NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES 3 3433 08254629 6 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/biographicaldict02cham i \ I I ZnAraved. tr/ S . Freeman. k E^j^.^ ^.L B!E^T< A.TTDREVS.&c.&c, 'W AT HOLYROOD-IiOUSE. HLiCKLE & SOF GLASGOW. EDMBURGH • A BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY EMINENT SCOTSMEN. EDITED BY ROBERT CHA^IBERS, ONE OF TUE EDirOES OF "CHAMBEEs's EDINBUKGH JOURNAL. NEW EDITION, REVISED AND CONTINUED TO THE PRESENT TIME. WITH NUMEROUS PORTEAITS. DIVISION II. BROWN-DALEYMPLE, BLACKIE AND SON: GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND LONDON. MDCCCLHI. ^ THE I^FW YOKK PUBLIC LIBRARY ASTOR. LENOX AND ' ' "ILDEN FOUNDATIONS ' R 1921 L GLA.SGOW: W. Q. BLACKIE AKO CO., PEINTBBS, VILLAPIELD. Engncvcl "by "W- Honriaon . Gfl[F,CT©0^ FLRCT pmNClPAL OF KING'S COLLEGE, ABEKDF.P',: KKOM 'I'llK ORJOTRAL PAINTING. IN THAT COLIBGE. ;;0N. OLASOOW, EDINBUROH 8- liOJIDON. L J. ffiley BISHOP OP SAT.IF.BTTRY BJJ^CKIE fe SOU, GLASGOV, / -.-ng-avpfl by S 5:^66111311 . s: llE^y ^.%MT, EOE ABERDF.r.TI **irfe. DrajTE "by T, Fry. EnAraved by VL Hoi. Y>%'U//'iJ. .^w VISOOU^T STAIR. FROM THE ORBIGINAL IN POSSESSION OF MISS DAIEYMPIE OF HAII BtACKlEfcSOH.&IASGOW. EBISBURM SclOTrDOK ^©1 ^N \i?A, \i\Y.\j r/v:- •VM. ;■: /■ II- 'ilASOOW: KDIM Engraved "ly S . fteeman . UEV. JAMES G[^Al}flA6^E. AUTHOR OF "THE SABBATH." fcc. KHOM A MINIATURE DJ POSSESSION OP ROBEKT GRAHAME OF WniTEHnj.. BIJiCKIE & SON. Gl&SGOW. EDINbDRGUa lONC^ ' . Ain'HOR OF 'An TN9UJRY ON THE NATIONAL DEBT'i; \\ILLIAM LAWRENCE BROWN, D.D. 321 In London, to uhicli he immediately proceeded, he met with a friendly re- ception from lord Auckland, to wlioni lie had become known during his loid- sliip's residence as ambassador at the Hague, and who now exerted liimself so warmly in iiis favour, that he was, in the course of a few montiis, appointed ti> succeed Dr Cauipbell, as professor of divinity in the Marischal college, Aber- deen ; to wliicii hont)urable appointment was soon alter addtd, that of principal of the same college. We are informed by the writer of the life of Ur l^irown, in the Ency- cl()pa?dia I'ritannica, that " this new prol'essorship imposed upon him a very serious task, that of composing a course of theological k^t;tures, extend- ing over five sessions. After a review of the dirterenl systems of religion which lay claim to a divine origin, he discussed most amply the evidence and doctrines of natural religion. He then proceeded to the evidences of re vealed religion, of which he gave a very full and learned view. Ihe christiar scheme formed the next snl iect of an inquiry, in which the peculiar doc- trines of Christianity were very extensively unfolded. Christian ethics were also explained; and it formed part of his original plan, to treat of all the great controversies that have agitated the religious world. liiis portion of the course was not, however, completed." Besides attending to the duties of his chair, and of his principality, Dr Brown officiated as one of the ministers of the West church in Aberdeen. A volume of his sermons appeared in 1803. He also occasionally attended the (General Assembly, where his manly eloquence and impressive mode of speaking, caused him to be listened to with great re- spect, though he never arrived at the character of a leader. While discharging every public duty with zeal and efficacy, he did not neglect his favourite pur- suits of literature. In 1809, he published "Philemon, or the Progress of Virtue, a poem," lidinburgh, 2 vols, octavo; and in 1816, appeared his greatest literary effiirt, " An Essay on the Existence of a Supreme Creator," Aberdeen, 2 vols, octavo. The latter was the successful competing essay, among fifty, for Burnet's first prize of ^£1250; the second, of .£iOO, being awarded to Dr Sumner, afterwards bishop of Chester. Dr Brown also wrote a few pamphlets upon passing occurrences, political and otherwise ; and one or two articles in Latin, relating to formalities in tlie university over which he presided. His last considerable work was " A Comparative View of Chris- tianity, and of the other Forms of Religion which ha existed, and still exist in the World, particularly with regard to their Moral Tendency," Edinburgh, 2 vols, octavo, 1S2G. In addition to the preferments already mentioned, Dr Brown was honoured, in 1800, with tlie appointment of chaplain in ordinary to the king; and, in 1804, was nominated dean of the (Jhapel-royal, and of the order of the Thistle. He was, last of all, in 1825, appointe\Titer, llie son of the Rev. Samuel ]'ro\\n, minister of tiie jiarisii of Kirkniabicck in tlie stewarty of Kirkc'.idbriqht, was boin at tiie manse of that parish, January i), 177iS. Deprived of his fallier «hen between one and t\vo years ohl, 'I'liomas J'rown was conveyed to 1 dinburgh, ^^here for some years he lived under the charge of his widowed mother. By her lie \vas taught the elements of learning at a singularly early ago, acquiring the a\ hole alphabet, it is said, by one ellbrt, or, to use other words, in one lesson, and every thing else with the same amazing facility. When between four and five years of age, he was able to read the scriptures, and also, it would appear, partly to understand them; one day, at that period of his life, he was found silting on the lloor of his mother's parlour, witli a large lamily bible on his knee, which he was dividing into different parts with his hand; being asived jocularly if he intended to preach, and was now choosing a text, he said, " \o, I am only wishing to see what the evangelists difl'er in ; for they do not all give the same account of Christ.'' From the kindly tutelage <;f his mother he was removed in the seventh year of his age, and placed by his maternal uncle. Captain Smith, in a school at Camberwell, from which in a short time he was transferred to one at Chiswick, where he continued for some years. In these and two other academies he spent the years between seven and fourteen, and acquired a perfect classical education. In 1702, he returned to the maternal roof at Edinburgh, and commenced a course of attendance at the University. At this period of his life he was deeply read in the English belles lettres, and had even collected a considerable library, which, however, was lost at sea in its passage from ETigiaml to Scotland. Having gone to Liverpool to spend the vacation of 1793 with some friends, he became, boy as he was, the intimate friend of Dr Currie, the amiable biogi'apher of Burns, Avho is believed to have been the first cause of his dix'ecting his mind to metaphysical studies by placing in his hands the first volumes of Professor Dugald Stewart's " Elements of the Philoso- phy of the Human i\Iind," then just published. The impressions lie received from this work were deepened next winter, when he attended its author's prelections in tiie moral philosophy class at Edinburgh college. Yet, much as he aduiired Pi-ofessor Stewart, he did not fail, even at the early age of sixteen, to detect that deficiency of analysis, which often lurks under the majestically flowing veil of his language and imagery. According to the late L)r. Welsh, whose very pleasing memoir of Dr Brown is here followed, the scholar took an early opportunity of presenting to his master a few remarks which he had thrown together in reference to one of his theories. " Those who remember the digni- fied demeanour of Mr Stewart in his class, which was calculated to convey the idea of one of those great and gifted men who were seen among tlie groves of the Academy, will duly appreciate the boldness of our young philosopher. With great modesty he read his observations; to which Mr Stewart, with a candour that was to be expected from a philosopher, but which not the less on that ac- count did him infinite honour, listened patiently, and then, with a smile of won- der and admiration, read to him a letter which he had x-eceived from the distinguished M. Provost of Geneva, containing the same argument which Dr Brown had stated." This delightful incident was the commencement of an ac- quaintance between the master and tiie pupil, which led to more intimate rela- tions, and only ended with the death of Dr Brown. The varied and profound acquirements of tliis extraordinary young man, soon attracted to hiiu the atten- tion and friendship of many other personages, distinguished by academic rank and literary reputation, especially Professors Robison, Playfair, and Black, and Messrs Horner, Leyden, Reddie, and Erskine. Ere he had completed his twentieth year, he was led, by the spirit of philosophical inquiry, to write " Ob- THOMAS BROWN. 323 servatioiis upon Dr Darwin's Zoonomia," in a pamphlet wliicli far stiqiassed the work which had called it forth. It appeared in 1798, and, while it excited astonishment in those who knew the years of the author, was received in other quarters as the work of a veteran in philosophy. Dr. Welsh justly characterises it as one of the most remarkai)le exemplifications of premature intellect which lias ever been exhibited, and states that, though unfortunate in its object, and the exposure of an unworthy production, it is found to contain the germ of all Dr Brown's subsequent discovories as to mind, and of those principles of piiiloso- phizing by which he was guided in his future inquiries. Dr Brown at this time belonged to an association of young men, whi(;b, whether from its peculiar object, the celebrity since acquired by several of its memljers, or one remarkable result of its existence, must be acknowledged as possessing no ordinary claims to attention. It was called the Academy of Physics, and its ol)ject is described in the minutes of its first meeting to have been, '' the investigation of nature, the laws by which her phenomena ai-e regulated, and the history of opinions concerning these laws." The first members were Messrs Brougham, Erskine, Reddie, Frown, Uogerson, Birbeck, Logan, and Leyden ; to whom were aftei'wards joined Lord Webb Sey- mour, the Rev. Sydney Smith, and Messrs Horner, Jeflrey, and dillespie. The Academy prosecuted its investigations with great assiduity and success for about three years ; like many other clubs, the spirit in which it was origin.ated began to change with the changed yeai-s, and altered views of its members; it ilagged, failed, and was finally broken up. The remarkable result of its existence, above alluded to, was the cstablislimont of the Fdinlmrgh Review. Tiie first writers in this work were Jeffrey', lirougliani, Sydney Smith, Horner, and Crown. Tne leading article of the second number, upon Kant's pliilosopliy, was by tlic last of these gentlemen. Mr. Brown, however, did not long continue to contribute ; a misunderstanding with the gentleman who superintended tlie publication of the third number, regarding some liberties taken with one of his articles, was the cause of bis retirement. Brow^n's first ideas as to a profession, led him to choose the bar, and for a twelvemonth ho prosecuted the dry studies of the law. An insurmountable repugnance, however, to this pursuit caused liim afterwards to study medicine. He obtained his degree of M.D. in 1803, on which occasion he was honoured with the highest commendations from Dr Gregoiy, not only f«)r his proficiency in medical learning, but for the amazingly fluent and elegant style of bis Lalinity, of which no one could judge better tlian tl)at learned professor, liim- sclf acknowledged to be tlic best L.itinist of his time in Scotland. Previous to tliis period, namely in 1800, when he was only twenty-two years of age, his friends had, unsuccessfully, endeavoured to obtain for him the chair of rhetoric; bnt a system by which the clergy of the university scat were almost, invariably prcfori-ed totlie vacant chairs, blasted bis hopes on this occasion. This disippointment, with his antipathy to the courtly party of the church, by which it was patronized, seems to have inspired him with a vehement aversion to a system, which can only bo palliated by a consiileration of tlie narrow stipends then enjoyed by the clergy, and the propriety of enriching, by this oblique means, the prospects wliieli were to induce men of abilities to enter the church. Upon the promotion of Mr Playfair to the chair of Natural Philosophy, Mr Leslie competed for the vacant cliair of iNIathe- matics with a clergyman whose attainments in that study, thougli more than respect- able, certainly could not be placed on an equality with those of tlie opposing candi- date. The church party, knowing that they could not make out any superior qualifications in their candidate on the score of mathematics, endeavoured to produce the same effect oj depreciating Mr Leslie's qualifications on the score of religion. Their proof lay in a note to I\Ir Leslie's essay on heat, containing an expression of approbation respecting Hume's doctrine of causation. The can- 324 THOMAS BROWN. vass, which lay in the town-council, was the c.uise of ereat excitement in the literary world, and for some time absorbed every other topic of discourse iii Edinburg'h. Dr Urown was tempted by his feelings on tliis subject to come for- ward with an essay, disprovinij the inferences which were di-awn from I\Ir Les- lie's note ; an essay which, in a subsequent edition, he expanded into a complete treatise on cause and e.'foct. Through the influence of this powerful appeal, and other similar expressions of public feelin^^, the patrons of the chair were shamed for once out of their usual practice, and 3Ir Leslie received the appointment. Dr Brown had before this period published two volumes of miscellaneous poems, which, tiiough they did not meet with brilliant success, are yet to be admired ns the effiisions of an ingenious and graceful mind. In 1803, immediately after re- ceiving his diploma, he began to practise taincd a dreadful shock in the death of the former relative, who had been his first instructress, and to whom ho bore an aflection bordering upon reverence. Her remains were first placed in a vault in Edinburgh ; and at the end of the winter-session moved to the family buryina-gi'ound in the old «;hurch-yard of Jvirkmabreck. Tiiis romantic and secluded spot Dr Erown had always viewed with gieat interest. A few years before, in visiting his father's grave, he had been altogether overcome, and when he saw the earth closing in upon all that remained of a mother that was so dear to him, " and the long grassy mantle cover all," his distress was su(;h as to afiect every person who saw him. In 1818, Dr Bro\vn published a poetical tale, en- titled " Agnes." But his reputation in this walk of literature was not on the increase. His mind by no means wanted poetical feeling and imagery ; but he never could prevenl the philosopher from intruding upon his wannest visions, .and accoi'dingly there is a decided tameness in all his verses. It may be said, that, if he had not been a great philosopher, he would have been a greater poet; and, on the other hand, if he had not attempted poeti-y, at least his living re- putation as a philosopher \vould have been somewhat enhanced. Towards tlie end of 1819, the ill health of Dr Brown began to assume an alanuing aspect, and early in the ensuing year he found himself so weak as to be obliged to appoint a substitute to deliver his lectures. This substitute was iVIr John Stewart, an- other of the devotees of science, and, like himself, destined soon to sink prema- turely beneath the weight of intellectual exertion. Of Brown it might truly be said, that an active spirit had worn out the slender and attenuated frame in which it v.as enshrined. At the reconnnendation of his physicians, he took a voyage to London, and established himself at Brompton, then a healthy village in the vicinity, but now nearly involved in the spreading masses of the great city. Here he gTadually grew weaker and weaker, until the 2d of April, when he gently breathed his last. " Dr Brown," says his reverend biographer, " was in height rather above the middle size, about five feet nine inches ; his chest broad and roimd ; his hair brown ; his features regular ; his forehead large and prominent ; his eyes dark grey, well formed, with very long eye-lashes, which gave them a very soft and pleasing expression ; his nose might be said to be a mixture of the Roman and ijrecian, and his mouth and cliin bore a striking re- semblance to those of the Buonaparte family. The expression of his cour.te- nance altogether was that of calm reflection, * * His temper was remarkably good ; so perfect Avas the command he had over it, that he was- scarcely ever heard to say an unkind word. ^Vhatever provocation he received, he always consulted the diijnity of his own character, and never gave Avay to anger. Yet he never allowed any one to treat him with disrespect ; and his pupils nnist re- member the effect of a single look in producing, instantaneously, the most per- fect silence in his class. * * At a very early period, Dr Brown formed tliose opinions in regard to government to which he adhered to the end of his life. H'^ii TtlO.MAS liiiUUN. Tliongh lie was not led to take .iny active pint in politics, lie felt the liveliest interest in tlio great questions of the day, and his zeal I'nr llie diil'iision of know- ledge and of iii.ei-al oi)iiiion, was not greater than his indignation at every at- tempt to impede it. The most perlcct toleration of all liberal opinions, and an unshackled liheuty of tiie press, were tlie two siibjecls in which he seemed to take the most interest, and whi<;h he seemed to consider as most essential to national happiness and prosjierity. In his judgment upon every politiral ques- tion, he was determined solely hy its bearings upon the welfare of the human race ; and he was very far from uniformly approving of the measures of the jiarty to which he was generally understood to belong. Indeed, he often said, that liberty, in Scotland at least, suflered more from the Whigs than the Tories — in allusion to the departure he conceived to be sometimes made from professed princijtles with a view to present advantage. * * He was intimately ac- quainted with the principles of almost all the fine arts, and in many of them showed that practice only was wanting to ensure perfection in his powers of exe- cution. His acquaintance with languages was great : French, Italian, and German, he read with tiie same ease as English. He read also Spanish and Portuguese, though not so fluently. # * * Among the more prominent features of Dr Brown's character, may be enumerated the greatest gentleness, and kindness, and delicacy of mind, united with the noblest independence of spirit ; a generous admiration of every thing atfectionate or exalted in character ; a manly contempt for every thing mean ; a detestation for every thing that even bordei'ed on tyranny and oppression ; a truly British love of liberty, and tlie most ardent desire for the diffusion of knowledge, and happiness, and virtue, among mankind. In private life he was possessed of almost every quality which renders society delightful, and was indeed remarkable for nothing more than for the love of home and the happiness he shed around hiin there. It was ever his strongest Avish to make every one who was with him happy; his exquisite deli- cacy of 2>erception gave him a quick fore-feeling of whatever might be hurtful to any one ; and his wit, his varied information, his classical taste, and, above all, his mild and gentlemanly manners, and his truly philosophic evenness of tem- per, dilt'used ai'ouud him the purest and most refined enjoyment. Of almost universal knowledge, acquired by the most extensive reading, and by wide inter- «;ourse with the world, there was no topic of conversation to which he seemed a stranger. * * * In the philosophic love of truth, and in the patient investigation of it, Dr Brown may be pronounced as at least equal, and in subtilityof intellect and pt>wei's of analysis, as superior to any metaphysician that ever existed. The predominating quality in his intellectual character was unquestionably his power of analysing, the most necessary of all qualities to a metaphysician. It is im j>ossible, indeed, to turn to any page in Jiis writings that does not contain some ieat of ingenuity. States of mind that had been looked upon for ages as reduced to the last degree of simplicity, and as belonging to those facts in our constitu- tion which the most sceptical could not doubt, and tlie most subtile could imt explain, he brought to the <;rucible, and evolved from their simpler elements. For the most complicated and puzzling questions that our mysterious and almost inscrutable nature presents, he lbtii..l a quick and easy solution. 