his existence, by doing such acts contrary to the established order of the universe, as would plainly show tSiat order to be of his own fabrication, and at his own command. Before leaving the subject of the Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, we may mention that Mr Coleridge in his Biographia Literaria, has accused Hume of plagiarizing the exposition of the Principles of Association in that work, from the unexpected source of the Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, on the Barva Naturalia ofAristotle, and the charge, with however much futility it may be supported, demands, when coming from so celebrated a man, the consi- deration of tlie biographer. Mr Coleridge's words are, " In consulting- the excellent Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, on the Parva Naturalia of Aris- totle, I was struck at once with its close resemblance to Hume's Essay on Asso- ciation. The main thoughts were the same in both, the order of the thoughts was the same, and even the illustrations differed only by Hume's occasional sub- stitution of modern examples. I mentioned the circumstance to several of my literary acquaintances, who athnitted the closeness of the resemblance, and that it seemed too great to be explained by mere coincidence ; but they thought it improbable that Hume should have held the pages of the angelic doctor worth turning over. But some time after, Mr Payne, of the King's Mews, showed Sir " Edit. 1797, Advert, p. viii. HUME. HT' James 31ackintosh some odd volumes of St Thomas Aquinas, partly, perhaps, from liavina^ hoard that Sir James (tlien Mr) Mackintosh, had, in liis lectures, passed a high encomium on tiiis canonized philosopher, but <;hieily from the facts, that the volumes had belonged to Mr Hume, and liad here and there marginal marks and notes of reference in his own hand-writing. Among- tlicse volumes was that wliich contains the Parva Naturalia, in the old Latin version, swathed and swaddled in the connnentary afore mentioned." When a person has spent much time in the perusal of works so unlikely to be productive, as those of Aquinas, the discovery of any little coincidence, or of any idea that may attract attention, is a fortunate incident, of which the discoverer cannot avoid informing the world, that it may see what he has been doing, and the coincidence in question is such as migiit have excused an allusion to the subject, as a curiosity. But it was certainly a piece of (no doubt heedless) disingenuousness on the part of 3Ir Coleridge, to make so broad and conclusive a statement, without accompanying it with a comparison. " We have read," says a periodical paper alluding to this subject, " the whole commentary of St Tiiomas Aquinas, and we challenge Mr Coleridge to produce from it a single illustration, or expression of any kind, to be found in Hume's essay. The whole scope and end of Hume's essay is not only dirt'erent from that of St Thomas Aquinas, but there is not in the commen- tary of the 'angelic doctor' one idea which in any way resembles, or can be made to resemble, the beautiful illustration of the prince of sceptics," ^^ The theory of Hume on the subject as corrected in his Inquiry, is tlius expressed: " To me, there appear to be only three principles of connexion among ideas, namely, resemblance, contiguity, in time or place, and cause or effect. That these principles serve to connect ideas, will not, I believe, be much doubted. A picture naturally leads our thoughts to tlie original. The mention of one apartment in a building naturally introduces an inquiry or discourse concerning the others ; and if we think of a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the pain which follows it."'® From a comparison of this, with what Mr Coleridge must have presumed to be the coi'rcsponding passage in Aquinas,''' it will bd perceived that a natural wish to make the most of his reading had prompted him to propound the discovery. Had no other person besides Aquinas endeavoured to point out the regulating principles of association, and had Hume with sucli a passage before him pretended to have been the first to have discovered tliem, there might have been grounds for the accusation ; but the methods of connexion discovered by philosophers in different ages, liave been numerous, and almost always correct, as secondari/ principles. It was the object of Hume to gather these into a thread, and going back to principles as limited and ulti- mate as he could reach, to state as nearly as possible, not all the methods by which ideas were associated, but to set bounds to the abstract principles under which these methods might be classed. Aquinas, on the other hand, by no means sets boinids to the principles of association ; he gives three metliods of association, and in the matter of number resembles Hume ; but had he given twentj/ methods, he might have more nearly embraced what Hume has embraced within his three principles. The method of association by resemblance is the '* BliU'kwood's Miigaziue, v. iii, 656. '* Works, iv. p. 25. " Tiie passige is as follows : "similiter eliam quantloqiie reminiscitur aliquis iucipiens ab aliqua re, cujus memoratur a qua proccilit ad aliam Iriplici ralione. Quaiidoque quiilem ratione similitudinis, sicut quaiido alii(uis memoratur do Soeratu, et per hoc oecurrit ei Plato, qui est similis ci in sapientia : quandoque vero ratione conlrarielalia, sieut si aliquis memoro- tur Hectoiis, et per hoc occunit ei Achilles. Quandoque vero ratione pi-opiiKjuitatis cujus- luiiqiie, sicut cum aliquis memor est patris, ct ))er lioc oecurrit ei filius. Et eadem ratio est lie quacuiiquu alia propinquitate vel societatis, vel loci, vel tenii)oris, ct propter hoc fit rcmiiiisceiitia, quia motus horum se iiivicem consequuiitur. " 118 HUME, only one stated by both : with regard to the second principle by Aquinas, contra- riety, tVoia the illustration with which he has accompanied it, he appears to mean local or physical opposition, such as the opposition of two combatants in a battle, and not the interpretation now generally bestowed on the term by philosophers. But supposing him to have understood it in the latter sense, Hume has taken pains to show that contrariety cannot easily be admitted as a fourth ultimate principle : thus in a note he says, " For instance, contrast or contrariety is also a connexion among ideas, but it may perhaps be considered as a mixture of causation and resemblance. Where two objects are contrary, the one destroys the other ; that is, is the cause of its annihilation, and the idea of the annihila- tion of an object, implies the idea of its former existence." Aquinas, it will be remarked, entirely omits "cause and effect," and his "contiguity" is of a totally different nature fi-om that of Hume, since it embraces an illustration which Hume would have referred to the principle of " cause and effect." " I had always," says Hume, in reference to the work we have just been noticing, " entertained a notion that my want of success in publishing the Treatise of Human Nature, had proceeded more from the manner than the mat- ter, and that I had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion, in going to the press too early. I, therefore, cast the first part of the work anew, in the Inquiry concei'ning Human Understanding, which was published while I was at Turin. But this piece was at first little more successful than the Treatise of Human Nature. On my return from Italy, I had the mortification to find all England in a ferment, on account of Dr 3Iiddleton's Free Inquiry, while my performance Avas entirely overlooked and neglected." About this period, Hume suffered the loss of a mother, who, according to his own account, when speaking of his earlier days, was " a woman of singular merit, who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing of her children ;" and the philosopher seems to have regarded her with a strong and devoted affection. He was a man whose disposition led him to unite him- self to the world by few of the ordinary ties, but the few which imperceptibly held him, Avere not broken without pain ; on these occasions the philosopher yielded to the man, and the cold sceptic discovered the feelings with which nature had gifted him, which at other moments lay chained by the bonds of his powerful reason. A very different account of the efl^ect of this event, from what we have just now stated, is given in the passage we are about to quote (as copied in the Quarterly Review,) from the ti-avels of the American Silliman. Without arguing as to the probability or improbability of its containing a true statement, let us remark that it is destitute of proof, a quality it amply requires, being given by the traveller forty years after tl:e death of the philosopher, from the report of an individual, Avhile the circumstance is not one which would have probably escaped the religious zeal of some of Mr Hume's commentators. " It seems that Hume received a religious education from his mother, and early in life was the subject of strong and hopeful religious impressions ; but as he approached manhood they were efRiced, and confirmed infidelity succeeded. Maternal partiality, however, alarmed at first, came at length to look with less and less pain upon this declension, and filial love and i-everence seem to have been absorbed in the pride of philosophical scepticism ; for Hume now applied him- self with unwearied and unhappily with successful efforts, to sap the foundation of his mother's faith. Having succeeded in this dreadful Avork, he went abroad into foreign countries; and as he was returning, an express met him in London, with a letter from his mother, informing him that she was in a deep decline, and could not long survive : she said she found herself without any support in her distress : that he had taken away that source of comfort upon which, in all cases HUME. 119 of aSlit tion, she used to rely, and ibat slie now found her mind sinking into despair. She did not doubt but her son would afford her some substitute for her religion, and she conjured him to hasten to her, or at least to send her a letter, containing such consolations as philosophy can afford to a dying mortal. Hume was overwhelmed with anguish on receiving this letter, and hastened to Scot^ land, travelling day and night ; but before he arrived, his mother expired. No permanent impression seems, however, to have been made on his mind by this most trying event; and whatever remorse he might have felt at the moment, he soon relapsed into his wonted obduracy of heart." On tlie appearance of this anecdote, Mr (now baron) Hume, the philosopher's nephew, communicated to the editor of the Quarterly Review the following anecdote, of a more pleasing nature, connected with the same circumstance ; and while it is apparent that it stands on better ground, we may mention that it is acknowledged by the reviewer as an authenticated contradiction to the statement of Silliman. *' David and he (the hon. 3Ir Boyle, brother of the earl of Glasgow) were both in London, at t/te period when David'' s mother died. 3Ir Boyle, hearing of it, soon after went into his apartment, for tliey lodged in the same house, where he found him in the deepest affliction, and in a flood of tears. After the usual topics of condolence, 3Ir Boyle said to him, ' 3Iy friend you owe this uncommon gi-ief to your having thrown olFthe principles of religion ; for if you had not, you would have been consoled with the firm belief, that the good lady, who was not only the best of mothers, but the most pious of Christians, was completely happy in the realms of the just.' To which David replied, * Thougli I throw out my speculations to entertain the learned and metapliysical world, yet, in other things, I do not think so differently from the rest of mankind as you imagine.' " Hume returned, in 1749, to the retirement of his brother's house at Nine- wells, and during a residence there for two years, continued his remodeling of his Treatise of Human Nature, and prepared for the press his celebrated Political Discourses. The former protluction appeared in 17 51, under the title of an " Inquiry concerning the Principles of 3lor.ils," published by Millar, the celebrated bookseller. Hume considered this the most perfect of his works, ami it is impossible to resist admiration of the clearness of the arguments, and tlie beautiful precision of the theories ; the world, however, did not extend to it the balmy influence of popularity, and it appeared to the author, that all his literary ellorts were doomed to the unhappy fate of being little regarded at first, and of gradually decaying into oblivion. " In my opinion," he says, " (who ought not to Judge on that subject,) [it] is, of all my writings, historiuil, philo- sophical, or literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and unobserved into the world." In 1752, and during the author's residence in Edinburgh, appeared liis "Political Discourses." Tlie subjects of these admirable essays were of interest to every one, the method of treating them was comprehensible to persons of connnon discernment; above all, they treated subjects on which the prejudices of few absolutely refused conviction by argument, and the author had the oppor- tunity of being appreciated and admired, even when telling truths. The book in these circumstances, was, in tiie author's words, " the only work of mine that was successful on the first publication. It was well received abroad and at home." The chief subjects were, " Commerce, money, interest, the balance of trade, the populousness of ancient nations, the idea of a perfect common- wealth." Sir Josiah Child, Sir William Petty, Hobbes, and Locke, had pre- viously given the glimmerings of more liberal principles on trade and manutac- tm-e than those which tliey saw practised, and hinted at the conmion prejudices 120 HUME. on the use of money .ind the value of labour ; but Hume was the first to sketch an outline of some branches of the benevolent system of political economy franunl by liis illustrious friend, Adam Smith. He laid down labour as the only criterion of all value, made a near approach to an ascertainment of the true value of the precious metals, a point not yet fully fixed among economists ; dis- covered the baneful effects of commercial limitations as obliging the nation to trade in a less profitable manner than it would choose to do if unconstrained, and predicted the dangerous consequences of the funding system. The essay on the populousness of ancient nations, was a sceptical analysis of the authorities on that subject, doubting their accuracy, on the principle of political economy that the number of the inliabitants of a nation must have a ratio to its fruitfulness and tlieir industry. The essay was elaborately answered by Dr Wallace, in a Disser- tation of the Numbers of Mankind, but that gentleman only produced a host of those " authorities," the efficacy of which Mr Hume has doubted on principle. This essay is an extremely useful practical application of the doctrines in the Essay on Miracles. Mr Hume's ' idea of a perfect commonwealth,' has been objected to as an impracticable system. The author probably had the wisdom to make this discovery himself, and might have as soon expected it to be appli- cable to practice, as a geometrician might dream of his angles, straight lines, and points, being literally accomplished in the measurement of an estate, or the building of a house. The whole represents men without passions or prejudices working like machines ; and Hume no doubt admitted, that while passion, pre- judice, and habit, forbade the safe attempt of such projects, such abstract struc- tures ought to be held up to the view of the legislator, as the forms into which, BO fiir as he can do it with safety, he ought to stretch the systems under his administration. PLato, More, Harrington, Hobbes, and (according to some accounts,) Berkeley'^ had employed their ingenuity in a similar manner, and Hume seems to have considered it worthy of his attention. In February, 1752, David Hume succeeded the celebrated Ruddiman, as librarian to the Faculty of Advocates. The salary was at that time very ti-itling, somewhere we believe about £40, but the duties were probably little more than nominal, and the situation was considered an acquisition to a man of literary habits. It was, with this ample field of authority at his command, that he seems to have finally determined to write a portion of the History of England. In 17 57 J circumstances with which we are not acquainted induced him to relinquish this appointment. In 1752, appeared the first (published) volume of the History of England, embracing the period from the accession of the house of Stiuirt, to the death of Charles the First; and passing over intermediate events, we may mention that the next volume, containing a continuation of the series of events to the period of the Revolution, appeared in 175G, and the third, containing the History of the house of Tudor, was published in 1759. " 1 was, I own," says the author with reference to the first volmne, " sanguine in my expectations of the success of this work. I thought that I was the only historian that had at once neglected pi-esent power, interest, and authority, and the cry of popular prejudices ; and as the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional applause. But miserable was my disappointment ; 1 was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even detestation ; English, Scottish, and Irish, whig and tory, churchman and sectary, freetiiinker and religionist, patriot and courtier, united in their rage against the man, who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Ciiarles I. and the earl of Strafford ; and after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink IS In the anonj mous adventun'S of Giovanni do Lucca. HUME. J 21 into oblivion." Of the second lie says, "This perlbiniance liappencd to <>ive less displeasure to the whigs, and was better received. It not only rose itself", but helped to buoy up its unfortunate bi-otlier." Of the History of England it is extremely difficult to give a fair and unbiased opinion, because, while the author is, in general, one of the most imj)artial writers on this subject, it is scarcely p. paradox to say, that the few partialities in which he has indulged, have done more to warp the mind than the violent prejudices of others. Pre- vious to his history, those who wrote on political subjects ranged themselves in parties, and each man proclaimed with open mouth tiie side for which he was about to argue, and men heard him as a special pleader. Hume looked over events with the eye of a philosopher ; he seemed to be cai-eless of the extent of the good or bad of either party. On neither side did he abuse, on neither did he laud or even justify. The side which he adopted seldom enjoyed approba- tion or even vindication, and only in apology did he distinguish it from that to which he was inimical. From this peculiarity, the opinions to which he leaned acquired strength from the suffrage of one so apparently impartial and uncon- cerned. Notwithstanding the prejudices generally attributed however to Hume as an historian, we cannot set him down as an enemy to liberty. No man had grander views of the power of the human mind, and of the higher majesty of intellect, when compared with the external attributes of rank ; and the writings of a republican could not exceed in depicting this feeling, the picture he has drawn of the parliament of Charles the First, and of the striking circumstances of the king's condemnation. Ihe instances in which he has shown himself to be inconsistent, may, perhaps, be more attributed to his habits, than to his opinions. His indolent benevolence prompted a sympathy with the oppressed, and he felt a reluctance to justify those who assumed the aspect of active assailants, from whatever cause ; while in matters of religion, viewing all persuasions in much the same aspect, unprejudiced himself, he felt a contempt for those who indulged in prejudice, and was more inclined to censure than to vindicate those who acted from religious impulse. With all his partialities, how- ever, let those who study the character of the author while they read his liistory recollect, that he never made literature bow to rank, that he never flattered a great man to obtain a favour, and that, though long poor, he was always inde- pendent. Of the seeming contradiction between his life and opinions, we quote the following applicable remarks from tiie Edinburgh Review : " Few things seem more unaccountable, and indeed absurd, than that Hume should have taken part with high church and high monarchy men. The pei-se- cutions which he suffered in his youth from the presbyterians, niay, perhaps, have influenced his ecclesiastical partialities. But that he should have sided with the Tudors and the Stuarts against the people, seems quite inconsistent with all (he great traits of his character. His unrivaled sagacity must have looked \\itli contempt on the preposterous arguments by which the jus divinum was main- tained. His natural benevolence must have suggested the cruelty of subjecting the enjoyments of thousands to the caprice of one unfeeling individual : and his own practical independence in private life, might have taught him the value of those feelings which he has so mischievously derided. DIr Fox seems to have been struck with some surprise at this strange trait in the character of our philo- sopher. In a letter to Mr Laing he says, * He was an excellent man, and of great powers of mind ; but his partiality to kings and princes is intolerable. Nay, it is, in my opinion, quite ridiculous : and is more like the foolish admira- tion which women and children sometimes have for kings, than tlie opinion, right or wrong, of a philosoplior.' " It would be a vain (ask to enumerate the controversial attacks on Hume's 111. Q 122 HUxME. History of England. Dr Hurd in his Dialogues on tlie English Constitution stoutly combated his opinions. Miller brought -the force of his strongly thinking mind to a consideration of the subject at great length, but he assumed too much the aspect of a special pleader. Dr Birch and Dr Towers entered on minute examinations of particular portions of the naiTative, and the late major Cart^ Wright, with more fancy than reason, almost caricatured the opinions of those who considered that Hume had designedly painted the government of the Tudors in arbitrary colours, to relieve that of the Stuarts. Mr Laing appeared as the champion of the Scottish patriots, and Dr M'Crie as the vindicator of the pres- byterians ; and within these few past years, two elaborate works have fully examined the statements and i-epresentations of Hume, — the British Empire of Mr Brodie, and the extremely impartial Constitutional History of Hallam. In the interval betwixt the publication of the first and second volumes of the History, Hume produced the " Natural History of Religion." This production is one of those which Warburton delighted to honour. In a pamphlet which Hume attributed to Hurd, he thus politely notices it : " The few excepted out of the whole race of mankind are, ;ve see, our philosopher and his gang, with their pedlars' ware of matter and motion, who penetrate by their disquisitions into the secret structure of vegetable and animal bodies, to extract, like the naturalists in Gulliver, sunbeams out of cucumbers ; just as wise a project as this of raising religion out of the intrigues of matter and motion. We see what the man would be at, through all his disguises, and no doubt, he would be much mortified if we did not ; though the discovery we make, is only this, that, of all the slanders against revelation, this before us is the tritest, the dirtiest, and the most worn in the drudgery of free-thinking, not but it may pass with his friends, and they have my free leave to make their best of it. What I quote it for, is only to show the rancour of heart which possesses this unhappy man, and which could induce him to employ an insinuation against the Christian and the Jewish religions ; not only of no weight in itself, but of none, I will venture to say, even in his own opinion." ^^ Hume says, he " found by Warburton's railing" that his "books were beginning to be esteemed in good company;" and of the particular attention which the prelate bestowed on the sceptic, such specimens as the following are to be found in the correspondence of the former : *' I am strongly tempted too, to have a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the author of a little book, called Philosophical Essays : in one of which he argues against the hope of a God, and in another (very needlessly you will say,) against the possibility of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press, and yet be has a considex'able post under government. I have a great mind to do justice on his arguments against miracles, which I think might be done in few words. But does he deserve notice ? Is he known among you ? Pi-ay answer me these questions ; for if his own weight keeps him down, I should be sorry to contri- bute to his advancement to any place but the pillory."-" Of the very different manner in which he esteemed a calm, and a scurrilous critic, we have happily been able to obtain an instance, in a copy of a curious letter of Hume, «hich, although the envelope is unfortunately lost, and the whole is somewhat mutilated, we can perceive from the circumstances, to have been addressed to Dr John Stewart, author of an Essay on the Laws of Motion. It affords a singular instance of the calm and forgiving spirit of the philosopher : " I am so great a lover of peace, that I am resolved to drop this matter alto- gether, and not to insert a syllable in the preface, ^\hich can have a reference to your essay. The truth is, I could take no revenge but such a one as would have IS Warburton's works, vii. 851, 868. *■ Letters from a late Rev. Prelate, to one of his Friends, 1808, p. 11. HUME. 123 been a great deal too cruel, and much exceeding the offence ; for though most authors think, that a contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but slightly revenged by hurting the personal character and the honour of their antagonists, I am very far from being of that opinion. Besides, as I am as certain as I can be of any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you may perhaps imagine,) that your inserting such remarkable alterations in the printed copy proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not from any formed inten- tion of deceiving the society, I would not take advantage of such an incident, to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I esteem though I might have reason to complain of him. When I am abused by such a fellow as Warburton, wliom I neither know nor care for, I can laugh at him. But if Dr Stewart approaches any way towards the same style of writing, I own it vexes me ; because I con- clude that some unguarded circumstances of my conduct, though contrary to my intention had given occasion to it. As to your situation with regard to lord Kames, I am not so good a judge. I only know, that you had so much the better of the argument that you ought upon that account to have been more reserved in your expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in philosophical argument, both because (it is) unphilosophical, and because it cannot but be offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What then must we think with regard to so many insinuations of irreligion, to which lord Kames's paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the inquisitor is, in you, the effect of passion, and what a cool moment would easily correct. But when it predominates in the charac- ter, what ravages has it committed on reason, virtue, truth, sobriety, and every thing that is valuable among mankind ! " — We may at this period of his life con- sider Hume as having reached the age when the mind has entirely ceased to bend to circumstances, and cannot be made to alter its habits. Speaking of him in this advanced period of his life, an author signing himself G. N. and detailing- some anecdotes of Hume, with whom he says he Mas acquainted, states (in the Scots IMagazine), that " his great views of being singular, and a vanity to sbow liimself superior to most people, led him to advance many axioms that were dis- sonant to the opinions of others, and led him into sceptical doctrines, only to show how minute and puzzling they were to other folk ; in so far, that 1 have often seen him (in various companies, according as he saw some enthusiastic person there), combat either their religious or political principles; nay, after he liad struck them dumb, take up the argument on tlieir side, with equal good humour, wit, and jocoseness, all to show his pre-eminency." 'Ihe same person mentions his social feelings, and the natural disposition of his temper to ffow with the current of wliatever society he was in ; and that while he never gam- bled he had a natural liking to whist playing, and \vas so accomplished a player as to be the subject of a shameless proposal on the part of a needy man of rank, for bettering their nmtual fortunes, wliicii it need not be said was repelled. But the late lamented Henry M'Kenzie, who has attempted to embody tlie ••haracter of the sceptic in thii beautiful fiction of La Roche, has drawn, from his intimate knowledge of character, and his great acquaintance with the philoso- pher, a more pleasing picture. His words are, " The unfortunate nature of his opinions with regai-d to the theoretical principles of moral and religious truth, never influenced his regard for men who held very opposite sentiments on those subjects, uhich he never, like some vain shallow sceptics, introduced into socinl discourse ; on tlie contrary, when at any time the (conversation tended that way, he was desirous rather of avoiding any serious discussion on matters which lie wished to conffne to the graver and less dangerous consideration of cool philo- sophy, fie liad, it miglit be said, in the language which the Grecian historian applies to an illustrious Roman, two minds ; one wliich indulged in the nicla- 124 HUME. physical scepticism which his genius could invent, but which it could not always disentangle ; another, simple, natui-al, and playful, which made his conversation delightful to his friends, and even frequently conciliated men whose principles of belief his philosophical doubts, if they had not power to shake, had grieved and offended. During the latter period of his life I was frequently in his company amidst persons of genuine piety, and I never heard him venture a remark at which such men, or ladies — still more susceptible than men — could take offence. His good nature and benevolence prevented such an injury to his hearers ; it was unfortunate that he often forgot what injury some of his writings might do to his readers."-^ Hume was now a man of a very full habit, and somewhat given to indolence in all occupations but that of literature. An account of himself, in a letter to his relation Mrs Dysart may amuse from its calm pleasantry, and good humour : '* My compliments to his solioitorship. Unfortunately I have not a horse at present to carry my fat carcase, to pay its respects to his superior obesity. But if he finds travelling requisite either for his health or the captain's, we shall be glad to entertain him here as long as we can do it at another's expense, in hopes that we shall soon be able to do it at our own. Pray, tell the solicitor that I have been reading lately, in an old author called Strabo, that in some cities of ancient Gaul, there was a fixed legal standard established for corpulency, and that the senate kept a measui'e, beyond which, if any belly presumed to increase, the proprietor of that belly was obliged to pay a fine to the public, proportion- able to its rotundity. Ill would it fare with his worship and I (me), if such a law should pass our parliament, for I am afraid we are already got beyond the statute. I wonder, indeed, no harpy of the treasury has ever thought of this method of raising money. Taxes on luxury are always most approved of, and no one will say that the carrying about a portly belly is of any use or necessity, 'lis a mere superfluous ornament, and is a proof too, that its proprietor enjoys greater plenty than he puts to a good use ; and, therefore, 'tis fit to reduce iiim to a level with his fellow subjects, by taxes and impositions. As the lean people are the most active, unquiet, and ambitious, they every where govern the world, and may certainly oppress their antiigonists whenever they please. Heaven forbid that whig and tory should ever be abolished, for then the nation might be split into fat and lean, and our faction I am afraid would be in a piteous taking. The only comfort is, if they oppress us very much we should at last change sides with them. Besides, who knows if a tax were imposed on fatness, but some jealous divine might pretend that the church was in danger. I cannot but bless the memory of Julius C;esar, for the great esteem he expressed for fat men, and his aversion to lean ones. All the world allows that the emperor was the gx-eatest genius that ever was, and the greatest judge of mankind." In the year 1756, the philosophical calm of Hume appeared in danger of being disturbed by the fulminations of the church. The outcry against his doubting philosophy became loud, scepticism began to be looked on as synoni- mous with infidelity, and some of the fiercer spirits endeavoured to urge on the church to invade the sacred precincts of freedom of opinion. The discussion of the subject commenced before the committee of overtures on the 27th of May, and a long debate ensued, in which some were pleased to maintain, that Hume, not being a Christian, was not a fit person to be judged by the venerable court. For a more full narrative of those proceedings, we refer to the life of Henry Home of Karnes, who was subjected to the same attempt at persecution. In an analysis of the works of the two authors, published during the session of the assembly, and circulated among the members, the respectable author, with a '-' IM'Kenzie's Life of Home, p. SO. HU.ME. 125 laudable anxiety to fiiitl an enemy to the religion lie professed, laid down the following, as propositions which he would be enabled to prove were the avow«id opinions of Mr Hume : — " Ist, All distinction between virtue and vice is merely imaginary — 2nd, Justice has no foundation farther than it contributes to public advantage — 3d, Adultery is very lawful, but sometimes not expedient 4th, Keligion and its ministers are prejudicial to mankind, and will always be found either to run into the heights of superstition or enthusiasm — 5th, Christianity has no evidence of its being a divine revelation — 6th, Of all the modes of Chris- tianity, popery is the best, and the refomiation from thence was only the work of madmen and enthusiasts." The overture was rejected by the committee, and the indefatigable vindicators of religion brought the matter under a different shape before the presbytery of Edinburgh, but that body very properly decided on several grounds, among which, not the least applicable was, " to prevent their entering further into so abstruse and metaphysical a subject," that it " Avould be more for the purposes of edification to dismiss the process." In 1759, appeared Dr Robertson's History of Scotland, and the similarity of the subjects in which he and Hume were engaged, produced an interchange of information, and a lasting friendship, honourable to both these gi'eat men. Hume was singularly destitute of literary jealousy ; and of the unaffected welcome which he gave to a work treading on his own peculiar path, we could give many instances, did our limits permit. He never withheld a helping hand to any author who might be considered his rival, and, excepting in one instance, never peevishly mentioned a living litei'ary author in his works. The instance we allude to, is a remark on Mr Tytler's vindication of queen Mary, and referring tlie reader to a copy of it below," it is right to remark, that it seems more dictated by contempt of the arguments, than spleen towards the person of the author. Any account of the literary society in which Hume spent his hours of leisure and conviviality, would involve us in a complete literary history of Scotland during that period, unsuitable to a biographical dictionary. With all the emi- nent men of that illustrious period of Scottish literature, he was eminently acquainted ; as a philosopher, and as a man of dignified and respected intellect, he stood at the head of the list of great names ; but in the less calm employments in which literary men of all periods occupy themselves, he was somewhat shunned, as a person too lukewarm, indolent, and good-humoured, to support literary war- fare. An amusing specimen of his character in this respect, is mentioned by M'Kenzie in his life of Home. When two numbers of a periodical work, entitled " The Edinburvhen a vacancy occurring in the representation of the Scottish peerage, he was almost unanimously elected. From his talents as a speaker, his extensive information, and active business habits, he acquired great influence in the upper house, and was constantly re-chosen at every general election, during the long period of 34 years. He was appointed first lord of police in 1747, and keeper of tlie great seal of Scotland, in January, 17G4, the latter of which he held till his death. The estimation in which his lordship was held by his contemporaries may be judged of by the circumstance of his living on terms of the strictest intimacy with the celebrated lord Cobham, (who gave his bust a place in the 'I'emple of Worthies at Stow,) Sir AA'illiam Wyndham, lord Bolingbroke, the duchess of Marlborough, Mr Pope, and other eminent persons of that memorable era. The duchess appointed him one of her executors, and bequeathed him a leg.icy of £2,500 for his trouble, and as a proof of her esteem. I\Ir Pope like- wise appointed him one of liis executors, leaving him a large-paper edition of Thuanus, and a portrait of lord Bolingbroke, painted by Richardson, The poet likewise inmiortali/ed him, by introducing his name into the ^veil-known inscrip- tion in the Twickenham grotto : — " Then the bright fliiine was shot tlirough Marchmont's soul !" His lordship's library contained one of the most curious and valuable collections of books and manuscripts in (ireat Britain ; all of which he bequeathed at his death to his sole executor, the right honourable George Rose. His lordship was twice married ; first, in 1731, to Bliss Western of London, by whom ho had four children, a son (who died young), and three daughters; the youngest of whom was afterwards married to Walter Scott, Esq. of Harden. Fpon the death of his wife, in 1747, he next year married a Bliss Elizabeth H2 HUME. Crompton, whose father was a linen draper in C'heapside, by \\hoiii he had one son, Alexander, lord Folwarth, who died without issue, in the 31st year of liis age. The circumstances attending this second marriage were very peculiar, and his lordship's conduct on the occasion, seems altogether so much at variance with liis general character, as well as with one in his rank and circumstances in life, that we reckon them worthy of being recorded here ; — and in doing so, Ave think we cannot do better than adopt the account of them given by the celebrated David Hume, in a familiar epistle to the late Mr Oswald of Dunnikier, and pub- lished in the latter gentleman's correspondence. The letter is dated, London, January 29th, 1748 : — " Lord Marchmont has had the most extraordinary adventure in the world. About three weeks ago, he was at the play, when he espied in one of the boxes a fair virgin, whose looks, airs, and manners, had such a powerful and wonderful effect upon him, as was visible by every by-stander. His raptures were so undisguised, his looks so expressive of passion, his inquiries so earnest, that every person took notice of it. He soon was told that her name was Crompton, a linen draper's daughter, that had been bankrupt last year, and had not been able to pay above five shillings in the pound. The fair nymph herself was about sixteen or seventeen, and being supported by some relations, appeared in every public place, and had fatigued every eye but that of his lord- ship, which, being entirely employed in the severer studies, had never till that fatal moment opened upon her charms. Such and so powerful was their effect, as to be able to justify all the Pharamonds and Cyrusses in their utmost extrava- gancies. He wrote next morning to her father, desiring to visit his daughter on honourable terms : and in a few days she will be the countess of Marchmont. All this is certainly true. They say many small fevers prevent a gi'eat one. Heaven be praised that I have always liked the persons and company of the fair sex! for by that means I hope to escape such ridiculous passions. But could you ever suspect the ambitious, the severe, the bustling, the impetuous, the violent Marchmont, of becoming so tender and gentle a swain — an Arta- menes — an Oroondates ! " His lordship died at his seat, at Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, on the 10th of January, 1794, and leaving no heirs male, all the titles of the family became extinct ; but his estate descended to his three daughters. According to Sir George H. Rose, who, from his family connexion with the earl of Marchmont, had the best means of knowing, this nobleman ** was an accomplished and scientific horseman, and a theoretical and practical husbandman and gardener. He pursued his rides and visits to his farm and garden as long as his strength would suffice for the exertion ; and some hours of the forenoon, and frequently of the evening, were dedicated to his books. His most favourite studies appear to have been in the civil law, and in the laws of England and Scotland, in the records and history of the European nations, and in ancient history ; and the traces of them are very unequivocal. The fruits of his labours in extracts, observations, comparisons, and researches, all made in his own hand-Mriting, are not more to be admired than wondered at, as the result of the industry of one who was stimulated neither by poverty nor by eagerness for literary cele- brity. His Dutch education had given him method, which was the best possible auxiliary to an ardent and powerful mind, such as his Avas." In the publication Avhich Ave have entitled the Marchmont Papers, are many of earl Hugh, of Avhich the most important feature is a diary, Avhich he kept during three different periods of peculiar interest in the reign of George the Second. The first extends from the latter end of July, 1744, to the end of that year, and embraces the events Avhich led to the formation of Avhat Avas called the Broad Bottom Administration, when lord Carteret, Avho just then became earl HUNTER. lis of Granville, was compelled to retire by tlie Pelhains, the king consenting thereto very reluctantly, and when the dukes of Devonshire, Bedford, and Dorset, and the earls of Harrington and Chesterfield, came into office. Tlie second period begins in September, 1745, when news had just been received in London that the Pretender was near Edinburgh, and that it would probably be soon in his occupation. It closes in the Februrry following, with the extraordinary events of that month, the resignation of the Telham ministry, and its re-establishment after the earl of Bath's and the earl of Granville's interregnum of three days. The thii-d period commences in July, 1747, and terminates in March, 1748, soon after the earl of Chesterfield's resignation, and the duke of Bedford's appointment to succeed him as secretai'y of state. HUME, Patrick, is noticed by various writers as the name of an individual who adorned the literature of his country at the close of the seventeenth cen- tury. Who or what he was, is not known : it is only probable, from the regu- larity with which certain first names occur in genealogies in connexion with sur- names, that he belonged to the Pohvarth branch of the family of Home, or Hume, as in that branch there were six or seven successive barons bearing the name of Patrick. This learned man is only known to have written the notes connected with the sixth edition of IMilton's Paradise Lost, which Mas published in folio by Tonson in 1G95, and is one of the most elegant productions of the British press that have ever appeared. It has been a Jiiatter of just surprise to several writers of Scottish biography, that absolutely nothing should have been handed down respecting this person, seeing that his notes evince a high degree of taste, and most extensive erudition, and are in fact the model of almost all <:ommentaries subsequent to his time. " His notes," says an anonymous writer,' " are always curious ; his observations on some of the finer passages of the poet, show a mind deeply smit with an admiration for the sublime genius of their au- thor ; and there is often a masterly nervousness in his style, which is very re- markable for this age." But the ignorance of subsequent ages respecting the learned commentator is sufliciently accounted for by the way in which his name appears on the title-page, being simply in initials, with the affix (p;Ao7,-6<)5T>5c, and by the indifl'erence of the age to literary history. It would appear that the connnentary, learned and admirable as it is, speedily fell out of public notice, as in 1750, the Messrs Foulis of Glasgow published the first book of the Paradise Lost, with notes by Mr Callender of Craigforth, which, are sliown to be, to a great extent, borrowed from the work of Hume, without the most dis- tant hint of acknowledgment. HUNTER, (Dr) Henky, a divine highly distinguished in literature, was born at Culross, in the year 1741. His parents, though in humble life, gave him a good education, which was concluded by an attendance at the ur.iversity of Edinburgh. Here his talents and application attracted the notice of the profes- sors, and at the early age of seventeen he was appointed tutor to i\lr Alexander Hoswell, who subsequently became a judge of tlie court of session, under the designation of lord Balmouto. He afterwards accepted the same oflice in the family of the earl of Uundonald at Culross abbey, and thus had the honour of instructing tlie late venerable earl, so distinguished by his scientific inquiries and inventions. In 17fi4, having passed the necessary trials with unusual approba- tion, he was licensed as a minister of the gospel, and soon excited attention to his pulpit talents. So highly were these in public esteem, that, in 1766, he was ordained one of the ministers of South Leith, which has always been con- ' BlackAvood's Magazine, iv. 662, wlirre there is ascritsof extracts from Hume's Coni- mentary, in contrast with similar passages from that published by Mr Callender of (Jmig- forth. 144 HUNTER. sidered as one of the most respectable appointments in the Scottish church. He had here ingratiated himself in an uncommon degree with his congregation, when a visit to London, in 1769, opened up to his ambition a still wider field of usefulness. The sermons which he happened to deliver on this occasion in several of the Scottish meeting-houses, drew much attention, and the result was an invitation, which reached him soon after his return, to become minister of the chapel in Swallow Street. This he declined ; but in 1771, a call from the London Wall congi-egation tempted him away from his Scottish flock, who manifested the sincerest sorrow at his departure. This ti-anslation not only was an advancement in his profession, but it paved the way for a series of literary exertions, upon which his fame was ultimately to rest. Several single sermons first introduced him to the world as an author. These were on the ordination of O. Nicholson, M. A., 1775, 2 Cor. iv. 7, 8 ; On the study of the Sacred Scriptures, Acts xviii. 11, in the work called the Scottish Preacher, vol. iv. ; at the funeral of the Rev. George Turnbull, 1783 ; On the opening of a meeting- house at Walthanistow, in 1787, Rev. xxi. 3, 4; On the Revolution, 1788; The Believer's Joy, Acts viii. 39 ; also in the fourth volume of the Scottish Preacher. Tliese sermons, with some miscellaneous pieces, Avere collected and published, in two volumes, after the author's death. Dr Hunter first appeared as a general writer in 1783, when he published the first volumes of his " Sacred Biography, or the history of the Pati-iarchs and of Jesus Christ," which was ulti- mately extended to seven volumes, and has become a standard work, the seventh edition liaving appeared in 1814. Before this work was completed, the notice attracted by the system of Lavater throughout civilized Europe, tempted him to engage in an English version of the " Physiognomy" of that philosopher, whom he previously visited at his residence in Switzerland, in order to obtain from the conversation of the learned man himself, as perfect an idea as possible of his particular doctrines. It is said that Lavater at first displayed an unexpected coolness on the subject of Dr Hunter's visit, being afraid that an English translation might injure the sale of the French edition, in which he had a pecuniary interest. This, however, seems to have been got over; for Lavater eventually treated his English visitor in a manner highly agreeable. " As their prolessions were alike," says an anonymous writer, " so their sentiments, their feelings, and their opinions, are altogether alike. A complete acquaintance with the French language enabled Dr Hunter to enjoy Lavater's conversation freely ; and he ever afterwards talked with enthusiasm of the simplicity of manners, the unaffected piety, the unbounded benevolence, and the penetrating genius, of this valued friend. The bai'e mention of that barbarous cruelty which massacred the virtuous Lavater, Avas sufficient to make him shrink back with horror." — The first number of this work was published in 1789, and it was not completed till nine years after, when it ultimately formed five volumes, in quarto, bearing the title of " Essays on Physiognomy, designed to promote the know- ledge and love of mankind, by John Caspar Lavater." Dr Hunter's abilities as a translator were of the first order, and, in this instance, drew forth the entire approbation of the original author. The work Avas, moreover, embellished in a style, Avhich, at that time, might be considered as unrivaled. It contained above eight hundred engravings, executed by and under the direction of Mr Holloway, and such Avas altogether the elaboi-ate elegance of the publication, that it could not be sold to the public under thirty pounds per copy. We are only left to regret that so much talent, so much taste, and such a large sum of money as this price Avould indicate, should liave been spent upon an inquiry which the acute and precise sense of the immediately succeeding generation has pronounced to be in a great measure a delusion. HUNTER. 145 At the time of the French revolution, Dr Hunter republished a treatise by Robert Fleming, whose life, with an account of the work in question, has already been given in this Biographical Dictionary. The pamphlet contained some prophetical intimations, which Dr Hunter supposed to bear a reference to the events in the neighbouring kingdom. It is needless to remark the weakness which alone could dictate such a proceeding in this generally able and enlight- ened man. Dr Hunter also published a " Sei'mon preached, February 3, 17'J3, on the execution of Louis XVI." In 1795, he attempted a translation from the German, selecting for this pur- pose Euler's celebrated " Letters to a German princess." 'Ihis work met ivith the entire appi-obation of the public, and has proved a very useful addition to the stock of our native scientific literature. The first edition was in quarto, and a second, in octavo, appeared in 1802. The work has since been reprinted in a smaller size, with notes by Sir David Brewster. The merit of Dr Hunter as a translator ^vas now universally acknowledged, and work accordingly pressed upon him. While still engaged in his version of Lavater, he commenced, in 1796, the publishing of a translation of St Pien-e's Studies of Nature, which was completed in 1799, in five volumes octavo, afterwards republished in three. " His translation," says the anonymous writer above quoted, " of the beautiful and enthusiastic works of St Pierre, was universally read and admired ; here, if in any instance, the translator entered into the spirit of the author, for the glow of benevolence which gives life to every page of ' Les Etudes de la Nature' was entirely congenial to the feelings of Dr Hunter." Saurin's Sermons, and Son- nini's Travels to Upper and Lower Egypt, complete the list of Dr Hunter's In hours as a translator ; and it is but small praise to say, that few men have reached the same degree of excellence in that important branch of literature. During the progress of other laboui-s, Dr Hunter published more than one volume of original sermons, and a volume entitled " Lectmes on the Evidences of Christianity," being the completion of a plan begun by the Kev. John Fell. He also commenced the publication, in parts, of a popular " History of London and its Environs," which, however, he did not live to complete. In the year 1790, Dr Hunter was appointed secretary to the corresponding board of the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. He was likewise chaplain to the Scots corporation in Lon- don, and both these institutions wore much benefited by his zealous exertions in their behalf. It must be obvious from the frequent and involved succession of his literary producMons, that Dr Hunter spent a most industrious life, and Avas upon the whole the most busy as he approached that stage of existence wlien the generality of men begin to find ease not only agreeable but necessary. It is probable that this unceasing exertion, which no doubt was more occasioned by necessity than by choice, tended to break down his constitution, whi('h was fur- ther weakened in his latter years by the agitation and distress of mind conse- quent on the death of three beloved children. Having retired to Bristol wells for the recovery of his health, he died there, of inflammation in tlie lungs, Oc- tober 27, 1802, in the sixty-second year of his age. "IfDr Hunter," says his anonymous biographer,'^ " was conspicuous as an author, he was still more to be admired as a man. An unbounded flow of bene- volence, which made him enjoy and give enjoyment to every society, joined to a warmtlt of feeling, which made him take an interest in every occurrence, ren- dered hiiu the delight of all his acciuaintance. His social talents were of the highest order. An easy flow of convereation, never loud, never overbearing, and completely free from afleclation ; an inexhaustible fund of pleasant anec- 2 Obituary of Gentleman's Magazine, Ixxii, 1072. U6 HUNTER. dotes and occasional flashes of wit and humoui", made every company he joined pleased with him and with themselves. He was particularly happy in adapting his conversation to those he conversed with ; and while to a lady his discom-se appeai'ed that of a polished gentleman, the scholar was surprised by his apt quotations from the classics, and the ease with which he turned to any subject that was brought before him. * * His private charities were as numerous as the objects of compassion which occurred to him ; nor should his unbounded and cheerful hospitality be forgot among his other virtues." [He is said to have caiTied this virtue beyond the bounds which a regard to prudence and economy should have prescribed.] " The crowded attendance and the universal regret of his congregation are the best proofs of the effect of his pulpit eloquence. His enlightened and liberal views of religion made his meeting-house the resort of tlie leading Scotsmen in London ; and it was here that the natives of the southern part of the island had an opportunity of observing a specimen of that church which produced a Robertson and a Blair. * * Dr Hunter was of a spare habit of body, and remarkably active ; and his usual cheerfulness and flow of good humour continued till within a few weeks of his death." He left a family, consisting of a wife, two sons, and a daughter. HUNTER, William and John, two eminent physicians, fall to be noticed here under one head, in order that we may, without violating alphabetical arrange- ment, give William that priority to which his seniority and precedence in public life render necessary. William Hunter was born. May 23, 1718, at Kilbride in the county of Lanark. His great-grandfather, by his father's side, was a younger son of Hunter of Hunterston. His father and mother lived on a small estate in the above county, called Calderwood, which had been some time in the possession of their family. They had ten children, of whom the subject of our present memoir was the seventh, while John was the tenth. One of his sisters man-ied tile reverend James Baillie, professor of divinity in the university of Glasgow, and became the mother of Matthew Baillie, the late celebrated physician, whose labours in morbid anatomy have been of such essential service in promoting the study of pathology. William Hunter Avas sent to the college of Glasgow at the age of fourteen, where he pursued his studies with diligence, and obtained the esteem of the professors and his fellow students. He was at this time designed for the church ; — but hesitated, from conscientious motives to subscribe all the articles of its faith. There is perhaps no position so painful as that of a man whose mind is overshadowed by doubts on doctrinal points of religion, having firmness in himself to investigate narrowly the foundation of the principles he should embrace, and rectitude enough to acknowledge with candour the difficul- ties by which he is embarrassed. Such was the state of mind of William Hunter when he became acquainted with the eminent Dr Cullen, who was then established in practice at Hamilton. After much deliberation, under his persuasion, he determined to relinquish his theological studies, and devote himself exclu- sively to the profession of medicine. Accordingly, having obtained the consent of his father, in the year 1737, he went to reside with Dr Cullen ; in whose family he lived nearly three years ; a period which afterwards, when he was engaged in the anxieties and turmoil that are ever attendant on the life of a medical man, he looked back upon with peculiar pleasure. It was the oasis on which, in after years, his memory loved to dwell. Between these two gifted individuals a partnership was now formed, and it was agreed that William Hunter should take charge of the surgical, and Dr Cullen of the medical cases that occurred in their practice. To carry their mutual wishes more efficiently into operation, it was an-anged that William Hunter should proceed to Ediii' HUNTER. 14.7 burgh, and then to London, for the purpose of pui-suing his medical studies in each of these cities, after which, that he should return to settle at Hamilton. In November, 1740, William Hunter went to Edinburgh, where he remained until the following spring, attending the lectures of the medical professors there, among whom he had the advantage of attending Dr Alexander Monro, who was one of the most talented and able professors, who, perhaps, ever adorned that university. In the summer of 1741, he proceeded to London, and resided with Mr, afterwards Dr Smellie, then an apothecary in Pall Mall. He took with him a letter of introduction from Mr Foulis, the printer at Glasgow, to Dr James Douglas. At first, Mr Hunter commenced the study of anatomy under the tuition of Dr Frank Nicholls, who was the most eminent teacher of anatomy then in London, and who had formerly professed the science at Oxford. It appears that Dr Douglas had been under some obligation to Mr Foulis, who had collected for him several editions of Horace, and he naturally, therefore, paid attention to young Hunter, whom he at once recognized to be an acute and talented observer. Dr Douglas was at that time intent on a great anatomical work on the bones, which he did not live to complete, and was looking out for a young man of industry and ability whom he might employ as his dissector. He soon perceived that his new acquaintance would be an eligible assistant to him, and after some preliminary conversation invited him into his family, for the double pui-pose of assisting him with his dissections, and directing the education of his son. The pecuniary resources of young Hunter were at this time very slender, and the situation was to him therefore highly advantageous ; but it was with difficulty that he could obtain the consent of his father for him to accept it, who being now old and infirm, awaited with impatience his return to Scot- land. Ultimately, however, he was prevailed on to acquiesce in the wishes of his son, which he did with reluctance ; he did not, however, long survive, as he died on the 30th of the October following, aged seventy-eight. Mr Hunter's pre- vious an-angements with Dr Cullen formed no obstacle to his new views ; for he iiad no sooner explained liis position, than Dr Cullen, anxious for his advancement, readily canceled the articles of agreement, and left his friend to pursue the path which promised to lead him to fame and to fortune. At liberty now to take advantage of all the means of instruction by wliich he was surrounded, lie pursued his studies with assiduity. By the friendly assistance of Dr Douglas he was enabled to enter himself as a surgeon's pupil at St George's hospital, under Mr James Wilkie, and as dissecting pupil under Mr Frank Nicholls. He also attended a course of experimental philosophy, which was delivered by Desauguliers. He soon became very expert as a dissector, insomuch that Dr Douglas went to the expense of having several of his preparations engraved. But he did not enjoy his liberal patronage and aid long, for many months had not elapsed when his kind benefactor died, an event which happened April 1, 1742, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. Dr Douglas left a widow and two children ; — but his death made no alteration in respect to ]\lr Hunter, who continued as before to reside in his family, and perform the same duties which he had previously done. In the year 1743, the first production from the pen of Mr Hunter was com- municated to the Royal Society. It was an " Essay on the Structure and Diseases of Articulating Cartilages," a subject which had not been at tliat time sufficiently investigated, and on which his observations threw considerable lighl. His favourite scheme was now to commence as a lecturer on anatomy ; — but he did not rashly enter on this undertaking, but passed some years more in acquir- ing the necessary knowledge, and in making the numerous preparations which are necessary to exhibit in a complete course of anatomy. There is, perhaps. 148 HUNTER. no branch of medical science Avhich demands more patient and assiduous toil than this, more especially at that period, when there Mere so few aids to anatomical knowledge. He communicated his project to Dr MchoUs, who had declined lecturing, in favour of Dr Lawrence, who gave him little encour- agement, and he retired, as many others similarly situated have done, to meditate on his own secret hopes, and to await a fit opportunity for commencing his designs. It thus happens in the lives of many young men, that wiser heads caution them against embarking in schemes they have long cherished, and in which, after all, they are destined to he successful. The ardour and persever- ance of youth often accomplish undertakings which appear wild and romantic to the sterner, and colder judgment of the aged. To William Hunter the wished-for opportunity soon occurred, Avhereby be was enabled to put his plans to the test of experience. A society of navy surgeons at that time existed, Avhich occupied rooms in Covent Gferden, and to this society I\Ir Samuel bharpe had been engaged as a lecturer on the operations of surgery. This course Mr Sharpe continued to repeat until finding that it interfered too much with his other engagements ; he resigned in favour of William Hunter, who gave his first anatomical course in the winter of 1746. It is said that when he first began to speak in public he experienced much solicitude ; but the applause he met with inspired him with that confidence which is so essential an element of all good oratory. Indeed, he gradually became so fond of teaching, that some few years before his death, he acknowledged that he was never happier than when engaged in lecturing. The profits of the first two courses were considerable ; but having with much generosity conti'ibuted to supply the pecuniary wants of his friends, he found himself so reduced on the return of the next season, that he was obliged to postpone his lectures, because he had not money to defray the necessary expenses of advertising. An anecdote is mentioned by his biographer Symmons, very characteristic of the early difficulties which are experienced by many men of genius. Mr Watson, one of his earliest pupils, accompanied him home after his next introductory lecture. He had just received seventy guineas for admission fees, which he carried in a bag under his cloak, and observed to his friend, " that it was a larger sum than he had ever been master of before." His previous experience now taught him more circumspection ; — he became more cautious of lending money, and by strict economy amassed that great fortune, which he afterwards so liberally devoted to the interests of science. His success as a lecturer before the society of navy surgeons was so decided, that its members requested him to extend his course to anatomy, and gave him the free use of their I'oom for his lectures. This compliment he could not fail to have duly appreciated, and it may be regarded as tlie precursory sign of that brilliant career which he was soon afterwards destined to pursue. In the year 1747, he was admitted a member of the Incorporation of Sur- geons, and after the close of his lectures in the spring of the following year, he set out with his pupil, Mr James Douglas, on a tour through Holland and Paris. At Leyden, he visited the illustrious Albinus, whose admirable injections inspired him with the zeal to excel in this useful department of anatomy. Having made this tour, lie retui-ned to prepare his winter course of lectures, which he com- menced at the usual time. Mr Hunter at this time practised surgery as well as midwifery ; but the former branch of the profession he always disliked. His patron, Dr Douglas, had acquired considerable reputation as an accoucheur, and this probably in- duced him to direct his views to this line of practice. Besides this, an ad- ditional inducement presented itself, in the circumstance of his being elected one of the surgeon accoucheurs to the Middlesex hospital, and afterwards to the HUNTER. 149 British Lying-in Hospital. The introduction of male practitioners in this de- partment of the profession, according to Astruc, took place on the confine- ment of madanie la Valliere in 1663. She was anxious for concealment, and called in Julian Clement, an eminent surgeon, who was secretly conducted into the house where she lay, covering her face with a hood, and where the king is said to hare been hidden behind the curtains. He attended her in her subsequent accouchmens, and his success soon brought the class of male practi- tioners into fashion. Nor was this a matter of minor import, for hereby the mortality among lying-in women has been materially reduced. Mowbray is said to have been the first lecturer on obstetrics in London, and he delivered his course of lectures in the year 1725. To him succeeded the Chamberlains, after whom, Smellie gave a new air of importance and dignity to the science. It is said that the manners of Smellie were by no means prepossessing — indeed they are described to have been unpleasing and rough ; therefore, although a man of superior talent^ he necessarily found a viifiiculty in making his way among the refined and the more polished circles of society. Herein, Hunter had a decided advantage, for while he was recognized to be a man of superior abilities ; his manners and address were extremely conciliating and engaging. The most lucrative part of the practice of midwifery was at this time divided be- tween Sir Kichard Manningham and Dr Sandys ; — the former of whom died, and the latter retired into the country just after Mr Hunter became known as an accoucheur. The field was now in a great measure left open to him, and in proportion as his reputation increased, he became more extensively consulted. His predecessor Dr Sandys, liad been formerly professor of anatomy at Cambridge, where he had formed a valuable collection of preparations, which on his death having fal- len into the hands of Dr Bloomfield, was now purchased by Mr Hunter for the sum of £200. There can be no doubt that the celebrity of Mr Hunter as an anatomist contributed to increase his practice as an accoucheur, as it was reasonably expected that his minute knowledge of anatomy would give him a correspondingly great conmiand in difficult and dangerous cases. Acting now principally as an accoucheur, he appears to have entirely relinquished the sur- gical department of his profession ; and desirous of practising as a physician, obtained in 1750, the degree of doctor of medicine from the university of Glasgow. The degree of doctor of medicine at that and other universities of Scotland, was at this period granted, on the candidate's paying a certain sum of money and presenting a certifn^ite from other doctors of medicine of his being qualified to practise the healing art — but so much was the facility of ob- taining these degrees abused that this method of granting them has been very properly abolished. Shortly after obtaining his diploma, Dr Hunter left the family of 31r Douglas, and went to reside in Jermyn Street, Soho Square. The following summer he revisited his native country, for which, amidst the professional prosperity of a town life, he continued to entertain a cordial af- fection. He found on his an-ival that his mother was still living at Long Cal- derwood, which was now become his own property, in consequence of the death of his brother James, who died in the 28th year of his age. It is worthy of notice, that this young man had been a writer to the signet in Edinburgh ; but disliking the profession of the law, he went to London, with the intention of studying anatomy under his brother William — so that it would almost appear, that in the family of the Hunters there was an hereditary love for medical science. Ill health, however, which bows down the intellectual power of the strongest of mankind, preyed upon his constitution ; so that he cculd not r^irry his plans into execution, and he therefore retui-ncd to his birth place, where 150 HUNTER. he died. At this period, Dr CuUen was progressing to that fame which he subsequently attained ; and was residing at Glasgow, Avhere Dr Hunter again met him, to take a retrospect over the eventful changes which had signalized the progress of their separate lives. Such a meeting could not, under the peculiar circumstances, fail to be interesting to both ; for there scarcely can be any gratification superior to that of meeting in after life, the friend ot early youth, pursuing successfully the career which at one time was commenced together, and who is still opening up the paths to new discoveries, in which both sympathize and delight, while, at the same time, the same sentiments of personal friendship remain undiminished in all their original strength and sincerity. On the return of Dr Hunter to London, he continued corresponding with Dr CuUen on a variety of interesting scientific subjects, and many of the letters have been recently published by Dr Thomson, in his life of this eminent physi- cian, a work which should be familiar to all who take any interest in the history of medical science. On the return of Dr Hunter to London, on the resignation of Dr Layard, who had officiated as one of the physicians to the British Lying-in Hospital, we find the governors of that institution voting their " thanks to Dr Hunter for the ser- vices he had done the hospital, and for his continuance in it as one of the physi- cians." Accoi'dingly he was established in this office without the usual form of an election. He was admitted in the following year licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians, and was soon after elected a member of the Medical Society. His history of an aneurism of the aorta appears in the first volume of their " Ob- servations and Enquiries," published in 1757. In 1762, we find him in the " Medical Commentaries," supporting his claim of priority in making numerous anatomical discoveries over that of Dr Monro Secundus, at that time professor of anatomy in the university of Edinburgh. It is not easy to adjust the claims of contemporary discoverers in numerous branches of science ; and though, on this occasion, a wordy war of considerable length was waged concerning the real au- thor of the great doctrine of the absorbent action of the lymphatic system, yet the disputants seem to have left the field, each dissatisfied with the conduct of his antagonist, and each equally confident of being entitled to the honour of being regarded as the real discoverer. It is not worih while to rake up the ashes of any such controversy ; but it is no more than justice to assert, that Dr Hunter vindicated his claims in a manly and honourable tone, at the same time acknow- ledging that " the subject was an unpleasant one, and he was therefore seldom in the humour to take it up." In 1762, when the queen became pi-egnant, Dr William Hunter was consult- ed, and two years afterwards had the honour to be appointed physician extra- ordinary to her majesty. We may now regard him as having attained the highest rank in his profession ; and avocations necessarily increasing very consi- derably, he found himself under the necessity of taking an assistant, to relieve him from the fatigues to which he was now subjected. Accordingly he selected Mr Hewson, an industrious and accomplished young man, to be his assistant, and afterwards took him into partnership with him in his lectures. This connexion subsisted until the year 1770, when, in consequence of some misunderstanding, it was dissolved, and Cruickshank succeeded to the same situation. In the year 1767, Dr William Hunter became a fellow of the Royal Society, to which the fol- lowing year he communicated his observations on the bones, commonly supposed to be elephants' bones, which were found near the river Ohio in America. At this period the attention of men of science had been directed to the large bones, tusks^ and teeth, which had been found on the banks of tlie above river, and the HUNTEH. 