SONGS AND VERSES
BY
LADY JOHN SCOTT
Printed />y George Waterston <Sr> Sens
FOR
DAVID DOUGLAS
LONDON . . SIMI'KIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT.
CAMBRIDGE . HOWES AND BOWKS.
GLASGOW . . JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS.
SONGS AND VERSES
A 1 icM^t A
LADY JOHN SCOTT
BY
EDITED, WITH A MEMOIR, RV HER GRAND-NIECE
MARGARET WARRENDER
" Hand fast by the past"
SECOND AND ENLARGED EDITION
EDINBURGH: DAVID DOUGLAS
1911
A II rights reserved
PR
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CONTENTS
FACE
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH . i
PLACES
DURISDEER . 105
O MURMURING WATERS 107
ETTRICK . 109
LAMMERMUIR ' . . in
THE COMIN' o' THE SPRING 113
A LAMMERMUIR LII.T 116
KILPAULET BRAE .118
COMING BACK TO SPOTTISWOOD .... 120
A RIDE OVER LAMMERMUIR 121
A DISREGARDED INVITATION FROM THE CHEVIOTS 125
THE BOUNDS o' CHEVIOT 127
HISTORICAL
1 1. DICO'S LAMENT FOR ATTILA . . . 133
JAMES THE FIFTH'S REMORSE .... 135
DARNLEY AFTER RIZZIO'S MURDER . . . 139
THE LAST WORDS OF " YOUNG DAIRSIE" . . 141
LAMENT OF LADY DUNDEE FOR HER HUSBAND . 145
vi CONTENTS
JACOBITE
PAGR
JACOBITE SONG: "SHAME ON YE GALLANTS" . 151
JACOBITE SONG: "WE'VE LOOKIT FOR YE LANG" 153
JACOBITE SONG : " I'VE CAST OFF MY SATIN
PETTICOAT" 156
JEANIE CAMERON'S DEATH-SONG . . . .158
SUGGESTED BY THE HATF.D SIGHT OF Cy.LLODEN 160
AFTER CUI.I.ODEN 162
THE RETURN FROM CULLODEN .... 164
LAMENT OF THE WIFE OF A LOYALIST WHO DIED
OF HIS WOUNDS AFTER CULLODEN . . .167
HOWNAM LAW 169
MY PRINCE 172
BALLADS
ANNIE LAURIE 177
THE LADY BLANCHE'S BURIAI 180
THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER 183
THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS .... 190
BIDE IN YOUR BOWER 197
THE FAIRY QUEEN'S COURTING IN GLADHOUSE
GLEN 205
ABSENCE 209
THE AULD FIDDLER'S FAREWELL . . . .211
FOREIGN
CHANSON 217
JOYEUSE 218
AFTER THE SCARLET FEVER 1874 . . . 220
CONTENTS vii
HYMNS
PAGE
IST KINGS xix. n, 12 223
HYMN 224
HYMN ... ..... . 226
FAMILY
MARCHMONT 1834 231
"To MY SISTER IN HEAVEN" .... 233
"YOUR VOICES ARE NOT HUSHED" . . . 236
"To JOHN AND ANDREW" 238
"AFTER MY BROTHER JOHN'S DEATH" . . 240
ON MY BROTHER JOHN 241
To 243
THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH'S BIRTHDAY . . 246
PERSONAL
To H. H. C 251
MARCH 16, 1857 253
THE FOUL FORDS 255
KATH'RINE LOGIE 257
THINK ON ME 259
"AE SMILE BEFORE WE PART" .... 261
SONG: "SPEAK FOR THY WORDS" . . . 263
SONG: "MUST WE TWO PART" .... 264
SONG : "I WOULD THAT I HAD NEVER MET THEE" 266
SONG: "LONELY MY LIFE WILL BE" . . . 267
A FRAGMENT 269
viii CONTENTS
PACK
A FRAGMENT 271
A FRAGMENT 273
"O MOTHER! LET ME WEEP" .... 274
CHRISTABELLE . . 277
FAREWEEL . 279
REMORSE . 282
NEW YEAR'S EVE. SPOTTISWOOD, 1872 . . 284
WRITTEN AT THURSO 286
"LONELY AND STILL" . . . . . .288
"I SEE THEM NOT" 290
The portrait of Lady John Scott which forms the frontispiece
to the book is from a sketch by A. E. Chalon, R.A., painted
in 1839, and engraved by the Swan Electric Engraving Com-
pany, London,
I.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
ELEVEN years have already gone by since Lady
John Scott's death ; and the circle of those who
knew and loved her is growing smaller and smaller.
To them no description can bring her back exactly
as they remember her. It is almost impossible to
put into words, the many sides that formed so
original and fascinating a character, with its mix-
ture of shrewdness and simplicity, of brilliancy and
shyness, dominated to the end by the generous
hand and the warm heart. To the younger genera-
tion she will become but a name hallowed by
traditions. As they sing her songs they may
wonder what inspired them ; so it is for them,
while her memory is still fresh, that I set down
these notes.
Alicia Anne Spottiswood afterwards Lady
John Scott belonged to one of the oldest families
in Berwickshire. From time immemorial Spottis-
2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
wood of Spottiswood 1 had owned that lonely
tower on the southern slopes of Lammermuir.
" Robert de Spotteswod " affixed his seal to the
Ragman Roll in 1296 a fact of which Lady John
hated to be reminded. She looked with little
more favour on another ancestor, John Spottis-
wood, who three centuries later was Archbishop
of St Andrews, and who has left an enduring
monument of his learning and industry in The
History of the Church of Scotland, In spite of his
having been the prelate who crowned King Charles
the Martyr, Lady John had little love for his
memory, and always looked on him as a careless
guardian of the family estates. His son, Sir Robert,
was the friend and brother-in-arms of Montrose,
and of no ancestor was Lady John more proud.
Death on the scaffold was the price of his loyalty.
He was executed at St Andrews in 1646; and
four years later his nephew, "Young Dairsie,"
suffered by Montrose's side.
Early in the last century my great-grandfather,
John Spottiswood of Spottiswood, married Helen
Wauchope, daughter of the Laird of Niddrie-
1 The name is spelt indifferently Spottiswoode and Spottis-
wood. Lady John always spelt it without the final e.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 3
Marischal. 1 They must have been a very hand-
some pair. Both were tall; but, while he was a
big, fine, commanding-looking man, she was so
slight that she could make her fingers meet round
her waist, and so supple that I can remember her
as an old woman doing things none of us could
imitate. From her Lady John inherited her deep
blue eyes and curling hair. They had four chil-
dren : Alicia was the eldest, born on Midsummer
Day, 1 8 10. No birthday could have been more
appropriate, or pleased her better. She loved the
long days of summer, and she was very fond of
telling us that St John's Day was the one day in
the year when the fairies are visible, and when the
good spirits have power over the earth. Next to
her came John, afterwards a Lieut. -Colonel in the
Grenadier Guards, who died unmarried in 1846.
Then Andrew, who served in the gih Lancers
through the Sikh War and in the Mutiny, and
afterwards commanded the King's Dragoon Guards.
1 It was of him that Sir Walter Scott wrote :
" Come, stately Niddrie, auld and true,
Girt with the sword that Minden knew,
We have o'er few such lairds as you."
" Carle, now the Kings come."
4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
And lastly my grandmother, Margaret Penelope,
who married Sir Hugh Hume Campbell in 1834.
The four children were very near each other in
age, and were inseparable companions. Alicia and
Andrew shared the leadership of the little band.
They were much bolder and more enterprising
than the other two, who had inherited their
mother's singularly sweet and gentle nature. No
children can ever have had a happier or merrier
up-bringing. At a time when young people stood
far more in awe of their elders than now, they knew
little restraint, and no harsh rule. The Laird, as
Mr Spottiswood was always called, had a perfectly
calm, even temper, which nothing could ruffle ;
and my great-grandmother was the gentlest, most
affectionate of beings, beloved by every one who
came near her. The children were all fearless
riders, galloping over the moors to their hearts'
content, often coursing hares with their neighbour,
old Lord Lauderdale, who was extremely fond of
them, and never frightened them as he did his own
grandchildren. From time to time they would be
taken across the hills to their mother's former
home, Niddrie, where the Laird, a staunch Jacobite,
would tell them tales of the '45 tales which the
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 5
little Alicia never forgot. One, noted down in
after years, ran as follows :
My grandfather, the Laird of Niddrie, who was eighty-
seven years old when he died, and died when myself, my
brothers and my sister, were children, told us that his
father had collected a considerable sum of money for
Prince Charles, who, with his army, was encamped at
Duddingston, but he was puzzled how to get it to him,
as a detachment of the Rebel (Hanoverian) soldiers, was
posted between Niddrie, and His Royal Highness's camp.
He packed the money at the bottom of a large basket,
which he filled with fruit, and sent his little son (my grand-
father) scarcely six years old, with his tutor, to the Prince
with it, as if it were merely a complimentary present.
They were allowed to pass, and delivered the sum of money
to the Prince safely. A few days later, the young laird
and his tutor were walking. Prince Charles and his
army were marching past. There was a low wall between
my grandfather and them. When the Prince came opposite
to where they stood, he stopped and said : "Is not that
the young Laird of Niddrie?" He desired the tutor to
lift him over the wall, and took him in his arms and
thanked him again, for what he had done in bringing the
money.
Both at Niddrie and at home they had plenty
of young companions. Niddrie was the centre
of a large circle of cousins Wauchopes, Bairds,
Kennedys, and Hope Johnstones ; while at Spot-
tiswood the Baillies of Mellerstain and the Pringles
of Stichill, were their nearest neighbours.
6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
The children were devoted to their free country
life, and hated the yearly move to London, where
they lived in a large old-fashioned house in West-
minster 1 6 Great George Street. It is altered
now beyond recognition ; but then it had a large
garden and a roomy stable-yard, where the coach-
man's wife kept poultry. The journey was generally
made in " Noah's Ark " (the old-fashioned family
coach with dickey and rumble, in which Lady John
to the end of her days drove to Westruther Church
on Sundays), and I have often heard her describe
their leisurely progress and the places they passed
Coldstream Bridge, the scene of sorrow or of
wild joy, according to whether they were leaving or
returning to their beloved Scotland Wooler, the
next stage, with its excellent steak and fried onions,
always known as "The Wooler Carrier's Beef-
steak" Gateshead, where my great-grandmother,
who was very nervous, invariably got out and
walked up or down the steep hill and so on, not
forgetting the gibbet on Bawtry Moor, with its
ghastly burden. Occasionally they came down by
sea ; and a still existing letter to Mrs Spottiswood
relates the adventures of a five-days' voyage, when
a storm forced the good ship Soho to take
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ^
refuge off Holy Island. Alicia and her sister
were in charge of Sir Alexander and Lady Hope
of Rankeillor, whose daughter Louisa (afterwards
Lady Henry Kerr), was their dear friend and play-
mate. Mrs Lindsay was also on board, with her
son Coutts, " one of the cleverest and pleasantest
little boys possible." They were all a merry party,
in spite of rough weather and many discomforts ;
but it marks the change in travelling between those
days and now, her mentioning that the Hopes
generally slept in their carriage on deck. On
another voyage she remembered seeing pirates
hanging in chains at the mouth of the Thames.
Both Alicia and my grandmother were very
carefully educated. They were excellent French
and Italian scholars, and well read in the literature
of those countries, as well as in that of their own.
My grandmother worked beautifully. Alicia
always hated a needle as much as she loved a
pencil. She drew well, and perspective seemed
to come naturally to her. De Wint taught them
water-colour painting, and Garcia was their singing
master. Both sisters had beautiful contralto voices;
my grandmother's was the finer, but to the last
Lady John's showed the effect of perfect training ;
S BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
her enunciation was so clear, and the modulation
of the voice so finished. She played the harp,
which she always said was the most delightful
instrument to sing to; and my grandmother
accompanied herself on the guitar. They had
both thoroughly mastered the science of harmony,
and those who remember Lady John 3 s singing will
remember that not its least charm lay in the beau-
tiful, ever-varying accompaniment which seemed
to spring unconsciously from beneath her fingers.
Her music was part of her life. She was always
making tunes, or recalling the old ones with which
her memory was stored; and she would sing to
herself for hours during those interminable drives,
of which in later life she was so fond.
From her father she inherited a great love of
botany, geology, and especially archaeology. They
worked at these things together, and under his
guidance she acquired a fund of accurate know-
ledge, to which she was always adding. Her
interest never seemed to flag, and to the end of
her life she was just as keen about any of these
favourite studies as she had ever been. The
finding of a rare plant in some new spot, or the
discovery of some hitherto unexplored prehistoric
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH g
remains would wake the keenest enthusiasm ; but
it was so contrary to her nature to make any parade
of knowledge, that only those who were much with
her knew its depth and extent.
Those who remembered her in her youth always
described her as extraordinarily attractive. She
was not very tall, but very slight and graceful. Her
small head was beautifully set on her long neck,
and she had inherited the heavy-lidded, deep-blue
eyes of the Wauchopes. Though she was out in
all weathers, and never by any chance wore a veil,
her skin kept to the last its peach-like bloom and
purity of colouring. Unfortunately, no good pic-
ture exists of her, and she had an invincible
objection to being photographed. Two sketches
by Chalon, and a third by Hayter, painted soon
after her marriage, are all we have ; and, in spite
of their feeble drawing, they give an impression of
great distinction and charm.
Though so slight, she was very strong and active.
No day on the hills was too long for her. Once
for a bet with her brother Andrew she walked
fifteen miles in three hours. He had said one
morning that such a thing was impossible for any
woman. The Laird demurred, saying he was sure
to BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Alicia could do it ; so after breakfast they went off
to a rough but fairly level road across the moor
at the back of Spottiswood, where a mile was
measured. Mrs David Wauchope with her knit-
ting, and Andrew, watch in hand, sat on a knowe
by the roadside and timed her. She was well into
her third hour, when Mrs Spottiswood, hearing
what was going on, and afraid she might hurt her-
self, sent my grandmother with orders to stop her
at once ; but her task was so nearly over that her
sister had not the heart to interfere, and let her
win her bet in peace.
In those days Spottiswood was nearly all moor-
land. The woods which embosom it now were
just being planted, and constant war was waged
between the young Spottiswoods and Mr Black,
the Laird's factotum, who would have liked to
drain every spring and bit of bog in the place.
Specially favourite spots were only preserved by a
bower being made by the threatened spring, or
beneath the doomed tree. That is why so many
summer-houses were scattered through the woods.
In most cases they have outlived the memory of
their origin.
My great-grandfather did a great deal for
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH u
Spottiswood. A few fine trees stood round the
old house and down the west approach. Other-
wise it was all bog, or wind-swept grass parks
reclaimed from the moor. When my great-
grandmother was first married, she could see the
London coaches running up and down the great
North road, two miles off. Between it and
Spottiswood now stand acres and acres of thick
woodland, all planted by the Laird. He built
the present house, laid out the terraced garden,
made the lake, and planted the woods which
surround and shelter the different parks. Hear-
ing that Sir Henry Steuart had invented a method
of moving trees by means of a simple application
of the leverage principle, he sent a number of
his men to Allanton to learn "jankering," and
by this method moved trees of great size into
the Lawn Park. In a few months he transformed
it from a bare undulating meadow into a well-
planted park. Nearly all the groups of fine trees
that ornament it, were moved when full grown ;
and so successful was he, that many of his neigh-
bours followed his example, and improved their
places as quickly and effectively.
The Laird was a very remarkable man. He
12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
had been bred to the law, and before his mar-
riage had travelled much. To a calm, well-
balanced mind, he added great exercise of
common sense. His own property was admirably
managed, and through the whole of his long life
his advice was constantly sought by others. A
deep and enduring affection subsisted between
him and my great - grandmother ; and as they
each had many brothers and sisters, Spottiswood
was the centre of a large and happy family circle.
Two of Mrs Spottiswood's sisters, " Mrs David "
who had married a Wauchope cousin and
"Miss Jean," came and went as they chose.
The latter was almost as great a character as
her great-aunt, "Soph" Johnstone, whom she
resembled in many ways. A little active woman,
she rode hard, played the violin more than pass-
ably, and was a keen and jealous angler; but
her autocratic temper would have made her im-
possible to any brother-in-law less sweet-tempered
than the Laird. She resented his doing anything
at Spottiswood without consulting her, and very
often made what she considered improvements
in the place during his absence. Alicia was
too high-spirited, and she was too masterful, for
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 13
them to be really congenial companions. I only
remember her as an old woman, very deaf, but
still playing the violin; and though over eighty,
perched on steps painting the front door of her
house in George's Square, Edinburgh.
The Laird's favourite brother, "the Colonel,"
lived a few miles off, at Gladswood, by the Tweed,
with his unmarried sister, "Miss Mary." He
had served in the 5 2nd during the Peninsular
War, and was severely wounded at Badajos. As
he lay helpless on the ground, he heard steps
approaching, and fearing the human vultures that
haunt a battlefield, he had the presence of mind
to fling his gold watch as far from him as he
could. The steps turned out to be those of his
own men searching for him; and as he had
marked where the watch fell, it was retrieved,
and did him service for the remainder of his life.
Eighty years ago there was less of travel in
foreign lands, but a great deal of pleasant leisurely
visiting nearer home. When you journeyed in
your own carriage, it was as easy to stay for two
or three days in passing a friend's door, as
to pay a hurried visit now between two trains.
Alicia and her sister thought nothing of putting a
14 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
change into their saddle-bags and riding over the
hills to Yester, where they had two favourite
companions in Lady Susan Hay " and her cousin,
Mary Ley, or to Newbyth. Mrs Spottiswood's
mother had been a Baird of Newbyth ; and all
that immense cousinhood of Bairds, Kennedys,
Gordons, and Hope Johnstones were closely
knit together, and were constantly staying with
one another. Among the happiest memories of
Alicia's girlish days were the visits to Fern Tower,
where their grand -uncle, Sir David Baird (the
" hero of Seringapatam "), spent the last years of
his life to Raehills, where in her cousin, Anne
Hope Johnstone, she found a kindred spirit, as
romantic and full of poetry as herself and, best
loved of all, to Newbyth, which was like a second
home. Mrs Spottiswood and Lady Anne Baird
had always been more like sisters than cousins,
and it was under Lady Anne's care that Alicia
and her sister went to their first ball, during
the Kelso race-week. Mrs Spottiswood had
been prevented from taking them ; and Alicia
sent her a long account of their doings, which
winds up with, " I daresay you are quite tired
1 Afterwards Marchioness of Dalhousie.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 15
of this long and prosy letter, only remember tho'
it is dull on paper, it is merrier than can be
imagined in reality." She tells her "Lady Anne
and Lady Mary (Kennedy) both think Andrew
very handsome and agreeable, and he is much
made of, and very kind and attentive to us, and
takes great care of us." She speaks of Lady
Ormelie 1 (who was chaperoning her sister, Mary
Baillie), "looking like a goddess of beauty," and
she enumerates their partners Lord Elcho, Lord
Eglintoun, Lord Cassillis, Lord Elphinstone, Sir
David Kinloch, George Baillie, Norman Pringle,
Campbell of Saddell, Whyte Melville ("whom
I like, because he is married, and fine, and sulky,
and silent "), Walter Gilmour, McDowall of Logan,
etc. But what appears to have given her most
pleasure, was Campbell of Saddell's singing : " he
sings quite enchantingly, more like than anything
I ever heard, to my idea of a mermaid." The
two sisters also sang ; and " The Rhine, a duet
we got from Louisa Hope at Rankeillor, is far
more admired than any other."
She had refused to come out before her sister
the two were inseparable, but my grandmother
1 Eliza Baillie, later, Marchioness of Breadalbane.
16 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
was much fonder of society than Alicia, who seized
every opportunity of escaping from London. Thus
in July 1833 she was at Fern Tower, acting brides-
maid to her cousin, Hersey Baird, on her marriage
with Lord Strathallan, and Mrs Spottiswood writes
to her there, giving news of the rest of the family :
16 Great George Street,
20tA July 1833.
Your letter, which only arrived to-day, was most welcome,
as, altho' Lady Ailsa read Lady Anne's account of the safety
of all the party on Thursday, I began to fear you must have
been ill afterwards. However, I think, on the whole, you
have made a better sailor this time than usual. Lady Anne's
kindness to you I never can forget. I do think giving up the
bed with the window was the greatest stretch of friendship
which could be shown by one person to another. All your
fellow-sufferers seem to have vied with each other in beautiful
conduct. I am sure your conscience must have smitten you
whenever you received any kindness from poor Buffy or his
Highland aunts. Mine does dreadfully. We are going on
most pleasantly. Neither of our soldiers being at home
really makes a quiet, well redd-up house. I get my drawing-
room kept in the most perfect order. Maggy has been very
gay. She went with kind Lady Frances ' to Mrs Thurlow's -
ball on Thursday night, which turned out superb. She knew
numbers of people, and danced every dance till 4. The
magnificence of the house was dazzling. The drawing-rooms
hung with scarlet and gold. Each chair cost ;ioo. There
1 Lady Frances Ley, Lord Tweeddale's sister.
2 Maria, daughter of the Hon. Thomas Lyon, and wife of the
Rev. Thomas Thurlow of Baynard's Park, Surrey.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 17
is a large back-garden, which was floored and made like a
tent, lined with pink and white, which made all the ladies
(of course) look lovely. So much for Parson Thurlow !
Almack's turned out very enjoyable, but not first-rate.
The Laird chaperoned her there, and seemed much delighted.
I should think the gaiety is now quite at an end. I don't
know of a breakfast next week, nor, I am happy to say, of a
water-party. By this time I should suppose you are sitting
with the Bride, to whom give my kindest love. Your father,
Maggy, Hersey Wauchope, and I are just going to set out to
Chiswick, where there is a show of flowers to-day. It is a
lovely day, and I anticipate much pleasure in getting a good
blow of fresh air. We dine at the Admiralty. I am sorry
to say the Ailsas left town yesterday. Tho' I don't see a
great deal of them, they make a great blank. I sat a long
time with them before they went ; and the day before, Lady
Ailsa and I had some shopping together. Poor Lady
Aberdeen is just dying. Her complicated disorders have
now turned to water in the chest, and it is not thought she
can live many days. 1 There is nothing to be seen now but
carriages and four filled with luggage leaving town. The
Laird has bought a capital, useful mare from E. Marjori-
banks, strong, quiet, and active. He is in great health, and
joins in kindest love to you. Give my love to Lady Anne,
and remember me to all, and Lady Baird particularly.
Believe me, my dearest Alicia,
Your ever affectionate Mother,
HELEN SPOTTISWOODE.
My grandmother's marriage to Sir Hugh Hume
Campbell in 1834 made no break in the happy
1 Lady Aberdeen died August 1833. Lord Aberdeen was first-
cousin both to Mrs Spottiswood and to Lady Ailsa.
18 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
family circle. He had been her playmate from
childhood, and her brothers' companion at Eton.
The sisters were devoted to each other, and, as
Marchmont was only ten miles from Spottiswood,
there was no real separation, and Alicia was as
often at one place as at the other. It was at
Marchmont in these early happy days that she
wrote the song by which she will always be remem-
bered. Her own account of "Annie Laurie," given
many years later to her old friend, Lord Napier,
was as follows :
I made the tune very long ago to an absurd ballad,
originally Norwegian, I believe, called "Kempie Kaye,"
and once before I was married I was staying at Marchmont,
and fell in with a collection of Allan Cunningham's poetry.
I took a fancy to the words of " Annie Laurie," and thought
they would go well to the tune I speak of. I didn't quite
like the words, however, and I altered the verse, " She's
backit like a peacock," to what it is now, and made the
third verse (" Like dew on the gowan lying") myself, only
for my own amusement ; but I was singing it, and Hugh
Campbell and my sister Maggy liked it, and I accordingly
wrote it down for them.
II.
On the 1 6th of March 1836 Alicia Spottiswood
married Lord John Scott, the Duke of Buccleuch's
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 19
only brother. They were married in the drawing-
room at Spottiswood on my great-grandmother's
birthday, and they drove to Bowhill that afternoon.
It was such a cold, late spring they were nearly
snowed up there; and, curiously enough, the
snow came so early the following autumn that in
October they had to cut through drifts to get up
to Spottiswood from Cowdenknowes, their first
married home.
They spent two years at Cowdenknowes, and at
one moment thought of buying it, but it was not
wild enough country for their taste. Wells was
the place they hankered after, but it never came
into the market in time. Cawston, the property
in Warwickshire which Lord John had inherited
from his grandmother, the Duke of Montagu's
daughter, was at the time of his marriage in a most
dilapidated state, the old manor-house of the
Boughtons having been allowed to go to ruin.
Bit by bit it was rebuilt and added to ; a garden
was cut out of a copse-wood and a neighbouring
fox-covert ; and by degrees Cawston became an
enchanting spot, unlike anything else in the world.