'Ihe knot that thousands haihich cannot be fully compensated. His father marrying a second time, had an additional family of six sons and two daught rs. In his earliest years, instead of the robust frame and bold disposition which he possessed in manhood, Bruce Avas of weakly health and gentle temporament. At tlie age of eig'it years, a desire of giving his heir- apparent the best possible education, and perhaps also the pain of seeing one motherless child amidst the more fortunate ofl'spring of a second union, induced his father to send him to London, to be placed under the friendly care of his uncle, counsellor Hamilton. In that agreeable situation he spent the years between eight and twelve, wiien he was transferred to the public school at Har- row, then conducted by Dr Cox. Here he Avon the esteem of his instructoi-s, as well as of many otlier individuals, by the extraordinary aptitude Avith Avhich he acquired a knoA\ledge of classic literature, and the singularly sweet and amiable dispositions Avhich he always manifested. To this reputation, his Aveakly health, and the fear tliat he Avas destined, like his mother, to an early grave, seems to have given a hue of tenderness, Avhich is seldom manifested lor merely clever scholars. The gentleness of his character, the result solely of bad health, led him at this early period of his life to contemplate the profession of a clergyman ; a choice in AAhich he might, moreover, be further satisHed, from a recollection of his ancestor, Bobert Bruce of Kinnaird, who was the leading divine in Scot- land little more than a century before. So completely, hoAvever, do the minds of men take colour from their physical constitution, that on his health becoming confirmed Avith advancing manhood, this tame chrice Avas abandoned for some- tiiing of a bolder character; Avliich, in its turn, appears to have given Avay, in still further increased strength, for something bolder still. He left Harrow, Avith the character of a first-rate scholar, in Tilay 174(5, and, after spending another year at an academy, in the study of French, arithmetic, and geometry, returned, May 1747, to Kinnaird, Avhere lie spent some months in the sports of the field, for Avhich he suddenly contracted a deep and lasting attachment. It Avas noAV determined that he should prepare himself for tlie profession of an advocate : a road to distinction, Avhich, as it Avas almost liie only one left to Scotland by the Union, Avas then, and at a much later period, assumed bv an immense proportion 323 JAMES BRUCE. of the youiivn those enemies of the public. Dr Shaw, the only British predecessor of Bruce in this line of research, h.-.d been much laughed at, and even openly scouted, for having hinted at the existence of such a custom. His friends at Oxford thought it a subversion of the established order of things, that a man should eat a lion, when it had long passed as almost the peculiar province of tlie lion to eat the man. Bruce >vas exactly the man to go the more boldly forward when such a lion was in the way. He thus alludes, in his own travels, to the foolish scepticism with which Dr Shaw's statement had been received : " With all submission to the learned University, I will not dispute the lion's title to eating men ; but since it is not founded upon patent, no consideration will make me stifle the merit of the W'illid Sidi Boogannim, wlio have turned the <;hase upon the enemy. It is a historical fact, and I will not permit the public to be misled by a misrepresentation of it. On the contrary, I do aver, in the face of these fantastic prejudices, that I have ate the flesh of lions, that is, part of three lions, in the tents of the Willid Sidi Boogannim." This is certainly a notable enough specimen of the contra audientior ito. After having travei-sed the whole of these states, and taken drawings of cveiy antiquity which he es- teemed A\ orthy of notice, he moved further >vest to Tripoli, where he ^vas received with great kindness by Mr Fraser of Lovat, British consul at that place. From Tripoli he dispatched the greater part of his drawings to Smyrna, by which pre- caution they were saved from the destruction which must have otherwise been their fate. Crossing the (iidf of Sidra, which makes a considerable sweep into the northern coast of Africa, Bruce now reached Bengazio, the ancient Berenice built by I'tolemy Philadelphus. From this place he travelled to Btolemata, where, finding the plague raging, he was obliged to embark hastily in a (ireek vessel which he hired to carry him to (Vete. This was perhaps the most unlucky step he took during the whole of his can-er. The vessel was not properly ])r<>vided with ballast; the sails defied the management of the ignorant man who professed to steer it ; it had not therefore got far from shore when a storm drove it to lee- ward, and it struck upon a rock near the harbour of Bengazi. Bruce took to the boat, along with a great number of the other passengers ; but finding that it could not survive, and fearing lest he shoidd be overwhelmed by a multitude of drowning wret(;hes, he saw it necessary to commit himself at once to the sea, and endeavour to swim ashore. In this attempt, after sufi'ering nmch from the vlo- JAMES BRUCE. 331 louce of llie surf, he was at last successful. He had only, however, become ex- posed to greater dangers. A plundering party of Arabs came to lu.ikc prey of tlie wrecked vessel, and his Turkish clothing excited tlieir worst fv^elings. Mter mucli sjilering he got bade to Bengazi, but with the loss of all his baggage, in- cluding many valuable instrainents and drawings. Fortunately, the master of a French sloop, to whom he had rendered a kindness at Algiei-s, happened to be lying in that port. Through the gratefid service of this person, he was carried to Crete. An ague, however, liad lixed itself upon his constitution, in conse- quence of his exertions in the sea of Ftolemata : it attacked him violently in Crete, and he lay for some days dangerously ill. On recovering a little, he pro- ceeded to Ivhodes, and from thence to Asia Minor, where he inspected the ruins of Baalbec and Palmyra. By the time he got back to Sidon, he found that his let- ters to Europe announcing the loss of his instruments, were answered by the ti'ansmission of a new set, including a quadrant from Louis XV., who had been told by Count BuiTon of the mihappy atiair of Bengazi. In June 176S, he sailed from Sidon to Alexandria, resolved no longer to delay that perilous expedition ^^hich had taken possesswn of his fancy. " Previous to his first inti'oduction to the watei-3 of the Nile," says Captain Head, 'it may not be improper, for a moment, cahnly and dispassionately to consider how far he was qualified for tJie attempt which he was about to undertake. Being thirty-eight years of age, lie was at that period of life in which both the mind and body of man are capa- ble of their greatest possible exertions. During his travels and residence in Europe, Africa, and Asia, he had become practically acquainted with t!ie religion, manners, and prejudices of many countries different from his own ; and he had learned to speaJc the French, Italian, Spanish, Modern Greek, Moorish and Arabic lan- guages. P^uU of enterprise, enthusiastically devoted to the object he had in view, accustomed to hardship, inured to climate as- well as to fatigue, he was a man of undoubted courage, in stature six feet four, and with this imposing appearance, possessing great personal strength ; and lastly, in every proper sense of the word, he was a gentleman ; and no man about to travel can give to his counti-y a better pledge for veracity than Avhen, like Bruce, his mind is ever retrospectively viewing the noble conduct of his ancestors — thus showing that he considers he lias a stake in society, ivhich, by the meanness of falsehood or exaggeration, he would be unable to transmit unsullied to posterity." From Alexandi-ia he pro- ceeded to Cairo, Avhere he was received with distinction by tlie Bey, under the character of a dervish, or soothsayer, which his acquaintance with eastern man- ners enabled him to assume with great success. It happened, fortmiately for his design, that in the neighbourhood of Cairo resided a Greek patriarch, who had lived sometimi under his roof at Algiers, and taught him the Modern Greek lan- guage. This person gave him letters to many Greeks avIio held high situations in Abyssinia, besides a bull, or gejicral reconmiendation, claiming protection for him from the numerous persons of that nation residing in the country. Bruce had previously acquired considerable knowledge of the medical art, as part of that prepai-atory education with which he had fitted himself for liis great task. The Bey fortunately took ill : Bruce cured him. His highness, in gratitude, furnished him wth recommendatory lettei-s to a great number of ruling pei-son- ages throughout Egypt, and along both shores of the Red Sea. Bruce, thus well provided, commenced his voyage up the Nile, December 12, 17(iS, in a large canja or boat, which was to can-y him to Fm-shoot, the residence of Amner, the Siieikh of Upper Egypt. For two or three weeks he enjoyed the pleasure of coasting at ease and in safety along the wonder-studded banl« of this splendid river, only going on shore ocGisionally to give the more remarkable objects a narrower inspection. He was at Furshoot on the 7th of January, 17tij. Ad- 332 JAMES BRUCE. vancing hence to Slieikh Amner, the encampment of a tribe of Arabs, whose dominion extended almost to tlio coast of the Red Sea, lie was fortunate enough to acquire the frien.lsliip of the Sheikh, or liead of the race, by curing him of a dangerous disorder. This secured liim the means of prosecuting his journey in a' peaceable manner. Under the protection of this tribe, he soon reached Cossier, a fort on the Red Sea, having previously, however, sent all his journals and drawings, hitlierto completed, to the cnre of some friends at Cairo. Bruce sailed from Cosseir on the 5th of April, and for several months he employed himself in making geographical observations upon the coasts of this important sea. On the 19th of September, after having for the first time determined the latitude and longitude of many places, which have since been found wonderfully correct, he landed at Massuah, the port of Abyssinia. Here he encountered great danger and difficulty, from the savage character of the Naybe, or governor of Massuah, who, not regarding the letters carried by Bruce from the Bey of Cairo, had vcrj' nearly taken his life. By the kindness of Achmct, a nephew of the Naybe, whom Bruce rescued from a deadly sickness, he was enabled to surmount the obstacles presented against him in this place, and on the 15th November began to penetrate the country of Abyssinia. In crossing the hill of Tarenta, a moun- tainous rid^e, which slcirts the shore, the traveller encountered hardships under which any ordinary spirit would have sunk. Advancing by Dixan, Adowa, and Axum, he found himself greatly indebted for safety and accommodation to the letters wliich he carried for the Greeks, who formed the civilized chiss amongst that rude people. It was in the neiirhbourhood of Axum that he saw the unfortunate sight (the slicing of steaks from the rump of a live cow), whicli was the chief cause of his being afterwards generally discredited in his own country. On the 14tli of February, after a journey of ninety-five days from Massuah, he reached Gondar, the capital of Abyssinia, a town containing about ten thousand f imilies. The king and his chief minister Ras Michael, to both of whom Bruce had letters of introduction, were now absent with the army, putting down a rebellion which had been raised by Fasil, a turbulent governor of a province. But Bruce was favourably received by one Ayto Aylo, a Greek, and chamberlain of the palace. It happened that the favourite child of Ras Michael was at this time ill with the small pox at the country palace of Koscam. Ozoro Esther, the beautiful voung wife of Has Michael, and the mother of this child, watched over the sick- bed with intense anxiety. Bruce, by the good offices of Ayto Aylo, was intro- duced to the distracted mother as a skilful physician ; and after some preliminary civilities, he undertook to cure the child, in which task he very soon succeeded. Having thus at once made favour in a very high quarter, ho waited patiently for two or three weeks, when the king and Ras Michael, having gained a victory, returned to Gondar, and Bruce was then presented to them. Ras Michael, at the first interview, acknowledged the powerful nature of Bruce's recommendations, but explained to him, that owing to the present convulsed state of the country, it would be difiicult to afford him all the protection that might be wished. It appeared to Michael, that the best way of ensuring personal safety and respect for him throughout the country, would be to give him a high office in the king's household. Bruce consented, from the conviction that iu becoming Baalomaal, and commander of the Koecob horse, he was doing liis best towards facilitating his journey. While acting in the capacity of Baalomaal, which seems to have been somewhat like the British office of hord of the bed-cliamber, he secured the king's favour and admiration, by the common school-boy trick of shooting a small candle through a dense substance. He was now appointed to be governor of a large Mahometan province, which lay on tlie way he designed to take in returning home : this duty, however, he could perform by deputy. In May, the JAMES BRUCE. 333 army set out from Goiuiar to meet t!;e rebel Fasil, and Bruce took that share in the fatigues and perils of the cauipaign wliich his ortice rendered necessary. He was of great service in improving tiie discipline of liie army, and was looked upon as a finished warrior. After a good deal of mar<;hing and countermarch- ing, tlie i-oyal forces gained a complete victory over lasil, who was consequently obliged to make his submission. This rebel now lived on amicable terms witlj the king and his oflicers, and Bruce, recollecting the interesting site of his go- vernment, busied himself in performing mediral services to his principal officers. When the king came to ask Bn-ce what reward he would liave for his share in the campaign, the enthusi;istic traveller answered, that he only wished two favours, the property of the village of Geesh, with the spot in its neighbourhood where he understood the Nile to arise, and a royal mandate obliging Fasil to facilitate his journey to that place. The king, suiiling at the hunu'lity of his desires, granted tlie request, only regi'etting that Zagoube ( such was the name assumed by Bruce in his travels,) could not be induced to ask sometiiing ten times more precious. The attention of the sovereign and his minister were now distracted by the news of another insurrection in the \vestern parts of the kingdom; and it was necessary to move the army in that direction. Bruce made the excuse of his health (which was really bad) to avoid attendance in this campaign; and at length, with some diliiculty, he obtained the king's permission to set out for (ieesh, which lie was now resolved on, notwithstanding that the bi'eaking out of another rebellion omened ill for the continiicd submission of Fasil, and conse- quently for the safety of the traveller. Bruce set out upon this last great stage of his journey on the dSth of October, 1770, and he was inlvoduced to the pre- sence of Fasil at a })lace called Bamba. Fasil, partly through the representations of those officers to whom Bruce had recommended himself, was in reality favour- ably disposed to him ; but he at first thought proper to affect a contrary senti- ment, and represented the aesign as impracticable. In tlie course of the wrang- ling which took place between the two on this subject, Bruce was so much in- censed that his nose spontaneously gushed with blood, and his servant had to lead him from the tent. Fasil expressed sorrow at this incident, and immediately made amends by taking measures to facilitate Bruee's journey. He furnished him with a guide called Woldo, as also seven savage chieftains of the country for a guard, and furthermore added, what was of greater avail than all the rest, a horse of his own, richly caparisoneean eyes that have ever beheld it. It vvr.s pointed out to him by Woldo, his guide, as a hilloclc of green sod in the middle of a marshy spot a the bottom of the hill on which he was standing. To quote his own account of so remarUahle a jioint in his life — " Half undressed as I was, by the loss of my sash, and tlu-()\Ting oil" my shoes, [a necessary preliminary, to satisfy the Pagan feelings of the people], I ran down the hill, towards the hillock of green sod, which was about two hundred yards distant; the whole side of the hill was thick yrown with Howers, the large bulbous roots of which appearing above the surface of the gi-ound, and their skins coming ofi' on my treading upon them, occasioned me two very severe falls before I readied the brink of the marsh. I after this came to the altar of gi-een turf, which was apparently the work of art, and I stood in rapture above the .principal fountain, which risos in the middle of it It is easier to guess than to describe the situation of my mind at that moment — standing in that spot which had baffled the genius, industry, and enquii-y of both ancients and moderns for the course of near three thousand years. Kings Jiad attempted this discovery at the head of armies, and each expedition was distin- guished from the last only by the difference of numbers which had perished, and agreed alone in the disappointment which had unilbrmly and without exception followed them all. Fame, riches, and honour had been held out for a series of ages to every individual of those myriads these princes commanded, without hav ing produced one man capable of gratifying the curiosity of his sovereign, or wiping oft" this sUun upon the enterprise and abilities of mankind, rr adding this ilesideratum for the encoiu-agement of geography. Though a mere private Bri- ton, 1 triiniiplied here, in my own mind, over kings and their armies ! and every comparison was leading nearer and nearer to presumption, when the place itself where I stood, the object of my vain glory, suggested what depressed my short- lived triumpli. I was but a few minutes arrived at the sources of the Nile, through numberless dangers and suflerings, the least of which would have over- whelmed me, but for the continual goodness and protection of Providence : I was, however, but then half through my journey, and all those dangers through which I had aheady passed awaited me on my return ; — I found a despondency gaining ground f;ist, and blasting the crown of laurels which 1 had too rashly woven for myself" In this paragTaph — one of the most deeply touching ever written — we find the Herculean mind of Hruce giving way, under the influence of success, to sensations which had scarcely ever affected him during the whole course of his journey, while as yet the desire of going onvvard, and the neces- sity of providing the means of doing so with safety, possessed and amused his mind. Nothing could be more characteristic of a gi-eat mind — by danger and hardship only l)ra<;ed to more nervous exertiou — by opposition only rendered the more eagiu- and firm — by the menaces of inferior minds only i-oused to con- temptuous defiance ; and only to be softened by kindness, only to be subdued by success. Many otiier emotions, however, must have entered the breast of the traveller in that remarkable hour of liis life. All the inspiring causes of his journey mi.'st have rushed full upon him — the desire of overcoming a difficulty which had «lefied the civilized part of the earth since ever it was civilized the hope of doing that which Alexander, and many of the greatest men of antiquity had wished, but failed to do — the curiosity of rendering that a matter of real and human exertion which an ancient poet could only s'ipposc possible to a supernatural being on an extraordinary orciision : JAMES BRUCE. 