151 Frencli Academicians came to the conclusion that they were, in all probability, the bones of elephants. From the different character of the jaw-bone, and other anatomical signs, Dr William Hunter, however, c^me to the conclusion that they did not belong to the elephant, but to an aniiiial incognitum, probably the same as the mammoth of Siberia.^ Nor was this the only subject of natural history on which Dr Hunter exercised his ingenuity, for in a subsequent volume of the transactions, we find him offering his remarks on some bones found in the rock of Gibraltar, which he proves to have belonged to some quadruped. Further, we find an account published by him of the Nylghau, an Indian animal not be- fore described. Thus, amidst the anxious duties of that department of the pro- fession in which he excelled, we find his active mind leading him into investiga- tions on subjects of natural history, which are eminently interesting to all who delight in examining into the mysteries, and beauties, and past history of the surrounding world. In the year 1768, Dr William Hunter became fellow of the society of arts, and the same year at the institution of an academy of arts, he was appointed by his majesty professor of anatomy. His talents were now directed into a new spliere of action ; in which he engaged with unabated ardour and zeal. He studied the adaptation of the expression of anatomy to sculpture and paint- ing, and his observations are said to have been characterized by much ori- ginality and just critical acumen. In January, 1781, he was unanimously elected successor to Dr John Fother- gill, as president of the Royal College of Physicians of London, the interests of which institution he zealously promoted. In 1780, the Koyal Medical Society of Paris elected him one of their foreign associates, and in 1782 he received a similar mark of distinction from the Koyal Academy of Sciences in that city. Thus, in tracing the life of this eminent physician, we find honour upon honour conferred upon him, in acknowledgment of the essential services which he ren- dered to the cause of science. But his chef d''ceuvre yet remains to be noticed ; it was consummated in the invaluable " Anatomy of the Human Gravid Uterus," one of the most splendid medical works of the age in which he lived. It was commenced in 1751, but not completed until 1775, owing to the author's de- sire to render it as complete as possible. It contains a series of tliirty-four folio l)lates, from superior drawings of subjects and preparations, executed by the first artists, exhibiting all the principal changes which occur during the nine months of pregnancy. Here we find the first representation that was given of the retroverted uterus, and the membrana decidua reflexa discovered by himself. He did not live however to complete the anatomical description of the figures, which his nephew the late lamented Dr IJailiie did in 1794.* He dedicated this valuable work to the king ; and it needs only to be added, in testimony of merit, that notwithstanding the mar(;h of medical knowledge, it has not been superseded by any rival author. It remains now, and will go down to posterity, as a standard work complete in its designs, and admirable in its execution. But this was not the only service which Dr William Hunter rendered to the profes- sion ; it remains for us yet to record the circumstances under which he founded a museum wliich has justly called forth the admiration of every medical man by whom it has been visited. When Dr William Hunter began to reap tlie fruits of his professional skill and exertions, he determined on laying aside a fund from which he would derive support, if overtaken by the calamities of sickness, or the infirmities of age. This he very shortly accomplished ; and it is said, tliat on one occasion he stated that having borrowed from this fund a sum to de- ^ Pliilosophical Transactions, vol. 58. * Anatomkiil Descnptioii of the Gravid Uterus and its contents, I79i 152 HUNTER. fray some expenses of his museum, he felt very much dissatisfied and uneasy un- til it was replaced. His competency having been obtained, and his wealth con- tinuing to accumulate, he formed a laudable design of founding a school of medicine, and for this purpose addressed a memorial to Mr Grenville, then minister, in which he requested the grant of a piece of ground in the Mews for the site of an anatomical theatre. He undertook to expend £7000 on the building, and to endow a professorship of anatomy in perpetuity ; but the scheme did not meet the reception it deserved, and fell to the ground. It is said that the earl of Shelburne, afterwards in conversation with the learned doctor, ex- pressed his approbation of the design, and desired his name to be put down as a subscriber for ^1000. But Dr Hunter had now it would appear de- termined on other an-angements, having purcliased a spot of ground in Great AVindmill Street, which he determined to appropriate to the proposed use. He there built accordingly a house and anatomical theatre, and removed from Jer- niyn Street to these premises in 1770. Medical men engaged in active practice, who have a taste for the study of morbid anatomy, have little difficulty in ob- taining specimens ; and by his own exertions and those of his pupils, many of whom engaged zealously in the cause, he soon succeeded in bringing together a vast number of morbid preparations, to augment the number of which he pur- chased numerous collections that were at various times exposed to sale in London. The taste for collecting, which all acquire who commence founding a museum, " increased by what it fed on," and he now, in addition to the anatomical spe- cimens, sought to accumulate fossils, curious books, coins — in short, whatever might interest either the man of letters, the physician, the naturalist, or the antiquary. We are informed that in respect to books he became possessed of " the most magnificent tieasure of Greek and Latin books that has been ac- cumulated since the days of Mead ;" — furthermore, Mr Combe, a learned friend of the doctor's, published a description of part of the coins in the collection, un- der the following title : — " Nummorum Veterum Populorum et Urbium qui in Museo Gulielmi Hunter asservantur, descriptio, figuris illustrata. In the pre- face to this volume, which is dedicated by Dr William Hunter to her mnjesty, some account is given of the progress of the collection, which had been accumulat- ing since 1770, at an expense of upwards of ^£20,000. In 1781, a valuable addition to it was received, consisting of shells, corals, and other curious subjects of natui'al histoi-y, which had been collected by the late Dr Fothergiil, who gave directions by his will that his collection should be appraised after his death, and that Dr William Hunter should have the refusal of it at £500. This was ac- cordingly done, and Dr Hunter purchased it eventually for £1200. To complete the history of this museum, we may here add, that on the death of Dr William Hunter, he bequeathed it, under the direction of trustees, for the use of his nephew Dr Matthew Baillie, and in case of his death to Mr Cruickshank, for the term of thirty years, at the expiration of which it Avas to be transmitted to the university of Glasgow. The sum of £8000 was further- more left as a fund for the support and augmentation of the collection, and each of the trustees was left £20 per annum for the term of thirty years — that is, during the period that they would be executing the purposes of the will Before the ex- piration of the period assigned, Dr Baillie removed the museum to Glasgow, where it at present is visited by all who take an interest in medical or general science. We have followed Dr William Hunter through the chief and most re- markable events by which his life was characterized, and now pausing to contemplate his having arrived at the summit of his ambition, — honoured by the esteem of his sovereign, complimented by foreign academies, and con- sulted by persons of all ranks — with an independence of wealth which left HUNTER. i-'>3 Iiini no desires for further accuiinulation of riches — we must acknowledge tliat the cup of human enjoyment, wliile it mantles to the brim, must still contain some bitter drop — that there is in this world no happiness without alloy. Ill health now preyed, with all its cankering evils, upon his constitution, and he meditated, indeed seriously made up his mind, to retire from the scenes of his former activity to his native country, where he might look back upon the vista of his past life and die in peace. With this view he requested his friends Dr Cullen and Dr Baillie to look out for a pleasant estate for him, whicli they did, and fixed on a spot in Annandale, which they recom- mended him to purciiase. The bargain was agreed on, at least so it was con- cluded, but when the title deeds were submitted to examination they were found to be defective — and accordingly the whole project fell to the ground, for although harassed by ill health, Dr Hunter found that the expenses to support the museum were so enormous, that he preferred still remaining in his practice. He was at this time, dreadfully attticted with gout, whi<.'h at one time affected his limbs, at another his stomach, but seldom remained in one part many hours. Yet, notwithstanding this, his ardour and activity remained un- abated ; — but at length he could no longer baffle the destroying power whicii preyed upon his being. The attacks became more frequent, and on Saturday, 31arch 15, 1783, after having for several days experienced a return of wander- ing gout, he complained of great headache and nausea, in which state he retired to bed, and felt for many days more pain than usual, both in his stomach and limbs. On the Thursday following, he found himself so much recovered, that he determined to give the introductory lecture to the operations of surgery, and it was to no purpose that his friends urged on him the impropriety of the attempt. Ac<-,ordingly he delivered the lecture, but towards the conclusion, his strength became so much exhausted that he fainted, and was obliged to be carried by his servants out of the lecture room. We now approach the death-bed scene of this eminent man, and surely there can be no spectacle of deeper or more solemn interest than that presented by the dissolution of a man, who adorned by intel- lectual energy and power, the path which it was in this life liis destiny to tread. 'Ihe night after the delivery of the above lecture, and the following day, his symptoms became aggi-avated, and on Saturday morning he informed his medical adviser, I\Ir Con>be, that he had during the night had a paralytic stroke. As neither his speech nor his pulse were affected, and as he was able to raise him- self in bed, fllr Combe was in hopes that his patieilt was mistiken ; but the symptoms that supervened indicated that the nerves which arises in the lumbar region had become paralyzed ; for the organs to which they are distributed, lost the power of performing their functions. Accordingly he lingered with the symptoms, which in all similar cases exist, until Sunday the 30th March, when he expii-ed. During his last moments he maintained very great fortitude and calmness, and it is reported that shortly before his death, he said, turning round to Mr Combe, " if I had strength enough to hold a pen I would write liow easy and pleasant a thing it is to die." Such a sentiment as this, breathed by one under the innnediate dominion of death, strikes us with peculiar wonder and awe, for it is seldom in such an hour that sud'ering humanity can command such stoical complacency. During the latter part of his illness, his brother John — with whom he had previously been on unfriendly terms — requested permission to attend him, and felt severely the parting scene. His remains were interred on the 5th April, in the rectors vault of St James's church, Westminster. The lives of all eminent men may be viewed in a double relation, — they may be contemplated simply with a reference to their professional and public career — or they may l)e viewed in connexion with the character they have 2 HUNTER. a paper on the gillaroo trout, commonly called in Ireland the gizzard trout. In 1775, several animals of the species called the gymnotus electricus of Suri- nam, were brought alive into this country, and by the curious phenomena they exhibited the attention of the scientific world was greatly excited. After making numerous experimentson theliving animals, Mr Walsh purchased those which died, and gave his friend Mr Hunter an opportunity of examining them. This he readily accepted, and drew up an account of their electrical organs, which he published in the Philosophical Transactions. In the same volume of that valuable work will be found his paper containing experiments respecting the powers of animals and vegetables in producing heat. Thus, in the paths of natural history did he find a recreation from the moi'e serious, and often irksome duties of his profes- sion ; — and by his skilful dissections, and acute observations, enriched our knowledge in this interesting and fascinating department of science. While thus engaged, Mr Hunter found a great difficulty in showing to advantage the natural appearances of many parts of animals which he wished to be preserved. In some instances the minute vessels could not be seen when the preparation was immersed in spirits ; in others, the natural colour of the parts preserved, and even the character of the surface, faded and underwent a change after being- some time immersed in this liquid, — a circumstance which, to this day, diminishes very much the value of almost all the morbid preparations which are preserved in private and public musea. The only method, therefore, of accom- plishing the object he had in view, was to have them carefully and correctly drawn at the time of the dissection. The expense of engaging draftsmen, the difficulty of procuring them, and above all their ignorance of the subject to be delineated, were considerable objections to their employment. Accordingly, he engaged a young and talented artist named Bell, to live with him for ten years, during which period it was agreed tliat he should be employed both as a drafts- man and in making anatomical preparations. This young man soon imbibed the spirit of his master ; he worked assiduously with his knife, his forceps, and his pencil ; he engaged himself during part of his time in copying out Mr Hunter's lectures, and in less than ten years became a skilful anatomist and surgeon. By his labours, Mr Hunter's collection became enriched with many very accurate and spirited drawings ; and a variety of curious and delicate anatomical prepara- tions. This skilful artist, by the interest of his friend Sir Joseph Bankes, obtained the appointment of assistant surgeon in the honourable East India Company for the settlement of Bencoolen in Sumatra, whither he set out with the view both of improving his fortune, and collecting specimens of natui-al history. He was in both successful beyond his most sanguine expectations. He sent home some very rare specimens of animals and corals, and two papers since published in the Philosophical Transactions, — one giving a description of the double horned rhinoceros, and the other of an uncommonly formed fish. Un- fortunately for the cause of science, he died of fever in 1792, being one of the many who have been summoned from this world, amidst early promises of future excellence and success. In January, 1776, Mr Hunter was appointed surgeon extraordinary to his majesty, — an honour which contributed still farther to advance his professional interests. About this time the attention of the public was much directed to the efforts of the Humane Society. Dr Cogan was the first who introduced the sub- ject from Holland ; and after him, Dr Hawes did not suffer it to rest until it experienced the royal patronage. Here again we find Mr Hunter zealously en- gaged in endeavouring to ascertain the best mode of restoring apparently drowned persons, the consequence of which was the production of a paper which he read to the Royal Society, entitled " Proposals for the Recovery of Persons apparently HUNTER. 163 Drowned. " The able author of this paper draws the distinction between the mere suspension of the functions by which life is supported, and absolute death, which he illusti-ates by reference to various animals, in whom, under certain conditions, the actions of life are temporarily suspended. It further contains a description of the signs of life and death, which are of vast importance ; indeed, notwith- standing- the progress that has since been made, both in Germany and Britain, in medical jurisprudence, this paper contains information which has by no means been superseded. In the autumn of this year, Mr Hunter was taken extremely ill, and the nature of his complaints induced both his friends and himself to apprehend that his life was in imminent danger. However, the anticipated calamity was averted ; he rallied, and was restored to his friends and the public, to whom his subse- quent services were of such vast importance. When on his sick bed, he reflected on his own worldly affairs, such as he was about to leave them; — he perceived that all his fortune had been expended in his pursuits ; that his family had no provision excepting what might arise from the sale of his collection ; and he naturally, on this account, suti'ered much solicitude and anxiety. No sooner did he leave his sick chamber, than he commenced arranging his collection, so that it might, in whatever event, conmiand its value, and with this view he began to make a catalogue of the collection ; but the delicacy of his health obliged him to desist from his labours, and persuaded by his friends and relatives, he retired for a time to Bath. During his absence, Mr Everard Home was employed to draw out descriptions of the preparations, leaving blanks for those with which he Avas unacquainted. His complaints were considerably ameliorated by his residence at Bath ; and though he returned to town before he was quite convales- cent, he continued to amend, and was soon recovered. In 1778, he published the second part of his Treatise on the Teeth, and also, in the Philosophical Transactions, a paper on the heat of animals and vegetables. " I had now," says Sir Everard Home, " lived six years with Mr Hunter and completed my education : his expenses had always exceeded liis income. I had therefore no emolument to expect from remaining in his house, which made it necessary for me to take up some line for my own support, and admiral Kep- pel's action with the French fleet was the means of procuring me a very eligible situation." Thus Mr Hunter was now deprived of the valuable assistance of his former pupil. And here we may pause to observe, both from the reflections which he made during his late illness, and the statement of Sir E. Home, that his expendi- ture had always exceeded his income, how slow are the emoluments of men whose scientific labours are nevertheless an advantage and honour to their country. Mr Hunter had now arrived at the age of fifty years, thirty of which had been devoted to his profession ; he had been eleven years mem- ber of the Royal Socnety, and nine years an hospital surgeon ; — he was respected and esteemed by the most accomplislied men of science, and Ins (claims to honourable distinction recognized by the nobility and by royalty itself; but still his pecuniary circumstances were at so low an ebb, that, had he died during his late illness, his wife and children would have been left comparatively destitute. His expenses do not appear to have been great; his family had increased, but only two survived, and these were still of an age to be little expensive ; his own personal expenses were not considerable ; and yet five yeai-s after this period (says one of his biographers), wlien he purchased a lease- hold in Leicester Square, he assured us that he was under the necessity of mort- gaging before he could pay for it, and for some time afterwards he used to regret that all he could collect in fees " went to carpentei-s and bricklayers ; Ifi4. HUNTER. whilst tlie sum expended was scarcely sufficient to furnish the library of a literary character." But the calamities and poverty of men of genius are so proverbial, that the hand of humanity willingly draws a veil over their sufferings ; and yet there is something higher than riches to be obtained in this world, and amidst all the difficulties he has to encounter, happy is he who can command the power of contributing even in the slightest degree to the well-being and happi- ness of the human race. It is this high hope, this internal moral conviction, which always has, and ever will support genius along the difficult and thorny track which it is ever its destiny to tread.' In 1780, Mr Hunter laid before the Koyal Society an account of a woman who had the small pox during pregnancy, and in whom the disease seems to have been comnmnicated to the foetus. The following year he was elected fellow of the Royal Society of Sciences and Belles Lettres at Gottenburg. During this period, he read before the Royal Society iiiany valuable com- munications ; among which we may notice, a paper on the Organ of Hearing in Fish, and six Croonian lectures on Muscular Motion. In these lectures he collected all the observations that had been made on the muscles, respecting their powers and effects, and the stimuli by which they are excited ; and to these he added comparative observations concerning the moving powers of jjlants ; but these lectures were not published in the Philosophical Transactions, as they were not considered by the author to be sufficiently complete disser- tations. Sir Everard Home informs us, that in the year 1783, Mr Hunter was chosen into the Royal Society of Medicine and Royal Academy of Surgery in Paris. In this year, continues the same writer, the lease of his house in Jermyn Street expired, and his collection being now too large to be contained in his dwelling house, he purchased the lease of a large house on the east side of Leicester Square, and the whole lot of ground extending to Castle Street, in which thei'e was another house. In the middle space between the two houses he erected a building for his collection. Upon this building he expended above three thou- sand pounds, and, unfortunately for his family, the lease did not extend beyond twenty-four years. *****" During the execution of this exten- sive plan I returned to England from Jamaica, where, at the close of the war, I had been appointed staff surgeon. # * * * I found Mr Hunter now ad- vanced to a considerable practice, and a still greater share of public confidence. His collection had increased with his income. In this he was materially assisted by his friendship with Sir Joseph Bankes, who not only allowed him to take any of his own specimens, but procured him every curious animal production in his power, and afterwards divided between him and the British Museum all the specimens of animals he had collected in his voyage round the world. Drawing materials from such ample sources, standing alone in this branch of science, and high in the public estimation, he had so much attention paid to him, that no new animal was brouglit to this country which was not shown to him ; many were given to him, and of those which were for sale he had commonly the refusal ; under these circumstances his collection made a progress which would otherwise have been impossible. In April, 1785, his new rooms were completed, and I devoted the whole of the summer to the object of assisting him in moving his preparations, and arranging them in their proper order."" The surgical practice of Mr Hunter now daily increased, and he performed 1 vide Exposition of the false medium and barrier excluding men of genius from the public. London, Efliiigliam Wilson, 1633. 2 Life of John Hunter by Sir Everard Home, prefixed to his Tre;itisa on the Blood, Iiif.am- Hiation, and Gun shot wounds. HUNTER. 165 with gi'eat skill and judgment numerous operations, which were at that time new in the art of surgery ; but whatever may have been the multiplicity of his pro- fessional engagements, his mind was still devoted to effecting improvements in medical education, and with this view, assisted by his friend the celebrated Dr Fordyce, he instituted a medical society, called the Lyceum iMedicumLondinense, the meetings of which were held in his own lecture-rooms, and which acquired no inconsiderable reputation, both from the numbers and character of its mem- bers. Institutions of this kind have been of eminent importance in fostering and eliciting talents that have done honour to medical science : and this under tlie patronage it enjoyed did not fail to flourish. In the year 1786, in consequence of the death of 3Ir Middleton, Mr Hunter was appointed deputy surgeon general to the army ; shortly after which he pub- lished his work on the venereal disease, and another entitled " Observations on certain parts of the Animal Economy;" both which works rank high in the estimation of the profession. Sir Everard Home mentions the curious fact, that he chose to have his works printed and published in his own house, but " find- ing," he adds, " this measure to bear hard upon the booksellers in a way which had not been explained, and which was not intended, the second editions were sold by Mr Johnson in St Paul's Chur<;h-yard, and 31r NicoU, Pall Mall." In the spring of this year he had another very severe illness, which confined him to bed, and rendered him incapable of any kind of business. " In this state," says his biogTapher, " I was obliged to take upon myself the charge of his pa- tients, as well as of his other affairs ; and these were so extensive, that my resi- dence in his house became absolutely necessary. His recovery was very slow, and his health received so severe a shock, that he was never afterwards entirely free from complaint or capable of his usual bodily exertion. After his recovery from this illness, he was subjected to affections of the heart upon evei-y occasion which agitated his mind. In this infirm state he was unable to attend patients upon sudden calls in the night, or to perfonn operations without assistance ; and for these years I continued to live with him until within a year of his death, and then took a liouse within a few doors, which, in no respects detached me from his pursuits, or prevented me from taking a part in his private practice. The uncertainty of the continuance of life under this affection ; the mental agi- tation, and frequent depression with which it is almost invariably attended, render the victims of such generally anxious and unhappy ; the canker wonu is felt to be preying within the living frame, and there is no hope of restoration to permanent health. But notwithstanding all this, his energies re- mained unabated, and he still toiled with his wonted alacrity in the pursuit of knowledge. In the year 1787, he submitted to the Koyal Society a paper giving an account of the experiment lie had made to determine the effect of ex- tirpating one ovarium, on the number of the young ; also another comnmnica- tion, in which he proves the wolf, jackall, and dog to be of the same species; and another on the anatomy of tlie whale tribe. In return for these labours, having been twelve years a fellow, he received the gold Copleyan medal. Dis- tinctions of this kind, althougli abstrat;tly no stinmlus to men who are actuated by higher motives in pursuit of knowledge, when conferred on men of such emi- nent abilities, not only do honour to the individual to whom they are presented, but to the institution by whi(;h they are awarded ; and certainly, on reviewing the labours of John Hunter, there was perhaps no man who ever lived, better entitled to this honour. In the July of this year, he was chosen a member of the American Philosophical Society ; and the same year, on account of his con- tinued ill health, he applied to the governors of St (Jeorge's hospital to allow him an assistant surgeon, to which request they readily acceded ; and Sir 166 HUNTER. Everard Home was appointed to the office. In the year 1789, he succeeded Mr Adair as inspector general of hospitals, and surgeon general of the army, and about the same time was admitted a member of the Royal College of Sur- geons in Ireland. In the year 1792, Mr Hunter found that the period which he allotted to lec- luring interfered so much with his other avocations, that he gave his materials for the lectures into the hands of Sir Everard Home, who relieved him of tin's duty. He now therefore began to prepare for the press his " Treatise on the Blood, Inflammation, and Gun-shot wounds," the data for which he had been collecting for many years. In his dedication to the king, he states that his ap- pointment as surgeon on the staff in the expedition against Belleisle afforded him the opportunities of attending to gun-shot wounds, of seeing the errors and defects in that branch of military surgery, and of studying to remove them. He further adds, that it drew his attention to inflammation in general, and enabled him to make the observations which form the bases of that doctrine, which has since his time excited so much controversy among physiologists. By a series of very interesting experiments, and by a very ingenious mode of reasoning, he came to the conclusion maintained by this doctrine, which holds, that the blood as existing in its fluid state is alive, and that its death causes the changes which are observed to take place when it is abstracted from the body. In the Old Testament we read, " ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh ; for the life of all flesh is the blood," (Levit. xvii. 14.) The same doctrine too seems promulgated in the Alcoran — and appears to have been maintained by the celebrated Harvey ; — but notwithstanding these facts, there is no reason to presume that the idea was plagiarized by John Hunter : on the contrary, his opinion was with him original, inasmuch as it was elicited by the experiments which he himself pex-formed. This would by no means be an appropriate place ♦o discuss the general merits of this physiological doctrine ; but we do not err in stating that it is supported by very plausible evidence, and is maintained by many eminent men of science. The nature and seat of the living principle which raises man above the inanimate beings by which he is surrounded, is manifestly beyond the reach of human investigation ; but it must be satisfactory to those who have not time nor inclination even to examine the evidence which has been on either side adduced, to find, that such men as John Hunter and Abernethy recognized the existence of something beyond the mere mechanism of the human frame; that they in their acute reasonings urged the existence of an internal and self-sustaining principle, which modifies the different conditions of matter, and must be therefore superior to its decay. In the year 1792, Mr Hunter was elected an honorary member of the Chi- rurgico-Physical Society of Edinburgh, and likewise connected himself with the Veterinary College, tlien just projected in London. " The origin of this insti- tution," says Dr Adams, " was at Odiham in Hampshire ; the Agricultural 'Society of which had offered a premium for the best account of the glandei-s. Mr Sergeant Bell was the fortunate candidate, and the society was so well pleased with his piece, that in a little time after, a Veterinary College was pro- jected, over which that gentleman should preside. As soon as the proposal was known to Mr Hunter he eagerly joined it, urging the advantages which might be derived from it, not only to quadrupeds, but to man, by extending our knowledge of physiology and more especially of pathology. In order to forward he plan, several gentlemen, the duke of Bedford at their head, deposited £500 in the chance of its being never returned. Mr Hunter was one of the number. It was proposed that he should examine Mr Sergeant Bell, to which he readily assented. It will easily be conceived by those who are not at all acquaintereparations to illustrate every department of that interesting science. The museum whi<;h he succeeded in founding, remains to this day a monument of his industry, perseverance, and ingenuity. Here we find arranged in a 172 HUNTER. reniilar order of progressive classification every species of animate being, or link in the chain of organization, from the lowest vegetable, in which life can be scarcely recognized, up to man ; but no account or description, however minute, can do adequate justice to such a collection. By his will he left it, under the discretion of his executors, to be sold for the benefit of his family, in one entire lot, to the government of (]ireat Britain ; or in case of refusal, to any other government or state which would oiler such a price for it, as all parties might consider reasonable. Six years after his death, it was purchased by the British parliament for fifteen thousand pounds, and given to the College of Surgeons, on condition that twenty-four lectures should be delivered annually to members of the college, and that under certain regulations it should be open to the public. We thus find that, while his elder brother completed a museum which does honour to the university in which it is pi'eserved, the younger, by his in- dustry and perseverance, completed another, which has been pronounced by the most competent judges to be an honour to his country. How practical a lesson does this atlbrd of the prodigious achievements which may be accomplished by the sustained perseverance and labours of a single individual ! In pei-sonal appearance, John Hunter was much below the ordinary mid- dle stature ; but his body was well formed for muscular exertion, and when in health he was .always extremely active. His countenance was open, and although impressed with lines of thought, was by no means habitually severe ; on the contrary, its expression soon softened into tenderness, or became lighted up by mirth, according as the impression swept across his mind. UhenLavater saw his print, he said " That man thinks for himself," an opinion which the whole tenor of his actions will be seen to have verified. An admirable portrait of him was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, of which a spirited engraving Avas executed by Mr Sharpe. A bust also of him was modeled by a Mr Bacon, in the modeling of which he was assisted by a cast taken during life. He was quick in manner, and " in conversation," says Sir Everard Home, " spoke too freely and harshly of his contemporaries ;" but this, we are given to understand, arose rather from his conviction that surgery was still in its infancy, than from any uncharitable motive, or wish to depreciate his contemporaries. From almost the earliest periods in society, medical men have been stigmatized for displaying the " odium medicum ;" but the fact is, that men educated to the practice of an art, the principles of which are not cognizable to the public, are apt to treat with intolerance the pretensions of men whom they have reason to know, not- withstanding they may have crept into a certain degree of favour, are ignorant perhaps of the most elementary principles of their profession. The observations of John Hunter', even in casual occasions, were often remarkably pointed, and significant of his very acute and discriminating mental powers. On one occasion, having been heard to express regret that we must all die, a physician present took advantage of the opportunity to inquire whether it was true that his brother had in his last moments expressed how " pleasant a thing it is to die ?" to which iie immediately replied, " 'tis poor work when it comes to that," evidently in- sinuating a doubt as to the moral correctness of any such sentiments, which, as we have before hinted, Ave regard as a rash declaration, incompatible with the sufferings, condition, and mysterious, yet infinitely important prospects of any man on the brink of that future world, which, seriously regarded, nmst suggest reflections of a very different, and far more solenm nature. Few men >vcre more generous than John Hunter, and the only fault which can impugn his memory is, that in executing his designs for the benefit of science, he neglected too nmch the interests of his wife and children. It is to be regretted that the HUNTEU. 1T3 ambition of being serviceable to mankind, should huiTy any man away from the more immediate consideration of the uants and condition of his own family; for not all the advantages conferred on posterity, nor all the fame that is trumpeted abroad in his honour, can compensate for a single pang of that Avidowed bosom which, from su<;h neglect, may have to endure the keen and bitter sorrows of unpitied poverty. We say this without disparagement to the many excellent qualities which distinguished the character of John Hunter, — a name which will be ever highly esteemed in the annals of British surgery. We cannot, however, conclude this memoir without pausing to notice more fully the estimable qualities of the lady to whom it was his good fortune to be united. She possessed personal attractions of the highest order ; " into what- ever assembly she entered," says one who appears to have been acquainted with her, " the delicacy of her face, with the commanding grace of her parson, gave her a peculiar air of distinction, and seldom failed to attract attention. But she never ascribed to her own merit the notice she received in society ; feeling herself the wife of a celebrated man, she was fond of imputing the attention she received to the influence of his character ; doing injustice to hei-self from a generous pride of owing every thing to him ; and she never appeared so much gratified by attention as when she supposed it was shown to her for his sake."* The same competent authority states, that " during her husband's life they lived in a liberal and hospitable manner. Mr Hunter was too much devoted to science to attend much to his worldly aftairs, and too careless of money to be rich. He did not leave his family in affluence, yet so circumstanced that his Avidow always supported a most respectable appearance, and was visited by the first society." We repeat that we do not think that any man's devotion to science affords the slightest apology or ground of excuse for leaving those to whom he should be bound by the most sacred ties of attachment, in neglected circumstances. On the death of her husband, fllrs John Hunter withdrew from society, and spent her life almost entirely in retirement. After a lingering ill- ness, which she bore with much patience and resignation, she died on 7th January, 1821, in the T'Jth year of her age, leaving behind her a son and daughter, the former a major in the army, and the latter the widow of general Campbell, son of the late Sir James Campbell of Inverneil. Besides her many amiable domestic qualifications, to which all who know her bore testimony, she was exceedingly accomplished ; and occasionally during her husband's lifetime, mingled in society with Horace Walpole, IMrs Carter, Mi-s Vesey, and other characters well known in the literary world. She sang and played with admirable taste, and had a talent for poetry which she chiefly dis- played in the production of songs and poems, which were characterized by much refinement of thought, sensibility of feeling, and delicacy of expression. Among the former, " The Son of Alknomook " and " Queen jMary's Lament," became extremely popular ; among the latter, her verses " On November, 1784," a beautiful address to fancy, under the title of " La Douce Chlmerc," with several other minor poems, display much feeling and imagination.^ We cannot conclude this memoir more appropriately than by transcribing the follow- ing little poent of hers, not that we have selected it as a specimen of her general poetical power, but berause it was for the first time published in the Scots 3Iagazine for March, 1 8-Jl, and may not, on that account, be generally known : — ♦ Register of Deaths, Scx)ts Magazine, 1S24. * tjhe collected her poems and songs and published tliem in a small volume in the jear IhO'j- 174 HUTTON. THE LOT OF THOUSANDS. How many lift the head, look gay, and smile. Against their consciences ?—yiiuiig. When hope lies dead within the heart, By secret sorrow close concealed, We shrink, lest looks or words impart What must not be revealed. « 'Tis hard to smile when one could weep, To speak when one would silent be ; To wake when one should wish to sleep, And wake to agon)'. Yet such the lot by thousands cast, Who wander in this world of care, And bend beneath the bitter blast, To save them from despair. But nature waits her guests to greet, Where disappointment cannot come ; .'ind time guides with unerring feet The weary wanderers home. HUTTON, (Dr) James, an eminent philosophical character, Avas born in Edinburgh on the Srd June, 1726. His father was a respectable merchant, uho for many years held the office of city treasurer, and was admired by all who knew him, for his sound judgment and strict integrity. He died while James was very young; the care, therefore, of her son's education devolved upon ftirs Hutton, whose great maternal kindness was only exceeded by her desire to give her son a liberal education. She sent him first to the High school of Edinburgh, and afterwards to the university, where he entered as a student of humanity iu 1740. Professor M'Laurin was then the most celebrated teacher in that semi- nary, but though Dr Hutton admired his lectures, he did not seem much disposed towards the science which he taught. To professor Stevenson's prelictions on logic may be attributed the first direction given to young Button's genius, not so nmch for having made him a logician, but for having accidentally directed his mind towards the science of chemistry. The professor having casually men- tioned in one of his lectures, in illustration of some general doctrine, the fact, that gold is dissolved in aqua reyia, and that two acids, which can each of them singly dissolve any baser metals, must unite their strength before they can at- tack the most precious ; thj phenomenon struck so forcibly on the mind of Hutton, that he began to search with avidity after books which might explain its cause, and afford him an opportunity of pursuing a study altogether new. He at first found some embarrassments in his pursuit fx'om the superficial works that came to his hands, and it was from Harris's Lexicon Techni that he first derived his knowledge of chemistry, and which by a sort of elective attraction drew his mind all at once to a favourite study, that decided his prospects in life. Though he pursued his academical studies with closeness and regularity, and evinced a taste and capacity for instruction, his friends did not see much profit likely to arise from scientific pursuits, and accordingly persuaded him to adopt some profession, which, though much against his inclination, he agreed to, and was accordingly placed as an apprentice with Mr George Chalmers, writer to the signet, in 1743. The dry routine of a laborious profession in a less ardent IIUTTON. 1'75 mind might have cliecked, if not for ever destroyed, those seeds of genius which uere as yet scarce called into life ; but so strong v.as Mr Hutton's propensity for scientific study, that, instead of copying- papers, and making himself acquainted with legal proceedings, he was oftener found amusing himself \vith his fellow apprentices in chemical experiments ; so that Mr Chalmers was forced to ac- knowledge that the business of a ^vriter was one in which he had little chance to succeed. With a fatherly kindness, he therefore advised young Mutton to embrace some other employment more suitable to his inclinations, and relieved him at once from the obligations he came under as his apprentice. How much is science indebted to that liberal-minded man ! Having now to fix upon another profession, he selected that of medicine, as being the most nearly allied to cliemistry, and began to study under Dr George Young, and at the same time attended the lectures at the university from 1744 to 1747. The schools of medicine in Edinburgh at that time liad not arrived at the high perfection for which they are now so justly celebrated, and it was thought indispensably neces- sary that a physician should finish his education on the continent. Mr Hutton accordingly proceeded to Paris, where he applied himself closely to anatomy and chemistry. After remaining for two years in France, he returned home by the way of the Low Countries, and took the degi-ee of doctor of medicine at Leyden in 1749. On arriving in London, about the end of that year, he began seriously to re- flect upon his prospects in life, and he soon saw, that however much he wished to establish himself in his native city as a physician, there were many obstacles which seemed insurmountable. He was a young man whose merit was unknown, and whose connexions, though respectable, had no power to assist him, the business being then in the hands of a few eminent practitioners who had been long known and established. All this seems to have made a deep impression on his mind, and he expressed himself with mu(;h anxiety on the subject in cor- responding with his friends in Edinburgh. Amongst these there was one, a young man nearly of his own age, whose habits and pursuits were congenial Mith his own, and with whom he had tried many novel experiments in chemis- try; amongst the best was one on the nature and properties of sal ammoniac. Tliis friend, whose name was James Davie, had, in Mr Hutton's absence, pushed his inquiries on the subject to a considerable extent ; the result of which aHbrded him a well-grounded hope of being able to establish a profitable manu- factory of that salt from coal-soot. IMr Davie communicated the project to his friend in London, who, with a mind as yet undecided on any fixed pursuit, re- turned to Edinburgh in 1750, and abandoning entirely his views on the practice of medicine, resolved to apply himself to agriculture. What his motives were for taking this step it is difficult to ascertain. His father had left him a small property in Berwickshire, and being of an independent and unambitious mind, despising avarice and vanity alike, he most probably looked upon the business of a farmer as entitled to a preference above any other. But not being dis- posed to do any thing in a superficial way, he determined to gain a knowledge of rural economy in the best school of the day. For this purpose he went into Norfolk, and took up his residence in the house of a farmer, from whom he ex- pected to receive sulficient instruction. He appears to have enjoyed his situation very nmch, — the natural simplicity of his disposition according well with the plain, blunt characters around him. It has been remarked of Dr Hutton, that to men of an ordinary grade of mind, he appeared to be an ordinary man possessing little more spirit perhaps . than is usually to be met with. 'Ihis circumstance made his residence in Norfolk quite agreeable, as even there he could for a time forget his great acqu.ie- 1T6 BUTTON. Hieiits, and luingle with the simple characters around him, in so cordial a manner, as to make them see nothing in the stranger to set them at a distance from him, or induce them to treat him Avith reserve. In years after, when surrounded by his literary friends, the philosopher loved to describe the happy hours he spent while under the humble roof of honest John Dybold, from whom lie had learned so many good practical lessons in husbandry. From his residence in Norfolk, he made many journeys on foot through other parts of England to ob- tain information in agriculture, and it was in the course of these rambles that, to amuse himself on the road, he fust began to study mineralogy and geology. In a letter to Sir John Hall of Douglas, a gentleman possessed of much taste for science, he says, while on his perambulations, " that he was become very fond of studying the surface of the earth, and was looking with anxious curiosity, into every pit, or ditch, or bed of a river, that fell in his way, and that if he did not always avoid the fate of Tholes, his misfortune was certainly not owing to the same cause." This letter was written from Yarmouth in 1753. With the view of still further increasing his knowledge of agriculture, he set out for Flanders, where good husbandry was well understood, long before it was introduced into Britain, and travelling through Holland, Brabant, Flanders, and Picardy, he returned about the middle of summer, 1754. Notwithstanding all he had seen to admire in the garden culture that prevailed in Holland, and the husbandry in Flanders, he says, in a letter to his friend Sir John Hall, from London, " liad I a doubt of it before I set out, I should have returned fully convinced that they are good husbandmen in Norfolk." Many observations made on that journey, particularly on mineralogy, are to be found in his Theory of the Earth. As he was now sufficiently initiated in a knowledge of agriculture, he wished to apply himself to the practice in his own country ; and for that purpose, returned to Scotland at the end of summer. He at first hesitated on the choice of a situation where he might best carry his impi'oved plans of farming into efTect, and at last fixed upon his own patrimony in Berwickshire. Prom Norfolk he brought with him a plough and ploughman, who set the first example of good tillage. It was a novel sight for the surrounding farmers to see the plough drawn by two horses, without an accompanying driver. The new system was, however, found to succeed in all its parts, and was quickly adopted, so that I'r Hutton has the credit of introducing the new husbandry into a country where it has, since his time, made more rapid improvements than in any other in Europe. He resided on his farm until the year 1768, occasionally making a tour into the Highlands, with his friend Sir George Clerk, upon gealogical inquiries, as he was now studying that branch of science with unceasing attention. While residing on his farm for the last fourteen years, he Avas also engaged in the sal ammoniac work, which had been actually established on the founda- tion of the experiments already made by his friend and himself, but the busi- ness remained in Mr Davie's name only till 176 5, when a copartnership was regularly entered into, and the manufactory carried on in the name of both. As his farm, from excellent management, progressively improved, it became a more easy task, and to a mind like his, less interesting ; so that finding a good opportunity of letting it to advantage, he did so, and became a resident in Edinburgh in the year 1768, from whi<"h time he devoted his whole life to scientific pursuits. This change of residence was accompanied with many ad- vantages he seldom enjoyed before ; — having the entire command of liis own time, he was enabled to mix in a society of friends wlmse minds were congenial with his own; among whom were Sir Geoi'ge Clerk, his brother Mr Clerk of Eldin, Dr Bla(;k, Mr Russel, professor of natural pliilosophy, professor Adam Ferguson, Dr James Lind, and others. Surrounded by so many eminent HUTTON. ^7'7 cliara<:tei"s, liy all of wlioni lie was beloved and i-espected, from the vast fund of infonnaLion he possessed, he employed his time in maturing his views and searching into the secrets of nature with unwearied zeal. In one of these ex- periments he discovered that mineral alkali is contained in zeolite. On boiling the gelatinous substance obtained from combining that fossil with muriatic acid, he found that, after evaporation, the salt was formed. Dr Playfair thinks this to be the first instance of an alkali being discovered in a stony body. The ex- periments of M. Klapratli and Dr Kennedy have confirmed the conclusion, and led to others of the same kind. With a view of completing his Theory of the Earth, he made many journeys into different parts of England and Wales, and on visiting the salt mines of Cheshire, he made the curious observations of the con- centric circles marked on the roofs of these mines, to which he lias referred in his Theory, as affording a proof that the salt rock was not formed from mere aqueous deposition. In 1777, Dr Hutton's first publication was given to the world in the shape of a pamphlet, on the " Natui-e, Quality, and Distinctions of Coal and Culm." This was occasioned by a question which the boai-d of customs and privy coun- cil wished to have settled, in order to fix on the proportion of duty the one should bear with the other when carried coastwise. Dr Hutton's pamphlet was considered so ingenious and satisfactory, that an exemption of the small coal of Scotland frora paying duty on such short voyages was the consequence. He took a lively interest in promoting the arts of his native country, and devoted much of his time and attention to the project of an internal navigation between the Firths of Forth and Clyde. He read several papers in the Philosophical Society, before its incorporation with the Royal Society, (none of which were then published, with the exception of one in the second volume of the Transac- tions of the Royal Society,) " on certain natural appearances of the ground on the hill of Arthur's Seat." His zeal for the support of science in this city in- duced him to come forward and comumnicate to the Royal Society a Sketch of a Theory of the Earth, the perfecting of which had occupied his unceasing atten- tion for a period of thirty years, during which time he had never censed to study the natural history of the globe, with a view of ascertaining all the changes that have taken place on its surface, and discovering the causes by which they have been produced ; and from liis great skill as a mineralogist, and having examined the great leading facts of geology with his own eyes, and carefully studied every learned ^vork on the natural history of the earth, it nmst be ac- knowledged tiiat few men could enter better prepared on so arduous a task. As this Theory is so well known, and has been the subject of so much contro- versy, our limits will not permit us entering upon it here ; we therefore refer our readei*8 to the book itself. Dr Kirwan of Dublin, and others, considered Dr Hutton's Theory both eccen- tric and paradoxical, and have . The editor of the reprint observes, that lie " intended, along with the present edition, to have given the public a short sketch of the life of the author ; but this intention he has been obliged to relin- quish from want of materials. To numerous enquiries, in many directions, no satisfactory answer was procured, and the editor mentions with regret, that he knows nothing more of this eminent literary character, and profound philologist, than can be collected from his address to the reader." The dedication is to the duke of York ; and if we had not been furnished with vast specimens of the ca- pacity of royal stomachs at that period for tiattery, we might have suspected Mr Christopher of a little qtiizzing, when he enlarges on the moderation, tlie generosity, the kindness to friends, the forgiveness to enemies, displayed by the prince, and especially on his having "so firmly on solid gi-ounds established the protestant religion." Among the other eulogiunis is one which may be inter- 188 JACK. preted as somewhat apologetical on the part of the author, in as far as respects his own conduct. " The neglected sufferer for loyalty is now taken into care and favour, and they that have recovered better principles, are not reproached nor passed by ; t/ieir transgressions are forgot, and titne allowed to take off their evil habit.''"' The Nomenclature is a biief general biographical and to- pographical dictionary of Scotland. With a firm adherence to the fabulous early history, the autlior shows vast general reading ; but, like most authors of the age, he seems to have considered Scotland the centre of greatness, and all other transactions in the world as naturally merging into a connexion with it. Thus in juxtaposition with Argyle, we find "Argivi, Argos, and Arii." And the Dee is discussed beside the Danube. From the address attached to this volume, we learn that its publication was occasioned by his recent dismissal from the king's service. " And now,'' he says, " being, as it seemeth by a cruel misrepresentation, turned out of my pub- lic employment and livelyhood, which the defender of the sincere will return, I have at the desire of the printer, in this interval, revised, &c." Taking the dedication in connexion with this circumstance, there can be little doubt as to the particular object of that composition ; and from another document it would appear that he was not unsuccessful in his design. An act of parliament, dated tliree years later than the publication of tlie Nomenclature, and ratifying an act of privy council, which had reserved to Irvine the privilege of acting as a physi- cian, independent of the College of Physicians of Edinburgh, just established, proceeds upon a statement by the learned man himself, that " he has been bred liberally in these arts and places that fit men for the practice of physick and chirurgery, and has received all the degrees of the schools that give ornament and authority in these professions, and has practised the same the space of thertie years in the eminentest places and among vei-y considerable persons in this island, and has, by vertue of commissions from his royal master, exerced the dutie of cherurgeon of his guards of horse twenty-eight years together, and has had the charge of chief physician and chirurgeon of his armie.''- He then states, that he wishes to practise his profession in peace, in the city of Edinburgh, of which he is a burgess, and hopes the council " would be pleased not to sutler him, by any new gift or patent to be stated under the partial humors or affronts of (a) new incorporation or college of physicians, composed of men that are alto- gether his juniors (save doctor Hay) in the studies of phylosophie and practise of physick." J. JACK, or JACH^.US, Gilbert, an eminent metaphysician and medical writer, and professor of philosophy at Leyden, was born at Aberdeen, as has been asserted, (although there seems but slight ground for fixing the date so precisely,) in the year 1578. Early in life, and apparently before he had com- menced a regular series of literary study, he lost his father, and was committed by his mother to the private tuition of a person named Thomas Cargill. He af- terwards studied under Robert Howie : and as that individual was made prin- cipal of Marischal college, on its erection into a univei-sity, in 1593, it is pro- bable that Jack obtained a portion of his university education at Aberdeen, although he is mentioned by Freher as having studied philosophy at St Andrews, * Acts of the Scottish parliament, viii. 530-531. JACK. 189 where he was under the tuition of Robert Hay, an eminent theologist.^ By the advice of his tutor, who probably detected in his mind the dawnings of high talent, Jack continued his studies in the universities on the continent. He re- mained for some time at the colleges of Herborn and Helmstadt ; wlien, incited by the high fame of the university of Leyden, he removed thither, and sought employment as a private teacher, in expectation of eventually obtaining a pro- fessorship. His ambition was at length gratified, by his appointment, in 1G04, to what has been in general terms called the philosophical chair of that celebrated in- stitution. Scotland, which seems to have acquired a permanent celebrity from the numerous persevering and ambitious men it has dispersed through the world, was at no time so fruitful in its supply of eminent men as during the life-time of the subject of our memoir. Adolphus Vorstius, a person known to fame chiefly from his tributes to the memory of some eminent friends, and colleague of Jack in the university of Leyden, in a funeral oration to his memory, from which the materials for a memoir of Jack are chiefly derived, mentions that at the period we allude to, there was scarcely a college in Eui-ope of any celebrity, which did not number a Scotsman among its professors : and whether from the meagre tuition in our own universities, or other causes, most of the Scotsmen celebrated for learning at that period — and they were not a few — began their career of fame abroad. In the works, or correspondence of the continental scholars of tbe seventeenth century, we frequently meet with names of Scotsmen now foi-gotten in their native country, and that of Jack frequently occurs, ac- companied with many indications of respect. He is said to have been the first who taught metaphysics at Leyden, a statement from which we may at least presume, that he opened new branches of inquiry, and was celebrated for the originality of the system he inculcated. During his professor-ship at Leyden he studied medicine, and took his degree in that science in IGll. In 1612, appeared his first work, " Institutiones Physica?, Juventutis Lugdu- nensis Studiis potissimum dicatae," republished with notes in 16 IG. This trea- tise is dedicated to Rlatthew Overbeguius (Overbeke), and is in tlie usual manner prefaced by laudatory addresses, which are from the pens of men of celebrity — Daniel Heinsius, Greek professor of Leyden, (who appropriately uses his pro- fessional language,) Gaspard Earlffius, the professor of logic at Leyden, and Theodore Schrevelius (probably father to the Lexicographer Cornelius). This work, notwithstanding its title, will be readily understood to be generally metaphysical, and the portion tending to that species of discussion is that from which a modern student will derive most satisfaction. It consists of nine boohs. The first is introductory, containing definitions, &:c, the second is De Natura, the third De Motu, the fourth De Tempore, the fifth De Ccclo, the sixth De Cor- pore Misto, the seventh De IMeteoris, the eighth De Anima, and the ninth De Anima Rationali. Apart from the doctrines now called vulgar errors, for an adherence to which the limited bounds of our own knowledge must teach us to excuse our forefathers, this work may be perused with interest and even profit. To have departed from tiie text of Aristotle might have been considered equal in heresy, to a denial of any of the evident laws of nature ; but if Jack was like others, a mere conmientator on the great lawgiver of philosophers, he frequent- ly clothes original views in correct, clear, and logical language ; his discussions on time and motion might not be ungrateful to a student of Hutcheson or Keid ; and though almost unknown to his country, and forgotten in his native city, he is no contemptible member of the class of common-sense philosophers of ' Freheri Theatrum virorum eruditione clarorum, ii. 1353. Jactis utriusque lingua: fun- damentis, ad academiam AnJreanam ablegatus, philosopliia opcnim navavit, prcccptore usus Roberto Havcco Theologo exifrio. 190 JACK. uliom Scotland has boasted. In 1724, Jack published another work, entitled " Institutiones Medicffi," republished in 1631. About this period his celebrity had reached the British isles ; and, like his illustrious friend and comrade Vos- sius, the author of the History of Pelagianism, he was invdted to fill the chair oi civil history at Oxford, a proffer he declined. This eminent man died on the 17tli day of April, 1628, leaving behind him a widow and ten children. He seems to have been on terms of intimate and friendly familiarity with the greatest men of the age. He is said to have been a hard student, to have pos- sessed vast powers of memory, and to have been more attentive to the ele- gancies of life, and to his personal appearance, than scholars then generally were. JACK, or JACHEUS, Thomas, a classical scholar of eminence, and author of the " Onomasticon Poeticum." The period of the birth of this author is unknown : Dr M'Crie has with his usual industry made investigations into his history, but excepting the circumstances to be discovered from the dedication to his work, none but a few barren facts have been found, which must have ill repaid the Labours of the search. He was master of the grammar school at Glasgow, but at what period he entered that seminary is unluiown. He relinquished the situa/- tion in 1574, and became minister of the neighbouring parish of Eastwood, from which, in the manner of the time, he dates his book " ex sylva vulgo dicta orientali ;" his work is entitled " Onomasticon Poeticum, sive proprioruni quibus in suis monumentis usi sunt veteres Poetre, brevis descriptio Poetica ;" it is neatly printed in quarto, by V»'^aldegrave, 1592, and is now very rare. It may be described as a versified topographical dictionary of the localities of classical poetry, expressing in a brief sentence, seldom exceeding a couple of lines, some characteristic, which may remind the student of the subject of his reading's. He mentions that he has found the system advantageous by experiment ; and most of our readers will be reminded of the repeated attempts to teach the rules of grammar, and other matters necessary to be committed to memory, in a similar manner. The subject did not admit of much elegance, and the chief merit of the author will be acknowledged in the perseverance which has amassed so many references to subjects of classical researcli. A quotation of the first few lines may not be unacceptable : " Caucaseus vatos Abaris ventura profalur, Argivum bis sextus Albas rex, martis in armis Acer, Hjpermnestra Lynceoque parentibus ortus ; Hinc et Abantiadum series dat jura Pelasgis. Ex nube Ixion Centaurum gignit Abantem. ^neas comitem quo nomine clarus habebat .Egypti ad fines Abatos jacet Insula dives : Quam arcum armavit lino natura tenaci, Armiferse Thracis quondam urbs Abdera Celebris." This passage contains the accounts of Abaris, Abantiada;, Abas, Abatos, and Abdera. In the dedication, which is addressed to James, eldest son of Claud Hamilton, commendator of Paisley, a pupil of the author. Jack complacently mentions, that he had been induced to publish by the recommendation of Andrew Melville and Buchanan, and that the latter eminent person had revised the work, and sub- mitted to a counter revision of works of his own. Prefixed to the Onomasticon are encomiastic verses by Robert Pollock, Hercules Pollock, Patrick Shai'pe, Andrew Melville, and Sir Thomas Craig. Dr M'Crie has discovered that Thomas Jack, as minister of Rutherglen, was one of those who, in 1583, opposed the election of Ro- JAMES. 191 bert Montgomery as archbishop of Glasgow. He appears to have been a member of the General Assembly in 1590 ; he is mentioned in 1 593, as a minister within the bounds of the presbytery of Paisley, and must have died in 159G, as appears from the Testament Testamentar of " Euphame Wylie, relict of umquhill Mr Tiiomas Jak, min"^' at Eastwod." JAMES I., king of Scots, and illustrious both in political and literary history, was born at Dunfermline in the year 1394. He was the third son of Robert KI., king of Scots, (whose father, Robert H., was the first sovereign of the Stuart family,) by his consort Annabella, or Annaple Drummond, daughter of Sir John Drummond of Stobhall, ancestor of the noble family of Perth. It appears that John Stuart, for such was the real name of Robert HI., had married Anna- ple Drummond at a period antecedent to the year 1358 ; as in 1357, he and his wife received a charter of the earldom of Athol from David II. The unusual period of thirty-seven years at least, must thus have elapsed between the mar- riage of the parents and the birth of their distinguished son. Their eldest child, David, born in 1373, and created duke of Rothesay, was starved to death by his imcle the duke of Albany in 1402 ; a second son, John, died in infancy. The inlieritance of the crown was thus opened upon prince James at the age of eight years, but under circumstances which rendered the prospect less agreeable than dangerous. The imbecility of Robert III. had permitted the reins of govern- ment to be assumed by his brother the duke of Albany, who meditated a trans- ference of the sovereignty to his own family, and scrupled at no measures which might promise to aid him in his object. There was the greatest reason to a]>- prehend that prince James, as well as his elder brother the duke of Rothesay, would be removed by some foul means, through the machinations of Albany ; after which, the existence of the king's female children would present but a trifling obstacle to his assuming the rights of heir presumptive. The education of prince James was early confided to Wardlaw, bishop of St Andrews, the learned and excellent prelate, who, in founding the university in his metropolitan city, became the originator of that valuable class of institutions in Scotland. Sinclair, earl of Orkney, and Sir David Fleming of Cumbernauld, were among the barons who superintended the instruction of the prince in mar- tial and athletic exercises. For the express purpose of saving hiin from tlie fangs of his uncle, it was resolved by the king, in 1405, to send him to the court of Charles VI. of France, where he might at once be safer in person, and receive a superior education to what could be obtained in his own countrj-. With this view the young prince was privately conducted to East Lothian, and embarked on board a vessel at the isle of tho Bass, along with the earl of Orkney and a small ]tarty of friends. It would appear that he thus escaped his uncle by a very narrow chance, as Sir David Fleming, in returning from the place of embarkation, was set upon at Long-Hermandstone by the retainers of that wicked personage, and cruelly slain. James pursued his voyage towards France, till, cruising along the coast of Norfolk, his vessel was seized by a squadron of armed merchantmen, commanded by John Jolyft", and belonging to the port of Clay. Though this event took place in the time of a truce between the two countries, (April 12, 1405,) Henry IV. of England reconciled Iiis conscience to the detention of the prince, for which, indeed, it is highly probable he had made some arrangements previously \\ith the duke of Albany, his faithful ally, and the imitator of his conduct. When the earl of Orkney presented a remonstrance against such an unjustifiable act, asserting that the education of the prince was the sole object of his voyage to France, he turned it off with a jest, to the effect, that he was as well ac- quainted with tlie French language, and could teach it as well as the king of 192 JAME-. France,^ so that the prince Avould lose nothing by remaining where he was. He soon showed, however, the value which he attached to the possession of the prince's person, by shutting him up in the castle of Pevensey in Sussex. The aged king of Scotland sank under this new calamity; and, dying April 4, 1400, left the nominal sovereignty to his captive son, but the real power of the state tu his flagitious brother, the duke of Albany, who assumed the title of governor. Having no design against the mind of his captive, Henry furnished him in a liberal manner with the means of continuing his education. Sir Jolin Pelham, the constable of Pevensey castle, and one of the most distinguished knights of the age, was appointed his governor ; and masters were provided for instructing him in various accomplishments and branches of knowledge. To quote the words of Mr Tytler," " In all athletic and manly exercises, in the use of his weapons, in his skill in horsemanship, his speed in running, his strength and dexterity as a wrestler, his firm and fair aim as a joister and tourneyer, the young king is allowed by all contemporary writers to have arrived at a pitch of excellence which left most of his own age far behind him ; and as he advanced to maturity, his figure, although not so tall as to be majestic or imposing, was, fiom its make, peculiarly adapted for excellence in such accomplishments. His chest was broad and full, his arms somewhat long and muscular, his flanks tliin and spare, and his limbs beautifully formed ; so as to combine elegance and lightness witii strength. In throwing the hammer, and pi'opelling, or, to use the Scottish phrase, * putting ' the stone, and in skill in archery, we have the testi- mony cf an ancient chronicle, that none in his own dominions could surpass him. * * ♦ To skill in wai'like exercises, every youthful candidate for honour and for knighthood was expected to unite a variety of more pacific and elegant accomplishments, which were intended to render him a de- lightful companion in the hall, as the others were calculated to make him a formidable enemy in the field. The science of music, both instrumental and vocal ; the composition and recitation of ballads, roundelays, and other minor pieces of poetry ; an acquaintance with the romances and the writings of the popular poets of the times — were all essential branches in the system of educa- tion which was then adopted in the castle of any feudal chief; and from Pelham, who had himself been brought up as the squire of the duke of Lancaster, we may be confident that the Scottish king received every advantage which could be confeiTed by skilful instructors, and by the most ample opportunities of cul- tivation and improvement. Such lessons and exhibitions, liowever, might have been thrown away upon many, but James had been born with those natural ca- pacities which fitted him to excel in them. He possessed a fine and correct musical ear; a voice which was rich, flexible, and sufficiently powerful for chamber music ; and an enthusiastic delight in the art, which, unless controlled by strong good sense, and a feeling of the higher destinies to which he was called, might have led to a dangerous devotion to it. * * Cut oft' for a long and tedious period from his crown and his people, James could aftord to spend many hours each day in the cultivation of accomplishments to which, under other circumstances, it would have been criminal to have given up so much of his time. And this Mill easily account for that high musical excellence to which he undoubtedly attained, and will explain the great variety of instruments upon which he performed. * * He was acquainted with the Latin language, as far, at least, as was permitted by the rude and barbarous condition in which it existed previous to the revival of letters. In theology, oratory, and grammar — 1 It will be recollected that French was the common language of the coart of England, and of all legal and public business, till the age following th:it of Henry IV. 2 Lives of iscottisii Worthies, ii. 2G3. JAMES. 