It was a very unconventional place. To reach it
from Rugby you turned off along a farm road
20 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
through fields, barred by many gates, and eventu-
ally found yourself in the stable-yard, into which
the front door opened. At one time there was a
much better approach through the park from the
Dunchurch side ; but when Lady John enlarged
the garden she took in this road, and, as personally
she always preferred driving across the grass, she
never troubled to make a new approach. The
result was that would-be visitors were occasionally
found wandering round and round the place un-
able to discover an entrance ! Lady John was not
a gardener in the modern sense of the word, but
she knew exactly what effects she wanted, and what
flowers she wished to see, and somehow she always
managed to get them. The garden at Cawston
was my idea of a " pleasaunce," with its green
walks, its shady bowers, its pond (where as chil-
dren we were never tired of fishing for roach and
dace), and its mixture of fruit trees, flower-borders,
gooseberry bushes, asparagus beds (in which the
ruddy shelldrakes spent most of their time), and
unexpected little gardens in odd corners of the
wood. I never knew anyone so fond of building
bowers in all the woods. Even far-away spots like
Hall-oaks and Nuneham Regis had their " Pol-
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 21
moodie " and " Lady Audrey's Bower," where she
used constantly to go and drink tea. But, though
she could not live anywhere without making the
most of a place and leaving her special impress on
it, she never really cared for England.
Lord John was in Parliament, when they first
married, as Member for Roxburghshire ; and as
my grandfather, Sir Hugh Hume Campbell, then
represented Berwickshire, both sisters found them-
selves in London for part of the summer. My
grandmother had a house in Portland Place, and
enjoyed herself thoroughly, which was more than
Lady John did. She went to London as seldom
as she could, and then stayed at the " Clarendon "
for a few days at a time. The only thing she
really liked was the opera. My grandmother
always had a box, and one night, when unable to
go herself, she lent it to her sister, telling her a
new singer was to make her debut. That singer
was Grisi, and I have often heard Lady John relate
how she took the house by storm.
Except for these few weeks in London, the life
she led with Lord John was exactly the one to suit
her. They loved the same wild country and open-
air pursuits. Their Scotch home was always within
22 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
easy distance of Spottiswood : first Cowden-
knowes (from 1836 to 1839), then Newton Don
till 1841, and then Stichill till 1853. After that,
except for the short time they rented Wool, they
were either at Cawston, Kirkbank, or Caroline
Park, when not at Spottiswood or with the Duke.
The autumns of 1837 and 1838 were spent at
Blair, the Duke of Buccleuch and Lord John
having rented the Forest of Glen Tilt. A recol-
lection of their stay is preserved in the two pipe-
tunes, written in their honour, by old John Crerar,
the famous stalker, then nearing his ninetieth year
"Lord John Scott's Strathspey" and "Lady
John Scott to Ben Chat." Ben Chat is the second
highest hill in Glen Tilt, and very steep, but that
would not have deterred her from climbing it.
Lord John was much liked at Blair. During his
tenancy a secret still was discovered on a rocky
island in the Tilt, and destroyed by the excise
officers. The whole plant was surreptitiously re-
newed by Lord John, who had more than a
sneaking sympathy for those on whom the modern
restrictions of law pressed heavily. There was a
strong dash in him of the old freebooting Border
blood, and he had a great feeling as to living and
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 23
letting live. He was never hard on poachers, and
gipsies found in him and Lady John steady and
warm-hearted protectors.
Before his marriage Lord John had served in the
Grenadier Guards. Old General Spencer Stanhope
used to tell us that when he joined, he was the hand-
somest subaltern in the regiment ; but an attack of
smallpox thickened his features, and a journey to
Scotland on the outside of a coach in a snowstorm,
before the pit-marks on his face had properly
healed, made them permanent, and so altered his
looks that the first time his brother met him in
the street after his illness, he passed him without
recognizing him.
No one was ever better known, or more beloved
through the length and breadth of the Border.
His open hand, his warm heart, and his charm of
manner appealed to great and small alike. There
was no variety of out-of-door sport to which he was
not passionately devoted. Besides hunting with
his brother's hounds, he kept, when he first
married, a pack of harriers in the heart of the
Duke's country, with which he occasionally hunted
the fox as well, and woke great wrath in the mind
of old " Will," the Duke's huntsman, though the
24 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
good-natured Duke only laughed. From Kirkbank
he fished the Tweed and most of its tributary
streams, and many were the happy nights spent
"burning the water" a forbidden pleasure now-a-
days. Racing was the only one of his pursuits that
Lady John never liked or took much interest in,
though the stud was at Cawston and she used to
name his young horses. " The Reiver," the best
two-year-old of his year; "Hobbie Noble," who
ought to have won the Derby but for foul play ;
" Windhound," the sire of "Thormanby"; " El-
thiron," and many others, owed their names to
her; but she rarely saw them run.
She was a bad sailor, but she liked yachting,
especially in and out of the sheltered sea-lochs of
the West Coast, and she was constantly on board
the Lufra and the Flower 0' Yarrow. 1 They once
spent a summer at Beaulieu, near the New Forest,
yachting along the South Coast, but she disliked
its relaxing climate, and much preferred their usual
yachting quarters at Caroline Park, close to Gran-
ton. She never went on any of the rougher or
more distant expeditions with Lord John. The
1 The Lufra was a cutter of 80 ton ; the Flower o' Yarrow
a yawl of 218 ton.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 25
longest of these was a cruise to the Baltic during
the Crimean War. His companions were his
nephew Lord Dalkeith, Archie Gage, Mr Wauchope
of Niddrie, Dr Burt, and " Romey," the favourite
dog that had been left in his care by Horace Cust.
They went up to Cronstadt and sailed along each
side of the island. The English Fleet, under Sir
Charles Napier, was lying outside, but several of
the captains George Elliot (afterwards Admiral
Sir G. Elliot) amongst the number took advan-
tage of the Flower o' Yarrow to get a better view
of the enemy's position, and went into the bay on
the yacht. It was on this cruise that Lady John,
knowing how he would miss her letters, wrote
twenty-eight little notes beforehand, which were
entrusted to the steward, with directions to give
him one every morning. This was the only
far-away cruise he made, for he never went to
Norway, as has been erroneously said. The
present Duke and my uncle, Lord Haddington,
are now the last survivors of these expeditions.
In 1839 came Lady John's first great sorrow.
My grandmother, who had never been strong, de-
veloped great delicacy of chest, and was ordered
to winter abroad. On their way to Italy in October
26 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
she and Sir Hugh stopped in Paris at the Hotel
Bristol, and, without knowing it, were put into-
rooms from which a case of scarlet-fever had just
been moved. My grandmother caught it, and
died a few days later. The news of her illness and
death reached home almost simultaneously, and
was the most terrible shock. Her only child, my
mother, had been left at Spottiswood during her
absence, and in the agony of their sorrow my
great-grandparents could not bear to part with her \
and so for the next thirteen years she lived with
them almost entirely. My grandmother seems to
have had a presentiment that she would never
come back. Lady John found out afterwards that
she had separately pointed out to both husband
and sister the spot in Polwarth Churchyard where
she wished to lie ; and many other little things, as
well, came back to their minds, which showed she
had felt she was leaving them for ever. To Lady
John it was like losing part of herself. The lines
she wrote at the time show how deeply she felt it.
Nothing ever filled the blank, though as years
passed on my mother became more and more
of a companion to her. Lord and Lady John
never had any children, so my mother was the
one young thing in that closely-knit family circle.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 27
There is not much to tell about those days, for,
though full of home interests, they were lived away
from the world, and almost entirely among friends
and relations. One of the few incidents which
stand out is the Queen's visit to Scotland in 1842,
when she and Prince Albert spent a fortnight at
Dalkeith. Lady John wrote at the time the follow-
ing short account of their stay :
Wednesday, jist of August. The Queen was expected to
arrive, and we were in readiness all day to go and see her
land, but the day passed, and she did not come. The Duke
and John rode to Granton in the evening. Sir Robert Peel
followed them and they remained there all night. Next
morning news came, before we were up, that the Royal
Squadron was at anchor off Inch Keith. After breakfast
the Duchess of Buccleuch, Lady Georgina Balfour, Lady
Mary Campbell, Lord Aberdeen, Lord Cawdor, the children
and myself, set off to see the Queen land at Granton, but
when we got as far as Edinburgh, we had the vexation of
hearing that Her Majesty had passed by another road to
Dalkeith, nearly half an hour before. That very day, two
hundred and eighty-one years before, Queen Mary landed in
Scotland (reckoning by the Old Style). We drove back to
Dalkeith as fast as possible, and reached the Park just after
the bodyguard had passed through the gates. The Duchess
got into the house almost immediately after the Queen and
Prince Albert. The Duchess of Norfolk, Miss Paget, Lord
Liverpool, Colonel Bouverie, General Wemyss, Mrs Anson
and Sir James Clarke came down with them.
The Queen and Prince Albert had luncheon in their
own rooms and afterwards took a walk together ; later in
28 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
the afternoon they drove about the Park, and Colonel
Bouverie found John and made him ride with them to
show them the way. At a quarter before eight, the Duke
and Duchess of Argyle, Lord and Lady Abercorn, Lord and
Lady Rosebery, Lord and Lady Hopetoun, Lord and Lady
Kinnoull, the Duke of Hamilton and Lady Willoughby
dined here. The Queen came into the drawing-room a few
minutes before dinner was ready, and walked about and
spoke to everyone. The Duke of Buccleuch took the
Queen to dinner and Prince Albert the Duchess of Bucc-
leuch. After dinner the Queen's health was drunk, then
Prince Albert's, and soon afterwards the Queen went
up to the drawing-room, where she talked to different
people and walked about for some time. Then she sat
down on a sofa in the middle of the room, where she sat
every evening. The Duchess of Buccleuch sat beside her
on the sofa, and several other ladies sat round the table
which was before her.
On Friday the Queen and Prince came down to
luncheon, and after they had all gone into the luncheon
room, Lady Cawdor and I were sent for, to go also.
The Queen wore a tartan silk gown. After luncheon
the Queen, Prince Albert, the Duchess of Buccleuch
and the Duchess of Norfolk drove in one carriage, Lady
Cawdor, Lady Georgina Balfour, Miss Paget and I in
another. The Duke, John, Mr Balfour, General Wemyss
and Colonel Bouverie rode by the carriages. It was in-
tended that we should have gone to Rosslyn but it rained
so fast, we only went as far as Lasswade and came home
through the Park at Melville. There came to dinner
Lady Haddington, Lady Morton, the Duke and Duchess
of Roxburghe, Lord and Lady Eglintoun, Lord Melville
and Miss Dundas, Lord Elcho, the Lord Provost, Dr Lee,
Dr Cooke, Sir George Murray and Sir Neil Douglas. In
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 29
the evening, the Provost and the clergymen were presented
to her Majesty.
On Saturday, we breakfasted early, and about ten
o'clock we all drove off towards Edinburgh. The Queen
and Prince Albert went alone in the first carriage. We
went by Niddrie, and came into the low road through the
King's Park at Holyrood. The road was lined with people
nearly the whole way from Dalkeith. We did not stop at
Holyrood House, as there has been scarlet fever in one part of
it. It made me melancholy to think how deserted it is now ;
the last Princess who lived in it was Anne, when she was
in Scotland with her brother James II., then Duke of York,
and the last Prince who took up his abode there was Prince
Charles, who gave a series of balls at the Palace in 1745,
just before he left it for ever.
We proceeded up the Canongate, obliged to go at a
foot's pace, there was such a dense crowd of people. The
sight was altogether the finest I ever saw ! The archers
walked close by the Queen's carriage, the bodyguard was
in front, and behind the last carriage, to keep all right.
Every window to the top of the tall, old houses was
crowded with people ; scaffolds were erected along the
walls of the houses where it was possible, and the street
itself was a moving mass of people ; handkerchiefs were
waved, and flowers flung before the Queen's carriage ; the
cheering was immense, though now and then it was mixed
with a little hissing. The same balcony in the Regent
Moray's house, where Argyle and his family stood to see
Montrose led to prison, was filled with spectators; and I
could not help thinking that Oliver Cromwell had looked
out of those very windows after the battle of Dunbar, and
that there too the Commissioners of the Union had signed
their names. We passed slowly on, the same way that
Queen Mary was led after the battle of Carbery, and
30 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
where Prince Charles made his public entry into Edin-
burgh nearly a hundred years ago !
The Queen got out at the Castle and walked over it.
She was shown the Regalia, and we remained some time
on the Battery, looking at the beautiful view of the Forth,
and the Fife and Perthshire Hills. We then went by the
Mound to Princes Street, and so on, till we came to the
Dean Bridge, where her Majesty went on to Dalmeny to
luncheon, with the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, etc.,
and we came home. A scaffolding fell in Princes Street
and two people were killed and several hurt. Lord and
Lady Dalhousie, Lord and Lady Belhaven, Captain
Dundas, Miss Anne Dundas, the Lord Register, Sir
William Rae, came to dinner.
On Sunday we had service performed by Mr Ramsay 1 in
the dining-room at 12 o'clock. After luncheon the Duchess
of Buccleuch drove the Queen in her pony carriage, first
about the Park, and then to Newbattle and Dalhousie.
Lord Adolphus Fitz-Clarence and Lord Mark Kerr dined
here. On Monday a reception was held here. The large
drawing-room was the place chosen ; the Queen stood about
half-way up the room on the side furthest from the windows.
We, who were in the house, were allowed to go up im-
mediately after the addresses were presented. The entrance
was by the side door, and up the great staircase. Every-
thing was very well arranged ; there was no confusion
whatever, which was wonderful considering the immense
number of carriages, three hundred and seventy-one we
heard. The archers lined the halls and the staircases,
and prevented any delay or stop.
Scarcely any strangers dined at Dalkeith that day.
Tuesday we breakfasted early and went to the foot of
1 Afterwards Dean of Edinburgh.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 31
the staircase and saw the Queen and Prince Albert depart
for the Highlands. 1 The Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch
went also. They were to cross at the Queen's Ferry, so
called from an English Queen of Scotland (Margaret
Atheling), who landed there seven hundred and seventy-
four years ago and married Malcolm Canmore. On
Tuesday 1 3th, the Duchess came back about three
o'clock, and the Queen, etc., at five. She was attended
by the gentlemen of the country and their tenantry. We
all stood at the foot of the staircase and she shook hands
with us when she came in. Lord Frederick and Lady
Augusta Fitz-Clarence came to dinner. Next day, Wednes-
day, the Queen did not come to luncheon, but after luncheon
she, Prince Albert and the Duchess of Buccleuch drove to
Rosslyn. The Duke of Buccleuch and General Wemyss
rode to Granton to settle something about to-morrow's
embarkation and could not get back in time for dinner.
John had to take the Queen to dinner. After dinner the
Queen and Prince Albert wrote their names in a book the
Duchess has got for autographs, and everyone who has been
staying at Dalkeith just now, has also written his name in
the same book. Thursday, some of the Queen's attendants
went away at half-past five, the Duchess of Norfolk and
Miss Paget at half-past six ; we breakfasted at half-past
seven, and then the Queen, Prince and Duchess of
Buccleuch drove away ; Lord and Lady Emlyn, Mr
Talbot and I followed. There were a great many people
almost all the way ; they cheered immensely. They
took Mr Talbot for Sir Robert Peel, and hissed him. A
body of archers met us, and on the pier we found another
1 The Queen and Prince Albert left Dalkeith on 6th September
to pay visits at Scone, Taymouth, and Drummond Castle, re-
turning to Dalkeith on I3th September.
32 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
body, who formed a lane for the Queen to pass to the
gangway, to go on board the Trident steam vessel, in
which she is to return. We all went on board and saw
the vessel ; it was very nice. The Queen bid us good-bye,
and kissed us ; and then we went on shore, stood to see
her sail ; it was a very pretty sight, the day fine, and the
pier crowded with people.
It was noticed at the time, that of all the guests
at Dalkeith, the one the Queen singled out, and
showed most pleasure in talking to, was the
Duchess of Roxburghe, then in the first flush of
youth and beauty. The Queen generally sent for
her to come and sit by her after dinner. The
friendship begun then proved one of the most
enduring of the Queen's life.
Lady John was at both the Bals poudres that
were given at Buckingham Palace. At one, the
whole Court, headed by the Queen and Prince
Albert, danced a Polonaise through all the State
apartments. The period chosen for the other
1740-50 covered the few weeks when Prince
Charles held his Court at Holyrood; and Lady
John could not resist the temptation of imperson-
ating one of his devoted adherents. But which ?
That was the question. And in her perplexity
she fell back for advice on Charles Kirkpatrick
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 33
Sharpe, and the following letters passed between
them :
To Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
Newton Don,
Dear Mr Sharpe, Saturday. (May 1846.)
I am going to do a very impertinent thing.
I am trying to think of a costume to wear at the Queen's Ball
next month, and the time, 1740-50, is much too tempting for
me to resist trying to find a Jacobite character for the occa-
sion. It must be a Court dress of the period, and rigorously
exact, and I am going to apply to you to know if Flora
Macdonald ever was at Prince Charles' Court at Holyrood
(of course, she never was at any other !), and if you could
give me a notion of what her costume was. No one but you
could tell me, and, if you will be so kind, you do not know
how grateful I shall be to you. If poor Flora never was at
Court, can you give me any idea of any other lady who went
to Holyrood then, and what sort of dress, gloves, shoes, etc.,
she wore ? Of course, I suppose one of the Charteris' will
be Lady Nelly Wemyss, so I except her.
Now, dear Mr Sharpe, if I bore you, or if you think me
too impudent, do not take any notice of my letter.
Lord John desires his kind remembrance.
Believe me, Yours very sincerely,
ALICE A. JOHN SCOTT.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, Monday. (May 1846.)
Dear Madam,
I have the honour of receiving your letter
yesterday, and beg leave to assure you that it gives me
infinite satisfaction to be of the slightest service to you.
34 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Miss Flora was never at Holyrood House during the
Prince's abode there. Lady Margaret Macdonald, long a
useful friend to her, told my mother she was introduced to
him by Mrs Macdonald of Clanronald after the battle of
Culloden. But, if you should like to dress as Miss Flora,
this need be no obstacle, for there was no particular Court
dress during the reign of rich silks and embroidery. Ladies
went to common parties as fine as at St James's ; hoops were
worn by almost all ranks.
I have a print of Miss Flora (three-quarters) from her
picture painted during her fashion. The dress might be
made tolerable.
Lady Mackintosh, who routed Lord Loudoun's forces near
Moy with a blacksmith and her own servants, was with the
Prince at Holyrood House. I have a head of her from a
picture by Ramsay. She raised the clan for Charles, in spite
of her husband, whom, it was said, she took prisoner in a
skirmish. Any drawings, or anything I 'have, pray com-
mand. Mr Hogarth's prints are a perfect authority for every-
thing. I suspect that the Queen hath a mind to titter at her
loyal subjects during the Ball, for the costumes of the ladies
at the period chosen were very unbecoming, and that of the
gentlemen hideous.
Should you be in Edinburgh shortly, I shall be most happy
to wait upon you to hold a consultation about costumes.
Meanwhile, if I can do anything else to serve you or Lord
John in this or any other thing, it will make me very proud.
I have old jewels and lace, etc., that might be of use. Could
you come hither to inspect them ? I write confusedly with a
bad cold, but I hope the sense of my scrawl is clear enough.
So, begging leave to present my very best respects to Lord
John, I am, dear Madam,
Your most faithful Servant,
C. KIRKPATRICK SHARPE.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 35
P.S. If the Prince ever danced with any of Lord Wemyss'
family, it must have been with Countess Janet, the Lord
Elcho's mother, but that was not likely, as Lord Wemyss
used to join with me in thinking. What fibs are always told
even in recent times, as the 1745 seems to be to your old
servant ! The jig is merely the "Bob of Dunblane."
To Charles Kirkpatrick Sharps.
Gladswood,
Saturday. (May 1846.)
Dear Mr Sharpe,
I delayed for a day or two to thank you
for your most kind letter, as there was a chance of Lord
John's being for a day in Edinburgh, and in that case he
would have taken my gratitude to you himself, and at the
same time looked at the coiffure of the " Lady of Moy," and
brought me a correct description of it.
I cannot tell you how very much obliged to you I was for
being so kind to answer all my tiresome questions ! The
Queen cannot laugh fairly at her subjects, as she will be in
the same case. 1 should think it should go to Prince
Albert's heart to have his moustaches, etc. shaved off!
Lord John is of your opinion about the unbecomingness of
the costume, I suppose, as he -will not go, and thinks me a
great goose for going, but I must say I would like to see the
world retrograded a hundred years, if it is only for one night.
Your offer of lending me lace and jewels is much the kindest
I ever heard of, but with the greatest gratitude I must
decline taking advantage of it, as it would be a weight in my
mind to think I had anything of another person's, to lose or
be stolen (either of which is likely to happen in the crowd).
I am very sorry to hear that Lady Nelly Wemyss is a
fabulous heroine I always believed in her till now. I was
36 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
looking at your drawings at Abbotsford, the only things I go
there to look at (except my name and arms among the
border chieftains in the hall). What a vile place it is ! A
ginger-bread house half buried in a swampy hole. One
feels as if one could hardly breathe in it.
We go back to Newton Don on Monday morning, but I
could not longer put off telling you how very grateful I am
to you for all your good nature to me.
Believe me to be,
Yours very sincerely,
ALICE A. JOHN SCOTT.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh. ^th May 1846.)
Dear Madam,
I am always most happy to be of any use
to you, and as to the poor trifles I offered, had they been
lost, I should have consoled myself, that they had served
you. Item : I have all my life been so used to losses that I
bear them much better than luckier persons can possibly do.
I send a sketch of Lady Macdonald, which will furnish
what you desire. I do think that the hair in a good hair-
dresser's hands, might be made very pretty but I hear that
everybody is to wear powder (I suspect not in vogue at all
during the period marked), and the ladies no hoops. Mercy
on us ! An Irish fancy ball, alias bull like the Eglinton
Tournament, where was never a knight or the play of
Hamlet^ Hamlet omitted by desire of the Queen !
I do not wonder that you have some curiosity as to the
sight, especially as you cannot possibly make a fright of
yourself but however handsome a gentleman may be, he
cannot stand the costume. I have a coat of my grand-
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 37
father's, a sight of the back of which would make the heart
of the stoutest hero quail. Old and deformed as I am, I
should die under the shame of it in public.
Queens (and Kings too) generally think that nobody
desires to laugh at themselves a great error, and which
often has led to very serious consequences.
I never saw Abbotsford but I have often heard that it is
exactly as you describe it. Poor Sir Walter knew nothing
of architecture, painting or music and you will wonder at
my impudence, dear Madam, when I tell you, that in many
points he appeared to me an ill judge of literary composition.
He over and over again told me that he could not perceive
the slightest merit in Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd nor have
the patience to read one volume of Richardson's Clarissa \
The loss was lucky for him in one sense and also for
Lord Byron, who held the same opinion because, could
they have read the book, they must needs have blushed for
the poor Newgate rascals they were so fond of portraying,
when compared with the satanic Lovelace of humble Samuel
Richardson.
The only Lady Nelly Wemyss of the year '45 afterwards
Lady Nelly Dalrymple was so very young when the Prince
was at Holyrood, that it is next to impossible she danced
there with him nor, had she been old enough, was it likely
that her father should suffer her to make such a demonstra-
tion but her mother probably was the lady though against
that some things might be urged, with which I shall not at
present tire you.
Pray honour me with your commands whenever it suits
you have the goodness to present my best respects to
Lord John.
Believe me, dear Madam, to be ever,
Your most faithful Servant,
C. KIRKPATRICK SHARPE.
38 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Similarity of tastes formed a great bond between
Lady John and M r Sharpe. He was at that time
the highest living authority on Scottish folk-lore,
family history and tradition generally ; and a cor-
respondence which originally started with some
questions .about Drumlanrig, went on more or
less intermittently till his death. Among Lady
John's papers were a bundle of his letters, labelled
" Letters from C. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, all interest-
ing," and as her replies, which had been returned
at his death, were tied up with them, it is possible
to reconstruct the correspondence.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
^^th March. (1846.)
Dear Madam,
I hope you will do me the honour of accepting
Lord Kelly's Minuets, which I am certain, knowing your
musical taste, that you will think very pretty. I wish I
could afford to print more of his MSS. music ; but such
things are a horrid expense, and my comfort is, that I
think I should now blunder horribly in correcting the press.
His songs, I guess, you will not care for.
I send two ballads, never printed, that I have heard in
Annandale. Moll the Rover, with the chorus calculated
for a drum accompaniment, seems to me to have spirit.