335 Niliis ill fxlremum tugit perierrUus urbem, Occiiluitqiie caput, tjuod ad hue latet. Ovid in Phcethontem. and, finally, the more rational j^lory of perfonning such a service to science, as must procure for him the ai)[)robation of his sovereign and fellow-counti7men, and even obtain a peculiar ilistinction for his country among tlie other civilized nations. Besides all these emotions, nhich had hitherto carried his enthusiastic mind ihrougli unheard of ditiiculties, lie must have recalled at this moment softer sensations. The idea that he Mas now at the extreme point of distance from home, would awaken the vision of that home whicli he had not seen for so many years ; and from this spot, in a metaphysical miracje, he would see the lar blue hills of his native land, the estuary, the river, the fields, and tlie mansion of his childhood — the hearts that beat for him there, indmling one whose pulsations were worth all the rest ; and the old familiar faces, whose kindly expression had been too long exchanged for the unkindred countenances of barbarians and strangers. There might also mingle with the varied tide of his sensations a re- luctantly acknowledged sense of the futility of all his exertions, and perils, and sufl'erings, since they had only obtained for him the sight of a Pagan altar from which proceeded one of the feedei-s, not certainly known to be the principal one, of the mighty Kile ; to Avhat good could this sight conduce, since, after all, it was only a sight ? the object liaving been all along proved to exist by the mere laws of nature. The majestic intellect of Bruce xnight turn from such a paltry object, and confess, with secret bitterness, that the discovery of the source of the Nile was only valuable so long as it seemed impossible, but that, now being achieved, it sunk into insignificance, like the glittering air-ball seized by the hand of a child. The traveller relates that his despondency continued for some time ; and that, as he could not reason it away, he resolved to direct it till he might be able, on more solid reflection, to overcome its progress. Calling to Strates, a faithful Greek, who had accompanied him throughout all his Abyssinian travels, he said, ' Strates, faithful squire ! come and triumph with your Don Quixote at that island of Barataria, to which we have most wisely and fortunately brought ourselves ! Come and triumph with me over all the kings of the earth, all their armies, all their philosophers, and all their lieroesi' 'Sir,' says Strates, '1 do not under- stand a woj'd of what you say, and as little of what you mean : you very well know I am no scholar.' 'Come,' said I, 'take a draught of this excellent water, and drink with me a health to his Majesty George III., and a long line of princes.' I had in my hand a large cup, made of a cocoa-nut shell, which I procured in Arabia, and which was brimful." [This cup was brought liome by Bruce, and his representatives at Kinnaird still use it evei-y day when they en- tertain company at dinner.] " He drank to the king speedily and cheerfully, with tlie addition of ' confusion to his enemies,' and tossed up his cap with a loud huzza. 'Now, friend,' said I, 'here is to a more humble, but still a sacred name — here is to iMaria !' " This was a Scottish lady, we believe, a Miss IMurray of Polmaise, to whom Bruce had fonued an attachment before leaving his native (■ountry. These ceremonies being completed, he entered the village of Gcesh, and assumed for four days the sovereignty to whi<;h Fasil had given him a title. During this brief space, he made forty observations as to the exact geographical site of the fountain, and found it to be in north latitude 10' 59' 25", and 36" 55' 30" east longitude, while its position was supp((sed from the barometer to be two miles above the level of the sea. Bruce left Geesh upon his return on tlic 1 0th of November, and he arrived at Gondar, without any remarkable adven- ture, on the 17th. Here he fomid that Fasil had set a new insurrection on foot, and had been again unsuccessful. For some time gi'eat numbers of liis 33G JAMES BRUCE, adherents, or rallier the adherents of a mock king whom he had set up, were daily sacrificed. Bruce was at first somewhat uneasy in this disagree- able scene, and tiie maxim of the Abyssinians, never to permit a stranger to quit the country, came full upon liis mind. Early, however, in January, 1771, he obtained the king's permission, on the [)lea of his health, to return home, though not ^^itil0Mt a promise that he would come back, when his health was re- est;iblishele, with horses, muskets, and bayonets. Ere he could take advantage of this permission, fresh civil wars broke out, birge provinces became disturbed, and Eruce found that, as he had had to take part in the national military operations in order to pave the way for reaching the head of the Nile, so was it now necessary that he should do his best for the suppression of the disturbances, that he might clear liis way to- wards home. During the whole of the year 1771, he was engaged with the army, and he distinguished himself so highly as a warrior, that the king pre- sented him with a massive gold chain, consisting of one hundred and eighty-four links, each of them weighing 3 and 1 — 12th dwts. It was not till the 26th of Decendjer, thirteen months after his retin-n from the source of the Nile, that he set out on his way towards Europe ; nor even then was the country reduced to a peaceable condition. He was accompanied by three Greeks, an old Turkish Janissary, a captain, and some common nmleteers ; the Italian artist Balugani having died at Gondar. On account of the dangers which he had experienced at Massuah from the barbarous Naybe, he had resolved to return through the great deserts of Nubia into Egypt, a tract by which he coidd tra(;e the Nile in the greater part of its course. On the 23d of March, after a series of dreadful hardships, he reached Teawa, the capital of Abbara, and was introduced to the Sheikh, who, it seemed, was unwell, though not so much so as to h.ave lost any part of his ferocious disposition. Bruce here met with an adventure, which, as it displays his matchless presence of mind in a very brilliant light, may be here related. He had undertaken to administer medicine to the Sheikli, who was in the alcove of a spacious room, sitting on a sofa surrounded by curtains. On the entrance of Bruce, he took two \vhilfs of his pipe, antl when the slave had left the room said, " Are you prepared ? Have you brought the money along with you ?'' Bruce i-eplied, "My servants are at the other door, and have the vomit you ivanted." " Curse you and the vomit too,'' cried the Sheikh in great passion, " 1 want money and not poison. Where are your piastres?" " 1 am a bad person," replied Bruce, " to fmiiish you Avith either ; I have neither money nor poison ; but I advise you to drink a little warm water to clear your stomach, cool your liead, and then lie down and compose yourself; 1 will see you to-morrow morning.'' Bruce was retiring, when the Sheikh exclaimed, '' Hakim, [physician] infidel, or devil, or \\hatever is your name, hearken to what I say. Consider where you are ; this is the room where Mek Baady, a king, was slain by the hand of my father : look at his blood, where it has stained the floor, and can never be washed out. 1 am informed you have twenty thousand piastres in gold with you; either give me two thousand before you go out of this chandler, or you shall die ; I shall j»ut you to death with my o^vn hand.'' Upon this he took up his sword, which ^was lying at the head of his sofa, and drawing it with a bravado, threw the scabbard into the middle of the room, and, tucking the sleeve of his shirt above the elbow, like a butcher, he said, " 1 wait your answer." Bruce stept one pace backwards, and laid his hand upon a little blunderbuss, without taking it ofl' the belt. In a firm tone of voii-e, he rcplievortii- less and mercenai-y existence. This is a dreadful imputation upon the age of George III., but we fear that the cold and narrow poverty of its literature, and the ahnost non-existence of its science, would make any less indignant account of its treatment of Bruce unjust. Even the country gentlemen in Scotland, who, while he was carving out a glorious name for himself and. providing additional honour for his country, by the most extraordinary and magnanimous exertions, were sunk in the low sottishness of the period, or at most performed respect- ably the humble duties of surveying the roads and convicting the poachers of their own little districts, could sneer at the " //es" of Bi-uce. His mind shrunk from the meanness of his fellows; and he retired, indignant and disappointed, to Kinnaird, where, for some time, he busied himself in rebuilding his house, and aiTanging the concerns of his estate, which had become confused during his long absence. In 3Iarch I77G, he provided additional means of happiness and repose, by marrying, for his second wife, Mary Dundsis, daughter of Thomas Dundas, Esq. of Eingask, and of Lady Janet Maitland, daughter of the Earl of Lauderdale. This amiable and accomplished person was much younger than Bruce, and it is rather a singular coincidence, remarks Captain Head, that she was born in the same year in which his first Avife had died. For nine years Bruce enjoyed too much domestic happiness to admit of his making a rapid pro- gress in the preparation of his journals for the press. But, after the death of his wife in 17 85, he applied to this task with more eagerness, as a means of di- verting his melancholy. We have heard that in the composition of his book, he employed the assistance of a professional litterateur, who first ti'anscribed his 'ournals into a continuous narrative, and then wrote them over again, involving all the alterations, improvements, and additional remarks, which the traveller was pleased to suggest. The work appeared \n 1790, seventeen years after his retiu'n to Europe. It consisted of five large quarto volumes, besides a volume of drawings, and was entitled, " Travels to Discover the Sources of the Nile, in the years 17(58, 17G9, 1770, I77I, 1772, and 177.3, by James Bruce, of Kinnaird, Esq., F. R. S.'' It was dedicated to the king ; and it is but justice to the memory of that sovereign to state, that, while society in general raised against it the cry of envy, jealousy, and ignorant incredulity, his 31ajesty stood boldly up in its favour, and contended that it was a very great work. The King used to say, that, had it not been for the indec(n'ous nature of certain passages, he could have wished to find it in the hands of all his subjects, and he would him- self have placed a copy of it in every one of his palaces. The taste of this mon- MICHAEL BRUCE. 339 arch did not perhaps lead him to expend great sums in patronizincr the arts of the lighter branches of literature, but he certainly was qualified to appreciate, and also disposed to encourage, any exertion on the part of his subjoels which had a direct utility, and was consistent with honour and virtue. The magnum opus of Bruce was bought up by the public at its very first appearance : it required the whole of the impression to satisfy the first burst of public curiosity. It was, in the same year, translated into German and French. Bruce, in his latter years, lost much of his capabiliiies of enjoying life by his prodigious corpulence. We have been told that at this period of his life he was enlarged to such a degree as almost to appear monstrous. His appearance was rendered the more striking, when, as was his frequent custom, he assumed an Eastern haVut and turban. His death was at lengtli caused indirectly by his cor- pulence. On the evening of the 27th of April, 1794, after he had entertained a large party at dinner, he was hurrying to escort an old lady down stairs to her carriage, when his foot — that foot which had carried him through so many dangers, slipped upon the steps : he tumbled down the stair, pitched upon his head, and was taken up speechless, with several of his fingers broken. Notwithstanding every effort to restore the machinery of existence, he expired that night. He was buried in the churchyard of his native parish of Larbert, where a monument indicates his last resting-place. To quote the character which has been written for him by Captain Head, " Bruce belonged to that useful class of men who are ever ready 'to set their life upon a cast, and stand the hazard of the die.' He was merely a traveller — a knight-errant in search of new regions of the world ; yet the steady courage with which he encountered danger — his patience and fortitude in adversity — his good sense in prosperity — the tact and judgment with which he steered liis lonely course tlirough some oi' tlie most barren and barbarous countries in the world, bending- even the ignorance, passions, and pre- judices of the people he visited to his own advantage — the graphic truth witli which he described the strange s(;enes which he had witnessed, and the indexible fortitude with which he maintained his assertions against the barbarous incredulity of his age, place him at the top of his own class, while he at least stands second to no man.->-> i3ruce understood French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese — tlie two former he could in-ite and speak with facility. Besides Greek and Latin, which he read well, but not critically, he knew the Hebrew, Chaldee, and Sy- i-iac ; and in the latter part of his life, (Compared several portions of the Scrip- ture in those related dialects. He read and spoke with ease, Arabic, Ethiopic, and Amhai-ic, which had proved of the greatest service to him in his travels. It is said that the faults of his character were — inordinate family pride, and a want of that power to accommodate one's self to the weaknesses of others, which is so important a qualification in a man of the world. But amidst the splendours of such a history, and such an intellect, a few trivial weaknesses — even allowing those to be so — are as motes in the meridian sun. A second edition of Bruce's Travels was published in 1805, by Dr Alexander Murray, from a copy which the traveller himself had prepared to put to press. The first volume of this elegant edition contains a biographical account of the author, by Ur Murray, who was perhaps the only man of his age whom leai-ning had fitted for so peculiar a task as that of revising Bruce's Travels. BRUCE, Michael, with whose name is associated every regret that can be inspired by the early extinction of genius of a high order, still farther elevated by purity of life, was born at Kinnesswood, in the parish of I'ortmoak, Kinross- shire, on the 27th of March, 1746. His father, Alexander Bruce, a weaver, and his mother, whose name was also Bruce, were honest and pious Burghers: they had eight children, Michael being the fifth. Manifesting from his earliest 340 MICHAEL BllUCE. years much delicacy of frame and quickness of parts, if was resolved to train him for the church ; and after ac(|uiring the elements of education at the scliool of his native parish and of Kinross, lie was sent to the college of Edinburgli in 17()2. Here lie remained four years, devoting himself during the three first to those branches of learning pursued by what are called students of pliilosophy, and in the last applying also to the study of divinity. Hefore quitting the country, he had given proofs of his predilection for poetry, which was encour.aged by his friendship \vith Mr Arnot, a farmer on the banks of Lochleven, who, to the piety and good sense common among those of his pro- fession, added classical scholarship and an acquaintance with elegant literature. He directed Bruce to tiie perusal of Spenser, Shakspeare, and .Aiillon, supplied him witii the books, and became a judicious adviser in regard to his youthful essays in the poetic art. IMr D.avid Pearson, a man who read much with advan- tage, had also the taste to relish what Bruce had the talents to produce, and en- joyed his intimacy. After removing to Edinburgh, he lived in habits of close intercourse with 3Ir George Henderson and Mr William Dryburgh, who opened to him their stores of books and infonnation, as they did their atTections, and with I-ogan, whose congenial turn of mind made him the friend of Bruce in his life time, and his warm eulogist and editor of his works when he was no more. No one deserved better the attachment of those with whom he associated. " No less amiable as a man," says Logan, "than valuable as a ^mter ; endued with good nature and good sense; humane, friendly, benevolent; lie loved his friends, and was beloved by them with a degree of ardour that is only expe- rienced in the era of youth and innocence." The prominent place he has given in his poems to those from whose society he had derived delight, shows how sin- cere was tiie regard he cherished for them. As if that none of the ties by which life is endeared should be wanting to him, Bruce had fixed his affections on a young wouian, modest and beautiful, with whose parents he resided while teach- ing a school at Gairny Bridge. He has celebrated her under the name of Eu- melia, in iiis pastoral of Alexis, and she was also the heroine of the only two songs he is known to have v.Titten. It appears that the parents of the poet entertained peculiarly rigid notions in regard to religion, and would have been seriously displeased if they had known that any part of their son's attention was occupied by subjects apart from his theological studies. Bruce anxiously avoided giving these prejudices any cause of offence, and, when about to return home from college in 1705, took the precaution of transmitting to his friend .