193 in the civil and canon laws, he was instructed by the best masters ; and an ac- quaintance with Norman-fVench was necessarily acquired at a court where it was still currently spoken and liighly cultivated. Devoted, however, as he was to these pursuits, James appears to have given his mind with a still stronger bias to the study of English poetry, choosing Chaucer and (jower for his masters in the art, and entering with the utmost ardour into the great object of the first of these illustrious men — tiie improvement of the English language, the production of easy and natural rhymes, and the refinement of poetical numbers from the rude compositions which had pi-eceded him." Thus passed years of restraint, unmarked by any other incident than removal from one place of captivity to another, till the death of Henry IV. in 1411. On the very day after this event, the " gallant" Henry V. ordered his royal pri- soner to be removed to close confinement in the Tower. In general, however, the restraint imposed upon the young king was not inconsistent with his enjoyment of the pleasures of life, among which one of the most agreeable must have been the intercourse uhich he was allowed to hold with his Scottish friends. It is the opinion of 3Ir Tytler, that the policy of tlie English kings in this matter was mncli regulated by the terror in which they held a mysterious person residing at the Scottish court, under tlie designation of king Richard, and who was the object of perpetual conspiracies among the enemies of the house of Lancaster. It is at least highly probable tiiat Albany kept up that personage as a kind of bug- bear, to induce the English monarch to keep a close guard over his nephew. The duke of Albany died in 1419, and was succeeded as governor by his eldest son 3Iurdoch, who was as weak as his father had been energetic and am- bitious. About the same time, a large party of Scottish knights and their re- tainers proceeded, under the command of the earl of Buchan, second son of Albany, to assist the P^rench king in repelling the eiTorts which Henry V. of England was making to gain the sovereignty of France. In the hope, perhaps, cf gaining his deliverance, James was persuaded by king Henry to accompany him to France, and to join with him in taking the opposite side to that which was assumed by this party of his subjects. But of this part of his life no clear account is preserved ; only the consideration which he attained with the English king is amply proved by his acting (1422) as cliief mourner at his funeral. Tliis, however, was an event which he had little reason to regret, as it opened a prospect of his obtaining his liberty, a circumstance whicli would scarcely have taken place during the life of Henry ; or, at least, while that prince lived, James could not look forward to any definite period for tlie termination of iiis cap- tivity. Tiie duke of Bedford, who was appointed protector of England on the death of Henry, adopting a wiser policy witii regard to Scotland than that monarc'i had pursued, offered to deliver up the Scottish king on payment of a ransom of forty thousand pounds, to be paid within six years by half yearly payments, and that hostages should be given for tlie faithful liquidation of the debt. The English, disavowing the term ransom as derogatory, in this instance, to the na- tional character and dignity, alleged that the pecuniary consideration was de- manded as payment of the king's maintenance while in England ; but as Henry V. allowed only £700 a-year for this purpose, and the term of James's captivity was about nineteen years, giving thus an amount of something more than £13,000 altogether, it is pretty evident tliat they did not intend to be losers by the transaction — though, as the money was never paid, they certainly were not gainers. After a good deal of delay, and much discussion on both sides, the ar- rangement for the liberation of tlie king was finally adjusted by the Scottish commissioners, who proceeded to London for tiiat purpose, on the 9th of 3Iarci , in. 2 B 194 JAMES, 1123 ; and amongst other securities for the stipulated sum, tendered that of the buro-hs of Edinburgh, Perth, Dundee, and Aberdeen. Previously to his leaving England, James married Joanna, daughter of the duchess of Clarence, niece of Richard II. To tliis lady the Scottish monarch had been long attached. Her beauty had inspired his muse, and was the frequent theme of his song. Amongst the poems attributed to the royal poet, there is one, entitled " A Sang on Ab- sence," beginning " Sen that the eyne that workis my weilfair," in which he bewails, in strains breathing the warmest and most ardent attachment, the ab- sence of his mistress ; and in tiie still more elaborate production of the " King's Quain," he thus speaks of her : — " Of hir array, the form gif I sail write Toward her goldin haire and rich atyre, In fret wise coufhit with perils white ; And grete balas lemyng as the fire, AVith many ane emerant and saphire ; And on hir hide a chaplet fresh of hewe Of plumys partit rede, and white, and blue." In this beautiful poem the enamoured king describes himself as having first fallen in love with his future queen, as she was walking in the gardens under the tower at Windsor in which he was confined. It is probable that he lost no time in making his fair enslaver aware of tlie conquest she had made, and it is also likely that her Avalks under the tower were not rendered less frequent by the discovery. The splendour of Joanna's dress, as described in this poem, is very remarl^able. She seems to have been covered with jewels, and to have been altogether arrayed in the utmost magnificence ; not improbably, in the consciousness of the eyes that were upon her. The result, at all events, shows that the captive prince must have found means sooner or later of communicating with the fair idol of his affections. The marriage ceremony was performed at the church of St Mary's Overy in South wark ; the king receiving with his bride as her marriage portion, a dis- charge for ten thousand pounds of his ransom money ! James Avas in the thirtieth year of his age when he was restored to his liberty and his kingdom. Proceeding first to Edinburgh, where he celebrated tiie festival of Easter, he afterwards went on to Scone, accompanied by his queen, where they were both solemnly crowned ; Murdoch duke of Albany, as earl of Fife, performing the ceremony of installing the sovereign on the throne. Immediately after the coronation, James convoked a parliament in Perth, and by the proceedings of that assembly, gave intimation to the kingdom of the commencement of a vigorous reign. Amongst many other wise and judicious ordinations, this national council enacted, that the king's peace should be firmly held, and no private wars allowed, and that no man should travel with a greater number of retainers than he could maintain ; that a sufficient administration of law be appointed throughout the realm ; and that no extortion from churchmen or farmers in particular be admitted. James had early been impx-essed with the necessity of arresting with a vigorous and unsparing hand, the progress of that system of fraud and rapine to which the country had been a prey during the regencies that preceded his accession to the throne. A policy which, perhaps, though both necessary and just, there is some reason to believe he carried too far, or at least prosecuted with a mind not tempered by judicious and humane considerations. When first informed, on his arrival in the kingdom, of the law- lessness which prevailed in it, he is said to have exclaimed, " By the help of God, though I should myself lead tiie life of a dog, I shall make the key keep JAMES. li>5 the castle, and the bush secure the cow." Than such a resohition as this, nothing could have been wiser or more praiseworthy, and he certainly did all he could, and probably more than he ought, to accomplish the desirable end which the sentiment proposes; but he seems to have been somewhat indiscriminating in his vengeance. This indiscrimination may be only appai'ent, and may derive its character from the imperfectness of the history of that period ; but as we judge of the good by what is upon record, we are bound to judge of the bad by the same rule ; and it would be rather a singular mischance, if error and misrepresen- tation were always and exclusively on the side of the latter. It is, at any rate, certain, that a remarkable humanity, or any remarkable inclination to the side of mercy, were by no means amongst the number of James's good qualities, numer- ous though these assuredly were. With the best intentions towards the improve- ment of his kingdom, and the bettering of tiie condition ot Ins subjects, James had yet the misfortune to excite, at the connnencement of his reign, a very general feeling of dissatisfaction with his government. This, amongst the aristocracy, proceeded from the severity with which lie threatened to visit their offences ; and aiuongst the common people, from his having imposed a tax to pay the ransom money stipulated for his release from captivity. This tax Avas proposed to be levied at the rate of twelve pennies in the pound on all sorts of produce, on farms and annual rents, cattle and grain, and to continue for two years. The tax was with great diffi<',ulty collected the first year, but in the second the popular impatience and dissatisfaction became 80 general and so marked, that the king thought it advisable to abandon it; and the consequence was, as already remarked, that the debt was never discharged. The reluctance of the nation to pay the price of their prince's freedom may appear ungenerous, and as implying an indifference towards him personally ; but this is not a necessary, nor is it the only conclusion which may be inferred from the circum- stance. It it probable that they may have considered the demand of England unrea- sonable and unjust, and it certainly was both, seeing that James was no prisoner of war, but had been made captive at a time wiien the two kindoms were at peace with each other. To make him prisoner, therefore, and make him pay for it too, seems indeed to have been rather a hard case, and such it was probably eslcenied by his subjects. The policy which James proposed to adopt, was not limited to the suppression of existing evils or to the prevention of their recurrence in lime to come, but extended to the punishing of offences long since committed, and of which, in many instances, though we are told the results, we are left unin- formed of ihe crime. At the outset of his reign he had ordered the arrest of AValter, eldest son of.Murdoch, duke of Albany, the late regent, together with that of Malcolm I'leming of Cumbernauld, and Thomas Boyd of Kilmarnock; and soon afterwards, taking advantage of the <;ircumstance of a meeting of par- liament at Perth, which he had convoked probably for the purpose of bringing them within his reach, he ordered the arrest of 31urdoch himself, his second son, Alexander Stewart, the earls of Douglas, Angus, and 3Iarch, and twenty other gentlemen of note. The vengeance, however, which gave rise to this proceeding, was followed out only in the case of All)any ; at least his punishment only is recorded in the accounts given by our historians of tiiis transaction, while all the others are allowed to drop out of sight without any further notice of them in connexion with that event. Indeed the wiiole of this period of Scottish history is exceed- ingly obscure ; mtich of it is confused, inconsistent, and inexplicable, and is therefore indebted almost wholly to (;onjecture for any interest it possesses, and perhaps no portion of it is niore obscure tiian that which includes the occm-rence which has just been alluded to. The king's vengeance is said to have been 196 JAMES. exclusively aimad at Albany. Then, wherefore the .nrrest of the others? Because, it is said they were the friends of the late regent, and might have defeated the ends of justice had they been left at liberty, or at least might have been troublesome in the event of his condemnation. But how is this to be reconciled with the fact, that several of those arrested with Albany were of the jury that found him guilty on his trial, which took place a few weeks afterwards ? All that we certainly know of this matter, is, that Murdoch was committed a close prisoner to Carlaveroc castle, while his duchess, Isabella, shared a similar fate in Tantallon, and tliat the king immediately after seized upon, and took posses- sion of his castles of Falkland in Fife, and Downe in Menteith ; that soon after- wards, Albany, with his two sons, Walter and Alexander, together with the aged earl of Lennox, were brought to trial, condemned to death, and beheaded. The principal offence, so far as is known, for on tliis point also, there is much obscurity, charged against those unfortunate persons, was their having dilapi- dated the royal revenues while the king was captive in England. The fate of the two sons of the regent, who were remarkably stout and handsome young men, excited a good deal of commiseration. The moment their sentence was pronounced, they were led out to execution. Their father and Lennox were beheaded on the following day. The scene of this tragedy was a rising ground immediately adjoining Stirling castle. It is not improbable, that circumstances unknown to us may have warranted this instance of sanguinary severity on the part of the king ; but it is unfortu- nate for his memory, tliat these circumstances, if they did exist, should be unknown; for as it now stands, he cannot be acquitted of cruelty in this case, as well as some others, otherwise than by alleging, that he was incapable of inflicting an unmerited punishment, — a defence more generous than satisfactory. The parliaments, however, whicli James convoked, continued remarkable for the \visdom of their decrees, for the number of salutary laws which they enacted, and for the anxiety generally which they discovered for the prosperity of the liingdoni. Amongst the most curious of their laws is one which forbids any man who has accused another, from being of the jury on his trial ! It is not easy to conceive what were the notions of jurisprudence which permitted the existence of the practice which this statute is meant to put an end to. The allowing the accuser to be one of the jury on the trial of the person he has accused, seems an absurdity and impropriety too palpable and gross to be apologized for, even by the rudeness and barbarity of the times. Another curious statute of this period enacts, that no traveller sliall lodge with his friends, but at the common inn. The object of this was to encourage these institutions, only about tliis time first established in Scotland. They seem, however, very soon to have become popular, as it was shortly afterwards enjoined by act of parliament, that no one should remain in taverns after nine o'clock at night. This of course was meant only to apply to those who resided near the spot, and not to travellers at a distance from their homes. The subjugation of the Highlands and Isles next occupied the attention of the stern and active monarch. These districts were in the most lawless state, and neither acknowledged the authority of the parliament nor the king. AVith the view of introducing a better order of things into these savage provinces, and of bringing to condign punishment some of the most turbulent chieftains, James assembled a parliament at Inverness, and specially summoned the heads of tlie clans to attend it. The summons was obeyed, and about fifty chieftains of various degrees of note and power arrived at Inverness at the appointed time, and were all made prisoners ; amongst the rest, Alexander, lord of the Isles. Several of them were instantly beheaded after a smnuiary trial, the others were I JAMES. 197 distributed throughout the different prisons of the Icingdoni, or kept in wnrd at the castles of the nobility. The greater part of them were afterwards put to death, and the remainiler finally restored to liberty. With a degree of cruelty which tiie case does not seem to warrant, the countess of Ross, the mother of the lord of the Isles, was made a prisoner along with her son, and was long detained in captivity in the island of Inch Combe in the Firth of Forth. Alexander, after a year's confinement, \vas allowed to return to his own country, on condition that he would in future refrain from all acts of violence ; his mother in the mean time being held a hostage for liis good conduct. Equally regardless, however, of his promises and the predicament of his parent, he, soon after regaining his liberty, with a lai'ge body of followers attacked and burned the town of Inverness. James, to revenge this outrage, instantly collected an army and marched against the perpetrator, whom he over- took in the neighbourhood of Locliaber. A battle ensued, in which the lord of the Isles, who is said to have had an army of ten thousand men under iiim, was totally defeated. Humbled by this misfortune, Alexander soon after made an attempt to procure a reconciliation with the king, but failing in this, he finally resolved to throw himself upon the mercy of the sovereign. With this view he came privately to Edinburgh, and attired only in his shirt and drawers, he placed himself before the high altar of Holyrood church, and on his knees, in presence of the queen and a number of nobles, presented his naked sword to the king. For this act of humiliation and humble submission, his life was spared ; but he was ordered into close confinement in the castle of Tantallon. Some curious and interesting considerations naturally present themselves wiien contem- plating the transactions just spoken of. Amongst these a wonder is excited to find the summons of the king to the fierce, lawless chieftains of the Highlands so readily obeyed. To see them walk so tamely into the trap which was laid for them, when they must have known, from the previous character of the king, that if they once placed themselves witliin his reach, they might be assured of being subjected to punishment. Supposing, again, that they were deceived as to his intentions, and had no idea that he meant them any personal violence, but were inveigled within his power by faithless assurances ; it then becomes matter of astonishment, that in the very midst of tlieir clans, in the heart of their ow n country, and in the innnediate neighbourhood of their inaccessible retreats, the king should have been able, without meeting with any resistance, to take into custody and carry away as prisoners, no fewer than fifty powerful chieftains, and even to put some of them to death upon t!ie spot. This wonder is not lessened by finding that the lord of the Isles himself could bring into the field ten thou- sand men, while the greater part of the others could muster from five luuulred to five thousand each ; and it might be thought that, however great Mas their enmity to each other, they would have made connnon Cxiuse in such a case as this, and have all united in rescuing their chiefs from the hands of him who must have appeared their common enemy ; but no such efl'ort was made, and the whole ilighlands as it were looked quietly on and permitted their chief men to be carried away into captivity. In the midst of these somewhat inexplicHible considerations, however, tlu^re is one very evident and remarkable circumstance ; this is tlie great power of the king, which could thus enable him to enforce so sweeping an act of justice in so remote and barbarous a part of iiis kingdom ; and perhaps a more striking instance of the existence of that extraordinary power, and of terror inspired by the royal name, is not to be found in the pages of Scottish history. The parliament of James, directed evidently l)y the spirit of the monan.h, continued from time to time to enact the most salutarv laws. In 1 i"27 it was 198 JAMES. decreed, that a fine of ten pounds should be imposed upon burgesses who, being- summoned, should refuse to attend parliament, without showing satisfactory cause for their absence ; and in the same year several acts were passed for the punish- ment of murder and felony. The first of these acts, however, was repealed in the following- year, by introducing a new feature into the legislature of the king- dom. The attendance of small barons or freeholders in parliament was dispensed with, on condition that each shire sent two commissioners, whose expenses were to be paid by the freeholders. Another singular decree was also passed this year, enjoining the successors and heirs of prelates and barons to take an oath of fidelity to the queen. This was an unusual proceeding , but not an unwise one, as it was evidently a provision for the event of the king's death, should it happen during the minority of his heir and successor. It did so happen : and though history is silent on the subject, there is reason to believe that the queen enjoyed the advantage which the act intended to secure to her. In the year 1428, James wisely strengthened the Scottish alliance with France, by betrothing his eldest daughter, Margaret, but yet it« her infancy, to the dauphin, afterwards Louis XI., also at this time a mere child. This contract, however, was not carried into effect until the year 1436, when the dauphin had attained his thirteenth year, and his bride lier twelfth. The marriage eventually proved an exceedingly unhappy one. The husband of the Scottish princess was a man of the worst dispositions, and unfortunately there were others about him no less remarkable for their bad qualities. One of these, Jamet de Villy, impressed him, by tales which were afterwards proven to be false, with a suspi- cion of the dauphiness's fidelity. Though innocent, the unhappy princess was so deeply affected by the infamous accusations which were brought against her, that she took to bed, and soon after died of a brfiken heart, exclaiming before she expired, " Ah ! Jamet, Jamet, you have gained your purpose ;" such mild but affecting expressions being all that her hard fate and the malice of her ene- mies could elicit from the dying princess. Jamet was afterwards proven, in a legal investigation which took place into the cause of the death of Margaret, to be a " scoundrel" and " common liar." The death of this princess took place nine years after the marriage, and seven after the death of her father ; who, had he been alive, would not, it is probable, have permitted the treatment of his daughter to have passed without some token of his resentment. The short remaining portion of James's life, either from the defectiveness of tlie records of that period, or because they really did not occur, presents us with few events of any great importance. Amongst those worthy of any notice, are, a commercial league of one hundred years, entered into between Scotland and Flanders ; the passing of a sumptuary law, forbidding any one but lords and knights, their eldest sons and heirs, from wearing silks and furs ; a decree declaring all Scotsmen traitors Avho travel into England without the king's leave. Another enjoined all barons and lords liaving lands on the western or northern seas, particularly those opposite to the islands, to furnish a certain number of galleys, according to their tenures ; an injunction which was but little attended to. In 1431, James renewed the treaty of peace with England, then just expiring, for five years. In this year also, a desperate encounter took place at Inverlochy, between Donald Ealloch, and the earls of Mar and Caithness, in which the former was victorious. The earl of Caithness, with sixteen squires of his family, fell in this sanguinary engagement. Another conflict, still more deadly, took place about the same time in Strathnavern, between Angus Duff) chief of the Mackays of that district, and Angus Moray. There were twelve Imndred men on either side, and it is said, that on the termination of the fight there were scarcely nine left alive. JAMES. 199 James, in the mean time, proceeded with liis system of hostility to the nobles, availing himself of every opportunity which presented itself of humbling them, and of lessening their power. He tlirew into prison his own nephews, the earl of Douglas, and Sir John Kennedy, and procured the forfeiture of the estates of the earl of March. The reasons for the first act of severity are now unitnown. That for the second was, that the earl of ^larch's father had been en^aoed in rebellion against the kingdom during the regency of Albany. Tlie policy of James in arraying himself against his nobles, and maintaining an at- titude of hostility towards tliem during his reign, seems of very questionable pro- priety, to say nothing of the apparent character of unmerited severity which it assumes in many instances. He no doubt found on his arrival in the kingdom, many crimes to punish amongst that class, and much feudal tyranny to suppress; but it is not very evident that his success would have been less, or the object which he aimed at less surely accomplished, had he done this with a more lenient hand. By making the nobles liis friends in pla«;e of his enemies, he would as- suredly have estal)lished and mnintained the peace of the kingdom still more effectually than lie did. Tiiey were men, rude as they were, who would liave yielded a submission to a personal atiection for their prince, which they would, and did refuse to his authority as a ruler. James erred in aiming at governing by fear, when he should have governed by love. A splendid proof of his error in this particular is presented in the conduct of his great grand-son, James IV. who pursued a directly opposite course with regard to his nobles, and with results infinitely more favourable to the best interests of tlie kingdom. Only one event now of any moment occurs until the premature death of James ; this is the siege of Roxburgh. To revenge an attempt which had been made by the English to intercept his daughter on her way to Trance, he raised an army of, it has been computed, two hundred thousand men, and marciiing into England, besieged the castle of Roxburgii ; but after spending fifteen days before that strong- hold, and expending nearly all the missive arms in the kingdom, he was com- pelled to abandon the siege, and to return with his army williout having efl'eded any thing at all commensurate with the extent of his ])reparations, or the pro- digious force which accompanied him. The melancholy catastrophe in whicli his existence terminated was now fast approaching, — the result of his own harsh condu<;t and unforgiving disposition. The nobles, wearied out with his oppressions, seem latterly to have been re- strained only by a want of unanimity amongst themselves from revenging the in- juries they liad sustained at his liands, or by a want of individual resolution to strike the fatal blow. At length one appeared who possessed the courage neces- sary for tlie performance of tiiis desperate deed, 'ibis person was Sir Robert (iraham, uncle to the earl of Stratliern. He also had been imprisoned by James, and was therefore his enemy on personal as well as general grounds. At this crisis of the dissatisfaction of (lie noides, (iraham ofiered, in a meeting of the latter, to state their grievances to the king, and to demand the redress of these grievances, provided those wlio tiien heard him would second him in so doing. The lords accepted his oiler, and pledged themselves to support him. Accordingly, in tlie very next parliament draham rose up, and having advanced to where the king was seated, laid his hand upon his shouhler, and said ** I ar- rest you in the name of all the three estates of your realm here assembled in parliament, for as your people have sw«)rn to obey you, so are you constrained by an equal oatli to govern by law, and not to wrong your subjects, but in jus- tice to maintain and defend them." Then turning round to the assembled lords, " Is it not thus as I say ?" he exclaimed ; — but the appeal remained unan- swered. Either awed by the royal presence, or thinking that Graham had gono 200 jamp:s. too far, the lords meanly declined to afford him tlie support which they had promised him. That Graham had done a rash thing, and had said more than his colleagues meant he should have said, is scarcely an apology for their deserting him as they did in the hour of trial. They ought at least to have af- forded him some countenance, and to have acknowledged so much of his reproof as they were willing should have been administered ; and there is little doubt that a very large portion of its spirit was theirs also, although they seem to have lacked the courage to avow it. Graham was instantly ordered into confinement, and was soon after deprived of all liis possessions and estates, and banished the kingdom. Brooding over his misfortunes, and breathing vengeance against him who was the cause of them, the daring exile retired to the remotest parts of the Highlands, and there arranged and perfected his plans of revenge. He first wrote letters to the king, renouncing his allegiance and defying his wrath, up- braiding him with being the ruin of himself, his wife, and his children, and concluded with declaring that he would put him to death with his own hand, if opportunity should oftei*. The answer to these threats and defiances was a pro- clamation Avhich the king immediately issued, promising three thousand demies of gold, of the value of half an English noble each, to any one Avho should bring in Graham dead or alive. The king's proclamation, however, was attended with no effect. The ob- ject of it not only remained in safety in liis retreat, but proceeded to mature the schemes of vengeance which he meditated against his sovei-eign. He opened a correspondence with several of the nobility, in whicli he unfolded the treason which he designed, and offered to assassinate the king with liis own hand. The general dislike which was entertained for James, and which was by no means confined to the aristocracy, for his exactions had rendered his govern- ment obnoxious also to the common people, soon procured for Graham a. powerful co-operation ; and the result was, that a regular and deep-laid con- spiracy, and which included even some of tlie king's most familiar domestics, was speedily formed. In the mean time , the king, unconscious of the fate which was about to overtake him, had removed with his court to Perth to celebrate the festival of Christmas. While on his way thither, according to popular tradition, he was accosted by a soothsayer^ who forewarned him of the disaster which was to happen him. " My lord king," she said, for it was a prophetess who spoke, " if ye pass this water," (the Forth) " ye shall never return again alive." Ihe king is said to have been much struck by the oracular intimation, and not the less so that he had read in some prophecy a short while before, that in that year a king of Scotland should be slain. The monarch, however, did not himself deign on this occasion to interrogate the soothsayer as to what she meant, but deputed the task to one of the knights, whom he desired to turn aside and liold some conversation with her. This gentleman soon after rejoined the king, and representing the prophetess as a foolish inebriated woman, recommended to his majesty to pay no attention to wliat she liad said. Accordingly no further notice seems to have been taken of the circumstance. The royal party crossed the water and arrived in safety at Perth ; the king, with his family and domestics, taking up his residence at the Dominicans' or Blackfriai's' monastery. The conspirators, in the mean time, fully informed of his motions, had so far com- pleted their arrangements as to have fixed the night on which he should be as- sassinated. This was, according to some authorities, the night of the second Wednesday of lent, or the 27th day of February ; by others, the first Wednes- day of lent, or between the twentieth or twenty-first of that month, in the year 14.37 ; and the latter is deemed the more accurate date. James spent the earlier JAMES, 201 part of the evening in playing cliess with one of his knights, whom, for liis remark- able devotion to the fair sex lie humorously nicknamed the King of Love. ihe king was in high spirits during the progress of the game, and indulged in a number of jokes at the expense of his brother king; but the dark hints which he had had of his fate, seemed, as it were in spite of himself, to have made an impres- sion upon liim, and \vere always present to him even in his merriest moods, and it was evidently under this feeling tliat he said — more in earnest than in joke, though he endeavoured to give it the latter character — to his antagonist in the game, " Sir King of Love, it is not long since 1 read a prophecy which foret-ild that in this year a king should be slain in this land, and ye know well, sir, that there are no kings in this realm but you and I. I therefore advise you to look carefully to your own safety, for I give you warning that I shall see that mine is sufficiently provided for." Shortly after this a number of lords and knigiits thronged into the king's chamber, and the mirth, pastime, and joke Avent on with increased vigour. In the midst of the revelry, however, the king received another warning of his approaching fate. " My lord," said one of his favourite squires, tempted probably by the light tone of the conversation Avhich was going forward, " I have dreamed that Sir Robert Graham should have slain you." The earl of Orkney, who was present, rebuked the squire for the impropriety of his speech, but the king, differently affected, said that he himself had dreamed a terrible dream on the very night of which his attendant spoke. In the mean time, the night wore on, and all still remained quiet in and around the monastery ; hut at this very moment, Graham, witli three hundred fierce Highlanders, was lurking in the neighbourhood, waiting the midnight hour to break in upon the ill-fated monarch. The mirth and pastime in the king's chamber continued until supper was served, probably about nine o'clock at night. As the hour of this repast approached, however, all retired ex- cepting the earl of Athol and Robert Stuart, the king's nephew, and one of his greatest favourites, — considerations which could not bind him to the unfortu- nate monarch, for he too was one of the conspirators, and did more than any one of them to facilitate the murderous intentions of his colleagues, by destroy- ing the fastenings of the king's chamber door. After supper the amusements of the previous part of the evening were resumed, and chess, music, singing, and the reading of romances, wiled away the next two or three hours. On this fatal evening another circumstance occurred, which might have aroused the suspicions of the king, if lie had not been most unac("ountably insensible to the frequent hints and indirect intimations which he had received of some imminent peril hang- ing over liim. The same woman who had ac(;osted him before crossing the hrth again appeared, and knocking at his chamber door at a late hour of the night, sought to be adniitted to the presence of the king. " Tell him," she said to the usher who came forth from the apartment when she knocked, " ihat I am the same woman who not long ago desired to si)eak with him when he was about to cross the sea, and that I have something to say to him." Tlie usher immediate- ly conveyed the message to the king, but he being wholly engrossed by the game in which he was at the instant engaged, merely ordered her to return on the morrow. " Well," replied the disappointed soothsayer, as she at the first interview affected to be, " ye shall all of you repent that I was not permitted just now to speak to the king." 'Ihe usher latigiiing at what he conceived to be the expiessions of a fool, ordered the woman to begone, and she obeyed. 'Ihe night was now wearing late, and the king, liaving put an end to the evening's amusements, called for the parting cup. This drunk, the party broke up, and James retired to his bed-chamber, where he found the queen and tier ladies amusing themselves with cheerful conversation. The king, now in his in. 2 c 202 JAMES. night-gown tind slippers, placed himself before the fire, and joined in the badinage which was going forward. At this moment the king was suddenly startled by a great noise at the outside of his chamber door, or rather in the passage which led to it. The sounds were those of a crowd of armed men pressing hurriedly forward. There was a loud clattering and jingling of arms and armour, accompanied by the gleaming of torches. The king seems to have instantly apprehended danger, a feeling which either he had communicated to the ladies in the apartment, or they had of tiiemselves conceived, for they im- mediately rushed to the door with the view of securing it, but they found all the fastenings destroyed, and a bar which should have been there removed. This being intimated to the king, he called out to the ladies to hold fast the door as well as they could, until he could find something wherewith to defend himself; and he flew to the window of the apartment and endeavoured to wrench away one of the iron staunchions for tiiis purpose, but the bar resisted all his efforis. In this moment of horror and despair, the unhappy monarch next seized the tongs, which lay by the fireside, and by their means, and with some desperate efforts of personal strength, he tore up a portion of the floor, and instantly descend- ing through the aperture into a mean receptacle which was underneath the cham- ber, drew the boards down after him to their original position. In the mean time the ladies had contrived to keep out the conspirators, and, in this effort, it is said, Catharine Douglas had one of her arms broken, by having thrust it into the wall in place of the bar which had been removed. The assassins, however, at length forced their way into the apartment ; and here a piteous scene now ensued. The queen stood in the middle of the floor, bereft of speech and of all power of motion by her terror, while her ladies, several of whom were severely hurt and wounded, filled the apartment with the most lamentable cries and shrieks. One of the ruflians on entering inflicted a severe wound on the queen, and would have killed her outright, but for the interference of one of the sons of Sir Robert Graham, Avho, perceiving the dastard about to repeat the blow, exclaimed " What would ye do to the queen ? for shame of yourself, she is but a woman ; let us go and seek the king." The conspirators, who were all armed with swords, daggers, axes, and other weapons, now proceeded to search for the king. They examined all the beds, presses, and other probable places of concealment, overturned forms and chairs, but to no purpose : the king could not be found, nor could they conceive how he had escaped them. The conspirators, baulked in their pursuit, dispersed themselves throughout the different apartments to extend their search. This creating a silence in the apartment inniiediately above the king, the unfortunate monarch conceived the conspirators had entirely withdrawn, and in his impatience to get out of his disagreeable situation, called out to the ladies to bring him sheets for that purpose. In the attempt which immediately followed to raise him up by these means, Elizabeth Douglas, another of the queen's wait- ing-maids, fell into the hole in which the king was concealed. At this moment, Thomas Chambers, one of the assassins, and who was also one of the king's domestics, entered the apartment, and perceiving the opening in the floor, he immediately proceeded towards it, and looking down into the cellar, with the assistance of his torch discovered the king. (Jn descrying the object of his search. Chambers exultingly called out to his companions, " Sirs, the bride is found for whom we sought, and for whom we have caroled here all night." The joyful tidings instantly brought a crowd of the conspirators to the spot, and amongst the rest, Sir John Hall, who, with a large knife in his hand, hastily descended to the king's hiding-place. The latter, however, who was a man of great personal strength, instantly seized the assassin and threw him down at his feet ; and his brother, who followed, shared JAMES. 203 the same treatment — the king holding them both by their throats, and with such a powerful grasp, that they bore marks of the violence for a month afterwards. The unfortunate monarch now endeavoured to wrest their knives from the assas- sins, and in the attempt liad his hands severely cut and mangled. Sir Robert (iraham, who had hitherto been merely looking on, now seein"- that the Halls could not accomplish the murder of the king, also descended, and with a drawn sword in his hand. Unable to cope with Ihem all, and exhausted with the fearful struggle which he had maintained with the two assassins ; wea- ponless and disabled in his hands, the king implored (iraham for mercy. " Cruel tyrant," replied the regicide, " thou hadsl never mercy on thy kindred nor on others who fell within thy power, and therefore, thou shalt have no mercy from me." " Then I beseech thee, for the salvation of my soul, that thou wilt permit me to have a confessor," said the miserable prince. " Thou shalt have no confessor but the sword," replied Graham, thrusting his victim through the body with his weapon. The king fell, but the stroke was not instantly fatal. He continued in the most piteous tones to supplicate mercy from his murderer, offering him half his kingdom if he would but spare his life. The heart-rending appeals of the hapless monarch shook even (jraliam's resolution, and he was nbout to desist from doing him further injury, when his intentions being per- ceived liy the conspirators from above, they called out to him that if he did not comp'ete the deed, he should himself sulfer death at their hands. Urged on by this threat, the three assassins again attacked the king, and finally despatched him, having inflicted sixteen deadly wounds on his chest, besides others on different parts of his body. As if every circumstance which could facilitate his death had conspired to secure that event, it happened that the king, some days before he was murdered, had directed that an aperture in the place where lie had concealed himself, and by ^vhicll he might have escaped, should be built up, as the balls with which he played at tennis in the court yard were apt to be ]ost in it After completing the murder of the king, the assassins sought for the queen, whom, dreading her vengeance, they proposed to put also to death ; but she had escaped. A rumour of the tragical scene that was enacting at the monastery having spread through the town, great numbers of the citizens and of the king's servants, with arms and torches hastened to the spot, but too late, to the assistance of tlie murdered monarcii. The conspirators, however, all escaped for the time, excepting one, who was killed by Sir Uavid Dunbar, who had him- self three fingers cut o!f in the contest. This brave knight had alone attacked the flying conspirators, but was overpowered and left disabled. In less than a month, such was the activity of the queen's vengeance, all the principal actors in this appalling tragedy were in custody, and were after- wards put to the most horrible deaths. Stuart and Chambers, who were tlie first taken, were drawn, hanged, and quartered, having been previously lacerated all over with sharp instrinnents. (iraiiam was carried through the streets of Edin- burgh in a cart, in a state of perfect nudity, with his right hand nailed to an upright post, and surrounded with men, who, with sharp hooks and knives, and red hot irons, kept constantly tearing at and burning his miserable body, until he was completely covered with \vounds. Having undergone this, he was again thrown into prison, and on the following day brought out to execution. The wretched man had, when released from his tortures, \vrapped himself in a coarse woollen Scottish plaid, which adhering to his wounds, caused hiui much pain in the removal. When this operation was performed, and it was done with no gentle hand, the miserable surierer fainted, and ("ell to the ground with the agony. On recovering, ^vhich he did not do for nearly a quarter of an hour, he said to those around him, that the rude manner in which the mantle had 204 JAMES. been reraoved, had given him greater pain than any he had yet suffered. To increase the horrors of liis situation, his son was distnibowelled ahve before his face. James I. perished in the forty-fourth year of his age, after an actual reign of thirteen years. His progeny were, a son, his successor, and five daughters. These were, iMargaret, married to the dauphin ; Isabella, to Francis, duke of Bretagne ; Eleanor, to Sigismund, archduke of Austria ; Mary, to the count de Boucquan ; and Jean, to the earl of Angus, afterwards earl of 3Iorton. JAMES IV., king of Scots, was the eldest son of James III. by Margaret, (Laughter of Christiern, king of Denmark ; and was born in the month of March, 1472. Of the manner of his education no record has been pi*eserved ; but it was probably good, as his father, whatever might be his faults, appears to have been a monarch of considerable taste and refinement. In the year 1488, a large party of nobles rebelled against James III. on account of various arbi- trary proceedings with which they were displeased ; and the king, on going to the noi-th to raise an army for their suppression, left his son, the subject of the present memoir, in the keeping of Shaw of Sauchie, governor of Stirling castle. Winle the liing was absent, the confederate nobles prevailed on Shaw to sur- render his charge ; and the prince was then set up as their nominal, but, it would appear, involuntary leader. The parties met, July 11, at Sauchie, near Stirling ; and the king fell a victim to the resentment of his subjects. The subject of the present memoir then mounted the throne, in the sixteenth year of his age. Neither the precise objects of this rebellion, nor tlie real nature of the prince's concern in its progress and event, are distinctly known. It is certain, however, that James IV. always considered himself as liable to the vengeance of heaven for his share, voluntary or involuntary, in his father's death ; and ac- cordingly wore a penitential chain round his body, to which he added new weight every year ; and even contemplated a still more conspicuous expiation of his supposed ofl^ence, by undertaking a new crusade. Whatever miglit be the guilt of the prince, the nation had certainly no cause to regret the death of James III., except the manner in which it was accomplished, while they had every thing to hope from the generous young monarch who was his successor. James possessed in an eminent degree evei'y quality necessary to render a sove- reign beloved by his subjects ; and pei'haps no prince ever enjoyed so large a portion of personal regard, of intense affection, as did James IV. of Scotland. His manner was gentle and affable to all who came in contact with him, whatever miglit be their rank or degree. He was just and impartial in his decrees, yet never in- flicted punishment without strong and visible I'eluctance. He listened willingly and readily to admonition, and never discovered either impatience or resentment while his errors were placed before him. He took every thing in good part, and endeavoured to amend the faults pointed out by his advisers. He was generous, even to a fault ; magnificent and princely in all his habits, pursuits, and amusements. His mind was acute, and dignified, and noble. He excelled in all warlike exercises and manly accomplishments ; in music, horsemanship, and the use of sword and spear. Nor was his personal appearance at variance with this elevated character. His form, which ^vas of the middle size, was ex- ceedingly handsome, yet stout and muscular, and his countenance had an ex- pression of mildness and dignity that instantly predisposed all who looked upon it to a strong attachment to its possessor. His bravery, like his generosity, was also in the extreme : it was romantic. Altogether, he was unquestionably the most chivalrous prince of his day in Europe. A contemporary poet bears testimony to this part of his diaracter : — JAMES. 205 " And ye Christian princes, whosoever yo be, If ye be destitute of a noble captayne, Take James of Scotland for his audacitie And proved manhood, if ye will laude attajne ; Let him. have the forwarde, have ye no dis:layne, Nor indignation ; for never king was borne 'I'liat of ought of warr can sliowe the unicorne. For if that he lake once his speare in hand, Against these Turkes strongly with it to ride, None shall be able his stroke for to withstands' Nor before his face so hardy to abide ; Yet this his manhood increaseth not his pride, But ever sheweth be meknes and huniilitie. In word or dede, to h3e and lowe degree. " A neglected education left him almost totally ignorant of letters, but not without a high relish for their beauties. He delighted in poetry, and possessed a mind attuned to all its finer sympathies. The design of the rebel lords in taking arms against their sovereio^n, James III., being merely to free themselves from his weak and tyrannical government, without prejudice to his heirs, his son James IV. was, innnediately after the death of his father, proclaimed king, and was formally invested with tliat dig- nity at Scone. However violent and unlawful were the proceedings which thus prematurely elevated James to tiie throne, the nation soon felt a benefit from the change wlu»'h these proceedings eflected, that could scarcely have been looked for from an administration oi-iginating in rebellion and regicide. The several parliaments which met after the accession of the young liing, passed a number of wise and salutary laws, encouraging trade, putting down turbulence and faction, and enjoining the strict execution of justice throughout tlie kingdom. The prince and his nobles placed the most implicit confidence in each other, and the people in both. This good understanding with the former, the kino- encouraged and promoted, by inviting them to frequent tournaments and oilier amusements, and warlike exercises, in accordance with his own cliivalrous spirit, and aflapted to their rude tastes and habits. These tournaments were exceed- ingly splendid, and were invested with all the romance of the briglitest days oi" chivalry. Ladies, lords, and knights, in the most gorgeous attire crowded round the lists, or from draperied balconies, witnessed the combats that took place within them. James himself always presided on these occasions, and often exhibited his own prowess in the lists; and there were few who could success- fully compete with him wilh spear, sword, or battle axe. Stranger Ivniahts from distant countries, attracted by the chivalric fame of the Scottish comt, fre- quently attended and took part in these tournaments, but, it is said, did not in many instances prove themselves better men at their weapons tlian the Scottish knights. One of the rules of these encounters was, that the victor should be put in possession of his opponent's weapon ; but when this was a spear, a purse of gold, a gift from the king, was attached to tJie point of iL These trophies were delivered to the conqueror by the monarch himself. The people were delighted wilh these magnificent and warlike exliibitions, and with their generous and chivalrous author. Nor were the actors themselves, the nobles, less gratified with them, or less aflected by the high and princely spirit whence they emanated. They brought them into frequent and familiar contact with their sovereign, and nothing more was necessary in the case of James to attach them warmly and de- votedly to his person. His kind and afl'able manner accomplished the rest. 206 JAMES. By such means he was not only without a single enemy amongst the aristo- cracy, but all of them would liave shed the last drop of their blood in his defence, and a day came when nearly all of them did so. In short, the wisest policy could not have done more in uniting the affections of prince and peers, than was accomplished by those warlike pastimes, aided as they were by the amiable manners of the monarch. Not satisfied with discharging his duty to his subjects, from his high place on the throne, .Tames frequently descended, and disguising his person — a practice to which his successor was also much addicted — roamed through the country un- armed and unattended, inquiring into his own reputation amongst the common people, and endeavouring to learn what faults himself or his government were charged with. On these occasions he lodged in the meanest hovels, and en- couraged the inmates to speak their minds freely regarding their king; and there is little doubt, that, as his conduct certainly merited it, so he must have been frequently gratified by their replies. The young monarch, however, was charged with stepping aside occasionally in his rambles from this laudable though somewhat romantic pursuit, and paying visits to any of his fair acquain- tances whose residence happened to be in his way 5 and it is alleged that he con- trived they should very ofien be so situated. Unfortunately for his courtiers, James conceived that he possessed, and not improbably actually did possess considerable skill in surgery and medicine, but there is reason to believe, that the royal surgeon's interference in cases of ail- ment was oftener dreaded than desired, although Lindsay says, that " thair was none of that profession (the medical) if they had any dangerous cure in hand but would have craved his adwyse." Compliments, however, to a king's excellence in any art or science are always suspicious, and this of Lindsay's is not associated with any circumstances which should give it a claim to exemption from such a feeling. One of the greatest faults of the young monarch was a rashness and im- petuosity of temper. This frequently led him into ill-timed and ill-judged hos- tilities with the neighbouring kingdom, and, conjoined with a better quality, his generosity, induced him to second the pretensions of the impostor Perkin Warbeck to the crown of England. That adventurer arrived at James's court (1496), attended by a numerous train of followers, all attired in magnificent habits, and sought the assistance of the Scottish king to enable him to recover what he represented as his birth-right. Prepossessed by the elegant man- ner and noble bearing of the impostor, and readily believing the story of his misfortunes, which was supported by plausible evidence, the generous monarch at once received him to his arms, and not only entertained him for some time at his court, but, much against the will of his nobles, mustered an army, and, with Warbeck in his company, marched at the head of it into England, to reinstate his protege in what he believed to be his right, at the point of the sword, — a project much more indicative of a warm and generous heart, tlian of a prudent head. The enterprise, as might have been expected, was un- successful. James had counted on a rising in England in behalf of the pre- tender, but being disappointed in this, he was compelled to abandon the attempt and to return to Holyrood. The king of England did not retaliate on James this invasion of his kingdom ; but he demanded from him the person of the im- postor. With this request, however, the Scottish king was much too magnanimous to comply ; and he not oidy refused to accede to it, i)ut furnished Warbeck with vessels and necessaries to carry him to Ireland, whither lie now proceeded. James is fully relieved from the charge of credulity which might appear to lie against him for so readily confiding in Warbeck's representations, by the extreme JAMES. 207 plausibility wliich was atUiclied to them, and by the strongly corroborative cir- cumstances by which they were attended. He is also as entirely relieved from the imputation of conniving in the imposture — an accusation which has been insinuated against him — by the circumstance of his having given a near relation of his own, Catharine Gordon, a daughter of lord Huntly's, in marriage to the impostor, which it cannot for a moment be believed he would have done had he known the real character of WarbecU. The species of roving life which the young monarch led, was now about to be circumscribed, if not wholly terminated, by his entering into the married state. This he avoided as long as he possibly could, and contrived to escape from it till he had attained the thirtieth year of his age. Henry of England, however, who had always been move desirous of James's friendship than his hos- tility, and had long entertained views of securing the former by a matrimonial connexion with his family, at length succeeded in procuring James's consent to marry his daughter Margaret, an event which took place in 1503. Whatever reluctance the monarcli might have had to resign his liberty, he was not wanting in gallantry to his fair partner when she came to claim it. He first waited upon her at Newbattle, where he entertained her with his own per- formance on the claricliords and lute, listened to specimens of her own skill in the same art on bended knee, and altogether conducted himself like a true and faithful kniglit. He also exhibited a care and elegance in his diess on this oc- casion, sufficiently indicative of his desire to please. He was arrayed in a black velvet jacket, bordered with crimson velvet, and furred with white ; and when he afterwards conducted his bride from Dalkeith to Edinburgh, which he did, strange to tell, seated on horseback behind him, he appeared in a jacket of cloth of gold, bordered with purple velvet, furred with black, a doublet of violet satin, scarlet hose, the collar of his shirt studded with precious stones and pearls, with long gilt spurs projecting from th.; heels of his boots. By the terms of the marriage contract, the young queen, who was only in her fourteenth year when she was wedded to James, was to be conducted to Scotland at the expense of her father, and to be delivered to her husband or to persons appointed by him, at Lamberton kirk. The latter was to receive \vilh her a dowry of thirty thousand pieces of gold ; ten thousand to be paid at Edinburgh eight days after the marriage, other ten thousand at Coldingham a year afterwards, and the last ten thousand at the expiry of the year following. The marriage was celebrated with the utmost splendour and pomp. Feastings, tourneyings, and exhibitions of shows and pLiys, succeeded each other in one continued and uninterrupted round for many days, James himself appearing in the lists at the tournaments in the character of the " Savage Kniglit." 15ut there is no part of the details of the various entertainments got up on this oc- casion that intimates so for<;ibly tlie barbarity of the times, as tlie information that real encounters between a party of Highlanders and IJorderers, in which the combatants killed and mangled each other with their weapons, were exhibited for the amusement of the spectators. A more grateful and more lasting memorial of the happy event of James's marriage than any of these, is to be found in Dunbar's beautiful allegorical poem, the " Thistle and the Rose,'' composed on that occasion, and thus aptly and emblematically entitled from the union being one between a Scottish king and English princess. In this poem, Dunbar, who then resided at the court, hints at the monarch's character of being a somewhat too general admirer of the fair sex, by reconunending him to reserve all his afiections for his queen. " Nor hauld no other flower in sic deiily As the fresche rose, of cullor reid and white •, 208 JAMES. For gif thou dois, hurt is thine honesty, Considderlng that no flower is so perf) t. " It is said to have been at the rude but magnificent court of this nionarch, that the character of a Scottish courtier first appeared ; this class, so numerous at all the other courts of Europe, hiiving been hitherto unknown in Scotland. These raw courtiers, however, made rapid progress in all the acquirements necessary to their profession, and began to cultivate all their winning ways, and to pay all that attention to their exterior appearance, on which so much of the hopes of the courtier rests. A finely and largely ruffled shirt, the especi.xl boast and delight of the ancient Scottish courtier, a flat little bonnet, russet hose, perfumed gloves, embroidered slippers that glittered in the sun or with candle light, a handkerchief also perfumed and adorned with a golden tassel at each corner, uith garters knotted into a huge rose at the knee — were amongst the most re- markable parts of the dress of the hangers-on at the court of James IV. In one important particular, however, these gentlemen seemed to have wonderfully re- sembled the courtier of the present day. " Na Kindness at Court without Sil- ler," is the title of a poem by Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington, who had every opportunity of knowing personally what was the character of that ot his native sovereign. One of the stipulations of the marriage treaty between the king and the daughter of Henry the VII., having secured an inviolable peace between the two monarchs and their subjects, the nation enjoyed for several years after that event the most profound tranquillity. This leisure James employed in improving the civil polity of his kingdom; in making efforts to introduce civilization, and an obedience to the laws, into the Highlands and Isles, by establishing courts of jus- tice at Inverness, Dingwall, and various other places throughout these remote districts ; in enlarging and improving his navy, and, in short, in doing every thing that a wise prince could do to promote the prosperity of his kingdom. In all these judicious proceedings, James was cordially supported by his parliament, a department of the legislature in which he was perhaps more fortunate than any of his predecessors had ever been, and certainly more than were any of his innnediate successors. The acts of the parliament of James are distinguished by the most consummate wisdom, and by a constant aiming at the improvement and prosperity of the kingdom, whether by suppressing violence, establishing rules for the dispensation of justice, or in encouraging commerce ; and they are no less I'emarkable for a spirit of coi'diality towards the sovereign, amount- ing to a direct and personal affection, which breathes throughout the whole. How much of this good feeling, and of this happy co-operation in good works, depended upon the king, and how much upon the parliaments themselves, it would not be easy to determine, but it is certain, that much of the merit which attaches to it must be awarded to the sovereign. This peaceful and prosperous state of the kingdom, however, after enduring for upwards of nine years, at length drew to a close, and finally terminated in one of the most disastrous events recorded in the pages of her history. Henry VII. died, and was succeeded by Henry VIII. Besides the change which this occurrence effected in the relationship between the sovereigns of England and Scotland, the feelings and policy of the new monarch towards the latter kingdom were totally dissimilar to those of his predecessor. He seems, indeed, to have brought with him to the throne a feeling of hostility towards Scotland ; and this feeling, the sensitive, warm tempered, and impetuous monarch, against whom it was entertained, was not long in discovering. The consequence was, that, after some sligiit nuitual offences, whicli, under any other circumstances, might have been easily atoned for, war was proclaimed between the two king- JAMES. 209 donis, and both made the most formidable preparations for deciding their differ- ences on tlie field of battle. James summoned the whole array of his kingdom, including all the western isles and the most remote parts of tlie Highlands, to assemble on the Burrow muir within t^venty days, eacli, as was usual on such oc- casions, to come provided with forty days' provisions. Though the impending war was deprecated by James's council, and was by all considered imprudent, yet such was his popularity, such the general affection for the high-spirited and generous monarcli, that no less" than one hundred thousand men appeared in arms at the place of muster ; disapproving, indeed, of the object for which they were brought together, but determined to shed the last drop of their blood in their sovereign's quarrel — because it was his, and because he had determined on bringing it to the issue of the sword. Deeply imbued with the superstition of the period, James spent much of his time, immediately before setting out with his army, in the perfoi-mance of religious rites and observances. On one of these occasions, and within a few days of his marching on his expedition, a circimi- stance occui-red which the credulity of the times has represented as supernatural, but in which it is not difficult to detect a design to work on the superstitious feai-s of the king, to deter hira from proceeding on his intended enterprise. ^^ hile at his devotions in the church of Linlithgow, a figure, clothed in a blue gown secured by a linen girdle and wearing sandals, suddenly appeared in the church, and calling loudly for the king, passed thi'ough the crowd of nobles, by whom he was surrounded, and finally approached the desk at which his majesty was seated at his devotions. Without making any sign of reverence or respect for the royal presence, the mysterious visitor now stood full before the king, and delivered a commission as if from the other world. He told him that his expedition would terminate disastrously, advised him not to proceed with it, and cautioned him against the indulgence of illicit amours. The king was about to reply, but the spectre had disappeared, and no one could tell how. The figure is represented as having been that of an elderly grave-looking man, with a bald uncovered head, and straggling grey locks resting on his shoulders. There is little doubt that it was a stratagem of the queen's, and that the lords who sur- rounded the king's person were in the plot. Some other attempts of a similar kind were made to alarm the monarch, and to deter him from his purpose, but in vain. Neither superstition nor the ties of natural afTection could dissuade him from taking the field. Resisting all persuasion, and even the tears and en- treaties of his queen, who, amongst the other arguments which her grief for the probable fate of her husband suggested, urged that of liie helpless state of their infant son ; the gallant but infatuated monarch took his place at the head of his army, put the vast array in marching order, and proceeded on that expedition from which he was never to return. The Scottish army having passed the Tweed began hostilities by taking some petty forts and castles, and amongst the latter that of Ford; here the monarcli found a 3Irs Heron, a lady of remarkable beauty, and whose husband was at that time a prisoner in Scotland. Captivated by this lady's attractions — while his natural son, the archbishop of St Andrex.s, who accompanied him, acknowledged those of her daughter — James spent in Jier society that time wliich he should have employed in active service with his army. The consequence of this inconceivable folly was, thnt his soldiers, left unem- ployed, and disheartened by a tedious delay, gradually withdrew from his camp and returned to their homes, until his army was at length reduced to little more than thirty thousand men. A sense of honour, however, still detained in his ranks all the noblemen and gentlemen who had hist joinetl them, and tiuis a dispro- portionate number of the aristocracy remained to fall in the fatal field whicii was soon afterwards fought. In the mean time the earl of Surrey, lieutenont- ui. 2 o 210 JAMES. general of the northern counties of England, advanced towards the position oc- cupied by James's forces, with an army of thirty-one thousand men. On the 7th of September, 1513, the latter encamped at Woolerhaugh, within five miles of Flodden hill, the ground on which the Scottish army Avas encamped. On the day following they advanced to Banmore wood, distant about two miles from the Scottish position, and on the 9th presented themselves in battle array at the foot of Flodden hill. The Scottish nobles endeavoured to pi'evail upon the king not to expose his person in the impending encounter, but he rejected the proposal with disdain, saying, that to outlive so many of his bi'ave country- men would be more terrible to him than death itself. Finding they could not dissuade him from his purpose of sharing in the dangers of the approaching fight, they had recourse to an expedient to lessen the chances of a fatal result. Selecting several persons who bore a resemblance to him in figure and stature, they clothed them in a dress exactly similar to that worn by the monarch, and dispersed them throughout the ranks of the army. The English army, when it presented itself to the Scots, was drawn up in three large divisions ; Surrey commanding that in the centre. Sir Edward Stanley and Sir Edmund Howard those on the right and left, while a large body of cavalry, commanded by Dacre, was posted in the rear. The array of the Scots was made to correspond to this disposition, the king himself leading on in person the division opposed to that commanded by Surrey, while the earls of Lennox, Argyle, Crawford, Montrose, Huntly, and Home, jointly commanded those on his right and left. A body of cavah'y, corresponding to that of Dacre 's, under Bothwell, was posted imme- diately behind the king's division. Having completed their dispositions, the Scots, with their long spears levelled for the coming strife, descended from the hill, and were soon closed with the enemy. The divisions commanded by Huntly and Home, on the side of the Scots, and by Howard on the side of the English, first met, but in a few minutes more all the opposing divisions came in contact with each other, and the battle became general. The gallant but imprudent monarch himself, with his swoi-d in his hand, and surrounded by a band of his no less gallant nobles, was seen fighting desperately in the front of his men, and in the very midst of a host of English bill-men. After various turns of fortune, the day finally terminated in favour of the English, though not so decisively as to assure them of their success, for it was not till the following day, that Surrey, by finding the field abandoned by the Scots, ascertained that he had gained the battle. In this sanguinary conflict, which lasted for three hours, having commenced at four o'clock in the afternoon and continued till seven, there perished twelve earls, thirteen lords, five eldest sons of peers, about fifty gentlemen of rank and family, several dignitaries of the church, and about ten thousand common men. Amongst the churchmen who fell, were the king's natural son, the archbishop of St Andrews, Hepburn, bishop of the Isles, and the abbots of Kilwinning and Inchaflray. James him- self fell amidst a heap of his slaughtered nobles, mortally wounded in the head by an English bill, and pierced in the body with an arrow. It was long be- lieved by the common people that the unfortunate monarch had escaped fi-om the field, and that he had gone on a pilgrimage to Palestine, where tradition represented him to have ended his days in prayer and penitence for his sins, and especially for that of his having borne arms against his father. This belief was strengthened by a rumour that he had been seen between Kelso and Uunse after the battle was fought. That he actually fell at Flodden, however, has been long since put beyond all doubt, and the fate of his body is singular. It appears to have been carried to London, and to have been embalmed there, but by whom or by whose orders is unknown. In the reign of Elizabeth, some JAMES. 