The other is the genuine air of Helen of Kirkconnel. How
and when the common vile melody was patched up, I do
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 39
not know. This, in my youth, was the song everybody
sang, on the very spot where the tragedy took place. I
was formerly very anxious to discover at what time the
fair young lady was killed ; but tho' I had access to all the
charter chests likely to satisfy my curiosity, I could obtain no
satisfaction. I have altered one word in the poetry. For,
"I'll make a garland of thy hair," I have substituted
"bracelet," a garland of hair gives the suspicion of a wig\
the most unpoetical idea possible, a complete extin-
guisher of Cupid and all his romantic train.
I also send a copy of the letter which Lord Cassilis wrote
after the death of his wandering wife. About that story
too, I could never be very clear. The late Lord Had-
dington, who remembered everything, and did not much
care for family slips, declared that there was no foundation
for such a scandal in his Pedigree.
I am vexed to hear that the cabinets I remember at Drum-
lanrig are gone, or empty ; the papers probably were burnt,
as nobody in that part of the world cared for such things.
Perhaps they were deposited in what was called the charter
room, of which I never saw anything but the door. In it
was a singular curiosity a grant to the family entirely
written by King James the 1st, not Solomon the 1st of
England, but his amiable and luckless predecessor.
I remember a very pretty model of the tomb at Durisdeer,
which stood in the gallery. Item : a curious small room,
called the Court of France. It was fitted up with prints of
the noblesse of Louis XIV. 's time, dressed in real silk and
satin. My father used to say that the old Duke of Queens-
berry was fond of this room, and used to walk about in it,
singing French chansons out of tune.
I recollect a picture of old, glorious, alias K. William, on
horseback, which the Highlanders had stabbed in the leg
during what is called the Rebellion ; another of a Turkish
40 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
ambassador by Kneller, which much pleased my juvenile
taste. I most reluctantly confess that I never saw the ghost
at Drumlanrig, though much I heard of her a Lady Anne,
who used to appear at night with her head in one hand and
fan in the other. There was a small oval picture in the
saloon, pointed out as her portrait, but this, of which I have
a print, was the second Duke's daughter, who died very
young. The ghost was more probably. Lady Anne Elcho,
who was miserably burnt to death at Wemyss Castle ; yet
she was a good, pious woman, and certainly buried with her
head on her shoulders.
I remember the steps of a large waterfall and several
fountains, or rather their basins, all dry a statue in one,
which the common people called "Jock wi' the horn," alias
a Triton, which threw the water thirty feet high. The gardens
were charming, but all broken down and neglected their
statues melted down to patch up holes on the roof of the
house.
I fear I have tired you with my dull recollections. If so,
pray forgive me.
28 Drummond Place,
May 1846.
I was happy to learn lately that in the charter-room at
Drumlanrig are the cabinets I remember, and that there is a
list of all the letters, etc.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
$tA August 1847.
Dear Madam,
It gives me infinite pleasure to know that
you like the trifles which I can offer. I hope to find the
Cardinal shortly. Meanwhile in arranging my prints, I
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 41
have found a duplicate which I hope you will honour me by
accepting. It is a full length of Mary of Modena when
Duchess of York, from Lely and pretty enough. As it is
folio size, I shall send it to George's Square to wait your
return to Scotland, which I hope will be soon, from what
you write as to the health of Mr Spottiswood.
We have all been roasted here this summer with the heat,
and are now cooling slowly it nearly killed me nor have
I escaped the Jenny Lind fever, for I have got a ticket for
her concert, though I can guess very well what I am to
hear. It is said she is of Scotch extract, which we need not
care about, as long as this country can boast of a Miss Lolla
Montes, alias Wright, a gem from the town of Montrose !
who makes a bulldog her lap-dog, and can break a carter's
arm with a cudgel. Mademoiselle Rachel is also to appear
here shortly, which I am vastly glad of, as I have greatly
longed to see her. I never saw a French tragedy in my
life, and, if the Margravine of Anspach's imitations of
Mademoiselle Clarion were correct, it must be a most
comic exhibition.
Our Scottish Princes have been overhauled in the last
number of the Quarterly with too much tenderness, I
think.
To Charles Kirkpatrick Sharfe.
Leamington,
Monday, (zist September 1847.)
Dear Mr Sharpe,
I should long ago have acknowledged your
most kind letter, but I was till very lately so anxious about
my Father, who was much worse again, that I had not the
heart to write to any one. Now I am thankful to say he is
going on steadily well, and I again see light at the end of
42 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
the avenue, and hope we may all be home in Scotland
soon.
I can only say, as I have done before you are much too-
kind to me ! How delighted I shall be to receive Mary of
Modena, and place her among her children and grand-
children. All the prints, you have so very kindly given
me, I have had framed, and ranged round the walls of my
sitting room at Cawston, as I had them at Newton Don.
If you have not sent it to Miss Wauchope's, will you kindly
despatch it by the railway directed to me, 21 Beauchamp'
Square, Leamington, Warwickshire. If it were three times
as large I should like to have it ; and if Miss Wauchope has
it, I will write and desire her to send it.
There is some game to be sent to her house, half of which
she is to send to you, if you will accept it, tho' I daresay
you are inundated with it from Dumfriesshire !
I wonder whether you like Jenny Lind, and whether her
singing was not like what you expected, for that seems
to be one of her merits, that everyone is surprised, how-
ever much they may have heard in her praise beforehand.
I saw Mademoiselle Rachel several times some years
ago, and I did not like her, but I suppose I was a
very bad judge. She certainly ranted and declaimed then,
though she may be softened and subdued into something
more natural now. I daresay out of compliment to Scot-
land she will play "Marie Stuart" ; if so, I hope she has
taken a new view of the character since I saw her, for then
I thought she must have gone to Billingsgate for a model to
study it from.
The Queen must have enough of the equinoctial gales by
this time, and as she is in reality quite as sea-sick as Prince
Albert, though she makes no fuss about it, I pity her off the
Lancashire coast just now.
I often sing your songs. My most favourite of all is
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 43
" Helen of Kirkconnell," and Lord John's the one your
father composed when he was a boy. 1 It certainly is a
beautiful air ! and I think my favourites are " Lady
Margaret," "The Wood of Cockair," and the air of "The
Drucken Maidens."
I hope you are sufficiently horrified at the Praslin murder.
I fervently hope Mademoiselle de Luzy will have her head
cut off. A gentleman who was staying at Praslin only last
summer says the Duke was very disagreeable and harsh, and
the poor Duchess a pattern of everything that was admirable
and high-principled.
I will not inflict any more on you, but beg to send Ld.
John's very kind regards, and my very warm thanks.
Believe me, my dear Sir,
Most gratefully and sincerely yours,
ALICIA A. JOHN SCOTT.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, $tk October 1847.
Dear Madam,
I am much obliged to you for the honour of
your last letter ; and only wish I could send you anything
more worthy of your thanks. The portrait of Q. Mary of
Modena, I had sent to Miss Wauchope before I heard from
you ; and I believe she has transmitted it to Leamington.
As I said before, it is not a very good print ; but the best of
her we have.
Ten thousand thanks for the game, which was excellent j
and indeed, Madam, your expression about Dumfriesshire
1 "Absence" ; the words by Lady Grizell Baillie. The air
written, for the flageolet, by the late Charles Sharpe of Hoddam,
when seven years old.
44 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
made me laugh ; for the truth is, there is not a person
there, who would like to send me a brace of bats, though
bred in the walls of my own old mansion.
I am much flattered by what you say about my music, and
enclose the proof sheet of an old song which I have given to
Wood for his new publication. It was noted down by Miss
Campbell of Monzie from the singing of Miss Willy Boyd
(afterwards Williamson), who learnt it from her nurse.
It gives me very great pleasure to hear that Mr Spottis-
wood is so much better, and I hope you will soon be able to
leave the sick quarters at Leamington, which, if it be at all
like what Bath once was, is but a dismal scene.
The last word reminds me of the tragic Jewess, Rachel
Felix, whom I saw in Camille and Phedre. Oh heavens,
such rant such tear and wear of love and lungs ! What
surprised me most was that Mademoiselle did not in the least
care about the rules of stage position but always stood too
near the person she was addressing in fact, when she made
love to her stepson, she looked as if she were going to bite his
ear off. In Horace, the chair she was to faint in was not
properly placed, so she composedly set it as it should be, and
then flopped into it with her eyes shut ! In the other play,
after being much applauded on one of her exits, she came
back again to make a bow which was certainly much beneath
the dignity of a haughty Queen of Athens.
I have also heard the Swedish night-bird Miss Jenny
Lind, but felt none of those transports which agitate her
audience in general. Mara had a much richer and sweeter
voice in her very highest notes while Miss Jenny actually
screams. However, she is a very pretty singer, with an
excellent shake. The sort of hum she can make appeared to
me very pleasant, though, withal, it is not music.
I do not remember a worse French murder in the higher
ranks than that of poor Madame de Praslin, though there
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 45
were very shocking ones in the reign of Henry III., and the
Marquise de Gange's slaughter is scarcely creditable now. I
saw Madame de Flahault two days ago, who read to me some
of the Duchess's letters written shortly before her death
moving enough, poor soul, owing to her sad catastrophe.
There was much about the impertinence of the jade who
made her so miserable. Madame de Flahault tells me that
this odious wretch, who she hired for the Duchess without
having seen her, is not handsome an ugly turned up nose,
with wide nostrils, a tolerable complexion and abundance of
curled hair with crimson ribbon emblem, God wot, of her
bloody disposition. When Madame de Flahault first saw
her at the Sebastiani Hotel, she asked the Duchess who she
was, and on being told it was the governess she had herself
procured from England, said she never would have recom-
mended her had she ever seen her. The canopy of the
Duchess's bed, very heavy, was suspended from the roof of
the room ; and after her murder it was discovered that some-
body had undone almost all the screws, so that it might have
fallen and crushed her to death.
Old Lady Stapleton, the late Lord le Despencer's grand-
mother, told me that she was in the drawing-room with
Lady Ferrers, when her husband attempted to shoot her.
They were looking out at the lawn, when the door behind
them opened, and crack went a pistol bullet into the window
shutter, just above Lady Stapleton's head. What comfort-
able company to be in, dear Madam ! Lord Ferrers was after-
wards hanged for the murder of his steward, one Johnson.
To Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
Spottiswood,
My dear Sir, Frie ^> ' 7th March >l848 '
I must first thank you very much for the
"Lady of Moy" who is very pretty in spite of her dingy
46 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
complexion. It was very kind of you to send me the print,
and I am very much obliged to you.
I want to ask you whether you know an old Scotch fairy
tale, called "The Weary Well at the World's End."
Several old women hereabouts knew little bits of it, but
they all forget most of it, and what I have heard has taken
my fancy so much that I want to get the whole, and
I thought if anyone knew it, it would be you. I also
want to ask you whether you know a very old set of
" Willie's drowned in Yarrow." There are several sets of
it which I know, but I cannot get the one I want, which
begins : " The kye come hame, and Willie's awantin'."
Several have told me they remember having heard it long
ago, but have long since forgot it.
I also want to ask you if you have heard a song, be-
ginning :
" Stichill never shall get ye, Jean,
Stichill never shall get ye,
For a' his gowd and his bonny black horse,
He may come but he'll go without ye, Jean,
Bonny Jean of the Hirsel,
For a' his lands and a' his gear,
Stichill never s'all get ye, Jean."
An old woman sang it to me, yesterday, and said she had
forgot all the rest. I was anxious to ask if you knew it, for
I have heard it before, and " Bonny Jean of the Hirsel " was
the daughter of an old Lord Home who long ago married a
Hume of Polwarth, and her picture is at Marchmont, for my
poor sister and I thought her so pretty we had it put up in
the dining-room there some years ago. I hope you will not
be very angry with me for boring you so much, but I trust
that you will not answer a single question if it troubles you,
and pray forgive me.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 47
What changes in France since we met. Henry V. must
be very soft not to have tried his fortune at the present. I
am glad the Duchess of Orleans is disappointed. I am sure
she meant to play some deep game for herself and her son.
What a set of poltroons Louis Philippe and his sons have
turned out.
Lord John begs to be particularly remembered to you, and
I am, with much gratitude,
Yours very sincerely,
ALICIA A. JOHN SCOTT.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, yth April 1848.
"The Well at the World's End" was the darling of my
boyhood, and I still remember it so perfectly that when the
<lays are warmer I shall attempt to write it down for your
.amusement. The ground-work is of great antiquity, as
Apuleius tells us that Venus, enraged by her son's love for
Psyche, sent the poor nymph a dreadful journey to fetch her
a pitcher of water. Chambers has printed " The World's
End Well" in his Popular Rhymes, Etc., but it is the story
of the frog in the well, not the right tale. When Mr Thom-
son of Duddingston's pictures were sold, after his death, I
bought his picture of the well. It is tolerably good colour,
but I think might have been much better.
Though I have known several versions of " Drowned
Willie," I never met with one beginning like that which you
mention. It promises well, and I wish one could recover
the rest. To the other song I was an utter stranger at
least I think so now, but then I have forgot vast numbers
which I long ago heard sung by travelling tailors, ballad
48 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
women, and the damsels on the Hoddam Estate, who con-
vened once a year at the Castle to give my mother a
" Spinning Day," as it was called. They arrived in a stately
procession, with their wheels upon their backs, and were
refreshed with as much beer as they could drink, and dinner
of salted beef and cheese.
France, indeed, is at her old tricks again, dear Madam,
sad and sickening to think of. Her revolutions are a dis-
grace to human nature. My young blood was frozen by the
horrors of the first outbreak, which began exactly like this,
only more blood at first. Of that, doubtless, we shall have
enough shortly, and, after all, no great matter. The ex-King
and his cubs have cut a shocking figure. He is the true son.
of that monster Egalite, whose execution, I remember well,
transported me with joy. You will be amused when I men-
tion that the murder which struck me most then was that of
Madame du Barry ! I was acquainted with her in all her
costumes through the Lady's Magazine, and shocked when
she behaved so ill on the scaffold, while others died
heroically.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, 8tA March 1849.
I was introduced to Lord Lauderdale a long while ago, but
have never met him since. His family was always pleasant,
and generally with much more genius than other people.
There was a family face too, plain enough, but very pre-
possessing the Duke's will do for all the rest, as far as
portraits go. What an extraordinary man he was as to
learning and talents, and is, I think, the same ! But he
never thumb-screwed the Whigs (I wish he had !) at any of
his houses that was a public entertainment which I should
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 49
have delighted to enjoy. I have some old views of the
ancient Castle, which are very curious and magnificent.
Some time ago I attempted to write the tale of the " Well
at the World's End " for your amusement, but find that I
have forgot all the petty details. The story-tellers of former
date always commenced it thus :
" Ance in a day
When geese were grey
And birds they biggit
In auld men's beards
There was a King and a Queen
As in mony lands hae been,
The King had a daughter
And the Queen had a daughter "
by former marriages. The King's daughter was beautiful, the
Queen's a fright. The King dies, and the Queen, who hated
his daughter because she outshone her own crooked offspring
and had a great many lovers, resolved to destroy her. So
she sends her with the pitcher on her head to the well at the
world's end for some of the water, thinking that the goblins
and wild beasts would kill her on the way. I have forgot
her adventures in detail, only that she was civil to all the
fairies in disguise and the warlocks she met with ; and when
she came to the world's end and was in great distress at not
finding the well, a voice told her whereabouts it was, and
advised her to wash herself in it, which she did, and came
out ten times more charming than she was before. She goes
home again with the pitcher full, and throws the Queen into
despair, who then thinks of sending her ugly daughter to the
well, that she might get rid of her hump, etc. etc. She sets
off, but is so rude to all the wonders she meets in the way
that they bite and scratch her, break her pitcher, and duck
her in a filthy ditch. In this sad pickle she returns to her
mother, who throws herself from a rock into the sea ; and
50 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
"the finest Prince that ever was seen" marries the King's
daughter, of course.
This is founded on the old story of Cupid and Psyche,
which poor Mrs Tighe has so prettily versified. How tired
you will be, dear Madam, by puzzling over my unreadable
scrawl.
But here I end, with most sincere wishes to you and
Lord John.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, yrtk September 1850.
What follows about Caroline Park may perhaps amuse
you. The ruin, close to it, was long one of the chief
nests of the Whiggery during the reign of King Charles I. ,
and many a Cockatrice egg of the Covenant was hatched in
it. It belonged to Sir Thomas Hope, the rebellious king's
advocate, who used to collect his fellow spiders there
privately to weave treason against his kind master. What
a pity it was that he did not live to the Restoration, when
he would certainly have been hanged.
At Caroline Park used sometimes to reside Lord Royston
and his eccentric daughter, Lady Dick of Priestfield. She
and her maid were taken up by the city guard at night for
breaking windows in the High Street they were dressed as
men. This lady wrote many lampoons, which were very
popular at the time.
From Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
28 Drummond Place,
Edinburgh, 2$rd December \ 850.
The little picture, the Prince of Wales, which I send,
belonged to the Kenmure family. My father's first cousin,
Miss Peggy Laurie of Maxwelton, niece of "Annie," pre-
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 51
sented it to me. The first baronet's daughter married Mr
Gordon of Kenmure, and the last of that family left her
paraphernalia to Peggy. Peggy was no Jacobite, though
descended from very staunch ones, so she gave me this
trifle, which was said to have been done at Rome item : the
diamonds were picked out long before it came into my
cousin's possession.
An anecdote out of place the day that Miss Laurie was
to be married to Mr Gordon, a Whig, the son of one of Sir
Robert's tenants, was to be hanged at Dumfries. His
mother came to the bride, weeping and wringing her hands,
with : " Oh, sweet madam, for God's sake, save my son.
Your father can do it, and he will grant you anything on a
day like this."
The bride's reply was: "From all I have heard of your
son, it will do him a great deal of good to be hanged." And
so the colloquy concluded.
In spite of your kindness, I am certain I shall never know
the subject of the Duchess of Portsmouth's letters to the
Duke of Queensberry. The Duke was my uncle, for his
sister, Lady Isabella's daughter, was my grandmother, so I
would fain suppose him a "Joseph Andrews" if I could.
He was fondest of money than anything else, and beyond
measure proud. I have a letter of his in which he states
that he did not go to Lady Isabella's funeral because the
notice of her death was sent by the post, and not by special
messenger.
To Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe,
Spottiswood,
"]th January 1851.
My dear Mr Sharpe,
I only yesterday received the little picture
of James VIII. through the tardy hands of Miss Wauchope,
$2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
and I cannot express half my gratitude to you for bestowing
such a treasure upon me. The only point on which I feel
worthy of it is my complete appreciation of it. Independent
of my loyal feelings towards the original of the miniature, I
think it very pretty and quaint in itself, and shall wear it
with most grateful remembrance of the giver, who has always
been so very kind to me ever since we have been acquainted.
You may depend on my telling you whatever I may hear
of the Duke of Queensberry's correspondence ; and the Duke
of Buccleuch promised to let me know if he finds anything
curious.
We in Lammermoor, have had a winter like May, and it is
still warm and sunny, buds coming out and green peas above
the ground.
Lord John has found a new amusement which excites him
very much duck shooting in a gunning punt on the Forth.
He will send you some proofs of his prowess next time he
goes on an expedition. With his kindest remembrances to
you, Believe me, dear Mr Sharpe,
Yours most gratefully and sincerely,
ALICIA A. JOHN SCOTT.
Mr Sharpe's death in 1851 brought the corre-
spondence to a close.
Three years before this had occurred an incident
of Court life, which Lady John was very fond of
describing the visit of the Prince and Princess of
Parma to Bowhill. They had been driven from
home by the Revolution of 1848, and for the second
time in her life the Princess found a refuge in
Scotland. In 1830 she had lived at Holyrood
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 53
with her grandfather, Charles X., and her little
brother, the Due de Bordeaux. This time she
came with her husband and her children, " Piccolo
Bobbi" and "Bella Megga" (in after years the
unhappy Duchess of Madrid). Lady John said
the Princess was the most lovable creature in the
world, very pretty, perfectly natural, and talking
the prettiest broken English. When they played
cards, if anybody dawdled or was undecided, she
used to say, " It is a beautiful thing to be quick ! "
One night they had waxworks. Lord John was
showman, and the Duke a country bumpkin who
had come to see the show. Lady John was Queen
Pomare, with a black crape mask closely stretched
over her face and neck. The Princess said,
" Make me anyone you like, but, oh ! do not make
me Madame de Pompadour ! " I do not remem-
ber what character was finally chosen for her.
Another evening they acted charades, the words
chosen being " surgeon " (Sir-John), " music "
(mew-sick), and " guitar " (guy-tar). The Princess
took the part of the White Cat in " Mew," Lord
John being the Prince ; and in the final scene of
" Guitar " she was Dona Altisidora, serenaded by
Major Baillie, who made a very good-looking Don
54 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Alfonso. Lady Dalmeny was the duenna; and
the three cavaliers who rush in and surprise them
were Lord Dalmeny, the Duke, and Lord John.
A very amusing scene was " Surgeon " the Duke
in the title-part, and Lord John the patient, out of
whom three long kitchen forks were extracted by
the help of an oyster knife and a pair of pincers.
Miss Charteris 1 was the nurse in attendance. The
Prince and Princess stayed a long time at Bowhill,
and were to have gone on to Stichill, but cholera
was raging in Kelso that autumn, and it was
thought unsafe to let them come, so Lady John
never saw her poor, pretty Princess again.
After this the landmarks in her life were mostly
sad ones. Her elder brother John, who had been
in bad health for some time, had died of consump-
tion at Torquay in 1846. He was of a much more
silent and reserved nature than the rest of the
family, but was greatly beloved. In the Grenadiers
his nickname was the " Emu," from his small head
and large eyes. He was a fine horseman, and fond
of travelling. Spain was the country he knew and
loved best, and he was well versed in her literature.
Another death which made a great blank, and
1 Afterwards Lady Warwick.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 55
was deeply felt by them all, was Sir David Baird's
in 1852. The circumstances under which it hap-
pened made it doubly sad. The Berwickshire
hounds were hunting near Printonan, and in open-
ing a gate Sir David was badly kicked by a restive
horse, and his leg broken. They tried to move
him to Marchmont, but the jolting of the cart in
which he was placed caused such agony, that they
had to stop at Mount Pleasant and carry him into
the little roadside inn. Lord John, who was close
to him when the accident happened, went with
him, and never left him again. Lady John came
over from Spottiswood to help Lady Anne, who
was hurriedly sent for from Newbyth. For nearly
a fortnight they nursed him in that wretched hovel
for it was little more. Then blood-poisoning
came on, and Sir David died. The misery and
discomfort of that time can hardly be realized.
Wretched beds, no proper cooking, doors and
windows that would not shut, and which let in the
bitter cold of those January nights ; not even a
mat on the bare stone floors ! Lady John always
thought Lord John never recovered the exposure
and fatigue of those long nights of watching, and
that this started the rheumatism and sciatica from
56 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
which latterly he suffered so much ; but it is more
than likely that long hours of lying on wet moors
waiting for wild geese, and nights spent on the
river in dripping clothes, may have partly accounted
for it. Willie Scott, the old fisherman at Birgham,
told me that many and many a time he had been
out all night with Lord John " burning the water,"
and that when morning came he had seen him lie
down in the bottom of the boat to snatch a few
moments' rest, with the damp rising like steam
from his clothes as the rays of the sun touched
him. His bad health was aggravated by breaking
his leg over a stone wall out hunting near Bowhill,
and from that time he never was quite himself
again. During the constant and violent attacks of
gout to which he was subject he had an odd fancy
for keeping his hands in Lady John's sealskin
muff; and I have often heard her say that the first
sign of his really getting better, was the muff being
thrown to the end of the room.
Both he and Lady John went through much
anxiety during the Crimean War. They had many
relations at the front, among them Lord John's
favourite nephew, Horace Cust. He was killed in
the battle of the Alma. His dog " Romey," a
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 57
yellow Roman spitz, which had been left with Lady
John, was for years her devoted companion, till
laid at last under the great apple-tree at Cawston.
Lord John was very fond of Cawston, and after
giving up Stichill in 1853, they lived there much
more. In 1855, he writes to Mrs Spottiswood :
Cawston,
My dear Mrs Spot, i8/A December 1855.
Don't plume yourself on the belief that Mr Spot's
hot-house saved me from coughs. I caught mine nursing
Alicia's, which was a bad, feverish one. But it never ailed
me beyond barking like a house dog. I am well of it
altogether, and was eight hours on horseback yesterday,
and as fresh as paint to-day, and have not been as free from
gout for an age. It is all stuff saying this place is damp, etc.
It is very comfortable for its kind, and, as I have built up
half the size of the grates, it is a very healthy heat inside.
We had Peregrine Cust and Charley, and I miss them
very much. Charley is to me what poor Horace was in his
way, like my son, and she like my daughter. I hope she
will not marry a fool or a rogue if it can be avoided. Most
women do. I am very sorry about poor Jock. 1 But who is
safe ? We may, any of us, be served the same. God made
us, God takes us.