\i-not those volumes of which he knew his father Avould disapprove. " I ask your pardon," says his letter on this occasion, " for the trouble 1 have put you to by these books I have sent. The fear of a discovery made me clioose this method. I have sent Shakspeare 's works, 8 vols. Pope's works, 4 vols, and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds.'' Bruce acknowledges that he felt his poverty deeply when he saw books which he ardently desired to possess exposed to sale, and had not money to lay out in liie pun-hase. The same regret has been experienced by many a poor scho- lar; but few peihaps terminate their complaints in the same train of pious rellec- tion. " How well," he says, " should my library be furnished, * nisi obstat res angusta domi !> ' !My lot forbids ; nor circumscribes alone My growing virtues, but my crimes confines.* Whether any virtues should have accompanied me in a more elevated station is uncertain ; but that a number of vices of which my sphere is incapable would have been its .attendants is unquestionable. The Supreme Wisdom has seen this meet ; and Supreme Wisdom cannot eiT.'' MICHAEL BRUCE. 341 Jiveii when proseciiiing his favourite studies, Bruce is said to have been liable to that depression uhich is Ireqiiently the attendant of genius indeed, but in his case was also the precursor of a fatal disease. In December 17(i 4, he wrote to his friend Arnot, — " 1 am in health, excepting a kind of settled melancholy, ior which I cannot account, that lias seized on my spirits." Sucli seems to have been the first imperfect announcement of his consciousness that all was not well with him. It would be a mournful task, if it were possible, to trace the gradations by which his apprehensions strengthened and grew into that certainty which only two years after this produced the Elegy, in which so pathetically, yet so calmly, he anticipates his own death. In these years are understood to have been written the greater part of his poems which has been given to the public. He spent the winters at college, and the summer in earning a small pittance by teaching a school, first at Gairny l?ridge and afterwards at Fon-est Mill near Alloa. In this latter place he had hoped to be happy, but was not ; having, he confesses, been too sanguine in his expectations. He wrote here Lochleven, t'.ie longest of his poems, which closes witli these affecting lines : — " Thus sung the youth, amid unfertile wilds And nameless deserts, uupoetic ground ! Far from his friends he stray'd, recording thus The dear remembrance of his native fields, To clieer the tedious night, while slow disease Prey'd on his pining viUds, and the blasts Of dark December shook his humble cot." A letter to Mr Perrson, A\ritten in the same month in which he finished this poem, affords a still closer and more touching view of the struggle which he now maintained against growing disease, the want of comforts, and of friendly consolation. " I lead a melancholy kind of life,'' he says, " in this pluie. I am not fond of company ; but it is not good that a man be still alone : and here 1 can have no company but what is worse than solitude. If I had not a lively imagination, I believe I should fall into a state of stupidity and delirium. I have some evening scholai-s ; the attending on whom, though lew, so fatigues me that the rest of the night I am quite dull and low-spirited. \et I have some lucid intervals, in the time of which I can study pretty well." " In the autumn of I76()," says Dr Anderson, " his constitution — which Avas ill calculated to encounter the austerities of his native climate, the exertions of daily labour, and the rigid frugality of humble life — began visibly to decline. Towards the end of the year, his ill health, aggravated by the indigence of his situation, and the want of those comforts and conveniences which might have fostered a delicate frame to maturity and length of days, terminated in a deep consmnplion. During the winter he quitted his employment at Forrest 3Iill, and with it all hopes of life, and returned to his native village to receive those attentions and consolations which his situation required, from the anxiety of parental afiection and the sympathy of friendship. Convinced of the hopeless nature of his disease, and feeling himself every day declining, he contemplated the appi'oaches of death with calmness and resignation, and continued at inter- nals to compose verses and to correspond witii his friends." His last letter to Mr Pearson contains an allegorical description of hiunan life, which discloses something of his state of mind under these impressive circum- stances. It is so beautiful as a composition, and at the same time so touchingly connected with the author's own situation, as to mingle in the reader pity and admiration to a degi-ee which we are not aware that there is any thing else in the whole I'ange of literature, excepting his own elegy to Spring, fitted to inspire, " A few mornings ago," he says, " as I was taking my walk on an eminence 342 MICHAEL BRUCE, \vliii;h commands a view of the Forth, with the vessels sailing along, 1 sat down, and taking out iny Latin Bihle, opened by accident at a place in the book of Job, ix. 25, — ' Now my days are passed away as the swift ships.' Shiilting the book, I fell a musing on this artecting comparison. AVhether the following hap- pened to nie in a dream or waking reverie, I cainiot tell ; — but I fancied myself on the bank of a river or sea, the opposite side of which was hid from view, being involved in clouds of mist. On tlie shore stood a multitude whii;h no man could number, waiting for passage. I saw a great many ships taking in passengei's, and several persons going about in the garb of pilots ortering their service. Be- ing ignorant, and curious to know what all these things meant, 1 applied to a grave old man who stood by, giving instructions to the departing passengers. Mis name I remember was the Genius of Human Life. ' 3Iy son,' said he, 'you stand on the banks of the stream of Tim > ; all these people are bound for Eter- nity— that undiscovered country from whence no ti'aveller ever returns. The country is very large, and divided into two parts : the one is called the Land of 'xlory, the other the Kingdom of Darkness. The names of these in the garb of pilots are lleligion. Virtue, Pleasure. They who are so wise as to choose Reli- gion for their guide have a safe, though frequently a rough passage ; they are at last landed in the happy climes where sighing and sorrow for ever tiy away. They have like\vise-a secondary director, Virtue. But there is a spurious Virtue who pretends to govern by himself: but the wretches who trust to him, as well as th(tse who have Pleasure for their pilot are either shipwrecked or cast away on the Kingdom of Darkness. — But the vessel in which you must embark approaches — you must be gone. Remember what depends upon yom* conduct.' No sooner had he left me than I found myself surrounded by those pilots I men- tioned before. Innuediately I forgot all that the old man said to me, and, seduced by the fiiir promises of Pleasure, chose hiai for my director. We weighed anchor with a fair gale, the sky serene, the sea calm : innumerable little isles lifted their green heads around us, covered with trees in full blossom ; dissolved in stupid mirth, we were carried on, regardless of the past, of the future uinnindfuL On the sudden the sky was darkened, the winds roared, the seas raged, red rose the sand from the bottom of the troubled deep; the angel of the Maters lifted up his voice. At that instant a strong ship passed by ; I saw Reli- gion at the helm : ' Gome out from among them !' he cried. I and a few others threw ourselves into his ship. The wretches we left were now tossed on the swelling deep; the watei\s on every side poured through the riven vessel; they cursed the Lord : when lo! a fiend rose from tlie deep, and, in a voice like dis- tant thunder, thus spoke : ' I am Abaddon, the first-born of Death ; ye are my prey : open, thou abyss, to receive them !' As he thus spoke they sunk, and the «aves closed over tlieir heads. The storm was turned into a calm, and we heard a voice saying, * Fear not — I am with you : when you pass through the waters, they shall not overllow you.' Our hearts were filled with joy. 1 was engaged ill discourse with one of my new companions, when oiso from (he top of the mast cried out, ' Courage, my friends! 1 see the fair haven, — the land that is yet afar oft!' Looking up 1 found it was a certain friend Avho had mounted up for the benefit of contemplating the country before him; upon seeing you, I was so artected, I started and waked. — Farewell, my friend, farewell!" Bruce lingered through the winter, and in spring wTote that Elegy, " the latter part of which,'' says Logan, " is wrought up into the most passionate strains of the true pathetic, and is not perhaps inferior to any poetry in any language.'' How tridy this is said there are few that do not know ; but they who have read it often will not be fatigued by reading again. MICHAEL BRUCE. 343 •♦ Now Spring returns ; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better j ears have know ii ; Dim in my breast life's flying tiiper burns, And all the jo)S of life ^vitli hcjilth are flown. Starting and shivering in tli' inconstiint wind, Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was. Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined, And count the silent moments as they pass : The winged moments, whose unstji\ ing speed No art can stop or in their course arrest Whose flight shall shortly count me with tlie dead, And lay me down in peace with them that rest. Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate; And morning dreams, as poets tell, are true : Led by pale ghosts, I enter death's dark gate And bid the realms of light and life adieu. I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe; I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, Which mortals visit, and return no more. Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful plains Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound, Where melancholy with still silence reigns. And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. There let me wander at the close of eve. When sleep sits dewy on the labourer's eyes, The world and its busy follies leave. And talk with wisdom where my Daphnis lies. There let me sleep forgotten in the clay. When death shall shut these weary aching eyes, Rest in the hope of an eternal day. Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise." These were the last verses finished by the author. His strength was wasted gradually away, and he died on the Gth of July, 17(37, in the ^Ist year oi" his age. What he might have accomplished had longer years been assigned to him, it were needless to conjecture ; but of all the sons of genius cut off by an e.irly death, there is none whose fate excites so tender a regi-et. His claims t<; admi- ration are great without any counteracting circumstance. " Nothing," says Lord Craig, after a brief allusion to the leading facts of Bruce's life, — "Nothing, metliinks, has more the power of awakening benevolence than the consideration of genius thus depressed by situation, suffered to pine in obscurity, and some- times, as in the case of this tmfortunate young man, to perish, it may be, for want of those comforts and conveniences which might have fostered a delicacy of frame or of mind ill calculated to bear the hardships which poverty lays on both. For my own part, I never pass the place (a little hamlet skirted with old ash-trees, about two miles on this side of Kinross) where .Alichael Bruce resided — I never look on his dwelling (a small thatched house distinguished from tlie cottaoes of the other inhabitants only by a sashed window at the end, instead of a lattice, fringed with a honeysuc''er, than an active partisan ; the success of either party involving in an almost indifferent degree the high cLaims, and, it might be, the existing fortunes of his house. Taking these considerations into account, there is little difficulty in reconcil- ing to itself the line of conduct which Bruce had hitherto pursued. By joining heartily ^vitli neither party, he prudently avoided committing the fortunes of his family to the hazard of utter destruction, and his right and influence could give, upon any emergency, a necessary and required preponderance to either side, lie must have foreseen, too, with secret satisfaction, the consequences which would result to his own advantage from a contest in which the strength and resources of his rivals were mutually wasted, whilst his own energies remained entire, and ready on any favourable opportunity to be called decisively into action. That these were not exerted sooner, the existence of his father down to this period, and his submission to the English government, may suggest a sufficient reason ; and his own accession to the regency, in the name of the deposed Baliol, was a circumstance which could not but affect unfavoui-ably, during its continuance, the assertion of his pretensions. 3Ieantime, while Bruce outwardly maintained the semblance of loyalty to Edward, he was not idle in secretly advancing the objects of his own ambition ; and when actually engaged in assisting Edward in the settlement of the Scottish government, he entered into a secret bond of association with Lamberton bishop of St Andrews, whereby the parties became bound to aid each other against all persons ivhatever, and not to undertake any business of moment unless by mutual .'ir which Lamberton possessed, as head of the Scottish church, tlie effective aid which he could furnish by call- ing out the military retainers upon the church lands, was far from inconsider- able. Though we are not informed of any other similar contract to the above having been entered into between Bruce and liis j)artizans, there can be little doubt that this was not the only one, and that he neglected no safe expedient to promote and facilitate the enterprize which he contemplated. Notwithstand- ing, however, all the prudent caution and foresight displayed in these prepara- tory measures, the better genius of Bruce would seem utterly to have deserted him at the very critical moment of his fortune when its guidance was most required. Before entering upon the important event to which we have alluded, it will be necessai-y to state briefly the relative position of the two great parties in the ROBERT BRUCE. 3-il) kingdom as opposed to each other, John Baliol, supposing his title to have been well founded, had repeatedly renounced all pretensions to the crown of Scotland ; and had tV.r several yeais remained a voluntai-y exile in France, without taking any steps towards the recovery of those rights, of which, it might have been urged, the violence of the king of England had deprived him. He was to be considered, therefore, as having not only formally, but virtually, for- feited all claim to the kingdom. His son, Edward, was at that time a minor and a captive. John Comyn, commonly called the lied Comyn, was the son of Marjory, the sister of Baliol, and, setting Baliol aside, was the heir of the pre- tensions of their common ancestor. As regent of Scotland and leader of her armies, Comyn had maintained for many years the unequal contest with Edward ; and he had been the last to lay down his arms and accept conditions of peace from that prince. Though the temis of his submission had been rigorous, he was yet left in possession of large estates, a numerous vassalage, and, what in that \varlike age was of consequence, an approved character for courage and conduct in the field. Plausible as were the grounds upon which Gomyn might have founded his claim to the crown, and powerfully as these might have been supported against the usirped sovereignty of England, there was little likelihood that in a compe- tition with Bruce they could ever finally have prevailed. That family, accord- ing to the ancient usage of the kingdom, ought to have been preferred originally to that of Baliol ; and this fact, generally known and acknowledged, as it could not fail to be, would, had they chosen to take advantage of it, have rendered their cause, at any time, a popular one. The award of Edward from the conse- quences which followed upon it, had become odious to the nation ; and the pusillanimity and misfortunes of the abdicated and despised king, would leave, however undeservedly, their stigma upon his race. It was a curious enough illustration of the deep rooted existence of such a feeling, that, nearly a century afterwards, a king of Scotland who happened to possess the same unfortunate name of John, saw fit upon his coronation to change it for another, less ominous of evil in the recollections of his subjects. What might have been the fate of the contest, had it taken place, between two such rivals, it is now needless to inquire. We have seen that Bruce, at the crisis at which we have arrived, was possessed of those advantages unimpaired, of which the other, in the hite struggle, had been, in a great measure, deprived; and, there is reason to believe, that Comyn, whose conduct had been consistent and honourable, felt himself injured and indignant at a preference which he might suppose his rival had unworthily earned. Thus under impressions of wTong and filled with jealous apprehensions, for which there was much apparent and real cause, the Red Comj-n might be presumed willing, upon any inviting occasion, to treat Bruce as an enemy whom, by every means in his power, it was his interest to circumvent or destroy. The league into which Bruce had entered with Lamberton, and perhaps other transactions of a similar nature, were not so secretly managed, but that suspi- cions were awakened ; and this is said to have led to an important conference between these rivals on the subject of their mutual pretensions. At this meeting, Bruce, after describing in strong terms the miserable effects of the enmity which had so long subsisted between their