211 sixty or seventy years afterwards, the shell in whicli the body was deposited, and still containing it, was found in a garret amongst a quantity of lumber by a slater while repairing the roof of a house. The body was still perfectly en- lire, and emitted a pleasant fragrance from the strong aromas which had been employed in its preservation. Looking on it as a great curiosity, though un- aware whose remains it was, the slater chopped off the head, carried it home with him, and kept it for several years. Such was the fate of the mortal part of the noble-minded, the high-souled monarch, James IV. of Scotland. He was in the forty-lh-st year of his age, and the twenty-sixth of his reign, when he fell on Flodden field. At this distance of time, every thing relating to that celebrated, but calamitous contest — the most calamitous recorded in the pages of Scottish history — possesses a deep and peculiar interest ; but of all the memorials Avhich have reached us of that fatal event, there is not one perhaps so striking and impressive as the pro- clamation of the authorities of Edinburgh. The provost and magistrates were in the ranks of the king's army, and had left the management of the town's af- fairs in the hands of deputies. On the day after the battle was fought, a rumour had reached the city that the Scottish army had met with a disaster, and the following proclamation — the one alluded to — was in consequence is- sued. The hopes, fears, and doubts which it expresses, now that all such feel- ings regarding the event to which it refers have long since passed away, cannot be contemplated without a feeling of deep and melancholy interest. " The 10th day of September the year above written, (1513) we do zow to witt. Foras- meikle as thair is ane grait rumour now laitlie rysin within this toun, touching cure soverane lord and his army, of the quhilk we understand thair is cum in na veritie as yet. Quhairfore we charge straitely, and conunandis in oure said soverane lord the kingis name, and the presidentis for the provost and bail- lies within this burgh, that all manner of personis, nychtbours within the samyn, have riddye thair fensabill geir and wappenis for weir, and compeir thairwith to the said presidents at jowing of the commoun bell, for the keiping and defense of the toun aganis thame that wald invaid the samin. And als chairgis tiiat all wemen, and especiallie vagaboundis, that thai pass to thair labouris and be nocht sene upoun the gait clamorand and cryand, under the pane of banising of thair personis, but favouris, and (Jiat the uther women of gude re- pute pass to the kirk and pray quhane tyme requiris for our soverane lord, and his army and nychtbours being thairat, and hald thame at thair previe labouris of the gait within thair housis as etTeris." James left behind him only one legitimate child, James V. His natural issue were, Alexander, born eight months after his father's death, and who died in the second year of his age ; Alexander, archbishop of St Andrews; (Catharine, Medded to the earl of IMorton ; James, earl of Murray ; Margaret, wedded to the lieir of Huntly ; and Jean, married to 3Ialc(dm, lord Fleming, JAMES V. of Scotland, son of James IV., and of Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry VH., king of England, was born at Linlithgow in the month of April, 1512. This prince, on the death of his father, was not more than a year and a half old. The nation had, therefore, to look forward to a long minority, and to dread all the evils which in these turbulent times were certain to attend a pro- tracted regency. Scarcely any event could have been more disastrous to Scotland, than tiie premature death of James IV. The loss of the battle of Flodden, the innnense number of Scottish noblemen and gentlemen who fell in that fatal field, were calamities of no ordinary magnitude ; but the death of James himself was more tatal to the peace and prosperity of the kingdom than all. By the latter even'., 212 JAMES. Scotland was thrown open to foreign influence and intrigue, and left to the ferocious feuds of its own turbulent and warlike chieftains, who did not fail to avail themselves of the opportunity which tlie death of the monarch afforded them, of bringing their various private quarrels to the decision of the sword. It might have been expected, that the overwhelming disaster of Flodden field, which brought grief and mourning into almost every house of note in the land by the loss of some member of its family, would have extinguished, for a time at least, all pei-sonal animosities between them, and that a common sympathy would have prevented the few tliat were left from drawing their swords upon each other ; but it had no such effect. Sanguinary contests and atrocious murders daily occurred throughout the whole country. They invaded each other's territories with fire and sword, burned with indiscriminating vengeance the cottage as well as the castle ; despoiled the lands of corn and cattle ; and retired only when driven back by a superior force, or when there was nothing more left to destroy or carry away. For us, who live in so totally different and so much happier times, it is not easy to conceive the dreadful and extraordiniary state of matters which prevailed in Scotland during such periods as that of the minority of James V., Avhen there was no ruler in the land to curb the turbulence and ambition of its nobles. In their migrations from one place to another, these proud chieftains were con- stantly attended by large bodies of armed followers, whom they kept in regular pay, besides supplying them with arms and armour. Thus troops of armed men, their retainers being generally on horseback, were constantly traversing the coun- try in all directions, headed by some stern chieftain clad in complete armour, and bent on some lawless expedition of revenge or aggression ; but lie came thus prepared as well to the feast as to the fray, for he did not know how soon the former might be converted into the latter. There existed always a mutual dis- trust of each other, which kept them in a constant dread of treachery, and no outward signs of friendship could throw them for a moment off their guard. Thus they were compelled to have frequent recourse to stratagem to destroy an enemy ; and numerous instances of the basest and most cowardly assassinations, accomplished by such means, occur in the pages of Scottish history. The num- ber of armed retainers by which the chieftain was attended, was propoi-tioned to his means. The Douglases are said to have seldom gone abroad with fewer than fifteen hundred men at arms behind them; and Robertson of Strowan, a chief of no great note, in the year 1504, was attended by a band of no less than eight hundred followers when he went to ravage the lands of Athol. The earl of Angus on one occasion entered Edinburgh with five Imndred men in his train, all " well accompanied and arrayed with jack and spear," for which they found sufficient employment before they left the city. Angus had come to Edinburgli with this formidable force to prevent the success of an attempt which the earl of Arran, then also in the town, was at that instant making to deprive the queen dowager of the regency. So soon as Arran got notice that Angus Avas in the city, he ordered the gates to be shut to secure him, but unaware, that he had also shut up with him five hundred well-armed followers. In the morning some of Angus's friends waited upon him, and informed him of the measures which Arran had taken for his apprehension, they also told him that if he did not instantly appear on the open street where he might defend himself, he would be taken prisoner. Angus lost no time in buckling on his armour, and summoning his followers around him. He tlien formed in battle array, immediately above the Nether- bow, and after a fruitless attempt on the part of Gavin Douglas, archbishop of St Andi'ews, to prevent bloodshed, the retainers of the two hostile noblemen encountered each other ; and after a sanguinary (conflict of long continuance. JAMES. 213 on tlie public street, in which great numbers were killed and wounded on both sides, Arraii's party gave way, and he himself with difficulty escaped through the North Loch. This encounter was afterwards distinguished by the name of Cleanse the Causey, from its having been fought upon the street or causey. Such was the condition of Scotland during nearly the whole period of the minor- ity of James ; and by merely substituting one noble name for another, and shift- ing from time to time the scene of their endless squabbles and skirmishes, adding an interminable and scarcely intelligible story of intrigues, duplicity, and decep- tion, we have the histoi-y of the kingdom for the fifteen years immediately suc- ceeding the battle of Flodden field. During this period, we occasionally find the queen and her second husband, the earl of Angus, and sometimes the duke of Albany, cousin of the late king, in possession of the nominal regency. At length the young monarch comes upon the stage ; and it is not until that event occurs, that the interest of the story is resumed. It then becomes a connected and intelligible tale, and is at once relieved of the cumbrous and fatiguing narratioJi of occurrences, digressive, episodical, and parenthetical, with which it was pre- viously disfigured and obscured. In the mean time, the young monarch, unconscious of the storm that was raging without, was pursuing his studies in the castle of Edinburgh, where he had been placed for safety, under the tuition of (iavin Dunbar. The apartments appropriated to the youthful sovereign in this ancient fortress, seem to have been in but a %'ery indifierent condition ; liis master, Dunbar, though afterwards refunded, having been obliged to repair, at his own cost, in the first instance, the chamber in which the king received his lessons, one particular room having been set apart for that purpose. Indeed, during the whole of Albany's regency, the wants of the young monarch seem to have been very little attended to : even his personal comfort was so much neglected, that it was with great difficulty he could procure a new doublet or a new pair of hose ; and he at one time must have gone without even them, but for the kindness of his natural sister, the countess of Morton, who, from tiu^e to time, supplied him with articles of wearing apparel. The treasurer, too, frequently refused to pay the tailor for the making of liis clothes, when the material instead of tlie dress happened to be sent him. T'hough placed in the castle for security, this consideration does not seem to have precluded the indulgence of going abroad occasionally. A mule was kept for him, on which he rode out during the intervals of his study, and when tlie town and surrounding country were reckoned sufficiently quiet and peaceful as to admit of his doing so with safety. Tlie appearance, character, and temper of the young monarch during his nonage, are spoken of in warm tei-ms by his contemporaries. In personal appearance he is said to have borne a strong resemblance to his uncle Henry \ 111. of England ; who, tyrant though he was, had certainly a very noble and kingly presence, .lames's countenance was oval, of a mild and sweet expression ; his eyes blue, and beaming at once with gen- tleness and intelligence without efieminacy ; a head of yellow hair completes the picture. He was of an exceedingly allectionate disposition, and of a gener- ous though somewhat hasty temper. " There is not in the world," says the queen his mother, in a letter to Surrey, " a wiser child, or a better-hearted, or a more able." This is the language of a parent indeed ; but, when corroborated as it is by other evidence, there is no occasion to suspect it of partiality, .lames was about this time in the elevenlii or twcUlh year of his age. With his other good qualities he discovered a slirewdness and sagacity superior to his years. Surrey, speaking of him to Wolsey, says, " he speaks sure, for so young a thing." The young monarch was much addicted to all manly sports and exer- cises, and in all excelled. He rode gracefully, was passionately fond of the 214 JAMES. chase, and took much delight in hawks, hounds, and all the other appurtenances belonging to that amusement. He also sang and danced well, and even in his boyish years felt much of that " stern joy" which noble minds feel in possessing- and handling implements of war. He was delighted with arms and armour; and could draw a sword a yai-d long before the hilt, when buckled to his side, as well as a full grown man. His own weapon was of this length \vhen he was only twelve years of age. James was altogether at this period of his life a noble and princely boy. His amusements were all of a manly character. His mind was generous and elevated, his mein and carriage gallant and dignified. In short, imagination cannot conceive a more striking image of a youthful monarch in a rude and warlike age, than is presented to us in the person and character of James the V. of Scotland. Thei'e is some reason, however, to believe, that the royal colt was a little wild, and that he was fully as fond of tilting with the spear, or making the forest of Ettrick ring witii his bugle notes, as of studying his humanities, for his Latinity was found to be sadly defective. He seems to have kept Stirling castle, the place where he last resided before assuming the reins of government, in something like an uproar while he lived in it, with his sports and amusements. He was generally joined in these by his domestics ; and as they were pretty numerous, we may readily conceive Avhat a noise and turmoil they would create, led on in their wild and obstreperous frolics by their bold and lively young leader. Pelting each other with eggs is known to have been a favourite pastime, and it is one certainly, which must have given rise to many of the most ludicrous scenes. Although the estates of the kingdom had fixed the eighteenth year of his age as that which should terminate the minority of James, and put him in full and uncontrolled possession of the sovereignty of the kingdom, he was called upon to take his seat on the throne at a much earlier period of life. The lords themselves, whose feuds and quan'els had filled the country with slaugliter and rapine, saw no other way of terminating the frightful scene but by calling on the king, young as he was, to assume the royal dignity. The ambition of his mother, who hoped to possess herself of the real power and authority, also contributed to facilitate the event; and, accordingly, the boy king, for he was only twelve years of age, was brought, escorted by a numerous train of nobles, from Stirling castle to Holyrood house. On first learning the resolution which the lords had come to of investing him with the royal charac- ter, he expressed much delight, and seemed filled with the most joyful antici- pations. " He was weill content," says Lindsay, " to leive correctioun at the scooles, and pas to his lordis at libertie." Amongst the first things which tiie young monarch did on arriving at Holy- rood, was to change all the oflicers of the I'oyal household, from the treasurer down to the carvers. Three noblemen, the earl of Lennox, the lords Hamilton and Angus, and archbishop Beatoun, were appointed as his guardians and ad- visers. For a year after his arrival in Edinburgh and assumption of the royal dignity, the king and his guardians lived happily, and Lindsay says, merrily together ; but at the end of that period, a " benefice vaiket," a temptation came in the way, and destroyed the harmony of the association ; each claimed it from the king, and each thought he had a better right to it than his fellow. Angus said, that he was always scarce of hay and horse corn when he came to Edin- burgh, and that therefore it should be given to him. The vacant benefice was attaclied to Holyrood house. Whether it was the force of this appeal, or the superior influence of Angus over the royal mind that decided the point, is left unexplained; but that nobleman carried off the prize, to the great disappoint- ment and displeasure of the other three, who shortly after i-etired in disgust JAMES. 215 from the court. Lennox, who had got nothing at all, returned, in despair of gaining any thing by the royal favour, to his own country; and Hamilton, though he had procured the abbacy of Paisley for his son, thinking that he had not got enough, followed his example. Beatoini, who lived then in a house of his own in the Friar's Wynd, refrained afterwards fi'om going near the court, but when expressly sent for. Although James was now placed upon the tlirone, and surrounded with all the insignia of royalty, he neither of himself assumed nor was permitted to as- sume the functions of the royal state. He was much too young to be capable of holding the reins of government, and there were those around him who were not desirous that he should. Nor does it appear that the young monarch cared much about the matter, so long as he was permitted to enjoy himself; and there is no reason to believe that the defection of his grave guardians sank very deep into his mind. As the king advanced in years, however, this indifference to the power and authority of his elevated station giadually gave way to the natural ambition of enjoying them ; and he at length determined to rid himself of the thraldom under which he was kept by the earl of Angus, who had for several years exercised the royal authority in his name. The house of Douglas, how- ever, was too powerful, and their influence too extensive, to admit of his ertect- ing his emancipation by any open effort, he therefore determined to have recourse to secret measures in the first instance. The young king was now in the seventeenth year of his age, and when he carried his design into execution, was residing at Falkland, a favourite hunting place of the kings of Scotland. Here he was attended as usual by the earl of Angus and several of his kindred, all of whom were united in the design of keeping the king as it were to themselves. A Douglas was captain of his guard ; a Douglas was treasurer ; and a Douglas was guardian and adviser. Great numbers of that name, besides, filled subordinate situations in the royal household, and the king's guard, consisting of a hundred gentlemen, were all in the interest of the earl of Angus and his family. Thus encompassed, the young monarch had no other resource than to endeavour to elude their vigilance. He was under no personal restraint, nor was he debarred from any enjojment or amusement with which he chose to occupy himself. On the contrary, they all led an exceedingly merry and joyous life together ; were almost daily out hunting and hawking and feasting with the neighbouring noblemen and gentle- men, and amongst the rest with the archbishop of St Andrews, who entertained the king and his attendants with great " mirrines" for several days togetlier ; but it was necessary that a Douglas should always be present on these occasions. Hunting, hawking, or feasting, still a Douglas must be there. An opportunily such as the young monarch had long and anxiously looked for of escaping from this annoying surveilance at length presented itself, and he availed himself of it. The earl of Angus left Falkland for a few days, to transact some private business of his own in the Lolhians, leaving the king in charge of his uncle, Archibald Douglas, and his brother George. 'Ihese two, however, availing themselves probably of the earl's absence, also left the palace on diflerent errands ; the former, it is hinted, to visit a mistress in Dundee, and the latter to arrange some business with the archbishop of St Andrews. There was still, however, a fourth left, whom it was necessary the king should dispose of before he could effect his escape ; this was .lames Douglas of I'arkhead, the captain of the guard, to whom the absentees in the last resort had confided the safe keeping of the young monarch. In order to get rid of him, the king gave out that he intended to go a-hunting early on the following morning, and having sent for .lames Douglas to his bed-room, he called for liquor, and drinking to his guest, re- 216 JAMES. rnaiked that he should see good hunting t)n the morrow. Douglas, little dream- ing of the equivoque, saw the king safely to bed, and retired to his own by the advice of his master, much earlier than usual, that he might be up by times in the morning, the king having ordered dejeune to be served at four o'clock. It is not improbable that his majesty, moreover, had made him take an extra cup before they parted. As soon as all was quiet in the palace, the king got up, disguised himself by putting on the dress of one of his own grooms, and de- scended to the stables, where " Jockie Hart," a yeoman of the stable, witli another trusty servant, also in the secret, were ready prepared with saddled horses for the intended flight. They all three instantly mounted, and escaping all notice from the wardens, took the road for Stirling at full gallop. On reaching the castle, which he did by break of day, the king ordered the gates to be shut, and that no one should be permitted to enter without his special order. This done, he retired fro bed, much fatigued with his long and rapid ride. His escape from Falkland was not discovered until the following morning. George Douglas had returned to the palace at eleven o'clock at night, about an hour after the king's depai-ture, but having learned from the porters that his majesty was asleep in his own apart- ment, he, without further inquiry, retired to bed ; and it was not until he was roused at an early hour of- the morning, by Patrick Carmichael, baillie of Abernethy, who had recognized the king in his flight, and who came with all manner of despatch to inform him of it, that he knew any thing at all about the matter. He would not at first believe it, but rushed in great alarm to the king's chamber, which he found locked, and it was only when he .had burst up the door and found the apartment unoccupied, that he felt assured of the dreadful truth. The king must have already acquired some little reputation for that gal- lantry amongst the ladies which afterwards so much distinguished him, for on this occasion he was at first suspected to have gone oft' on a nocturnal visit to a lady at Bambrigh, some miles distant from Falkland. Inunediately after his arrival in Stirling, the king sunmioned a great number of his lords to join him there, to assist him with their advice and counsel. The summons was readily obeyed, both from personal attachment to the king, and a jealousy and dislike of his late guardian the earl of Angus. In a few days, James was surrounded with nearly a score of the noblest names in the land, all ready to perish in his defence, and to assert and maintain his rights at the point of the sword. He seems to have resented highly the restraint in which he had been kept by Angus and his kindred, for it was now, he said, addressing the assembled lords, " I avow that Scotland shall not hold us both till I be revenged on him and his." The earl of Angus and all his immediate friends were now put to the horn, and the former deprived of all his public offices. It is therefore at this period that the actual reign of James commences, and not before. He was now freed from the influence of the Douglases, surrounded by his nobles, who paid him a ready and willing homage, and was in every respect an independent and absolute sovereign, capable and at liberty to judge and to act for himself. James's appearance and character were as interesting as his situation at this period of his life. He was now, as stated before, in the seventeenth year of his age, of a robust constitution, which enabled him to encounter any bodily fatigue. His speech and demeanour were mild and conciliating. His stature was of middling height, but handsomely foi-med, and " the fient a pride, nae pride had he." He spoke at all times affably to the meanest of his subjects, and would partake of the humblest repast of the humblest peasant in liis dominions, with a glee and satisfaction which evinced the most amiable kindness I JAMES. 217 of disposition. Tliese qualities rendered him exceedingly beloved by the com- mon people, of whom he was always besides so steady and effective a friend, as procured for him the enviable title of King of the Poor. Amongst the first cares of James, after his becoming possessed of the actual sovereignty of the kingdom, was to subdue the border thieves and marauders, who were carrying matters with a high hand, and had so extended their busi- ness during the lawless period of his minority, and so systematized their pro- ceedings, that Armstrong of Kilnockie — the celebrated Johnnie Armstrong of the well-known old ballad — one of the most noted leaders of these predatory bands, never traveled abroad, even on peaceful purposes, without a train of six and twenty gentlemen well mounted, well armed, and always handsomely dressed in the gayest and most chivalrous garb of the times. As James, however, knew that he would have little chance of laying hold of these desperadoes if he sought them with openly hostile intentions, their predatory habits and intimate know- ledge of the localities of the country rendering it easy for them to evade any such attempt, he had recourse to stratagem. He gave out that he intended to have a great hunting match on the borders, and really did combine both sport and business in the expedition which followed. As was usual with the Scottish kings on hunting occasions, he summoned all the noblemen and gentlemen in the country, who could find it convenient, to attend him with their dogs on a certain day at Edinburgh, and, what was not so customary, to bring each a month's victuals along with him. Such a provision was always required when an ai-my of conmion men were called together, but not in the case of convocations of men above that rank. The expedition in this case, however, was to be both warlike and sportive ; and the former might prevent the latter from afibrding tliem a sufficiency of game for their subsistence. The summons of the king for the bor- der hunting was so willingly obeyed, that a host amounting to twelve thousand assembled in Edinburgh against the appointed time ; and amongst these, some chieftains from very distant parts of the country, such as Huntly, Argyle, and Athol, all of whom brought their large, fierce Highland deer dogs along with them to assist in the chase. It was in the month of June, 1529, that this prodigious host of sportsmen, headed by the king in person, set out to- wards the borders. The gi'eater part of them were well armed, and were tlms prepared for any tiling that might occur. On all such occasions pavilions, tents, bedding, &c. for the acconnnodation of the sportsmen, were despatched some days previous to the ground selected for the first day's amusement, and were afterwards moved from place to place as the scene of action was sliifted. The king's pavilion was very splendid, and might readily be distinguished from all others by its superior richness and elegance. His dogs, too, were elevated above all the dogs of meaner men, as well by their extrinsic ornaments as by their intrinsic merits. Their collare were gilt, or were of purple velvet adorned with golden studs, while the royal hawks were provided with collars and bells of the same metal. Tlie cavalcade having reached Meggotland, on the southern border of Peebleshire, a favourite hunting place of James's, and which was always reserved exclusively for the king's hunting — the sport began, and in a few days no less tiian three liinidred and sixty deer were slain. Soon after this, Armstrong of Kilnockie, little dreaming of the fate that awaited him, made his appearance among the sportsmen, at a jilace called Caerlanrig, it is said by invitation, but whether it was so or not he seems to have calculated on at least a civil, if not a cordial reception from the king, being in total ignorance of the real bject of the king's visit to the borders. Armstrong was not altogether unreasonable in such an expectation, for his robberies had always been confined to England, and he was rather looked upon as a protector than otherwise by his II'. 2 K 218 JAMES, own countrymen, none of whose property he was ever known to have meddled with. He always " quartered upon the enemy,'' and thought that by doing so he did good service to the state ; but not being consulted in the various treaties ' of peace which occasionally took place between the sovereigns of the two king- doms, he did not always feel himself called upon to recognize them, and accord- ingly continued to levy his black-mail from the borders, all the way, it is said, unto Newcastle. Though the king had made peace with England, Johnnie Armstrong had not; and he thei-efore continued to cai-ry on the war in defiance of all those treaties and truces to which he was not a party. On this occasion the daring borderer, expecting a gracious reception from the king, and desirous of appearing before his sovereign in a manner becoming what he conceived to be his own rank, presented himself and his retainers, all magnificently ap- pareled, before his majesty. The king, who did not know him personally, at first mistook him for some powerful nobleman, and returned his salute ; but on learning his name, he instantly ordered him and all his followers to be taken into custody and hanged upon the spot. " AVhat wants that knave that a king- should have," exclaimed James, indignantly struck with the splendour of Arm- strong's and his followers' equipments, and, at the same time, turning round from them on his heel as he spoke. The freebooter at first pled hard for his life, and endeavoured to bribe the king to spare him. He offered his own ser- vices and that of forty men at any time, Avhen the king should require it, free of all expense to his majesty. He further offered to bring to him any subject of England — duke, earl, lord, or bax'on, against any given day, either dead or alive, whom his majesty might desire either to destroy or to have as a cajjtive. Finding that all lie could say and all he could offer had no effect in moving the king from liis determination. The bold borderer, seeing the die was cast, and his fate sealed, instantly resumed the natural intrepidity of his character, — " I am but a fool," he said, raising himself proudly up, " to look for gratre in a graceless face. But had I known, sir, that you would have taken my life this day, I should have lived upon the borders in despite of both king Henry and you ; and I know that the king of England would down-weigh my best horse with gold to be assured that I was to die this day." No further colloquy took place ; Armstrong and all iiis followers were led off to instant execution. A ])opular tradition of the borders, where his death was much regretted, says, that the tree on which Armstrong was executed, though it continued to vegetate, never again put forth leaves. After subjecting several other notorious offenders to a similar fate, the king i-eturned to Edinburgh on the 24th of July. In the following summer, he set out upon a similar expedition to the north, with that which he had conducted to the south, and for similar pui-poses — at once to en- joy the pleasures of the chase and to bring to justice the numerous and daring thieves and robbers with which the country was infested. This practice of converting the amusement of hunting into a means of dis- pensing justice throughout the kingdom, was one to which James had often re- course, for on these occasions he took care always to be attended with an armed force, sufficiently strong to enforce the laws against the most powerful infringer ; and he did not spare them when within his reach. For thieves and robbers he had no compassion ; common doom awaited them all, whatever might be tlieir rank or pretensions. In this particular he was stern and inflexible to the last degree ; and the times i-equii-ed it. There was no part of his policy more bene- ficial to the kingdom than tlie resolute, incessant, and relentless war which lie waged against all marauders and plunderers. On the expedition which he now undertook to the north, he was accompanied by the queen mother, and tlie papal ambassador, tlien at the Scottish court. 'Ihe JAMES. 219 earl of Athol, to whose country the royal party proposed first proceeding, hav- ing received intelligence of the visit which he might expect, made the most splendid preparation for their reception. On the arrival of the illustrious visitors, they found a magnificent palace, constructed of boughs of trees, and fitted with glass Avindows, standing in the midst of a smooth level park or meadow. At each of the four corners of this curious structure, there was a regularly formed tower or block-house ; and tlie whole was joisted and floored to the height of three stories. A large gate between two towers, with a formidable portcullis, all of green Avood, defended the enti-ance ; while the Avhole was surrounded with a ditch sixteen feet deep and thirty feet wide, filled with water, and stocked with various kinds of fish, and crossed in front of the palace by a commodious draw-bridge. The walls of all the apartments were hung with the most splendid tapestry, and the floors so thickly strewn with flowers, that no man would have known, says Lindsay, but he had been in " ane greine gar- deine." The feasting which followed was in keeping with this elaborate and costly preparation. Every delicacy which the season and the coinitry could supply was furnished in pi'odigious quantities to the royal retinue. The choicest Axines, fruits, and confections, Avere also placed before them Avith unsparing liberality ; and the vessels, linen, beds, &:c., with Avhich this fairy mansion Avas supplied for the occasion, Avere all of the finest and most costly description. The royal party remained here for three days, at an expense to their noble host of as many thousand pounds. Of all the party there Avas not one so surprised, and so much gratified Avith this unexpected display of magnificence and abun- dance of good living, as his reverence the pope's ambassador. The holy man Avas absolutely overwhelmed Avith astonishment and delight to find so many good things in the heart of a Avild, uncivilized, and barbarous country. But his aston- ishment was greatly increased Avhen, on tlie eve of their departure, he saw a party of Highlanders busily employed in setting fire to that structure, Avithin Avhich lie had fared so Avell and been so comfortably lodged, and Avhich had cost so much time, labour, and expense in its erection. " I marvel, sir," he said, addressing the king, " that ye should suffer yon fair palace to be burned, that your grace has been so Avell entertained in." " It is the custom of our Higli- landmen," replied James, smiling, " that be they never so Avell lodged at night they Avill burn the house in the moi-ning." Tlie king and his retinue now pro- ceeded to Dunkeld, Avhere they remained all night. From thence they A\ent next day to Perth, afterwards to Dundee and St Andrews, in all of wiiich places they Avere sumptuously entertained — and finally returned to Edinburgli. .Tames, Avho had now passed his twentieth year, Avas in the very midst of that singular ciireer of frolic and adventure in Avhich he delighted to indulge, and Avhich forms so conspicuous a feature in his character. Attended only by a single friend or two, and his person disguised by the garb of a gentleman of ordinary rank, and sometimes, if traditionary tales tell truth, by that of a person of a much lower grade, he rode through the country in search of adventures, or on visits to distant mistresses ; often on these occasions passing Avhole days and nights on horseback, and putting up contentedly Avith the coarsest and scantiest fare Avhich chance might throw in the Avay. Sleeping in barns on "clean pease strae," and partaking of the " gude wife's" slioep head, her oaten cakes, and ale, or Avhatever else she might have to ofier, was no uncommon occurrence in the life of James. Such visits, however, Avere not always prompted by the most innocent motives. A fair maiden Avould at any time induce the monarch to ride a score of miles out of his way, and to pass lialf the night exposed to all its in- clemency for an hour's intervioAV. James Avas no niggard in his gallantries : Avhere money Avas required, he gave 220 JAMES. it freely and liberally ; where it was not, his munificence took the shape of presents, — such as rings, chains, &c. of gold and other descriptions of jewellery. In one month he gave away in this way to the value of upwards of four hun- dred pounds. The roving monarch, however, made even his vagrancies subser- vient to his great object of extirpating thieves and robbers. During his wan- derings he frequently fell in with numerous bands of them, or sought them out ; and on such occasions never hesitated to attack them, however formidable they might be, and however few his own followers. As the roving propensities of the king thus frequently put his life in jeopardy, and as his dying without lawful issue would have left the country in all probability, a prey to civil war, the nation became extremely anxious for his marriage, an event which, after many delays, arising from political objections to the various connexions from time to time proposed, at length took place. The Scottish ambassadoi's in France concluded, by James's authority, a marriage treaty with Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the duke of Vendome. On the final set- tlement of this treaty, the young monarch proceeded to Vendome, to claim in person his affianced bride ; but here his usual gallantry failed him, for on seeing the lady he rejected her, and annulled the treaty. Whether it was the result of chance, or that James had determined not to re- turn home without a wife, this occurrence did not doom him, for any length of time, to a single life. From Vendome he proceeded to Paris, was graciously received by Francis I., and finally, after a month or two's resi- dence at that monarch's court, married his daughter Magdalene. The ceremony, which took place in the church of Notre Dame, was celebrated with great pomp and splendour. The whole city rang with rejoicings, and the coin-t with sounds of revelry and merriment. The marriage was succeeded by four months of con- tinued feasting, sporting, and merry making. At the end of that period James and his young bride, who was of an exceedingly sweet and amiable disposition, returned to Scotland ; the former loaded with costly presents from his father-in- law, and the latter with a dowry of a hundred thousand crowns, besides an an- nual pension of thirty thousand livres during her life. The royal pair arrived at Leith on Whitsun-eve, at ten o'clock at night. On first touching Scottish ground, the pious and kind-hearted young queen dropped on her knees, kissed the land of her adoption, and after thanking God for the safe arrival of her husband and herself, prayed for happiness to the country and the people. The rejoicings which the royal pair had left in France were now resumed in Scotland. Magdalene was every where received by the people with the strongest proofs of welcome and regard, and this as much from her own gen- tle and afiable demeanour as from her being the consort of their sovereign. Never queen made such rapid progress in the affections of a nation, and few ever acquii-ed during any period so large a proportion of pei'sonal attachment as did this amiable lady. The object, however, of all this love, was not destined long to enjoy it. She was in a bad state of health at the time of her marriage, and all the happiness which that event brought along with it could not retard the progress of tlie disease which was consuming her. She daily became worse after her arrival in Scotland, and finally expired within forty days of her land- ing. James was for a long time inconsolable for her loss, and for a time buried himself in retirement, to indulge in the sorrow which he could not restrain. Policy required, however, that the place of the departed queen should, as soon as propriety would admit, be supplied by another ; and James fixed upon Mary of Guise, daughter of the duke of that name, and widow of the duke of Longueville, to be the successor of Magdalene. An embassy having been de- patched to France to settle preliminaries, and to bring the queen consort to JAMES. 221 Scotland; she arrived in the latter kingdom in June, 1538. Mary landed at Balcomie in Fife, where she was received by the king, surrounded by a great number of his nobles. From thence the royal party proceeded to Dundee, St Andrews, then to Stirling ; from that to Linlithgow ; and lastly to Edinburgh. In all of these places the royal pair were received with every demonstration of popular joy, and were sumptuously entertained by the magistrates and other au- thorities of the different towns. James, by a long and steady perseverance in the administration of justice, without regard to the wealth or rank of the cul- prits, and by the wholesome restraint under which he held the turbulent nobles had now secured a degree of peace and prosperity to the country which it had not enjoyed for many years before. His power was acknowledged and felt in tlie most remote parts of the Lowlands of Scotland, and even a great part of the Highlands. But the western isles, and the most northei-n extremity of the kingdom, places then difficult of access, and comparatively but little known, were still made the scenes of the most lawless and atrocious deeds by the fierce and restless chieftains, and their clans, by whom they were inhabited. James, however, resolved to carry and establish his authority even there. He resolved to " beard the lion in his den ;" to bring these desperadoes to justice in the midst of their barbarous hordes ; and this bold design he determined to execute in person. He ordered twelve ships, well provided with artillery to be ready against the fourteenth day of May. The personal preparations of the king, and those made for his accommodation in the ship in which he was himself to embark on this expedition, were extensive and multifarious. His cabin was hung with gi-een cloth, and his bed with black damask. Large quantities of silver plate, and culinary utensils, with stores for cooking, were put on board ; and also a vast number of tents and pavilions, for the accommodation of his suite, when they should land in the isles. The monarch himself was equipped in a suit of red velvet, ornamented with gold embroidery, and the ship in which be sailed was adorned with splendid flags, and numerous streamers of red and yellow serge. The expedition, which had been delayed for fourteen days beyond the time appointed, by the advanced state of the queen's pregnancy, finally set sail for its various destinations in the beginning of June. The royal squadron, on reaching the western shores, proceeded deliberately from island to island, and from point to point of the mainland, the king landing on each, and summoning the various cliieftains to his presence. Some of these he executed on the spot, othei^s he carried away with him as hostages for the future peaceful conduct of their kinsmen and followers ; and thus, after making the teiTor of his name and the sternness of his justice felt in every glen in the Highlands, he bent his way again homewards. James himself landed at Dumbarton, but the greater part of his ships, including those on board of which were the captured chieftains, were sent round to Leith. Having now reduced tlie whole country to such a state of tranquillity, and so effectually accomplished the scciu-ity of private property every where, that it is boasted, that, at this period of his reign, flocks of sheep were as safe in Ettrick forest as in the province of Fife, he betook himself to the improvement of his kingdom by peaceful pursuits. He imported superior breeds of liorses to improve the native race of that animal. He promoted the fisheries, and invited artisans and mechanics of all descriptions to settle in the country, encouraging them by the offer of liberal wages, and, in many cases, by bestowing small an- nual pensions. Witli every promise of a long and happy reign, and in the midst of exertions which entitled him to expect tlie latter, the cup was suddenly dashed from liis lips. Misfortune on misfortune crowded on the ill-starred 222 JAMES. monarch, and hurried him to a premature grave. Two princes who were born to him by Mary of Guise, died in their infancy within a few days of each other, a calamity which sank deep in the heait of tlieir royal parent. His uncle, the king of England, with whom he had hitherto been on a friendly footing, for reasons now not very well known, invaded his dominions with an army of twenty thousand men, under the command of the duke of Norfolk. James gave orders to assemble an army of thirty thousand men on the Burrow muir, and with this force he marched to oppose them. The hostile armies met at Solway moss, but with little disposition on the part of the leaders of the Scottish aimy to maintain the credit of their sovereign by their arms. James had never been friendly to the aristocracy, and tiiey now I'etaliated upon him by a lukewarra- ness in his cause in the hour of need. The unfortunate monarch himself in- creased this spirit of defection at tliis critical juncture by appointing Oliver Sin- clair, a mean favourite, and a man of no ability, to the command of his army. The intelligence of this appointment excited the utmost indignation in the Scot- tish army. All declared that they would rather submit to be taken prisoners by the English than be commanded by such a general ; and the whole army was thrown into such a state of commotion by this infatuated proceeding of their sovereign, that the English general perceived the disorder, and taking advan- tage of it, attacked the Scottish army with a few hundred light horse. The for- mer making no resistance were instantly put to flight. James was at Carlave- rock, about twelve miles distant, when this disaster took place. When in- formed of the disgraceful flight of his army, he sank into a state of dejection and melancholy from which nothing could rouse him. His proud spirit could not brook the disgrace which liad befallen his arms, and the conduct of his nobles excited a degree of irritation which soon threw him into a violent fever. In this state of despondency he retired to Falkland. Here he took to bed and refused all sustenance. Wliile in this condition intelligence was brought him that the queen, then at Linlithgow, was delivered of a girl. " It came with a lass and it will go with a lass," said the dying monarch, reckoning it another misfortune, that it was not a male heir that had been given to him. A little before his death, which was now fast approaching, he was heard mut- tering the Avords " Solway moss," the scene of that disaster which was now hur- rying him to the grave. On the day of his death, which happened previous to the 13tli of December, 1542, but within two or three days of it, although the precise day is not known, he turned round to the lords who suriounded his bed, and with a faint but benignant smile, held out his hand to them to kiss, and in a few minutes thereafter expired. James died in the 31st year of his age, leaving the unfortunate Mary, then an infant, to succeed to his dignities and to more than his misfortunes. Besides Mary, his only surviving legitimate child, James left six natural children. These were — James, abbot of Kelso and Mel- rose ; the regent IMurray ; Robert, prior of Holyroodhouse ; John, prior of Coldingham ; Janet, wife of the earl of Angus ; and Adam, prior of the Char- treux at Perth. JAMES VI. of Scotland, and I. of England, was born in the castle of Edin- burgh, June 19, 1566. He Avas the son of the reigning sovereign Mary, by her husband, Henry, lord Darnley, who was nominally associated with her in the government, and Avas the eldest son of the existing earl of Lennox. Both by his father and mother, James Avas the great-grandson of Henry VII. of England, and, failing queen Elizabeth and his own mother, stood nearest to the throne of tliat kingdom, at the same time that he Avas heir-apparent to the Scottish crown. The character of his parents and their previous history are so Avell knoAvn, that it is unnecessary to touch upon them liere. It may only be mentioned, that JAMES. 223 while the royal infant brought witli him into the world pretensions the most brilliant that could have befallen a moi-tal creature, he also carried in his con- stitution a weakness of the most lamentable nature, affecting both his body and his mind. About three months before his birtli, his father headed a band of conspirators, who broke violently into the privacy of his mother's chamber, and in her presence slew her fiivourite counsellor, David Kiccio. The agitation of the mother on that occasion, took effect upon the child, who, though intended apparently to be alike strong in mental and bodily constitution, showed through life many deficiencies in both respects, though, perhaps, to a less extent than has been represented by popular history. It is well known that a confederation of the Scottish nobles dethroned Mary about a year after the birth of her son. While this ill-fated princess r.as con- demned to imprisonment in Lochleven castle, her son was taken to Stirling, and there crowned at the age of thirteen montlis and ten days. The real govern- ment was successively administered by the regents Moray, Lennox, Mar, and Morton, under the secret direction of the English queen, by whom, in time, her rival IMary was put to death. James, after a weakly infancy, was placed under the care of tlie celebrated Buchanan, whose religious principles and dis- tinguislied scholarship seemed to qualify him peculiarly for the task of educating a prolestant prince. It would appear that the young king received at the hands of liis master a great deal more learning, classical and theological, than he was able to digest, and thus became liable to as much of the fault of pedantry, as consists in a hoarding of literature for its own sake, or for purposes of ostentation, accompanied by an inability to turn it to its only ti'ue use in the ordinary purposes of life. A pliability of temper, subject alike to evil and to good influences ; a sly acuteness in penetrating the motives of men, without the power to make it of any practical advantage ; and a proneness to listen to the flattering counsellors who told him he was a king, and ought to have the power of one, were other characteristics of this juvenile monarch ; Avhose situation, it must at the same time be acknowledged, was one of such difticulty, as to render a fair development of the best faculties of the mind, and the best tendencies of the heart, hardly to be expected. Though made and upheld as a king, in consequence of a successful rebellion against the monarchical principle, Jaincs was early inspired with a high sense of his royal powers and privileges, probably by some of those individuals who are never wanting aroinid the persons of young princes, let their education be ever so carefully conducted. I'.ven before attaining the age of twelve, lie liad become the centre of a little knot of courtiers, who clustered about him at his residence in Stirling castle, and plotted schemes for transferring the reins of govennnent into his own hands, 3Iorton permitted himself to be surprised in 1578 by this party, who for some time conducted the atlliirs of state in the name of the king, as if he had been in full possession of his birth-right. Blorton, however, soon after regained nearly all his ^vonted ascendancy, and it was not till two or three years later that tlie king became completely emanci- pated from this powerful agent of the English queen. A young scion of nobility, named captain Stuart, from his commanding the king's guards, and Esme, earl of Lennox, the king's cousin, were his chief instruments in obtaining the sovereign power, and in raising that prosecution against 3Iorton, which ended in his exe- cution, .Tune 2, 1581. The former is represented as a profligate adventurer, who studied only how, by flattering the king and enforcing liis despotic views, to promote his own interest. Lennox was a gentler and worthier person, but was obnoxious to po2)ular odium, on account of his professing the catliohc faith. The Protestant and English interest soon rallied, and, in August, 1582, took 224 JAMES. place the celebrated Kaid of Ruthven, by which a few presbyterian nobles, headed by the earl of Gowrie, were enabled to take possession of the royal person, and use his authority for some time in behalf of liberal government and their own religious principles, while Stuart and Lennox were forbidden his presence. It was not till June, 1583, that James emancipated himself from a control which, however well he appeared to bear it, was far from agreeable to him. Lennox had now been banished to France, where he died of a broken heart ; Stuart was created earl of Arran on the ruins of the Hamilton family, and became almost sole counsellor to the young monarch. The nobles who had seized the king at Ruthven, were pardoned ; but Gowrie, having soon after made a second and unsuccessful attempt, was beheaded at Stirling. During the interval between June, 1583, and November, 1585, the government was of a decidedly anti-popular and anti-presbyterian character, — Arran being permitted to act entirely as he pleased. The presbyterian nobles, however, who had fled into England, were, at the latter period, enabled by Elizabeth to invade their ovm country, with such a force as overturned the power of the unworthy favourite, and re-established a system agreeable to the clergy and people, and more closely respondent to the wishes of Elizabeth. In this way James grew up to man's estate. In 1584, when eighteen years of age, he made his firet appearance as an author, by publishing a small thin quarto, entitled " Essayes of a Prentice in the Divine Art of Poesie, with the Rewlis and Cauteles to be pursued and avoided." This work consists of a mixture of poetry and prose ; the poems being chiefly a series of sonnets, which bear very much the appearance of school exercises ; while the prose consists of a code of laws for the construction of verse according to the ideas of that age. There is little in the king's style or his ideas to please the present age ; yet, compared with the etlbrts of contemporary authors, these poems may be said to bear a respectable appearance. The main effect of the late revolution was to re-establish the English influ- ence, which had been deranged by the ascendancy of captain Stuart. In June, 1586, James entered into an arrangement with Elizabeth, by which, in con- sideration of a pension of five thousand pounds _, rendered necessary by his penu- rious circumstances, he engaged to support England against the machinations of the catholic powers of Europe. It was also part of this treaty, that a correspondence which he had entered into with his mother, should be broken off; and he even submitted so far to the desires of his new superior, as to write a disrespectful letter to that unhappy princess, who replied in an eloquent epistle, threatening to denounce him as a usurper, and load him with a parent's curse. James, in reality, during the whole of his occupancy of the Scottish throne, was a mere tool in the hands of one party or another ; and had no personal influence or indepen- dence whatever till the advanced age of Elizabeth gave him near hopes of the English crown. Great care is therefore to be taken in judging of his actions, lest that be attributed to his own vicious will, which was only the dictate of a poli- tical system, of which he was the apparent head, but the real slave. In the winter of 1586-7, he had to endure the painful reflection, that his mother was threat- ened with, and ultimately brought to the scaflbld, without his being able to make the least movement in her favour. It is but justice to him to say, that so far from his manifesting the levity on this subject attributed to him by several Avriters, he appears from documents of respectable authority,' to have manifested the highest indignation, and a degree of grief hardly to be expected from him, ' See the Life of James I., forming two volumes of Const'ible's Miscellany, by the ecUlor of the present work. JAMES. 225 considering that he was not conscious of having evei* seen his parent. IMary, in her last prayer in the hall of Fotheringay, while stretched before the block, entreated tiie favour of God towards her son; which shows that she had not iltimately found proper cause for putting her threat into execution. In 1588, while the shores of England were threatened with the Spanisli armada, James fulfilled, as far as he could, the treaty into which he had entered Avith Elizabeth, by using his best exertions to suppress the movements of a power- ful catholic party among his own subjects, in support of the invasion. In re- turn for this, Elizabeth permitted him to take a wife ; and his choice ultimately fell upon the pi-incess Anne of Denmark, second daughter of the deceased Fre- derick the second. He was married by proxy in August, 1 589 ; but the princess having been delayed in Norway by a storm, which threatened to detain iier for the winter, he gallantly crossed the seas to Upslo, in order to consummate the match. After spending some months at the Danish court, he returned to Scot- land in May, 1590; when the reception vouchsafed to the royal pair was fully such as to justify an expression used by James in one of his letters, that " a king with a new married wyfe did not come hame every day." The king had an illegitimate cousin, Francis, earl of Bothwell, who now for some years embittered his life by a series of plots and assaults for which there is no parallel even in Scottish history. Bothwell had been spared by the king's goodness in 1589, from the result of a sentence for treason, passed on account of his concern in a catholic conspiracy. Soon after James returned from Den- mark, it was discovered that he had tiimpered with professing witches to take away the king's life by necromancy. He at first proposed to stand a trial for this alleged ofi'ence, but subsequently found it necessary to make his escape. His former sentence was then permitted to take efiect, and he became, in the language of tlie times, a broken man. Repeatedly, however, did this bold ad- venturer approach the walls of Edinburgh, and even assail the king in his palace ; nor could the limited powers of the sovereign either accomplish his seizure, or frighten him out of the kingdom. He even contrived at one time to regain his place in the king's council, and remained for several months in the enjoyment of all his former honours, till once more expelled by a party of liis enemies. The king appears to have purposely been kept in a state of power- lessness by his subjects ; even the strength necessary to execute the law upon the paltriest occasions was denied to him ; and his clergy took every opportunity of decrying his government, and diminishing the respect of his people, — lest, in becoming stronger or more generally reverenced, he should have used his in- creased force against the liberal interest, and the presbyterian religion. If he could have been depended upon as a thorougli adherent of these abstractions, there can be no doubt tliat his Scottish reign would liave been less disgraced by the non-execution of the laws. But then, was liis first position under the re- gents and the protestant nobles of a kind calculated to attach him sincerely to tliat party? or can it be decidedly afiiruied that the zeal of the clergy of tliose rough and difiicult times, was sulliciently tempered with human kindness, to make a young prince prefer their peculiar system to one wliich addressed liim in a more courteous manner, and was more favourable to that regal power, the feebleness of which had hitherto seemed the cause of all his distresses and all his humiliation ? In 1 585, while under the control of Arran, he liad written a paraphrase and connnentary on the Revelation of St Jolin, which, however, Avas not completed or published for some years after. In 1591, he produced a second voluuie of verse, entitled " Poetical Exercises ;" in the preface to which he informs tlie reader, as an apology for inaccuracies, that " scarcelie but at stolen moments had III. -i F 2iJf> JAMES. lie leisure to blenk upon any paper, and yet nocht that with free unvexed spirit." He also appears to have at this time proceeded some length with his translation of the Psalms into Scottish verse. It is curious that, while the king manifested, in his literary studies, both the pure sensibilities of the poet and tlie devout aspirations of the saint, his personal manners were coarse, his amuse- ments of no refined character, and his speech rendered odious by common swearing. It is hardly our duty to enter into a minute detail of the vacillations of the Scottish church, during this reign, between presbytery and episcopacy. In pro- portion as the king was weak, the former system prevailed ; and in proportion as he gained strength from the prospect of the English succession, and other causes, the episcopal polity was re-imposed. We are also disposed to overlook the troubles of the catholic nobles — Huntly, Errol, and Angus, who, for some obscure plot in concert with Spain, were persecuted to as great an extent as the personal favour of the king, and his fear of displeasing the English papists, would permit. The leniency shown by the king to these grandees procured him the wrath of tlie church, and led to the celebrated tumult of the 17th of De- cember, 1596, in which the clergy permitted themselves to make so unguarded an appearance, as to furnish their sovereign with the means of checking their power, without offending the people. In February, 1594, a son, afterwards the celebrated prince Henry, was born to tlie king at Stirling castle ; this was followed some years after by the birth of a daughter, Elizabeth, whose fate, as the queen of Bohemia, and ances- tress of the present royal family of Britain, gives rise to so many varied reflec- tions. James wrote a treatise of counsel for his son, under the title of " Basili- con Doroii," which, though containing some passages offensive to the clergy, is a work of much good sense, and conveys, upon the whole, a respectable impression at once of the author's abilities, and of his moral temperament. It was pub- lished in 1599, and is said to have gained him a great accession of esteem among the English, for whose favour, of course, he was anxiously solicitous. Few incidents of note occurred in the latter part of the king's Scottish reign. The principal was the famous conspiracy of the earl of Gowrie and his brother, sons of the earl beheaded in 1584, which was developed — if we may speak of it in such a manner — on the 5th of August, 1600. This affair has of late been considerably elucidated by Robert Pitcairn, Esq., in his la- borious work, the " Criminal Trials of Scotland," though it is still left in some measure as a question open to dispute. The events, so far as ascertained, were as follows. Early on the morning of the 5th of August, 1600, Alexander, Master of Ruthven, with only two followers, Andrew Henderson and Andrew Ruthven, rode from Perth to Falkland, where king James was at that time i-esiding. He arrived there about seven o'clock, and stopping at a house in the vicinity of the palace, sent Henderson forward to learn the motions of the king. His mes- senger returned quickly with the intelligence, that his majesty was just depart- ing for the chase. Ruthven proceeded immediately to the palace, where he met James in front of the stables. They spoke together for about a quarter of an hour. None of the attendants overheard the discourse, but it was evident fi-om the king's laying his hand on the master's shoulder, and clapping his back, that the matter of it pleased him. The hunt rode on, and Ruthven joined the train; first, however, despatching Henderson to inform his brother that his majesty was coming to Perth with a few attendants, and to desire him to cause dinner to be prepared. A buck was slain about ten o'clock, when the king desired the duke of Lennox and the earl of Dlar to accompany him to Perth, to speak with the JAMES. 227 earl of Gowrie. The master of Rutliven now despatched his other attendant to give the earl notice of tlie king's approadi ; and immediately afterwards James and he set off at a rate that threw heliind the royal attendants, uho lost some time in clianging horses. When the duke of Lennox overtook them, the king, with great glee, told him that he was riding to Perth to get a pose (treasure). He then asked the duke's opinion of Alexander Ruthven, which proving favour- able, he proceeded to repeat the story which that young man had told him, of his having the previous evening surprised a man with a large sum of money on his person. The duke expressed his opinion of the improbability of the tale, and some suspicion of Ruthven's purpose ; upon which the king desired him to follow when he and Ruthven should leave the hall — an order which he repeated after his arrival in the earl of Gourie's house. Meantime, Henderson, on his arrival at Perth, found the elder Ruthven in his chamber, speaking upon busi:ies-i with two gentlemen. Gowrie drew him aside the moment he entered, and asked whether he brought any letter or mes- sage from his brother. On learning that the king was coming, he took the messenger into his cabinet, and inquired anxiously in what manner the master had been received, and what persons were in attendance upon his majesty. Returning to the chamber, he made an apology to the two gentlemen, and dis- missed them. Henderson then went to his own house. When he returned, in about an hour, the earl desired him to arm himself, as he had to a})prehend a Highlander in the Shoe-gate. The master of the household being unwell, the duty of carrying up tlie earl's dinner devolved upon Henderson. He performed this service about lialf past twelve ; and afterwards waited upon the earl and some friends who were dining with him. They had just sat down when Andrew Ruthven entered, and whispered something in the earl's ear, who, how- ever, seemed to give no heed. As the second course was about to be set upon the table, the master of Ruthven, who had left the king about a mile from Perth, and rode on before, entered and announced his majesty approach. This was the first intelligence given the inhabitants of Gowrie house of the king's visit, for (jowrie had kept not only his coming, but also the master's visit to Falk- land, a profound secret. The earl and bis visitors, witii their attendants, and some of the citizens among whom the news had spread, went out to meet the king. The street in which Gowrie liouse formerly stood runs north and south, and parallel to the Tay. The house was on the side next the river, built so as to form three sides of a square, the fourth side, that which abutted on the street, being formed by a wall, thi-ough which the entry into the interior court, or close, was by a gate. The scene of the subsequent events was the south side of the square. The interior of this part of the edifice contained, in the first story, a dining-room, looking out upon the river, a hall in the centre, and a room at the further end looking out upon the street, each of them occupying the whole breadth of the building, and opening into each other. The second story con- sisted of a gallery occupying the spa<:« of the dining-room and hall below, and at tiie street end of this gallery, a chamber, in the north-west corner of which was a circular closet, formed by a turret which overhung the outer wall, in which were two long narrow windows, the one looking towards the spy-tower, (a strong tower built over one of the city-gates,) the other looking out upon the court, but visible from the street before the gate. The access to the hall and gallery was by a large turnpike stair in the south-east corner of the court. The hall like- wise conmmnicated witli the garden, which lay between the house and the river. by a door opposite to that which opened from the turnpike, and an outward st,air. The access to the chamber in which was the round closet, was either 228 JAMES. through tlie gallery, or by means of a smaller turnpike (called the black turn- pike) which stood half-way betwixt the principal one and the street. The unexpected arrival of the king caused a considerable commotion in Gowrie's establishment. Craigingelt, the master of the household, was obliged to leave his sick bed, and bestir himself. Messengers were despatched througli Perth to seek, not for meat, for of that there seems to have been plenty, but for some delicacy fit to be set upon the royal table. The baillies and other digni- taries of Perth, as also some noblemen who were resident in the town, came pouring in, — some to pay their respects to his majesty, others to stare at the courtiers. Amid all this confusion, somewhat more than an hour elapsed before the repast was ready. To judge by the king's narrative, and the eloquent ora- tions of Mr Patrick Galloway, this neglect on the part of the earl seems to have been regarded as not the least criminal part of his conduct : and with justice ; for his royal highness had been riding hard since seven o'clock, and it was past two before he could get a morsel, which, when it did come, bore evident marks of being hastily slubbered up. As soon as the king was set down to dinner, the earl sent for Andrew Hen- dei-son, whom he conducted up to the gallery, where the master was waiting for them. After some short conversation, during which Gowrie told Henderson to do any thing his brother bade him, the younger Ruthven locked this attendant into the little round closet within the gallery chamber, and left him tiiere. Henderson began now, according to his own account, to suspect that something- wrong was in agitation, and set himself to pray, in great perturbation of mind. Meanwhile, the earl of Gowrie returned to take his place behind the chair of his royal guest. When the king had dined, and Lennox, Mar, and the other noblemen in waiting, had retired from t!ie dining-room to the hall to dine in their turn, Alexander Ruthven came and whispered to the king, to find some means of getting rid of his brother the earl, from whom he load all along pre- tended great anxiety to keep the story of the found treasure a secret. '1 he king filled a bumper, and, drinking it ofi', desired Gowrie to carry his pledge to the noblemen in the hall. While they were busy I'etiu'ning the health, the king and the master passed quietly through the hall, and ascended the great stair which led to the gallery. Tliey did not, however, pass altogether unob- served, and some of the royal train made an attempt to follow them, but were re- pelled by Ruthven, who alleged the king's wish to be alone. From the gallery they passed into the chamber at the end of it, and the door of this room Ruthven appears to have locked behind him. When the noblemen had dined, they inquired after their master, but were informed by Gowrie that he had retired, and wished to be private. The earl immediately called for the keys of the garden, whither he Avas followed by Len- nox and part of the i-oyal train ; wiiilst Mar, with the rest, remained in the house. John Ramsay, a favourite page of the king, says in his deposition, that, on rising from table, he had agreed to take charge of a hawk for one of the servants, in order to allow the man to go to dinner. He seems, while thus engaged, to have missed Gowrie's explanation of the king's absence, for he sought his majesty in the dining-room, in the garden, and afterwards in the gallery. He had never befoi-e seen this gallery, which is said — we know not upon what authority — to have been richly adorned with paintings by the earl's fatlier, and he staid some time admiring it. On coming down stairs, he found the whole of the king's attendants hurrying towards the outer gate, and was told by Thomas Cranstone, one of the eai-l's servants, that the king had rode on before. Ramsay, on hearing this, i-an to the stable ^vhere liis horse was. Len- nox anr tiie many blessings which Iiad fallen to his lot ; of which he did not consider as tlie least the numerous marks of esteem and regard evinced by his old pupils, with whom he was ever delighted to renew a kindly intercourse. His death Avas deeply regretted by the society of which he had been so long a member, and by the inhabitants of (Glasgow, where he was very generally respected and esteemed. In 1776, Mr Jardine married IMiss Lindsay of (ilasgow, whom he survived about twelve years, and by whom he had one son, now an advocate at the bcot^ tisli bar, and recently appointed sheriff of Ross and Cromarty. JOHNSTON, (Sir) Archibald, of Warriston, (a judge by the designation of lord \\ arrision,) an eminent lawyer and statesman, was the son of James .lohnston of Beirholm in Annandale, a descendant of the family of Johnston in Aberdeen- shire, and who for some time followed a commercial life in Edinburgh, being mentioned in a charter of 1608, as " the king's merchant." The mother of tlie suhjeft of our memoir was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Thomas ("raig, the first great lawyor ]ir(idurcd by Si;oiIai!d, and whose life ii.is already been given in the 252 JOHNSTON. present work. Of the date of the birth of Archibald Johnston, and the circum- stances of his education, no memorial has been preserved: he entered as advo- cate in 1633. In the great national disturbances which commenced in 1637, Jolmston took an early and distinguished part ; acting, apparently, as only second to Sir Thomas Hope in giving legal advice to the covenanters. The second or general supplication of the nation to Charles I. for relief from his episcopal innovations was prepared by the earl of Rothes and Archibald John- ston •, the former being preferred on account of his distinction as an active and influential partisan, and the latter from the general character given of him by his friends, as singularly well acquainted with the history and constitution of the genuine pi-esbyterian church of Scotland. This document, which was presented to the privy council on the 24th of September, 1637, in the presence of a band of the supporters of its principles, which made the act more solemn than a regal pageant, leaves for the politicians of all ages a fine specimen of that calmness in reasoning and statement which men of judgment and principle know to be necessary for the preservation of order in a state, when they are representing grievances, however deep, to a governor, however unxeasonable ; and of that firmness of position, whicii, when supported by a iiold of popular opinion, must either be allowed to prevail, or leave to him who obstructs it the odium of the confusion which may follow. After the supplicants, who had increased to a vast body of men, spreading over the whole of the southern part of Scotland, had united themselves under a representative constitution, termed " the Tables," a renewal of ihe national covenant was judged a useful measure for a combination of efll>rt, and the insurance of a general union and purpose. Johnston and tlie celebrated Alexander Henderson were employed to suit the revered obliga- tion to which their ancestors had sworn, to the new purpose for which it was applied, by including the protestations against the liturgy of the episcopal church, under the general declarations which it previously bore against the doc- trine of the church of Kome, and adducing authorities in support of the new ap- plication. The obligation was signed in March, 1638, under circumstances too well known to be recapitulated.