Tell the Laird I will write to him to-night. My love to
him. Remember me to Mr Black, Mrs Black, mill people,
and poor, poor Mauchline. 2
Yours very affectionately,
JOHN SCOTT.
1 One of the workmen at Spottiswood.
* All people on the place at Spottiswood.
58 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
A year or two later he writes, trying to persuade
her to join them at Cawston, and see it in all its
summer beauty :
To Mrs Spottiswood.
You dreadful woman !
Oh, you dreadful woman !
Why will you never come ? Never will it be so pretty
again. Who knows if I shall be alive one whole year !
You wicked woman ! You sad woman !
You wretched female woman ! Not to come and see a
poor old screw up to his eyes in roses ! ! !
It will mend your maid, and Lady J. Scott's maid will
valet you. And oh, dear ! I really think it would cure me
if you came. I should be so pleased, so flattered, so happy,
if you would come. You would appreciate it. You would
understand it. You would be a jolly companion here, when
most people would be bored. Oh, do come ! Do you want
to cure an old cripple ? Then come. I shall expect to see
you on Monday, and shall send a fly to the station on Monday
night to meet the Caledonian.
We shall soon be off to Scotland, and we could all go
together. Creep-about-clothes, and out of one door into-
another. You would like it. And it would cure me at
once.
Oh pray, pray do, to once pleasure me.
Yours most dutifully and affectionately,
JOHANNES SCOTUS.
2dthjune 1857. Cawston Lodge, Rugby.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 59
Before she had almost time to send an answer
to this pressing invitation, the sorrowful news
reached Cawston of Colonel Spottiswood's sudden
death ; and Lord John again writes :
To Mrs Spottisvuood.
Cawston, Rugby,
\$th July 1857.
My dear Mrs S. ,
Alice is much better. Heat excessive.
She feels the Colonel's death very much.
No letters to-day from Spottiswood, which has made her
fancy every one ill there as a matter of course. Have tele-
graphed to Dr Burt to enquire how you all are. But I
suspect we'll get no answer, as he will be at Spottiswood.
We leave on Friday for Crewe, next day Carlisle, stay
Sunday, and on Monday to Caroline Park. But our plans
are sure to be changed. She has been very poorly indeed,
but has mended better than I ever saw her do ; and, had it
not been for poor Colonel Spottiswood's death, she would
have started by now.
But misfortunes never come single. I can hardly yet make
out about the Colonel's death how it happened, what it
was, or that it is, at all. One thing we do know, that in
Heaven there is one more angel, on earth one sufferer
less.
I hardly ever knew the man so thoroughly respected. Yes,
respect is the word. To "love," to "admire," to "venerate,"
to be " proud of," are words and terms used every day, and
convey, after all, but a limit to an idea. But respect em-
bodies all I felt for that man someone whose goodness
60 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
made you look up to him and down on yourself. It is a very
great loss, and one that is not to be supplied ; because he
filled a place, and that place may now be built up, because
no one can fill it.
But it cannot be doubted that his life hung upon a thread,
so precarious was it, and it required so much more watching
than in ordinary cases is bestowed upon anyone.
When with you he never was allowed to think or act for
himself. All was done for him. He was happy and con-
tented, and undisturbed, and watched for, and acted for.
But life on such terms resolves itself into death on the
smallest provocation.
Kind love to the Laird,
Yours very affectionately,
JOHN SCOTT.
Love to Nell. 1
The Dr Burt of whom Lord John speaks was
not only the Laird's doctor, but the friend and
adviser of the whole family, to whom they turned
in trouble and sorrow as much as in illness. I just
remember him a tall, slight man, with clear-cut,
high-bred features rising above a high collar and a
black-and-white checked tie. He possessed great
tact and sympathy.
Lady John's letters, unlike his, always betray
her longing to get away and be back in Scotland :
My mother.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 6 1
To Mrs Spottiswood.
Cawston,
Wednesday evening, i$th December. (1858.)
My dear Mama,
Lord John continues better, I am happy
to say. I trust he will be up in a day or two, and I hope
we shall very soon be down. I am getting quite restless to
be off. I send you a song I made the other day. 1 The
words cannot be dignified by the name of poetry. They are
a string of names which I daresay you will hardly be able to
get into the tune. It is all about places I like in Cheviot.
Emily Bridgeman Simpson came to-day to call, and after
all it was Lady Lucy's gown that caught fire. She was
moving a little table to the fire, and the back of her flounce
whisked into it. She lay down and rolled, and Lady
Newport, in helping her, caught fire too her scarf. She
dashed it off on the toilet-table, which also caught fire. Lady
Charlotte pulled all Lady Newport's night-clothes off the
horse to smother the flames on her sister, and then ran out
to get something more, not knowing that she, too, had
caught fire. The running fanned the flames. Lord New-
port and a Mr Boughey, who was staying there, rushed in.
Lord Newport put out the flames on Lady Charlotte, and Mr
Boughey carried out Lady Lucy. They not only gave them
quantities of opium, but they were entirely soaked in it ; and
yet the agony was so intense that only once, for a short time,
it dulled the feeling in Lady Lucy. I never heard anything
so horrible as the account of the way they were burnt. It
makes one feel that verse, "Who can dwell with everlasting
burnings." 2
1 "The Bounds o* Cheviot."
2 Lady Lucy and Lady Charlotte Bridgeman both died from
the effects of this terrible accident.
62 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Just as I came down to write this letter to you I found Mr
Wesley Richards sitting here. He had heard Lord John was
ill, and ridden all the way to see how he was, which I think
very kind. I am going to have the Church Lawford dinner
before we start, as I think it will amuse Miss Jean. 7 think
everything a bore and disgusting here. I am so tired of
seeing Lord John lying ill. He certainly has a great deal of
patience : he hardly ever complains.
I have an answer from H. S. to-day. No hope of Wells !
our usual luck. Oh, how I hope we shall be down next week !
My best love to Papa.
Your most affectionate and dutiful Daughter,
A. A. J. S.
November 1859 found Lord and Lady John in
London, for the marriage of Lord Dalkeith and
Lady Louisa Hamilton the last time Lady John
ever set foot in the town she liked so little. From
there they went to Cawston ; and, leaving Lord
John to follow in a day or two, she continued her
journey to Spottiswood, where they were to spend
Christmas. One of his attacks of gout came on ;
but Lady John, not realizing in the least how ill
he was, kept expecting him daily to join her. He
got suddenly worse. She was summoned in haste,
and only reached him a day or two before the end.'
The Duke and Francis Cust were there already,
and did everything in their power to help her.
1 Lord John died 3rd January 1860.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 63
My mother hurried off to her at once, but it was a
terrible time, and her grief was beyond descrip-
tion. In spite of his constant illnesses she never
seems to have realized she might lose him. For
months she stayed on at Cawston, stunned and
heart-broken. The Duke did all he could to
soften the blow and to make as little change in her
outward life as possible. Lord John having died
childless, the Warwickshire property now passed
to the Duke, but Cawston itself remained Lady
John's dower-house, and he left her free to keep
either or both of the Scottish places Kirkbank
and Caroline Park which he had always lent
them. What hurt her keenly, was having to part
with some of the old servants. Jock Scott, Lord
John's fisherman, whom he had taken as a mere
lad, went to my uncle, Lord Haddington, and died
as his pensioner at Longshaw in 1893. He in-
vented the salmon-fly which bears his name.
Robert Bell, Lord John's groom, " the boy whom
he had bought for half-a-crown," ' went to Lord
1 Lord John, once wanting to give a trifle to a poor woman,
said to her in joke, " I will buy this boy of you for half-a-crown,"
putting down the money. Several years afterwards a lad ap-
peared at the stables, saying he was " the boy his Lordship had
bought for half-a-crown," and that he had come to fulfil his side
of the bargain. He turned out a very good groom.
64 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Walter Scott, but eventually returned to Lady
John, and died in her service.
A letter to her mother shows how acutely she
felt these changes, and how bitterly she resented
well-meant but tactless interference :
To Mrs Spottiswood.
Cawston,
\\th July, (i860.)
My dear Mama,
Nina is at church. I could not go. There
is no use trying to express the misery and desolation it is
impossible ; and Mr S. , with his snobbish mind, has driven
Robert Wilson (by the way he expressed his letter) to give up
his place. I wrote in absolute despair to James Black to go
to Kirkbank and see if he could undo what S.'s vulgarity of
mind has done. I told him it was not a right letter when he
showed it me. Of course, he has nothing to do with your
household, and I can see that he has never been used to any
but snobbish ones, not in the least understanding the ways of
a gentlemanlike one, or the way a gentlemanlike mind speaks
to and deals with servants. I feared that from what Lord
John told me. I could hardly bear the sort of way he spoke
to me of our old, faithful servants, of whom he knows and
understands nothing ! He said to me, in speaking of poor
old Thomas, 1 " I'll tell you what I think of him he is just a
daidling body." I looked as cold as I could, but I think his
vulgarity is too deep to see anything. In short, I neither
understand his ideas, his language, or his modes of action,
and I am almost at my wits' end. I sent my letter to Black
1 Their old French chef, who had lived with them many years-
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 65
by a parcel, so he'll get it to-day, and I may hear from him
on Tuesday. He is both kind and sensible, and not a snob.
All you say about Spottiswood is very kind, and I am
very grateful, and hope I shall be a great deal there ; but my
crave is to have something quite my own, where I can work
out of doors at woods, farm, etc., as we did here. I may
perhaps be intended to go on the same here, but I am so
afraid of anything and everything that I don't dare move or
speak, and I cannot take any interest in a garden ; I never
could or did ; it is far too small for me to care the least
about.
My best love to Papa.
Your affectionate, dutiful Daughter,
A. A. JOHN SCOTT.
James Black (the son of Mr Spottiswood's
faithful old steward) succeeded in putting things
right, and Robert Wilson ended his days in peace
at Kirkbank, in company with Alex. Telfer, the
keeper. The latter was a great character. In
after years he always accompanied Lady John to
the Highlands, walking behind her on her expedi-
tions, carrying the basket and trowel, and the
sketch-book, which were her invariable com-
panions. Once at Dunrobin the late Duke of
Sutherland good-naturedly sent him up to Ben
Armine, that he might see a deer-forest. When
he returned, Lady John said, "Well, Alex., what
66 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
did you think of it?" "'Deed, my lady, had I
kenned there was sic a place up here, wad I hae
wasted a' my days doun wi' you by yonder ! " was
the answer.
The affection with which his tenantry regarded
Lord John found expression in the statue which
they erected at Dunchurch to his memory. The
unveiling of the statue, and the feeling displayed
on all sides, gave great though melancholy pleasure
to Lady John.
To Mrs Spottiswood.
Cawston,
$ist August 1867.
The plot thickens. I have a letter from Dalkeith this
morning. He is to be here this afternoon with his father.
Francis and I looked over the address yesterday with the
Committee, and he made a little alteration in it, which I
approved ; so it is gone to Mr Bloxam to be what lawyers
call "engrossed" on vellum, and I have decided (not to be
invidious) that the oldest tenant shall read it.
We had the large picture unpacked and hung up at the end
of the large room ; and it is like himself standing there. The
few who have seen it were so overcome, you would scarcely
think it. Even Stretton, 1 who never shows his feelings,
cried ! The almost adoration every one near here has for it
has not cooled in all these long years for Lord John is over-
powering. It gives me a bewildered feeling to hear and see
1 The old gardener.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 67
it all ; and the enthusiasm is just as if Monday were to bring
him back to us ; but the real truth is that a little paint and
a stone is all that we shall ever see more on earth of Lord
John.
$rd September 1867.
I will begin from the beginning and tell you all about
yesterday. It was a beautiful day. The large room was
cleared out, and a flat wreath of laurel-leaves and flowers
ran along the whole top of the panelling. At the upper end
was a shield Or, with a Bend Azure, the crest on the top.
"A Bellenden " and "Best Riding by Moonlight," and all
round a wreath of flowers and evergreens ; and the whole,
from the top of the shield to the roof, a pyramid of ferns and
gladiolus.
The fireplace was a pyramid of greenhouse plants in pots ;
the chimney-piece entirely covered with hothouse ferns and
flowers. At the lower end of the room, and high up, was
Frain's picture, framed in flat dark ivy, with variegated ivy
wound all over the top, and scarlet gladiolus the whole way
along the middle of the frame. It was quite beautiful ; and
a chaplet of the prettiest flowers hung over it.
We all started about one o'clock, and the tenants met us
at the beginning of Dunchurch. There was a raised place
near the statue for all of us, done with flowers and carpet ;
arches of evergreens and flowers and flags about the town.
Harry Broomfield came on the platform and presented
Address, and read it aloud, and then the Duke made a very
nice speech, after which I asked him to tell them from me
how much I felt their kindness, which he did very well
indeed. Then the Duke, Dalkeith, and Francis went to the
dinner at the Crown, and we came home ; and soon our forty
tenants began to arrive. We received them in the corridor,
dining-room, and library ; and in a little the three gentlemen
68 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
came back from Dunchurch, and the dinner was announced.
It was all excellent.
The Duke sat in the middle of the cross-table, at the top,
with Brierly on one side of him and Harry Broomfield on the
other, and others beyond. Francis sat at the foot of one
table and Dalkeith of the other. Mary, Fanny, 1 and I stood
outside, and out of sight, to hear the speeches. They did
very well. The Duke was terribly tired -afterwards, and had
to go at ten o'clock. I don't think him well, but he was
kindness itself, and said he would not have missed coming
for anything. Dalkeith went this morning, the Gages also.
Francis remains for a day or two to help me to redd up. I
shall start either Thursday or Friday, and be at Spottiswood
the next day.
Lady John kept on Caroline Park as long as old
Scrymgeour, the gardener, lived; and she used to go
constantly to Kirkbank, until the long tramps over
the hills and up the glens of Cheviot became too
much for her. But from the time of Lord John's
death she made Spottiswood more and more her
home ; especially when the death of her brother
Andrew left her the last of that happy band, which
had played there together long ago. The Laird died
in 1866 at the great age of eighty-seven, but with
his mind and his faculties clear and active to the
last. Only a short time before his death Lady
John found him reading Black-wood's Magazine^
1 Lady Mary Gage and her daughter.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 69
with its then close print, quite unconscious that
his spectacles were perched on the top of his head.
He left Spottiswood to my great-grandmother for
her life, and then to Lady John, before letting it
pass to the descendants of his son Andrew. Thus,
though in the course of her long life she saw those
she loved, one by one, taken from her, she never
knew the bitterness of leaving a beloved home,
and of seeing only in dreams the spots that are
dearest on earth. To a nature like hers this would
have been drinking the cup of sorrow to its
bitterest dregs, and this she was spared. To the
last, the wind-swept moors, the rushy fields, and
far-reaching woods of her old home were hers, and
latterly she never left them, except for her annual
journey to the far north and her duty-dictated
visits to Cawston.
Reading over an old letter of hers the other day,
I came on such a characteristic passage. She
wrote from Spottiswood, having just arrived from
Cawston, and on the eve of departure to the
Highlands : " I came from solitude, I arrived to
solitude, and I go to solitude, but lo p&an, I am
in Scotland again ! "
This intense devotion to Scotland was one of
70 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
her strongest feelings. It occurs in her songs over
and over again ; and in every-day life how often
have I heard her say in joke but a joke that
covered a real truth, " I would rather live in a
pig-sty in Scotland than in a palace in England ! "
She was fond, in a way, of Cawston, from its
associations with Lord John, and she did her duty
by her dependents in Warwickshire most gener-
ously and ungrudgingly ; but leaving Scotland to
go there, was. always an effort, and, as it were, a
task she set herself; and, to the last, coming back
to Spottiswood was the greatest joy she knew. I
remember so well her saying once, as we drove
back from Westruther by the Flass road, " Heaven
won't seem Heaven if I don't see those benty
fields and tufts of rushes there ! " Dearly as she
loved both the Highlands and the Cheviots, her
deepest affections were centred in the glens and
streams of Lammermuir.
Next to the love of Scotland came the love of
her own people. Blood and kinship appealed to
her far more strongly than did any ordinary friend-
ship, and this feeling became intensified as years
passed on, till latterly her affections and interests
seldom reached beyond her own and Lord John's
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 71
family circles. For them her affection never
wavered. She loved having us round her and
hated us to leave her. A letter is before me now,
written within a few hours of my going away,
which ends
And now I am writing to you, to say how sorry I am, you
are gone ! but I cannot get the length of the Highland
woman, " Eh ! woman ! woman ! I wish ye 'd never corned !"
The Baillies of Mellerstain and the Pringles of
Stichill were almost the only great friends that
were not also relations, but they had been
friends and neighbours from childhood, and to
the last Lady John and Lady Aberdeen kept up
the old intimacy, which only ended with Lady
John's death. She made an exception also for
the Sutherland family; but the Duchess's father,
"Cromartie," had been like a brother to herself
and Lord John, and the Duchess and her children
always called her "Aunt Alicia." Till troubles
gathered thick round Dunrobin, and everything
became so changed, she went there every August
on her way back from Caithness. She enjoyed
those visits and the people she met, though at
first she was apt to be very silent and g'en'ee with
strangers. She was very shy in general society
72 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
curiously so, considering how much cleverer and
more original she was than ninety-nine people out
of a hundred. But after Lord John's death she
felt very forlorn at going anywhere by herself, and
shrank into her shell. As long as he was there to
back her up, nobody had enjoyed society more, or
shone in it more brilliantly ; and to the last, in her
home, with her own people round her, no one
could be more amusing. She had the keenest
sense of humour, the readiest wit, and delighted in
a passage of arms, even though the laugh might go
against herself. She never resented a fair attack,
but she generally had the best of it. She was a
clever caricaturist, and never tired of making fun
of any subject that hit her fancy, till her victims
occasionally accused her of being merciless. No-
thing pleased her more than a mystification or a
practical joke, even at her own expense, and she
would be the first to laugh at it. To children she
was half fairy godmother, half the most delightful
of companions. As long as they were plucky, and
spoke the truth, she never minded what they did.
She had no small fidgets about torn clothes, wet
feet, getting into mischief, or being late for lessons.
No wonder we adored her, and thought going out
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 73
with her the greatest of treats. She was as keen
about everything as we were, and her wonderful
imagination made her stories unlike any others.
She never talked down to children, but always took
for granted that whatever she was interested in, we
cared about too. She was very fond of repeating
poetry, and many a speech from Shakespeare or
from Pope's Iliad we learnt from her lips. Then
she had a way of originating the most delightful
surprises. At Caroline Park, a message would
arrive mysteriously that a ship had been wrecked
in the Firth, and its cargo washed up on the rocks
below the house. Off we would dash, to find that
the rocks were indeed strewn with every sort of
treasure books, work-cases, knives, and curiosities
of every kind. Another day the report would be
that Granton Castle was held by robbers ; and
when we had fought our way in, and dispersed the
enemy (her servants disguised), it was to find that
in their hasty flight they had left untold treasures
in the vaults and dungeons. I don't quite know
how much we believed it all, but there was a hazy
air of romance about the whole thing, and the gifts
received in this way gave far more pleasure than
most people's humdrum presents.
74 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
III.
My first recollections of Lady John begin soon
after Lord John's death. I see her walking down
the Lady's Walk at Spottiswood, with her scarlet
shawl pinned closely over her shoulders, and wear-
ing doeskin gloves with vandyked gauntlets, copied
from a hawking glove of Queen Mary's. The out-
ward signs of mourning said very little to her : she
never wore crape or a widow's cap ; and, though
her gown might very likely be black, she wore any
shawl that happened to be handy. She could not
bear the idea that, because anyone was dead, they
were no longer part of her life, and must be shut
out of sight ; and she never wilfully did anything
to break the continuity between the days that had
been and the days that were now. The feeling
that the last page was turned and the book put
away on the shelf, was abhorrent to her, and she
would make any excuse to avoid it. Whenever
Lord John had been away from her on any of his
cruises, she had been in the habit of writing journal
letters to him, though often he never got them till
his return ; and after his death, as long as she kept
a journal at all, she went on keeping it in the same
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 75
form. At Cawston his hats and sticks lay in the
hall for forty years after his death, just as they had
lain during his lifetime; and at Spottiswood his
dressing-room remained exactly as he had left it r
till the remodelling of the upper storey altered
those rooms. But there was no morbidness in
this clinging to the past : she would give away
anything of his to us, or to anyone else to whom
it might be a pleasure ; and, though her mother's
rooms at Spottiswood were kept ready, as if she
might come back at any moment, it never pre-
vented her from letting us use them. She always
talked freely of those who were gone, quoted their
sayings, and was as much guided by their likings
and approval as if they were still here.
As years crept on, the past became more and
more to her, and she loved to dwell 6n it and to
tell us stories of old days ; and then, as the end
drew nearer, more and more she looked forward to
the meeting with those she had loved and lost long
long ago. Non amittitur, sed pr&mittitur, were the
words she had inscribed over my grandmother's
picture ; and on the sun-dial, which she placed in
the garden at Cawston in memory of Lord John,
was the motto, United in Time; Parted in Time;
76 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
To be reunited when Time shall be no more. These
words express exactly what she felt. All through
her poems, and especially in those of the last few
years, the same thought recurs. Religion had
never been an empty form to her, or any of hers.
Her own faith was warm and strong. She had
been brought up, and always remained, a member
of the Episcopal Church of Scotland, but at
Spottiswood she went regularly to the Established
Church at Westruther. She was particular that her
household should attend church regularly, and a
cart used to be provided on Sundays for any of the
older women on the place, for whom the two-mile
walk to Westruther was too far. But there was no
narrowness in her views, and any English servants
were always sent at Christmas and Easter to the
Episcopal Church at Kelso. She herself always
spent Christmas and Easter at Dalkeith or Bow-
hill, wherever her brother-in-law, the Duke, might
be. After his death she came to us for Christmas.
Then latterly she never left Spottiswood, except
for her yearly visit to Cawston, or for the holiday
in the Highlands, which was her great delight.
From 1870 the year that she lost her mother
to the summer preceding her own death, she went
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 77
every year to Thurso. Most people think it an
uninteresting little town. Not a tree relieves the
flat, cultivated country lying round it ; but the air
suited her. She loved bathing in the strong salt
seas of the Pentland Firth, and she delighted in
the bold coast-line. Every summer her sketch-
books were filled with fresh views of Scrabster,
Dunnet Head, and Sinclair Bay, her favourite
resorts. In the Thurso fly she explored the
country from Duncansby Head in the east to
Cape Wrath in the far west, sleeping in the little
inns on her way. The many prehistoric remains
that are scattered about Caithness interested her
greatly, and I don't believe there was a Pict's
house within twenty miles of Thurso she had not
visited.
To Miss A ugusta Spottiswood. ( 1 88 1 . )
There is a farm some few miles from Thurso, of which
Miss Sinclair of Forss is proprietor. I heard of something
curious there, and went to make enquiries. The farmer's
son showed me a large raised piece of ground at the top of a
field, not at all amounting to a Tumulus, but looking like
some acres of ground higher than the top of the field. He
said that the year before, a horse and cart were being led
across this, when suddenly the horse's legs went deep down,
and so did the cart wheels. When they extricated them,
78 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
they had a dig to see what had sunk, and they found that
some large flag-stones had slipped aside, which covered a
hole, which turned out to be a staircase. They cleared out
ten or eleven steps, and saw the entrance to a passage, but
did not go in for fear of bad air. All the lower part of this
raised ground they found to be an immense kitchen midden.
They said they had taken several hundred cartloads to
manure the land, and in carting the stuff out, they had found
a curious stone weapon, which somebody stole, a massive
gold ring, which the farmer's wife was wearing, and a " very
clear kind of stone, the size and shape of an egg," which the
farmer's son gave to a friend of his who had gone to New
Zealand! every one of these things being the property of
Miss Sinclair, to whom they had never mentioned the
place. They said they could not afford to examine it farther,
but if I liked to do it they gave me free leave, and would get
me workmen. They dug off the turf and stones to show me
the staircase, and I think it is most curious.
To Miss IVarrender.
Thurso, 2%th July 1883.
I got Mr Joass * to come at last, on Wednesday night,
and we began the exploration of Oust early on Thursday
morning. We cleared out the steps of the underground
place. There were nine steps, then a broken piece, and
then another step cut out of the rock. The stair was wind-
ing, and the walls most beautifully built. The chamber it
led to was very small ; eleven feet four down. There were
some large flat stones near it which we lifted ; when, behold,
there was another staircase, wider and longer than that in
1 The minister of Golspie, a noted antiquary.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 79
the first place. It also was built beautifully, with the sort
of roof over the stairs you see at Skaill. It led to a large
chamber, fifteen feet under ground. The only things found
were bones deer's and all other sorts, deer's horns, broken
pottery, a quern, some rubber stones, etc. We were there
again all day yesterday. We found two semi-circular walls,
which made us sure it was a Broch ; but suddenly they came
close together and stopped ; so Mr Joass cannot make it out.