different families, by which they themselves were not only deprived of station, but their country of freedom, proposed, as the best means, both of averting future calamity and for restoring their own privi- leges and the people's rinfhts, that they should henceforward enter into a good understanding and bond of amity with eacli other. " Support my title to the crown," he is represented to have said, "and I will give you my lands ; or, give me your lands and I will support your claim."' Comyn agreed to wave his 350 ROBERT BRUCE. right, iiiid accept the hnuls ; .iiid the conditions having been drawn up in fonii of indenture, were sealed by both parties, and confunicd by their mutual oaths of fidelity and secrei:y. Bruce shortly afterwards repaired to the English court, where he still enjoyed the confidence and favour of the king ; and whilst there, Ccniyn, from what motive is unknown, but probably from the design of ruining a rival whom he secretly feared and detested, revealed his knowledge of the conspiracy to Edward. The king, upon receiving this information, thought fit to dissemble his belief in its veracity, with a view, it is conjectured, of drawing -within his power the bro- thers of Bruce, previously to striking the important blow which he meditated. Witli a shrewdness and decision, however, peculiar to his characteF, he frankly questioned Bruce upon the truth of Comyn's accusation, adducing, at the same time tiie letters and docmnents which he had received as evidences of the fact. The liarl, much as he might feel staggered at the sudden disclosure of Comyn's treachery, or alarmed at the imminent peril of his situation, had recollection enough remaining to penetrate the immediate object of the king in this insidious scrutiny, and presence of mind to baffle the sagacity by which it was sug- gested. Though taken so completely by surprise, he betrayed no outward signs of guilt or confusion ; and succeeded by his mild and judicious answers in re- establishing to all appearance the confidence of the crafty monarch ; who had, indeed, his reasons for this seeming reliance, but who all along was of too sus- pi(;ious a n.ature to be so easily convinced, lie had in fact determined upon the Earl's ruin ; and, having one evening drank freely, was indiscreet enough to disclose his intentions in presence of some of the nobles of his court. The Earl of Gloucester, a kinsman of Bruce, chanced either to be present, or to have early notice of his friend's danger, and, anxious to save him, yet not daring, in so serious a matter, too rashly to compromise his own safety, sent to him a pair of gilded spurs and a few pieces of money, as if he had borrowed them from him the day before. Danger is said to be an acute interpreter ; and Bruce divined coiTectly that the counsel thus symbolically communicated warned him to instant flight. Taking his measures, therefore, with much privacy, and accomj^anied by his secretary and one groom, he set out for Scotland. On appi-oaching the ■western marches the small party encountered a messenger on foot, whose deport- ment struck them as suspicious. He was searched ; and proved to be an emis- sary sent by Comyn with letters to the King of J*higland. The man was killed upon the spot; and Bruce, now possessed of substantial proofs of the perfidy of his rival, pressed forward to his castle of Lo(;lmial)en, which he is reported to have reached on the filiii day after his precipitate flight from London. Tiiese events occurred in the month of February, 130(j ; at which time, accord- ing to a regulation of the new government, certain iMiglish judges wei-e holding their courts at Dumfries, Thither Bruce immediately repaired, and finding Comyn in the town, as he had expected, requested a private interview with him, which was accorded ; but, either from some inward misgiving on the one si- insufficiently attended to. Pembroke havinsr, by his scouts, intelligence of this particular, and of the negligent posture of the Scottish troops, drew out his forces from Perth, towards the close of day : and gaining the un- guarded encampment without observation, succeeded in throwing the whole body into complete and iiTemediable contusion, 'llie Scots made but a feeble and unavailing resistance, and v.ere soon routed and dispersed in everj- direc- tion, Philip de 31owbray is said to have unhorsed the king, whom he seiiied, calling aloud that he had sot the new made king ; when Robert was gallantly rescued li-oin his perilous situation by Chr) stal de Seton his body esquire. Ano- ther account affinns that Robert was thrice unhorsed in the conflict, and thrice remounted by Simon Frazer. So desperate, indeed, were the personal risks which the King encountered on that disastrous night in the fruitless efforts which he made to rally his dismayed and discomfited followei-s, that, for a time, being totally unsupported, he was made prisoner by John de Haliburton, a Scotsman in the English army, but who set him at liberty on discovering who he was. To have sustained even a slight defeat at the pi-esent juncture would have proved of incalculable injun,- to Bruce's cause : the miserable overthrow at 3Ieth- ven, seemed to have terminated it for ever ; and to have left little else for Edward to do, unless to satisfy at his leisure the vindictive retribution which he had so solemnly bound himself to execute. Several of Robert's truest and bravest friends were made prisoners ; among Avliom were Haye, Barclay, Frazer, Inch- martin, Sommerville, and Randolph. With about five hundred men, all that he was able to muster from the broken and dispirited remains of his array, Bruce penetrated into the mountainous country of Athole. In this small, but attached band, he still numbered the Earls of Athole and Errol, Sir James Douglas, Sir Neil Campbell, and his own brave brothers, Edward and Nigel. Bruce and his small party, reduced indifferently to the condition of proscribed and hunted outlaws, endured the extremity of hardships among the wild and bar- ren fastnesses to which they had retreated for shelter. The season of the year, it being then the middle of summer, rendered such a life, for a time, possible ; but as the weather became less favourable, and their wants increased in propor- tion, they were constrained to descend into the low countrj' of Aberdeenshire. Here Robert met with his queen and many other ladies who had fled thither for safety ; and who, with an affectionate fortitude resolved, in the company of their fathers and husbands, to brave the same edls with which they found them encom- passed. The respite which the royal party here enjoyed was of brief duration. Learning that a superior body of English was advancing upon them, they were forced to leave the low countiy and take refuge in the mountainous district of Breadalbane. To these savage and unhospitable retreats they were accompanied by the queen and the other ladies related to the party and to their broken for- tunes by ties, it would seem, equally strong ; and again had the royalists to sus- tain, under yet more distressing circumstances, the rigorous severity of their lot. Hunting and fishing were the precarious, though ahuosl the only means, which they had of sustaining life; and the good Sir James Douglas is particularly noticed by the minute Barbour for his success in these pursuits ; and the devoted 3.U ROnERT BRUCE. zeal which he ni.iiiifested in procuring every possible alleviation and coiofort for his forlorn and helpless companions. While the royalists thus avoided tlie iniaivdiate peril uhlch had threatened them from one quarter, by abiding- in those natural strono-holds ivhich tlieir enemy could not force, they ahuost inevitably came in contact with another dan- ger no less imminent. 1 hey fell upon Charybdis seeking to avoid Scylla. The Ixird of Lorn, upon the borders of whose tenitories they lay, was nearly con- nected by marriage with the family of ihe murdered Comyii : and, as might be expected, entertained an implacable hatred towards the person and the cause of the Scottish king. Having e^irly intelligence of the vicinity, numbers, and necessi- ties of the fugitive royalists, this powerful baron collected together a body of nearly a thousand of his martial dependants, men well acquainted with the advan- tages and difficulties of such a country, and besetting the passes, obliged the king to come to battle in a narrou' deiile where the horse of the party could possibly prove of no senice, but were indeed an incumbi-ance. Considerable loss was sustained on the king's side in the action; and Sir James Douglas and de la Have were both wounded. The king dreading the total destruction of his followers, ordered a retreat; and himself boldly taking post in the rear, by desperate courage, strength, and activity, succeeded in chec'dng the fur\- of the pursuei-s, and in extricating his party. Tlie place of this memorable contest is still pointed out, and remembered by the name of Daln', or the king's lield. Tlie almost incredible displays of pei^sonal prowess and addi-ess which Robert made on this occasion, are reported to have drawn forth the admiration even of his deadly enemies. In one of those repeated assa ilts ^vliich he was obliged to make in order to repress the impetuous pursuit of tlie assailants, he was beset, all at once, by three armed antagonists, 'litis occuired in a pass, formed by a loch on the one side, and a precipitous bank on the other, and so naiTO^r as scarcely to allow of two hoi*ses riding a-breasL One seized the king's hoi-se by the bridle ; but by a blo.v, which severed his arm in two, was almost instantly dis- abled. Another got hold of the rider's foot within the stirrup iron with the purpose of unhorsing him ; but the king standing up in the stinup, and urging his steed forward, dragged the unfortunate assailant to the ground. The third person leaped up behind him in liope of pinioning his arms and making him prisoner, or of despatching him with his dagger ; but turning round, and exert- ing his utmost strength, Robert forced him forwards upon the hoi-sL"s neck and slew him ; after which he killed the helpless wretch who still dragged at his side. Barbour, the ancient authority by whom this deed of desperate valour is recoided, has contrived, whether intentionally or not, to throw an air of probability over it The laird of 3Ia(naughton, a follower of the lord of Lorn, we are told, was bold enough, in the presence of his chief, to express a generous admiration of the conduct of the heroic king. Being upbraided for a liberality which seemed to imply a want of consideration for the lives and honour of his own men, he replied by nobly observing, " that he who won the prize of ciiivalrj-, whetlier friend or foe, deserved to be spoken of ^vith respect." The danger which the royalist party had thus for the time escaped, the near approach of winter, durins" which, in so sterile a countn,-, the means of support could not be procured, and the almost certain destruction which they \'.ould en- | counter should they descend into the level country, induced the king to give up j all thoughts of keeping the field longer in the face of so many pressing and ! manifest perils and difficulties. The queen and the ladies who accompanied her, ' were put under the escort of the remaining cavalry ; and the charge of conduct- ing them safely to the strong castle of Kildrummie, committed to Mgel, the king's second brollter, and the earl of Athole. 'ihe parting was sonowful on both i ROBERT BRUCE. 355 sides ; and Robert lieru took tlic last leave of his brother Nigel, who not long after fell among many others, a victim to the inexorable vengeance of Mdward. Robert now resolved, with the few followers wliom he still retained, amounting to about two hundred men, to force a passage into Cantire ; that thence he might cross over into tlie north of Ireland, probably with tlie hope of receiving assistance from the earl of Ulster, or, at all events, of eluding for a season the hot pursuit of his enemies. At the banks of Lochlomond the progress of the party was interrupted. They dared not to travel rotuid the lower end of the lake, lest they sliould encounter the forces of Argyle ; and until they should reach the friendly countiy of the earl of i/cnnox, they could not, for a moment, consider themselves safe from the enemies who hung upon their rear. Douglas, after a long sean^h for some means of conveyance, was fortunate enougli to dis- cover a small boat capable of carrying three pei-sons, but so leaky and decayed, that there would be much danger in trusting to it. In this, Avhich was their only resoui-ce, the king and Sir Jauies were ferried over the lake. Some accom- plished the passage by swimming ; and the little boat went and returned until all the others were at length safely transported. The royalists, forlorn as their circumstances were, here felt themselves relieved from the harassing disquietudes which liad attended their late precipitate marclies ; and the king, while they were refreshing themselves, is said to have recited for their entertainment the story of the siege of Egrymor, from the romance of Ferembras : thus with a consciousness of genuine gre.itness, which could aflbrd the sacrifice, was Robert cheerfully contented to resign the privilege which even superior calamity itself bestowed upon him ; and divert his own sympatliies, in common with those of his humblest followers, into other and more pleasing channels. It was here, while traversing the woods in search of food, that the king acci- dentally fell in with the earl of Lennox, ignorant till then of the fate of his so- vereign, of whom he had received no intelligence since the defeat at 3Iethven. Tlie meeting is said to have affected both, even to teai-s. By the earl's exertions the royal party were amply supplied with provisions, and wei'e shortly after en- abled to reach in safety the castle of Dunaverty in Cantire, where they were hosnitably received by Angus of Isla. Bruce remained no longer in this place than was necessary to recruit the sti-ength and spirits of his companions. Sir N'iel Campbell having provided a number of small vessels, tlie fugitive and now self-exiled king, accompanied by a tew of his most faithfid follov.ers, passed (#er to the small island of Rachrin, on the north coast of Ireland, where they re- mained during the ensuing winter. A miserable destiny awaited the friends and partisans whom Bruce had left in Scotland. Immediately after the rout at 3Iethven, Edward issued a proclamation by which search was commanded to be made after all those who had been in arms against the English government, and they were ordered to be delivered up dead or alive. It was ordained, that all who were at the slaughter of Comyn, or who had* harboured the guilty persons or their accomplices, should be dra\vn and hanged : that all Avho were already taken, or might hereafter be taken in anus, and all who harboured them, should be hanged or beheaded ; that those who had voluntarily sun-endered themselves, should be imprisoned during the king's plea- sure : and that all persons, whether of the ecclesiastical order or laymen, who had willingly espoused the cause of Bruce, or who ha^ procured or exhorted the people of Scotland to rise in rebellion, should, upon conviction, be imprisoned during the king's pleasure. With regard to the common people, a discretionary power of fining and ransoming them, was committed to the guardian. This ordinance was inforced with a rigour corresponding to the spirit in which it was framed : and the dread of Edward's venafeance became general through- 356 ROBERT BRUCE. out the kiiiydoni. The castle of Kihh-ainiuie heing threatened by tlie English forces in the north, Elizabetii, Briice's queen, and 3Iarjory his daugiiter, with tile other ladies who had there taken refuge, to escape the hardships and dan- gers of a siege, fled to the sanctuary of St Duthac at Tain in Koss-shire. Tlic earl of Koss violated the sanctuary, and making them prisoners, sent them into Eng- land. Certain kniglits and squires Ijy wlioui they h.ad been escorted, being taken at the same time, were p it to death. The queen and her daughter, though doomed to experience a long captivity, appear to have been invariably treated with becoming respect. Isabella, countess of Buchan, v,ho had signalized her patriotism on the occasion of Roberts coronation, had a fate somewhat dili'erent. Feeling repugnant to the infliction of a capital punishment, the English king had recoiu-se to an ingenious expedient by which to satisfy his royal vengeance upon this unfortunate lady. By a particular ordinance she was ordered to be confined in a cage to be constructed in one of the towers of Berwick castle ; the cage bearing in shape the resemblance of a crown; and the countess was actually kept in this miserable durance, with little relaxation of its severity, for the re- mainder of her life. Mary, one of Bruce's sislers, was committed to a similar custody in one of the towers of Roxburgh castle ; and Christina another sister was confined in a convent. Lamberton, bishop of St Andrews, and Wisheart bishop of Glasgow, and ihe abbot of Scone, who had openly assisted and favoured Robert's cause, owed their lives solely to the inviolability of clerical character in those days. Lamberton and the abbot of Scone were committed to close custody in England. Wisheart h.iving been seized in armour, was, in that uncanonical garb, carried a prisoner to the castle of Nottingham, where he is said to have been confined in irons. Edward earnestly solicited the pope to have these rebellious ecclesiastics do- posed — a request with which his holiness does not seem to have complied. The castle of Kildrmniuie was besieged by the earls of Lancaster and Here- ford. Being a place of considerable strength, it might have defied the English army for a length of time ; had not the treachery of one of the garrison, who set fire to the magazine of grain and provisions, constrained it to surrender at dis- cretion. Nigel Bruce, by whom the castle had been defended, was carried pri- soner to Berwick ; where, being tried by a special commission, he was cun- denmed, hanged, and afterwards beheaded. This miserable fate of the king's br(Jther, excited a deep and universal detestation among the Scots towards the unrelenting cruelty of Edward. Christopher Seton, the brother-in-law of Bruce, and Alexander Seton, sufiered under a similar sentence, the one at Dumfries, and the other at Newc;istle. The earl of Athole, in attempting to make his es- cape by sea, was discovered and conducted to London ; where he under-.vent the complicated punishment then connnonly inflicted on traitors, being hanged till only half dead, beheaded, disemboweled, " and the trunk of his body burnt to ashes before his own face." He was riot drawn, that point of pmiishment being remitted. Edward, we are told, although then grievously sick, endured the pains of his disease with greater patience, after hearing of the capture of the earl of Athole. Simon Frazer of Olivar Castle, the friend and companion in arms of Wallace, being also taken at this time, sufl'ered capitally at London ; his head being placed on the point of a lance, was set near to that of his old friend and leader. Along with this brave man, was likewise executed Herbert de Norhani. Among so many persons of note, others of inferior distinction did not escape ; and Edward might, indeed, be said by his tyranny, to have even now efiected that critical though unperceived change in popular feeling, which, only requu'ing conuncncement of action and a proper direction, would be, in its progressive energy, equal to the destruction of all liis past schemes, and of all his future projects and ROBERT BRUCE. 