^ Johnston, although from his secondary rank, he did not then assume the au- thority of a leader, was, from his knowledge and perseverance, more trusted to in the labours of the opposition than any other man, and his name continually recurs as the agent in every active measure. To the unyielding and exasperat- ing proclamation, which Avas read at the market-cross of Edinburgh on the 22nd of February, 1638, he prepared and read aloud, on a scafibld erected for the purpose, the celebrated protestation in name of the Tables, while the dense crowd who stood around prevented the issuers of the proclamation from depart- ing before they heard the answer to their challenge. On the Sth of July, the king issued another proclamation, which, though termed " A proclamation of favour and grace," and though it promised a maintenance of the religion pre- sently/ professed vjitliintJie kingdom without innovation, an interim suspension of the service book, a rectification of the high commission, and the loudly called for general assembly and parliament, was, with reason, deemed more dangerous tiian a defiance. Johnston had a protestation prepared for the delicacy of this trying occasion, which, with the decorum from which he seems on no occasion to have departed, he, " in all humility, with submissive reverence," presented in presence of the multitude.^ When, on the 22nd of September, the parliament and ' For such matters connected with this period as are here, to prevent repetition, but slight- ly alluded to, vide the memoirs of Henderson ; of Montrose; and of the first duke of Hamil- ton, in this collection. * Bafour's Ann;ds, ii. 276. JOHNSTON. 253 general assemlily uere proclaimed, he prepared another protestation in a similar tone to the former, Nvliich he read in his own name, and in that of the earl of Montrose, for tlie nobles ; Gibson younger of Diirie for the barons ; George Por- terfiekl, merchant in Glasgow, for the burghs; and Henry Pollock, minister of Edinburgh, for the clergy. It will be easily conjectured that, at the period when he was thus publicly employed, Johnston was privately acting as a partisan of the covenant, and an enemy of prelacy and arbitrary power, by all the means which a political agent invariably uses. At such a period the more we can trace tlie private proceedings and feelings of the public man, the better can we hold him up as a biographical example. As the only curious document con- nected with our subject at this period of his existence, we give the following somewhat nmtilated letter to Johnston, from a person who does not choose to sign his name ; it is characteristic of the feeling of the party, and of the occu- pation of the subject of our memoir ; and if to a speculative politician it may breathe an illiberal spirit, let him remember that there never existed a party, however pure, which did not wish to suppress the opposite party, and that not having power and numbers on their side, the opjjoncnts of tlie covenant were in the situation of disturbers of society, in as far as they wished to impose rules on the whole kingdom. " Fur Mr AicliiliaKl Johnston of Warriston, advorate. " Dear Christian brother and counigeous ProtesUmt, — Upon some rumour of the Prelate of St Antlrews, his coming over the water, and finding it altogether inconvenient that he or any of that k)nd should show themselves peacably in publicke, some course was taken how hee might be enterteyned in such places fts he should come unto : we are now informed that hee (will) not come, but that Broughcn is in Edinburgh or thereabout; it is the advjce of your friends here, that in a private way some course may be taken for his terror and disgrace if he offer to show himself in pui^lifk. T'link upon the best r . . .by the advyce of jour Irltuds there, i liar that tlieir publick appearance at Glasgow shall be prejudicial! to our cause. We are going to take order (with) his cheefe supporters there, GlaidsUiines, Skr\ mgoor, and Hall} burton . . . Wishing you both protection and direction from your maister, I con- tinew, J cure owne *vhome you know. G. " 281 fi October, 1638." » Such was the feeling in whicli the leaders of the Covenant prepared them- selves for the renowned General Assembly held at Glasgow in Novendjer and De- cember, 1G38. On tliat occasion Johnston was, by a unanimous vote, chosen clerk of the assembly. On its being discovered that his precursor had been enabled to procure only two of the seven volumes of minutes of the general as- semblies held since the Reformation, the moderator, probably in pursuance of a preconcerted measure, called upon all those wIhj were aware of the existence of any others, to give information on the subject to the assembly. Johnston here- upon produced the other five volumes — how mittee of management, dated the 30th of September, 1640.^ When this treaty was transferred to London, Johnston was chosen a member of the committee, along witli Henderson, as supernumeraries to those appointed from the Estates, and probably with the peculiar duty of watching over the intei-ests of the church, " because many things may occurre concerning the church and assemblies thereof."" The proceedings and achievements of this body are so mcII known, that, in an article Avhich aims at giving such memorials of its subject, as are not to be readily met with in the popular histories, they need not be repeated. On the 25th day of September, 1641, Johnston produced in parliament a petition that he might be exonerated from all responsibility as to the public measures with which he had for the previous four years been connected, mentioning tlie 5 Burnet, 37, 39. 41. « Tjaiiig, iii. 194. ' Act. Pari., v. 293. 8 Act. Tar., v. 311. » Balfour's An., ii. 408. n' Half. An., ii. 416. JOHNSTON. 25T important office uli:,:h he held as adviser to the commissioners attending on tlie motions at the camp, and the duties he was called on to perform at the treaty of Rippon and London ; and observing, that it has been considered necessary that others so employed should have their conduct publicly examined in parlia- ment, he craves tiiat all requisite inquiry may immediately be made as to his own proceedings ; that, if he has done any thing " contrair to tlieir instructions, or prejudicial! to the publict, he may undergoe that censure which the wrongers of the countrey and abusers of such great trust deserves ;" but if it has been found that he has done his duty, " then," he says, " doe 1 in all humility begg, that, seing by God's assistance and blessing the treattie of peace is closed, and seeing my employment in thir publict business is now at an end, that before I returne to my private affaires and calling, from the which these four yeires I have been continually distracted, I may obtaine from his gracious majesty and your lordships, an exoneration of that charge, and an approbation of my former ca- riage." The exoneration was granted, and the act ratifying it stated, that after due examination, the Estates found that Johnston had " faithfullie, diliegentlie, and cairfullie behaved himselff* in the foresaid chairge, employments, and trust put upon him, in all the passages thairof, as he justly deserves thair treu testi- nionie of his approven fidelitie and diligence." " In IGil, when the king paid his pacificatory visit to Scotland, Johnston ob- tained, among others, a liberal peace-offering. He had fixed his eyes on the office of lord register, probably as bearing an affinity to his previous occupa- tions ; but the superior influence of Gibson of Uurie prevailed in competition for that situation : he received, however, the commission of an ordinary lord of session, along with a liberal pension, and the honours of knighthood. During the sitting of the parliament we find him appointed as a commissioner, to treat with the king on the supplementary matters which were not concluded at the treaty of Rippon, and to obtain the royal consent to the acts passed during the session. Much about the same period, he was appointed, along with others, to make search among the records contained in the castle, for points of accusation against the *' incendiaries ;" the persons whom he and his colleagues had just displaced in the offices of state and judicature. It may be sufficient, and will save repetition, to mention, that we find him appointed in the same capacity which we have already mentioned, in the recommissions of the conunittee of Es- tates, and in the other connnittees, chosen to negotiate with ihe king, similar to tliose we have already described, among which may be noticed the somewhat menacing committee of IGll, appointed to treat as to commerce, the naturaliza- tion of subjects, tlie demands as to war with foreigners, the Irish rebellion, and particularly as to " the brotherlie supplie and assistance" of the English parlia- ment to the Scottish army.'' In the parliament of 1G43, Sir Archibald Johnston represented the county of Edinburgh, and was appointed to the novel situation of speaker to the barons, as a separate estate. In this capacity, on the 7th of June, 1G44, he moved the house to take order concerning the " unnatural rebellion " of Montrose,'^ and somewhat in the manner of an impeachment, he moved a remonstrance af^ainst the earl of Carnwath, followed by a conunission to make trial of his conduct, along with that of Traquair, of which Johnston was a member.'^ Durin" the period when, as a matter of policy, the Scots in general suspended tiieir judg- ment between the contending parties in England, Warriston seems early to liave felt, and not to have concealed, a predilection for the cause of the parliament, i» Act Pari., V. 4^14. 12 Act. Par., v. .357, 371, 372, 489, &c. '3 Hnltburs Anecdotes, iii, 177. " Act Pail., vi. U.S. ni. 2 K 258 JOHNSTON. and was the person ivlio moved that the general assembly should throw the weight of their opinion in that scale.'^ Johnston had been named as one of the commissioners, chosen on the 9tli August, 1643, for the alleged purpose of mediating betwixt Charles I. and his parliament ; but Charles, viewing him as a dangerous opponent, objected to providing him with a safe conduct, and he appears to have remained in Edin- burgh. He, however, conducted a correspondence with the commissioners who i-epaired to London, as a portion of which, the subjoined letter to him from the earl of Loudon, which throws some light on the policy of the Scots at that juncture, may be interesting.^® '* A curious evidence of Ins opinions, and the motives of his political conduct at this period, exists, in the form of some remarks on the aspect of the times, which appear to have been addressed to his friend lord Loudon. The manuscript is in scroll, very irregukirly written, and with numerous corrections-, circumstances which will account for any unintelligibility in the portion we extract. It bears date the 21st of June, 1642. " Seeing thir kingdoms most stand and fall together, and that at the first design in all thir late troubles, so the last ef- fort of thes evil counsels prevailing stil to the suppression of religion and liberty and the erec- tion of poperye and arbitrary power, it is earnestlye desyrd by good Christians and patriots that the question of the warr be right stated, as a warr for religion and libertie, against papists and prelates, and their abackers and adherents; and that now, in thair straits and dif- ficulties, they might enter in a covenant witli God and amongst themselves, for the reforma- tion of the churche, abolishing of popery and prelacy out of England and Scotland, and preservation of the roule and peace of thir kjngdoms, q'' without dimunition of his majes- ty's authorities, might not only free them of fears from this, bot also fill them with hopes of their bearing alongst with their proceedings the hearts and confidence of thir kingdoms. Pitmajlie may remember weal what of this kynd was motioned at Kippon, and spoken of agayne, when the English armye was reported to be comyng up."— Wodroiv's Papers, Ad. Lib. vol. Ixvi. 16 " ]\iy lord,' — The sending of commissioners fiom the parliament here to the parliament of Scotland at this tyme, was upon the sudden moved in the House of Commons (befcir wee wer acquainted thereof J by the solicitor, and seconded by some who profes to be C freinds as a greater testimonie of respect than the sending of a letter alone, and was in that sens ap- proved by the whole hous, who, I believe, does it for no other end, neither is ther any other instructions given by the house than these, whereof the copy is sent to you, which ar only generall for a good correspondence betwixt the two kingdomes. Bot I cannot forbear to tell you my apprehensiones, that the intention and designs of some particular persons in sending down at this tyme, and in such a juncture of afi'aires (when ther is so great rumor of division and factiones in Scotland), is by them to learne tlie posture of business ther in the pari', assemblies, and kingdome, that they may receave privat information from them, and make ther applieationes and uses thereof accordinglie. That which confirms this opinion to me the more, is, that the sending of these persones to Scotland was moved and seconded by such as profes themselves to be o' freinds w'out giveing us any notice thereof till it was done ; and the day before it was motioned, they and yo'' old friend Sir Henry Vaine younger, wer at a consultation together, and yo"^ Iop : knowes how much power Sir Henrie Vain lies with Sir W"" Armyne and Mr Bowils.* Sir William Arm^ne is a very honest gentle- men, but Mr Bowlls is very deserving, and doubtless is sent (thoghe not of intention of the pari') as a spy to give privat intelligence to some who are jealous and curious to understand how all affairs goe in Scotland. Thomsone I hear is a Independent, and (if he goe not away before I can meitt with some freinds) I shall c'tryve tliat there may be a snare laid in his gaitt to stay his journey ; they wold be used with all civili- tie "when they come, bot yo"' loP : and others wold be verie warie and circomspect in all yC proceedings and deallings w' them •, seeing the hous of pari' and all such heir as desyres a happie and weell-grounded peace, or a short and prosperous warre, ar desyr- ous that the Scottish armie advance southward (although I dare not presume to give any positive judgment without pres^se knowledge of the condition and posture of o"' own kingdom), I cannot see any human means so probable and l^klie to setle religion and peace, and make o"' nation the more considerable, as the advancing of o"" armie southward if the turbulent comotions and rud distractions of Scotland may permitt, nor is it possible that so great an armie can be longer entertained by the northern counties, so barren and much waisted with armies; nor can it be expected that the pari' of England can be at so great charge as the entertainment of that armie (if they did reallie intertain them), unless they be more useful for the caus and publick service of both kingdomes than to lye still in thes northern counties, being now reduced, and Llie king to vexe the south with forces equall to theirs ; bot there n«eds not arguments to prove this poynt, unless that base crewe of Irish rebells and their perfidious confederates, and the unnatural factions of o' countrymen for- * The English comtnissioners were— the earl of Rutland, Sir William Armyne, Sir Henry Vane (ynunger), Thomas Thatcher, and Henry Daruly. JOHNSTON. 259 We find Johnston sent to London, on the 4th of July, 1641, and it is pro- bable tliat, before that time, he had managed to visit England without the cere- monial of a safe-guard from the falling monarch ; and on the Oth of January, 1645, we find him along with Mr Robert Barclay, " tuo of our coinmissioneis lattlie returned from London," reporting the progress of their proceedings to the house.'' The proceedings of this commission, and of the assembly of divines at Westminster, with which Warriston had a distinguished connexion, may be passed over as matters of general history. Warned, probably, by the cautious intimations of the letter we have just quoted, Johnston was the constant atten- dant of the English commissioners on their progress to Scotland, and was the person who moved their business in the house. '^ On the death of Sir Thomas Hope, in 1646, Johnston had the influence to succeed him as lord advocate, an office for which he seems to have seasoned himself by his numerous motions against malignants. With a firm adherence to his previous political conduct, .(ohnston refused accession to the well-known engagement which the duke of Hamilton conducted as a last effort in behalf of the unfortunate monarch. On the 10th of January, 1649, the marquis of Argyle delivered a speech, " wich he called the brecking of the malignants' teith, and that he quho was to speake after him, (viz. Warriston) wolde brecke ther jawes." Argyle found the teeth to be five, which he smashed one by one : — " His first was against the ingagers being statesmen, and intrusted with great places, quho had broken their trust. II. Against the engagers' committeemen, quho by ther tyranny had opprest the subjects. III. Against declared maligants, formerlye fyned in parliament, or remitted, and now agayne relapsed. IV. Against thesse that wer eager promotters of the laitt ingagement with England. V. Against suche as had petitioned for the advancement of the levey." After these were demo- lished, Johnston commenced his attack on the toothless jaws; he "read a speache two houres in lenthe, off his papers, being ane explanatione of Argyle's five heads, or teith, as he named them ; with the anssuei'ing of such objects he thought the pryme ingagers wolde make in their aw en defence against the housse now convened, wich they did not acnouledge to be a lawfuU parliament.'"^ On the 6th of January, the imminent danger of the king prompted the choosing a committee to act for his safety under instructions. The instructions were fourteen ; and the most remarkable and essential, was, that a protest should be taken against any sentence pronounced against tiie king. " That this king- dome may be free of all the dessolatione, misery, and bloodshed, that incertablie will follow tliereupone, without offering in your ressonc, that princes ar eximed from triall of justice."-" This was by no means in opposition to the princijties which Johnston had previously professed, but his mind appears to have been linally settled into a deep opposition to all monarchy. Along with Argyle he distin- guished himself in opposing the instructions, by a method not honourable to their memory — a jiroposition that the measure should be delajcd for a few days, to permit a fast to be held in the interim. One of the last of his ministerial getting o'' covenant, ar grown to such a liiglit of mischecf ami misery, as to make sudi a rent at home as to disable us to assist o'' freinds, and proMCUte that cause which 1 am con- fident God will carrie one and jierfvle against' all oppo.sitione •, and in confulcnce thereof 1 sliall encourage myselfe, and rejoyce under hope, aitlioghe I sliould never sie the end of itt, 1 beseache you to haist back this bearer, aiid let me know with liim the condition of allairs in Scotland ; how o'' good freinds are, and how soon we maj- expect jC returne hither, or if 1 must come to you befoir ye come to us. I referr the marquiss of Argjle and my lord B;il- merinoch, and other freinds to you for intelligence, to spaii- paines and supply the want of leasure ; and will siiy noc more at this tyme, bot that 1 am ^our mostali'ectionate and faithful] friend, LounouNK." — Wodnm's MS. Collection, vol. Ixvi. 'T\\c letter is dated from 'Worcesler house, .lanuarv 6, 16 14. " Balf. An', iii. 204,248. >8 Ibid, 262. i* Ibid, 3r/. -» Ibid, 3S4. 260 JOHNSTON. acts as lord atlvocate, was the proclamation of Cliarles IT. on the 5th of February, 1649 ; and he was on the 10th of March, in the same year, appointed to his long-looked-for post of lord register, in place of Gibson of Durie, super- seded by the act of classes. At the battle of Dunbar, in 1650, he was one of the committee of the estates appointed to Superintend the military motions of Leslie, and was urgent in pressing the measure which is reputed to have lost the day to the Scots. He was naturally accused of treachery, but the charge h.is not been supported. ** Waristoun," says Burnet, " was too hot, and Lesley was too cold, and yielded too easily to their humours, which he ought not to have done ;""' and the mistake may be attributed to the obstinacy of those, who, great in the cabinet and conventicle, thought they must be equally great in war. Warriston was among the few persons who in the committee of estates refused to accede to the treaty of Charles II. at Breda ; an act of stubborn consistency, which, joined to others of a like nature, sealed his doom in the royal heart. After the battle of J)unbar, the repeal of the act of classes, which was found necessary as a means of re-constructing the army, again called forth his jaw-breaking powers. He wTote " a most solid letter" on the subject to the meeting held at St Andrews, July 18, 1651, which appears never to have been read, but Avhich has been preserved by the careful Wodrow^^ for the benefit of posterity. He wrote several short treatises on " the sinfulness of joining malignants," destroying their jaws in a very considerate and logical manner. One of these is extant, and lays down its aim as follows : " The first question concerning the sinfulness of the publick resolutions, hath bene handled in a former tractat. The other question remaines, anent y* sin- fulness and unlawfulness of the concuiTence of particular persons." The ques- tion is proposed in the following terms : — " viz\ when God's covenanted people intrusts God's covenanted interest to the power of God's anti-covenanted ene- mies, though upon pretence to fight against ane other anti-covenanted enemy — whether a conscienscious covenanter can lawfuUie concurre with such a partie in such a cause, or may lawfullie abstane, and rather give testimonie by suffering against both parties and causes, as sinfuU and prejudiciall to God's honour and interest. It is presupposed a dutie to oppose the common enemie. The ques- tion is anent the meanes of resisting the unjust invader." " Three things premitted. I. The clearing of terms. II. Some distinctions. 111. Some conjunctions handled."^ The postulates are, perhaps, i-ather too sweeping for general opinion, but, presuming them to be granted, the reasonings of this lay divine are certainly sufficiently logical within their naiTow space, and may have appeared as mathematical demonstrations to those who admitted the deep sin of accepting assistance from opponents in religious opinion. This re- sistance appears, however, to have been of a negative nature, and not to have extended to the full extremity of the remonstrance of the west ; at least when called on for an explanation by the committee of Estates, he declined owning connexion with it : " Warreston did grant that he did see it, was at the voting of it, but refussed to give his votte therin. He denayed that he wes accessorey to the contriving of it at first."-* After this period he appears to have been for some time sick of the fierce politics in which he had been so long engaged, and to have retired himself into the bosom of a large family. He is accused by a contemporary — not of much credit — of peculation, in having accepted sums of money for the disposal of offices under him ; and the same person in the same page states the improba- ble circumstance of his having restored the money so gained, on all the offices ■-'i Buniet, 83. 22 WocI row's Colleclion, Ad. Lib. xxxii. 6, 15. '■^ Ibid, 16. 21 Half. An iv. 169. Scots VS ortliics, 275. JOHNSTON, 261 being abolished by Cromwell, iind that he was not affluent, having " conquest no lands but Wan-iston,^ of the avail of 1000 merks Scots a-year, where he now lives freed of trouble of state or counti-y."^ He was a member of the committee of protestors, who in 1657, proceeded to London to lay their complaints before the government. Cromwell knew the value of the man he had before him, and persuaded him to try the path of am- bition under the new government. Wodrow and others have found it convenient to palliate his departure from the adherence to royalty, as an act for which it was necessary to find apologies in strong calls of interest, and facility of temper. It will, however, almost require a belief in all the mysteries of divine right, to discover why TVarriston should have adhered to royalty without power, and how the opinions he always professed should have made him prefer a factious support of an absent prince to the service of a powerful leader, his early friend and co- adjutor in opposing hereditary loyalty. On the 9th of July, 1657, he was re-appointed clerk register, and on the 3rd of November in the same year, he was named as one of the commissioners for the administration of justice in Scotland."-' Cromwell created Johnston a peer, and he sat in the protector's upper house, with the title of lord Warriston, oc- cupying a station more brilliant, but not so exalted as those he had previously filled. After the death of Cromwell, Warriston displayed his sti'ong opposition to the return of royalty, by acting as president of the committee of safety under Richard Cromwell. Knowing himself to be marked out for destruction, he tied at the Restoration to France, it is painful, after viewing a life spent with honour and courage, in the highest trusts, to trace this great man's life to an end which casts a blot on the times, and on the human race. He was charged to appear before the Estates ; and having been outlawed in the usual form, on the lOih October, 1661, a reward of 5000 merks was offered for his apprehension. By a fiction of law, the most horrible which a weak government ever invented for protection against pov.erful subjects, but which, it must be acknowledged, was put in force by Warriston and his confederates against Montrose, an act of forfeiture in absence passed against him, and he was condemned to death on the 15th of May, 1661. The principal and avowed articles of accusation against him were, his official prosecution of the royalists, and particularly of Gordon of Newton, his connexion with the Remonstrance, his sitting in parliament as a peer of England, and his accepting office under Cromwell. It was necessary that the victim of judicial vengeance should be accused of acts which the law knows as crimes ; and acts to which the best protectors of Charles the Second's throne were accessary, were urged against this man. For the hid- den causes of his prosecution we must however look in his ambition, the in- fluence of his worth r^nd talents, and the unbending consistency of his political principles ; causes to which \\ odrow has added his too ungracious censure of regal vice. In the mean time, Johnston had been lurking in Germany and the Low Coun- tries, from which, unfortunately for himself, he proceeded to France. A con- fidant termed " major Johnston," is supposed to have discovered his retreat ; and a spy of the name of Alexander IMurray, commonly called " crooked 3Iur. ray," was employed to hunt him out. This individual, narrowly watching the motions of lady Warriston, discovered his dwelling in Rouen, and ^^ith consent of the council of France, he \\r\s brought prisoner to England, and lodged in the Tower on the 8th of June, 1663 ; thence he was brought to Edinburgh, not ** A small estjite so rear Edinburgli as to be now encroached upon by its suburbs. 26 M,(.i of Scolstar vet's Stag. Stiite, 127. ^ tlaigand Brunton's Hist. Colligc of .Justice, 308. 262 JOHNSTON. for the purpose of being tried, but to suffer execution of the sentence passed on him in absence. When presented to parliament to receive sentence, it was ap- parent that age, hardship, and danger, had done their work effectually on his iron nerves ; and the intrepid advocate of the covenant exhibited the mental im- becility of an idiot. His friends accused Dr Bates of having administered to him deleterious drugs, and weakened him by bleeding ; an improbable act, which would have only raised unnecessary indignation against those who already had liiin sufficiently in their power. The apostate Sharpe, and his other enemies, are said to have ridiculed the sick lion ; but there were at least a few of his op- ponents not too hardened to pity the wreck of a great intellect before them."® Probably affected by the circumstances of his situation, some of the members showed an anxiety for a little delay ; but Lauderdale, who had received impera- tive instructions regarding him, fiercely opposed the proposition. He was sen- tenced to be hanged at the cross of Edinburgh on the 2-2nd of July, his head be- ing to be severed from his body, and placed beside that of his departed brother in tiie cause, Guthrie. Of the mournful pageant we extract the following char- acteristic account from Wodrow : " The day of his execution, a high gallows or gibbet was set up at the cross, and a scaffold made by it. About two o'clock he was taken from prison ; many of his friends attended him in mourning. When he came out, he was full of holy cheerfulness and courage, and as in perfect serenity and composure of mind as ever he was. Upon the scafibld he acknowledged his compliance with the English, and cleared himself of the least share of the king's death- He read his speecii with an audible voice, first at the north side and then at the south side of the scafibld : he prayed next, with the greatest liberty, fervour, and sense of his own unworthiness, frequently using the foresaid expression. After he had taken his leave of his friends, he prayed again in a perfect rapture ; being now near the end of that sweet work he had been so much employed about through his life, and felt so much sweetness in. Then the napkin being tied upon his head, he tried how it would fit him, and come down and cover his face, and directed to the method how it should be brought down when he gave the sign. When he was got to the top of the ladder, to which he was helped, because of bodily weakness, he cried with a loud voice, * I beseech you all who are the people of God, not to scar [be scared] at sufferings for the interests of Christ, or stumble at any thing of this kind falling out in those days ; but be encouraged to sufter for him; for I assure you, in the name of the Lord, he will bear your charges.' This he repeated again with great fervour, while the rope was tying about his neck, adding, ' The Lord hath graciously comforted me.' Then he asked the executioner if he was ready to do his office, who answering he was, he bid him 28 One of these was M'Kenzie, who, with uncharitable and improbable inferences, draws the following graphic picture of the scene: — " He was brought up the street discovered [un- covered]; and being brought into the council house of Edinburgh, where the chancellor and others wiited to examine him, he fell upon his face roaring, and with tears entreated they would pit)- a poor creature who had forgot idl that was in his bible. This moved all the spec- tators with a deep melancholy; and the chancellor, reflecting upon the man's former esteem, and the great share he had in all the Jate revolutions, could not deny some tears to the frailty of silly mankind. At his examination he pretended that he had lost so much blood by the unskillfulness of his chirurgeons, that he lost his memory with his blood ; and I really believe that his courage had indeed been drawn out with it. Within a few dajs he w.'is brought before the parliament, where he discovered nothing but much weakness, I'unning up and down upon his knees begc;ing mercy. But the parliament ordained his former sentence to be put into execution, and accoidingly he was executed at the cross of Ediidjurgh. At his exe- cution he sliowed more composure than formerly, which his friends ascribed to God's miracu- lous kindness for him, but others thought that he liad only formerly put on this disguise of madness to escape death in it, and that, finding the mask useless, he had returned, not to his wit, which he had lost, but from his madness, which he had counterfeitetl." — Sii- G. M^Kcnzic s Jlnnab, 131. JOHNSTON. 263 ♦lo it, and, crying out, ' O, pray, pi'ay ! praise, praise!' was turned over, and died almost without a struggle, with his hands lift up to heaven." ^ The same partial hand lias thus drawn his cliaracter : " My lord Warriston was a man of great learning and eloquence ; of very much wisdom, and extra- oi'dinary zeal for the public cause of religion and reformation, in Avhich he was a ciiief actor ; but above all, he was extraordinary in piety and devotion, as to whicli he had scarce any equal in the age he lived in. One who was his inti- mate acquaintance says, he spent more time, notwithstanding the great throng of public business upon his hand, in prayer, meditation, and close observation of providences, and self-examination, than ever he knew or heard of: and as he was very diligent in making observations on the Lord's way, so he was visited with extraordinary discoveries of the Lord's mind, and very remarkable provi- dences. He wrote a large diary, which yet remains in the hands of his rela- tions ; an invaluable treasure of Christian experiences and observations ; and, as I am told by one who had the happiness to see some part of it, there is mixed in sometimes matters of fact very little known now, which would bring a great deal of light to the history of Scots aflairs, in that period wherein he lived."'" But his nephew Burnet, has in his usual characteristic manner, drawn a more happy picture of the stubborn statesman and hardy zealot, too vivid to be neg- lected : " Warristoun was my own uncle ; he was a man of great application, could seldom sleep above three hours in the twenty-four : he had studied the law carefully, and had a great quickness of thought, with an extraordinary memory. He went into very high notions of lengtliened devotions, in which he continued many hours a-day : he would often pray in his family two hours at a time, and had an unexhausted copiousness that wjiy. What thought soever struck his fancy during these effusions, he looked on it as an answer of prayer, and was wholly determined by it. He looked on the covenant as the setting Christ on his throne, and so was out of measure zealous in it. He had no regard to the raising himself or his family, though he had thirteen children ; but prosperity was to him more than all the world. He had a readiness and vehemence of speaking that made him very considerable in public assemblies ; and he had a fruitful invention ; so that he was at all times furnished with expedients." JOHNSTON, (Dr) Arthur, a poet and physician, was born in the year 1587, at Caskieben, the seat of his family, a few miles from Aberdeen. He was the fifth son of (ieorge Johnston of that ilk and of Caskieben, the chief of the family of Johnston, by Christian Forbes, daughter of William, seventh baron Forbes. He appears to have been named after his uncle the honourable William Forbes of Logie, who was killed at I'aris in the year 1574.' This poet, whose chief characteristic was the elegance with which he expressed his own simple feelings as a poet, in the language appropriate to the customs and feelings of a past nation, has left in his Kpigrannnata an address to his native spot ; and, although Caskieben is a piece of very ordinary Scottish scenery, it is surprising how nmch he has made of it, by the mere force of his own early associations. With the minuteness of an enthusiast, lie does not omit the circumstance, that the hill of Benochie, a conical elevation about eight miles distant, casts its shadow over Caskieben at the periods of the etjuinox. As we shall be able, by giving this epigram, to unite a specimen of the happiest original efforts of the author's genius, with circumstances personally connected with his history, we beg leave to extract it : — 2i) VVodrow, i. S'^S. * VVodrow, i. 301. INIuih s;arch has lately been made tor this interesting document, but lias proved vain. 1 Johnston's History of the Family of Johnston, 36. 234 JOHNSTON. ^mula Thessalicis en hie Jonstonia Tetnpe, Hospes ! hyperboreo fusa sub axe vides, Mille per ambages nitidis argenteus undis, Hie trepidat Isetos Urius inter agros. Explicat hie seras ingens Beiinachius umbras, Nox ubi libratur lance diesque pari. Gemmifer est amnis, radiat mons ipse lapillis, Queis nihil Eous purius orbis habet. Hie pandit natura sinum, nativaque surgens Purpura felieem sub pede ditat humum. Aera per liquidum volucres, in flumine pisees, Adspieis in pratis luxuriare pecus. Hie seges est, hie poma rubent, onerantur aristis Arva, suas £Egre susiinetarbor opes. Propter aquas arx est, ipsi contermina ceelo, Auctoris menti non tamen ajqua sui. Imperat hsee arvis et veetigalibus undis, Et famula stadiis distat ab urbe tribus. Haec mihi terra parens : gens has Jonstonia lymphas, Arvaque per eentum missa tuetur avos. Clara Marcnajis evasit Mantua cunis ; Me mea natalis nobilitabit humus. TRANSLATION. Here, traveller, a vale behold As fair as Tempe, famed of old, Beneath the northern sky ! Here Urie, with her silver waves, Her banks, in verdure smiling, laves. And winding wimples by. Here, towering high, Bennaehie spreads Around on all his evening shades. When twilight grey eomes on : With sparkling gems the river glows-, As precious stones the mountain shows As in the East are known. Here nature spreads a bosom sweet, And native dyes beneath the feet Bedeck the joyous ground : Sport in the liquid air the birds, And fishes in the stream ; the herds In meadows wanton round. Here ample barn-yards still are stored With relics of last "autumn's hoard And firstlings of this year ; There waving fields of yellow eorn, And ruddy apples, that adorn The bending boughs, appear. Beside the stream, a castle proud Rises amid the passing cloud, And rules a wide domain, ( Unequal to its lord's desert :) A village near, with lowlier art. Is built upon the plain. Here was I born ; o'er all the land Around, the Johnstons bear command, Of high and ancient line : Mantua acquired a noted name As Virgil's birthplace ; I my fame Inherit shall from mine. JOHNSTON. 265 In a similar spirit he has left aii epigram on the small burgh of Inverury, in the neighbourhood of Caskieben, in whicli he does not omit the circumstance, that the fuel of tlie inhabitants (vulgo, the peats) comes from the land in which he was born. A similai epigram to another neighbouring burgh, the royal burgh of Kintore, now holding the rank of a very small village, informs us that at the grammar school of that place lie commenced the classical studies, which afterwards acquired for him so much eminence : " Hie ego sum memini musarum fartus ulumiius, Et tiro didici verba Latina loqui." After leaving this humble seat of learning, he is said to have studied at Mari- schal college in Aberdeen ; a circumstance extremely probable, but which seems to have no other direct foundation than the conjecture of Eenson, from the vicinity of his paternal estate to that institution, and his having been afterwards elected rector of the university, an honour generally bestowed on illustrious alumni.^ Johnston, intending to study medicine, a science which it would have been in vain at that period to have attempted in Scotland, proceeded to Rome, and af- terwards Jo Padua, where he seems to have acquired some celebrity for the beauty of his earlier Latin poems, and took the degi'ee of doctor in medicine.^ He afterwards travelled through Germany, Holland, and Denmark, and finally fixed his abode in F'rancc. If he remained for a considerable period at Padua, he must have early finished his cun'iculum of study at Aberdeen, as he is said by Sir Thomas Urquhart, to have been laureated a poet in Paris at the age of twenty-three. He remained for twenty years in Fx'ance, a period during which he was twice married, to ladies whose names are unknown, but who bore him thirteen children, to transmit his name to posterity. On his return to Britain about the year 1632, probably at the reconmiendation of l^aud, who was his friend, and had commenced the rareer of court influence, Johnston was appointed physician to Charles I., a circumstance which nmst have preceded or immediately followed his arrival, as he styles himself in the first edition of his Parerga and Epigram- mata, published at Aberdeen in 1632, " Mediciis Regius." The Parerga con- sists, as its name may designate, of a variety of small pieces of poetry, which cannot be conveniently classed under a more distinct name. A few are satiiical, but the lyrical (if they may be said to come correctly under that designation) form the most interesting portion. Johnston seldom indulges in the metaphoric brilliancy which characterized the native writers in the language which he chose to use ; but he has a considerable portion of their elegance, while much of the poetry is founded on association and domestic feeling, of which he has some ex- quisitely beautiful traits, which would have been extremely pleasing had he used his vernacular tongue. He is said to have wisiied to imitate Virgil ; but those who have elevated Buchanan to the title of " the Scottish Virgil," have designated Johnston the " Scottish Ovid;" a characteristic which may apply to the versification of his Psalms, but is far from giving a correct idea of the spirit of his original pieces. It may not be displeasing to the reader who is unac- quainted with the works of this neglected author, to give an extract from one of the Parerga, addressed to his early friend and school companion \\ edder- * Benson's Life, prtfixed to Joliustou's Psiilms, vi. ^ " Quod ex Girniine numuscripio in Advocatorum Hibliotlicca, Ediiil)urgi sprvalo, infelli- gimus.'' The circumstance is mentioned in Sir Robert Sibbald's Hibliograpliia Si-ulita, wbicli tiiough not a "carmen," may be the IVIS. referred to. lit. 2 L 266 JOHNSTON. burn, — a piece strikingly depictive of the author's affectionate feelings, and pro« bably detailing the effects of excessive study and anxiety : " Cernis ut obrepens mihi, Wedderbunie, senecta Sparserit indignus per caput omne nives. Debile fit corpus, pulsis meliorlbus annis, Nee vigor ingeuii, qui fuit ante, mihi est. Tempore mutate, mores mutantur et ipsi. Nee capior studiis, qua placuere prius. Ante leves risus, et erant jocularia cordi, Nunc me morosum, difficilemque vides. Prona fit in rixas mens, et proclivis in iras, Et senio pejor cura senilis edit. His ego, quae possum, qusero medicamina morbis, Et mala, qua fas est, pellere nitor ope. Saepe quod exegi pridem, juvenile revolve Tempus, et in mentem tu mihi saepe redis. Par, memini, cum noster amorse prodidit, setas, Par genius nobis, ingeniumque fuit. Unus et ardor erat, Phoebi conscendere coUem, Inque jugo summo sistere posse pedem," &c * Benson mentions, that Johnston was a litigant in the court of session in Edinburgh, at the period of his return to Britain ; and probably the issue of his suit may account for a rather unceremonious attack in the Parerga, on advocates and agents, unblushingly addressed " Ad duos rabulas forenses, Advo- catum et Procuratorem," of whom, without any respect for the college of Jus- tice, the author says, " Magna minorque ferae, quarum paris altera lites; Altera dispcnsas, utraque digna mori," &c. On approaching the period when Johnston published his translation of tlie Psalms of David, we cannot help being struck with the circumstances under which he appears to have formed the design. Dr Eagleshani had, in the year 1620, pub- lished a criticism of considerable lengtli, for the purpose of proving that the public voice had erred in the merit it allowed to Buchanan's version of the Psalms, and modestly displaying a translation of the 104th psalm, of his own workmanship, between which and the psalms of Buchanan he challenged a comparison.^ Dr William Barclay penned a critical answer to this challenge,® and Johnston made a fierce stroke at the offender, in a satirical article in the Parerga, which he calls " Consilium Collegii Medici Parisiensis de JMania Hypermori Medicastri ," commencing " Qute Buchananaeis medicaster crimina musis Objicit, et quo se jactat inane melos ; Vidimus : et quotquot tractamus Paeonis artes, Hie vates, uno dixinius ore, furit," &c. Johnston, however, did not consider himself incapacitated to perform a work in which another had failed, and he probably, at that period, formed the reso- lution of writing a version of the psalms, which he afterwards produced, under * Mr George Chalmers has stated that Wedderburn ^ms the master of Johnston. Dr Irving aptly considers that the verses we have quoted above disprove the stii uttiiigcru mu culmcii hoc laudis, in quo col- locat me tuus affectus. Etsi tameu noniiiliil blaiiditur, quod David Ciij trjeus (quis ille vir !; pariter tecum, ut ais, sive judicat, sive errat. Quidqiiid hujus est, amo, jam amo coii- stantiam meam qusE tarn muitos milii conciiiat amicos. In quo numero ut fidenter to dein- ceps censeas, mi Jonstone, jubeo, iioii solum rogo. Quod si Deus mihi tangere et videre Germaniie solum iterum dedeiil (fiet forUisse voto citius, ut res liic fluunt) te vidobo, et dex- teram jungam, tesseram fidei et amoris. De carmine gratiam tibi habeo, magis niagis(iue habiturus, si crebro me epistolis tuis siilutaveris, in qui bus notas claras video elegantia; priscje et doctrinse. Lugd. Batiiv., xi Kalend , April. 15S8." — UjmI opera, ii. 29. Letter x\x\ui. David Chytra;us, whom Lipsius singularly does not apjioar to have known, was a man of much eminence ; he was professor of divinity at ilostock, and died pretty much advanced in jears about the year 1000. He wrote several works, among which his continuation of Albert Crantz s History of the Saxons and Vandals, and his " llistoire De la Confession d'Aux- bourg," were published previously to the date of this epistle. Lipsius had every reason to be modest on the subject of his "constancy." * M'Crie's Melville, ii. 101. 272 JOHNSTON. work, entitled " Inscriptiones Historicae Regum Scotorum, contiimata annorum serie a Fergusio I. ad Jacobum VI. Prfefixus est Gathelus, sive de gentis ori- gine, Fragmentum Andreae Melvini. Additfe sunt icones omnium regum nobilis Familias Stuartorum," 4to; and in 1603, he published at Leyden, " Hei'oes ex omni Historia Scotica Lectissimi," 4to. Both these productions have been preserved in the Delitia; Poetarum Scotorum, by the author's relative, Arthur Johnston. The former is a series of epigrammatic addresses to the Scottish monarchs, commencing with Fergus I., and duly passing through the ex- tended list, to the reigning monarch James VI ; regarding whom it is worthy of commendatory remark, that the author is more lavish of commendations on the good fortune which providence had bestowed on him, than on his talents or kingly qualities. The " Heroes " is a tissue of similar epigrams, addressed to the heroes who distinguish the reigns of the same line of kings, commencing with Ferchard, the great commander-in-chief of king Reuther. Of course, both works laud the virtues of many men who never drew breath. The merits of Johnston as a poet cannot be said to rise beyond those of the mere epigramma- tist : to the classical elegance of his Latinity, we believe few objections can be found, but he displays more of the neatness of illustration, and precise aptness of association, which may be taught, than of the inborn poetic fire; and his works are perhaps more pleasing in the restrictions of a classical tongue, than they might have been had he allowed himself to range in the freedom of his ver- nacular language. When treating those who never existed, or of whom little is known, the absence of all interest from the subject adds to the coldness of the epigram, and leaves room for the mere conceit to stand alone ; but in treating of interesting or striking events, Johnston could sometimes be lofty, and hit a chord of feeling. We might instance, as favourable specimens, the epigram to the family of the Frasers, massacred by the Clanranald in 1514, and that to Robert the Bruce. In 1609, Johnston published at Leyden, " Consolatio Christiana sub Cruce, et Iambi de Felicitate Hominis Deo reconciliati, 8vo; in 1611, he published " Iambi Sacri ;" and in 1612, '' Tetrasticha et Lemmata Sacra — Item Cantica Sacra — Item Icones Regum Judea? et Israelis. Lugd. Bat.'' Johnston died in the month of October, 1612 ; the last scene of his life is drawn by James IMelville in a letter to his uncle, dated the 25th of November ensuing ; of which we cannot avoid giving the terms, as translated by Dr M'Crie. *' Your colleague John Johnston closed his life last month. He sent for the members of the university and presbytery, before whom he made a con- fession of his faith, and professed his sincere attachment to the doctrine and dis- cipline of our church, in which he desired to die. He did not conceal his dislike of the lately erected tyranny, and his detestation of the pride, temerity, fraud, and whole conduct of the bishops. He pronounced a grave and ample eulogium on your instructions, admonitions, and example ; craving pardon of God and you, for having offended you in any instance, and for not having borne more meekly with your wholesome and friendly anger. As a memorial, he has left you a gilt velvet cap, a gold coin, and one of his best books. His death would have been a most mournful event to the church, university, and all good men, had it not been that he has for several years laboured under an incurable disease, and that the ruin of the church has swallowed up all lesser sorrows, and exhausted our teai's."'^ We learn that he had married Catharine Melville of the family of Carribee — " Maidmeiit's Catalogues of Scots Writers, 14— Sibbald's Bibliotheca Scottica, MS., 49- There is some diflerence in the names, as recorded by these two writers, and never hiiviiig seen the works themselves, we take wliat appear to be the more correct titles. ' M'Crie's Melville, ii. 284. JOHNSTON. 273 but at what period seems not to be known — and he has left behind Iii;ii epitaphs on her and their two children. It appeai-s that in IfiOO, he had been solicited to become " second minister" of Haddington. Besides the works already men- tioned, there exist, or did exist by him in 3IS. in the Advocates' Library, Ui^i ^Ti(pxi/ai/ sive de coronis Martyrum in Scotia Liber Unus, — De coronis Martyrum in Anglia Libellus alter, — and Peculium Ecclesias Scoticanae, et alia quaedam Poemata." He wrote epigrams on the chief towns of Scotland, which have been appropriately inserted in Cambden's Britannia ; and some of his let- ters are to be found in the correspondence of that eminent antiquary. Andrew Melville says, " Mr Johne Davidsone left sum nots behind of our tyme, and so did Mr Johne Johnstoun :" what has become of these we know not. JOHiVSTON, Robert, an historian, ex:isted in the earlier part of the seven- teenth century. The works of this individual are well known, but he has not achieved personal eminence ; and we neither know when lie was born, nor the station which he occupied in life. At Amsterdam was printed in 1655, his " Historia Rerum Britannicarum, ut et multarum (jallicarum, Belgicarum, et Germanicarum, tarn politicarum, qiiam ecclesiasticarum, ab anno 1572, ad 1628." This work was intended as a continuation of Buchanan ; and bishop Nichol- son, no bestower of heedless praise, appeal's to think tiiat it nearly equals ia style the work whicli it imitated.' The late lord Woodhouselee, a less scrupu- lous critic where a Scotsman was concerned, calls it " A work of great merit, whether we consider the judicious structure of the narrative, the sagacity of the reflections, the acute discernment of characters, or the classical tincture of the Style. Li those passages of his history," says this writer, " where there is room for a display of eloquence, he is often singularly happy in touching those char- acteristic circumstances which present the picture strongly to the mind of the reader, without a vain parade of words, or artificial refinement of sentiment. We may cite as an example, his description of the death of Mary, queen of Scots, lib. iv. sub anno, 15S6 : and the circumstances attending the death of Essex, with tlie author's reflections on that event, lib. ix. sub anno, 1G41." The same author farther mentions that Robert Johnston was one of the execu- tors of George Heriot, the founder of the hospital." Johnston, besides this extensive work, wrote " The History of Scotland during the minority of James VL," published at London in I GIG. Wodrow mentions an " Epitome Histo- riae Rerum Britannicarum," ptiblisiied, according to his account, in 12mo, in 164)2, some time previously to the appearance of the larger work.'' Sir Robert Sibbald seems to find nothing more remarkable to tell us about Johnston, than that he was on intimate terms with Bruce, baron of Kinloss. " Robertas Jonstonus baroni Killosensi Hrusio dum viveret, charus : vir varias lectionis, egregiae eruditionis, limati judicii." He mentions that Johnston is said to have died in 1G30, and gives us an epigram on iiis history from the pen of Joannes Owen.* There is in the Advocates' Library a ponderous manuscript History of Scotland, by a person of the name of Johnston, and generally understood to be at least partly written by the subject of our memoir. The manuscript has belonged to lord Fairfax, and at the conmiencement is the following note in liis handwriting : " Of the gift of Mr David Johnston, burgess of Edinburgh, itt beinge tlie labour of his late father and grandfather, (the first draught.) A transcript ' Nicholson's Scottish Historical Librarj , 121. * Tyller's Karnes, i. Ap. i. ' Wodrow's (yatalojues of Scottish Wiifcis. 14. ♦ Sihbaldi Kiblioth. Scot. MS., 221. '"• 2 M 274 JONES. whereof he reserves to himself, (but is not all printed ) nor is ther any coppy iherof, but onlye this, beinge for the most part a translation of Bucquhanan, but with very many additions not thought fit to publish. Fairfax 20th Octo- ber, 1655." JONES, Paul, (originally John Paul,) a nautical genius of no ordinary char- acter and endowments, was born at Arbigland, in the parish of Kirkbean, and stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in the month of July, 1747. He was the reputed son of John Paul, who acted as gardener to Mr Craik of Arbigland, by his wife, who had been cook to the same gentleman. It was generally believed, how- ever, that Mr Craik was the real father of this extraordinary adventurer. The education of Paul Jones — to use the name which he assumed in after life — was in no respect different from that usually given in Scotland to boys of his rank ; and it is not recorded that he showed any symptoms, while at school, of that capacity by which he was undoubtedly distinguished in advanced life. From his earliest years he manifested a decided predilection for a seafaring life, and at the age of twelve, was apprenticed as a mariner to a Mr Young, a respectable merchant in Whitehaven, whence he made his first voyage in 1760, in the ship Friendship of that port, under the care of a captain Benson, for the Rappahannoc, Virginia. Living on the shore of the Sohvay, all the amusements and ideas of young Paul seeiu to have been from his very cradle maritime. While yet a mere child he lioisted his mimic flag, rendezvoused his tiny fleet, and gave forth his orders to his imaginary captains, with all the consequence of a veteran commander. The town of Dumfries was at this period deeply engaged in American trade, parti- cularly in importing tobacco, and the Nith being too shallow to float the larger vessels up to the town, their cargoes were discharged at Carse-thorn, on the Gal- loway coast, where the subject of this memoir was a daily observer of their op- erations, and not unfrequently ventured to challenge the modes of procedure folloAved by experienced seamen. Here, too, he had early and abundant opportunities of becoming acquainted with the colonists engaged in that traffic, whose bold and liberal sentiments seem, at a very early period of his life, to have made the New World, as he afterwards expressed himself, " the country of liis fond election." These early impressions were doubtless aided by the circum- stance of an elder brother having settled there, and being in the full enjoyment of the peace and the plenty with which, so long as the states were submissive colonies of Great Britain, it Avas universally admitted the inhabitants were gen- erally blessed. With this brother he made his abode during the time his ship ivas in the Rappahannoc on his first voyage, and most probably on his subse- quent voyages ; which could not fail in some degree to have attached him to the country, though he had been devoid of any prepossessions in its favour. The early indications of genius, which we have noticed above, were fully supported in his new station. His singular intelligence and propriety of conduct ex- cited the wonder, and, in some degree, the respect of his ship-mates, at the same time that they gained him the esteem and the confidence of his employer, who promised to give him the proof of his approbation by appointing him to the command of one of his ships. Unfortunately for both parties, untoward circum- stances prevented the master from having it in his power to pay this substantial tribute of respect to the merits of his foithful apprentice, whose time having ex- pired, he entered to the command of a slave ship, and made several voyages to the coast of Africa in prosecution of that disgraceful traflic. How long he con- tinued in this trade his biographers have not told us ; but to his honour they have stated that he felt disgusted with the employment, and at length " confined his services to tiie conunand of vessels engaged in a more reputable and legitimate «:onnnerce." In the year 1773, the death of his brother in Virginia, without JONES. 275 having left any children, called him over to that country to look after the settle- ment of his affairs, on which occasion, all his transatlantic predilections being revived, he resolved to withdraw from the dangers and the vicissitudes of a sea- faring life, to settle in the colony, and to devote the remainder of his days to the peaceful pursuits of rural industry and philosophic retirement. There is nothing more curious in the history of the human mind than that satiety and langour which so frequently comes over the most active spirits ; Cowley often had thoughts of burying liimself in the woods of America, where he fancied he would be happy, in seclusion from all intercourse with the busy and bustling portions of society : Cromwell, with all his unconquerable daring and unquenchable activity — and Hanibdcn, one of the brightest, the boldest, and the most disinterested spirits that have adorned any age or country, despairing of the state of political affairs in their native land, sought to escape tlieir uneasy sensations, and to secure religious peace and happiness, by the same expedient. Akin, perhaps, to these cases was that of Paul Jones, whose mind seems from tiie first to have been replete with lofty aspirations, fitting him for greatness, while his connexions in his own country were of a nature to prevent his ever gratify- ing them. We can easily conceive tliis bold and enthusiastic man sensible of the superiority of his powers above those of most other men, but fretting at tlie cold obstructions which were put before him, by the rules and habits of society in his own country, and also perhaps at the notoriety of his ignoble origin ; and therefore preferring to lose himself in an American forest, where, if he did not gain any distinction, he ivould not at least be esteemed as lower than his per- sonal merit warranted. Had the colonies been in a state of tranquillity, Jones would probably have spent the remainder of his days as a simple colonist, or perhaps gone back to sea, to escape the monotony of a life but little suited to his faculties. The country, however, was now in a state of high etfervescence, which was every day increasing, and which rallied forth the energies, such as they were, of every individual among them, eitiier on the one side or the other. Great dissatisfaction had for a long period been prevalent respecting the mea- sures of the British government in reference to the colonies, and in the specu- lations of the colonists with regard lo the steps necessary to be taken for coun- teracting these measures, Jones found tlie tedium of his retirement wonderfully relieved. Open resistance was no sooner proposed, than he found that he had mistaken the natural bent of his genius, which was nuich more turned towards action than solitary speculation ; and wiien Congress, in the close of the year 1775, began to equip a naval force to assist in asserting American independence, he stepped boldly forward to ofl'er his service. He was at once appointed to be first lieutenant aboard the Alfred, one of the only two ships belonginn- to the Congress; and in that capacity lioisted with his own hands for the first time the flag of independent Ameriicting his progress by doubling tlie ice to the southward. With this view he sailed from Ciushelham in a boat thirty feet long, followed by a smaller one that might be hauled over tiie ice, but told none of those who accompanied him what were his intentions. Having set out early in the mor- ning, he hr.d by the evening got nearly opposite Stockholm, when, instead of landing as the boatmen expected, he drew out a pair of pistols and ordered them to proceed in the direction he had previously determined upon. Resis- tance with a man of the chevalier's character Avas probably judged by the simple boatmen to be in vain ; anreislak in later times founded his celebrated calculation, that there never could have been a sufficient quantity of water in and about our globe to have kept the matter of it at any time in solu- tion. It was considered by many, that Keill had used the venerable doctor 15iirnet, mu<;h his elder in years, a scholar, and a man esteemed for his private virtues, with too much asperity and unbecoming sarcasm. It appears that tlie * I'Aamiiiation, '61, 38. 288 KEILL. respective theorists answered the attack, although in Mliat manner we have been unable to discover. In 1699, Keill published a rejoinder, entitled " An Examination of the Re- flections on the Theory of the Earth, together with a defence of the Remarks on Mr Whiston's New Theory." The Defence of the Theory appeal's by no means to have infused into Keill a greater spirit of politeness. Ke proceeds with the impatience of a man of sense and knowledge interrupted, terminating with an advice to Burnet to study " numbers and magnitude, astronomy and statics ; that," he continues, " he may be the better able to ui:derstand the force of my arguments against his Theory, after which I doubt not but that he will easily perceive its errors, and have the ingenuity to acknowledge them. But till then, all farther disputation between him and me must needs be vain and frivolous, since true reasoning on natural philosophy depends on such principles as are demonstrated in those sciences, the knowledge of «hich he has not yet at- tained."^ To his other opponent, Whiston, Keill basin this work, probably owing to the manner in which he was answered, forgot his former courtesy, treating him with no more deference than he has used toward Burnet. In 1700, Dr Thomas fllillington, Sedelian professor of natural philosophy in Oxford, on his appointment as physician in ordinary to the king, substituted Keill as his assistant, to read his public lectures ; and the term for enjoying the Scottish exhibition at Baliol college then expiring, he accepted an invitation from Dr Aldrich, dean of Christ's church, to reside there. As his master Gregory was the first who introduced the Newtonian pliilosophy to the universi- ties, Keill himself possesses the reputation of having been the first to demon- strate its principles on experiment ; a task he is said to have performed through machinery of his own invention, but of what description, or to what extent he proceeded in his proofs, we are not informed. In 1701, Keill published his " Introductio ad Verara Physicam," a useful and popular treatise on the Ke\vtonian Philosophy. It is considered as an ex- cellent introduction to Sir Isaac Newton's Principia, and has frequently been reprinted in England, and in a French translation. About the year 1708, Keill was chosen a fellow of the Royal Society, and after his admission he pub- lished in the Philosophical Transactions a pretty lengthy paper, " in which the laws of atti-action, and other principles of physic are shown." * At this period, the scientific world became disturbed by the dispute which had assumed the as- pect of a national question, whether Leibnitz formed his idea of the doctrine of fluxions from some unpublished discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, and which of these two great men could properly be considered the inventor of that sublime addition to the power of the human intellect. In the Acta Eruditorum published at Leipsic, it was maintained that Leibnitz was the sole inventor, all right on the part of Ne\vton being denied. To this Keill answered in a paper which he communicated to the Royal Society, defending his friend without much regard to the accusations which he brought ag-ainst his opponent. In 1711, Leibnitz complained to the Royal Society, that Keill had accused him of obtaining and publishing his knowledge in a manner not reputable to a philosopher, or even exactly consistent with honesty ; he appealed to Sir Isaac himself as a witness of his integrity, and required that Keill should publicly disavow the oflensive construction which might be applicable to his words. Ihe Royal Society being appealed to as philosophical judges in the matter, a})pointed a committee to examine the papers and documents connected with the dispute, * Examination of the Reflections, 160. * Epistola ad clar: Vir: Gulielinum Cockbum. Mcdieiiias Doctoicm — in qua LegiS At- tractiojiis Aliaiiuo Plijsicae Principia traduntur. — Phil. Trans., xxvi. 97. KEILL. 2R7 who did not find it difficult to produce a report ratlier unfavourable to the con- tinental philosopher, bearing " That Mr Leibnitz was in London in 1G73, and kept a correspondence with I\Ir Collins, by means of 3Ir Oldenburgh, till Sep- tember, 1G7G, when he returned from I'aris to Hanover, by way of London and Amsterdam ; that it did not appear that M. Leibnitz knew anything of the dif- ferential calculus before his letter of the 2lst June, 1G77, which was a year af- ter a copy of a letter wrote by Sir Isaac Newton, in the year 1672, had been sent to Paris to be communicated to him, and about four years after IMr Col- lins began to communicate that letter to his con-espondents ; wherein the method effluxions was sufficiently explained to let a man of his sagacity into the whole matter : and that Sir L Newton had even invented his method before the year 1G(J9, and of consequence fifteen years before 31r Leibnitz had given anything on the subject in the Leipsic acts ;" from which train of circumstances they con- cluded that Keill was justified in his imputations. The censure of the society, and the papers connected with it, were published apart from the Transactions in 1712, under the title " Connnercium Epistolicum de Analysi Promota." For some time the philosopher appears not to have answered this array against him, until the Abbe Conti, in the year 17 IG, addressed him, calling on him, if he did not choose to ans\ver Keill, at least to vindicate himself from the non-admission of his claim on the part of Newton ;^ and he just commenced the work of vindication at a period when death prevented him from com- pleting it In the year 1709, Keill was appointed ti-easurer to the Palatines, and in perfornunce of his duties, attended tliem in their passage to New England. On his return in 1710, he was appointed successor to Dr Caswell, Savilian professor of astronomy at Oxford. At this period, he again entered the field of contro- versy, in support of his friend Sir Isaac Newton, whose philosophy had been attacked on the foundation of Des Cartes's theory of a plenum ; and he published in the Philosophical Transactions for 1713, a communication to the society, on the rarity of matter and the tenuity of its composition." In this controversy, he was, however, interrupted by his appointment to the situation of decypherev to the (jueen, and he was soon afterwards presented with the degree of doctor of medicine, by the university of Oxford. About this period we find him gratefully remembered by that unlbrtunate scholar Simon Oakley, for having permitted Iiim the use of the Savilian study.' Keill, in the year 1717, took to himself a wife. The name of the lady who made him the happiest of men, has not been preserved ; but it is said he man-ied her " for her singular accomplishments." In the Centlcnian's 3Iagazine for 1739, we find a curious lloratian ode, addressed to Keill by the celebrated Anthony Alsop ; its period of puhlir^ation is some years after the death of both the parties, and there is no comment alluding to the date of its composition ; but the circumstances mentioned show it to be a congiatulatory epistle to Keill on his marriage. The ode is extremely spirited and not destitute of elegance ; ; but whether from other motives, or the anxiety of the author to reach the familiar vivacity of the Roman lyrist, he has treated his giave subject in a man- ner which would not now be considered very wortliy of a divine, or to convey a pleasing compliment to a venerable professor. The subject was one of some delicacy to Alsop, who was tlien enjoying a species of banishment, the conse- cjuence of a verdict obtained against him for breach of a contract of marriage ; * Published in the Pliil. Trans., xxx. 924.. " Tluoitmata qua-tlam infiiiiUiiii materia- (li%-is-ibilitatem spcctantia, qua? ejiisdem raritatcm ei ttnuem compositionem demonslmnt, quorum ope plurinite in ph^tica toUuntur diflkul- tates. — Phil. Trans., xxviii 82. ' Nichols's Literary Anecdotes. 2S8 KEITH-ELPHINSTONE. and whether from this circumstance, or his cbssical feelings, he has dwelt on the habits of his friend in a manner which woukl hardly fail to draw " damages" from a modern jury.^ In 1718, Keill published " Introductio ad veram Astro- nomiam, seu lectiones Asti'onomicse," a work which was reprinted in the year 1721, at which period, at the request of the duchess of Chandos, he published a translation of this work in English, with emendations, under tiie title of" An Introduction to tlie true Astronomy ; or. Astronomical Lectures, read in the astronomical school of the university of Oxfoi-d." The year in which he accomplislied these literary labours was the last of his life ; during the simiuier of 1721, he was seized with a violent fever, of wiiich lie died in tiie month of September, in the fiftieth year of his age. Besides tiie works we have men- tioned, he published in 1715, an edition of Conunandinus's Euclid, with addi- tions. KEITH-ELPHINSTONE, George, (viscount Keith, K. B. admiral of the Red, &c.) a distinguislied modern naval officer, was the fifth son of Charles, tentli lord Elphinstone, by the lady Clementina Fleming, only child of John, sixth earl of Wigton, and niece and heir-of-line to the last earl Marischal. His lord- ship was born on the 12th January, 1746, at Elphinstone in East Lothian, the ancient but now dismantled seat of the family of Elphinstone. Mr Elphinstone was early taught, by his remoteness from the chance of family iidieritance, to trust to his own exertions for the advancement of his fortune ; and, having from his earliest years shown a predilection for the navy, he was, at sixteen, ranked as a midshipman in the Gosport, commanded by captain Jer- vis, afterwards earl St Vincent. The peace of 1763 soon put an end to his im- mediate hopes of naval glory — though not before he had experienced much ad- vantage from the tuition of liis eminent commander. He subsequently served in the Juno, Lively, and Emerald frigates, and, entering on board an Indiaraan, commanded by his elder brother, the honourable W. Elphinstone, made a voyage to China, where, however, he suffered considerably from the climate. Notwith- standing this latter circumstance, he did not scruple to make a voyage to the East Indies in 1767, under commodore Sir John Lindsay, by whom he was promoted to a lieutenancy. In 1772, he was advanced to the rank of commander in the Scorpion of four- teen guns. In the spring of 1775, he was made post-captain on board the Marl- borough, seventy-four guns, and soon after he obtained, first, the command of the Pearl, and then of the Perseus frigate. In the Perseus, which was remai-kable as the first ship in the British navy that was sheathed with copper, he made a conspicuous figure, during the early years of the contest with America, as an ac- tive and intrepid officer on the coast of that country, under lord Howe and ad- miral Arbuthnot. He was likewise often engaged in the services, in this unhap- py war, where sea and land forces wei'e united — in particular at the reduction of Charleston, lie conducted himself with such gallantry in the command of a de- tachment of seamen, as to gain frequent and most honourable mention in the of- ' Quidni ego Iretor tibi gnitulari (.oiijiigi, coiijux ? fgo qui leliqui, Coiiiiubi aiusa, patiiani iloniunique ux- orius exul. ^ • • « Quare age et totis licitac diebus, Noctibus tolls veiieri litato : Noil opus s}lvce, aut reculiare subter Togmiiic foeni, &c. Gent. Ma", ix. 324. KEITH-ELPHINSTONE. 