He was obliged to go away to-day, which is a great pity. I
wished them to open a part of the surface near the two stair-
cases, which I thought looked promising ; and under it we
found a cist, with part of a human skull and bones. Also
they have begun to discover a low vaulted passage from the
outside. It is very curious, and very exciting.
From Thurso she went many times to Orkney,
and twice to Shetland ; and the interest she took
in these far-away islands showed itself in very
practical ways. Having been told that the Fair
Islanders suffered greatly under the "Truck"
system, she fitted out and gave them a schooner,
the Deast7, big enough to carry their fish to the
markets at Kirkwall and Lerwick. Many years
after, I heard that, thanks to the independent foot-
ing on which this gift had placed them, the old
tyranny had been swept away, and much happier
times had come to the Fair Isle.
There being no fences in Orkney, and very few
in the more inland districts of Caithness, the sheep
8o BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
and cattle are herded by the women and children ;
the women generally with their knitting in their
hands, the children doing nothing. Having
noticed this, Lady John began tying up packets
of books generally a story-book with some hymns
and devotional readings in large print and
taking them out in the carriage with her. As
she drove along, she threw them from the window
to these patient watchers. The books were dearly
prized ; and children would come running from
far at the sight of her carriage, in hopes of a
packet. I don't think she ever went into a cottage
without leaving a book of some sort behind her,
to say nothing of other gifts. No one was more
generous to the poor, or more thoughtful in her
generosity ; and though her own dependents came
first, her charity reached very far, and went into
all sorts of unexpected by-ways. She had a great
pity for idiots, or for any whose deformities of
mind and body set them, as it were, aside from
their fellow-creatures, and she had no personal
shrinking from them. Had it not been for the
remonstrances of her bailiff, she was quite prepared
to give a house, and indeed had written the letter
offering it, to the poor man with the elephant head
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 81
who died, eventually, in the London Hospital, and
whose story woke her liveliest pity. Had he come,
she would have visited him as regularly as she did
all her poorer neighbours.
It is very difficult in a slight sketch like this to
give any idea of her wit and originality, and of the
amusing things she said and did, without conveying
a wrong impression. Related by themselves, such
stories would suggest great eccentricity, whereas in
their proper setting, as part of her daily life, they
were the expression of a keen sense of humour,
joined to a strong and vigorous personality. She
was not eccentric. She was too honest, too straight-
forwardly simple, and too dignified ; but she held
decided views on most subjects, and she always
had the courage of her opinions. I never met any
one more indifferent to the opinion of the world in
general. She had no patience with shams or affec-
tations of any kind ; but though her own vigorous
health sometimes made her hard on what she
called "mollycoddling," nobody could be kinder
or more thoughtful in any real illness or suffering.
Strangers often thought her alarming; but that
was partly caused by her own shyness. Those who
were not afraid of her, got on with her at once.
82 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
She had one quality which would have marked
her out from anyone else, had it not been so
peculiarly a part of herself, that one ceased to notice
it. For want of a better name I must call it
"good taste," though that does not convey half
of what I mean. It was a peculiar sense of pro-
portion, or of the fitness of things, which showed
itself in every action. If she laid out a garden, if
she planned a walk winding through a wood, if she
designed the setting for a jewel, or the frame of a
picture even down to a little thing like choosing
wall paper, in every instance she had the knack
of hitting on exactly the right thing. Her ideas
were so original, that the same result would never
have been attained by anyone else ; and yet when
the thing was finished, you could not imagine its
existence in any other or better form. The curious
part of it was that she could so impress her ideas
on others that, with very little apparent exertion
on her side, she got exactly the effect she wanted.
The same sense of the fitness of things followed
her everywhere. She never made a mal a propos
remark; and though her dress might be old-
fashioned, and very simple in kind, her shawl was
drawn round her shoulders, and her little black
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 83
ribbon bow knotted beneath her chin, with a dis-
tinction which belonged to her alone.
Born and brought up amongst those, to whom
loyalty to the Stuarts had meant exile and personal
loss, she was a Jacobite to the backbone. As a
child, she had talked with those who had talked
with Prince Charles face to face ; and all the ardent
loyalty of her nature went out to her exiled kings.
The natural turn of her mind, as well as her early
associations, led her to dwell on the past ; and her
imagination reconstructed it so vividly, that it
was the same feeling of personal loyalty to the
Prince which impelled her grandfather to risk
everything in his service, that with her found voice
in her songs. All her life she had treasured up
everything connected with the Royal House
pictures, prints, books, and personal relics. By a
fortunate chance, and thanks to my uncle, Lord
Haddington's intervention, Lord John and she
had been able to buy, in Rome, jewels and arms
which had belonged to the three last Stuart kings,
from the Abbati family, to whom they had been
left by Henry IX. Amongst these were Prince
Charles's wedding ring, also his father's, as well as
other personal souvenirs of the greatest interest
84 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
and value. It seems almost paradoxical to say
that, with all this ardent devotion to the Stuarts,
and hatred of their Hanoverian supplanters, the
Queen had no more loyal subject, were it not that
the Queen herself was almost as strong in her
Jacobite leanings as Lady John.
Her love for things of the past existed from
her childhood, when she used to collect and write
down the traditionary songs and stories told her
in the cottages at Spottiswood. Many an old
song and tune were thus rescued from oblivion.
Old customs lingered under her protecting care
long after they had disappeared everywhere else.
The corn was always cut with a shearing hook at
Spottiswood, and I can even remember having seen
it threshed with flails in the big barn. I have
already spoken of her love for archaeology. In the
Eagle Hall she had gathered together a good col-
lection of local antiquities from clay urns and flint
arrow-heads down to beautifully wrought bronze
axes and spear-heads. The knowledge that she
would always reward the finder of anything curious,
saved many a thing which would otherwise have
been tossed aside and lost ; and kept up the
interest of the country-side in antiquities, long
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 85
before local societies for that purpose were thought
of. Her memory was stored with sayings she had
picked up from the old folk in Lammermuir. " I
wuss ye may be Laird o' your word " (I wish you
may have the power to do as you say.) " It 's dune
'or ye bade " (anticipating one's wish by excessive
willingness and alertness.) "If March comes in
wi' an Ether's (Adder's) head, it will gang out wi'
a Paycock's tail," were among those she constantly
quoted ; while her favourite motto, " Haud fast by
the past" expresses her better than pages of
description.
She was a great reader, and blessed with a
retentive memory; but she was by no means
omnivorous in her choice. History and travels
were what she liked best, especially travels in the
Arctic regions, or in the East. Then came scien-
tific books, particularly any dealing with her
favourite subject, archaeology; also books on
gypsies, folk-lore, superstitions, or any of the
curious by-ways of knowledge. She rarely read
a novel, unless it was historical; and then it
required to be written by some one of the same
way of thinking as herself. When, by a rare
chance, she did take a fancy to a novel, she liked
86 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
it very much. If she was tired, or not well, she
would refresh herself with one of Sir Walter's ; and
to the end of her life she went back to the Waverley
Novels with fresh and unending delight. The
Antiquary was perhaps her favourite ; and she
often quoted old Elspeth's death scene as one of
the finest pieces of tragedy that had ever been
written. She was a great lover of poetry, and knew
so much by heart, and cared for so many different
poems, that it is difficult to say she liked one
special poet better than another, though I think
Byron gave her most pleasure. Few or none of
the later poets of the nineteenth century appealed
to her. She found them obscure and confused ;
and even when their thoughts were beautiful, their
language and rhythm did not fulfil her idea
of poetry. She liked things to be simple and
direct. That is what her own songs are. All her
life it had come easy to her to clothe her thoughts
in verse. Her own and her sister's copy-books
were full of childish songs and poems ; and in
later life, as will be seen by the verses in this
volume, poetry was often the outlet for her deepest
and strongest feelings. Her verse, like her music,
was as spontaneous as the song of the bird on the
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 87
bough. " It came to me and I wrote it down,"
was generally her answer when asked about any
special song.
No one was more humble about her own per-
formances. She was so unfeignedly pleased if any-
one liked a song she had made, and she was
always willing to give it away. Her dislike of
publicity was the reason so few were printed in her
lifetime. Annie Laurie appeared anonymously in
1838, without either her knowledge or permission.
Lady John always thought the air and words had
been stolen when she sent her music-book to be
re-bound. The song was attributed to various
people; and it was only when after the Crimean
War, she gave the MS., with several others, to
Lonsdale, to publish for the benefit of the widows
and orphans of soldiers, that the real author was
known. Some more were published later for
another charity; but at her death most of her
songs were still in the original MS. She copied
with her own hand a complete set for the late Lord
Napier and Ettrick. They had been friends for
many many years, and his last letter, written only
a few months before his death, shows how he
valued that friendship.
88 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
From Lord Napier and Ettrick.
Thirlestane, Selkirk,
My Dear Alicia, ist August. (1898.)
I am not fond of functions and speeches, and
now I am old and "failed," and such things are a burden
to me. But the people in this country are very kind
and good to Nina and myself, and so I make an effort to
help them in that way when I can. So I undertook the
inauguration of the Shepherd's Memorial, and got through
with some pains, and was very glad when it was over. But
now it is all turned to honour and delight. I do assure you
that I would rather please you than any one living in the
world, and you have said that you were pleased. I did not
know that you regarded the Shepherd's works with so much
favour. I wish he were alive to know it. But perhaps
he did know it when still alive. I remember when "Cam'
ye by Athole " was a favourite in the Scottish Drawing-
room, but how few knew that it was written by the poor
Shepherd ! " When the Kye comes Hame " belonged rather
to the cottage or the farmer's ingle. "Lock the door,
Lariston," is also a gallant ditty. I was glad to find not
long since that Minto knew it by heart, and I think one of
his boys is called Lariston ! That reminds me of a freedom
that I have taken with your name, and that I would not have
ventured to mention, were it not for your flattering notice of
my speech. Not long since, George Elliot published an
Elliot history, a handsome family record of the name and
race. Arthur asked me to review it in the Edinburgh,
which I did for the sake of the old name, and the house in
which I have had a cordial welcome for three generations.
In my article I had occasion to notice Miss Jean, and, in
connection with her, the lovely line of Scottish ladies who
have cherished the National muse. That line concludes
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 89
with your dear sister and yourself. You have never seen my
article, for you do not read the "Blue and the Yellow,"
which the Ettrick Shepherd banned in a forgotten song. But
if the subject has any interest for you, you will find my
article in the Edinburgh Review of April last. 1 I would
like to have said a great deal more, but I was afraid if you
saw it you might be displeased, for I know you are averse to
publicity and literary fame.
The hills and the trees were never so lovely as they are
this year.
We have had a great deal of anxiety and distress in these
last months. But we are now more at rest. Nina has often
been ill, but is not ill now ; and we hope to spend the
coming winter in Italy.
Accept once more the affectionate regards of one who has
been attached to you since the year 1832 66 years !
NAPIER AND ETTRICK.
Many years ago Lady John made a very com-
plete collection of old Scotch songs and tunes for
her brother-in-law, the Duke ; probably the most
complete collection that exists. He was as much
interested in everything of the kind as was she.
They had many tastes in common ; and from the
first days of her marriage she found in him the
1 " Last of all come two sisters, representatives of the House
of Spottiswoode, in the Merse, known of old for loyalty and
learning. But of Lady John Scott and Lady Hume Campbell
it may be remarked that they joined the faculties of poetical and
musical composition with the gift of song, endowments never
before united in the person of any one of their predecessors."
" A Scottish Border Clan." Edinburgh Review, April 1898.
90 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
kindest of brothers-in-law, and the most patient of
friends. Lord John and the Duke were so fond
of each other that, while Lord John lived, he and
Lady John spent nearly as much time at Bowhill
and Drumlanrig, as in their own home. When
Lord John was dying, the Duke hurried to
Cawston, and took everything on his own shoulders,,
so as to help Lady John in every possible way.
From that hour he was the person she always
turned to for advice and help on every emergency.
He died at Bowhill in 1884, after a short illness,
brought on by a chill. Lady John was then at
Spottiswood ; and with her usual dread of giving
trouble or being in the way, refused to go and stay
at Bowhill. At the same time she was too anxious
and unhappy to sit at home waiting for telegrams :
so day after day, in that cold, sad March, she used
to drive to Bowhill, getting there about midday
and then setting off again at night, after dinner, on
her twenty-five mile drive home.
To Miss Watrender.
Spottiswood, 12(A March 1884.
Half-past ten (p.m.)
I have just come from Bowhill. The Duke is a shade
better. I am going back at half-past seven to-morrow morn-
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 91
ing. They wished me to remain, but I thought it better to
come home at night there are so many there and Henry
and Walter are coming to-morrow. Charlie came yesterday.
It is such a mercy that Gull can stay till Tuesday. What-
ever some people may think of him as a doctor, they say he
is the best nurse in the world ; makes the Duke more com-
fortable than anyone, and thinks of so many things that he
likes, and that add to his comfort.
Bowhill, i$th March.
I came here very early, in time for the Morning Service.
I fear there is no hope. Gull, I see, has none, nor Dalkeith,
nor Schomberg. It was so sad. At the Sacrament, it was
taken out to the Duke and his daughters ; and all, but
Dalkeith and Charlie who were with him, joined in the
Chapel, tho' we could only imagine him taking it with us.
I will write to-morrow morning from Spottiswood.
Spottiswood, iqth March.
I did not leave Bowhill till between seven and eight last
night, and I was a little happier. I thought Gull's last
report, if anything, better ; and Schomberg, who had been
sitting with the Duke, thought him stronger than he ex-
pected. Henry and Walter had not come, and we hope so
very much they will not, Henry, especially, who is not yet
by any means recovered from his second attack of pleurisy ;
he would be laid up to a certainty, and no one else could do
any good. Victoria, Margaret, and Mary, Dalkeith and
Charles, are always some of them with him, and the
Duchess is perpetually in and out, and sitting with him.
They wish me not to come home at night, but I am sure it is
better, and it does not tire me at all. My cold is gone, and
92 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
I cannot think of anything, but this terrible illness of the
Duke.
" When the mind 's free,
The body's delicate ; the tempest in my mind
Does from my senses take all feeling else,
But what beats there."
I shall stay at home to-day, unless some summons should
come ; and go back to Bowhill to-morrow.
Spottiswood, i6tA March,
I came back last night. There was no change. I went
to see him yesterday ; he is dreadfully thin, but not changed
(I thought) otherwise. We had a very short service just
before luncheon, not out of the Prayer-book, but prayers
especially for the Duke, which was a comfort. Henry came,
and is not the worse, I am glad to say ; and his wife came to
take care of him. Louisa Dalkeith came also, and John to
travel down with her. Dalkeith looks utterly worn out, with
grief. Margaret looked a little better yesterday. I shall go
there again early to-morrow. I cannot rest away from Bow-
hill ; but by coming back at night, I can do things that are
wanted here. A letter from any one of you is just the small
drop of comfort in my day.
The Duke died on the i6th of March, a date of
fateful significance in her life's story her mother's
birthday, her own wedding day, and the day on
which she herself was laid to rest.
Besides the grief it caused her, the Duke's
death was a great loss in every way. He had
never been too busy to answer her letters by the
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 93
next post, or to go into any question that was
worrying her; and, all alone as she was, with
the cares of a big property on her hands, she
constantly needed help. She was too imagina-
tive to be practical ; and, in spite of her native
shrewdness, she was never a good woman of busi-
ness. Her great kindness of heart, and her
dislike to think badly of anyone she had known
for a long time, made it easy to deceive her ; and
though she could be very masterful in her manage-
ment, and was always determined to have things as
she liked them, she was often taken in, and even
robbed. After the Duke's death she leaned more
on Colonel Gust's advice than on any other ; but
she was very independent, and generally settled
things for herself.
Her days at Spottiswood were always full.
After breakfast she interviewed her various under-
lings bailiff, keeper, grieve, etc. Then there was
always work of some kind waiting for her out-of-
doors : either plantations that required thinning,
or (after the big "blow-down" of '81) woods that
needed re-planting, crops and stock to inspect for
she always had two farms in her own hands, and
endless poor or sick people to visit. Twice a year
94 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
she went through the cottages belonging to every
farm on the estate ; and the way she remembered
the people, their moves, and their different his-
tories and relationships, was extraordinary. To
her own people round Spottiswood she was the
kindest of mistresses, and the pleasantest of neigh-
bours, sitting for hours by their firesides talking
over all sorts of mutual interests. Hardly a day
passed in later years that she could not be seen,
wrapped in her red shawl, and followed by her pet
deer " Luath " which she had brought as a fawn
from Dunrobin, wending her way to the Mill or to
Eastside. Weather made very little difference to
her. She enjoyed the wind and the rain dashing
in her face ; and till she was forbidden to run the
risk of catching bad colds, never thought of staying
indoors.
I never knew anyone who loved the open air so
entirely. Till quite within the last few years of her
life she always breakfasted out of doors whenever
it was possible generally in a summer-house in
the garden. She once had a very narrow escape
there. The lamp beneath the coffee upset, and
the blazing spirits-of-wine fell on a floor made of
little round sections of fir-wood, very dry, and
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 95
very inflammable. She was pinned in behind a
a heavy table, and quite alone ; but with the
greatest coolness, she poured the hot milk on the
flames and put them out ; and only afterwards
discovered a big hole scorched in her dress.
What she loved doing was to start for a long day
on the hills, driving so far, then walking over
rough bits, perhaps exploring a glen too steep and
narrow for the carriage, then rejoining it later,
having a pic-nic tea, and never minding what time
of night she got home again. In this way she had
been over the whole of Lammermuir and the Moor-
foot Hills from Spottiswood, and the Cheviots
from Kirkbank; but the following extracts from
letters to her mother give a better idea of these
expeditions, and her delight in them, than any
words of mine.
To Mrs Spottiswood.
Kirkbank, 2jth May 1868.
I always meant to have Walter. 1 No other post-boy
knows the Cheviots as he does, and can climb over the hills
between one road and another ; and no springs but those of
his Clarence would stand the tracks he follows. He arrived
last night, and I mean to look into some camps off Rule
Water. I have generally gone right up Rule Water, and
1 Walter Park, the old Post-boy at Whiteburn.
96 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
out to the hills beyond, but I mean to turn off to the west at
Bedrule Mill to-day ; and I know of two towers and three
camps up there. Then I intend to come down off the hills
upon the other side of Ruberslaw ; and if it is a place that is
allowed to be seen (I shall ask at the Lodge), I want to
drive through Cavers and have a look at it, as I never was
close up at it, only having seen it riding into Liddesdale,
the Wolfelee road, formerly with Lordjohn. If the wind
goes down a little, I shall very likely go to the top of
Ruberslaw, to see the old station there, which I suppose to
be aboriginal, and like that on the Dunion.
28th.
Nothing can prevent my having been on the topmost peak
of Ruberslaw, for I was there yesterday. A very long, steep,
craggy pull it is from the Wells Avenue, but the view is so
beautiful it is worth the trouble. I found the old camp and
castles I wanted, on the Rule Water, and I once more
walked through Wells, which I still think is about the
prettiest place in the whole south of Scotland. The Rule
Water is lovely from one end to the other, such fine natural
wood and rocks. The trees at Wells are magnificent, and
look even larger than I remember them. It is no ex-
aggeration to say the oaks, beech, ash, and sycamore are
gigantic ! Such a straight avenue of hugh beech, and such
splendid avenues of lime ! and then, that lovely bowling-
green ! I had a look at a curious old place of Lord Sinclair's.
"Green Binns." I had ridden past it before, but that was
all. An old tall white house, something like Blair, in a glen
three times as deep and precipitous as Carolside, the whole
banks covered with immense fine old trees ; only a farmer
living in it ! Then we went round by Kirkton, and I got to
Cavers, which I had a great wish to go through, for the sake
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 97
of the good Lord James, the Black Douglas, etc. etc. They
said we might go, so we did. Everything pales after Wells,
but it is a very pretty place too, and there is a great deal of
large fine wood, and a beautiful look from the house down a
straight avenue to Pendheugh, but it is all neglected and un-
tidy. Why in the world is it that trees grow large every-
where but in Berwickshire ? How I wish you had been of
the drive yesterday ; you would have admired it all so much,
and we had good roads to drive on. What warm, beautiful
weather it is.
2nd June 1868.
I thought I would give myself one day more in the hills, to
make up the three. I had the greatest wish to find those
Druidical remains that Francis and I failed in two years ago.
So I drove to Kirk Newton, and there Mr Thomson, the
farmer (he used to have Mindrum), came up to me, and I
asked him about the Druids' Circle. He said he knew of
none ; and it must be the remains on Yavering Bell. None
of the people we asked knew anything of it, so we drove on
to Old Yavering, where I got out, and sent the carriage back
to Kirk Newton. I saw the remains of the Palace of the old
Kings of Northumberland, now built into a herd's house ;
and then walked up Yavering Burn, which is very pretty,
and all blazing with whin and broom on the banks. I had,
as usual, Alex, for my protector, and Di. for decorum. l We
walked right to the top of Yavering Bell, a magnificent hill,
and covered with most curious remains. If you can fancy
a gigantic Harefaulds, it is that. The wall of stones is not
less than a mile round, at the crown of the hill, and all full
of hut circles, and the great area inside is a perfect town of
hut circles, quite clear and distinct. You see over the
1 Alex. Telfer, her keeper ; and Diana, old Robert Wilson's
daughter.
G
98 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
whole country. I saw Ford, and Flodden, and Copeland, and
Ewart, and all the North Road places one knows so well.
The whole S.E. side of the hill is one mass of hut circles,
ramparts, walls, and mounds. Still, this was not the Druids'
circles I had hoped to find. We walked over the next hill,
and came down on the great wide, beautiful valley of the
Colledge Water. All the rocky, craggy hills on each side
are a straggling forest of natural wood, but such natural
wood ! Miles and miles of immense, old, twisted, gnarled
thorns, all white with blossom ; and some a mass of old ivy,
with stems like the trunk of a tree. Every now and then a
great holly ; and among and between these beautiful trees,
hut circles, old ramparts, etc. Whin, a perfect blaze of gold,
growing in great bushes like trees, more than double one's
height ; beautiful forests of fern of all kinds ; wild flowers in
quantities. Then every now and then a little steep, deep
glen, with a burn dashing over the rocks, runs up among the
great rocky sides of the hills, the banks all dotted over with
huge old oaks and thorns. On the opposite hill is part of
the great old Forest of Cheviot, some hundred acres of old,
natural oak-wood stretching to the top crags of the hill.
Well, we were threading our way down the steep hill-side,
among the old thorns, when, looking downwards, what
should I see but something like this [rough sketch] in
the distance, and I knew I had found my long-coveted
Druid's Circle. We started off for it, and I found a most
curious Druidical place two circles (like Avebury) and a
huge oblong square taking both of them in. Oh, dear !
how delighted I was ! I drew it, and made Alex, step the
square, and it was nearly 376 yards.
At last we went down to the Linns of the Colledge Water
such rocks and waterfalls and deep, dark pools quite
beautiful, and swarming with trout. As far as you can see
the winding of this lovely glen up among the hills, you see
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 99
the remains of the old Primeval Forests of Cheviot. How
I wish you could see it. I never yet had such a beautiful
walk. It was getting late, so we had to go down the
Colledge Water to join the carriage at Kirk Newton. I had
to go in for a minute and do the civil to Mrs Thomson.
They were very kind to me, and she had a cup of tea ready
for me. I got home to dinner here at eleven o'clock ! and I
can write no more till afternoon, as the post is going, but I
thought I must tell you about this charming day. I will
write by the afternoon's post on all sublunary matters.
One never knew in what unexpected part of the
country one might meet Lady John driving in the
Whiteburn postchaise. with old Walter Park riding
postilion. This was her favourite way of travelling.
She felt perfectly independent, as, whenever occa-
sion required, she could pick up a fresh pafr of
horses at the nearest inn ; and I have constantly
known her get over fifty or sixty miles of country
before reaching home. These long drives never
tired her. Whatever the time of year, she always
took her sealskin muff 1 and a sketch-book with her.
1 Her sealskin muff so worn, that it had become a golden-
brown was very characteristic of her. She was never without
it. I remember her once leaving it behind her in "Queen
Helen's " house at Yetholm. We had hardly settled ourselves
by "Queen Esther's "fire her next visit, when the rival
Gypsy Queen burst in like a whirlwind, flung the muff in her
face, saying, " Here, Scatterbrains, here is your beautiful
muff! " and vanished ; much to Lady John's amusement.
ioo BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
She drew very cleverly, and, though her sketches
were often little more than a few strokes of the
pencil and a dash of colour, they always recalled
the spirit of the place. Both she and Lord John
had the habit of illustrating their letters with
rough pen-and-ink drawings, Lord John's being
always most amusing caricatures.