357 liopes. At all events, the effect of his extreme justice in avenging the death of (Jomyn, uas of that kind, where, by the infliction of an unnecessary or dispro- portionably cruel punishment, detestation of the crime is lost sight of, in a just and natural comniiseratiou for the criminal. That Edward's was but an assumed passion for justice, under which wiis cloaked a selfish and despotic vengeance, rendered it the more odious ; and tended to abate tlie rancour of those who, on more allowable gi'ounds, desired the ruin of the Scottish lung. To com2)lete the measure of Uobert's misfortunes, he and all his adherents were solemnly exconnuunicated by the pope's legate at Carlisle. Tlie lordship of Annandale was bestowed on the earl of Hereford ; the earldom of Camck on Henry de Percy; and his English estates were disposed of in like manner. During this period Bruce, fortunately, out of tlie reacii and knowledge of his enemies in the solitary island of Rachrin, remained ignorant of the fate of his family and friends in Scotland. Fordun relates that, in derision of his hopeless and unknown condition, a sort of ribald proclamation was made after hiuj through the churches of Scotland, as lost, stolen, or strayed. The approach of spring, and a seasonable supply, it is said, of money which lie received from Christina of the Isles, again roused the activity of liobert and his trusty foUowei's. Sir James Douglas, with the permission of his master, first passed over to Arran ; where, shortly after his landing, he and the few men with him, surprised a party belonging to Brodick castle, in act of conveying provi- sions, arms, and clothing to that gan'ison, and succeeded in making seizure of the cargo. Here he was in a few days joined by the king, who arrived from Kach- rin with a small fleet of thirty-three galleys. Having no intelligence respecting the situation or movements of the enemy, a trusty person named Cuthbert was despatched by the king to the opposite shore of Camck, with instructions to sound the dispositions of the people ; and, if the occasion seemed favourable for a descent among them, to make a signal, at a day appointed, by lighting a fire upon an eminence near the castle of Turnberry. The country, as ilie messenger found, was fully possessed by the English ; the castle of Turnberry in the hands of Percy, and occupied by a gaiTison of near three hundred men ; and the old vassals of Bruce dispirited or indifferent, and many of them hostile. Appear- ances seemed, altogether, so unfavourable, that Cuthbert, without making himselt known to any person, resolved to return to the king without making the signal agreed upon. From the dawn of the day on which he was to expect the appointed signal, Robert watched anxiously the opposite coast of Carrick, at the point from which it should become visible. He was not disappointed, for when noon had already passed, a fire was plainly discerned on the rising ground above Turnberry. As- sured that this could be no other than the concerted signal of good tidings, the king gave orders for the instant embarkation of his men, who amounted to about three hundred in number. It is reported that, while the king ^vas walking on the beach, during the preparations making for putting to sea, the woman at whose house he had lodged requested an audience of him. Pretending to a knowledge of future events, she confidently predicted that he should soon be king of Scotland ; but that he must expect to encounter many difficulties and dangers in the course of the war. As a proof of her oavu confidence in the truth of her prediction, she sent her two sons along with him. Whetiier this incident was concerted by the king himself, or was simply an eficct of that very singular delusion, the second sight, said to be inherent among these islanders, is of little consequence. Either way, it could not fail of impressing on the ru.e pursuit of its prey. Unwilling for this cause alone, to disturb the repose of his fatigued followers, Robert determined, as it was a clear moon- light night, and the post he occupied favoui-able for observation, to ascertain more exactly the reality of the danger. He soon heard the voices of men urg- ing tlie hound forward, and no longer doubtful but that his enemies had fallen upon tlie ti-ack, and would speedily be upon him, he dispatched his two attend- ants to warn his men of the danger. The blood-hounds, true to their instinct, led tlie body of Gallovidians directly to the ford where the king stood, who then hastily bethought himself of the imminent danger there was of the enemy gaining possession of this post before his men could possibly come to its defence. Should this happen, the destruction of himself and his whole party ^vas nearly inevitable. So circumstanced, Robert boldly determined, till succour should ar- rive, to defend the passage of the ford, which was the more possible, as, from its narrowness, only one assailant could pass over at a time. The Galloway men coming in a body to the spot, and seeing only a solitai-y individual posted on the opposite side to dispute theii- way, the foremost of their number rode boldly into the water; but in attempting to gain the other bank of the stream, Bruce with a thrust of his spear laid him dead on the spot. The same fate awaited four of his companions, whose bodies became a sort of rampart of defence against the others ; who, dismayed at so unexpected and fatal a reception, fell back for a moment in some confusion. Instantly ashamed that so many should be baffled by the individual prowess of one man, they returned furiously to the att^ick ; but 3G0 ROBERT BRUCE. were so valiantly met and opposed by the king-, that the post was still main- tained, when the loud shout of Kobert's followers advancing to his rescue, warned the Gallovidians to retire, after siistainin<^ in this unexampled combat the loss of fourteen of their men. The danger to which the king had been exposed on this occasion, and the gi-eat daring and bravery which he had manifested, sensibly roused the spirits of his party, who now began, with incre.asing confidence and numbers, to dock to his standard. Douglas, who had been successfully em- ployed against the English in his own district of Douglas-dale, also about this time, joined the king with what followers he had been able to muster among the vassals of his family. Pembroke, the guardian, at the head of a considerable body of men, now took the field against Robert ; and was joined by John of Lorn, with a body of eight hundred Highlanders, men well calculated for that in-egular species of warfare to which 13ruce was necessitated to have recourse. Lorn is said to have had along with him a blood-hound which had once belonged to the king, and which was so strongly attached to its old mastei', and familiar with his scent, that if once it got upon his track it would never part from it for any other. These two armies advanced separately, Pembroke carefully keeping to the low and open country, where his cavalry could act with ellect ; while Lorn, by a circuit- ous rout, endeavoured to gain the rear of the king's party. The Highland chieftain so well succeeded in this mannpuvre, that before Robert, whose atten- tion had been wholly occupied by the forces under Pembroke, was aware of his danger, he foinid himself environed by two hostile bodies of troops, either of which was greatly superior to his own. In this emergency, the king, having appointed a place of rendezvous, divided his men into three companies, and ordered them to reti-eat as they best might, by ditlerent routes, that thus, by dis- tracting the attention of the enemy, they might have the better chance of escape. Lorn arriving at the place where the Scottish army had separated, set loose tlie blood-hound, which, falling upon the king's scent, led the pm-suers imme- diately on the track which he had taken. The king finding himself pursued, again subdivided his remaining party into three, but without eil'ect, for the hound still kept true to the track of its former master. The case now appearing desperate, Robert ordered the remainder of his followers to dispei-se themselves; and, accompanied by only one person, said to have been his foster-brother, endeavoured by this last means to frustrate the pni-suit of the enemy. In this he was of course unsuc<3essful ; and Lorn, who no\v saw the hound choose that direction which only two men had taken, knew certainly that one of these must be the king; and despatched five of his s\\iftest men after them with ordei-s either to slay them, or delay their flight till others of the party came to their assistance. Robert, finding these men gaining hotly upon him, faced about, and, with the aid of his companion, slew them alL Lorn's men were now so dose upon him that the king could perceive they were led on by means of a blood-hound. Fortunately, he and his companion had reached the near covert of a wood, situated in a valley through which ran a brook or rivulet. Taking advantage t»f this circumstance, by which they well knew the artiiice of their pursuers would be defeated, Rruce and his foster-brother, before turning into any of the surrounding thickets for shelter, travelled in the water of the stream so far as they judged necessary to dissipate and destroy the strong scent upon which the hound had proceeded. The highland chieftain, who \vas straightway directed to the rivulet, along which the fugitives had diverged, here found that the hound had lost its scent ; and aware of the difiiculty and fruitlessness of a further search, was reluctantly compelled to quit the chase and retire. By ano- ther account, the escape of Bruce from the blood-hound is told thus : An archer ROBRRT BRUCE. 301 wlio had kept near to tlie kin<^ in his ilight, having- disrovered that by means of the hoiiiul Robert's course had been invariably tracked, stole into a tiiioket and i'rom thence despatched the animal with an aiTow ; after whii^h he made his esca]>e undiscovered into the wood whicli the kin^- liad entered. ]3ruce readied in safety the rendezvous of iiis party, after havin;^ naiTowlv escaped from the treachery of three men by whom, however, his faithful com- panion and foster-brother v,as slain. The iinglish, under the impression that the Scottish army was totally dispersed, neglected, in a i;reat measure, the pre- cautions necessary in their situation, llobert having- intelligence of the state of security in which they lay, succeeded in surprising a body of two hundred, care- lessly cantoned at some little distance from the main army, and put the greater part of them to the sword. Tembroke, shortly after, retired witli his whole forces, towards the borders of England, leaving spies beliind him to watch the motions of his subtile enemy. I3y means of these he was not long in gaining su(!li information as led hina to hope tiie surprisal of the king and his party. Approaching with great secrecy a certain ^vood in Glentruel, where Robert then lay, he was on the point of accomplishing his purpose ; when the Scots happily in time discovering their danger, rushed forth imexpectedly and furiously upon tlieir assailants and put them completely to llight Pendjroke, upon this de- feat, retreated with his army to Carlisle. Robert encouraged by these successes, and by the general panic which he sa^v to prevail among the enemy, now ventured down upon the low country ; and was soon enabled to reduce the districts of Kyle, Carrick, and Cunningham to his obedience. Sir Philip Mowbray having been dispat(-hed with a thousand men to make head against this rapid progress, was attacked at advantage by Douglas with so much spirit that, after a loss of sixty men, his whole force was routed, himself naii'owly escaping in the pm-suit, Pembroke, by this time alarmed for the safety and credit of his government, determined again to take the field in person. Putting himself at the head of a strong body of cavalry, he advanced into Ayrshire, and came up Mith the army of Bruce then encamped on Loudon-hill. The Scottish king, though his forces were still greatly inferior in number, and consisted entirely of infantry, deter- mined on the spot on whi(;li he had posted himself, to give battle to the English comuiander. lie had selected his ground on this occasion with great judgment, and had taken care, by strongly entrenching tiie flanks of his position, to render as ineffectual as possible tlie numbers and cavalry of the enemy. His force amounted in all to about six hundred men who were entirely spearmen ; that of Pembroke did not amount to less than three thousand well mounted and armed soldiery, displaying an imposing contrast to the small but unyielding mass- who stood ready to oppose them, Pembroke, dividing his army into two lines or divisions, ordered the attack to be connuenced ; when the van, having their lances couched, advanced at full gallop to the charge. The Scots sustained the shock with determined firmness, and a desperate conflict ensuing, the English van was at length driven faii-ly back upon the rear or second division. This vigorous repulse decided the fortune of the day. The Scots, now the assailants, followed up closely the advantage which tliey had gained, and the rear of the English, panic-struck and disheartened, began to give way, and finally to retreat. The confusion and rout soon becoming general, Pembroke's whole army was put to flight; a considerable number being slain in the battle and pursuit, and many jnade prisoners. The loss on the part of the Scots is said to have been extremely small. Three days after the battle of Loudon-liill, Bruce encountered Monthennur at the head of a body of English, whom he defeated with great slaughter, and I. '2 z 3G2 ROiiERT BKUCE. obliged to take refuge in tlie castle of Ayr. He, for some time, blnokaded this place ; but retired at tlie apprDach of siiccdius from iOnglaiid. These siic(X'Sses, though in themselves limited, pi'ovcd, in elfect, of the utmost importance to Ro- bert's cause, by confen-ing upon it that stability of character in men's minds wliich, hitherto, it had never attained. The death of Edward I., at this period, was another event wiiich could not but favourably atiect the fnrtunes of Scotland, at the very moment wlien the whole foi-ce of ICngland \vas collected for its inva- sion. Tiiat great monarch's resentment and hatred towards IJruce and his patriotic followers did not die with him. With ids last breath, he gave orders that his dead body should accompany the army in its march into Scotland, and remain unburied until that country was totally subdued. Edward II. disre- garded this singular injunction, and had the body of his father more bcconnngly disposed of in the royal sepulchi-e at Westminster. lulward II. on his accession to the throtie of England soon proved himself but iil-qualiiied for the conduct of those great designs which his father's demise had devolved upon him. Of a weak and obstinate disposition, lie was im-apable of appreciating, far less of acting up to the dying counsels and injunctions of his horoic father. His utter disi-egard for these was, indeed, manifested in the very fii-it act of his reign ; that of recalling his iniworthy favourite I'iers Gaves- ton from exile, who with other minions of his own cast v.;is I'rom that moment to take the place of all the faithful and experienced ministers of the late king, and exercise a sole and unlimited sway over the weak and cp.pricious humours of their master. Edward by this measure laid an early foundation for the disgust and alienation of his English sul)jects. His management in regard to Scotland was eqtially unpropitious. After wasting nuich valuable time at Dumfries and Roxburgli In receiving the homage of the Scottish barons; he advanced with his great army as far as Cuuniock in Ayrs'.iire, fi'oni whence, without striking a blow, he retreated into England, and disbanded his whole forces. A campaign so use- less and inglorious, after all the mighty preparation spent upon it, could not biit have a happy eiTect upon the rising fortunes of the Scottish patriots, while it dis- heartened all in Scotland who from whatever cause favoured the English interest. The English king had no sooner retired, than Eruce invaded Galloway, and, Avherever opposed, wasted the country with fire and sword. The fate of his two brothers, who had here fallen into the hands of the chictuiin Macdowal, most proba- bly influenced the king in this act of severe retribution. The Earl of Rich- mond, whom Edwarfi had newly created guardian, was sent to oppose his pro- gress, upon whicii Robert retired into the north of Scotland, leaving Sir James Douglas in the south, for the purpose of reducing the forests of Selkirk and Jed- burgh to obedience. The king, without encountering almost any resislam^e, over-ran great part of the north, seizing, in his progress, the castle of Inverness and many other fortified places, which he ordered to be entirely demolished. Returning southward, he v.as met by the Earl of Buchan at the head of a tumul- tuary body of Scots and hln^lish, whom, at tl;e first charge, he put to fliglit. In the course of this exi)edition, the king became affected with a grievous illness, which reduced his bodily and mental strength to that degree, that little hopes were entertained of his recovery. Ancient historians have attributed this malady to the efVects of the cold, famine, poor lodging and hardships, to Avhich, ever since the defeat at 3Iethven, the king had been subjected. Buchan, encouraged by the intelligence which he received of the king's illness, and eager to efli'ace the dishonour of his late retreat, again assembled iiis nume- rous followers ; and being joined by IMowbray, an English commander, came up with the king's forces, then strongly posted near Slaines, on the east coast of Aberdeenshire- The royalists avoided battle ; and beginning to be straitened ROBERT BRUCE, 3o3 for ju'ovisioiis retired in j^ood order, first to Stratlibout assist- ance, he resolved to take immediate vengeance on liis insolent enemy. Sup- ported by two men on each sirotlier. Douglas, after achievinu^ many advantages in the soutli, aiuonw wliich, the suo cessive (;aptures of his own castle in Oou^lasdala were the most remarkable, about this time, sirprised and made prisoners Alexander Stewart of laonkil and Tho- mas Randolph, the kind's nepliew. When llandolph, who from the defeat at Methven, had adhered faitlifuUy to the English interest, was brouglit before his sovereiijn, the king is reported to have said ; " Nephew, you have been an apos- tate lor a season ; you must now be reconciled." " I'ourcfjuire penance oi me" replied Randolph fiercely, " yourself rather ought to do penance. Since you challenged the king of England to war, you ought to have asserted youi* title in the open field, and not to have betaken yourself to cowardly ambuscades." " Tlial may be hereafter, and perchance ere long," the king calmly replied ; " meanwhile, it is fitting that your proud words receive due chastisement; and that you be taught to know my right and your own duty.'' After this rebuke, Randolph was ordered for a time into close confinement. This singular inter- view may ha^e been preconcerted between the parties, for the purpose of cloak- ing under a show of constraint, Randolph's true feelings in joining the cause of his royal relative. Certain it is, his confinement was of brief duration ; and in all the after acts of his life, he made evident with hoAv he.irty and zealous a devotion he had entered on his new and more honourable field of enterprise. Shortly after the rcjunction of Douglas, Bruce carried his arms into the terri- tory of Lorn, being now able to take vengeance on the proud chieftain, ^vho, after the defeat at Methven, had so nearly accomplished his desti'uction. To op- pose this invasion the lord of Lorn collected a force of about two thousand men, whom he posted in ambuscade in a defile, having the high mountain of Cruachen Ben on the one side, and a precipice ovei'hanging Lochawe on the other. This pass was so narrow in some places, as not to admit of two horsemen passing a-brea-st, Robert who had timely inforuiation of the manner in which this road \vas beset, through which he must necessarily pass, detached one half of his army, consisting entirely of light armed troops and ai'chers, under Douglas, with orders to make a circuit of the mountain and so gain the high ground in the rear and flank of the enemy's position. He himself with the rest of his troops entei-ed the pass, where they were soon attacked from the ambushuient with great fury. Tiiis lasted not long ; for the party of Douglas (juickly appearing on the heights iiuuiediately above them and in their rear, the men of Lorn were cast into inevi- table confision. After annoying the enemy with repeated flights of aiTOws, Douglas descended the mountain and fell upon them sword in hand ; the king, at the sauie tim:', pressing upon them from the pass. They were defeated witli great slaughter ; and .lohn of Lorn, who had planned this unsuccessful ambush, after witnessing its miscarriage from a little distance, soon after put to sea and retired into Lngland. Robert laid waste the whole district of Lorn ; and gain- ing possession of Dunstatlhage, the principal place of strength belonging to the family, garrisoned it strongly with his own men. While Bruce and his partisans were thus successfully engaged in ^vresting their country from the power of England, and in subduing the refractory spirit of some of their own nobility, every thing was feeble and fluctuating in the councils of their enemies. In les-i than a year, Ed^vard changed or re-appointed the gover- nors of Scotland six ditierent times. Through the mediation of Bhilip king of France, a short truce was finally agreed upon between Edward and Robert ; but infractions having been made on both sides, Bruce laid siege to the castle of Rutherglcu. In February, 1310, a truce was once more agreed upon; notwith- standing which John de Segrave was appointed to the guardianship of Scot- ROBERT BRUCE. 365 land on both sides of the Forth ; and had the warlike power of the north of lingland placed at his disposa'. It was early in the same year that the clergy of Scotland assembled in a provincial coini(;il, and issued a declaration to all the faithful, bearing, that the Scottish nation, seeing the kingdom betrayed and enslaved, had assumed Robert IJruce for their king, and that tiie clergy had willingly done hom.age to him in that character. During these negotiations, hostilities were never entirely laid aside on either side. The advantages of tiie warfare, however, were invariably on the side of ih-uce, who now seemed preparing to attack Fertli, at that time an important lortress, and esteemed the <;apilal of Scotland. Roused to activity by this dan- ger, Edward made preparations for the immediate defence and succour of that place. He also appointed the Earl of Ulster to the command of a body of Irisli troops who were to assemble at Dublin, and from thence invade Scotland; and tlie \vhole military array of England was ordered to meet the king at Berwick ; but the English nobles disgusted with the government of Edward, and detesting his favourite Gaveston, repaired unwillingly and slo\vly to the royal standard. Before his preparations could be brought to bear, the season for putting to sea had passed, and Edward was obliged to countermand the forces under the Eai-1 of Ulster ; still resolving, however, to invade Scotland in person, with the large army which he had collected upon the border. Towards the end of autumn the Eng- lish commenced their march, and directing their course through the forest of Selkirk to Biggar, thence are said to have penetrated as far as Renfre^v. Not finding the enemy, in any body, to oppose their progress, and unable from die season of the year, aggravated, as it was, by a severe famine which at that very time afflicted the land, to procure forage and provisions, the army making no abode in those parts, retreated by the way of Linlithgow and the Lothians to Berwick ; where Edward, after this ill-concerted and fruitless expedition, re- mained inactive for eight months. Bruce, during this invasion, cautiously avoided coming to an open engagement with the greatly superior forces of the enemy ; contenting himself witii sending detached parties to hang upon their rear, who, as opportunity offered, might harass or cut oti' the marauding and foraging parties of the English. In one of these sudden assaults the Scots put to the swoi-d a body of three hundred of the enemy before any sufiicient force could be brought up for their rescue. About this time the castle of Linlithgow, a place of great utility to the luig- lish, as being situated midway between Stirling and Edinburgh, was surprised by the stratagem of a poor peasant named William Binnock. This man, having been employed to lead hay into the fort, placed a party of armed friends in ambush as near as possible to the gate ; and concealing under his seeming load of hay, eight armed men, advanced to the castle, himself walking carelessly by the side of the wain, while a servant led the cattle in front. When the carriage was fairly in the gateway, so that neither the gates of the castle could be closed nor the portcidlis let down, the person in front who had charge of the oxen cut the soam or withy rope by whicii the animals were attached to the wain, which thus, instantly, became stationary. Binnock, making a concerted signal, his armed friends leaped from under the hay, and mastered the sentinels ; and be- ing iumiediately joined by the other party in ambush, the garrison, almost without resistance, were put to the sword, and the place taken. Binnock was well rewarded by the king for this daring and successful exploit ; and the castle \vas ordered to be demolished. Robert, finding that his authority was now well established at home, and that Edward was almost entirely engrossed by the dissensions which had sprung up anioiiji; his own subjects, resolved, by an invasion of England, to retaliate in 366 ROBERT BRUCE. some measure the miseries wilh which tliai coiiiiU'^' had so long afflicted liis king- dom. ,\s>erabliiig a considerable army, he advanced into the bishopric of Dur- ham, laying waste the counU'v uith fire and sword ; and giving up tlie whole district U) the unbounded and re(-i;less license of the s.ddiery. " Ihus," says Pordun, " by the blessing of (iod, and by a just retribution of providence, were the perfidious English, who had despoiled and slaughtered many, in their turn subjected to punishment" Edward II. made a heavy ci;mplaint to the l^ope, of the "horrible ravages, depredations, bui-nings, and murdei-s" committed by " Robert l;r;ice and his accomplices" in this inroad, in which "neither age nor sex were spared, nor even the imnmnities of ecclesiastical liberty respecied." The papal tluuidur had. however, already descended harmless on the Scottish king and his party ; and the time had arrived, when the nation eagerly hoped, and the English might well dread the coming of that storm, which should avenge, by a requital alike bloody and indiscriminate, those WTongs which, without dis^ tinction, had been so mercilessly indicted upon it. Soon after his return from England, Robert, again drawing an army together, laid siege to Perth, a place in thuse days so strongly foriitied, that, with a sutn- cient garrison, and abundance of provisions and militai-y stores, it might bid defiance to any open force that could be brought against it. Having Iain before the town for si.v weelvs, the king seeing no prospect of being able to reduce it by main force, raised tlie siege, and retu'ed to some distance, as if resolved to desist from the enterprize. He had gained intelligence, however, that the ditch which suiTounded the town was fordable in one place, of whingland, now joined the rising fortunes of his hnvful sovereign. Through the mediation of France conferences for a truce were renewed ; but notwithstanding of these Robert invaded Cumlierland, wasting the country to a great extent. The Cum- brians earnestly besought succour froju Edward : but that prince being about to 368 ROBERT BRUCE. depart for France, did nothing but extol their fidelity, desiring them to defend themselves until his return. JJy invading Cumberland at tliis time, Bruce pro- bably intended to draw the attention of the English from the more serious design whicii lie contemplated of malcing a descent upon the isle of 31an. lie had scircely, therefore, returned from his predatoiy expedition into England, than, embarliiiig iiis forces, he landed unexpccte tlie niwde in tliose times. Two days before the battle, Bruce took up his position in a field not far from Stirling, then kno\vn by tlie name of New Park, which liad the castle on the left, and the brook of IJannock on the right. The banks of the rivulet were steep and rugged, and the ground between it and Stirling, being part of a park or chase, was partly open, and partly broken by copse-wood and marshy ground. The place was naturally well adapted for opposing and embarrassing the opera- tions of cavalry ; and to strengthen it yet more, those places whereby horsemen might have access, were covered with concealed pit-falls, so niunerous and close together, that according to our ancient authority, their construction nu'ght be likened to a honey-comb. They were a foot in width, and between two and three feet deep, many rows being placed, one behind the other, the whole being slightly covered with sods and brushwood, so as not to be obvious to an hnpetuous enemy. The king divided his regular forces into four divisions. Three of these occupied the intended line of battle, from the In-ook of Bannock, which covered his riglit flank, to the village of St Mnians, where their left must have remained somewhat exposed to tlie garrison of Stirling in their rear ; Bruce, perhaps, trusting in this disposition some little to the honour of Moubray, who by the terms of the treaty was precluded from making any attack, but probably more to his real inability of giving any efl^ctual annoyance. Edward Bruce commanded the light wing of thes3 three divisions, which was strengthened by a strong body of cavalry under Keith, tlie mareschal of Scotland, to whom was committed the charge of attacking the English archers ; Sir James Douglas, and the young Stewart of Scotland, led the central division ; and Thomas Randolph, now earl of Moray, the left. The king himself commanded the fourth or reserve division, composed of the men of Argyle, the islanders, and his own vassals of Can-ick. Tlie unarmed follov,ers of the camp, amounting, as we have said, to about fifteen thousand, were placed in a valley at some distance in the rear, separated from the field by an eminence, since denominated, it is supposed, from this circmn- stance, the (billies' ( tliat is, the servants' ) hill. These dispositions were made upon the 2-2d of June, 1314; and next day, being Sunday, the alarm reached the Scottish camp of the approa<;li of the enemy. Sir James Douglas and the mareschal were despatched with a body of cavalry to reconnoitre tlie English ai-my, then in full march from Falkirk towards Stirling. They soon returned, and, in private, informed the king of the formidable state of the enemy ; but gave out publicly, that the English, though indeed a numerous host, seemed ill commanded and disorderly. The hurried march of Edward into Scotland might give some colour of truth to this information ; but no sight, we are told by the ancient au- thors, could in reality be more glorious and animating than the advance of that great army, in which were concentrated the whole available chivalry, and all the martial pomp, which the power and riches of the English monarch could com- mand. Robeit was particularly anxious that no succours from the [English army should be allowed, previous to the engagement, to reach the gaiTison in Stirling castle, and enjoined Randolpii, who commanded the left wing of his army, to be vigi- lant in repelling any attempt which might be made for that purpose. This pre- caution was not unsuccessful ; for, as the English forces drew near, a body of eight hundred horsemen were detached under the command of Clifford, who, making a circuit by the low grounds to the east and north of St Ninians, attempted by that means to pass the front of the Scottish annv, and approach the castle. They were perceived by the king, who, coming hastily up to Randolpii, angrily exclaimed, " Thoughtless man ! you have suttered the enemy to jj.ass I. 3 a 370 ROBERT BRUCE. where vou were set to keep the way. A rose has fallen Irniii your cliaplet." On receivinn- this sharp reproof, Randolph instantly made haste, at the head of a body of live hundred spearmen, to redeem iiis negligence, or perish in the at- tempt- The I^nglish cavalry, perceiving his advance, wheeled round to attack hinu Randolph drew up his small body of man into a compact fonu, present- in"- a front of spears extending outwards on all sides, and uith steady resolution awaited the char€netrated by the western marches into Lanca- shire, committing their wonted devastations, and retui-ned home loaded witli spoil. Tlie king of Scots, who, at this time found no occasion for a general en- gagement w ith his gi-eatly superior enemy, fell upon a simple and effectual expe dient to render such an event unlikely, if not impossible. All the cattle and provisions of the 3Ierse, Tiviotdale, and the Lothians, he ordered to be removed into inaccessible or secine places; an order which was so exactly executed, that accoi*ding to ti'adition, the only prey which fell into the hands of the English was one solitaiy bull at Tranent, which, from lameness, had been unable to travel along with the other cattle. " Is that all ye have got ?" said the earl Warenne to the spoilei-s as they returned to the camp ; " I never saw so dear a beast" Ed- ward advanced without oppf)sition to the neighbourhood of Ei, a treaty of alliance, oll'ensive and defen- sive, with Scotland. On the accession of Edward 111., hostilities almost immediately r -commenced between the two kingdoms. That these originated on the side of the Scots seems generally allowed ; but the motives which led to them are now only matter of conjecture. One historian assigns as the cause, that the Scots had detei:ted the general bad faith of the English. According to Barbour, the ships of tliat na- tion had seized upon several Scottish ships bound for the low countries, slain the mariners, and refused to give satisfaction. That the king of Scotland, during the then weak state of the councils of England, had determined to insist upon the full recognition of his title, seenis to have been, from the decisiveness of hi? prepai'ations, the true, or more important, motive of the war. The campaign which followed, though, perhaps, as curious and interesting as any Avliich occurred during these long wars, cannot be entered upon in this place, at length suflicienl to render it instructive ; and it much more properly falls to be described in the lives of those two great generals, Randolph and Douglas, by whoiu it was con- ducted. The enterprise, on the part of England, was productive of enormous expense to that kingdom ; and it terminated not only without advantage, but without honour. The so long desired peace between the two kingdoms wa.« now near at hand. To attain this had been the gi-and and constant aim of all king Robert's policy ; and the court of England seemed, at length, persuaded of the immediate neces- sity of a measure, the expediency of which could not but have long appeared ob- vious. A negotiation w;xs therefore entered into, and brought to a hap^jy issue in a parliament held at Northampton in April, 1328. The principal articles were the recognition of king Robert's titles ; the indejiendent sovereignty of the kingdom ; and the man-iage of Johanna, king Edward's sister, to David, the son and heir of the king of Scots. Robert survived not long this consummation of his political life. lie had for some time laboured under an inveterate distemper, in those days called a leprosy ; a consequence of the fatigues, hardships, and sulferings which, to such an un2)ar- alleled degree, he had endured in the early part of liis career. It was probably the same disease as that Mith which he %vas alHicted prior to the battle of In- verury ; but though, at that time, the ardour of youth and enterprise, and a na- turally powerful constitution, had triumphed over its malignity, Robert seemed now fully aware that it must prove mortal. I'iie tivo last years of his life were spent in comparative seclusion, in a castle at Cardross, situated on the northern shore of the lirth of (Jlyde ; Avliere, from documents still extant, Robert passed these few peaceful, though embittered days of his life, in a st) le of munificence every way becoming his high station. Much of his time was devoted to the con- struction of ships : and whether he himself joined personally in such amuse- ments or not, the expense of aquatic and fishing excursions, hawking, and other sports, appears to have formed a considerable item of his domestic disbursements. From the same authentic source, it is pleasing to observe, that his charities to the poor Avere regular and befitting. Robert the Fii-st of Scotland died in this retirement, on the 7th day of June, 1 32!), in the fifty-fiflh year of his age, and twenty-third year of his reign. Prior to this event a remarkable and aflecting scene is recorting tlie threatened withdrawal of his inheritance. But Bruce, ^^ho is said to have felt what he considered a spiritual call towards his new profession, resigned his pretensions to the estate without a sigh, and, throwing ofl' the embroidered scarlet dress which he had worn as a courtier, exchanged his resi- dence at Edinburgh for tlie academical solitude of St Andi-ews, A\here he com- menced the study of theology. At this period, Andrew iMelville, the divinity professor of St Andrews, was undergoing banishment on account of liis opposition to the court ; but being permitted to resume his duties in 1586, Bi'uce enjoyed the advantage of his pre- lections for the ensuing winter, and appears to have become deeply imbued with liis peculiar spirit. In the summer of 1587, he was brought to Edinburgh by Melville, and recommended to the General Assembly, as a fit successor to the deceased Mr Lawson, who, in his turn, had been the successor of Enox. Tins charge, however, Bruce scrupled to i .idertake, lest he should be found luifit for its important duties; he would only consent to preacli till the next synod, by way of trying his abilities. It appears that he filled the pulpit for some months, though not an ordained clergyman ; wiiich certainly conveys a strange impression of the rules of the church at that period. He was even persuaded, on an emergency, to unuertake the task of dispensing the communion — which must be acknowledged as a still more remarkable breach of ecclesiastical system. He was soon after called by the unanimous voice of the people to become their pastor; but partly, perhaps, from a conscientious aversion to ordination, and partly from a respect to his former exerticnis, lie would never submit to any ceremonial, such as is considered necessary by all Christian churches in giving commission to a new member. He judged the call of the people and tlie appro- bation of the ministry to be sufficient warrant for his undertaldng this sacred profession. So rapidly did the reputation of Bruce advance among his brethren, that in six months after this period, at an extraordinary meeting of the General Asseni- ROBERT BRUCE. 