289 ficial despatches of general Sir Henry Clinton, The experience which he thus acquired was of great service to him long afterwards, when lie had a nioi'C pro- minent and distinguished part to perform. In 1780, having returned to England with despatches from admiral Arbutli- not, he was, on his arrival, appointed to tlie command of the Warwick of fifty guns. In the general election, which took place this year, he was chosen mem- ber of parliament for Dumbartonshire, where his family possessed some in- fluence ; and he was one of those who met at the St Alban's tavern, to attempt a reconciliation between Messrs Fox and Pit and the duke of Portland, with the view of forming what was called " a broad-bottomed administration," This attempt, as is well known, proved unsuccessful. In the following year, as he was cruising down the channel in his ship the Warwick, he encountered the Rotterdam, a Dutch ship of war, bearing fifty guns and three hundred men. The manner in which lie attacked this vessel and compelled her to strike — more es- pecially as the engagement liappened immediately after the Iris, a ship of equal force, had been batiied in the attempt — gained captain Elphinstone much pub- lic notice. Soon after this, lie went out to tlie coast of America, where he served during the remainder of this disastrous war. While on this station, he, in com- pany with other three British vessels of war, captured the French frigate L'Aigle of forty guns, (twenty- four pounders, on the main deck,) and a crew of (iOO men, commanded by count de la Touche. Unfortunately for the captors, the enemy's captain escaped to shore with the greater part of a large quantity of specie Avhich was on board the frigate. Two small casks and two boxes, however, of this valu- able commodity fell into the hands of the victors. Along Avith the ciptain, there also escaped several officers of high rank, and amongst them the commander-in- chief of the French army in America. During his service on the American coast, captain Elpliinstone had the honour to receive on board his ship as mid- shipman, prince William Henry, afterwards king William IV. ; a distinction the more flattering, that the choice of the ship and officer was made by his royal liighness himself. At the close of the war, when the subject of our memoir re- turned to Britain, the prince of Wales appointed liim for life to be secretary and chamberlain of the principality of Wales. In April, 1787, captain Elphinstone nian-ied Jane, daugliter of William fier- cer, Esq. of Aldie, in the county of Perth, a lady of large property, by whom lie had a daughter, now viscountess Keith, aiid wife of count Flahanlt, late aide-du-camp to the emperor Napoleon. In I7Sfi, captain Elphinstone was chosen to repi'esent the shire of Stirling, The breaking out of the French war in 1793, opened a new field for his enterprise and activity, and soon after the occurrence of that event he was appointed to the Robust of seventy-four guns, and sailed under the command of lord Hood to the 31cditerrancan. The object for whicli the latter had been sent to these seas was to endeavour to etlect a co-operation with the royalists in the south of France. In this his lordship so far succeeded, tliat the sections of Toulon immediately proclaimed Louis XVII, under a pro- mise of protection from the British fleet, and ^Marseilles was only prevented froiii taking a similar step by the approach of a republican army. 15ef<)re taking pos- session of Toulon, Avhich was part of llic arrangement made with the French by lord Hood, it was deemed proper to secure the forts which commanded the ships in the roads, and for this duty fifloen hundred men were landed under r^nplain Keith, who, after effecting this service, was directed to assume the command of the whole, as governor of fort IMalgue. In a few days afterwards general Carteaux appeared, at the head of a detachment of the repiibli«xan army, on the heights near Toulon. Captain Elphinstone, placing himself at tite head of a small body of British and Spanish soldiers, instantly marched out to attack liini, and after HI. 2 390 KEITH-ELPHINSTONE. a gallant contest, completely routed the enemy, and captured his artillery, am- munition, horses, and two stand of colours. In the October following, captain Elphinstone, with lord Mulgrave and rear- admiral Gravina, at the head of a combined force of British, Spaniards, and Neapolitans, obtained another complete victory over a detachment of the French nvmy, consisting of nearly 2000 men, at the heights of Fharon. In this en- gagement the enemy's loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners, was about 1500 men, while on the part of the allied force it amounted only to eight l.illed, seventy-two wounded, two missing, and forty-eight prisoners. These successes, however, were insufficient to secure the British in possession of Toulon. The whole force of the republicans became directed to their ex- pulsion ; and, finding the place no longer tenable, it was determined, though not without much reluctance, to abandon it. In pursuance of this resolution, the whole of the combined troops, to the number of 8000 men, together with several thousand royalists, were embarked on board the British ships eai-ly in the morn- ing of the Sth December, without the loss of a single man. This imj>ortaut service was superintended by captains Elphinstone, Hallinel, and Matthews ; and it was principally owing to the care, attention, and vigorous exertions of these officers, and more especially of the first, that it was so well and speedily accomplished. Captain Elphinstone's efficient services on this and some of the immediately pre- ceding occasions procured him high encomiums from both lord Hood and lieu- tenant-general Dundas. On his return to England, which was in the year 1794, he was invested Avith the knighthood of the Bath, having been previously pro- moted to the rank of rear-admiral of the blue, and in July the same year was made rear-admiral of the white, and in this capacity hoisted his flag on board the Barfleur of ninety-eight guns, and in the year following, having shifted his flag to the Monarch, he sailed with a small squadron for the Cape of Good Hope, then in the possession of the Dutch. A Avar being about to commence between Great Britain and the Eatavian re- public, the object of admiral Elphinstone was to reduce the settlements at the Cape, a service Avhich he effectually accomplished, besides capturing a squadron Avhich had been sent out for its defence. On the completion of this important undertaking he returned to England, now advanced to the rank of vice-admiral ; and the cabinet was so highly gratified Avith the great service he had rendered his country by securing to it so valuable a colony as that of the Cape, that they conferred upon him yet further honours. In 1797, he was created an Irish peer by the title of baron Keith of Stone- haA'en-Marischal, and shortly after assumed the command of a detachment of the channel fleet. In this year also, he was presented by the directors of the East India company Avith a splendid sword, valued at 500 guineas, as an ac- knowledgment for his eminent services. In 1798, lord Keith hoisted his flag on board the Foudroyant, and sailed for the Mediterranean as second in com- mand under the earl St Vincent, Avho Avas already there Avith a large fleet. Early in the beginning of the following year, he Avas promoted to the rank of vice-admiral of the red, and on the occasion of a temporary indisposition of earl St Vincent, assumed the entire command of the fleet. Here he continued em- ployed in blockading the Spanish fleet till May, 1799,Avhen he Avent in pursuit of the Brest fleet. His search, however, being unsuccessful, he returned to England. In November, he again sailed for the Mediterranean, to take the com- mand of the fleet there, and Avhich Avas now Avholly resigned to him in conse- quence of the increasing illness of the earl St Vincent. While in this command lord Keith performed a series of important services. By the judicious arrange- ment of his ships, and the co-operation of lord Nelson, he succeeded in capturing KEITII-ELPHINSTONE. 291 two large French sliips proceeding to La Valetta, witli troops and stores. He blockaded tlie ports of Toulon, Marseilles, Nice, and the coast of the Riviera ; and, co-operating with the Austrians, who were besieging Genoa, he so effectu- ally (^ut off all supplies from the French garrison in that place by the activity of his bloclvade, that they were compelled to surrender. In the following Septem- ber, the island of Malta was captured by a detachment of his fleet. Tlie British ■ The earl resided in Britain for several years, purchased back some of his family property, and intended finally to settle for the remainder of his life in Scotland. The king of Prussia, however, pressed him so warmly to return to his dominions — saying, in one of his letters, " if I had a fleet, I would come and carry you off by force," — that he once more became an exile from his na- tive land. He spent the rest of his life in Prussia, in the most intimate terms of friendship with its extraordinary monarch, and the enjoyment of every plea- sure that a cultivated mind and a virtuous course of life can secure for mortals. Frederick had discovered that the earl was sincerely attached to his person, and he therefore bestowed upon him in return more of his own friendship than was ever experienced by any other individual. The earl was also the friend and correspondent of Hume, and other literary men of his own country, besides tlie European literati in general. He died at Potsdam, May 28, 1778, in the S6th year of his age, — two days before Voltaire, who had nearly attained the same age, expired at Paris. An " Eloge de JMy-Iord Marischal," by the celebrated D'Alembert, was published at Berlin in 1779. KEITH, Robert, commonly called bishop Keith, an eminent scholar and anti- quary, was born at Uras in Kincardineshire, February 7, 1681. He was named Robert after the viscount of Arbuthnot, who had been suckled by his mother. His fatlier, Alexander Keith, having died while he was only two years of age, the care of his education devolved upon his mother, a most exemplary woman, who spared no pains and no expense within the reach of a very limited income, to inculcate those lessons of virtue and religion, and that knowledge of letters Avhich afterwards procured her son so much honourable distinction. The bishop seems to have entertained, during his whole life, a deep sense of the obligations under which he lay to this amiable parent, and to have taken great pleasure in expressing ir. Though in but indiflerent circumstances in the 1 Tlifi worthy bishop gives this anecdote as one related at his table by the celebi-ated I\Ii John Skinner, episcopal minister at Langside. KEITH. 305 early period of his life, he was yet closely related to one of the most ancient and noble families in the kingdom, being lineally descended from Alexander, tlie youngest son of William, third earl Marisclial. When he had attained the age of seven years, his mother removed with him to Aberdeen, where he obtained the earlier part of his education. In 1703, he procured the situation of tutor to the young lord Keith and his brother, and in this employment he remained till 1710, when he was admitted to the order of deacons in the Scottish episcopal church, by Haliburton, (titulai-) bisliop of Aberdeen ; and in November following became domestic chaplain to Cliarles, earl of ExtoI, and his mother, the countess. Two years after, he accompanied his lordship to the baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, and had thus an opportunity of visiting some of the most celebrated towns and cities on the continent. Leaving the earl at Aix-la-Chapelle, he returned to England and landed at Dover, where he was compelled to remain for several months, in consequence of a severe illness, brought on by ex'posure during a violent storm which he had encountered in cross- ing the channel. On recovering sufficiently to enable him to undergo the fatigue of travelling, he set out for Edinburgh, where he arrived in February, 1713. He was shortly after this invited by a congregation of Scottish episcopalians in that city, to become their minister, and was accordingly raised to the priesthood by bishop Haliburton, on the 26th May, in the year just named. His talents and learning had ah-eady attracted some notice, and had procured for him a considerable degree of influence in the church to which he belonged, and of which he was always a steady, zealous, but rational supporter ; for, although firmly attached to the faith in which he was educated, he was yet extremely liberal and tolerant in his religious sentiments. In June, 1727, he was raised to the episcopate, and was consecrated in Edinburgh by bishops Miller, Rattray, and Gadderar. He was, at the same time, intrusted Avith the superintendence of the district of Caithness, Orkney, and the Isles, and in 1733, was preferred to that of Fife. For upwards of twenty years after this period, bishop Keith continued to exercise his duties in Edinburgh, filling a respectable, if not a dignified place in society, and employing his leisure, it would appear, chiefly in the compilation of those historical works which have transmitted liis name to posterity. In a manu- script memoir by 3Ir 3Iurray of Broughton, secretary to prince Charles Stuart — which the present writer has perused — it is clearly signified that, previous to the insurrection of 1745, the bishop corresponded on subjects relating to his depi'essed and suflering communion, witli the court of the Pretender, and that the latter personage, as the supposed head of a supposed church, gave the conge d' elire necessary for the election of iiidividuals to exercise the episcopal ofiice. The first historical work published by the bishop, appeared in 1731, in a folio form, under the title of a " History of the Afiairs of Church and State in Scotland, from the beginning of the Reformation in the reign of James V., to the retreat of queen Mary into England." Though tinged here and there with high-church prejudices, the original narrative is a useful, and, upon the whole, a candid record of a very controverted part of our history ; while the state docu- ments quoted in the body of the work and at its close, have proved of incalcula- ble service to every later writer upon the same subject. The list of sul)scribers prefixed to tliis work is highly curious, as being an almost complete muster-roll of tlie .Facobite nobility and gentry of the period : among the rest is the famous Rob Roy. In 1755, the bishop published his well-known " Catalogue of Scot- tish Bishops," whi(;h has also been a mine of valuable knowledge to later Mriters. The latter ypars of this venerable person appear to have been spent at a villa called Bonnyliaugh, ou the banks of the water of Leith, whicli belonged to ni. 2 y 306 KENNEDY. himself. Here he died on the 20th of January, 1757, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. He was buried in the Canongate church-yard, a few feet from the wall on the western side, where a plain tomb-stone, inscribed simply with his name, has recently been erected. Besides his eminent qualifications as an historian and antiquary, the subject of this notice possessed those of an acute and pains-taking genealogist, a study to which he was probably directed by the high value which he always attached to the dignity of his own descent, and which he was at much pains to establish. An instance of his tenacity in this particular, and of his pecu- liar talent for genealogical research, was exhibited in a dispute into which he entered with Mr Keith of Ravelstone, on the subject of the comparative pi'ox- imity of their several families to the house of the earls Marischal. On that occasion he printed a " Vindication of Mr Robert Keith, and of his young grand-nephew Alexander Keith, from the unfriendly representation of Mr Alexander Keith, jun. of Ravelston." In this vindication he not only suc- ceeded in establishing his superior claims to the particular honour in dispute, but showed that he was also related to the dukes of Douglas and Hamilton. His reason for being at so much pains in vindicating the nobility of his descent, is thus spoken of in the document above alluded to : " For although he him- himself, (he speaks in the third person,) now in the close of the seventieth year of his age, and having only one daughter, might be pretty indifferent about any thing of this nature, yet he suspects his young grand-nephews, (for there are no less than three of them, Alexander, Robert, and John,) when they came of age, might reproach the memory of their uncle, and justly perhaps, for his not endea- vouring to set their birth at right against so flagrant an attack, seeing the one was capable, and the others might not have the same means of knowing, or the same abilities to perform it." The good bishop seems to have been no hoarder of money, for at his death he left only £450, while his colleague and assistant, died worth £3000. KENNEDY, James, bishop of St Andrews, was the younger of the two sons of James Kennedy of Dunure, and his wife, the countess of Angus, daughter of Robert HI. king of Scotland. He was born about the year 1405 or 1406. The earlier part of his education he received at home, under the eye of his mo- ther, and was afterwards, agreeably to the practice of the times, sent abroad to complete it. Being early destined to the church, the only road to preferment at that period, and the only profession, besides, worthy his dignified descent, he devoted himself to the study particularly of theology and the canon law ; but, be- sides his acquirements in these depai'tments of knowledge, he made a singular pro- ficiency in the languages and other branches of learning, and was altogether looked upon as by far the most accomplished prelate of his day. On his entering into holy orders, he was prefen-ed (1437) by his uncle James I. to the see of Dunkeld. The good bishop was no sooner installed in his office than he set assiduously to work to reform abuses in the church, and to compel his vicars and parsons to a faithful discharge of their duties. He enjoined them to remain in their parishes, and to instruct their parishioners in the knowledge of religion, to preach to them regularly, and to visit, comfort, and encourage the sick. He himself visited all the churches within his diocese four times every year, preaching in each of them as he went along. On these occasions he never failed to inquire of the people if they were duly instructed by their pastors ; if they had no complaints against them ; whether their poor wei'e properly cared for ; and if their youth wei-e brought up in the fear of God. Such were the pious labours of this excellent man at the outset of his career, and he never deviated from them during the whole of a long and active after-life. Finding KENNEDY. 307 his own authority insufficient to enable him to accompUah all the good which he was desirous of doing, in reforming the abuses which had crept into the church, he went over to Florence to procure additional powers for tliis purpose from the pope, Eugenius IV. On this occasion his holiness, as a mark of his esteem for the worthy prelate, bestowed upon him the connnendam of the abbacy of Leone. On the death of Wardlaw, bishop of St Andrews, an event which happened on Cth April, 1440, Kennedy was chosen as his successor in that see; and to this new and more important charge, he brought all that activity and anxiety to do good which had distinguished him while he filled the bishopric of Dunkeld. He continued his efforts to reform the manners and practice of the clergy, and in 1446, set out on a second journey to Italy, to consult with and obtain the co-op- eration of the pope in his work of reformation. On this occasion he was accom- panied by a train of thirty persons ; for though moderate and temperate in all his pursuits and enjoyments, he was yet of an exceedingly liberal and generous dis- position, and a scrupulous maintainer of the dignity of the sacred office which he held, and he had sufficient penetration to discover how much of this, as of all human dignities, depends upon extrinsic aids. His dislike of turbulence and anarchy, and his constant efforts to reconcile differences where they existed, and to discountenance oppression, and to restrain illegal power, rendered him pecu- liarly obnoxious to the house of Douglas, whicli, during the minority of James II., had nearly accomplished the total overthrow of the hereditary royalty of Scotland. In revenge of the part he took in restraining the power of that ambitious family, his lands were plundered by the earl of Crawford and Alexan- der Ogilvie of Inveraritie, at the instigation of the earl of Douglas, wlio had farther instructed them to seize, if possible, the person of the bislu p, and to put him in irons. This fate he avoided by confining himself to his castle, the only mode of resistance which he thought consistent with his sacred character as a minister of religion. He was, however, eventually the means of reducing the power of tlie Douglases within limits more consistent with the peace and safety of the kingdom. James II., almost driven from his tlirone by the increasing insolence and influence of tlie chief of that house, went in despair to St Andrews, to seek the counsel and advice of its able and amiable bishop. On the prince and prelate meeting, the former laid before him the desperate situation to which the growing power and daring effrontery of the earl of Douglas had reduced him. He informed liim that he had learned that Douglas was mustering a large army either to dethrone him or drive him from the country ; that he knew no means of resisting him, and was utterly at a loss what steps to take in this emer- gency. " Sir," replied the bishop, perceiving tiiat the disconsolate king was exhausted with fatigue as well as depressed in spirits, " I entreat your grace to partake, in the mean time, of some refreshment, and wiiile ye do so, 1 will pass into my cliamber and piay to fjod for you and the common wealtii of ibis realm." On retiring, as he had proposed, the good bishop fervently implored the interference of the Almighty in behalf of the unhappy prince, who, friendless and distracted, had sought his counsel and advice; and when the king had finished his repast, lie came fortii, and Liking him by tlie hand, led him into the apartment in whicli he himself had been praying, and there they both knelt down and besought the guidance and assistance of Him who directs all tbinjijs, — a scene than whi<;h it would not probably be easy to conceive anything more striking or interesting. When they had concluded their devotions, the bishop proceeded to point out to the king such a mode of procedure as he deemed the most suitable to the circum- stances. He advised the monarch immediately to issue proclamations, calling upon his subjects in the north to muster around his standiud, which he afterwards 308 KER. erected at St Andrews, and still more wisely, and as the issue showed, with a still better effect, proposed his offering pardon to all avIio, having previously attached themselves to the earl of Douglas, would now abandon his cause, and aid that of the king. The consequence was, that James soon found himself at the head of forty thousand men. The final muster took place at Stirling, and a battle, which was to decide whether a Douglas or a Stuart was to be king of Scotland, appeared to be at hand ; for the former with an equal force ^\as at that moment encamped on the south side of the Carron. But, while in the very act of advancing with his army to encounter the forces of the king, Douglas detected the effects of the amnesty proclaimed by James by the advice of the bishop of St Andrews, A spirit of disaffection and indications of doubt and wavering appeared in his ranks. Alarmed by these symptoms, he marched his army back to their encamp- ment, hoping to restore their confidence in him by the following day, when he proposed again to march forth against the enemy. The result, however, was directly the reverse of what he had anticipated. The feeling which he expected to subdue, in place of subsiding, gained ground ; so that in the morning, there were not a hundred men remaining of all Douglas's host. Finding himself thus suddenly deserted, the earl instantly fled ; and in this manner fell the over- grown power of the house of Douglas, — a circumstance mainly, if not entirely attributable to the wisdom and energy of the bishop of St Andrews. On the death of James 11., bishop Kennedy was intrusted with the charge and education of his son, afterwards James III., then about seven years of age. His known wisdom, prudence, and integrity, pointed him out as the fittest person for this important duty, and on the same ground there was added to it a large share in the management of public affairs during the regency of the queen- mother. He had acquired an authority in the kingdom by the mere influence of his character, which few had ever attained by adventitious circumstances, and which no chui-chman had at any time before enjoyed ; and he was thus enabled to accomplish more amongst a rude and barbarous people, than would have been yielded to the mere force of power or rank. The consequence was, that an unusual quietness and prosperity pervaded the whole kingdom during his administration. He enjoyed the confidence and good-will of all parties, and was no less esteemed for his probity, humanity, and wisdom, than admired for the splendour of his abilities; and so highly was his character appreciated, and so universal the satisfac- tion which his government afforded, that the chief management of public affairs was still left in his hands even after the death of the queen-mother, and remained Avith him until his own death, Avhich took place on the 10th of May, 1466, an event which was widely and sincerely deplored. Bishop Kennedy was not less remarkable for his munificence than for the other splendid qualities which composed his character. He founded the college at St Andrews, called St Salvator's, in honour of our Saviour, and endowed it with a fund for the maintenance of a pi'ovost, four regents, and eight poor scho- lar, or bursars, at an expense of about ten thousand pounds. He built a ship, which was afterwards kno^vn by the name of the Bishop's Barge, at a similar cost, and his tomb is said to have been equally expensive with the two fonner. In 1444, he was appointed chancellor of the kingdom, but this office he resigned in a few weeks afterwards, because he found it interfered with those projects for doing good in his clerical capacity, which he had resolved to follow out from the beginning of his career. He was, by his own desire, interred in the collegiate church of St Andrews,, where his tomb is still shown, along willi several silver maces which were found in it a few years ago. KER, John, third duke of Roxburgh, distinguished by his eminent bibliogra- phical knowledge, and his extensive and valuable collection of books, was born KEIl. 309 in Hanover Square, London, on the 23d April, 1740. He was the eldest son of Robert, the second duke, by Essex Mostyn, daughter of Sir Roger Blostyn, of Mostyn, in Kentshii-e, baronet. In 1755, he succeeded his father in the dukedom, to which was attached the British peerage of earl and baron Ker of Wakefield ; and he appears to have soon after proceeded upon his travels on the continent. It is stated that, while in Germany, he formed an attachment to Christiana Sophia Albertina, eldest daughter of the duke of Mecklenburg Strelitz, and that their nuptials would have taken place, had not her sister Charlotte, just at that time, been espoused by the king of Great Britain. Eti- quette then interfered, to prevent what would otherwise have been an equal and proper match, it being deemed improper that the elder should become the sub- ject of the younger sister. Both parties, however, evinced the strength of their attachment, by devoting their after-lives to celibacy. It seems to Iiave been to this event that Sir Walter Scott alludes, when he says of the duke ■} " Youthful misfortunes, of a kind against which neither wealth nor rank possess a talisman, cast an early shade of gloom over his prospects, and gave to one splendidly endowed with the means of enjoying society, that degree of reserved melancholy, which prefers retirement to the splendid scenes of gayety." To whatever extent George 111. migiit be the innocent cause of his grace's misfortune, it does not appear to have, in the least, marred a strong friendship which existed between them — "a tie of rare occurrence," Sir Walter Scott justly observes, " between prince and subject." In 1767, his grace was appointed a lord of the bed-cham- ber, and next year was invested with the order of the thistle. The foi-mer hon- our gave him a title to be much about the court ; but he never farther engaged himself in a public career. The taste which his grace imbibed to so extraordinary an extent for book- collecting, is stated by Sir Walter to have originated in an accidental circum- stance. " Lord Oxford and loi-d Sunderland, both famous collectors of the time, dined one day at the house of the second duke of Roxburgh, when their conver- sation happened to turn upon the editio princeps of Boccaccio, printed at \ enice in 1471, and so rare that its very existence was doubted of. The duke was himself no collector, but it liappened that a copy of this very book had passed under his eye, and been ottered to him for sale at a hundi'ed guineas, then thought an immense price. It was, therefore, with complete assurance that he undertook to produce to the connoisseurs a copy of the treasure in question, and did so at the time appointed, with no small triumph. His son, then marquis of Beaumont, never forgot the little scene upon this occasion, and used to ascribe to it the strong passion which he ever afterwards felt for rare books and editions, and which rendered him one of the most assiduous and judicious collectors that ever formed a sumptuous library." There can be no doubt, at the same time, that the duke chanced to possess that perseverance of character and genuine literary taste, without which such an impulse as this must have been of no avail. " Sylvan amusements," says Sir \\ al- ter, " occupied the more active part of his time when in Scotland ; and in book- collecting, while residing in London, he displayed a degiee of patience which has rarely been equalled, and never ex<-ellcd. It could scarcely be said, ^xhether the duke of Roxburgh's assiduity and eagerness were most remarkable, A\hen ho lay for houi-s together, thougli the snow was falling at the time, beside some lovely spring in the Cheviot hills, where he expected the precarious cliance of shooting a wild goose, when tiie dawning should break; or ^vhen he toiled for lioias, nay, for tlays, collecting and verifying his edition of the Black Acts, or Caxton's Boke of Troy." ' Quarterly Rtvitw, xliv, 410. 310 KER. With the exception of singularly fortunate adventures in the procuring of oUl books, the duke's life passed on in an almost unvaried tenor, in the pursuits just alluded to. At his seat of Fleurs in Scotland, where he spent but a small por- tion of his time, he had a proportionately small library ; but at his house in St James's Square, London, where he chiefly resided, he, in time, amassed the most valuable private libi-ary in the country. In 1796, he was appointed groom of the stable, and initiated a privy councillor, and in 1801 was honoured with the garter, which he was permitted to bear along with the thistle, a mark of honour conferred on no other subject since 1712, when the duke of Hamilton had the same distinction from queen Anne.^ For upwards of forty years, he continued his book-collecting habits without intermission, being much aided during a great part of the time by Mr G. Nichol, bookseller to the king, whose services towards the excellent library collected by George III., and afterwards given by George IV. to the nation, were also very eminent At length, on the 19th of March, 1804, the duke died of inflammation in the liver, at his house in London, in the 64th year of his age. He was buried at Bowden, near Mel- rose. His library, at his death, consisted of upwards of ten thousand distinct articles, many of them of the greatest rarity and of high value, though it was understood that in many cases he had purchased them at comparatively low prices. It would be vain to pretend that his grace had made or could make a good use of such a vast mass of literature, much of it of an obsolete kind ; yet, neither can there be any doubt that he read much of what he purchased, and seemed, uprin the whole, to aim rather at gratifying an innate taste for letters, and a devout and worshipful regard for their brightest ornaments, than either for the pride of possessing so many curiosities, or the usual antiquarian appreciation of minute peculiarities in the externe of books. Early English literature and the Table Ronde had been the chief objects of his research. Of the former he possessed not only the rarest, but, in point of ctmdition, the most beautiful specimens in existence. He idolized the talents of Shakspeare and Cervantes, and collected every thing that could illustrate their works. Fifteen different editions of Shakspeare's complete works, with seventy- five separate plays in different editions, and fourteen distinct works respecting this great dramatic author, are to be found in the catalogue. In the poetical department of early English literature, he had a great collection ; in which the most curious article was a very large assortment of ancient ballads and fugitive pieces of poetry in three volumes folio, which had been first formed for the library of the earl of Oxford, afterwards enlarged by major Peai'son and Mr Isaac Reid, then increased to a great extent by the duke himself, and which brought, at the sale, no less than four hundred and seventy-seven pounds, fifteen shillings. The duke had also collected many ancient manuscripts, some of them splendidly illuminated ; and it is mentioned, that he read these with great facility, as was testified by various i*emarks Avhich he wrote upon them with his own hand. He had the lai-gest and finest collection of the books printed by Caxton, in England. At his death he was in full pursuit of the English dramatic authors ; and when the large collection he possessed is taken into account, along with the comparative briefness of the time during which he had directed his attention this way, his industry seems prodigious. He had an unconuuon quantity of books and tracts relative to criminals, detections of witches, and other impostors. IMr Nichol, in the preface to the catalogue, says, " he had a particular pleasure * No man could have borne these honours with more grace than the duke of Roxburgh, whose " lofty presence and felicitous address," according to Sir Walter Scott, " recalleil the ideas of a court in which lord Chesterfield might have acted as master of the ceremoiiiis. " KEll. 311 in exercising those discriminating powers which he so eminently possessed, in tracing out the images by which tlie perverted ingenuity of the human mind often attempts to impose upon the credulity of its fellow creatures." This splendid library was, after a long and distressing delay from litigation, brought to sale, in May, 1812 ; an event which may be said to have created more sensation than any other connected with literature during the present century — the disclosure of the Waverley secret alone excepted. Mr Uibdin, in his Bibliographical Decameron, has given an account of the proceedings, under the metaphorical semblance of a battle among the bibliomaniacs. He calls it THE Roxburgh fight ; and to this record we must be indebted for the account of a transaction which it would be improper to overlook in this memoir. " It would seem," says this facetious writer, " as if the year of our Lord 1811, was destined, in the annals of the book auctions, to be calm and quiescent, as a prelude and contrast to the tremendous explosion or contest which, in the succeeding year, was to rend asunder the biblioinaniacal elements. It is well known that 31r George Nichol had long prepared the catalogue of that extraor- dinary collection ; and a sort of avant-courier or picquet guard preceded the march of the whole army, in the shape of a preface, privately circulated among the friends of the author. The publication of a certain work, ycleped the Biblicnnania, had also probably stirred up the metal and hardened the sinews of the contending book-knights. At length the hour of battle arrived. * * * For two-and-forty successive days — with the exception only of Sundays — was the voice and hammer of 3Ir Evans heard, with equal efficacy, in the dining- room of the late duke, which had been appropriated to the vendition of the books ; and within that same space (some thirty-five feet by twenty,) were such deeds of valour performed, and such feats of book-heroism achieved, as had never been previously beheld : and of which the like will probably never be seen again. The shouts of the victors and the groans of the vanquished, stunned and appalled you as you entered. The throng and press, both of idle spectators and determined bidders, was unprecedented. A sprinkling of Caxtons and De Wordes marked the first day ; and these were obtained at high, but compara- tively with the subsequent sums given, moderate prices. Theology, jurispru- dence, philosophy, and philology, chiefly marked the earlier days of this tre- mendous contest : and occasionally, during tliese days, there was much stin-ing up of courage, and many liard and heavy blows were interchanged ; and the combatants may be said to have completely wallowed themselves in the conflict! At length came poetry, Latin, Italian, and French ; a steady fight yet continued to be fought : victory seemed to hang in doubtful seniles — sometimes on the one, sometimes on the other side of Mr Evans — who preserved throughout, (as it was his bounden duty to preserve,) a uniform, impartial, and steady course ; and who may be said, on that occasion, if not to have ' rode the whirlwind,' at least to have ' directed tiie storm.' At length came English poktrt ! ! and with that came the tug and trial of war : Greek met Greek : in other words, grandee was opposed to grandee ; andthe indomitable Atticus was compelled to retire, stunned by the repeated blows upon his helmet. The lance dropped from his hand, and a swimming darkness occasionally skimmed his view — for on that day, the Waterloo among book-battles, many a knight came far and wide from his retire- ment, and many an unfledged combatant left his father's castle to partake of the glory of such a contest. Among these kniglits from a * far countrec' no one shot his arrows w ith a more deadly effect than Astiachus ! But it was reserved for Romulus to reap the greatest victories in that poetic contest ! He fought will* a choice body-guard ; and tlie combatants seemed amazed at the perseverance and energy with which that body-guard dealt their dcath-blous around them ! S12 KER. " Dramatic Poetry followed ; what might be styled rare and early pieces con- nected with our ancient poetry ; but the combat now took a more tranquil turn : as after ' a smart brush ' for an early Shakspeare or two, Atticus and Corio- lanus, with a few well known dramatic aspirants, obtained almost unmolested possession of the field. " At this period, to keep up our important metaphor, the gi-eat Roxburgh day of battle had been somewhere half gone through, or decided. There was no disposition, however, on either side to relax from former efforts ; when (pre- pare for something terrific !) the Romances made their appearance ; and just at this crisis it was that mox-e blood was spilt, and more ferocity exhibited, than had ever been previously 'witnessed." We interrupt Blr Dibdin to mention, that the great blow of the day was struck for that volume which has been already alluded to, as purchased by the duke's father for a hundred guineas, — a volume of singular value, which Mr Nichol very properly intitles the most notorious in existence — the Decameron of Boccaccio, printed (folio) by Christopher Valdarfer at Venice in 1471, and supposed to be quite unique. "Mr Nichol, in his avant-courier of a preface," thus writes Mr Dibdin in a note, '* had not a little provoked the bibliomaniacal appetites of his readers ; telling them that ' in the class of Italian poets and novelists Avas the first edition of II Decamerone di Boccaccio, 1471. This was certainly one of the scarcest, if not the very scarcest book, that existed. It has now for upwards of 300 years preserved its uniquity, if that term be allowa- ble.' It was also previously known that this very book had been a sort of bone of contention among the collectors in the reign of the two first Georges. Lord Sunderland had seen it, and lord Oxford had cast a longing eye thereupon ; but it was reserved for an ancestor of the duke of Roxburgh to secui-e it — for the gallant price of 100 guineas! This purchase took place before the year 1740. * * I have a perfect recollection of this notorious volume, while in the lib- rary of tlie late duke. It had a faded yellow morocco binding, and was a sound rather than a fine copy. The expectations formed of the probable price for which it would be sold were excessive ; yet not so excessive as the price itself turned out to be. The marked champions were pretty well known beforehand to be the earl Spencer, the marquis of Blandford (now duke of Marlborough), and the duke of Devonshire. Such a rencontre, such a ' shock of fight,' uatui-ally begot uncommon curiosity. My friends, Sir Egerton Bridges, Mr Lang, and Sir G. H. Freeling, did me the kindness to breakfast with me on the morn- ing of the sale — and upon the conclusion of the repast. Sir Egerton's carriage conveyed us from Kensington to St James's Square. The morning lowered And heavily with clouds came on the daj" — Big with the fate of . . . and of ... . In fact the rain fell in torrents, as we lighted from the cari-iage and rushed with a sort of impetuosity to gain seats to view the contest. The room was crowded to excess ; and a sudden darkness Avhich came across gave rather an additional interest to the scene. At length the moment of sale arrived. Evans prefaced the putting up of the article by an appropriate oration, in which he expatiated upon its excessive rarity, and concluded by informing the company of the re- gret and even ' anguish of heart ' expressed by Mr Van Praet [librarian to the emperor Napoleon] that such a treasure was not to be found in the imperial col- lection at Paris. Silence followed the address of Mr Evans. On his right hand, leaning against the wall, stood earl Spencer : a little lower down, and standing at right ajigles with his lordship, appeared the marquis of Blandford. Lord Al- KER. 313 thorp stood a little backward to the right of his father, earl Spencer. Such waa ' tlie ground taken up ' by the adverse hosts. The honour of firing the first shot uas due to a gentleman of Shropshii-e, unused to this species of warfare, and who seemed to recoil from the reverberation of the report himself had made ! — ' One hundred guineas,' he exclaimed- Again a pause ensued ; but anon the biddings rose rapidly to 500 guineas. Hitherto however, it was evi- dent that the firing was but masked and desultory. At length all random shots ceased ; and the champions before named stood gallantly up to each other, re- solving not to flinch from a trial of their respective strengths. " ' A thousand guineas ' were bid by earl Spencer — to which the marquis added ' ten.^ You might have heard a pin drop. All eyes were turned — all breathing well nigh stopped — every sword was put home within its scabbard — and not a piece of steel was seen to move or to glitter, except that which each of these champions brandished in his valorous hand. See, see I — they parry, they lunge, they bet : yet their strength is undiminished, and no thought of yielding is en- tertained by either. Two thousand pounds are offered by the marquis. Then it was that earl Spencer, as a prudent general, began to think of a useless ef- fusion of blood and expenditure of ammunition — seeing that his adversary was as resolute and ' fresh ' as at the onset. For a quarter of a minute he paused : when my lord Althorp advanced one step forward, as if to supply his father with another spear for the purpose of renewing the contest. His countenance was marked by a fixed determination to gain the prize — if prudence, in its most commanding form, and with a frown of unusual intensity of expression, had not bade him desist. The father and son for a few seconds converse apart ; and the biddings are resumed. ' Two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds'* said lord Spencer ! The spectators were now absolutely electrified. The marquis quietly adds his usual ' ien,^ * * and there is an end of the contest. iMr Evans, ere his hammer fell made a due pause — and indeed, as if by something preternatural, the ebony instrument itself seemed to be charmed or suspended ' in the mid air.' However, at length, down dropped the hammer. * * * The spectators," continues Mr Dibdiu in his text, "stood aghast! and the sound of JMr Evans' prostrate sceptre of dominion reached, and resounded from, the utmost shores of Italy. The echo of that fallen hammer was heard in the libraries of Rome, of jMilan, and St IMark. Boccaccio himself started from his slumber of some five hundred years ; and IMr Van Praet rushed, but rushed in vain, amidst the royal book-treasures at Paris to see if a copy of the said J'aldarfer Boccaccio could there be found! The price electrified the bystanders, and as- tounded the public ! ' " What boots it to recount minutely the various achievements which marked the conclusion of the Roxburgh contest, or to describe in the manner of Sterne, the melancholy devastations which followed that deathless day? The battle languished towards its termination [ratiier, we suspect, from a failure of anununition than of valour or spirit on the part of the combatants] ; but notwith- standing, there was oftentimes a disposition manifested to resuuie the glories of the earlier part of the day — and to show that the spirit of bibliomania was not made of poor and perisiiable stutK Illustrious be the names of the book- heroes, who both conquered and fell during the tremendous conflict just de- ^ The minrquis's triumph was marked by a plaudit of hands, and presently after lie offered his hand to lord Spencer, sajing, " We are good friends stili !" His lordship replied, " Per- fectl}', indeed I am obliged to )ou." " So am I to )0U." said the marquis •, ''.so the obligation is mutual." He dwlared that it was his intention to liave gone as far as £5000. Th"! noblo marquis had previously possessed a ropy of tlie siime ediXioii, wanting five leaves; *' for which five leaves," lord S. remarked, " he might be said to have given £2(JC0." ur. 2 R 314 KER. scribed! And let it be said, that John duke of Roxburgh both deserved well of his country and the book cause." Mr Dibdin gives many other instructive particulars respecting this sale. He mentions that the duke's library occupied a range of apartments in the second floor of his house ; and in a room adjoining, and into which the library opened, " slept and died" the illustrious collector himself. "All his migrations," says Ml Dibdin, " were confined to these two rooms. When Mr Nichol showed me the very bed upon which this bibliomaniacal duke had expired, I felt — as I trust I ought to have felt, upon the occasion !" He also informs us that a gentleman who bought many articles was generally understood to be an agent of the em- peror Napoleon, but at last turned out to have been a secret emissary of the duke of Devonshire. A letter which he received from Sir Walter Scott on the occasion of this sale, is too characteristic to be omitted. " The Roxburgh sale," says the author of Mannion, " sets my teeth on edge. But if 1 can trust mine eyes, there are now twelve masons at work on a cottage and offices at this little farm, which I purchased last year. Item, 1 have planted thirty acres, and am in the act of walling a garden. Item, I have a wife and four bairns crying, as our old song has it, ' porridge ever mair.' So, on the whole, my teeth must get off the edge, as those of the fox with the grapes in the fable. Abbotsford, by Melrose, 3rd May, 1812." It would be improper, in a memoir of the duke of Roxburgh, to omit a circum- stance so honourable to his name as the formation of the society called the " liox- burgh." " The number of noblemen and gentlemen," says Sir Walter Scott,^ " distinguished by their taste for this species of literature, who assembled there [at the sale] from day to day, and lamented or boasted the event of the compe- tition, was unexampled ; and in short the concourse of attendants terminated in the formation of a society of about thirty amateui-s, having the learned and ami- able earl Spencer at their head, who agreed to constitute a club, which should have for its object of union the common love of rare and curious volumes, and should be distinguished by the name of that nobleman, at the dispersion of whose library the proposal had taken its rise, and who had been personally known to most of the members. We are not sure whether tiie publication of rare tracts Avas an original object of their friendly re-union, or, if it was not, how and when it came to be engrafted thereupon. Early, however, after the formation of the Roxburgh Club, it became one of its rules, that each member should present ..iie society, at such time as he might find most convenient, with an edition of a curious manuscript, or the reprint of some ancient tract, the selection being left at the pleasure of the individual himself. These books were to be printed in a handsome manner, and uniformly, and were to be distributed among tlie gen- tlemen of the club. * * * * Under this system, the Roxburgh Club has proceeded and flourished for many years, and produced upwards of forty re- prints of scarce and curious tracts, among which many are highly interesting, not only from their value, but also their intrinsic merit." It remains only to be added, that this association has been the model of several others in different parts of the world. We are aware, at least, of La So- ciete des Biblioglyphes in Paris, and the Bannatyne, Maitland, and Abbotsford Clubs in our own country. Such institutions show that a taste for literary an- tiquities is extending amongst us ; yet it must also be stated, that the desire of forming libraries such as that of the duke of Roxburgh is much on the decline, and that if his grace's stock had been brought to the hammer in our own day, it would have neither created the sensation which it did create, nor brought sucli ** astounding" prices. * Quarluily Review, xliv. 447. KER. 315 KER, Robert, earl of Ancruni, a nobleman of literary accomplishment, and the direct ancestor of the present noble family of Lothian, Avas descended from a third son of Sir Andrew Ker of Ferniehurst, and entered public life as laird of Ancnun in Roxburghshire. He was born about the year 1578, and succeeded to the family estate in 1590, on the death of his father, who was assassinated by his kinsman, Robert Ker, younger of C'essford. He was cousin to the famous, or rather infamous Robert Ker, the favourite of James VI., and who was raised by that prince to the title of earl of Somerset. The subject of this memoir appears to have also been honoured, at an early period of life, with court favour. Soon after the king's accession to the English throne, he is observed to occupy a considerable station in the household of prince Henry, which was, perhaps, more splendid, and consisted of more persons than the present royal household. t He afterwards was employed about the person of prince Charles, who became his patron through life. By the mediation of this prince, a match was effected between Sir Robert and the lady Anne Stanley, daughter of the earl of Derby. In 1620, Sir Robert was involved in a fatal quarrel by a young man named Charles Maxwell, who insulted him, Avilhout the least provocation, as he was entering the palace at Newmarket. In a duel, which followed, Sir Robert killed liis antagonist ; and, although the friends of the deceased are said to have acquitted him of all blame, so strict were the rules established by the king for the prevention and punishment of duels, that he was obliged to fly to Holland, where he remained about a year. During his exile, he employed himself in the collection of pictures, for which, like his royal master, he had a good taste : those which he brought with him on In's return, were eventually presented to the prince. He was also distinguished by his literary taste. In Drunimond's works there are a letter and sonnet >vhich he addressed, in 1624, to that poet, and Avhich breathe an amiable and contemplative spirit. The latter is as follows : A SONNET IN PRAISE OF A SOLITARY LIFE. Sweet solitary life 1 lovely, dumb joy, That need'sl no warnings liow to grow more wise By otliLT men's mishaps, nor the annoy Which from sore wrongs done to one's self dotli rise. Tlie morning's second mansion, truth's first friend, Never acquainted with the world's vain broils. Where the whole day to our own use wc spend, And our dear time no fierce ambition spoils. Most happy st;ite, that never takest revenge For injuries received, nor dost fear ' The court's great earthquake, tlie grieved truth of chaiigc. Nor none of falseliood's savoury lies dost hear; Nor knows hope's sweet disease that charms our sense, Nor its sad cure — dear-bought experience! R. K. A. On the accession of Charles to the throne, in 1G25, Sir Robert Ker was one of the friends who experienced his favour. He was in that year constituted a gentleman of the bed-chamber, and in June, 1633, wlien the king was in Scol- land at his coronation, he was elevated to the peerage, under the title of earl of Ancrum. Previous to this period, his son William, by his fust wife Eliza- beth, daughter of Sir John Murray of Rlackbarony, liad married his relative, Anne, countess of Lothian in her o>vn right, and had been, by the king, en- 316 KERR. dowed with a full participation of that title. It was therefore arranged, in the patent granted to the subject of this memoir, that his own title should descend to the children of his second marriage. He thus enjoyed the singular honour of being father of two peers. Unlike many other persons who owed every thing to this prince, the earl of Ancruni continued his steady adherent during the Avhole of his troubles ; though he was unable to prevent liis eldest son, the earl of Lothian, from acting one of the most conspicuous parts on the opposite side. On the death of Charles, his lordship took refuge in Holland, where he spent the remainder of his days in solitary afflictions and poverty, and died in 1654, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. His title was inherited by his son Charles, but ultimately merged in that of Lothian. In Park's edition of Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, there is a beautiful portrait of his lordship, assigning him a thoughtful and strongly- marked countenance, and apparently done in old age. KERR, Robert, a miscellaneous writer, was born in the year 1755.^ He was the son of Mr James Kerr of Bughtridge, jeweller in Edinburgh, convener of the trades and M.P. for the city, which honours he held at the same time,'' by Elizabeth, daughter of lord Charles Kerr, second son of Robert, first marquis of Lothian. Mr Kerr was educated at the High school and university of Edin- burgh ; and having qualified himself to act as a surgeon, entered into business as partner with an aged practitioner named Wardrope, whose daughter he subsequent- ly married. He had the misfortune to be very lame in one of his limbs, which caused him to sink greatly to one side in walking. His first literary elfort was a translation of Lavoisier's Elements of Chemistry, published in 1789, in which year he also gave to the world a version of BerthoUet's Essay on the New Method of Bleaching by means of Muriatic Acid and Oxygen. The approbation with which these publications were received, induced him to commence a translation of Linnaeus's Zoological System ; two volumes of which were published, (4to) in 1792, but which did not meet with so much success as to tempt him to proceed with the rest. Having failed with the dry classifications of the Swedish philo- sopher, he commenced a translation of the more popular work of Buffon on Ovi- parous Quadrupeds and Serpents, the first volume of which appeared in 1793, and the fourth and last in 1800. The execution of these translations was high- ly extolled in the reviews of the time, and caused Mr Kei*r to be respectfully known in the world of letters. The political predilections of this gentleman being decidedly whiggish, he published in 1794, a pamphlet, entitled " A Vindication of the Friends of Free- dom from the aspersion of Disloyalty ;" being designed, as its name imports, to prove that the liberality of his party was not inconsistent with a steady attach- ^ The exact place of his biith is not known ; but it was a mansion in Roxburghshire, near the Cheviot hills, where his mother happened to be on a visit at the lime. Tlie usual resi- dence of his parents was, in Edin))urgli. 2 An intimate friend of Mr Robert Kerr, supplies;us with the following information re- specting his father : — " Mr James Kerr was the son of a jeweller in the Parliament Square, Edinburgh, whose shop was attached to the walls of the old cithedral of St Giles ; the first on the right hand in going into the square. The house occupii'd by this person was a mere cellar under the shoji, and partly projecting below the adjacent pavement, from which its sole light was derived by means of a grating. In consequence of the famil}', which was very immerous, being brought up in this miseralile and unhealthy hovel, they all died in infancy, except the father of the au- thor, whose life was saved by his being removed to more roomy accommodations on the oppo- site side of the square. Mr James Kerr was the hist citizen who had the honour to represent the city in parliament. It may be mentioned that he was one of the jury on the famous trial of Carnegie of Finhaven, for the murder of the earl of Slrathmore in 1728 ,when, through the persuasive eloquence of the first lord president Dundas, then at tlie bar, and counsel for tlie prisoner, the jury recognized the liberty of Scotland, by resuming the light to judge not only of the naked fact, but of the fact and the law conjunctively." KIRKALDY. 317 merit to llie existing moiiarcliical form of govei'nment. The prevailing tone of Ills mind was political, and lie used to argue on topics which interested him with great ardour and even enthusiasm, insomuch that he often appeared suffering from passion when he was not. In the year 1794, Mr Kerr was induced to embark his fortune, which was not inconsiderable, in the puri;hase and management of a paper-mill at Ayton in Berwickshire. The speculation, after a trial of several years, turned out un- fortunately, and reduced him in the latter part of life to circumstances very in- consistent with his -merits, cither as a man or as an author. These circum- stances, however, x'enewed his exertions in literature, after they had been long intermitted. In 1809, he published a General View of the Agriculture of Ber wickshire, and in 1811, Memoirs of Mr William Smellie, and a History of Scot- land during the reign of Iiobert Bruce, both of which last were in two volumes oc- tavo. About the same time, he conducted through the press, for Mr Black- wood, a General Collection of Voyages and Travels, in eighteen volumes octavo. The memoirs cf Mr Smellie, though disproportioned to the subject, contain much valuable literary anecdote. IMr Kerr's last work was a translation of Cuvier's lissay on t!ie Theory of the Earth, which was published in 1815 (after his deatli), with an introduction and notes by professor Jamieson. The event just alluded to took place on the 1 1th of October, 1813, when he was about fifty-eight years of age. He left one son, a captain in the navy, and two daughters, both of whom Avere married. BIr Kerr was a kind and wann-hearted man, liberal and honourable in his dealings, possessed of extensive information, and in every respect an ornament to society. KIRKALDY, William, one of the earliest converts to the pi-otestant faith in Scotland, and a brave and accomplished man, was the eldest son of Sir James Kirkaldy of Grange, high treasurer to Jcuics V. of Scotland.' Of the period of liis birth and the method of his education we have been unable to discover any satisfactory information ; but like the greater number of the Scottish barons at that time, he seems to have chosen, or to have been devoted by his parents, to the profession of arms. At the der.th of James, his father seems to have lost his situation in the government ; yet witii a view of procuring that nobleman's assis- tance to the cause of protestantism, he was one of the most active assistants in raising Arran to the regency ; but in the hope he had I'ormed, he was to a con- siderable extent disappointed. Young Grange, as well as his father, had embraced the principles of the Refor- mation ; and his first appearance in the historic page is as one of the conspira- tors against the persecutor, cardinal Uavi«l Beaton. Tiie circumstances of this renowned conspiracy are well known to the readers of history, and have already been commemorated in these pages. The conspirators, who, for some time after they had performed their zealous act in the cause of their creed, are said to have spent the period of their dangerous residence in the castle of St Andrews in riot and debauchery, surrendered themselves after a siege to a French force in the end of July or the beginning of August, 154(1. It was stipulated that the lives of all that were in the castle should be spared ; that they should be transported to France, whence, if they did not choose to continue in that country, they were to be transported to whatever other country they chose, Scotland excepted. The victors, however, did not find it necessary or convenient to attend to tiie terms of the stipulation ; the greater part of the garrison were sent to the gal- 1 The facts in this article are in general taken from the memoir of Kirkaldy of Grange l)y Mr Graham Daiziel, a gentleman who has been so minute in his investigations tliat it would be difficult to find a fact of importance omitted by him. 318 KIRKALDY. leys, and the leaders immured in different dungeons. Norman Leslie, Peter Canuicliael, and the subject of this memoir, uere imprisoned in Mount St Michael, where they Liy a considerable time. From this place they wrote a let- ter to John Knox, who was in the galleys, asking the somewhat superfluous ques- tion whether they might not with a good conscience break their 2>rison, To tliis Knox naturally answered in the aflirmative, with the proviso, that they were not morally entitled to shed blood in the attempt. Embracing the opportunity of a festival night, when the garrison Avere intoxi- cated, they bound every man in the castle, locked the doors, and departed, hav- ing, it is said, strictly adhered to the humane recommendation of Knox. The two Leslies came to llolian, and speedily escaped ; but Kirkaldy and Peter Car- michael, disguised as beggars, wandered through the country for upwards of a quarter of a year ; at the termination of which period they got on board a French ship, which landed them in the west of Scotland, whence they found their way into England. Kirkaldy appears to have spent a considerable portion of the ensuing period of his life in France, where he entered the army, and was distinguished as a brave and skilful soldier in the wars between the French king and the emperor Charles V. Sir James 3Ielville informs us, that in these wars he commanded a hundred light horsemen ; and for his useful services, received the commendation of the duke of Vendome, the prince of Conde, and the duke of Aumale. Henry II., he adds, used to point him out and say, " Yonder is one of the most valiant men of our age." Henry indeed seems to have used him with the most endearing familiarity, and in all the pastimes which he attended, is said to have chosen Grange as a supporter of his own side, in their mimic battles ; while, according to the same writer, who is always circumstantial in recording the honours paid to a Scotsman, the great constable of France would never speak to him uncovered. We are not aware of the exact date of his return to Scotland, but we find him in that country in the year 1559. During the border wars of this period, an incident occurred peculiarly char- acteristic of the chivalrous temper of Kirkaldy, which is otherwise remarkable as being the latest " passage of arms " which has been handed down to us, de- scribed with all the minute " pomp and circumstance " of Froissart. Lindsay of Pitscottie, who describes the circumstance, tells us, that lord Evers's brother de- sired to fight with Kirkaldy " ane singular conibatt upone horseback with speares." Sir William was " very weill content" with such a species of amuse- ment, and consented to meet the challenger on any spot he might prefer. The lord Evers's brother was attended by the governor of Benvick and his whole gar- rison, while Kirkaldy was waited on by " Monseor Doswell (Mons. d' Osvvell ?), the king of France lieftennent," with the garrison of Heymouth, and other Scot- tish gentlemen. In bringing the opposing armies so near each other, and within view of example so seducing, it was necessary to " decerne under paine of treasoun, that no man should come near the championes, be the space of ane flight shot." Each of the champions had a squire to bear his spear, there were two trumpeters to sound the charge, and after the most approved method, two lords were appointed as judges of the field, " to sie the matter finished." " And when all things war put to ordour, and the championes horsed, and their speirs in their hands, then the trumpeters sounded, and the heralds cryed, and tlie judges let them go, and they ran together very furiously on both sides, hot the laird of Grange ran his adversar, the Inglisman, throw his shoulder blaid, and all* his hors, and was woundit deadlie, and in perill of his lyfi"; but quhidder he died or lived I cannot tell/ bot the laird of Grange wan the victorie that day." '■^ Liiidiay of Pitscottie, v.. 524. KIRKALDY. 319 Kirkaldy became aftei* this incident actively engaged in the cause of the Re- formation. When the French troops arrived to subdue Scotland, and by means of the popish faction reduce it to a province of France, no man stood firmer to the interests of his country, and in the first encounter he is said to have slain the first man with his own hand. To tlie French, who were aware of his bravery and military skill, he Mas particularly obnoxious, and in one of their inroads tiirough Fife they razed his house of Grange to the foundation. Natu- rally exasperated at such an act, Kirkaldy sent a defiance to the French com- mander ; reproached him for his barbarity, and reminded him of the many Frenchmen whom he had saved when engaged in quarrels not his own. The commander, less chivalrous than Grange, paid no regard to the communication ; and the latter took vengeance by waylaying a party of marauders, and cutting them otf to a man. During this invasion of Fife by the French, he had a mere handful of men, and these were but poorly provided, yet he retarded the powerful and Avell-appointed troops of France at every village and at every field, disputing as it were, every inch of ground, and making them purchase at a ruinous price every advantage. In connnon with all the wise and good among his countrymen, Kirkaldy was convinced of the danger of the French alliance, and of the far superior advan- tages which might be derived from a connexion with England, which by a bar barous and ignorant policy had been always overlooked or despised, and he contributed materially to the formation of tliat friendship which subsisted be- tween the ministers of Elizabeth and the Scottish reformers, without whicli, it may be doubted if the reformation of that country could have been efi'ected. In the contests that arose between Blary and her suijjects, while it must be admitted that his correspondence with the English was clandestine, contrary to the law, and not perhaps dictated by motives quite purely patriotic, he steadily adiiered to the popular cause. Kirkaldy v.as among the number of the adherents of IVIoray, who on the temporary success of the queen, wex'e compelled in 15(35, to take refuge or " banish themselves " in England, and the criminal record shows us some instances of barbarous punishment denounced on those ^\ho had in- tercourse witli them, as " intcrcommuning with rebels."^ When after her unhappy marriage and flight to Dunbar, she returned with an army to meet the lords wlio had entered into a confederation for the preser- vation of the prince. Grange was one of the most active and influential among them, having the command of two hundred horse, with which he intended at Carberry hill, by a stratagem, to have seized upon the earl of IJothwell, which he hoped would have been the means of putting an end to the contest between the queen and her subjects. Tlie queen, however, who highly respected him, perceiving the approach of the troop, and understanding that he was their leader, requested to speak with him, wliich prevented the attempt being made. While he was in this conference with the queen, Botlnvcll called forth a soldier to shoot him, who was in tlie very act of taking aim, when the queen perceiving /lim, gave a sudden scream, and exclaimed to Bolhuell, that he surely would not disgrace her so far as to murder a man who stood under her protection. >\ ith that frank honesty wliich was natural to him, Kirkaldy told her that it Avas of absolute necessity, if she ever expected to enjoy the services and the con- fidence of her subjects, that she should abandon Bothwell, who was the nmrderer ot her husband, and who could never be a husband to her, having been so lately married to the sister of the earl of Huntly. Bothwell, who stood near enough to overhear part of this colloquy, offered to vindicate himself by single combat, Irom the charge of any one who should accuse him of murdeiung the 3 I'itcaini's Crim. Trials, i. (p. i.} 466, 478. 320 KIRKALDY. king. Gi'ange told him he should have a speedy answer ; and returning to the lords, found little difficulty in persuading them of the propriety of his accepting the challenge, which he did without hesitation. Bothwell, however, thought it prudent to decline, on the plea that Kirkaldy being only a baron, was not his equal. To the laird of TuUibardine he objected on the same ground. The lord Lindsay then came forward, whom he could not refuse on the score of in- equality ; but he finally declined to engage. The queen then sent again for Grange, and proposed surrendering herself to the lords. Bothwell, in the mean time, made his escape. The queen holding out her hand, Kirkaldy kissed it, and taking her horse by the bridle turned him about, and led her down the hill. This was almost the full measure of IMary's humiliation, which was accomplished by her entry into Edinburgh amidst the execrations of the i-abble. The lords, (particularly Kirkaldy) were still willing to treat her with kindness, if she could have been prevailed on to abandon Bothwell. The same night, however, she wrote a letter to him, calling him " her dear heart, whom she should never for- get nor abandon, though she was under the necessity of being absent from him for a time ;" adding, tiiat she had sent him away only for his own safety, and willing him to be comforted, and to be watchful and take care of himself. This letter falling into the hands of the lords, convinced them that her passion for Bothwell was incurable ; and they determined to secure her in Lochleven. Grange alone wished to excuse her, and hoped that gentle usage might yet re- claim her ; but they showed him her letter to Bothwell which had fallen into their hands, which left him no room to speak more on her behalf. The queen, in the mean time, sent him a letter, lamenting her hard usage, and complaining of broken promises. He wrote to her in return, stating what he had already at- tempted in her behalf, and how his mouth had been stopped by her letter to Both- well ; " marvelling that her majesty considered not that the said earl could never be her lawful husband, being so lately before married to another, whom he had deserted without any just ground, even though he had not been so hated for the murder of the king her husband. He therefore requested her to dismiss him entirely from her mind, seeing otherwise that she could never obtain the love or respect of her subjects, nor have that obedience paid her which otherwise she might expect." His letter contained many other loving and humble admonitions which made her bitterly to weep. Eager to free the queen and the nation of Bothwell, Grange most willingly accepted the command of two small vessels that had been fitted up from Morton's private purse (for Bothwell had not left a sufficient sum for the purpose in the Scottish treasury), with which he set sail towards Ork- ney, whither it was reported Bothwell had fled. He was accompanied by tlie laird of TuUibardine and Adam Bothwell, bishop of Orkney. Bothwell having made his escape from Orkney, was pursued by Grange to the coast of Norway, where, at the moment when they had almost overtaken the fugitive, the impetu- osity of Kirkaldy, who called on the mariners to hoist more sail than the vessel was able to carry, lost them their prize, and they were wrecked on a sand bank. Bothwell escaped in a small boat to the shore, leaving his ship and his servants a prey to Kirkaldy. This unhappy man fled to Denmark, and the method of his end is too well known to be repeated. The regent Moray was in the mean time establishing order and tranquillity generally through the country. The king, an infant, had been crowned at Stirling, and his authority in the person of the regent very generally acknow- ledged, when the queen, making her escape from Lochleven, and putting her- self into the hands of the Hamiltons, created new and serious calamities. The vegent being at that time in Glasgow, holding his justice-eyre, was just KIRKALDY. 