A year or two before her death she sprained her
ankle very badly, and from that time she walked
with two sticks. Otherwise, considering her great
age, she was wonderfully active. She never would
give in. Her rooms were at the top of the house,
up seven flights of steep stairs, but nothing would
induce her to let herself be carried up. To the
last few days of her life she was up at seven every
morning enjoying her cold bath, on which in
winter she often boasted she had to break the ice.
Her old age was full of dignity. She was very
brave and very uncomplaining. Her spirit was
keen and alert as ever; so that the trial of not
being able to go here and there, and walk about
as she had been used to do, must have been very
great ; but she seldom spoke of it, and she never
murmured. In the same way, if she was ill, she
bore it in silence. When the war broke out in
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 101
1899 she followed its fortunes with the deepest
interest, but with many forebodings. She remem-
bered too many former wars in South Africa not to
realize the gravity of the struggle. It brought a
great sorrow to her in General Wauchope's death.
She had always been very fond of him ; and of the
younger generation of cousins he was the one
most like her in ideas with the same intense
devotion to Scotland and his home. She rejoiced
when Lord Roberts was sent out : he was the only
soldier of modern times for whom she had any real
admiration. All her military enthusiasms went
back to the Duke of Wellington, or to the heroes
of the mutiny ; and she was generally inclined to
compare the present unfavourably with the past.
The early days of 1900 found her wonderfully
well, but, as she was apt after the slightest chill to
develop a bad cough, the doctor kept her indoors
as much as possible. It was a very cold spring,
and in the beginning of March influenza broke out
at Spottiswood. It ran through the house. She
caught it, and, owing to her great age, she had not
strength to throw it off. She was only ill a few
days. On Friday the gth of March she was still in
her sitting-room. Early on Monday the i2th she
passed peacefully away; and on the sixty-fourth
anniversary of her wedding-day, in the midst of a
blinding snowstorm, we laid her at rest in the Old
Kirk at Westruther.
MARGARET WARRENDER.
April
Westruther Kirk
PLACES
DURISDEER *
WE'LL meet nae mair at sunset, when the weary
day is dune,
Nor wander hame thegither, by the lee licht o' the
mune !
I'll hear your step nae longer amang the dewy
corn,
For we'll meet nae mair, my bonniest, either at eve
or morn.
The yellow broom is waving, abune the sunny brae,
And the rowan berries dancing, where the sparkling
waters play.
1 " Durisdeer was a place at Drumlanrig that I always had
a great fancy for. I made the song, I daresay, a year or two
after I was married" (Letter from Lady John to Lord Napier).
105
106 DURISDEER
Tho' a' is bright and bonnie, it's an eerie place to
me,
For we'll meet nae mair, my dearest, either by
burn or tree.
Far up into the wild hills, there's a kirkyard auld
and still,
Where the frosts lie ilka morning, and the mists
hang low and chill,
And there ye sleep in silence, while I wander here
my lane,
Till we meet ance mair in Heaven, never to part
again !
O MURMURING WATERS
O MURMURING waters !
Have ye no message for me ?
Ye come from the hills of the west,
Where his step wanders free.
Did he not whisper my name ?
Did he not utter one word ?
And trust that its sound o'er the rush
Of thy streams might be heard.
O murmuring waters !
The sounds of the moorlands I hear,
The scream of the her'n and the eagle,
The bell of the deer.
107
io8 O MURMURING WATERS
The rustling of heather and fern,
The shiver of grass on the lea,
The sigh of the wind from the hill,
Have ye no voice for me ?
O murmuring waters !
%
Flow on, ye have no voice for me
Bear the wild songs of the hills
To the depths of the sea.
Bright stream from the founts of the west,
Rush on, with thy music and glee.
O to be borne to my rest
In the cold waves with thee !
ETTRICK
WHEN we first rade down Ettrick,
Our bridles were ringing, our hearts were dancing,
The waters were singing, the sun was glancing,
An' blithely our voices rang out thegither,
As we brushed the dew frae the blooming heather,
When we first rade down Ettrick.
When we next rade down Ettrick,
The day was dying, the wild birds calling,
The wind was sighing, the leaves were falling,
An' silent an' weary, but closer thegither,
We urged our steeds thro' the faded heather,
When we next rade down Ettrick.
109
no ETTRICK
When I last rade down Ettrick,
The winds were shifting, the storm was waking,
The snow was drifting, my heart was breaking,
For we never again were to ride thegither,
In sun or storm on the mountain heather,
When I last rade down Ettrick.
LAMMERMUIR
WILD and stormy Lammermuir !
Would I could feel once more,
The cold north wind, the wintry blast,
That sweeps thy mountains o'er !
Would I could see thy drifted snow,
Deep, deep in cleuch and glen ;
And hear the scream of the wild birds,
And be free on thy hills again !
1 hate this dreary southern land !
I weary day by day
For the music of thy many streams
In the birchwoods far away.
in
LAMMERMUIR
From all I love they banish me,
But my thoughts they cannot chain ;
And they bear me back, wild Lammermuir,.
To thy distant hills again.
THE COMIN' O' THE SPRING.
THERE'S no a muir in my ain land but's fu' o' sang
the day,
Wi' the whaup, and the gowden plover, and the
lintie upon the brae.
The birk in the glen is springing the rowan-tree
in the shaw,
And every burn is rinnin' wild wi' the meltin' o'
the snaw.
The wee white cluds in the blue lift are hurryin'
light and free,
Their shadows fleein' on the hills, where I, too,
fain wad be ;
H 113
114 THE COMIN' 0' THE SPRING
The wind frae the west is blawin', and wi' it seems
to bear
The scent o' the thyme and gowan thro' a' the
caller air.
The herd doon the hillside's linkin'. O licht his
heart may be
Whose step is on the heather, his glance ower muir
and lea !
On the Moss are the wild ducks gathering whar
the pules like diamonds lie,
And far up soar the wild geese, wi' weird, unyirdly
cry.
In mony a neuk the primrose lies hid frae stranger
e'en,
THE COMIN* & THE SPRING 115
An' the broom on the knowes is wavin' wi' its
cludin o' gowd and green ;
Ower the first green sprigs o' heather, the muir-
fowl faulds his wing,
And there's nought but joy in my ain land at the
comin' o' the Spring !
A LAMMERMUIR LILT 1
HAPPY is the craw
That builds its nest on Trottenshaw,
An' drinks o' the waters o' Dye ;
For nae mair may I !
Blythe may the muir-cock craw
On the moors abune Scaurlaw,
'Mang the heather blooms he'll flee
But there nae mair will I be !
It's wal for the plovers that big
On the bonnie leas o' Whinrigg,
1 First verse traditional.
116
A LAMMERMUIR LILT 117
An' whistle on the Rawburn stane ;
But I'll never be there again !
The hare may rin merry eneuch
On the braes o' Horsupcleuch,
Where the broom grows lang and fair ;
But I'll never see it mair !
Blest are the trout whose doom
In the Water o' Watch to soom,
An' in the Twinlaw Ford to play ;
But awa frae it I maun gae.
The tod may be happier still,
On the back o' the Twinlaw hill,
'Mang the bonnie moss-hags to hide
But there I maunna bide !
KILPAULET BRAE T
I HAVE seen the last wave of the plume in her cap
Vanish over the brae ;
I have heard the last ring of her horse's hoofs
On the hillside die away.
With that sight and that sound went the light of a
life,
And the hope of a breaking heart ;
I may turn my horse's head and ride,
For our fortunes lie far apart.
I forded the river at break of day,
The world was joyous and fair ;
1 Kilpaulet Brae is in the heart of Lammermuir, at a place
called the Lone Mile, near the Fastney Water.
IlS
KILPA ULE T BRAE 1 19
My hope was as high as the heaven above,
And my heart like the summer air.
I shall ford it again in the twilight grey,
'Mid the wind and the water's roar ;
But never while life and breath remain,
Will I cross that river more.
COMING BACK TO SPOTTISWOOD
I SEE the glittering hills, an' the snawy braes
again,
I feel the blinding snawdrift come shrieking up
the glen,
I see the line of dark fir-wood, out ower the edge
ance mair,
An' the yellow bents, an' the heather tops, where
the wind has blawn it bare.
O glorious sights ! O blissful sounds ! I've been
ower lang awa',
It gars my very heart dance to be back amang ye
a'!
A RIDE OVER LAMMERMUIR
THEY are sweeping over the Earnscleuch hill,
Where the silver mist hangs thin and still.
Their horses' hoofs from the heather flowers
Scatter the bloom in purple showers,
The moor-cock flies with sudden spring
From their swift approach on his startled wing,
Onwards they rush far to the right
Edgarhope's * dark forests fringe the height.
And now they wind their rapid way
Down a rocky pathway worn and grey
Which brings them to the mossy side
Of Blythe's wild water, dark and wide.
A hollow plunge and the struggling shock
Of the iron on the slippery rock,
1 Pronounced " Eagrope."
121
122 A RIDE OVER LAMMERMUIR
And their horses spring on the grassy ledge
That slopes to the water's southern edge.
With drooping head and slackened rein
Up the steep mountain side they strain,
Each sinew stretched, each nostril wide,
Impatient in their fiery pride,
Gasping with eagerness they stop
At length upon its craggy top.
One moment's pause and their riders' gaze
Has marked the track through the glittering haze,
And with noiseless tread o'er the marshy plain,
And the measured ring of the bridle chain,
They bound with motion light and free
As the dancing waves on a summer sea.
They have crossed the moss, they are standing now
On Gairmoor Edge, whose rugged brow
A RIDE OVER LAMMERMUIR 123
Frowns on those shadowy hills, that stand
The boundary of a stranger land.
They little know on Cheviot's side,
Who mark that barrier dark and wide,
What fairy scenes its bleak crags hide.
Oh, many a vale lies calm and fair
With peaceful waters murmuring there,
And many a wild and lonely wood
Where the old grey-hen leads forth her brood,
And many a green and sunny glade
Where in the tall fern's fragrant shade
The fox and hare their homes have made.
Even as they reached the Gairmoor's side,
The veil of mist, that far and wide
Hung dimly over hill and lea,
Rose slowly upwards they could see
124 A RIDE OVER LAMMERMUIR
From woodland green and moorland grey
T'was stealing silently away,
Till over Cheviot's wildest height
It vanished from their dazzled sight.
A glorious scene beneath them spread
A flood of golden light was shed
On all the valley wide and green
That stretched those distant hills between ;
And waves of sunshine seemed to roll
O'er tangled wood and mossy knoll.
Long was the rapturous gaze they cast
In silence round too bright to last,
That glittering light was fading fast,
Mellowed and softened down and still,
It settled over glen and hill,
A DISREGARDED INVITATION FROM
THE CHEVIOTS
THE Tev'ot heads hae raised a sang
An' the wastlan' wind's borne it alang,
An' the note's ta'en up by the streams o' Rule,
An' the Ousenam Water frae pule to pule ;
An' the Kale and Bowmont's joined loud and
shrill
An' sent the strain ower Halterburn hill
To the linns o' Colledge, where wild and deep
Th' exultin' tones ower the Border sweep.
The snaws hae melted frae howe and glen,
The primrose keeks up in the Cocklaw Den,
The gowans lie white upon Hownam Law
An' the bracken is green in Henwoodie Shaw.
125
126 A DISREGARDED INVITATION
The plovers are whistlin' o'er moss an' lea,
The gled soars high, and the tod rins free ;
We, only, are sad amid a' this glee.
O come frae the hills an' ower the sea,
For our heart is weary wi' pinin' for thee !
THE BOUNDS O' CHEVIOT
SHALL I never see the bonnie banks o' Kale again?
Nor the dark craigs o' Hownam Law ?
Nor the green dens o' Chatto, nor Twaeford's
mossy stane,
Nor the birks upon Philogar Shaw ?
Nae mair ! Nae mair !
I shall never see the bounds o' Cheviot mair !
Shall I never watch the breakin' o' the simmer
day
Ower the shouther o' the Deer Buss height,
127
128 THE BOUNDS O' CHEVIOT
When the Stainchel, and the Mote, and the
flowery Bughtrigg brae
Redden slowly, wi' the mornin' light ?
Nae mair ! Nae mair !
I shall never see the bounds o' Cheviot mair !
Shall I never wander lanely, when the gloamin' fa's
And the wild birds flutter to their rest,
Ower the lang heathery muir, to the bonnie
Brunden laws
Standin' dark against the glitter o' the West ?
Nae mair ! Nae mair !
I shall never see the bounds o' Cheviot mair !
Shall I never ride the mossy braes o' Heatherhope
mair?
Shall I never see the Fairlone burn ?
THE BOUNDS 0' CHEVIOT 129
Nor the wild heights o' Hindhope, wi' its corries
green and fair
And the waters trinklin' down, amang the fern ?
Nae mair ! Nae mair !
1 shall never see the bounds o' Cheviot mair !
Shall I never win the marches at the Coquet head,
Thro' the mists and the driftin' snaw ?
Nor the dark doors o' Cottenshope, nor the quiet
springs o' Rede,
Glintin' bright across the Border, far awa ?
Nae mair ! Nae mair !
I shall never see the bounds o' Cheviot mair !
(1858)
HISTORICAL
ILDICO'S LAMENT FOR ATTILA x
FAIN would I lay me down beside thee,
O gallant and brave !
Black death alone from me could divide thee,
There is no love in the grave.
Attila ! Attila ! Do not forget !
In Heaven I shall meet thee yet.
Coldly and stilly art thou sleeping,
And my agony is vain,
Nothing replies to my bitter weeping,
But the wind and the driving rain.
1 Ildico was the beautiful wife of Attila, King of the Huns,
who expired suddenly on their wedding night (see Gibbon's
Decline and Fall).
133
134 ILDICffS LAMENT FOR A TTILA
Attila ! Attila ! Do not forget !
In Heaven I shall meet thee yet.
Wildly the boldest fled before thee,
And thy path was desolate.
One breaking heart is watching o'er thee,
Mourning thine early fate.
Attila ! Attila ! Do not forget !
In Heaven I shall meet thee yet.
JAMES THE FIFTH'S REMORSE
IN bitter grief, abandoned and alone,
My name disgraced, and Scotland's honour gone,
I mourn my ill-spent life, my wretched fate,
I do repent Repentance comes to late !
my brave borderers, had I been true,
And as you trusted me, so trusted you,
1 ne'er had seen the shame of Fala's day,
You would have followed when I led the way.
And she, as pure in heart, as fair in face,
The noblest daughter of a noble race, 1
Doomed by my petty jealousy to die
I saw her tortures with unpitying eye.
1 Lady Glamis.
135
136 JAMES THE FIFTH'S REMORSE
I saw her stand with firm undaunted mien,
With faith unshaken, and with brow serene ;
One word of mine had set the prisoner free,
One word restored to home and liberty,
One word had told her coward foes they lied
That word I spoke not, and my victim died.
Remorse avails not, and my grief is vain,
I cannot summon her to life again.
My friend of early days, trusty and tried,
Gentle and kind, when all were harsh beside ; '
You I neglected, spurned and saw depart
To die, as I die of a broken heart.
There is a crime, the blackest and the last
Which weighs me downwards, more than all the
past,
1 Graystiel (Douglas of Kilspindie).
JAMES THE FIFTH'S REMORSE 137
Which doomed the best and bravest of my bands
To meet their death, at cruel England's hands.
There was one faithful man of high degree, 1
Valiant and wise, revered by all but me ;
He could our arms to victory have led,
And bowed the pride of England's haughty head,
Had I not blindly, to my foul disgrace,
Raised up a worthless caitiff in his place.
My ill-starred men ! your blood is on my head,
The foe came on the dastard villain fled.
Ages of suffering could not still my pain,
Nor all the waves of Solway cleanse the stain.
Oh, Magdalen ! My fair and youthful bride, 2
I had not thus have sinned, had you not died ;
1 Lord Maxwell.
2 Princess Magdalen of France.
138 JAMES THE FIFTH'S REMORSE
One word of your's, my pure and holy wife,
Had curbed the demons that have ruled my life.
So dearly were you loved, no tear or sigh
Had wrung your gentle heart, or dimmed your eye.
My solace is you did not live to share
My stormy life, or witness my despair.
DARNLEY AFTER RIZZIO'S MURDER
MY Mary ! humbled here before thee,
1 do confess how great has been my sin.
Look on me in my anguish I implore thee,
And let my penitence thy pardon win.
O my Mary ! just is thy displeasure,
Call me caitiff traitor, if thou wilt.
Pour out thy wrath, with neither stint nor measure,
'Twill not exceed the baseness of my guilt.
The slanderous falsehoods whispered to deceive
me,
Could'st thou but know ! it might thy pity move.
140 DARN LEY AFTER RIZZI&S MURDER
Thus was I for a moment (Oh ! believe me)
Lured from my duty never from my love.
O my Mary ! pity and forgive me,
Think of my youth, turn at my bitter cry ;
Let not thine anger and thy scorn outlive me,
Without thy pardon at thy feet I die.
THE LAST WORDS OF "YOUNG
DAIRSIE" 1
GOD comfort thee, my Father ! Make no lament
for me,
With my heart's blood I seal this day my Faith
and Loyalty ;
I die rejoicing for my King my country and
her laws,
I would I had a hundred lives to lose in such a
cause.
1 John Spottiswood ("Young Dairsie"), the only son of Sir
John Spottiswood of Dairsie, and grandson of the Archbishop,
joined his uncle, Sir Robert, in support of Montrose. He was
taken prisoner with his great leader, and suffered for his loyalty
at the Cross of Edinburgh, in May 1650, eight days after
Montrose's execution.
141
142 LAST WORDS OF " YOUNG DA IRS IE"
Jesus ! receive my spirit, and waft me safely o'er
This sea of blood one nobler far, hath crossed
its waves before ;
My sword is sheathed for ever my last fight
nearly won,
But twenty summers I have seen an' now my
days are done !
Far to the East, o'er town and tower my longing
eyes I strain,
But the morning mist lies heavy and I must look
in vain ;
Not to the woods of Dairsie, not to the shores of
Fife,
Does my heart turn with fervent love, in this last
hour of life ;
LAST WORDS OF " YOUNG DAIRSIE" 143
But o'er the distant Lammermuir, to a wild and
lonely place,
To the old grey Towers of Spotyswode, the home
of all my race !
If it may be, my Comrades, I charge you e'er I die
Bury me, in its White Chapel, where my gallant
Fathers lie.
Robert, who fought by Bruce's side, and James at
Sauchieburn,
William, who died at Flodden, and Ninian bold
and stern
Who stood against Queen Mary's foes ! They
sleep within its shade,
A line of stainless warriors and there would I be
laid.
144 LAST WORDS OF " YOUNG DAI RSI E"
Farewell ! misguided Scotland ! When thou the
truth shall see,
Thou hast strong arms and gallant hearts would
right thy King and thee ;
That brighter day is dawning, I die in Faith and
Trust,
The King shall have his own again when I am
in the dust.
LAMENT OF LADY DUNDEE FOR HER
HUSBAND
I LITTLE thought, that waefu' day
I bade fareweel to thee,
An' held thee fast, an' prayed thee sair
Sune to come back to me.
Tho' our partings were mony
An' fu' o' grief an' pain
They were to be our last, an' we
Sud never meet again.
" Mourn not/' thou said'st ; " ye ken my faith
Is given but to three,
Unstained I keep it to my King,
My country, an' to thee.
K 145
146 LAMENT OF LADY DUNDEE
As cauld as ice, as hard as steel
I gang amang them a' ;
An' my heart's wi' thee at Dudhope,
When I am far awa'."
Thy spirit was the gentlest, but
Where duty led it on,
Thou did'st neither shrink nor falter,
Till the rugged way was won.
Pause were the words they said of thee,
They called thee harsh an' stern,
They kenned na' how the heart was wrung
That wad neither flinch nor turn.
They might hae kenned the bitter signs,
They were na' far to seek,
LAMENT OF LADY DUNDEE 147
In the sadness o' thy glorious e'e,
The paleness o' thy cheek.
A stormy life, a hero's death,
An' deathless fame are thine ;
When a' thy foes forgotten lie
The clearer will it shine.
The mools are on the gallant heart,
That aye beat true to me ;
The dust lies ower the waving hair,
I never mair shall see.
The ringing voice is silent,
That echoed wild an' free,
An' stirred the blude o' auld an' young
Wi' the war-cry o' " Dundee."
JACOBITE
SHAME ON YE GALLANTS !
SHAME on ye gallants ! that rise not readily,
Rouse ye and march at your Prince's call,
Wha sae base but would arm him speedily
For the noblest Stuart amang them all ?
He comes like the dawn on our lang night of
slavery,
Hope in his smile and light in his e'e ;
He sought us alone in his youth and his bravery
Frae the tyrant usurper to set us free.
Shame on ye gallants ! The sun shineth fairly,
To brighten each step of the Conqueror's way ;
152 SHAME ON YE GALLANTS!
The winds are singing a welcome to Charlie,
And the rebels are running before him the day.
Weel may we trust him to bear himsel' dauntlessly;
Scotland can witness frae heroes he springs ;
Noble his spirit, untainted his gallantry,
Worthy the son of a hundred kings !
WE'VE LOOKIT FOR YE LANG.
WE'VE lookit for ye lang, Prince Charlie,
Thro' years o' disgrace and pain ;
But the heather will bloom, and the thistle-top
wave
There's a Stuart in Scotland again !
, I
Argyle's gi'en ower the crown and sceptre
(The fause traitor dog),
But he couldna' mak a King o' Scotland
Out o' a German Hog !
They've brak into our King's palace,
They've ripit his treasury,
154 WE VE LOO KIT FOR YE LANG
An' he's climbed into our King's throne, who was
A bit crofter in Germanic !
He's ta'en place o' our lords and nobles,
As tho' he were head o' the state ;
An' he's daured to ca' us his subjects
My Faith ! but he isna blate !
He may head us, an' he may hang us,
He may chain us within stane wa's ;
But he canna gar a man in Scotland
Stir a fit in his beggarly cause !
Ae glance o' your eagle e'e,
Ae wave o' your yellow hair,
Ae tone o' your princely voice
Will lead us we need nae mair.
WE'VE LOO KIT FOR YE LANG 155
There's a road thro' your foes, Prince Charlie !
A way that is sure an' fleet,
We'll ding down the usurpin' carlie,
An fling him beneath your feet !
I'VE CAST OFF MY SATIN PETTICOAT
I'VE cast of my satin petticoat b' the scarlet an'
the blue,
An' the mantle that happit me sae fairly,
I've put on the hieland kilt, an' the belted plaidie
too
An' it's a' for the sake o' Prince Charlie !
I've thrown by my siller seam, my spinnin' wheel
an' a'
An' the harp that I played upon sae rarely ;
I've ta'en the claymore in my fingers white an'
sma',
An' it's a' for the sake o' Prince Charlie.
156
/' VE CAST OFF MY SATIN PETTICOAT 157
Ah, little kens my father, that his daughter Leddy
Jean,
Was off in the mornin' sae early,
To rank in among his men, when they marshalled
on the green,
But it's a' for the sake o' Prince Charlie !
Tho' my kennin' it is little, an' my strength it is
but sma',
An' I am furnished wi' weapons but barely ;
I'll haud up my head among the sodgers a'
An' I'll fight to the death for Prince Charlie !
(1892)
JEANIE CAMERON'S DEATH-SONG
FAREWEEL to thee, Charlie ; dim grows my e'e,
But on thy Kingly brow, Charlie, it's last look
shall be.
My head's pillow'd now, Charlie, on thy Royal
breast,
But sune this weary brow, Charlie, on the cauld
earth maun rest.
My deepest love is thine, Charlie, it's a' I hae
to gie,
-An' lay me in the mools, Charlie, an' think nae
mair o' me !
158
JEANIE CAMERON'S DEATH-SONG 159
Thy step maun be the first, Charlie, amang the
free and brave
There's a Crown and a Throne for thee, Charlie,
an' for me, my lonely grave !
SUGGESTED BY THE HATED SIGHT
OF CULLODEN
I
**
CURST be Culloden, blasted for ever,
Blossom or verdure, grow there again never !
May storms rage around it, may bitter winds blight
it,
May rain never soften, may sunshine ne'er light it!
May no bird of the forest, no deer of the mountain
Alight on its dark moor, or drink of its fountain !
May their rest be unbroken, their dust be
untrodden
Who lie deep in the black heart of guilty
Culloden !
1 60
CULLODEN 161
Confusion to Cumberland ! Mourning and
weeping
Dog him and follow him, waking and sleeping !
May the blood shed by him and his abject
dependants
Bring ruin and woe on their latest descendants !
Dark on Culloden our vengeance is lying !
For our Prince hunted down for the slain, for the
dying !
For our shame and dishonour that cleansed can be
never,
May the Curse rest upon it for ever and ever !
AFTER CULLODEN
WE winna leave thee. Where should we gang ?
Thou art our King, our life, and our glory.
Trust to us yet, and it shall na be lang
Ere the dastardly Whigs shall rin trembling
before ye.
The bravest and best o' the country lie slain,
True hearts and bauld wad hae righted ye
rarely,
But ye've the mair need o' the few that remain,
An' in life or in death, we'll stand by ye,
Charlie.
162
AFTER CULLODEN 163
Dark though the day be, its clouds will blaw past,
An' a morrow will come wi' the sun shining
fairly,
Up the red steep we will struggle at last,
An' place the auld crown on your head, Royal
Charlie !
We'll never leave thee. Our law is thy will,
Our heart's blude, our gear, an' our lands are
thine fairly,
Lead on ! If ye fa', we'll follow ye still,
An' dee by your side. We'll hae nae king but
Charlie \
THE RETURN FROM CULLODEN
Wi' wearie fit and breakin' heart
I've wandered back to see
My father's lands and ancient tower.
(Nae langer hame to me !)
Yon ill-fa'ured thievin' German loon
Has ta'en my rights awa ;
The King he's robbit o' his Crown
An' ruin brought on a'.
The auld grey tower stands fair and fast.
Where we, and our forbears
164
1*3
Held rule and sway, ower muir an' brae,
For mony a hundred years !
Oh ! blithely rade we forth at morn,
An' thocht to come again,
Wi' triumph an' rejoicin',
When the King won back his ain !
Our father turned him round about
Before our bounds were past,
Wi' lingerin' look, he little kenn'd
That look wad be his last !
There were three went forth from Philhope
Tower
Without a care or pain,
166 THE RETURN FROM CULLODEff
O'er hill an' glen to join our King
An' but ane came back again.
An" he is wandrin', hunted dune
Wi' heart forlorn an' wae ;
An' the twae are lyin' cauld an' still
Aneath Culloden Brae.
LAMENT OF THE WIFE OF A LOYALIST
WHO DIED OF HIS WOUNDS AFTER
CULLODEN
WHERE the snow lies the deepest,
Where the wintry winds moan,
There thou, my love, sleepest,
By the wild wood, alone.
When from fatal Culloden
. (Oh ! dark was the day)
Through muirlands untrodden
We wandered away.
No hope for the morrow,
No balm for the past,
167
168 LAMENT OF THE WIFE OF A LOYALIST
In faintness and sorrow
We rested at last.
Where the green grass was growing,
Where the stream wandered by,
There thy life-blood was flowing,
Thou hadst lain down to die !
The spring has departed,
The summer is gone.
And I broken-hearted,
Still watch thee alone.
What worse can befall me ?
I know to my pain,
(Tho' I would not recall thee)
Thy death was in vain !
HOWNAM LAW
As I rade forth in the mornin' early,
The bonniest lassie that ever I saw,
A blue-e'ed, gowden-haired, little Herd-lassie,
Was keepin' her sheep upon Hownam Law.
" Oh, whae's aught you, ye little Herd-lassie,
That wad trust ye sae far on the hills your lane ? "
Quo' she, " There was a battle far i' the North,
An' they banished our King, an' my Daddie
was slain.
" My Minnie an' me, we bide in the shielin',
Doun the glen, frae the Roman Ring ;
169
i;o HO WNAM LA W
An' a' the day lang she's greetin' and prayin',
She greets for my Daddie, an' prays for our
King."
" Oh, wha was your Daddie, my bonnie bit lassie,
Did he follow his laird to the Hielands awa ? "
" Deed no ! he was Lord o' baith vassals an'
lands,
An' gin we had our richts, I am heir to them a'."
" Oh, hard is thy fortune, my bonnie wee lassie !
Sad maun your days be, your heart maun be sair;"
" We daurna repine, for my Minnie aye tells me
If we hae lost muckle, our King has lost
mair.
HOWNAM LAW iji*
" I dance on the heather, I sing wi' the laverock,
I wade in the waters, and better than a',
There's naethin' 'tween me an' my Daddie ini
Heaven,
When I'm up wi' my sheep upon Hownam.
Law ! "
MY PRINCE
WHY did they force thee frpm the field,
They knew thou ne'er would'st turn or yield ?
What did'st thou reck of life or breath
Thou would'st have died a hero's death ?
O my Prince, my Prince !
Was it for thee, thro' wind and rain,
Hunger and thirst, and grief and pain,
No arm to aid, no hope to cheer,
To wander like a hunted deer ?
O my Prince, my Prince !
Was it for thee with breaking heart,
With all thy high resolves to part ?
172
MY PRINCE 173
To know thy gallant deeds in vain,
Thy cause betray'd, thy followers slain ?
O my Prince, my Prince !
Alone in forced inglorious rest,
The pinioned eagle droops his crest ;
Despair hath bowed thy Royal head,
The fire of other days is dead.
O my Prince, my Prince !
But still we see thee brave and fair,
The stalwart form, the yellow hair,
The eagle eye with glances keen,
The lion heart the princely mien.
O my Prince, my Prince !
a 74 MY PRINCE
Our hearts are all thine own, as when
We followed thee o'er hill and glen.
All else may change on earth and sea,
But not our faith and truth to thee.
O my King, my King !
(i 88 1)
BALLADS
ANNIE LAURIE 1
MAXWELTON braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
And it's there that Annie Laurie
Gie'd me her promise true ;
Gie'd me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot will be,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay doun my head and dee !
Her brow is like the snawdrift,
Her throat is like the swan,
Her face it is the bonniest
That e'er the sun shone on.
1 Written at Marchmont, 1834 or 1835.
M 177
1 78 ANNIE LAURIE
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her e'e,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay doun my head and dee !
Like dew on the gowan lying
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet,
And like winds in summer sighing
Her voice is low and sweet.
Her voice is low and sweet,
And she's a' the world to me,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay doun my head and dee !
The old version, given in Allan Ramsay's Scottish Songs,
is as follows :
ANNIE LAURIE
MAXWELLTOWN banks are bonnie
Where early fa's the dew ;
Where I and Annie Laurie
Made up the promise true ;
ANNIE LAURIE 179
Made up the promise true,
And never forget will I,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay down my head and die.
She's backet like a peacock,
She's breasted like a swan,
She's jimp about the middle,
Her waist you weel may span ;
Her waist you weel may span,
And she has a rolling eye,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay down my head and die.
Allan Ramsay appends this note to the song :
"I found this song in the little Ballad Book, collected and
edited by a gentleman to whom Scottish literature is largely
indebted Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe of Hoddam. It is
accompanied by the following notice : ' Sir Robert Laurie,
first Baronet of the Maxwelton family (created 27th March
1685), by his second wife, a daughter of Riddell of Minto,
had three sons and four daughters, of whom Anne was much
celebrated for her beauty, and made a conquest of Mr Douglas
of Fingland, who is said to have composed the following
verses under an unlucky star for the lady married, Mr Ferguson
of Craigdarroch.' "
THE LADY BLANCHE'S BURIAL 1
THE Lady Blanche is dead
And in her cold grave laid,
And her eyes so fair, and her golden hair
In the dark damp earth must fade.
Four Knights bore her pall,
And they went mourning all,
The cold moon shone on them every one,
And fast their tears did fall.
The first sighed heavily
" Of the noblest blood was she,
1 Written before Lady John Scott's marriage.
1 80
THE LADY BLANCHE'S BURIAL 181
For lineage great, and queenly state,
Her peer can never be."
The second wept full sore
" Shall I never see her more ?
Her beauty bright was my delight,
And now my dream is o'er."
The third Knight wildly cried
" O would she had not died !
Of lands so fair, she was the heir,
And of coffers of gold beside."
The fourth spoke sad and slow
" O death, thou hast laid low
The sweetest flower, and from this hour
The world is a world of woe ! "
182 THE LADY BLANCHES BURIAL
Her dirge rose wild and deep
" Mourn not her early sleep,
Her beauty and power, her lands and dower,
Are left, but she doth not weep.
" The flowers of Heaven are fair,
And she blooms the sweetest there,
And the stars of night are not more bright
Than the crown on her golden hair."
THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER
" BONNIE Lady Annie, where are ye gaun ? "
"I'm gaun to the greenwood thro' the wind and
the rain
For my brither, he's out at the huntin' his lane."
" Bonnie Lady Annie, the night's gaun to fa',
Sune will the Heaven be driftin' wi' snaw ;
To the dark forest, oh, gang not ava ! "
" Thro' wind and thro' snawdrift this night I maun
gang
For my brither has bidden at the huntin' ower lang
An' I fear in my heart, there is something wrang."
183
184 THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER
" Gang to your stepmother, my bonnie Lady Anne,
Ask three o' her horses, an' twa o' her men,
An' they'll bring your brither sune home again."
To her stepmother's bower Lady Annie's gane doon,
An' lowly and tremblin' she's begged the boon,
The Lady turned round and answered her soon :
" My men's by the fire, my horse in the sta' ;
They're no gang the night for Lord John thro' the
snaw,
If he bide or they seek him, he'll no come ava."
Lady Annie turned round wi' the tear in her e'e,
" Weel, Madam," she said, " if nae better maun be,
Will ye grant your wee doggie to seek him wi' me?"
THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER 185
" The night it is mirk, an' the wind's blawin' snell,
Asleep at my feet my doggie's as well,
If ye're wantin' Lord John, ye may seek him your
seF ! "
She's waded the moss, an' she's forded the burn,
An' she's up the brae face wi' mony a turn,
An' wearied she's won to the Forest of Morne.
Cauld drave the snaw thro' her lang yellow hair,
" Ochon ! " quo' Lady Annie wi' mony a tear,
" Were our father at hame, I wadna been here ! "
To the East and the West, she's seeking him gane,
In the mirk midnight thro' the forest her lane,
Crying aye as she gaed, " O Johnnie, come hame !"
186 THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER
Thro' the cauld snaw she gaed widely and far,
Wi'naethingto guide her, neither moonlight nor star;
Sad was the seeking but the finding was waur !
Down at the fit o' a bonnie birk tree,
Lying low in the snaw Lord John did she see,
But cauld was his cheek and dim was his e'e.
His red heart's blude was ebbing fu' fast,
In the Forest o' Morne he had huntit his last ;
His hounds at his feet howled wild to the blast.
" There's nae need to ask, for but ane it can be
Wad hae dune sic a deed, my Johnnie, to the,
It's our stepmither's wark ! " " Ye say truly,"
quo' he.
THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER 187
" On the braes o' the forest it's pleasant to dee ;
Fu' saftly I lie, wi' the snaw driftin' free
An' the birk boughs are waving a welcome to me,
" Our cruel stepmother can harm me nae mair !
I'm gane to a land she'll no grudge me to heir,
Where nae fause hand can reach, and the heart's
never sair."
" The kind earth's beneath us, and the Heavens are
abune ;
My brither, we'll sleep a lang sleep an' a soun'."
An' slowly and weary Lady Annie lay doun.
There are lights in the forest, an' a sound in the air ;
O' horsemen approaching wi' the speed o' despair,
An' the Baron o' Morne the foremost is there.
1 88 THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER
Oh sair was his heart, an' a wud man was he,
" My bairns ! whom I lo'ed as the light o' my e'e !
Hae they huntit ye doun to the wild woods to dee !"
Oh sad were the words that passed this three atween
Lord John and Lady Annie were weary, I ween,
An' their voices turned faint, an' dull grew their
e'en.
The high hills were round them, but higher than a'
Their spirits or daybreak had mounted awa,
An' the Baron o' Morne was his lane in the snaw.
Their cruel stepmother to the dungeon he's ta'en ;
An' there has he bound her wi' mony a chain,
An' the sweet light o' Heaven she ne'er saw again.
THE CRUEL STEPMOTHER 189
He's banished her son saying, "Weren't no for
the sake
O' his prayer that's awa, an' my word I'll no break,
Baith you an' your mither should hae burnt at the
stake ! "
THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS
THERE were twa Lairds' sons fn Lammermuir,
An' they hae set a day
To flee their hawks, an' hunt their grues 1
Upon the Twinlaw brae.
Sic friends, in lands baith far an' near
(Ye may search them one by one)
Ye wadna find, as young St Clair
An' the Laird o' Spottiswood's son.
But there rase a quarrel them a'tween,
An' angry men were they,
1 Greyhounds
190
THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS 191
An' they've agreed to fecht it out
Upon the Twinlaw brae.
St Clair has ta'en his riding sword,
To stand to his ain part :
But Spottiswood's drawn his huntin' knife,
An' stabbit him to the heart.
He cuist himsel' in anguish doon,
(He wad neither flee nor hide) ;
'" O wae is me, that by my hand,
My dearest friend has died ! "
. " 9.
When the St Clairs gat word o' this,
Their anger wadna stay,
They've sent a message to the king
Afore the break o' day.
192 THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS SONS
"Grant us a boon, my gracious king,
To us young Spottiswood gie,
That for the foul deed he has done
High hangit he may be.".
The king garr'd write a stern letter,
An' signed it wi' his hand :
" I'll hear nae mair o' they blude feuds
That desolate the land.
" Let Spottiswood tak' a bag o' gowd,
Filled to the very brim,
An' offer a' to the St Clairs :
I wot they'll pardon him."
" Look up, look up, my son Johnnie,
Tho' it sud ruin me,
THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS 193
I'll sell my horse, 1 I'll sell my kye,
But ye sail borrowed 2 be."
" Alak, my father, I hae brought
Ruin an' want on thee,
An' a' to save the worthless life
O' sic a wretch as me.
" Surely my wicked heart had been
By the foul fiend possest,
That I sud slay my dearest friend,
My truest an' my best."
Or the sun blinked ower Yavering Bell,
He's mounted an' awa,
1 Horse, a collective noun. * Borrowed, ransomed.
N
194 THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS
He's ta'en the weighty poke o' gowd
To Longformacus Ha'.
He lichted doun ilk man his sword
Swift frae its sheath has ta'en,
But when they saw the bag o' gowd
They sheathed them back again.
" I bring this offrin' for my sin,
The utmost I can gie,
An' for the dear Lord's sake I pray
That ye wad pardon me.
41 My sleep will be nae rest to me,
My meat will be na feed,
There's naethin' left in life for me,
I wish that I was deid ! "
THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS 195
They've ta'en him kindly by the hand,
They've raised him frae his knee,
" The past's forgi'en, let us be friends,
As we were used to be."
" Ah, fare ye weel, my comrades dear,
Fareweel to a' your clan,
For I maun wander through the world
A broken-hearted man.
" Ye may forgi'e my awfu' sin,
Twill haunt me sune an' syne ;
There's nae St Clair amang ye a'
Wi' a heart sae sair as mine."
196 THERE WERE TWA LAIRDS' SONS
NOTE BY LADY JOHN SCOTT IN A LETTER TO THE
HONBLE. JAMES HOME, i3th March 1897.
"I am ashamed to say this is a true story. The duel
without witnesses, and the murder of young Matthew St Clair
by his friend John Spottiswood (the part of the Twinlaw brae
where the tragedy took place is called ' Matthew's Rig ' to this
day), the fury of the St Clairs suddenly softened into forgive-
ness and friendship by the sight of 'the bag o' gowd,' the
intense remorse and despair of Spottiswood, the all but ruin
of his poor old father, are all real facts. No one ever knew
what the two amiable youths quarrelled about, very likely the
merits of their respective hawks and hounds."
The murder took place in 1611.
BIDE IN YOUR BOWER
BIDE in your bower, my Leddie,
Hae nae sad thoughts for me,
For as sure as the sun's in Heaven
I will hasten back to thee,
And for ilka coo that they hae ta'en,
I wot I'll bring you three.
Half o' my men sail bide at hame,
And half sail ride wi' me,
And or the sun's ahint the hill
Ye sail hae news o' me.
She turned her to the inner ha'
Wi' mony a sigh and tear,
197
ig8 BIDE IN YOUR BOWER
" My mind misgi'es me ; or the morn
III tidings we shall hear."
And lang afore the sun gae'd doun,
111 news cam' to the ha',
Lord Ronald and his men are ta'en ;
They're to be hangit a'.
"We'll mount and ride, my trusty men,
And or the gloamin' fa',
We'll hae Lord Ronald back again
Safe in his ain ha'."
And mony a glen they hurried through,
And mony a hill they clomb,
And when in the gate was a water in spate,
They rode in their horse and swam.
BIDE IN YOUR BOWER 199
When they cam' to the Fairlea Haughs,
A bonnie sicht was seen,
Twa hunder kye o' the Lowland kind
Were feeding on the green.
And out and spak' the Leddie there
And she spak' cheerfullie,
" Now bide ye here, my men, she said.
Till ye get word frae me."
She's left them on the fair hill-side,
She's ridden on her lane,
Exceptin' but her little foot-page
That walked by her bridle rein.
And she cam' up the Cocklemuir
An awfu' sight to see ;
200 BIDE IN YOUR BOWER
Lord Ronald stude wi' a' his men
Around the gallows tree.
" O heed my prayer, Sir Halbert Grey,
For a waefu' wife you see,
Tho' I ken you hae a heart o' steel,
I beg a boon frae thee.
" Grant me but ae grasp o' his hand,
But ae blink o' his e'e,
And grant him but a few kind words
To tak' farewell o' me."
" My heart is no sae hard, Leddie,
But your boon sail granted be ;
Tho' Lord Ronald's but a rank Reiver,
He may tak' farewell o' thee."
BIDE IN YOUR BOWER 201
She's turned her horse where Lord Ronald stude
Twa buirdlie men atween,
He couldna stir a step hirnsel'
They held him sae hard and keen.
She's ridden up to Lord Ronald's side,
And she's dune weel her part,
She's drawn a sword on his twa guards
And she's stabbit them to the heart.
She strak sae swift, she strak sae sure,
That they loosed their grip and fell,
And sae ready was Lord Ronald then
To mount ahint hersel'.
She leaned her doun to her little foot-page,
And thus to him did say :
202 BIDE IN YOUR BOWER
" Ca' up my weel-armed men in haste
That dern * ahint the brae.
" And lead them to Lord Ronald's men
Aneath the gallows tree,
Gar them keep the road for ae half hour,.
Till we're ayont the lea.
Lord Ronald grippit firm ahint,
And she rade stride afore,
She slackit na speed and she drew na rein r
Till they cam' to their ain ha' door.
And mony a wife's dune weel, I wot,
But. she's dune best of a',
1 " Dern." to hide.
BIDE IN YOUR BOWER 203
For it's by the might o' her right hand
He's safe in his ain ha'.
Her men had arms, baith swords and spears,
But Lord Ronald's they had nane,
Yet they've feuchten weel wi' the Englishmen,.
And mony a ane was slain.
Then out and spak' Sir Halbert Grey,
And he spak' angrilie,
" They fight like devils mair than men,
Sae turn about and flee."
The Scots lads stude on the Langstane Edge,
To see the men gae by,
They've keepit the road for a gude half hour,
And syne drave hame the kye.
204 BIDE IN YOUR BOWER
And they that gaed to Fairlea Haughs
Saw a waefu' sight next morn,
The Scots had cleared them o' a' the kye,
And left neither cloot nor horn.
There were thankfu' hearts in Wardlaw Tower,
And weel might Lord Ronald's be
To the gallant wife that had won his life
At the fit o' the gallows tree.
THE FAIRY QUEEN'S COURTING
IN GLADHOUSE GLEN 1
WITHIN the howe o' the hill,
An' ahint the back o' the brae.
The Fairy Queen sat courting
A' the lang Summer's day.
It wasna the Fairy King,
That in silk and jewels shone ;
As little was it an Elfin Knight,
That fair Queen smiled upon.
Ye wadna hae heard the burn,
As it gaed tinklin' doun,
In the Moorfoot Hills.
20 S
.206 THE FAIRY Q UEEN 'S CO UR TING
The air was sae daft wi' their twa voices
An' their laughter's ringin' sound.
Up the mouth o' the Glen,
An' round the Drudal Stane,
Lord James, the Flower o' the Border-land
Cam' wandrin' up, his lane.
'" Who may this mortal be ?
But it's naething to you nor me,
As you and I sit courting,
Unseen by mortal e'e."
Within the howe o' the hill,
An' ahint the back o' the brae,
The Fairy Queen sat courting
A' the lang Summer's day.
THE FAIRY Q UEEN'S COUR TING 207
The oak boughs parted wide,
An' the birks in the leafy den,
An' the loveliest Lady in a' the land
Cam' slowly up the Glen.
"Is it the Leddy o' Douglas ?
Come quickly to me, tell."
He shook like ony aspen leaf:
" It's the Queen o' Scotland's seP."
Within the howe o' the hill,
An' ahint the back o' the brae,
The Fairy Queen sat courting
A' the lang Summer's day.
"On the path o' the bauld Lord James,
How daur's her step to be ?
208 THE FAIRY QUEEN'S COURTING
Oh dule on this green howe hill,
I can neither stir nor see ! "
Louder her laughter grew,
An' merrier danced her e'en,
" Ye maun leave that riddle unread,
If ye court wi' the Fairy Queen.
" Ye maun keep your vows to me,
Let Mary o' Scotland gae,
Little she wots o' him that courts
Wi' me ahint the brae."
Within the howe o' the hill,
An' ahint the back o' the brae,
The Fairy Queen sat courting
A' the lang Summer day.
ABSENCE *
Oh ! the ewe-buchtin's bonnie, baith e'ening and morn,
When the blythe shepherds play on their bog-reed and horn ;
While we're milking, they're lilting baith pleasant and clear
But my heart's like to break, when I think o' my dear.
Oh ! the shepherds take pleasure to blow on the horn,
To raise up their flocks o' sheep sune i' the morn ;
On the bonnie green banks they feed pleasant and free
But, alas ! my dear heart, all my sighing's for thee !
Oh ! the hillsides are pleasant in a blyth Autumn
day,
When the muirmen are out at the kylin' o' the hay ;
Their sangs o'er the muirlands ring widely and
near
But my heart's like to break, when I think o' my
dear.
1 The two first verses by Lady Grizell Baillie ; the two last by
Lady John Scott.
o 209
210 ABSENCE
Wi' laughter and daffin the hours wear away,
An' blyth is the hame-gaun at e'en o'er the brae ;
The muircock is calling, the wild hare rins free
But alas ! my dear heart, all my sighin's for thee !
THE AULD FIDDLER'S FAREWELL
TO SPOTTISWOOD
(To the tune of The American Dwarf country dance)
SNAWY an' dreary
An' blawy an' eerie
The nicht it had fa'en, an' my haps they were few.
When tremblin' an' blinkin'
To the door I cam shrinkin'
O' Marget an' Eleanor, Alice an' Hugh.
A lodgin' an' dinner
They gi'ed the auld sinner,
The fire an' the whiskey sune warmed me a' thro'.
211
2 1 2 THE A ULD FIDDLER'S FARE WELL
Then me an' my fiddle
Were set in the middle
O' Marget an' Eleanor, Alice an' Hugh.
3
Mad with the Houlachan,
Glad till they cool again,
"The Sow's tail to Geordie" I play them sae
true.
Then reelin' an' skreighin'
To " The Castle o' Brechin "
Are Marget an' Eleanor, Alice an' Hugh.
4
Faster an' dafter
The fiddlin' an' laughter,
Leddy Warrender's loupin' an' flingin' for two.
THE AULD FIDDLER'S FAREWELL 213
Miss Rose an' Augusta
Bang round in a cluster
Wi' Marget an' Eleanor, Alice an' Hugh.
(ENVOI)
Hearin' ye've a Paper written by folk o' a' ages,
I humbly offer a sang for ane o' its pages,
Wi' mony thanks frae my fiddle an' seP to ye a'.
Ye've keepit us gaun, an' made us baith fu' an'
bra'.
That Spottiswood may ne'er want roset or
whiskey
Is the earnest wish
O' your auld drunken fiddler an' servant,
George McLish.
FOREIGN
CHANSON
CALME-TOI ! La vie n'a plus pour nous
Les jours de fete, les joies,
Le delire d'autrefois.
Ah ! ils sont passes tous.
Calme-toi !
Ton coeur est dechire",
Je vois la lutte affreuse ;
Mais crois-tu, malheureuse !
Que tu as seule pleure ?
Calme-toi !
217
JOYEUSE
ES-TU comme autrefois douce et belle, Joyeuse,
D'une beaute" que je croyais immortelle, Joyeuse ?
Chantes-tu encore de ta voix se'duisante, Joyeuse ?
Plus que oiseau, plus que luth, tendre et charmante
Joyeuse !
Est-ce que la nature sail toujours te plaire,
Joyeuse ?
L'ombre du soir, le bois solitaire, Joyeuse ?
Ah ! que nous e"tions heureux dans ces jours,
Joyeuse !