321 at hand, and meeting with the queen and her followers at Langside, on the way for Dumbarton castle, gave them, tliough they were far more in number than all the king's friends that he could muster, an entire overthrow. The regent led the battle himself, assisted by Grange, who being an experienced soldier, was appointed to oversee the whole battle ; to ride to every wing, and to encourage and make help wherever it was most required. The dispositions of the regent were excellent, and his followers behaved with great courage ; so that the vic- tory was soon won, and there being few horsemen to pursue, and the regent calling out to save and not to kill, there were not many taken or killed; the greatest slaughter, according to Sir James Melville, being at the first rencounter by tlie shot of some troops that were planted behind the dykes at the head of the lane leading up to the village. Having taken the command of the castle of Edinburgh from Sir James Bal- four, the regent bestowed it upon (irange, who appears to have had the prin- cipal direction of affairs during the time that Moray through the intrigues of the queen's faction was called up to tiie conferences at York. Lethington, subtile, restless, and changeable, had by tiiis time changed to the queen's side, whom he almost openly owned during the time of these conferences, and he had im- posed upon the unsuspecting disposition of Grange, enticing him into a kind of doubtful neutrality, which had an unhappy influence upon the public cause, and ended fatally for Grange himself. Letliington and Sir James Balfour liav- ing been both at last ai'rested under an accusation of having been concerned in the king's murder. Grange took them into his own hands, and protected tiiem in the castle, which he refused to deliver up to the regent. On the murder of the regent Moray in 1570, it did not immediately appear what party Grange would embrace. It was evident, however, that for some time previous to this event he had leaned to the side of the queen, and the castle of Edinburgh in a short time became the resort and general rendezvous of all who opposed the party of the prince. The earl of Lennox succeeding to the regency was supported by Elizabeth, Avlio sent an army into Scotland for that purpose, and to retaliate upon some of the border chieftains, who had made inroads into the English territories, parti- cularly liuccleugh and Eernihurst. (irange, in tiie mean time, by the orders of the queen's faction, who now assembled parliaments of tiieir own, liberated all those who had been formerly given iiim in charge as prisoners, for their op- position to the king in the person of the regent These, dispersing themselves over the country, some pretending to be employed in a civil, and others in a military capacity, carried dissension and rebellion along with them, to the entire ruin of the miserable inhabitants. Lord Seaton, to intimidate the citizens of lulinburgh, who in general leaned to the side of the king, assembled his vassals at Holyrood house, while the llamiltons, with the whole strength of their fac- tion, assembled at Linlithgow, when they made a sudden and unexpected attack upon the castle of (jlasgow, the residence of Lennox the regent. Coming upon the pli ce by surprise, they gained the court, and set fire to the great hail ; but they wore soon repulsed, and the approach of the king's army, a principal part of which was English, compelled them to raise the siege. The Hamiltons suf- fered most severely on this occasion, their lands in Clydesdale being ravaged, t'adzow plundered, and the town of Hamilton, with the seat of the Hamiltons, burned to the ground. Nor did this suflice ; they also burned the house of tiio duke of Chateliierault in Linlithgow, the palace of Kinnoul, the house of Pardovan, and Bynie, Kincavil, and (he chapel of Livingston. Grange, meanwhile, acting somewhat dubiously, and not supporting the ex- treme measures of eilher of the parties, was confounded to sec a foreign foe in ui 2 s 3?2 KIRKALDY. the he.irt of the kingdom, and Mary's friends used with such extreme rigour; and afraid of being entrapped himself, began to fortify the castle with all haste, and lay in every thing necessary for a siege. Lennox, in tlie mean time, sum- moned an army in the king's name to attend him, with twenty days' provision,^ and to complete his equipments, he applied to Grange for some field-pieces. The request was, however, refused, under a pretence that he would not be acces- sory to the shedding of blood. The purpose of this armament was to interfere witii a parliament which the queen's party intended to have held at Linlithgow, wiiich it effectually accomplished ; and on the following month (October) Len- nox held one for tiie king in Edinburgh. The insignia of royalty being sup- posed necessary to the legality of parliaments, they were demanded from Grange, who flatly refused them, and from that time forth he was regarded as deteruiin- edly hostile to tliat cause for which he had done and s\ifl*ered so much. Tlirough the mediation of Elizabeth, however, who was at the time amusing Mary and her friends with proposals for restoring her to some part of her authority, a ces- sation of hostilities was agreed upon for two months, which being renewed, was continued till the succeeding April, 1571. The truce, however, was not strictly observed by either of the parties. For- tresses were taken and retaken on both sides oftener than once, and in the month of April, Dumbarton castle, reckoned impregnable, was taken by surprise by the friends of the regent, who, on a sentence of forfaulture in absence, hanged Hamilton, archbishop of St Andrews, who had taken refuge in the place. Alarmed at the fate of Dumbarton, Grange repaired the walls of the castle, cnt away all the prominences on the rock, and smoothed the banks to prevent the jiossibility of an escalade. He also prepared the steeple f>f St Giles for receiving a battery, and carried away the ordnance belonging to the town. His brother James at the same time arrived from France with " ten thousand crowns of gold, some nuirrions, corslets, hagbuts, and wine, whilk was saiflie convoyit from Leyth be tlie horsemen and soldiers of the town." All men who favoured not the queen were now commanded to leave the town, and even his old tried friend and fellow sufferer, John Knox, was obliged to quit his place, which w.as supplied by Alexander, bishop of Galloway. The regent's soldiers, liowever, took pos- session of some ruinous houses close to the \valls, whence they annoyed the town. There was now an end to all business ; public worship ceased, and there was nothing to be heard but the thundering of artillery. The queen's party had now, however, the pride of also holding a parliament in Edinburgh, wliich declared the demission of fllary null ; forbade any innovation to be made in the presbyterian religion; and after two or three hours deliberation, rode in procession from the Canongate to the castle, having the regalia borne before it. Prayers for the queen were ordered by this meeting, and all who omitted them were forbidden to preach. During these proceedings, there were daily skirmishes on the streets, and the regent still kept possession of Holyrood house. In the month of August in this year, an envoy arrived from the king of France, with money, arms, and anununition for Grange ; but the money fell into the hands of the regent. In the ensuing month. Grange laid a jdan for seizing the regent at Stirling, and bringing him safe to the castle, which failed of success only through, the impruden(;e of those who conducted it. The regent was actually made a j»risoner, and on the road for Edinburgh, when, principally through the valour of Morton, he was rescued, but shot by one of the party, when they saw they could not carry him a\vay. David Spens of Wormiston, who had him in charge, and used every en;leavour to save him, ^vas also shot in revenge, though the woinided regent attempted to jnotect him. This was unfortunate for Grange. Mar was inunediately elected regent ; a man of far higher merit, and much KlUKALDY. 323 more respected than Lennox, and in still greater favour witli the ministers of Eliza- beth; and he in the end proved too strong for the niisk^d, though patriotic Grange. The war now assumed the most ferocious character. Morton destroyed the whole of Grange's properly in Fife. Grange, on the same day retaliated by burning Dalkeitli ; and for upwards of two montiis they recipi'ocally hanged their prisoners. 'Ihe distress of llie town and the surrounding districts now became extreme ; the poor were turned without the gates, and the empty houses pulled down and sold for fuel ; a stone weight being sold for what would purchase a peck of meal. Through the mediation of the English and French ambassadoi's, an ar- mistice was at last agreed to, and all the ditt'erences between 3iorton and Grange nearly made up. Through the intrigues of Blaitland, however, who had gained an extx'aordinary influence over him, Grange rose in his demands, and nothing was accomplished furtlier than a renewal of the truce. In the mean time ]Mar, who was a sincere, good man, and truly devoted to the public in- terests, died, and was succeeded by IMorton, a man of great address, and the mortal enemy of fllaitland. He too, however, professed to desire peace, and offered the same terms as Mar. Grange Avas to deliver up the castle in six months, and a convention was called to consider the means of effecting of Kirkaldy there appt'ai^s to havf brcn consick-raMe dd'ati' on tin- re- levancy of llic indiftimiit on wliich lii; was tried, too ttchuiral to be intcrtsling to tlir giiii'ial reader. — Pilcaini\ Ciiin. Trials, ii. 3. 324 KNOX. a volatile and crafty statesman, and of his own vanity to be head of a party. He had been one of tlie earliest friends, and, during its first days of peril, one of the most intrepid defenders of the Reformation. Knox, who knew and loved hiiu well, lamented his apostasy, and with that sagacity which was peculiar to his character, admonished him of the issue. " That man's soul is dear to me," said Knox, " and I would not willingly see it perish; go and tell him from me, that, if he persists in his folly, neither that crag in which he miserably confides, nor the carnal wit of that man whom he counts a demi-god, shall save him ; but he shall be dragged forth, and hanged in the face of the sun." He returned a contemptuous answer dictated by Maitland ; but he remembered the warning when on the scaffold with tears, and listened with eagerness when he was told the hope that Knox always expressed, that, though the work of grace upon his heart was sadly obscured, it was still real, and would approve itself so at last ; of which he expressed with great humility his own sincere conviction. KIRKWOOD, James, an eminent teacher and writer on grammar, in the lat- ter part of the seventeenth century, was born near Dunbar. The circumstances of his education are unknown ; he was first schoolmaster of Linlithgow, and sub- sequently of Kelso. His school at Linlithgow was one of considerable reputation, and he would appear to have been intrusted, like many teachers of the present day, with pupils who boarded in his house. The celebrated John, second earl of Stair, was thus educated by him. The first work ascertained to have been published by him, was an " Easy Grammar" of the Latin language, which ap- peared at Glasgow in 1674. In 1677, he published at London an octavo fas- ciculus of " Sentences," for the use of learners. In the succeeding year ap- peared his " Compendium of Rhetoric," to which was added a small treatise on Analysis. After the Revolution, he was sent for by the parliamentary commis- sioners for colleges, on the motion of lord president Stair ; and his advice was taken about the best Latin grammar for the Scottish schools. The lord president asked him what he thought of Despauter. He answered, " A very un- fit grammar ; but by some pains it might be made a good one." The lord Cross- rig desiring him to be more plain on this point, he said, " My lord president, if its superfluities were rescinded, the defects supplied, the intricacies cleared, the errors rectified, and the method amended, it might pass for an excellent grammar." The lord president afteruards sent for him, and told him it was the desire of the commissioners that he should immediately reform Despauter, as he had proposed; as they knew none fitter for the task. He according publislied, in 1695, a revised edition of Despauter, which continued to be commonly used in schools till it was superseded by Ruddiman's Rudiments. Kirkwood was a luan of wit and fancy, as well as of learning ; and having fallen into an unfor- tunate quarrel with liis patrons the magistrates, which ended in his dismission, he took revenge by publishing a satirical pamphlet, entitled " The twenty-seven gods of Linlithgow," meaning thereby the twenty-seven members of the town- council. He appears to have afterwards been chosen schoolmaster at Kelso, where he probably died. KNOX, John, the most eminent promoter of the Reformation in Scotland, was born at Haddington in the year 1505. His fatlier, though himself a man of no note, was descended from the ancient house of Ranfurly in the shire of Renfrew. Of the mother of the great reformer nothing farther is known than that her name was Sinclair, — a name which he frequently used in after-life, when to have subscribed his own would have exposed him to danger : thus many of his letters in times of trouble are signed " John Sinclair." Though a man of no rank in society, his father would yet seem to have been possessed of a com- petency beyond that of the ordinary class of the peasantry of the times, if such an inference be permitted from the circuiustrnce of his having given liis son an KNOX. 325 education which was then attvas after\\ards so singular a promoter; but from a feeling of diflidence in his own powers, and a deep sense of the awful importance of the charge to which he was invited ; he besides enter- tained some scruples as to the regularity of the call which was now made upon him, and with a conscientiousness and feeling of delicacy which became his 328 KNOX. religious professions, expressed a fear that his coming forward as a preacher, on the summons of only two or three individuals, might be deemed an intrusion into the sacred office of the ministry. Bent on their object, however, the three persons above named, without Knox's knowledge, consulted with the members of the church in which Kough preached, and the result was the fixing of a certain day when Knox should, in the name and in the face of the whole congregation, be called upon by the mouth of their preacher to accept the office of the ministry. On the day appointed, and while Knox was yet wholly unaware of what was to take place, Rough, after preaching a sermon on the election of ministers, in which he maintained the right of a congregation, however small its numbers, to elect its own pastor ; and he farther maintained, that it was sinful to refuse to obey such a call -when made : then suddenly turning to Knox — " Brother," he said, " you shall not be offended although I speak unto you that which I have in charge, even from all those that are hei'e present, which is this, — In the name of God and of his Son Jesus Christ, and in the name of all that presently call you by my mouth, I charge you that you refuse not this holy vocation, but, as you tender the glory of God, the increase of Christ's kingdom, the edification of your brethren, and the comfort of me, whom you understand well enough to be oppressed by the multitude of labours, that you take the public office and charge of preaching, even as you look to avoid God's heavy displeasure, and desire that he shall multiply his graces unto you." Turning now to the congregation, " AVas not this your charge unto me?" he said, *' and do ye not approve this vocation ?" — " It was, and we approve it," was the reply. Deeply impressed with tiie circumstance, Knox made an attempt to address the audience, but his feelings overcame him ; he burst into tears, and rushed out of the church. Though not without the hesitation and the doubts and fears of an ingenuous and religious mind, Knox accepted tiie charge thus solemnly and strikingly imposed upon him, and on an appointed day appeared in the pulpit. On this occasion, a highly interesting one, as being the first public appearance of the great reformer as a preacher of the gospel, he gave out the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth verses of the seventh chapter of Daniel, a choice which shows the great changes which he already anticipated in the religious establishments of the land, and the confidence with which he looked forwai-d to the result of the contest now begun Avith tiie church of Rome. The sermon which he preached on this occasion subjected him to the high displeasure of the church dignitaries ; he and Rough were sunnnoned before a convention of learned men to answer for the heretical doctrines whicli they entertained and promulgated. In the controversy which took place in this assembly between Knox and the person appointed to dispute with him, a grey friar of the name of Arbukill, on the various points at issue, the former so utterly discomfited his opponent, and so strongly established his own positions, that the Romish clergy, resigning all hopes of maintaining their ground, either by scriptural appeals, or by force of reasoning, carefully avoided for the future nil such exhibitions of public disputation. The castle of St Andrews, in which Knox still found refuge, was soon after this, June, 1547, besieged by a French fleet, which had been despatched from France to assist the governor in its re- duction ; and after a stout resistance of several weeks' duration, the garrison was compelled to capitulate, and all within it were made prisoners of war. Knox and all the others who were taken with him were carried on board the Frencii ships, which soon afterwards proceeded with them to France. On their arrival there the greater part of them were distributed throughout different prisons ; but Knox, with two or three others, were detained on board the gal- leys in the Loire during the whole of the succeeding winter. His confinement KNOX. 329 on ship-board altogether extended to nineteen months. At the end of that long period his liberation took place ; but how it was efTected is not certainly known. On obtaining his liberty, Knox immediately proceeded to England, where the Reformation was making considerable progress, under the auspices of arch- bishop Cranmer, and other powerful persons in that kingdom. Knox's reputa- tion as a preacher and zealous reformer was already well known to Cranmer and his colleagues, who were not long in finding him suitable employment. He was despatched by the privy council to Berwick to preach the reformed doc- trines, and was allowed a salary for his maintenance. Here he remained for two years, daily strengthening the great cause in which he was embarked, and weakening that of its opponents. During this period too, great numbers were converted by his powerful reasoning and impressive eloquence ; nor were tiie good effects of his ministry confined to the effecting a beneficial change in the religious sentiments of his hearers ; their morals and manners were also greatly improved by the force of his example, and the striking truths exhibited in his precepts. While in Berwick, Knox was involved in another controversy or public disputation similar to that in which he had been engaged in St Andrews. The scene on this occasion Avas Newcastle, whither he had been summoned by the bishop of Durham to appear before an assembly of the learned men of his cathedral, to discuss the doctrines which lie taught. These Knox defended with his usual ability, and witii his usual success. He retired triumphant from the debate, leaving his opponents silenced and confounded by the ingenuity and strength of his arguments, and the fervour and energy of his eloquence. His reputation was novy daily spreading wider and wider, and so highly did the privy council appreciate the value of his services, that they conferred on him in December, 1551, a singular mark of their approbation, by appointing hini one of the king's chaplains. While residing in Berwick, Knox formed an ac- quaintance with a young lady of the name of Marjory Bowes. This lady after- wards became his wife, but without the consent of her father, who could never be induced to approve of the connexion. He, however, had a warm friend in the young lady's mother, who not only gave her sanction to the marriage of her daughter, but used every effort, though without cfiect, to reconcile her husband to the event. Family pride, together with some differences of opinion in reli- gious matters, are supposed to have been the cause of 31r Bowes's objection to accept the reformer as a son-in-law. As a natural result, the nuilevolence of Knox's enemies, those who adhered to popery, kept pace with the success which attended his efforts against the Bomish church. They narrowly watched his every word and action, and at length laying hold of some expressions of a poli- tical nature which they conceived might be employed to his prejudice, they de- nounced him to the privy council. In consequence of this charge, which was supported by the duke of Northumberland, who entertained a personal dislike to Knox, he was sunnnoned up to London. The result, liowever, was in the highest degree favourable to him. He not only convinced the council of tiie uprightness of his intentions and the malice of his accusers, but succeeded in gaining a yet greater degree of favour with that body tlian he had before en- joyed. He was appointed to preach to the court, and gave sucii satisfaction in the discharge of this duty, that the privy council determined to invite him to preach in London and the southern counties during the following year. Tiicy offered him the living of All Hallows in the city. He, however, declined the ap- pointment, as also that of a bishopric, which was soon afterwards tendered hirii at the special request of the king, by whom he was much esteemed. These splendid offers of promotion he refused for conscience' sake, — there being several ni. 2 T 330 KNOX. tilings connected witli the English ecclesiastical establishment re})iignant to the faith which he had adopted ; such as the reading of homilies, the chanting of matins and even-song, the prevalence of pluralities, &c. In the mean time, the king, Edward VI. who had evinced so much readiness to patronize our reformer, died, and was succeeded by one of the most sanguin- ary and relentless enemies which the reformed religion had, during any period, to contend with. This was Mary. 'I'he accession of this princess to the throne totally altered Knox's situation and his views. Her bigotry and persecution soon made England unsafe for him to live in. Finding his danger becoming daily more and more imminent, he at length came to tlie resolution, though not without much reluctance, of retiring to the continent; and making choice of France, proceeded to Dieppe in that kingdom in the year 1554. Here he remained till the latter end of the folloAving year, occasionally visiting Geneva, then the residence of the celebrated Calvin, with whom lie formed a close intimacy. At the latter end of the autumn of 1555, Knox returned to Scotland, induced by the temporary favour which the queen dowager, Mary of Lorraine, had extended to the protestants in her dominions. As this favour, however, did not proceed from any feeling of regard for those who had adopted the Tiew faith, but was employed as a means of checking the clergy who had been averse to the dowager's obtaining the regency of the kingdom, it was of short duration, and lasted only so long as that princess thought it neces- sary to her interests. In the mean time, Knox was zealously and industriously employed in disseminating the doctrines of the reformed religion. He went from place to place preaching the gospel, and gradually increasing the number of his disciples, amongst whom he was soon able to reckon some of the first persons in the kingdom. While thus employed, he received an invitation from an English congregation at Geneva to become their pastor. With this invita- tion he thought it his duty to comply, and accordingly proceeded thither in the month of .luly, 1556. He was on this occasion accompanied by his wife and mother-in-law, the husband of the latter being now dead. On learning that he had left Scotland, the clergy there proceeded to evince those feelings regarding him Avhich they had not dared to avow, or at least to act upon, Avhile he was present. Knowing that he could not appear, they summoned him before them, passed sentence against him in absence, adjudging his body to the flames, and his soul to damnation. The first part of the sentence they made a show of car- rying into effect, by causing his efligy to be burned at the cross of Edinburgh. On reaching Geneva, he immediately took charge of his congregation, and spent the two following years in promoting their spiritual interests. This was perhaps the happiest period of Knox's life. He lived upon the most affectionate footing Avith the members of his church, by all of whom he was greatly beloved. He enjoyed the society and friendship of Calvin, and the other ministers of the city; and to complete his felicity, he lived in the bosom of his own family, a happiness of which he had hitherto had but a small share. No degree of en- joyment, however, or of earthly felicity, could wean him from the desire of pro- moting the Kefoi-mation in his native country ; to this he continued to look forward with unabated eagerness, and only waited for more favourable times to gratify this ruling passion of his life. When he had been about two years in Geneva, the long-cherished wishes of our reformer to exercise his ministry in his native land, seemed about to be realized. Two persons, citizens of Edinburgh, the one named James Syme, the other James Barron, arrived in Geneva with a letter signed by the earl of Glen- cairn, the lords Lorn and Erskine, and lord James Stewart, an illegimate son of James V., and afterwards earl of Murray, inviting him to return to Scotland. KNOX. 331 Knox immediately obeyed the call, and had proceeded as far as Dieppe on his way to Scotland, when he received letters from the latter country containing the most discouraging accounts of the state of the kingdom and of the protestant in- terest there. Grieved and disappointed beyond expression, he again returned to Geneva, where he remained for another year. During this period he assisted in making a new translation of the Bible into English, and also published his " Letter to the Queen Regent," his " Appellation and Exhortation," and " The first Blast of the Trumpet against the monstrous Regiment of Women." Mat- ters having at length taken a more favourable turn in Scotland, the protestant lords sent a second invitation to Knox to join them, accompanied by the grati- fying intelligence that the queen-regent had promised them her countenance and protection. He placed little reliance on these promises, but he readily obeyed the call of his friends to return to his native country. He sailed from Dieppe on the 22nd of April, and arrived safely in Leith on the 2nd of May, 1551). The distrust which Knox entertained of the good faith of the queen-regent was not without sufficient cause. By the time he arrived, that artful but able princess, conceiving that she had no longer any occasion for assistance from the protestants, not only gave them to understand that they had nothing more to hope from her, but openly avowed her determination to siii)- press the Refoi-mation by every means in her power, and to employ force for that purpose if it should be found necessary. In this spirit she authorized arciibishop Hamilton to summon the reformed preachers before him in St Andrews to answer for their conduct, giving him at the same time, a similar assurance of protection and support with that which she had a short while before given to the protestants, A threat, however, having been conveyed to her that the preachers would not go unattended to the im- pending trial, she deemed it prudent to prorogue it until she should be in a better state of preparation, and accordingly wrote to the primate to delay any further proceedings in the matter for the time. On the faith of receiving- as- sistance from France, which had united with Spain for the extirpation of hei'esy, she soon after resumed the process against the protestant preachers, and sum- moned them to stand trial at Stirling. Thither Knox, though he had been pco- claimed an outlaw and a rebel, by virtue of the sentence formerly pronounced against Iiim, determined to repair to assist his brethren in their defence, and to share the dangers to which they might be exposed. The artifice of the queen-regent, however, deprived him of the opportunity of carrying this generous resolution into effect. Tlie preachers in their progress to Stirling, were attended by large bodies of people, who had determined to abide by them during the impending trial. Unwilling, however, to give the queen-regent any otl'ence by approaching her in such numbers, tliey halted at I'erlh, and sent Erskine of Dun before them to Stirling to assure her that they meditated no violence nor entertained any but the most peaceable intentions. Not reconciled, liowever, by this representation to the approach of so great a nndtitude, she had recourse to dissimulation to prevent their coming nearer. She informed Erskine, that she would stop the trial, if he would prevail upon his brethren to desist from their journey. Unsuspicious of the «leception she intended to practise, Erskine was persuaded to write to the assembled protes- tants, requesting them to proceed no further, and intimating that he was author- ized by the queen to promise them that no trial of their preachers should take place. Rejoiced by these very welcome and very unexpected overtures, they in- stantly complied with the regent's request, and the greater part of them returned to tlieir homes. When the appointed day of trial came, however, the sunmionses of the preachers were called in court by the express orders of the queen. They 332 KNOX. were outlawed for non-appearance, and all persons prohibited under pain of re- bellion from harbouring or assisting them. When this infamous proceeding took place, Knox was with the rest of his brethren at Perth, where he had preached a sermon against idolatry and the celebration of mass, on the very day on which intelligence reached that place of what had occurred at Stirling. On the conclusion of the sermon, a priest who was present had the impudence to uncover an altar-piece on wliich were some images, and prepared to cele- brate mass, regardless of the excited state of the public feeling, which had just been roused by the eloquence of Knox, and armed, as it were, for violence by the duplicity of the regent. Under these circumstances little was required to bring on a crisis, and that little was not long wanting. A boy having uttered some disrespectful expressions, was instantly struck by the hot-headed priest. The boy retaliated by throwing a stone, which, missing his assailant, for whom it was intended, struck the altar and broke one of the images. This fired the train. In an instant all the interior decorations of the church were torn down and destroyed, altar and images were overturned and trampled under foot ; a mob collected outside, but finding the work of destruction already completed liere, they proceeded to the monasteries, which they in a short time laid in ruins. This was the first ebullition of popular feeling connected with the Refor- mation, and Knox has been accused of having been the cause of it. If he was, he certainly was so unconsciously and innocently, for he reprobated the violence which had taken place, and in speaking of it, says it was perpeti-ated by " the rascal multitude," — language sutliciently indicative of the light in which he viewed it. The protestant lords, finding now that they had not only nothing- more to hope for from the queen, but that she was their declared enemy, deter- mined to make a vigorous ed'ort to establish the reformed religion without either her assistance or consent. They proceeded to ascertain the numbers of their friends, establisiied a correspondence with them, and united the whole by pro- curing their subscriptions to a religious covenant, copies of which they despatched for that purpose to different districts throughout the country. These thus united were distinguished by the name of The Congregation, and the noblemen who were included by that of the Lords of the Congregation. The latter, still desirous of accomplishing their purpose i-ather by the force of reasoning than by the sword, engaged Knox to meet them on a certain day at St Andrews, where they proposed he should deliver a series of sermons. On his way to St Andrews he preaciied at Anstruther and Crail, and arrived at the first named place on the 9tii of June. Here occurred a striking instance of thiit personal intrepidity for which the great i-eformer was so remarkable. The archbishop, informed of his design to preach in his cathedral, assembled an armed force, and sent word to Knox, that if he appeared in the pulpit, he would order the soldiers to fire upon him. Alarmed for his safety, Knox's friends endeavoured to dissuade him from preaching, but in vain. " He could take God to witness," he said, " that he never preached in contempt of any man, nor with the design of hurting an earthly creature ; but to delay to preach next day, unless forcibly hindered, he could not in conscience agree. As for the fear of danger that may come to me," he con^ tinued, " let no man be solicitous, for my life is in the custody of him whose glory I seek. I desire the hand nor weapon of no man to defend me." Knox accordingly appeared in the pulpit at the appointed time, and preached to a numerous assembly, without experiencing any interruption ; but although the threatened attempt upon his life was not made, he retains a full claim to all the coui-age which a contempt and defiance of that threat implies. On this occasion he pxeached for three successive days ; and such was the ef- KNOX. 333 feet of his eloquence and the influence of liis doctrine, that both the inhabitants? and the civil authorities agreed to set up the i-eformed worsliip in the town. The monasteries were demolished and the church stripped of all images and pic- tures. The example of St Andrews was soon after followed in many other parts of the kingdom. At the latter end of the month, Knox arrived witli the forces of the Congregation in Edinburgh, and on the same day on which he entered the city, he preached in St Giles's, next day in the Abbey church, and on the 7th of July, the inhabitants met in the tolbooth, and appointed him tlieir minister, there being then only one place of worship in Edinburgh, viz. St Giles's church. In this cliarge, however, he was not long permitted to remain. The forces of the regent soon after obtained possession of the city ; and, although against his own inclination, his friends prevailed upon liini to retire from the town. On leaving Edinburgh, he undertook a tour of preaching through the kingdom ; and in less than two months had gone over the greater part of it, disseminating with tiie most powerful effect the doctrines of the i-eformed reli- gion. He next retired to St Andrews, where he officiated as minister for several months ; and on the conclusion of the civil war, which the determination of the Congregation to establish, the reformed religion and the regent's efforts to sup- press it, had created, he returned to Edinburgh. In 1 560, after an arduous struggle and many vicissitudes, the faith for which Knox had fought such a " good fight," seemed to be securely established in the land. The queen-regant was dead, and by the assistance of England, an assistance which Knox had been the chief instrument in procuring, tiie arms of the forces of the Congregation were com- pletely triumphant. The accession, however, of Mary, who was known to be strongly attached to popery, to the actual government, again excited the fears of the protestants, and of no one more than Knox, who insisted that the invitation sent to France to that princess to ascend the throne of her ancestors should be accompanied by the stipulation, that she should desist from the celebration of mass ; and when the rest of tlie council urged that she ought to be allowed that liberty within her own ciiapel, he predicted that " her liberty would be their thraldom." A few days after the queen's arrival at Holyrood she sent for Knox, and taxed him with holding political opinions at once dangerous to her autiiority and the peace of her realm, and with teaching a religion dilferent from tiiat al- lowed by its princes. Knox entered at great lengtli into these subjects, defend- ing himself and his doctrines with his usual ability and b(ddness. His language, at no time very courtly, is said to Iiave been so harsh in some instances on this occasion as to drive the young queen to tears ; but whether this, if true, ought to be considered as a proof of the severity of his expressions, or of the queen's irritability of temper, is questionable, since it is probable that she may have wept without sufficient cause. The arrival of the dinner liour broke off this in- teresting interview, and Knox retired from the pi'esence with some expressions of good wishes for the queen's liappines-. Frequent conferences of a similar nature with this took place afterwards between the reformer and IMary, but witii little increase of regard on either side. On one of these occasions, when he had spoken with even more than his usual boldness, and just as he was about to retire, he overheard some of tlie queen's popish attendants say, " He is not afraid." — " Wliy should the pleasing face of a gentlewoman frighten me ?"' replied the stout reformer, turning round upon them ; " I have looked in the faeces of many angry men, anie cjuantities of gold and ivory, he suggested to tiie governor the propriety and probaljle advantages of the colony opening up a commercial intercourse with them ; and the suggestion having been approved of by the council at large, he left Sierra Leone again on the IGtIi of April, 1822, with the view of furthering such an object, accompanied by two soldiers of the 2nd West India regiment, a native of Foutah Jallow, eleven carriers, natives of the Jolof district, and a boy a native of Sego. When he set out upon this journey little was known of the Soolimas except the name ; they were said to be distant from Sierra Leone four hun«hed miles to the eastward : it afterwards appeared that Falaba, the capital, is only distant two hundred miles. They were represented as a powerful nation, rii;h in gold and ivory ; but this also turned out not to be the fact On his arrival at Toma in the country of the Timmanees, our traveller found ni. 2 n 338 LAING. that no white man had ever been there before hiui, although the town is situated only sixty miles from Sierra Leone. His appearance, as was to be expected, excited no little astonishment — one woman, in particular, stood fixed like a statue gazing on the party as they entered the town, and did not stir a muscle till the whole had passed, when she gave a loud halloo of astonishment, and then covered her moutli with both her hands. Of the Timmanees he writes in his journal very unfavourably ; he found them depraved, indolent, avaricious, and so deeply sunk in the debasement of the slave traffic, that the very mothers among them raised a clamour against him for refusing to buy their children. He further accuses them of dishonesty and gross indecency, and altogether wonders that a country so near Sierra Leone, should have gained so little by its proximity to a British settlement. From the country of the Timmanees lieutenant Laing proceeded into that of Kooranko, the first vie\v of which was much more promising — he found the first town into which he entered neat and clean, and the inhabitants bearing all the marks of active industry. It was about sunset when he approached it, and we give in his own language a description of the scene. " Some of the people," says he, " had been engaged in preparing the fields for the crops, others were penning up a few cattle, whose sleek sides denoted the richness of their pastur- ages ; the last clink of the blacksmith's hannner Avas sounding, the weaver was measuring the cloth he had woven during the day, and the guarange, a worker in leather, was tying up his neatly stained pouches, shoes, and knife-sheaths ; while the crier at the mosques, with the melancholy call of 'Allah Akbar,' summoned the decorous Moslems to their evening devotions." Such wei'e our ti'aveller's first impressions of the Koorankoes ; but their subsequent conduct did not confirm the good opinion he had formed of them. On approaching the hilly country, lieutenant Laing informs us that nothing could be more beautiful or animating than the scene presented to his view, — Avell clothed rising grounds, cultivated valleys, and meadows smiling with ver- dure ; the people in the different towns were contented and good-lmmoured, and, in general, received the stranger with very great kindness. In illustration of this lie has given us the burden of the song of one of their minstrels : — " The white man lived on the waters and ate nothing but fish, which made him so thin ; but the black men will give hira cows and sheep to eat, and milk to drink, and then he will grow fat." At Komato, the last town of the Koorankoes, on his route, our traveller found a messenger from the king of Soolimana, with horses and carriages to convey him to Falaba, the capital of that nation. Crossing the Rokelle river, about a hundred yards broad, by ropes of twigs suspended from the branches of two immerse trees, (a suspension bridge called by the natives Nyankata,) he proceeded to that city ; and having been joined by the king's son at the last town upon this side of it, he entered Falaba under a salute of musketry from 2000 men, who were drawn up in the centre of the town to receive him. Not long after reaching Falaba, lieutenant, now captain Laing (for about this time he was promoted,) was seized with a fever which brought on delirium for several days. While in this state he was cupped by one of the Soolima doctors, and that so effectually as to satisfy him that it was the means of saving his life. The operation differed in no respect from ours, except that the skin was scari- fied by a razor, and the cup was a small calabash gourd. Our traveller enters, in his journal, into a long detail of the habits and man- ners of the Soolimas, with which he had made himself fully acquainted during his three months' residence in Falaba. To give even a short abstract of this, would be inconsistent with the limits assigned to this memoir. Suflice it to say. LAING. 339 that the main object of his mission failed. The king all along promised to send back with him a company of traders ; but when the time of departure arrived, these promises ended in nought. Although within three days' journey of the source of the Niger, he Avas not permitted to visit that often sought spot, and deep was the grief which the loss of sucli an opportunity cost him ; by measuring, lio\vever, the heigiit of the source of the Rokelle, wliich he found to be 1411 feet, and by taking into account the height of the mountains in the distance, which gave rise to the Niger, he calculated, (as he himself thouglit,) with a tolera- ble degree of accuracy, tiiat that river which has had so much importance assigned to it, has an elevation at its source of from 1500 to 1600 feet above the level of the Atlantic. We cannot resist quoting here the testimony of an eminent Mxiter in the Kdinburgh Journal of Natural and Geographical Science, (June, 1830,) more especially as the measurements of captain Laing have been rather ligiitly s])oken of in the Quarterly Review, (we believe by IMr Barrov,- :) " 3Iajor Laing," says the Edinburgh Journalist, " assigned the position and the elevation above the sea of I\Iount Loma, from whence the Niger takes its origin : and lie first traced on the map the first part of its course towards the north for an extent of about twenty-five leagues." On the 1 7th of September our traveller quitted Falaba, accompanied by numbers of the natives, who escorted liim to a considerable distance, the last to leave him was the king himself. Of his " adieu " the captain speaks in the most affecting terms. On returning, the route of the party was nearly the same as that by which tiiey set out. Tlie conclusion of the journey we give, in tiie traveller's own words, in a note.' Before our traveller's return, hostilities had commenced between the British government and the king of the Ashantees — the consequence Avas, that no sooner had he tasted the comforts of a British settlement, than he was ordered to join his regiment on the Gold coast without delay. Having transmitted details to his friend, captain Sabine in London, of the geograpiiical determinations of the latitude, longitude, and elevation of the places he had lately visited, he hastened to obey the order lie had received. On Iiis arrival on the (iold coast he was employed in the organization and command of a very considerable native force, designed to be auxiliary to a small Britisli detachment which was then expected from Britain. During the greater part of the year 1823, this native force was stationed on the frontier of the Fantee and Ashantee countries, and was fre- quently engaged, and always successfully, with detachments of the Ashantee army. On one of these occasions tlie enemy was completely beaten, and the fame of the victory spread over the whole coasts ; in so mucii, and so ctfectually, that Sir Charles M'Carthy received the allegiance of most of the Fantee tribes. On another occasion captain Laing made two gallant and suc(;essful attacks on a larger division of the enemy ; and entering into the territories of the king of Aju- a VI 1 " We left Ma Koota at six A. I\I., !md after a f;itiguing march of twent.v-five miles over file Timmauee path, we readied liokon at four P. ]\1 ., wliere I njoined mj- part\, wliich had arrived a few hours before. At six I eiiibarktd in a canoe, wilh an iiiteiilion of pushing direct for Sierra Leone, but perceiving a small boat at anciior oil the small town of IMaherre, 1 went on shore, and in a fuw miiiiitis liad the gr.ilification of shaking iiands with isenor Aliavilia, Forlugueso comniiss;iiy judge at Sierni Leone, and captain Stepney of the iind West India regiment, who, on hearing of my approach had gone so far on tlie way to meet me. About midnight we wire joined by ]\Ir Kmnelh Maeauley, when we all embarked in his barge; and proceeding down the river, arrived at Tomlw to breakfast, where 1 ilepriied myself of the decoration of mi/ /ace, now of seveti months' growth, and by the help of some bor- rowed garments etrtcted an alteration in my appearance wliicii was very requisite. Leaving Touibj after breakfast, we proceeded down the Rokelle, on a fine calm mornin)?, and at two P. M. I had the satisfaction of being welcomed by my friends at Sierni Leone, so many of whom, so much esteemed and so highly valued, are now no more.'' 340 LAING. macon, wlio was suspected to be friendly to the Ashaiitees, he compelled that prince to place his troops under the British command. On the fall of Sir Charles M'Carthy, which took place in 1824, lieutenant- colonel Chisholm, on whom the command of the Gold coast devolved, sent the subject of our memoir to England, to acquaint government more fully than could otherwise be done, of the state of the country, and the circumstances of tlie war. He arrived in England in August, and immediately afterwards obtained a leave of absence to visit Scotland for the recovery of his health, which had been seriously aiTected by so many months of constant and extreme exposure in Africa. In Scotland, however, he did not continue long. In October he re- turned to London, and an opportunity having unexpectedly presented itself to him, of proceeding under lord Bathurst's auspices, in the discovery of the course and termination of tlie Niger, an opportunity which he had long and anxiously desired, he gladly embraced it. It being arranged, that he should accompany the caravan from Tripoli to Timbuctoo, in the ensuing summer, it became neces- sary that he should depart early in the year from that father land, which, alas! lie was destined never to revisit. Our traveller, now promoted to a majority, left London for Tripoli, in the month of February, 1825. Wliile in the latter city he had occasion to have frequent intercourse with the British consul, Mr Warrington ; a close intimacy was formed between them, and the bond -.vas strengthened by the major's mar- rying Emma Maria, the daughter of the consul. This event was celebrated on the i4th of July, 1825 ; and two days after the marriage the major proceeded ou his pilgrimage to 'limbuctoo. He left Tripoli in company with the sheik Babani, whom he afterwards dis- <;ovcred to be no less a personage than the governor of Ghadamis. The sheik engaged to conduct him to Timbuctoo in ten weeks ; the wife and the family of Babani resided there. The travellers proceeded with their kqffila by the route of Beneoleed, the passage by the Gharan mountains being rendered un- safe, in consequence of the turbulence of a rebellious chief in that district. On the 21st of August the party reached Shate, and on the 13th of September, after a tedious and circuitous journey of nearly a thousand miles, tliey arrived at Ghadamis. Already had the major experienced much to vex and aijnoy him ; his barometer had been broken ; his hygrometers had been rendered use- less by evaporation ; the tubes of most of his thermometers had been snapt by ihe warping of the ivory ; his glasses had been dimmed by the friction of the sand; his chronometer had stopped (in all likelihood from the insinuation of sandy particles) ; and in addition to this lengthened list of mishaps, his rifle stock had been broken by the tread of an elephant. Our traveller left Ghadamis, where he was treated with the utmost kindness and hospitality, on the 27th of October ; and on the 3rd of December he arrived at Ensala, a town on the eastern frontier of the province of Tuat, belonging to the Tuaric, and said to be thirty-five days' journey from Timbuctoo. Here as in Ghadamis, he experienced the kindest reception, and he did all he could to repay it, by administering of his medicines to the diseased. From Ensala he wrote the last letter to his relations in Scotland, which they ever ■received from him. As it is a document of great interest, and, in some passages, highly characteristic of the writer, we shall present a considerable extract: '« Ensala in Tuat, December 8, 1825. * * * * " I arrived here in the afternoon of the 2iid inshint ; and the curiosity which my appearance among these people lias excited, is not yet nearly allayed, iiisomueli that I am beset duiiiig LAING, 341 nearly Ihe whole day with myriads of wondering spectators, who flock to the house which 1 inhabit, and stare at me with about as much curiosity as }ou would at the great lioness in Exeter Cliange, which whelped three young lions, and condescended to suckle tliem herself The natives of this place are of the tribe adled INIusticarab, and live under no law or control. They do not employ themselves either in trade or cultivation, but, like a set of outlaws, roam about the desert, robbing and plundering kaffilas wherever they can fall in with them. There has been murderous work among them this year, — more than half a dozen fights of one kind or another, and between two and three hundred slain. I shall quit them, please God, in seven or eight days more, as I accompany a large kafiila, which proceeds on the 15th instant towards Timbuctoo, from which I am now only thirty days' journey. Every thing appears to favour me, and to bid fair for a speedy and successful termination to my arduous enterprise. I am already possessed of much curious and valuable information, and feel confident that 1 sliall realize the most sanguine expectations of my numerous friends. I shall do more than lias ever been done before, and shall show mjself to be what I have ever con- sidered mjself, a man of enterprise and genius. My father used often to accuse me of want of common sense ; but he little thought that J gloried in the accusation. 'Tis true, I never possessed any, nor ever shall. At a very early age, I fell, in with an obsei-vation of Helve- tius, which pleased me much, and chimed in witli my \va)' of tliinking to the tenth part of a second. ' A man of common sense is a man in whose character indolence predominates : he is not endowed with activity of soul, which, in high stations, leads great minds to discover new springs by which they may set tlie world in motion, or to sow the seeds, from the growth of which they are enabled to produce future events.' I admit that common sense is more necessary for conducting the petty affairs of life than genius or enterprise ; but the man who soars into the regions of speculation ^louid never be hampered by it. Had I been gifted with that quality which the bulk of mankind consider so inestimable, I might now liave been a jolly subaltern on haif-paj-, or perhaps an orthodox preacher in some country kirk, in lieu of dictating this letter to )ou from the arid regions of central Africa. This is a long rhapsody, but you must just bear with it patiently, as it is not every day that jou can hear from me. " 1 liope }ou have written to my dearest Emma, the most amiable girl that God ever created. She is, indeed, such a being as 1 had formed in my mind's eyes but had never before seen, and has just as much common sense as has fallen to the lot of your most worthy elder brotiier." * * * He quitted Ensala on tlie 10th of January, 182(5, and on tlie 2(!th of the same montli entered on llie cheerless, flat, and sandy desert of TenezarolF. Hitherto neither his enthusiasm nor his lieallii had failed him ; the people had all been friendly and kind to him, the elements only liad been his foes ; but in the desert he was to enter on a diHerent course of experience, and bitter assuredly it was. The Tuarics attacked, and plundered, and most cruelly mangled him. The following- letter, written by himself, and addressed to his fatiier-in-law, discloses the amount of authentic information concernin" this barbarous outrage. Hlad Sidi Mahomed, May \Qtli, 1826. l\Iy Dear Consul, — I drop )ou a line only by an uncertain conveviuice, to acquaint jou that I am recovering from my severe wounds far beyond any calculation that the most siinguine expectation could have formed •, and that to-morrow, pkase God, 1 have this place for Timbuctoo, which 1 hope to reach on the 18tli. I have suttcred much, but the deUil must be resei-ved till another period, when I shall " a tale unfold " of treachery and woe that will surprise you. Some im- putation is attachable to the old sheik (liabani) ; but as he is now no more, I shall not aause Jiini ; ho died very suddenly about a month since. 342 LAING. When I write from Timbuctoo, I shall detail precisely how 1 was betrayed, and nearly murdered in my sleep. In the mean time, I shall acquaint you with the number and nature of my wounds, in all amounting to twenty-four; eighteen of which are exceedingly severe. I have five sabre cuts on the crown of tlie head, and three on the left temple ; all fractures, from which much bone has come away. One on my left cheek, which fractured the jaw- bone, and Las divided the ear, forming a very unsightly wound. One over tJie right temple, and a dreadful gash on the back of the neck, which slightly scratched the windpipe,* &c. I am, nevertheless, as already 1 have said, doing well, and hope yet to retuin to England wth much important geographical information. The map Indeed requires much correction, and please God, I shall yet do much in addition to what I have already done towards putting it right. It would appear from this letter, that the major intended on the day after he wrote it, to set out for Timbuctoo. The intention, however, was frustrated. The illness, and subsequent death of Sidi Mahomed Mooktar, the marabout and sheik of the place, together with a severe attack of fever in his own person, detained him for t>vo months longer. By this distemper he lost also his favourite servant Jack, to whom he was much attached. We can easily enter into his feelings when, writing again on Uie 1st of July to his father-in-law, he concludes the epistle by saying, " I am now the only surviving member of the mission." On the ISth of August he arrived at Timbuctoo, and from the following let- ter, which he left behind him there, which was afterwards forwarded to Tripoli by the nephew of Eabani, and is the last that any of his relations ever re- ceived from him, we learn only enough to deepen our regret that he should liave perished in the hour of success, and that his valuable papers should have been lost to the world. *<■ Timbuctoo, \ September 21, 1826. " ]My Dear Consul : — A very short epistle must serve to apprise you, as well as my dearest Emma, of my arrival at and departure from the great capital of central Africa; the former of wliich events took place on the 18th ultimo, the latter, please God, will take place at an early hour to-morrow morning. I have abandoned all thoughts of retracing my steps to Tripoli, and came here with an intention of proceeding to Jenne by water; but this intention has been entirely upset, and my situation in Timbuctoo rendered exceedingly unsafe by the unfriendly dispositions of the Foulahs of Massina, who have tliis year upset the dominion of the Tuaric, and made themselves patrons of Timbuctoo, and whose sultan, Belle, has ex- pressed his hostility to me in no unequivocal terms, in a letter which Al iSaidi Boubokar, the sheik of this town received from him a few days after my arrival. He has now got intelli. gence of my arrival in Timbuctoo, and as a party of Foulahs are hourly expected, Al Saidi Boubokar, who is an excellent good man, and who trembles for my safet} , has stJ-ongly urged my immediate departure. And I am sorry to say, that the notice has been so short, and I have so much to do previous to going away, that this is the only communication I shall for the present be able to make. My destination is Sego, whither I hope to arrive in fifiteu days ; but I regret to say that the road is a vile one, and my perils are not yet at an end ; but my trust is God, who has hitherto bonie me up amidst the severest trials, and protected me amidst the numefbus dangers to which I have been exposed. " I have no time to give you any account of Timbuctoo, but shall briefly state, that in every respect, except in size, (which does not exceed four miles in circumference), it has complete- ly met my expectations. Kabra is only five miles distant, and is a neat tovni situated on tlie margin of the river. I have been busiij employed during my stay, searching the records in the town, which are abundant, and in acquiring information of every kind ; nor is it with * It should be the S/nne. t In tliis letter the major iilwa^s spells tlie name of the capital Tinbvctn. LAING. 343 eny common degi'ee of satisfaction that I say my perseverance has been amply rewarded. I am now convinced that my hypothesis concerning the termination of the Niger is correct. " ]\Iay God bless jou all ! I shall write you fully from Scgo, as also my lord Bathui-st, and I rather apprehend that both letters will reach you at one time, as none of tlie Gliadamis merchants leave Timbuctoo for two months to come. Again may God bless j ou all ! My dear Emma must excuse my writing. I have begun a hundred letters to her, but have been unable to get through one. She is ever uppermost in my thoughts, and I look forward with delight to the hour of our meeting, which, please God, is now at no great distance." The following absti-act of the testimony of Bungola the niajox-'s servant, when examined by the British consul, gives the catastrophe of this melancholy story : When asked if he had been with the major at Mooktar's, he answered. Yes. Did you accompany him from thence to Timbuctoo ? Yes. How was he received at Timbuctoo ? Well. How long did he remain at Timbuctoo ? About two months. Did you leave Timbuctoo with major Laing ? Yes. Who went with jou ? A koffle of Arabs. In what direction did you go ? The sun was on my right cheek. Did you know where jou were going ? To Sansanding. Did JOU see any water, and were \ou molested ? We saw no water, nor were we molested till the third day, when the Arabs of the country attacked and killed my master. Was any one killed beside jour master ? I was wounded, but cannot say if any were killed. Were you sleeping near jour master ? Yes. How many wounds had jour master ? I cannot saj-, they were all with swojds, and in the morning I saw the head'had been cut o£F. Did the person who had charge of jour master commit the murder ? Sheik Boura- boushi, who accompanied the reis, killed him. What did the sheik then do? He went on to his country; an Arab look me back to Tim- buctoo. What property had jour master when he was killed ? Two camels ; one carried the pro- vision, the other carried my master and his bags. Where were jour master's papers? In his bag. Were the papers brought back to Timbuctoo ? I don't know. Thus perished, a few days after the 2lst of September, 182G, by the hand of an assassin, one of the most determined, enthusiastic, and tlioroughly accom- plished of those daring spirits who have periled their lives in the cause of Africas to be elevated to tl:e 382 LEIGHTOX. primacy. He had the recommendation also of other persons to fill the different vacant sees ; but Leighton was the last man he would ever have thought of point- ing out, as he shrunk from approaching a character so upright and virtuous, in every way superior to himself. But Sir Elisha Leighton, already referred to by Burnet, having an eye to his own interests, considered that by having a brother, over whom he had already gained some ascendancy, high in the church, much might be expected. As he affected to be strongly attached to popery to please the duke of York, whose secretary he was, he vainly thought, as his relative was on many occasions known to evince a great respect for some good men con- nected with the church of Rome, that in time he might be gained over to pro- mote and adopt that faith. Blinded by selfish ambition, he was incapable of jHM'ceiving, like the illustrious Burnet, that of all men Leighton was the least likely to favour a religion which he characterized as " earthly, sensual, and devilish, with nothing in it of the wisdom tliat was from above, and was pure and peaceable." Indeed it was a matter of considerable difficulty, as it will ap- pear, to prevail upon him to join the episcopalians. The king, though pleased at finding Sharpe and others subservient in all points to his wishes, still he knew their characters must stand degraded in the eyes of the people, as they were men neither of piety nor moderation, and that it would be, above all, necessary to strengthen their ranks by those who stood high and worthy in the eyes of the world ; for this reason he personally solicited Leighton to accept of a mitre. The earl of Lauderdale, and his brother, and some of the most moderate and respectable of his countrymen, exerted themselves to gain the same result, but all seemed of no avail. Leighton still refused, as he evidently mistrusted the men to whom the government of the new church was to be intrusted, and he could not but see the methods they resorted to were violent and repugnant to the princ^iples and desires of the people of Scotland. " It was at last mentioned to him, that the king had issued positive orders for him to yield, unless in fact he regarded the episcopal office as unwarrantable." To that exti'eme he would not go, as he all along was favourable to that order, if divested of its useless pomp. He was at length persuaded that a regard to the interests of the church rendered it his duty to accept it ; but in order to demonstrate to the Morld that avarice was not his principle, he made choice of Dumblane, as of small extent and little revenue. He was consecrated with Sharpe and two other Scottish bishops at the Abbey churcli of Westminster, which occasion was celebrated with great feasting and pomp. Leighton could not help remarking, " that it had not such an ap- jiearance of seriousness or piety as became the new modelling of a church." It is with considerable hesitation we are obliged to remark, that in this instance the character of Leighton exhibits another melancholy proof of the want of stability and perfection in the nature of man. Admitting that his reason for joining the episcopal church, was with the virtuous intention of softening- down the asperities of two rival systems, which had long struggled for ascend- ancy ; yet the time was unseasonable, when selfish and bad men were endeav- ouring, by all crooked means, to build their fortunes on the ruin, of their country and their shameful apostasy. He was induced, too, to lend the weight of his virtuous name in countenancing the acts of a reckless and unprincipled tyrant, who was bent on the total subversion of those forms of religion connected with liis earliest associations, and in whose defence his father had almost suffered martyrdom. That he was free from all interested motives every one must admit ; and in justice to the character of one so pious, we siiall give the following ex- tract of a letter written by him in reference to his appointment : — <* There is in LEIGHTON. 383 this preferment something that would allow of reconciling the devout on dif- ferent sides, and of enlarging those good souls you meet with from their little fetters, though possibly with little success. Yet the design is commendable, pardonable at least. However, one comfort I have, that in what is pressed on me, there is the least of my own choice ; yea, on the contrary, the strongest aversion that I ever had to any thing in all my life ; the difilculty, in short, lies in a necessity of either owning a scruple, which 1 have not, or the rudest dis- obedience to the authority that may be. The truth is, I am yet importuning and struggling for a liberation, and look upward for it; but whatever be the is- sue, I look beyond it and this weary, weary, wretched world, through which the hand I have resigned to, I trust, will lead me into the path of his own choos- ing : and, so I may please him, I am satisfied. I hope if ever we meet, you shall find me in the love of solitude and a devout life." ' He lost no time in endeavouring to persuade Sharpe to join with him in some moderate plan, founded on archbishop Usher's scheme, for uniting the presby- terians and episcopalians, but to his astonishment he found him unwilling even to talk on the subject. He and the other newly made bishops seemed only anxious to get possession of their sees. This circumstance was discouraging to Leighton, who soon perceived that such men were not designed by providence to build up the church. Soon after their consecration, the Scottish bishops went down to Scotland in one coach ; but when they came to jMorpeth, finding tliat they intended to be received at Edinburgh with pomp and ostentation, Leighton parted company from them, and arrived at the capital some days before them. He would not even have the title of lord given to him by his friends, and was not easy when others used it in addressing him. Leighton soon perceived with deep regret, that the government was resolved to enforce conformity on the presbyterians by severe means. He laboured all in his power to show the im- policy of such proceedings, and in the session of parliament in April, 16G2, when the ministers to whon» the oath of allegiance and supremacy was ten- dered, consented to take it \\ith an explanation, which they presented to tlie liouse, he pleaded strenuously that it might be accepted, and insisted that tiie conditions asked by the presbyterians were just, and should in reason be granted. Sharpe, with his usual vehemence answered, tliat it was below the dig- nity of government to make acts to satisfy the scruples of peevish men, and " that it ill became those who had imposed their covenant on all people, with- out any explication, and had forced all to take it, now to expect such extraordi- nary favours." — " For that very reason," replied Leighton, " it ought to be done, that all people may see the ditlerence between the mild proceedings of the government and their rivals ; and that it ill became the very same persons who had complained of that, now to practise it themselves, for thus, it may be said, tlie world goes mad at times." But the voice of violence prevailed; the Scottish bishops were entitled to a seat in parliament on their consecration, and were one and all invited to avail themselves of the privilege. Leighton was the only one that declined the honour. He retired to his see, and resolved never to appear in parliament unless the interests of religion were called in question, or by his presence he might assist it. In his own diocese he set a briglii example to his brethren, by practising the moderation which he recommended. He studied to make his clergymen a well-informed, serious, and useful body of men ; and he even tolerated tlie preaching of non-conforming ministers in districts Avhere tlie people were particularly attached to them. He continued a private and ascetic course of life, and gave all his income, except the little he expended on his own peison, to the poor. I3y these means he become generally 1 Pearson ut supra, p, 43. 384 LEIGHTON. beloved through his diocese, and even softened down the feelings of those uho were most adverse to episcopacy. In the year 1665, the proceedings in Scotland by the ecclesiastical high com- mission were so severe and illegal, that Leighton was prevailed on to go to oourt, and lay before the king a true account of them. On this occasion he as- sured his majesty that the measures which Sharpe and other members of the court pursued, were so violent, " that he could not concur in planting of the Christian religion itself in such a manner, much less a form of government. He there- fore entreated leave to quit his bishopric, and to retire, for he thought he was in some sort accessary to the violence of others." The king seemed to be deeply affected with the complaints of the worthy prelate, and issued an order in coun- cil for discontinuing the ecclesiastical commission, and less rigorous measures were promised to be pursued with respect to Scotland ; but the king would not hear of Leighton's resigning his see. Deceived by the specious conduct of Charles on this interview, and perhaps aware that if he retired he would lose all authority, or ciiance of standing between the people of Scotland and persecu- tion, he returned to his see, and resumed the charge of his sacred functions. It is almost needless to add, that no reliance could be placed on the promise of protection from so deceitful a monarch. Blatters in Scotland were diiven to such dreadful extremities by the base and tyrannical authorities, that it was im- possible to bear up much longer against them. In 1667, Leighton was once more prevailed on to go to London, whci'e he laid before the king the outrageous conduct of the former administrations of church affairs, and implored him to adopt more moderate councils ; in particu- lar, he proposed a comprehension of the presbyterian party, by altering the terms of the laws a little, and by such abatements as might preserve the whole for the future, by giving a little for the present. This audience had the good effect of inducing the king to write a letter to the privy council, ordering them to indulge such of the presbyterians as were moderate and loyal, so far as to suffer them to serve in vacant churches ; though they did not submit to the ec- clesiastical establishment. This small indulgence enraged the episcopal party in Scotland ; they thought it illegal and fatal to the interests of the church, and directed an address to be drawn up expressive of their sentiments, though they did not venture to present it. A copy, however, was privately sent up to the court, and drew down the king's resentment on the head of the archbishop of Glasgow. When parliament assembled, an act was obtained, a clause of which declared the settling of all things relating to the external government of the church, to be the right of the crown. This clause, Leighton informed Burnet, was surreptitiously inserted after the draught and form of the act was agreed upon, and was generally thought to be the work of Lauderdale. Such a fearful stretch of tlie prerogative alarmed both episco- palians and presbyterians ; the former said it assimilated the king to a pope ; the latter, that it placed him in Christ's stead. The archbishop of Glasgow thought it prudent immediately to resign his see, as he dreaded the coming- storm, and knew he had no other chance of escaping its vengeance. Lauder- dale and lord Tweeddale fixed upon Leighton, and immediately oflered to have him promoted to that high dignity; but, though eagerly solicited by these noble lords, he respectfully declined the appointment. The king at last seni for him, and promised that he should be backed by the assistance of the court, in his endeavours to accomplish his long-meditated and favourite scheme of a comprehension of the presbyterians. He was at length persuaded to comply, and in ,1670, he, without removing from Dumblane, undertook the administra- tion of the see of Glasgow ; nor was he at all willing to be consecrated arch- LEIGHTON. 