Tranquilles et calmes et purs comme nos amours,
Joyeuse !
218
JO YE USE 219.
Sans pitie 1'ame, et dur le cceur, Joyeuse !
Qui pouvait trembler un tel bonheur, Joyeuse !
Tes pensees d'alors, je les connaissais si bien,
Joyeuse !
De tes pensees d'aujourd'hui, absolument rien,.
Joyeuse !
Es-tu seule en ce monde ou je suis seul, Joyeuse ?
Le front rayonnant et gai, le cceur en deuil r
Joyeuse ?
La vie, pour toi, est-elle triste et noire, Joyeuse,
Sans lumiere, sans joie, et sans espoir, Joyeuse ?
AFTER THE SCARLET .PEVER 1874
RIVENGO, rivengo dai lidi dolenti.
Rivedo il sole, i prati ridenti.
Ma solo ritorno, tremante il pie,
La voce amata si tace per me !
La voce amata si tace per me !
220
HYMNS
i KINGS xix. ii, 12
AT the lightning and the thunder
I shook with awe and wonder.
But in the crash I heard
Distinctly word by word
A still small voice which said,
" 'Tis I be not afraid."
HYMN
FATHER ! As Thou art great in power, be great to
spare,
Lay not upon me more than I can bear.
My heart beats low, my eyes are dim with tears,
And I am old in grief, though young in years.
Father ! I pray Thee, for Jesus' sake,
Lighten this burden, or my heart will break ;
On the dark future shed one glimmering ray,
Grant me one hope, to cheer me on my way.
224
HYMN 22$
Father ! Avert the evils that have sprung
From lying lips, and a deceitful tongue ;
Confound the malice of my foes unseen,
And grant me gentler thoughts than theirs have
been.
HYMN
" FATHER ! Let me rest where shadows lie
And cold dews fall. Too fervently
Hath the red sun looked on me ; worn, oppressed,
I faint beneath its rays. Oh ! let me rest."
" Not yet. Thy warfare is not past.
The howling storm must come, and bitter blast,
And cold rain, by the wild winds driven. Thy part
Is to withstand, with firm unshrinking heart."
" Father, it is done ! Now let me rest
Where storms can never reach me, calm and blest.
My field is fought, my weary task is o'er ;
Oh ! send me back to the wild world no more."
226
HYMN 227
" Still must thou journey on. The night,
Silent and lonely, on thy troubled sight,
Shall gather fast, without one cheering ray ;
And thro' that heavy darkness lies thy way."
" Father ! At Thy feet subdued I fall.
Day breaks. Thy hand hath guided me thro' all.
Thou knowest my wayward heart, and what is best
To calm its fever. In that faith I rest."
"Thy wanderings all are o'er. Rest now !
Peace to thy weary heart and aching brow.
In shadowy bowers, by valleys still and deep,
Where quiet waters flow lie down and sleep."
(1841.)
FAMILY
MARCHMONT 1834
I MUST be sad ! It is a vain endeavour
To smile, when all within is gloom and pain.
It is our last day now, and we may never
Meet in this cold and dreary world again.
The last ! A gloom o'er all is cast
By that sad thought, the last !
But we will watch the setting sun together
On the old trees and moorland as before.
Still may I watch the bright or stormy weather,
But with thee by my side Oh ! never more !
The last ! A gloom o'er all is cast
By that sad thought, the last !
232 MARCHMONT
Sing with me our old songs, the wildest, saddest,
That I may dwell on every thrilling tone,
We sang them nightly, when our hearts were
gladdest ;
Sing them again, e'er our last day is gone.
The last ! A gloom o'er all is cast
By that sad thought, the last !
"TO MY SISTER IN HEAVEN"
THOU dwellest far above the starry sky,
My sorrow cannot move thee nor the cry
Of mortal anguish ever reach thine ears,
My grief is lonely now unheeded fall my tears !
I know thou hear'st me not ; thou would'st return
With thine own smile, and bid me not to mourn,
And comfort me, and tell me even Above
Thy soul was bound to mine in deathless love.
How often did we talk in former years
Of Death and all our anxious hopes and fears !
I little thought his seal was on thy brow,
His shadow on thy heart I know it now !
233
234 " TO MY SISTER IN HE A VEN"
There was a beauty in thy large soft eye,
Bright but yet mournful, like the lights which lie
On hill and sea before the close of day
Ere its last beams have faded quite away.
And in thy glorious voice there was a tone,
A deep wild sadness that was all its own ;
Except the rushing streams, and moaning wind
No earthly sound recalls it to my mind.
I miss thy step upon the lone hill-side,
I miss thee on the moorland still and wide,
I miss thee singing in thy favourite bowers
At morn among the green leaves and the flowers.
I miss thee in the dark hour of distress,
And my soul faints with hopeless weariness ;
" TO MY SISTER IN HEA VEN" 235
Thou art not near to cheer and to sustain,
And say, " Doubt not, all will be well again ! "
In every thought I miss thee ; we alone
Had dreams and memories to all else unknown.
They sleep for ever now ! That hand is cold
Whose touch awaked their chords, in days of old !
41 YOUR VOICES ARE NOT HUSHED " 1
" YOUR voices are not hushed,"
No bitter tear is shed,
Your spirits are uncrushed,
And she is with the dead !
Do ye not miss her voice
And the light of her glorious eyes ?
No, ye can still rejoice,
While she in her cold grave lies.
Since she was smiling here
But few short years have fled ;
1 Written at Marchmont in 1842, three years after her
sister's death.
2 3 6
"YOUR VOICES ARE NOT HUSHED" 237-
Your laugh is on my ear,
And she is with the dead !
Do ye not pine to see
Her radiant face again ?
No, in your careless glee
No thoughts of the dead remain !:
O'er all the joyous earth
The Spring's soft light is shed,
Her home is filled with mirth,
And she is with the dead !
Have ye no thought or care
That the light of our life is gone ?'
No, in my deep despair,
I feel I am all alone 1
TO JOHN AND ANDREW 1
WHEN I am gone, I charge thee to remember
Fondly and faithfully through joy and pain,
In the sunny days of June, in the dark nights of
December
The old times that cannot come again.
Those old times ! So lov'd, so cherished,
Our own hearts whispered that they could not
last,
All but their memory from the earth hath perished,
And I conjure thee to keep that fast.
'The unbroken band of sisters and of brothers
Upon this weary earth can meet no more.
1 Her brothers.
2 3 8
TO JOHN AND ANDRE W 239
We who remain, we cannot give to others
The love, the trust that bound us all of yore.
Nor need we give them. We should hoard them
rather,
They are not lost ! We have not lov'd in vain !
The time will come, when God Himself shall
gather
The children to their Father's home again.
(Spottiswood, 1841.)
"AFTER MY BROTHER JOHN'S
DEATH "
THE spring he so loved welleth still
From the dark mountain's brow ;
The dotterel come back to the hills,
But he heedeth not now !
The fox, by the horn's merry sounds,
Is roused from his lair;
They ride to the cry of the hounds,
But he rideth not there !
The woods where he wandered are fair
In the spring, as of yore ;
But cared for and loved as they were,
He will see them no more !
240
ON MY BROTHER JOHN
(Died 1846)
I SAID, " I ask neither care nor pity,
For my present and future are bright."
God said, " Ye have no abiding city,
Ye must seek one out of sight."
I said, "Thou art my hope, I need no other,
My comfort and my refuge to the end."
God said, " There is One that sticketh closer than
a brother,
And He must be thy friend."
Q 241
242 ON MY BROTHER JOHN
I said, " My life without Thee were lonely,
So cherished and so dear Thou art ;
I love Thee first, I love Thee only."
God said, " Give me thy heart."
TO
MANY a year has passed since we two parted,
Bringing sunshine to the Heavens and flowers to
the plain ;
But the freshness of the Spring reaches not the
weary-hearted,
Light and joy to them may never come again !
I wander by the hill-sides, sad and lonely,
Careless of all that made me glad of yore ;
The wild bird's song I heed not, thinking only,
Of one low voice, that I shall hear no more !
I turn from the blue skies, forlorn and weeping,
Haunted by memories of a day long past,
243
244 TO
When storms were gathering round, and wintry
winds were sweeping,
And I watched thy parting look, and felt it was
the last.
There is an hour when silent stars are gleaming,
And the cold moon shines forth, for which I pine;
For then I know when that pure light is beaming,
Tho' I see thee not, and hear thee not, thy spirit
meeteth mine.
In my worn heart, a sad but peaceful feeling,
Calming its restlessness, soothing its bitter pain,
Stilling its murmurs, in those shadowy rays is
stealing,
Answering its torturing doubt, "Shall we two
meet again ? "
TO 245
" On earth no more ! " Our last farewell is spoken !
But a few years of gloom and suffering past ;
And we, who wander drearily, desolate and heart-
broken,
Parted for ever here shall meet in Heaven at
last.
THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH'S
BIRTHDAY
(November 25)
COLD is the blast of November's dark morning,
But warm are the wishes that hail its returning.
Together we bring thee with deepest emotion,
Our Chieftain and Father, our heart's best
devotion.
Kinsmen and clansmen, join in the chorus,
Long may we follow where he leads before us !
Fair may he flourish, whatever betide us,
The oak that will shelter, the star that will guide
us.
246
DUKE OF BUCCLEUCfTS BIRTHDA Y 247
His foot on his foes, his clan at his order,
The dread of the Southern, the pride of the Border.
Heartily, joyfully, raise the loud chorus,
Long may we follow where he leads before us !
Light be his step on the braes of the forest
In summer's long day, or when winter is sorest.
Lighter his heart, may no sorrow be deeper
Than the pity he gives to the mourner and weeper.
Ettrick and Yarrow echo the chorus,
Long may we follow where he leads before us !
Like the rock on the mountain, his hand is the
surest,
Like the badge on his bonnet, his heart is the
purest.
248 DUKE OF BUCCLEUCHS BIRTHDAY
Life to him ! Health to him ! Gladness for ever,
Our Chieftain and Father, whose equal was never.
Louder and wilder ring out the chorus,
Long may we follow where he leads before us !
PERSONAL
TO H. H. C.
MOURN not for me ! As the mountain burn
Tho' it wander away, will in mist return ;
As the plover, though borne on unwearying wing
To distant lands, will come back in Spring ;
As the wandering wind goes wildly forth
From our hills, but returns to its home in the
North ;
As the heather flowers, though they fade and wane,
Will blossom red on the moors again ;
So I, tho' I go for a time away,
I bid you look to a brighter day,
With the heather flowers on the sunny brae,
251
252 TO ff. H. C.
With the wild North wind, with the wandering
bird,
When his first shrill note of joy is heard,
With the dewy spring and the mountain rain,
You shall welcome me home to the hills again !
(October*), 1853.)
MARCH 16, 1857
WATCH with me here to-night !
Ghosts of the past come stealing on my sight,
All dark and veiled. They range them in their
place
Say shall we dare to meet them face to face !
A mournful train and long !
Wailing of grief and sin and death and wrong,
Of time misspent, of talents misapplied,
Of duties spurned, of blessings thrown aside.
What bring they but despair !
Pass on, dark phantoms. More we cannot bear !
253
254 MARCH 1 6, 1857
Is there indeed no gleam of hope to cast
One bright ray onwards from the stormy past?
In their sad chant I hear
One tone of ringing music, low but clear,
Like morning winds, like waters in a glen,
Like wild-birds, far above the haunts of men.
O phantoms of the past !
Hope springeth ev'n from you ! From first to last
That calm pure note o'er grief, remorse and tears,
Hath borne us conquerors thro' the storms of
years !
THE FOUL FORDS
THE muirs and the waters remain !
The road ower the brae
We sae aft used to gae,
But Jamie is gane !
And noo I gang wanderin' my lane !
I keep frae them a',
I've nae spirit ava
Sin' Jamie is gane !
He'll ne'er come to Rathock again !
He's seen others ower fair,
And he minds me nae mair,
And Jamie is gane !
255
256 THE FOUL FORDS
Parting was never sic pain !
For hope it was strang
That it wasna for lang !
But Jamie is gane !
I ken that my grief is in vain,
Yet my heart's like to break,
I wad die for his sake
And Jamie is gane !
KATH'RINE LOGIE
WHEN the sun sets o'er the lily lea,
And the night is gath'ring silently ;
Oh, then my lane I mourn for thee,
My dearest Kath'rine Logic !
I wander awa' by the Heuchwood Scaur,
And silently gaze on the ev'ning star ;
And I mind thy face that was bonnier far,
My loveliest Kath'rine Logic !
The bird upon the forest tree,
Singing his wildest melody,
Had na a voice as sweet as thee,
My darling Kath'rine Logic !
R 257
258 KATHARINE LOG IE
The bright munebeam is no' sae fair
As the light that play'd on thy gowden hair ;
Wae's me ! I shall never see thee mair,
My sweetest Kath'rine Logic !
Thou art far abune this warld o' pain,
Where I maun wander dark and lane,
For the light o' my life wi' thee is gane,
My dearest Kath'rine Logic.
THINK ON ME.
When I no more behold thee,
Think on me !
By all thine eyes have told me,
Think on me !
When hearts are lightest,
When eyes are brightest,
When griefs are slightest,
Think on me !
In all thine hours of gladness,
Think on me !
If e'er I soothed thy sadness,
Think on me !
259
260 THINK ON ME!
When foes are by thee,
When woes are nigh thee,
When friends all fly thee,
Think on me !
When thou hast none to cheer thee,
Think on me !
When no fond heart is near thee,
Think on me !
When lonely sighing,
O'er pleasures flying,
When hope is dying,
Think on me !
"AE SMILE BEFORE WE PART."
" AE smile before we part, lassie,
To cheer me on my way,
Ae word to calm the struggling heart
That wad, but daurna stay !
" This sorrow winna last, lassie,
The year is on the wane,
But e'er the Spring be past, lassie,
I will be back again."
" Farewell, sin we maun part, laddie,
My blessing gang wi' thee ;
But seek nae cheer frae a cheerless heart,
For I hae nane to gie.
261
262 "AE SMILE BEFORE WE PART"
"Your path lies far awa, laddie,
An' this hour o' bitter pain,
Ye'll sune forget it a', laddie,
An' ye will not come again."
"The sun nae mair may rise, lassie,
The stars from Heaven may flee,
The mune may leave the skies, lassie,
But I'll come back to thee ! "
He's mounted and ta'en his way,
Thro' the wintry wind an' rain,
An' she's watched for him mony a weary day
But he never cam again.
SONG
SPEAK for thy words are honey-dew to me ;
Look for thine eyes are all I care to see ;
Smile for thy smile belongs to me alone,
And keep thy tears and sighs till I am gone !
Oh ! when I wander far away from thee,
Wilt thou then weep, as now thou weep'st for me ?
Or are thy tears soon shed and quickly dried,
And hast thou smiles for all the world beside ?
Alas ! I feel I wrong thy gentle heart !
Yet, bear with me so hard it is to part,
That ev'n my faith seems changed to cold distrust,
And where I love most, I am most unjust !
263
SONG
MUST we two part ?
We that have lov'd so well,
Better than words can tell ;
Then break my heart.
When first we met,
The very earth grew bright,
My life seem'd turned to light ;
Canst thou forget ?
Oh ! in those hours
The air was balm to me,
Each path I trod with thee
All strewn with flowers.
264
SONG 265
I had no care,
The stormy past was gone,
The future all our own,
Cloudless and fair.
Hope comes no more,
I see thee changed and cold,
Thy smiles not those of old ;
My dream is o'er.
Yes ! We must part,
Thou seest my bitter woe,
Yet thou art glad to go ;
Break ! break ! my heart !
SONG
I WOULD that I had never met thee !
I would I could, ev'n now, forget thee.
Heav'n knows I love thee and that love how vain
Cherish'd so long, to end in hopeless pain.
What will life be to me without thee ?
I had so twined my thoughts about thee,
So looked to thee in sorrow and in mirth,
In good and ill, as all my hope on earth.
Even in my grief I do not blame thee,
Thou hast far dearer ties to claim thee
But wide the gulf between my thoughts and thine
Gladness is in thy heart despair in mine !
266
SONG
Lonely my life will be,
Yet shall I know
It's gloom will cast no shade o'er thee,
Therefore I go.
Our paths must distant be.
By land or sea,
I have no place with thee !
Turn those sweet eyes on me
Yet once again,
That I may bear their memory
Through years of pain.
Our paths must distant be.
By land or sea,
I have no place with thee !
267
268 SONG
Speak to me e'er we part.
Thy voice's tone
Will be the music of my heart
When I am gone.
Our paths must distant be.
By land or sea,
I have no place with thee !
Shed not one tear for me.
I ask it not.
My only wish is now to be
By thee forgot !
Our paths must distant be.
By land or sea,
I have no place with thee !
A FRAGMENT
Do I forget thee ?
Ask the hills where we have wandered !
They echo but thy name.
The flowers thou lovedst !
No others bloom for me.
The stars we used to gaze on !
No night do they shine forth,
But I thro' tears do fix my eyes on them,
And think that other eyes are gazing.
Yet ask it not of these.
Deep voices have they, but
To the doubting heart
They are all silent !
269
270 A FRAGMENT
Look at me ! Thou wilt see
The waste thy memory hath made.
My eyes are dim with weeping for thee !
My cheek is pale with watching for thee !
My voice is faint with praying for thee !
My heart is worn with pining for thee !
These all will witness to my misery
Thou never art forgotten !
(Ravenstar* Act III. Scene 4.)
A FRAGMENT
WHEN the young buds are waking in the woods,
When flowers are springing on the dewy plain,
When the wild bird leads out his glossy brood,
I shall not wander forth again.
On hill and rock the laughing Spring
Her fairest wreaths may reckless fling,
For me, 'twill be in vain.
When dreamingly the purple hills repose
Beneath the brightness of a summer sky ;
When the shrunk stream with broken murmuring
flows
271
272 A FRAGMENT
I shall not hear it as it wanders by.
When breezes cool the evening hours,
Rich with the scent of heather flowers,
I shall not feel their sigh.
3
When thro' the yellow woods at eventide
The homeward hunter's bugle note is borne ;
When the dark muir-cock from the mountain-side
Revels at sunset in the waving corn ;
When harvest songs ring wild and clear,
No sounds of earth will reach my ear,
Either at eve or morn !
A FRAGMENT
WHAT is the world to me ? Can it give back those
years
Too dearly prized too quickly fled
Their memory chokes my voice and blinds my eyes
with tears,
Can it give back the Dead ?
2
What is the world to me ? . . .
273
"O MOTHER! LET ME WEEP"
ftm
O MOTHER ! Let me weep. Thou knowest not
How I have longed to rest
This weary head and aching heart
Upon thy quiet breast.
And thus, when I have reached this home at last,
The pent-up grief of years,
The anguish of my soul breaks forth,
In this wild burst of tears !
O Mother ! Let me weep. Dreams of my home
Rush thro' my giddy brain,
274
"0 MOTHER! LET ME WEEP" 275
And memories of old happy times
That will not come again,
Take me where I may see my own blue hills,
And hear the wild wind blow ;
Lead me to those still waters where
I wandered long ago !
O Mother ! Let me weep. Full well I know
There is no rest for me,
But in the damp and lonely grave
Where my soul faints to be !
Yet I have one last hope (which makes
My tears fall down like rain)
That I may lay my dying head
In my childhood's home again.
276 MOTHER ! LET ME WEEP"
Oh Mother ! Let me weep. I do not mourn
That life and I must part.
I would not even on our own hills
Dwell with a broken heart.
CHRISTABELLE
THY lute, Christabelle ! Where is thy lute ?
Its strings are broken, its chords are mute.
To be ruler of Scotland's wide domain
I would not waken its sounds again.
Thy wreath, Christabelle ! Where is thy wreath ?
Its flow'rs are trodden my feet beneath ;
And not for all that this earth could give
Would I bid those wither'd roses live.
Thy ring, Christabelle ! Where is thy ring ?
The deep sea holds the worthless thing.
Could the waves reject it, the winds restore,
It should never fetter my finger more.
277
278 CHRISTABELLE
Thy heart, Christabelle ! Where is thy heart ?
Shiver'd and broken in every part.
I may live thro' years of sorrow and pain,
I shall never wish it whole again.
Thy hope, Christabelle ! Where is thy hope ?
Not upon earth, it has higher scope.
Where nothing is false, and all is fair,
In the Kingdom of Heav'n, my hope is
there !
FAREWEEL
Fareweel !
My heart beats low and fast,
Its griefs will sune be past,
Cauld death is come at last.
Fareweel !
Fareweel !
Tho' I ken my mortal e'e
Your lov'd face nae mair will see
It wilUhaunt me till I dee.
Fareweel !
279
28o FAREWEEL
Fareweel !
I needna tell ye noo,
For alas ! ower weel ye knew
That my love was deep and true.
Fareweel !
Fareweel !
I kenned to my despair
Twas a weary love and sair,
But 'twill burden ye nae mair.
Fareweel !
Fareweel !
My step will ne'er again,
Over hill and over plain,
Follow on through wind and rain.
Fareweel !
FAREWEEL 281
Fareweel !
Ye will wander lane and chill,
An' whiles upon the hill
Will ye think ye see me still ?
Fareweel !
Fareweel !
Will ye sometimes miss the strain
Ye will never hear again ?
It was breathed for you alane.
Fareweel !
Fareweel !
Will ye gently think o' me?
Will ye pity an' forgie
Ane wha dee'd for love o' thee ?
Fareweel !
REMORSE
FOR the anguish I have wrought thee,
For the ties that I have riven,
For the sorrow I have brought thee,
Shall I never be forgiven ?
For the harsh words I have spoken,
For my bitter thoughts of thee.
For thy joyous spirit broken,
Is there pardon yet for me ?
For the hopes that I have blighted,
Leaving ashes in their place,
For the warm heart chilled and slighted,
Can I dare to ask for grace ?
282
REMORSE 283
No ! My grief is unavailing,
Words can never be unsaid,
Nor remorse nor bitter wailing,
Wring forgiveness from the dead !
(1874.)
NEW YEAR'S EVE. SPOTTISWOOD
(1872)
SILENT and dark ! Yet full of light to me.
The dead are near, all I most long to see.
Sweet eyes are shining on me,
Softest voices sigh,
" Keep faith with us ! Keep faith with us ! " they
cry.
Lonely and sad ! Yet full of life and sound,
Footsteps well-known, long-lost, are gathering
round ;
Bright looks are bending o'er me,
Smiles about them play,
" Be true to us ! Be true to us ! " they say !
284
NEW YEAR'S EVE 285
Faithful and true, to your dead love am I !
Why say I " Dead ? " Our love can never die.
Bright dreams may vanish from me,
Shadowy forms depart,
Ye live for ever deep within my heart !
WRITTEN AT THURSO
WILD rave the winds of winter o'er thy head,
Dark fall the shadows round thy narrow bed,
Lonely I keep my mournful watch by thee,
Here, where thou liest by the stormy sea.
Oh ! canst thou hear my bitter cry,
Where thy sweet spirit dwells above the sky ?
Oh ! dost thou see my wild despair,
Can my soul's anguish reach thee even there ?
No tear may dim the glory of the blest,
No stormy passions break thy peaceful rest.
No cry of human grief, no throb of pain,
Can reach thy heart, my only love, again.
286
WRITTEN AT THURSO 287
Oh ! could I hear one answering tone,
Where now I mourn in darkness and alone.
Mute ! Mute ! No voice or sign from thee,
Only the howling wind and murmuring sea.
(1875.)
"LONELY AND STILL"
LONELY and still, I think with sad amaze
On my free, fearless life of other days ;
And mournfully recall the vanish'd time,
I found no craig or hill too steep to climb,
No burn to wade too wide, or deep, or strong,
No steed too fiery, and no way too long.
No blast too bitter from the hill could blow,
Whether of driving rain, or drifting snow.
All, all is changed ! Yet I should not despond,
In earthly sorrow I should look beyond,
To that great day, when all whose faith is true
Shall mount on eagle's pinions, and renew,
288
' ' L ON EL Y AND STILL " 289
With those they loved, from whom they had to part
In former years with tears and breaking heart,
Their happy youth changeless and strong and
pure,
No fear, or sin, or grief ; it shall endure
Eternal in the Heavens ; we have His word
That they shall be for ever with the Lord. 1
1 Written not long before her death.
"I SEE THEM NOT"
I SEE them not ; I hear them -not ;
Their life on earth is o'er.
But every day that passes
I miss them more and more.
Surely if we had parted
Never to meet again,
Time would have soothed, and absence dulled,
This ceaseless bitter pain.
And yet this earth is small,
Age after age has passed ;
290
"I SEE THEM NOT" 291
Where could they dwell who hope to rest
In happiness at last !
O slow of heart, were there not thousands fed
On five small loaves of bread ?
(SPOTTISWOOD, November 1899.')
1 The last lines she wrote.
THE END
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