385 bishop until .1 year after. The plan of accommodation between the episcopalians and pi-esbyterians, the particulars of which may be seen in Burnet's history, uas, by the king's directions, limited to certarn instructions, by which Lauder- dale was empowered to embody the concessions that were to be offered into laws. Encouraged even by this support, Leightoii had frequent conferences with some of the most eminent presbyterian ministers, but in vain ; lie found it impossible to gain them over even to the most moderate form of episcopacy. It is evident the presbyterians mistrusted the overture in question, and looked upon it as a snare to lull their vigilance ; and they had already too many deceitful examples in a former reign to think that the friends of prelacy were now either more humane or honourable. The result of these negotiations grieved Leighton very much, while they delighted Sharpe and all of the same party, to whom every thing like liberality or concession in favour of peace and religion were alike un- known or despised. They even went so far as to hint, in very intelligible terms, that under the mask of modei'ation, he was secretly undermining their cause. Being thus unhappily situated, and despairing of being able to carry his great de- signs of healing the divisions and reforming the abuses in the church, he resolved to relinquish his see, and retire into seclusion. He said " that his work seemed to be at an end, and that he had no more to do, unless he had a mind to please himself with the lazy enjoying of a good revenue." His friend, Dr Burnet, en- deavoured all in his power to make him give up this idea, but all to no purpose ; the good man was resolute. He repaired to London, and after much difficulty obtained the king's reluctant consent to his resignation, on condition that he would remain in office for another year. The court thought it possible in the interval that he might be gained over to remain and assist a cause fast falling into hatred and contempt, by his pious and venerable name. He returned " much pleased with what he had obtained, and said to Dr Burnet upon it, that there was now but one uneasy stage between him and rest, and he would wrestle through it the best he could." He continued to perform his duties with the same zeal as before, and at the end of the year 1G73, he hastened to London, and tendered his resignation, and was succeeded by the former possessor of the see, Dr Alexander Burnet.^ After residing for some time in the college of Edinburgh, where he had long been principal, amongst a set of select friends, ' The following paper has been left by Leighton for the purpose of explaining his reasons for resigning the see of Glasgow. It has been preserved in the univci-sity of Edinburgh, over which he so long and ably piesided. "Whatsoever others may judge, they that know what past before my engaging in this charge, will not (I belitve,) impute my retreat from it from levitie or unfixeditess of mind, considering how often I declared before hand, baith by word !iiid write, the gre;it suspicion 1 had that my continuance in it would be very short ; neither is it from any sudden passion or sulleu discontent that 1 have now resigned it ; nor do 1 know any cause imaginable for any such thing, but the true reasons of m) retiring are plainly and briefly these : " 1. The Sense I have of the dreadful weight of whatsoever charge of souls, and all kinds 01 spiritual inspection over people; but much more over ministers; and withall of my own ex- treme unworthiness and unfitness for so high a station in the clunrh ; and there is an episco- pal act tliat is alx)ve all the rest most formidable to me — the ordaining of ministers. "2. The continuing and deeply increasing divisions and contentions, and many other dis- orders of the church, and the little or no appearance of their cure for our time, and the little hope, amidst those contentions and disorders, of doing any thing in this station to promote tin; great design of religion in the hearts and lives of men, which were the only wortliy reasons of continuing in it, though it were with much pains and reluctjnice. " 3. The earnest desire 1 have long had of a retired and pri\-ate life, which is now much increased by sicklyness and old age drawing on, and the sufficient experience I have of the folly and vanity of the world. " To add any farther discoui-se, a large apologie in this matter were to no purpose ; but in- stead of removing other mistakes and misconstructions, would be apt to expose me to one more, for it would look like too much valuing either of myself or of the world s opinion, both of which I think 1 have so much reason to despise." — Bower's Historj/ of the University of Edinburgh, vol. i. App. No. 6. uu 3 c 336 LEIGHTON. equally fli&tinguished for their learning and piety, lie removed to Broadhurst, an estate in Sussex belonging to his sister Mrs Lightwater, for whom he enter- tained the strongest affection. Here he lived ten years, occupied in study, meditation, and prayer, and doing all the good in his power. He distri- buted through the hands of other persons whatever lie possessed beyond the means of subsistence, — so unostentatious was he in his charity. He was in every instance through life most generous in pecuniai-y matters. When principal of the college of Edinburgh he presented the city with £150, the income of which was destined for the support of a student in philosophy. The college of Glas- gow is also indebted to him for two bursaries, or for a sum the interest of which is to be appropriated to support two students. On the hospital of St Nicholas, Glasgow, he bestowed £I50, the proceeds of which were to be given to two poor men of good character. Three such persons are now enjoying the benefit of that sum, which yields £4, 10s. annually to each of them. This forme but a short specimen of the good works he performed during his long and valuable life. Five years after he had retired from the business of active life, he was sur- prised and alarmed at receiving from his sovereign the following epistle : WinSsor, July 16, 1679. Mv Lord, — I am now resolved to try what clemency can prevail upon such in Scotland as will not conform to the government of the church there ; for effecting of which design I de- sire you may go down to Scotland with your first conveniency, and take all possible pains for per- suading all you can of both opinions to as much mutual correspondence and concord as may be ; and send me from time to time, characters of both men and things. In order to this design I shall send you a preceipt for two hundred pounds sterling upon my exchet^uer, till you resolve how to serve me in a stated employment. Your loving friend, CHARLES R. For the Bishop of Vumblane. Leighton was now in his sixty-eighth year ; and however flattering such a notice might be to a mind of an inferior grade, to his, which was exclusively bent on preparing for a heavenly kingdom, it gave only pain and apprehension. What were the vain disputes of angi-y men to him? besides, he could have little or no hopes in succeeding in the mission. He was saved, however, the trouble of trying the experiment, as the duke of Monmouth, with whom the humane plan originated, fell into discredit, and the ofi'er made to Leighton was never again re- newed. This was the only serious interruption he met with in his retirement. Burnet saw him two years after, and says, " I was amazed to see him at above seventy look so fresh and well, that age seemed as it were to stand still with him. His hair was still black, and all his motions were lively ; he had the same quickness of thought, and strength of memory ; but above all, the same heat and life of devotion that I had ever seen him in." — " When I took notice to him," continues this celebrated writer, " upon my first seeing him, how well he looked, he told me he was very near his end for all that, and his work and journey were now ahnost done. This at the time made no great impression on me. He was next day taken with an oppression, and it seemed with cold and with stitches, which was indeed a pleurisy." This disease he foretold was doomed to be his last; he grew so suddenly ill, that speech and sense almost immedi- ately left him; and in twelve hours after the first attack, he breathed his last, without a struggle, in the arms of his long-revered and faithful friend Dr Burnet, on the 26th June, 1684, at the advanced age of seventy-four. The place in which his pure spirit departed from its earthly tenement was an inn in Warwick Lane, London ; and it is somewhat singular tliat he often used to say, that if he had LESLIE. 387 tlie power to choose a place to breathe his last in, it woultl be an inn. " It looked," he said, " like a pilgrira's going home, to whom tiiis world was all an inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion of it." He thought, too, that the distress of friends and relations at the time of death were apt to with- draw the mind from serious thoughts ; to keep it from being wholly directed to God. He bequeathed his books to the cathedral of Dumblane, and the residue of his limited fortune to his sister, Mrs Lightwater, and her son, to be distributed as they thought fit to charitable purposes. After the character already given of him by his friend Burnet, it would be superfluous to add any thing here."* His body was interred in the burial ground of 'Horstead Heynes, in the parish which for ten years had been honoured by his residence. A simple inscription marks the spot where his remains are laid.* The family of his sister is now extinct, and the estate is in the hands of another. His brother Sir Elisha, it may be here stated, died a few months before him, and was interred in the same place. LESLIE, Alexander, the celebrated military leader of the covenanters, during the civil wars of Charles L, created lord Balgonie, and afterwards earl of Leven, was the son of captain (ieorge Leslie of Balgonie, by his wife Anne, a daughter of Stewart of Ballechin. Of the place of his birth, or the extent of his education, little can be said with certainty. Spalding says, he was born in Balveny, which Gordon of Straloch affirms was never possessed by the Leslies, and, of course, according to him, could not be the place of his birth. This, he supposes to have been TuUich, which lies over against Balveny, on the east side of the water of Fiddich ; or, perhaps, Kininvie, which lies a mile to the north of TuUich, on the same water of Fiddich. Gordon adds, that he " was a natural son of Kininvie's, and that his mother, during her pregnancy, could eat nothing but wheat bread, and drink nothing but wine, which Kininvie allowed her to be provided with, although she was nothing but a common servant." There is, however, much reason to suppose that this account of his birth is only a cavalier fiction. Educated for the military profession, Leslie very early in life obtained a captain's commission in the regiment of Horatio lord de Vere, then employed in Holland as auxiliaries to the Dutch in fighting for their liberties against the overwhelming power of Spain. In this service lie acquitted himself witii singular bravery, and obtained the reputation of a skilful ofiicer. He afterwards, along with nuny tiiousands of his countrymen, passed into the service of Sweden, under GusLavus Adolphus, by whom, after many heroic achievements, he was promoted to the rank of field-marshal witii the approbation of the wliole army. In the year 1G28, he defended Slralsund, which was besieged by the Avhole force of the Imperialists, at that time masters of all Germany, that fortress excepted. Here he acquitted himself willi the utmost bravery and skill. The plague had already broken out in tiie city, and the «)Utworks were in a most deplo- rable condition ; yet he compelled count Wallenstein, with a formidable army and flushed with victory, to raise the siege, after liaving sustained a severe loss. The citizens of Stralsund were so sensible of the services of the field-marshal, on ' The wriliiigs of archbishop Lcigliloii are fliiis iiuinioratcd in Watt's Bil)h'otlieca Britan- nica : — " Surinoiis, London, IKI'^, tlo. I'n.lccliuiics Tlicologira), ItiyS, 4lo. A Practiiail Commentary on the two first chaiilcrs of tliu First Epistle of tit I'uter, York, 1093, 2 vols. 4to; also in 2 vols. 8vo,— an admirable Commeiil;iry which has been often reprinted. Three Posthumous Tracts; viz. llulcs for a Holy Life; a Sermon; and a Catechism, Lon- don, 1708, 12mo." The best edition of Leighton's whole works is tlmt by Jarmtnt in 6 vols. 8vo, 1S06. * Depositum Robert! Leightounii, Archiepia"oi>i Gla^guensis, apud Scotus, qui obiit xxv. die Junii anno Dni. 1G84, ;uUtis suaj 71. 3S8 LESLIE. this occasion, that they made him a handsome present, and had medals struck to perpetuate their gratitude and the honour of their deliverer. In the year 1635, he had charters granted to him, his wife, and son, of the barony of Balgonie, and other lands in the counties of Fife, Berwick, and Roxburgh. He was at this time serving in Lower Saxony. In the year 1639, when the cove- nanters were preparing to resist their sovereign in the field, Leslie returned from Sweden, where he had continued after the death of Gustavus in the service of Christina. " This Leslie," says Spalding, " having conquest from nought wealth and honour, resolved to come home to his native country of Scotland and settle himself beside his chief, the earl of Rothes, as he did indeed, and bought fair lands in Fife ; but the earl foreseeing the troubles, whereof himself was one of the principal beginners, took hold of this Leslie, who was both wise and stout, acquainted him with the plot, and had his advice for the furtherance thereof to his power." It was a fortunate circumstance for the covenanters, that the oppressions to which they had been subjected, and the persecutions that were evidently pre- paring for them, were well known on the continent, where thousands of their fellow countrymen had been shedding their blood in the defence of the religion and liberties of their fellow protestants, and excited the deepest interest in their favour. Leslie had undoubtedly been invited home, and he bi-ought a number of his countrymen along with him, who, having periled their lives for the same cause among foreigners, could not reasonably be considered as indifferent to its success among their own countrymen. Half a century had, for the first time since it was a nation, passed over Scotland without any thing like general war- fare. The people had, in a great measure, become unaccustomed to its liardships and its dangers, and the chieftains, such as had been abroad excepted, were unacquainted with its practice, and ignorant of its details. This defect, by the return of so many who had been in the wars of Gustavus, was amply supplied. Leslie was, by the committee of estates, appointed to the chief command ; — many of his fellow adventurers of less celebrity, yet well acquainted with military details and the equipment of an army, were dispersed throughout the country, where they were employed in training the militia, which in those days compre- hended every man that was able to bear arms, from the age of sixteen to sixty. By these means, together with a manifesto by the Tables (committees of the four estates assembled at Edinburgh), entitled, " State of the Question, and Reasons for Defensive War," which was circulated so as to meet the eye or the ear of every individual in the nation, — the covenanters were in a state of preparation greatly superior to the king, though he had been jueditating hostilities long before he declared them. Though now an old man, little in stature, and deformed in pei'son, Leslie was possessed of ceaseless activity, as well as consum- mate skill ; and in both he was powerfully seconded by the zeal of the people in general. Early apprized of the intentions of Charles, he so managed matters as to render them entirely nugatory. It was the intention of the latter, while he advanced with ins main force upon his ancient kingdom by the eastern marches, to enter it previously, or at least simultaneously, on the western side, with a body of Highlanders and Irish, and by the Firth of Forth with a strong division of his English army, under his commissioner the duke of Hamilton. To meet this formidable array, every thing that lay within tlie compass of their limited means, was prepared by the covenanters. Military conunitlees were appointed for every county, who were to see to the assembling and training of the militia generally, and to forward to the army such levies and such supplies, as might be from time to time demanded. Smiths were every \vhere put in requisition for tiie fiibri(*-ition of muskets, carbines, pole-axes, LESLIE. 389 Lochaber axes, and lialbevts ; magazines to supply the troops were also provided ; and to call them together wiien occasion should require, beacons were provided, and placed in every shire. Arms to the amount of thirty thousand stand were provided from Holland, in addition to those of home manufacture, and a foundry for cannon was established in the Potter Row, at that time one of the suburbs, now a street of Edinburgh. Leith, the port of the capital, was, however, still defenceless ; but, awai-e that the duke of Hamilton proposed to land there with hostile intentions, it Avas immediately resolved to put the place in a posture of defence. 'The plan of a new fort, the old defences of the town being in ruins, was laid down by Sir Alexander Hamilton, who acted as engineer to Leslie ; and several thousands came sponta- neously forward to assist in its erection. Noblemen, gentlemen, and citizens ; men, women, and children; even ladies of quality, claimed the privilege of as- sisting in forwarding the good work, and in less than a week it was linished, and the security of Edinburgh was considered complete. Along the coast of Fife, too, every town was surrounded with batteries mounted with cannon, <;nr. ried on shore from the ships ; and with the exception of Inchkeith and Inch- colm, which were somehow neglected, tiiere was not a resting plac'e in the Firlh for an enemy, till he should win it at tiie point of the pike. In the mean time, the duke of Hamilton lying in Yarmouth roads, was com- manded to sail for the Forth, and by all or any means to " create an awful di- version." His first sail was no sooner discovered as a speck in the distant horizon, than the beacons were in a blaze from the one extremity of the country to the other, and ere he approached the shores of Leith they were lined by up- wards of twenty thousand intrepid defenders, among whoni was his own mother, mounted on horseback at the head of her vassals, with a pair of pistols in the holsters before her, with which she declared she would shoot her son with her own hand the moment he set a hostile foot on shore. Hamilton now found that, he could do nothing. The troops on board his deet did not exceed live tliou- sand men, all raw young peasants, miserably sea-sick, and many of them labouring under the small pox. Instead of attempting hostile operations, he landed his men upon the islands of Inchkeith and Inchcolm, which served him for hospitals, and contented himself with sending into the town couinul some more of Charles's proclamations, which were promised to be laid before the States, who were expected to meet in a few days. This, as the measure of their obedience, Hamilton was for the time obliged to accepL Uf this (circumstance, with the strength which they mustered, he failed not to acquaint liis master, ad- vising him at the same time to negotiate. — We are not detailing the history of the war, but the part performed in it by an individual, or we should have stated that Argyle had been sent to the west, where he had seized upon the castle of Brodick in Arran, where the earl of Antrim was to have first headed his Irish bands, in consequence of which they were for a time unable to come forward. The castle of Dumbarton had also been seized by a master-stroke of poli<;y, as that of Edinburgh now was by the same in war. In the afternoon of the twenty-third of ]\Iarch, Leslie himself, with a few companies wliich he had been, according to his usual custom, training in the outer court-yard of Holyrood house, some of which he secretly disposed in closes at the head of the Castle Hill, approached to the exterior gate of the castle, where he called a parley with the captain or governor, demanding to be admitted. This being refused, he seemed to retire from the gate, when a petard which he liad hung against it, burst and laid it open. The inner gate was instantly assailed with axes, an«l scalins ladders were applied to the wall, by which the covenanters gained immediate admission; while the gar- rison, panic-struck with the sudden explosion and the vigour of the attack, sur- 390 LESLIE. rendei-ed without offering any resistance. Tlie oastles of Dallieitli, Dou.olas, and Strathaven in Clydesdale, and, in short, all the castles of the kingdom, with the exception of that of Carlaverock, were seized in the same manner. Huntly, who was making dispositions in the north to side with Charles, had also in the interim heen kidnapped by Montrose, so that he had actually not the shadow of a party in the whole kingdom. Towards the end of May, the king beginning to move from York, where he had fixed his head-quarters, towards the north, the army under ^Leslie was ordered southward to meet him. The final muster of the army, previous to the march, took place on the Links of Leith, on the 20th of May, 1639, when from twelve to sixteen thousand men made their appearance, well armed in the German fashion, and commanded by native of- ficers whom they respected as their natural superiors, or by their own coun- trymen celebrated for their hardihood, and that experience in military afl^airs which they had acquired abroad. With the exception of one German ti'um- peter, there was not a foreigner among them : all were Scotsmen, brought im- mediately from the hearths and the altars which it was the object of the war to defend. The private men were, for the most part, ploughmen from the western counties ; stout rustics whose bodies were rendered muscular by healthy exer- cise, and whose minds were exalted by the purest feelings of patriotism and reli- gion. It was on this day that they were properly constituted an army, by hav- ing the articles of war read to them. These had been drawn out by Leslie witii the advice of the Tables, after the model of those of Gustavus Adolphus, and a printed copy of them was delivered to every individual soldier. The general himself, at the same time, took an oath to the Estates, acknowledging himself in all things liable both to civil and ecclesiastical censure. Leslie had by this time acquired not only the respect and confidence, but the love of the whole com- munity, by the judgment with which all his measures were taken, and the zeal he displayed in the cause ; a zeal, the sincerity of which was sufficiently attested by the fame of his exploits in Germany, and by the scars which he bore on his person in consequence of these exploits. He was deformed, old, and mean in his appearance ; but the consummate skill which he displayed, and the piety of his deportment, rendered him, according to Baillie, who was along with him, a more popular and respected general than Scotland haa ever enjoyed in the most warlike and beloved of her kings. With the van of this army, which was but a small part of the military array of Scotland at this time, Leslie marched for the borders on the 21st of May, the main body following him in order. He was abundantly supplied on his march, and at every successive stage found that his numbers were increased, and his stock of provisions be- coming more ample. 'Ihe first night he reached Haddington, the second Dun- bar, and the third Dunglass, a strong epistle at the east end of Lanunermoor, Avhere he halted and threw up some intrenchments. Charles, in the mean time, advanced to the borders, indulging in the most perfect assurance of driving the Scottish insurgents before him. Learning from his spies, however, that they were within a day's march of him, and so well mai-shalled that the result of a contest would be at best doubtful, he ordered a trumpet to be sent with letters from himself to the Scottish army, conveying overtures of a friendly nature, but forbidding them to approach within ten miles of his camp, and on this demons- tration of their temporal obedience, promising that all their just supplications should be granted. Finding them disposed to an amicable agreement, Charles advanced his camp to the Birks, on the banks of the Tweed, and directed tiie earl of Holland, his general of horse, to proceed with thirteen troops of cavalry, three thousand foot, and a number of field-pieces, to drive some regiments of the covenanters which had been stationed at Kelso and Jedburgh under colonel LESLIE. 391 Robert Munro, for the protection of llie borders, from their station, as beiiio^ within the limits stipulated with the noblemen who commanded the main body. Proceeding, in the execution of his order, to Dunse, the first town that lay in his way within the Scottish border, the earl of Holland found it totally deserted of its inhabitants, except a very few, who heard him read a proclamation, de- claring the whole Scottish nation, especially all who were in arms and did not immediately lay them down, traitors. Proceeding westward to Kelso, and hav- ing reached a height overlooking the town, he found the Scottish troops in the act of being drawn out to receive him. Startled at their appearance, Holland sent forward a trumpeter, to command them to retire according to the promise of their leaders. His messenger was met by a stern demand whose trumpeter he was, and on answering that he was lord Holland's, was told that it would be well for him to be gone. Displeased with this reception of his missionary, his lordship ordered a retreat, and the Scottish soldiers were with difficulty re- strained from pursuing them to their camp. What share Leslie had in the pro- posed submission to Charles is not known ; but he no sooner heard of the above affair than he broke up his encampment at Dunglass, and set forward to Dunse, where he ordered Munro to join him. Finding here an excellent position commanding both roads to Edinburgh, he formed his camp on the Law behind the town, where he could see the royal camp at Birks, on the other side of the Tweed. This movement was made without the knowledge of the English, whose camp Leslie, had he been left to himself, Avould most probably have surprised and secured, with all that was in it. Charles himself, walking out after an alarm from the Scottish army, was the first to descry their encampment on Dunse Law, and he rightly estimated their number to be from sixteen to eighteen thousand men ; they were soon, however, increased to twenty-four thousand by the reinforcements that hastened up to them on the report of the English incursions at Dunse and Kelso ; and never was an army led to the field better appointed, or composed of better materials. " It would have done your heart good," said an eye-witness, " to have cast your eyes athwart our brave and rich hills as oft as I did, with great contentment and joy. Our hill wasgarnislied on the top toward the south and east with our mounted cannon, well near to forty, great and small. Our regiment lay on the sides; the crowners [superior offi«;er8 of regiments] lay in canvass lodges, large and wide ; their captains about them in lesser ones ; the soldiers about all in huts of timber, covered witli divot or straw. Over every c^iptain's lent door waved the flag of liis company, blue, with the arms of Scotland wrought in gold, with the inscription * For Christ's Crown and Covenant.' Leslie himself lay in the castle of Dunse, at the bottom of the hill, whence he issued regularly every night, rode round the camp, and saw the watches regularly set." Throughout the whole army there was tlie most perfect harmony of opinion, both as to matters of civil and ecclesiastical polity ; and there was a fervour in the cause they had undertaken, that burned with an equal flame in the bosom of the peasant and the peer, 'i he latter took their full share in all the fatigues of the cnmp ; slept like the common soldiers, in their boots and cloaks on the bare ground; and in tlicir intercourse with their inferiors, used the language of artection and friendship, rather than that of com- mand. Ministers of the gospel attended the camp in great numbers, carrying arms like the rest, and many of them attended by little parties of their friends and dependents. There were sermons morning and evening in various places of the camp, to which the soldiers were called by beat of drum ; and while tlie day was devoted to the practice of military exercises, its rise and its fall were celebrated in every tent with the singing of psalms, reading the Scriptures, and prayer. The general tone of the army was ardent, full of devotion to God and 392 LESLIE. of the hope of success against the enemy. " They felt," says Baillie, " the fa- vour of God shining upon them, and a sweet, meek, humble, yet strong and vehement feeling leading them along. For myself, I never found my mind in better temper than it was all that time since I came from home, for I was as a man who had taken my leave from the world, and was resolved to die in that service without return." While they were thus strengthened in spirit, the body was equally well attended to. The regular pay of the common men was six- pence a day ; fourpence purchased a leg of lamb, and all of them were served with vvheateii bread ; a luxury which it is probable many of them never enjoyed either before or after. Leslie kept open table daily at Dunse castle for the no- bility and for strangers, besides a side table for gentlemen waiters ; and as there had been an extraordinary crop the preceding year, and the people were zeal- ous to offer supplies, the camp abounded with all tlie necessaries of life. An amicable arrangement, however, having been entered into between Charles and the covenanters, peace was proclaimed in both camps on the I81I1 of June, 1639. In the month of April, IG40, it was found necessary by the covenanters to re- assemble their army, and Leslie was again appointed general ; but from various causes it was the beginning of August before the general armament could be collected at Dunse, where, in the early part of that month it was reviewed'by the general. It amounted to twenty-three thousand foot, three thousand horse, and a train of heavy artillery, besides some light cannon, formed of tin and leather corded round, capable of sustaining twelve discharges each. This was a species of artillery used by (iustavus Adolphus, and which the Scottish general had adopted in imitation of his master. This army was composed of the same men who had last year occupied Dunse Law. The horse were chiefly composed of respectable citizens and country gentlemen, lightly armed ; some of them having lances, and generally mounted on the small, but active horses of the country. Their attire and accoutrements were the same as in the preced- ing year, including the broad Lowland blue bonnet. Their march over the border was, however, delayed for some weeks for the want of money and neces- saries. " It was found," says Mr John Livingston, who accompanied the army in the capacity of chaplain to the earl of Cassillis's regiment, " when the whole army was come up, that there was want of powder and of bread, the biscuit being spoiled, and of cloth to be huts to the soldiers. This produced some fear that the expedition might be delayed for that year. One day when the com- mittee of estates and general officers, and some ministers, were met in the castle of Dunse, and were at prayer and consulting what to do, an officer of the guard comes and knocks rudely at the door of the room where we were, and told thei'e was treachery discovered ; for he, going to a big cellar in the bottom of the house, seeking for some other thing, had found a great many barrels of gun-pow- der, which he apprehended was intended to blow us all up. After search, it was found that the powder had been laid in there the year before, when the army had departed from Dunse Law, and had been forgotten. Therefore, hav- ing found powder, the earls of Rothes and Loudon, Mr Alexander Henderson, and Mr Archibald Johnston were sent to Edinburgh, and within a few daj? brought as much meal and cloth to the soldiers by the gift of well affected peo- ple there, as sufficed the whole army. With the same readiness these people had parted with their cloth and their meal, others parted with their plate, and to such an extent was this carried, that for many years afterwards, not even a silver spoon was to be met with in the best houses." — " It was very refreshful," adds Livingston, *' to remark that after we came to a quarter at night, there was nothing to be heard almost through the whole army but singing of psalms, prayer, and reading of the Scriptures by the soldiers in their several tents ; and I LESLIE. 393 was informed there was much more the year hei'ore, when tlie army lay at Dunse Law. And, indeed, in all our meetings and consultings, both within doors and in the fields, always the nearer the beginning there was so much the more dependence upon God, and more tenderness in worship and walking ; but through process of time, we still declined more and more." General Leslie crossed the Tweed on the 20th of August with his army, in three divisions ; the College of Justice' troop of horse, consisting of one hundred and sixty gentlemen, under Sir Thomas Hope, riding on the right wing in order to break the stream for the foot ; all of A\hom got safely through but one man, who was drowned. In their march, the ofiicers of the Scot- tish army were greatly embarrassed by a fear of offending the English nation, with which they had no quarrel, and with which they knew well they were not able to contend. With all the difficulties imposed on him by his situation, how- ever, Leslie continued his march till tlie -2Sth, when he completely de- feated the king's troops, who had been sent to defend the fords at New- burn. This success put him in possession of Newcastle, Tynemouth, Shields, and Durham, together with several large magazines of provisions, and again re- duced Charles to the last extremity ; a crisis which ultimately produced the treaty of liippon, afterwards transferred to London, The king had now, how- ever, the parliament of England upon his hands, and was less occupied Avith Scottish affairs than formerly. Ten months elapsed before the English parliament saw fit to allow the treaty to be concluded, the Scottish army being all the time quartered in Newcastle, that they might be at hand to assist, in case of matters coming to extremities between the king and the lords of St Stephen's chapel. Embarrassed and controlled by his parliament, Charles now attempted to con- ciliate the Scots by conceding to them all their demands ; hoping thereby to engage them to take part with him against the former. AVith this view he came himself to Scotland in the month of August, 1641, when, passing through the Scottish army at Newcastle, he was received with the utmost respect, and entertained by the general, who was created lord Balgonie, and on the 11th of October, 1641, earl of Leven by patent to him and his heirs whatsoever. In tlie following year the earl was sent over to Ireland, in command of the forces raised for suppressing the rebellion there. In the next year he was recalled to fake the «;ommand of the forces sent into England to the assistance of the parliament, in pursuance of the Solemn League and Covenant. Me commanded the left of tlie centre division of the parliamentary forces at the battle of Mars- ton moor, and was driven out of the field, though the honour of his own name and that of his country was gallantly 8UsUiine supplies, and to hem him in till the arrival of additional forces should render his capture easy, and his escape impossible. The Scottish troops in advance of the army were already within a mile of Tadcaster, when about nine o'clock of ihe morn- ing of the 22nd of July, 1644, the alarm was given that pi-ince Rupert's horse, to the number of five thousand, were pressing on the rear of the confederates, while the main body of his army occupied the moor which they had just left. The march was instantly countermanded, and preparations for an engagement made with the least possible delay. The prince, however, having full possession of the moor, they were compelled to draw up part of their troops in an adjoining field of rye, their right bearing upon the town of IMarston, and their line ex- tending about a mile and a half fronting tlie njoor. By three o'clock in the af- ternoon, both armies, amounting to 25,000 men each, were formed in order of battle. The royal army was conmianded on the right by prince Rupert in per- son ; on the left by Sir Charles Lucas, assisted by colonel Harvey ; while the centre was led by generals (joring, Porter, and Tilyard. The marquis of New- castle was also in the action, but the place he occupied has not been ascertained. The parliamentary army was composed, on the right, of horse, partly Scottish, commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax ; on the left, likewise horse, by the earl of Manchester, and Cromwell his lieutenant-general, assisted by major-general David Leslie, and in the centre by lord Fairfax and the earl of Leven. The battle commenced with a discharge of great guns, which did little execution on either side. A ditch, separating the combatants, rendered the assault a matter of difficulty and peculiar danger, and both stood for some minutes in breathless expectation waiting the signal for attack. On that signal being made, iMan- chester's foot and the Scots of the main body in a running march cleared the ditch, and advanced boldly to the charge, accompanied by the horse, who also rushed forward to the attack. The liery Rupert with his squadrons instantly ad- vanced upon the no less fiery, but far more cautious Cromwell. The conflict was terrible ; every individual being under the eye of his leader, exerted him- self as if the fate of the day had been intrusted to his single arm. The troops of Cromwell, ho^vever, supported by IJavid Leslie and tlie Scottish hoi-se, charged through the very flower of the cavaliers, putting them completely to flight, while Manchester's foot, keeping pace with them, cut down and dispersed the infantry. The marquis of Newcastle's regiment alone disdained to fly, and their dead bodies, distinguished by their white uniforms, covered the ground they had occupied when alive. On the other extremity of the line Sir Thomas Fairfax and colonel Lambert, with a few troops of horse, charged through the royal army, and met their own victorious left wing. The remainder, however, were «;omplete]y defeated, and even Fairfax's victorious brigade ^vas thrown into con- fusion by some new raised regiments wheeling back upon it, and treading down in their flight the Scottish reserve under the earl of Leven, \\ho, driven from the field, fled to Tadcaster, carrying with them the news of a total defeat. Crom- well, Leslie, and Manchester, perceiving the rout of their friends, returned to the field as the victors were about to seize upon the spoil. The fate of the day was now reversed. The royal troops, occupying the field of rye, and the parliamer- tary forces the moor. Kach, however, dcterr.iined, if possible, to preserve tiie 396 LESLIE. advantage they had gained, and both once more joined battle. The struggle now, however, though bloody, was short and decisive. The shattered remains oi' the royal army sought shelter in York ; leaving all their baggage, artillery, military stores, and above a hundred stand of colours in the hands of the con- querors. Upwards of three thousand men were left dead on the field ; and upwards of fifteen hundred prisoners — more than a hundred of whom were principal officers — fell into the hands of the conquerors. This victory was the death-blow to the affairs of the king, and greatly added to the reputation of Cromwell and Leslie, between whom the whole merit of the affair was divided ; the independents claiming the largest share for Ci'omwell, and the presbyterians for Leslie. The combined army immediately laid siege to York, which surren- dered by capitulation in a few days. The confederates, after the capture of York, separated ; the Scottish troops marching northward to meet tlie earl of Cal- lander, whom they joined before Newcastle in the month of August. General Baillie, in the mean time, had been recalled from l-^ngland to com- mand the raw levies that were raised for the defence of the country ; but he was accompanied in his progress by a committee of the estates, who controlled all his movements ; and contrary to the opinion of the general himself, commanded liim to leave a strong position and expose himself with an army of inexperienced soldiers to certain destruction on the fatal field of Kilsyth, August 15th, 1645. The issue of this battle left the kingdom entirely in the power of Montrose and his army. In this emergency, David Leslie, with the whole of the cavalry at- tached to the Scottish army, then lying before Hereford, was recalled. Arriving at Berwick, whither the Estates had tied from the plague, which was then rag- ing in Edinburgh, Leslie took measures for cutting off' the retreat of Montrose to the north, amongst whose mountains he had formerly found refuge. For this purpose he proceeded as far as (iladsmuir, about three miles to the west of Had- dington, where he learned that Jlontrose was lying secure in Ettrick forest, near Selkirk. Leslie was no sooner apprized of this, than he wheeled to the left, and marched southward by the vale of Gala. The darkness of the night concealed his motions, and the first notice Montrose had of his approach was by his scouts informing him that Leslie was within half a mile of him. A sanguinary encounter soon followed ; but Montrose's troops, though they fought with a desperation peculiar to their character, were completely broken and driven from the field, leaving one thousand dead bodies behind them. Their leader, however, had the good fortune to escape, as did also the marquis of Douglas, with the lords Crawford, Sir Robert Spotiswood, A. Leslie, William RoUock, Erskine, P'leming, and Napier. The lords Hartfield, Drum- mond, and Ogilvy, Philip Nisbet, William MuiTay, brother to lord Tulli- bardlne,Ogilvy of Innerquharity, Nathaniel (cordon, Andrew Guthrie, son to the bishop of Moray, and two Irish colonels, O'Kean and Lauchlin, were made prisoners, and reserved for trial in the castles of Edinbui'gh and Stirling. Up- wards of a hundred Irish soldiers taken, were, in conformity to a decree of the legislatures of both kingdoms, shot upon the field. Leslie now proceeded with his victorious army to Lothian, and from thence, accompanied by the committee of Estates, to Glasgow, where, in conjunction witli the committee of the church, they deliberated on the measures necessary for completing the reduction of Montrose, and securing the internal peace of the kingdom. Some of the prisoners taken at I'hiliphaugh were here tried and ex- ecuted, and as a mark of gratitude, the committee, out of a fine they imposed on the marquis of Douglas, voted to Leslie fifty tliousand merks, with a gold chain, and to Middleton, who was second in conuuand, thirty thousand. I\ion- trcse, restless and intriguing, in tiie mean tiu'c wandcrotl from place to place, LESLIE. 397 endeavouring to raise a new army. Leslie now returned to his station in the Scottish army, under the earl of Leven, whom he joined in the siege of Newark upon Trent. It was here that Charles, baffled in all his projects, came into the Scottish camp a flying fugitive, on the 5th day of May, 1646. He was received with great respect, the commander-in-chief, the earl of Leven, presenting him with his sword upon his knee. On the return of the Scottish army it was re- duced to about six thousand men, of whom Leslie was declared lieutenant- general, with a pension of one thousand pounds a month over and above his pay as colonel of the Perthshire horse. With this force Leslie proceeded to the north, where the Gordons still kept up a party for tlie king. These men, wlio had been so formidable to Argyle, Hurry, and Baillie, with the parliamentary com- missioners, scarcely made the shadow of resistance to Leslie. He seized upon all their principal strengths, and sent their leaders prisoners to Edinbuj-gh. The lives of the inhabitants, a(;cording to his instructions, he uniformly spared; but upon the Irish auxiliaries he as uniformly did military execution. Having gone over the northern districts, and secured every castle belonging to the dis- affected, he left Middleton to garrison the country, and with instructions to seize upon the person of Huntly, who had taken refuge among the hills. These ar- rangements made, he passed into the peninsula of Kintyre, to look after Mon- trose's colleague, Alaster M'Coll. This chieftain, after making some ineffectual resistance, took to his boats with his followers, and sought safety among th;> western isles, leaving his castle of Dunavei-tie to the care of a body of Irish and Highlanders, to the number of three hundred men. As this force, how- ever, was wholly inadequate to the defence of the fort, it was taken, and the garrison put to the sword. Alaster himself was pursued by Leslie, with eighty soldiers, to his castle in Isla. He had, however, fled to Ireland, leaving two hundred men under the command of Colkittoch, his father, to defend his castio of Duiievey. This strongliold Leslie also reduced, the garrison having sur- rendered, on condition of having their lives spared, but to be sent to serve under Henry Sinclair, a lieutenant-colonel in the French service. Colkittoch being- given to the Campbells, was hanged. Having gone over the other islands with tlie same success, Leslie reUirned to the lo^v country in the month of September, where he was honoured with the approbation of his party for the fidelity, dili- gence, and success with which he had executed his commission. The king, in tiie mean time, iiad been delivered up to the English parliament, and passelly of the cimrch and state committee, which had been the plague of the army during all the previous troubles, had undoubtedly cut 398 LESLEY. off his whole army. Yielding to the importunities of this committee, he rashly descended from his commanding position, and was signally defeated on the 3rd of September, 1650. Upwards of three thousand men were left dead on the field, ten thousand were taken prisoners, two hundred colours, fifteen thousand stand of arms, with all the baggage and artillery, fell into the hands of the English. Leslie, with the wreck of his army, retired upon Stirling, and again made such dispositions for defending that important line of defence as Cromwell found himself unable to force. Here he was joined by Charles, who himself assumed the command of the army, having the duke of Hamilton and Leslie for his lieutenants. In this capacity Leslie accompanied the king to Worcester, where, on the 3rd of September, 1(551, Cromwell completely routed the royal army. Leslie was intercepted in his retreat through Yorkshire, and committed to the tower of London, where he remained till the Restoration in the year 1660. By Cromwell's act of grace he was fined in four thousand pounds in the year 1654. After the Restoration he was created, in consideration of his services and sufl^erings in the royal cause, lord Newark, by patent dated the 31st of Au- gust, 1661, to him and the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten, with a pension of five hundred pounds per annum. His lordship, however, does not seem to have been without enemies, as the following letter from the king, as- suring him of iiis unabated confidence, sufficiently implies : — " Although we have on all occasions, both abroad and since our happy return, declared ourself fully satisfied with your conduct and loyalty in our service, and although in consider- ation of the same, we have given you the title and honour of a lord ; yet, seeing we are told, that malice and slander do not give over to persecute you, we have thought fit to give you this further testimony, and to declare under our hand, that while you ^vas the lieutenant-general of our army, you did, both in England and Scotland, behave yourself with as much conduct, resolution, and honesty as was possible or could be expected from a person in that trust : and as we told you, so we again repeat it, that if we liad occasion to levy an army fit for ourself to connnand, we would not fail to give you an employment in it fit for your quality." His lordship died in the year 1682. He married Jean, daughter of Sir John York, by whom he had a son, David, who succeeded him as lord Newark, and three daughters ; the eldest of whom, Elizabeth, was married lo Archibald Kennedy of Cullean, and was mother to Susanna, the celebrated coun- tess of Eglintoune. LESLEY, Geokge, of Monymusk, a capuchin friar, of the earlier part of the seventeenth century. The introduction of this individual, as an illustrious Scotsman, and the manner in which we intend to treat the events of his life, require some explanation. John Benedict Rinuccini, archbishop of Fermo, published in Italian the life and marvelous adventures of his friend (ieorge Les- ley, a Scotsman of rank, who had been miraculously converted to the Roman catholic faith.' A work on so pleasing a subject did not remain long in obscur- ity ; it was translated into French, in which language it was published at Rouen in 1660, at Paris in 1682, and again at Rouen in 1700. In 1673 it was dra- matized at Rome, and the decent inhabitants of Monymusk, a remote hamlet in Aberdeenshii-e, were clothed in names suited for an audience in the imperial city ; such as Lurcanio a Calvinist clergyman, the parish minister of Monymusk; For- cina, his servant ; Theophilus, an old cottager ; besides an angel, Fluto, and Beel- zebub, in the form of Calvin.'^ The work, even in its primitive form, is a pure ' Not hy tiie intervention of the pope, he was received into the order, and became a capuchin, and assuming the ecclesiastical name of Archangel, he preached with edification. Twenty years had elapsed since his departure from Scotland, when his mother, hearing that he had disgraced his family by joining a fraternity of beggars, at first (according to the charitable presumption of the archbishop), wished to assassinate him, but preferred the more humane alternative of sending her second son, the baron of Torry, to convert him. It would be tedious to tell how the brothers met, and how the reverse of what was expected took place, by the baron joining the true faith, and both forming a project for the conversion of tlieir mother, and the other inhabitants of Scotland. The baron was the first to return to Scotland, and accident soon revealed the change in his faith ; in the mean time Lesley was chosen capuchin preacher at the court of Mary of Medicis, queen regent of France, and on the institution of the college de propa- ganda fide, by Gregory XV., he was appointed papal emissary to Scotland, to procure the restoration of that lost land to the true faith, at the same time ac- cepting the additional situation of interpreter to the Spanish ambassador in Eng- land. Lesley, or as his biographer at this period commonly terms him. Arch- angel, wrote a letter to his mothei", which with much discretion he delivered hiniseltl He was received with considerable cold politeness, and entertained in the castle ; where, however, he could not eat his dinner in peace from being compelled to sit beside a heretic clergyman, who pocketed 300 crowns annually for teaching the doctrines of damnation, to wliom, says his author, whenever he turned his eyes, he thought the banquet assumed the aspect of a funeral meal. Ardiangel kept his secret about six days, when a remark which he made con- nected with a cliange in the establislnuent, proved him not to be a stranger, and he was compelled to make himself known. The rejoicings at this event can scarcaly be described in words. The old lady received thousands of visits of congratulation, tiie fame of the event reached even to Aberdeen (about twenty- five miles), fires of rejoicing were lighted up on the castle of Monymusk,* and the inhabitants of the towii^ discharged culverins and let off sky-rockets. He com- menced a vigorous discharge of the duties of his mission ; he led the people to an adjoining mountain, where he had not been preaching half a quarter of an hour, when the people shuddered, changed colour, and knelt at his feet, — he converted 4000 to the true faith in eight months. He now naturally turned his eyes towards the salvation of iiis mother, to which he was resolved to make his way through the heretical priest. The reverend gentleman at first declined any discussion, but he was at length compelled to come to issue. He was asked what was the denomination of his peculiar faith, and with much simplicity an- * The castle of Monymusk is a neat old Flemish building, which would make a rather dimi- mUive modern mansion. ' The hamlet of Monymusk contains about 50 inhabitants. LESLEY. 401 swered, it was the chiirdi of Geneva. Archangel then asked if the church of Geneva was ever mentioned in Scripture ? this was a home thrust to the minister, who had seen no more in Scripture about the church of Geneva, than about the stipend of Monymusk. Like a prudent man, however, he promised to produce what was wanted if he could get time ; but after repeated delays, having failed. Archangel triumphantly pointed to the epistle to the Romans as a proof of the existence of his church ; the heretic was dismissed for incapability and error, and his mistress's faitli ceded to the victor. The conversion of the mother was followed by that of the other members of the family, and the whole establishment of ihe castle. A splendid chapel was fitted up for the celebration of the rites of the Roman catholic church, and the object of the mission made rapid progress for two years, at the end of which period, one of king James's edicts against Roman catholics compelled Archangel to retire to England, and there prosecute his mission in secrecy, having been compelled to leave his books and papers as a prey to the enemy. His mother's goods were confiscated, and she was reduced to tlie utmost misery by protestant persecution. In these circumstances her son resolved to visit her, and dressing himself as an itinerant vender of herbs, passed through the streets of iMonyniusk, vociferating 'Buy my greens:' he obtained an interview with his mother, who was reduced to the necessity of being compelled to purchase some of his conmiodity, and a scene ensued, whicli our limits will not permit us to describe. Being interrupted in his visit by the pro- testant ' inquisitors,' he was compelled to return to England, whence he was sum- moned to Italy to attend the head of his order, on the ground of some alleged malversation, the cause of which is not very lucidly explained. The plague raged in Italy during his journey, and he for some time occupied himself in at- tending the sick at Cremona. He was then appointed guardian of the convent of Mount George in the diocese of Fermo. Here he became acquainted with the archbishop who has so lucidly written his memoirs, and through a mutual miracle a second mission to Britain was concocted between them. Archangel set out ac- companied by another Scottish capuchin called Epiphanes ; their vessel was overtaken by a violent storm, and after a few amiable discussions about tossing overboard some useless hands, in order to lighten her, she was wrecked, the two capuchins being miraculously saved, along with some passengers, among whom were two English gentlemen whom Archangel converted by the following com- fortable argument : ' We hold that you cannot be saved, you admit that we may ; judge, then, which is the safest religion.' ^ He after this met a young Scots- man, who gave him tlie pleasing intelligence, that, notwithstanding the persecu- tions suHered by the true faith in Scotland, one influential family in the neigh- bourhood of the large town of JMonymusk had been spared, tiie influence of the king of France having procured the restoration of their estates, and permission to exercise their religion. This gentleman turned out to be his younger bro- ther, Edward, from whom he learned also the sad intelligence, that their mother had fallen into a fever, and died, from the dread that her son had been drowned in his voyage. After this, many adventures happened to Archangel, among which, some too curious remarks made by him on the fortifications of Newport caused his apprehension as a spy. His zeal not decreasing, he woro out the patience of the monarch, and becoming again amenable to the laws against papists, was comnmnded to quit the kingdom. On his journey southward, lie made many miraculous conversions, and particularly on the persons of noble- men in the neighbourhood of the vo years in soliciting the interfer- ence of the continental princes in behalf of his mistress, but without obtaining for her any active assistance. Even ^vith the pope, whom he requested to use his influence witli these princes, he met with no better success. \\ hile at Home, he published his history in Latin, inider the title of " De Origine, 3Ioribus, et Rebus Jestis Scotorum." This appeared in 1578: next year, having removed to France, he was made sutlragan and vicar-general of the archbishopric of Rouen, in Normandy, and while visiting the dio<;ese, was apprehended and thrown into prison, and obliged to pay three thousand pistoles, to prevent his being given up to Elizabeth. During the remainder of the reign of llenry 111., he lived un- molested ; but on the accession of the protestant Henry IV., who was the strict ally of Elizabeth, he fell again into trouble. In the course of his visitation of the diocese in 1590, he was once more thrown into prison, and forceil to purchase his freedom at the same expense as before. In 1593 he was made bishop of Constance, but being now apparently tired of life, which for many years had presented only disappointments and vexations, he soon after retired into a monastery at Gurtenburg, about two miles from Brussels, where he spent the re- mainder of his days in tranquillity. He died. May 31st, 151)6, and lies buried 400 LESLIE. in the monastery, under a monument erected to his memory by his nephew and heir, John Leslie. Bishop Leslie is generally allowed the praise of great learning and of high diplor.iatic abilities, though it is almost as generally regretted, that he did not turn them to a better use. His fidelity to a declining cause is also allowed, even by its enemies, to have been a sentiment as free from the dross of worldly or selfish views as the nu)tives of a line of public conduct ever are. The isola- tion of a catholic church dignitary in society seems favourable to the develop- ment of such sentiments ; and there are not many cases in which the principle is observed to have been more powerful than in the history of this Scottish pre- Lite. His tongue, his pen, the travel of his body, his temporal fortune, were all devoted with the most generous unreserve to the cause which he thought that of justice and true i-eligion ; and what more can any man do, to show the superior- ity of his nature to the meaner passions ? The works of bishop Leslie are as follow: 1. Defence of the honour of Mary Queen of Scotland ; with a declaration of her right, title, and interest to the crown of England; Liege, 1571, 8vo, which was inunediately suppressed. 2. Afflicti Animi Gonsolationes et Tranquilli Animi Conservatio ; Paris, 1574. 3. De Origine, Moribus, et Kebus Gestis Scotorum : Romae, 1578, 4to. 4. A Treatise showing that the Hegiment of Women is conformable to the law of (iod and Nature. 5. De iilulo et Jure Marije Scotorum Keginae, quo Anglice Suc- eessionem Jure sibi vindicat ; Rheims, 1580, 4to. 6. The History of Scotland, from the deatii of James L in I43(j, to the year 1561 ; Edinburgh, 1830, 4to. The volume last mentioned was printed from a manuscript in the possession of the earl of Leven and Melville. It is in the Scottish tongue, and forms the original of the three latter books of tiie Latin history, which differs from it in no respect except in being a little more ample. It appears to have been com- posed in the vernacular tongue, in order tiiat it might be of use to his captive mistress, who, it is to be presumed, was not so good a Latinist as her cousin Elizabeth. The reason of his presenting her with oidy this detachment of the history of her country, w.is, that the preceding part was already to be had in Bellenden's version of Boece. That work stops at the death of James I., and it would naturally occur to bishop Leslie, that a continuation to his own time was R desideratum, both to the people and to her whom he maintained to be their sovereign. He finished his work in March, 1570, and presented the unfortunate queen with the manuscript in 1571 ; but it never saw the light till the date above menti(uied, when (nie hundred copies were printed for the Bannatyne Club, with fifty additional for sale to the public. The style of the work, though it could not fail to sound rudely in the ears of a modern Englishman, is highly elegant and dignified, forming a wonderful improvement upon the rude sim- plicity of Bellenden. The worthy bishop informs us, that he stops at the be- ginning of queen Mary's reign, because the transactions subsequent to that period contain nmcii that he does not think Avould reflect honour uj»on his country : there could be few whose words were more worth listening to, respecting that important and greatly controverted part of our history. 'I'he volume alluded to contains a portrait of Leslie, representing him as a grave and venerable man, with an aquiline nose, a small beard, and a very lofty and capacious iorehead. As a spe<-inien of the Scottish which a learned prelate would then write, and a queen peruse, we may quote the bishop's char- acter of .lames V. " Tiieir was gryt dule and meane maid for him throw all the partis of his realnie, because he was a nobill prince, and Iravaillet mekill all his dayis for manitenitig of his subjectis in peace, justice, and quietnes. He was a man of LESLIK. 407 pearsonage and stature convenient, albeit niiditie and strong theirulth; of coun- tenance amiable and lufely, specially in liis communication ; his eyes graye and scliaip of sicht, that quhomsoever he did ones see and niarke, he wald peifytly knawe in all tymes thairefter ; of witt in all things quick and prompt, of a princely stomacke and heich courage in greit perillis, doubtful affiiiris and niat- eris of weichtie importance ; he had iji a nianer a divine foresicht, ibr in sic thingis as he went about to doo, he did them advisedlye, and with grit delib- eracion, to the intent that amangis all men his uitt and prudence might be noted and regardit, and alsfarre excell and pas all uthers in estait and dignitie. He- sides this, he was sober, moderate, honest, eftabill, curteous ; and so farr abhor- rit pride and arrogance, that he was ever sharpe and quick to thanie quhilk were spotted or nottit with tliat crime. He was alsua a good and suir justiciar, be the quhilke one thing he allurit to Iiim the haitis of all the people, be<;ause they lived quietlie and in rest, out of all oppressioun and niolestacioun of the nobili- tye and riche persones ; and to this severyle of his wes joinit and annexit a certane merciful pitye, quhilk he did oftymes shaw to sic as had oft'endit taking rather composicions of money nor menis lyvis. * * # # This gude and modest prince did not devoure and consunie the riches of his countrey, for by his heicii pollicye raarvellouslie riched his realme and himselfe, botli with gold and silver, all kinds of riche substance, quhairof he left greyt stoir and quanti- tie in all his palices at his departing. And so this king, living all his tyme in the favour of fortune, in heich honour, riches, and glorye, and for his nobill actis and prudent pollyces, worthye to be registrat in the buike of fame, gaif up and randerit his spreit into the hands of Allmichty God, quhair I doubt not bot he hes suir fruition of the joye that is preparit for these as sell sitt on the riclit hand ot our Salveour." Ll'SLIl', (Sib) John, professor of natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, and distinguished by his valuable writings and discoveries, was born at the kirk-town of Largo, in Fife, on the 10th of April, 1766. His father, Robert Leslie, by profession a joiner and cabinet-maker, and originally from the neighbourhood of St Andrews, was a much respected and worthy man, and seems, in point of education and general attainments, to have been superior to the majority of persons in his station at tiiat period. 'J he mother of Sir Jolin Leslie was Anne Carstairs, a native of Largo. When very young, he was sent to a woman's school in the village, but remained only a short time there. Af- terwards he was placed under a Mr 'liiomson at Lundin IMill, with whom he learned to write; and lastly he went to Leven school, and began to learn Latin ; but being a weakly boy, and unable to walk so far, he was obliged after about six weeks to give up attendance. As these were the only schools he at- tended before going to college, it is evident that his elementary acquiremenis must have been exceedingly imperfect. He received, however, while at home, some lessons in mathematics from his elder brother Alexander, and soon began to show a surprising aptitude for that branch of science, liis manners at this period of life were remarkably reserved and siiy. He seemed bent on devoting himself entirely to study, and read with peculiar avidity all the books that came within his reach, on mathematics and natural philosophy. To Latin he took a strong dislike, and could not be induced to resume the study of it till after his first year at college. His extraordinary proficiency in geometrical exercises, joined to a rxinsidera- tion of the unfavourable circumstances under which he had acqin"rcd it, brought him at an early period under the notice of professors liobison and Stewart, of the university of Kdinburgh, who were much impressed by the extraordinary powers which he displayed. It was at length resolved by his parents, that he sliould 408 LESLIE. be sent to the university of St Andrews, in order to fit himself for a learned profession, and he was accordingly entered there, as a student of mathematics, in 1779. At the first distribution of prizes, he attracted some attention by his proficiency, which was the means of introducing him to the patronage of the earl of Kinnoul, then chancellor of the university. Being now destined for the church, he went through the regular routine of instructions for that purpose. After attending for six sessions at St Andrews, he removed to Edinburgh, in company with another youth, — destined like himself to obtain a high niche in the temple of fame, and to be honoured, at the same moment with himself, more than forty years after, with a royal favour expressive of his equal merit, — James (now Sir James) Ivory. At St Andrews he had also formed an acquaintance with Dr William Thomson, the continuator of Watson's Life of Philip II., and latterly a professed author of no small note in London. At the university of Edinburgh Mr Leslie studied three years, during which time he was introduced to Dr Adam Smith, and employed by that eminent man in assisting the studies of his nephew, afterwards lord Reston. He now gave up his intention of adop- ting the clericnal profession, which he found to be in a great measure incompati- ble with the strong bent which his mind had taken towards physical studies. In 1788, he went to Virginia, as tutor to two young college friends, Messrs Randolph; and after spending more than a year in America, returned to Edin- burgh. In January 1790, he proceeded to London, carrying with him some recommendatory letters from Dr Smith ; he has been heard to mention, that one of the most pressing injunctions with which he was honoured by that illustrious philosopher, was to be sure, if the person to whom he was to pi'esent himself was an author, to read his book before approaching him, so as to be able to speak of it, if there should be a fit opportunity. His first intention was to de- liver lectures on natural philosophy; but being disappointed in his views, lie found it expedient to commence writing for periodical works, as the readiest means of obtaining subsistence. For obtaining employment of this kind, he was mainly indebted to his friend Dr William Thomson, who engaged him upon the notes of a new edition of the Bible, which he was then publishing in numbers. About three months after his arrival in London, he made an agreement with Mr Murray, the bookseller, to translate Buftbn's Natural History of Birds, which was published in 1793, in nine octavo volumes. The sum he received for it laid tiie foundation of that pecuniary independence which, unlike many other men of genius, his prudent habits fortunately enabled him early to attain. The preface to this work, which was published anonymously, is characterised by all the peculiarities of his later style ; but it also bespeaks a mind of great native vigour and lofty conceptions, strongly touched with admiration for the sublime and the grand in nature and science. During the progress of the translation, he fulfilled an engagement with the Messrs Wedgewood of Etruria in Staftbrd- shire, to superintend their studies ; he left them in 1792. In 1794, Mr Leslie spent a short time in Holland ; and, in 1796, he made the tour of Germany and Switzerland with Mr Thomas Wedgewood, whose early death he ever lamented as a loss to science and his country. About this period, he stood candidate for a chair at St Andrews, and subsequently, for that of natural philosophy at Glasgow, but without success. The fortunate candidate on the latter occasion was Dr James Brown of St Andrews, with whom Mr Leslie to the end of his life maintained a constant intimacy. In 1799, he travelled through Norway and Sweden, in company with Mr Robert Gordon, whose friendship he had acquired at St Andrews college. At what period Mr Leslie first struck into that brilliant field of inquiry where he beeame so conspicuous for his masterly experiments and striking discoveries LESLIE. 409 regarding radiant heat, and the connexion between liglit and heat, we are un- able to say. But his Differential Tliernioineter — one of the most beautiful and delicate instruments that inductive genius ever contrived as a help to experimen- tal inquiry, and which rewarded its author by its happy ministry to the success of some of his finest experiments — must have been invented before the year 1 SOO, as it was described in Nicholson's Philosophical Journal some time dur- ing that year. The results of those fine inquiries, in which he was so much aided by this exquisite instrument, were published to the world in 1804, in his celebrated " Essay on the Nature and Propagation of Heat" ' The experimental devices and remarkable discoveries which distinguish this publication, far more than atone for its great defects of method, ils very questionable theories, and its transgressions against that simplicity of style which its aspiring author rathet spurned than was unable to exemplify ; but which must be allowed to be a quality peculiarly indispensable to the communication of scientific knowledge. The work was honoured, in the following year, by the unanimous adjudication to its author, by the council of the Royal Society, of the Rumford Medals, appropri- ated to reward discoveries in that province, whose nature and limits he had so much illustrated and extended. Mr Leslie thus distinguished himself by his acquirements, when, eai-ly in 1805, in consequence of the translation of professor Playfair from the chair of mathematics to that of natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, the former became vacant, and the subject of this memoir appeared as a candidate for tiie situation. It might have been expected that, where the qualifications of the individual were so decidedly above all rivalry, there could have been no hesitation in his native country to confer upon him the honour which he sought Such there might not have been, if what is called the moderate party in the Scottish church, had not been inspired by a jealousy of his liberal principles in politics, accompanied by a desire of advancing one of their own number, to op- pose his election. The person brought forward as the rival candidate was Ur Thomas Macknight, one of the ministers of the city, and son of the venerable commentator on tiie Epistles, — a gentleman highly qualified, no doubt, not only for this, but for almost any other chair in the university ; but who, neverthe- less, could not be matched against an individual so distinguished for the benefits he had conferred on science as Mr Leslie ; and who was moreover liable to the disqualifying consideration that he was already engaged in an office which, to be well done, requires the whole man, while 3Ir Leslie stood in the light of a most useful member of society in a great measure unprovided for. The electors in this c^se were the magistrates and town-coun<',il of Edinburgh, and to them Mr Leslie was reconunende«l not only by fame, but by the warmest testimonials from Sir Joseph Banks, Mr Dempster of Dunnichen, Dr Hutton of Woolwich, Baron Masseres, and Dr IMaskelyne. In the supposition that these men were disposed to discharge their trust with fidelity, they could have no hesi- tntion in prefemng Mr Leslie ; and it is to be related to their credit, that they had no such hesitation. On learning the bent of their resolution, the ministers of Edinburgh held various private meetings, as if to indicate the more pointedly that they had a peculiar interest of tlieir own in the matter ; and it was resolved to oppose Mr Leslie's election on the grounds of what tiiey deemed an infidel note in his essay on heat; employing for tliis purpose a clause in the funda- mental charter of the college, directing the magistrates to tike the advice of the Edinburgh clergy in the election of professors. 1 Previous to this period, Mr Leslie, when not otlienvise or elsewhere engaged, used to live witli his brothere at Largo ; and tlicre were tlio experiments for his essay on neat cirriwl