385 t>iy, wliich was called to coiisi«ler the means of defence ly.iinst tlie bpanisli Ar- niada, lie was chosen Moderator. A chai-ge was preferred to this court against a preacher named (iibson, who had uttered disrespectful lan:^uage in liis pulpit I'Ogarding king James. The accused party was cliargcd to appear, and, failing to do so, was suspended for contumacy. There can be no doubt that the church was most reluctant to pro(M;ed to such an extremity with one of its members on a court charge ; and its readiness lo do so can only be accounted for as necessi- tated in some measure by the avowed constitution of the chin-ch itself, which io'peatedly set forth that it did not claim an exemption for its members from ordinary law, but only desired that an impeached individual should ^rs< be tried by his brethren. Accordingly Ave find the conscience of the Moderator imme- diately accusing him in a strange way for having yielded a brother to lay ven- geince ; for, on that night, he thought he heard a voice saying to him, in tlie ivatin language, * '>Vhy hast thou been present at the condemnation of my ser- vant?' When the destruction of the Spanish Armada Avas known in Scotland, Bruce preaclred two thanksgiving sermons, which were published in 1591, and display a strength of sentiment and language fully sufficient to vindicate the con- temporary reputation of the author to posterity. Master liobert Bruce,* as he was styled in compliance with the common fashion of the time, figured (;onspicuously in the turbulent pi'oceedings which, for some years after this pei'iod, characterised the ecclesiastical history of Scotland. By king James he seems to ha^^e been regarded with a mixture of respect, jea- lousy, and fear, the result of his powerful abilities, his uncompromising hostility to undue regal power, and the freedom Avith Avhich he censured the follies and vices ol" the court. It Avas by no means in contradiction to these feelings that, when James sailed for Denmark in i5S9, to bring home his queen, he raised Master Robert to the Privy Council, and invested him Avith a non-commissioned power of supervision over the behaviour of the people during his absence ; telling him, at the same time, that he had more confidence in him and the other minis- ters of Edinburgh, than in the Avhole of his nobles. The king knew Avell enough that if he did not secure the exertions of the clergy on the side of the govern- ment during his absence, they would certainly act against it. As might haA-e i)een expected from the influence of the clei'gy, the usual disorders of the realm ceased entirely during the supiemncy of tliis system of theocracy; and the chief honour of course fell upon Bruce. The turbulent Earl of Botluvell, Avho Avas the nominal head of the government, pi'oposed, dining James's absence, to make a public repentance for a life of juvenile profligacy. The sti-ange scene, which exhibited tlie first man in the kingdona humbled for sin before an ordinai-y Christian congregation, took place on the 9th of November in the High Church On this occasion Bruce preached a sermon from 2 Tim., chap, ii., verses 22—2(i, which Avas printed among others in 1591, and abounds in good sense, and in pointed and elegant language. When the sermon was ended, the Earl of Both- well upon his knees confessed his dissolute and licentious life, and Avith teai-s in his eyes uttered the following Avords — ' i wald to God, tiiat I might mak sic a repentance as mine heai't craveth ; and I desire you all to pi-ay for it,' But it was the repentance of Esau, and soon effaced by greater enormities. On the return of king James Avith his queen, in 3Iay, 1590, Bruce received the cordial thanks of his Majesty for his zeal in composing diiferenc^s during his absence, and his care in tutoring the people to behave decently before the queen and her Danish attendants. He Avas also honoured Avith the duty of placing the 1 Tlie itiiix, Miisler, appoui-s to have bt;eii first used in Scoliunil as part of the style of tlie ■lergy. Throughout theAvuole of the scA^enteeiith century, it is not observed to have been ao- ])!ied to any other class of men. I. 3 r 3S6 KOBERT BRUCE. crown ujion the q'lfteirs head al lier <;i>n)iiati(>n ; which was (considered a gi'eat tvimnph on the part of the I'reshytpi-lan ch'.ircli over the titular bisiiops. In the ensuing .lune, ]5ruvas now so imminently threatened l)y them, that its (conduct in regard to that body at this period, bears very much the aspect of persecution. Three Catholic earls, Hnntly, Angus, and lu-rol, had en- tered into the views which Spain for some years entertained against both divisions of Jk-itain ; and they were now justly liable to the exti-eme \engeance of their sovereign for treason. James, however, never could be brought to put the laws fidly in force .against them, from a fear lest the Catholic party in general might tiiereby be provoked to oppose his succession to Elizabeth. The backwardness of James, and the forwardness of the clergy in this cause, naturally brought them into violent collision, and as Bni(;e, next to Melville, was now the leader of tiie clergy, he became exceedingly odious to his sovereign. The following anecdote, related by an Episcopalian pamphleteer of a succeeding age, will illustrate their relative positions better than any thing else. ." It is to this day remembered," says 3Iaxweli, bishop of li'oss, in the Burden of Issachar, printed 1G46, " that when Master Bobert Bruce came from his visitation in the east, returning to Edinburgh, and entering by the Canongate, king James, looking out at his win- dow in the palace of Holyroodhouse, with indignation (which extorted from him an oath ), said, ' Master Robert Bruce, I am sure, intends to be king, and declare himself heir to king Robert de Bruce.' At another time, wishing to recall the three banished lords, Angus, Huntly, and Errol, James attempted to gain the consent of Master Robert, who possessed more power in Edinburgh, through his connnand of consciences, than the sovereign himself. Being ushered into the king's bed-chamber, James opened unto him his views upon the English crown, and his fears lest the Papists in Scotland, of whom these lords were the chief, should contrive to join with their brethren in England, and raise obstacles to his succession. He continued, ' Do you not think it fit, Master Robert, that I give them a pardon, restore them to their honour and lands, and by doing so gain them, that thus I may save the e!iusion of Christian blood ?' To this demand, so piously made, the answer was, ' Sir, you may pardon Angus and Errol, and recall them ; but it is not fit, nor will you ever obtain my consent to pardon or recall Huntly.' To this the most gracious king sweetly replied, ' Master Robert, it were better for me to pardon and recall him without the other two, than the other two \vithout him: first, because you know he hath a greater connnand, and is more powerful than the other two ; secondly, you know I am more assured of iiii afVection to me, for hj; hath married my near and dear kinswoman, the Duke of Lennox liis sister.' His rejoinder was, ' Sir, I cannot agree to it.' The king desiring him to consider it, dismissed him ; but when sent for once more, Mr Robert still continued inexorable : ' I agree with all my heart,' said he, ' that you recall Angus and I'^rrol ; but for Huntly it cannot be.' The king resumed, and re[>eated his reasons l)efore mentioned, and added some more; but he obstinately opposed and conti-adictud i(. * * * King James desired his reasons; he gave none, but spoke majestically. Then the king told liim down- right, ' Master Robert, I have told you my purpose ; you see how nearly it con- ccrneth me ; I have given you my reasons for my resolutions; you give me your IIOBEIIL" BRUCE. 387 opinion, but you strengllien it not with reasons, 'llieretore, I will liold my resolution, and do as I first spoke to you.' To wliicli, willi Christian and sub- ject-like revorcnce, ISruce returned this I'eply, ' Well, Sir, you may di» as you list; but cho(,se yon, you siiall not have me and the iiarl of llunlly b, ih for you.' " 'Huxigh this tale is told l)y an eiiemy, it bears too many cliaracteristio marks to be altogether false ; and certainly it presents a most expressive picture of the comparative importance of the leader of the Scottish cliurch and the leader of tlie Scottish state. Maxwell insinuates interested and unworthy mctives for Bruce's conduct on this occasion ; but the whole tenor of the man's life dis> proves their reality. There can be no doubt that he was actuated solely by a fear for the ertect which Iluutly's great territorial influence might have upon the Scottisli church. To sho\v that his conduct on this occasion was by no means of au uncommon kind, we may relate another anecdote. On the Glh of June^ 1592, the king came to the Little Kirk, to hear Bruce's sermon. In his dis- course, Bruce moved the question, " What could the great disobedience of the land mean now, while the king was present ? seeing some reverence was borne to his shadow while absent.'' To this he himself answered, that it was the uni- versal contempt of hin subjects. He therefore exhorted the king " to call to (■od, before he either ate or drank, that the Lord would give him a res(dution to ex(.'cute justice on malefactois, although it should be with the hazard of his life : which, if he would enterprise courageously, the Lord \vould raise enough to assist, and all his impediments would vanish away. Otherwise," said he, in conclusion, '' you will not be sutlered to enjoy your crown alone, but every man will liave one.'' When we find the king obliged to submit to such rebukes as this before his subjects, can \ve wonder at h^s finding it a difficult task to exact obedience from those subjects, either to himself or the laws. The extraordinary power of the Scottish church came at length to a period. During a violent contention between the church and court in ISUli, the parlizans of the former were beti'ayed by their zeal into a kind of riot, which was con- stiued by the king into an attack upon his person. The re-action occasioned by this event, and the increased power which he now possessed in virtue of his near approach to the English throne, enabled him to take full advantage of their imprudence, in imposing certain restrictions upon the ciiunih, of an episcopal tendency. Bruce, who preached the sermon which preceded the riot, found it necessary, though not otherwise concerned, to fly to England. He did m t procure permission to return for some months, and even then he was not billowed to resume his functions as a parish minister. For some time, he officiated pri- vately in the houses of his friends. Nor was it till after a long course of dis- agreeable contentions with the court, that he was received back into one of tiia parochial pulpits of Edinburgh. This was but the beginning of a series of troubles which descended upon the latter half of Bruce's life. In August, 1(300, the king met with the strange adventure known by the name of the (jowrie Conspiracy. AVhen he afterwanls requested the ministers of Edinburgh to give an account of this atiair to their congTegations, and offer up thanks for his deliverance, Bruce happened to be one of a considerable party who could not bring themselves to believe that James had been conspired against by the two young Kuthvens, but rather were of opin- ion that the whole affair was a conspiracy of his own to rid himself of two men wliom he had reason to hate. A strange incoherent notion as to the attacii- ment of these young men to the presbyterian system, and the passion which one of tliem had entertained for the queen, took possession of this party, iliough there is not the slightest evidence to support either proposition. To king James, who was full of his wonderful deliverance, this scepticism was exceeding! \ 338 ROBERT BRUCE. annoying, iVir more reasons tli:;n one ; and acconliiigly it was not surprising thai lie should have been disposed to lake tlie sharpest measures willi a recusant of so much popular inlluence .is Bru«:e. " Ye have heard me, ye have heard my minister, ye have heard my council, ye have hoard the Earl of 31ar,'' exclaimed tlie enraged monarch; yet all would i.ot do. Ihe chancellor then pronounced a sentence dictated by the council, prohibiting Bruce and three of hi^ bret!u-en to preach in the kingdom under pain of death. Bruce was not the man to be daunted or driven from his purpose when tlie liberties of his chureh and the maintenance of a good cotiscieuce were concerned. " He had made up liis mind to withstand, at all hazards, the now undisguised machinations of his infatuated monarch to crush the Presbyterian cause. In 1596, when the privy council was prosecuting David Black, minister of St. Andrew's, for certain expressions he had uttered in the pulpit, Bruce headed a deputa- tion of ministers to the king, to endeavour to bring about an accommodation. He declared with solemn earnestness, on behalf of himself and his associates, " that if the matter concerned only the life of Mr Black, or that of a dozen others, they would have thought it of comparatively trifling importance ; but as it was the liberty of the gospel, and the spiritual sovereignty of the Lord Jesus that was ai^sailed, they could not submit, but must oppose all such proceedings, to the extreme hazard of their lives." This declaration moved the king at the time, and wrung tears from his eyes ; but the relentings of his better nature were soon overcome by his courtiers. He was but too anxious to get 60 formidable an opponent as Bruce out of the way, and the present occasion afforded him a favourable opportunity. Bruce, after spending some time as a prisoner in Airth, his paternal seat, embarked at Queensferry on the 5th of November IGOO, for Dieppe in Normandy, which he reached in five days. Next year he was allowed to return to his native country, although not to reside in Edinburgh. He had two interviews with James, one of them at the very moment when his majesty mounted horse on his journey to England. But tho minions of the court and friends of the episcopal religion contrived to prevent his offers of submission from having their due weight. He was formally deposed in 1605, and sent to Inverness, which was then a frequent place of banishment for obnoxious clergymen. There he remained for eight years, only exercising his gifts in a private way, but still with the best etlect upon the rude people who heard him. In 1613, his son procured permission for his return to Kinnaird, rpon the condition that he would confine himself to that place. There, however, he soon found himself very painfully situated, on account of the comparati\ely dissolute manners of the neighbouring clergy, who are said to have persecuted iiini in return for the freedom he used in censuring their behaviour. He obtain- ed leave from tiie Privy Council to retire to a more sequestered house at Monk- land, near Bothwell, where, however, he soon attracted the notice of the Bishop of Glasgow, on account of the crowds which flocked to hear him. He was obliged to return to Kiiuiaird. In 1()21, the Jr^cottish parliament was about to pass the famed articles of Perth, in order to bring back something like form to ilie national system of worship. Bruce could not restrain his curiosity to witness [his awful infliction upon the church ; he took advantage of some pressing piece of private business to come to Edinburgh. The bishops watched the motions of their powertul enemy witli vigilance, and he was soon observed. They entered A petition and complaint before the Council, and he uas committed to Edinburgh jaslle for several months, after which he w s again banished to Inverness. Some of the lords of the council, who were his friends, wrote to court, in order to have the place of confinement fixed at his family seat ; but James had heai-d of the elfcct of his preachings at that place, and returned for answer, — ' It is not ROBERT BRUCE. 380 for the love of Lim that ye have written, but to entertain a schism in the kirU ; we will have no more popish pilgrimages to Kiunaird (in allubion to lliu frequent intercourse between Bruce and the pious people of the surrounding country); he shall go to luvcrnoss.' Tiic King never forgave his scepticism of the Gowrio conspiracy, although this was tiie occasion ratlier than the cause of the persecution which tracked him in his latter years. He remained at Inverness till the death of James in 1625, when he obtained permission once more to reside at his own liouse. He was even allowed, for sometime after tliis, to preach in several of iho parish churches around Edinburgh, whitlier large crowds flocked to hear him. At length, in 1G29, Charles wrote to the Council, requesting that he might again be confined to Kiunaird, or the space of two miles around it. The church of Larbert having been neglected by the bishops, and left in ruins without either minister or stipend, he had repaired it at his own expense, and now finding it within tlie limits of his confinement, he preached there every Sunday to a nume- rous and eager audience. At one of his sermons, either in that church or in the neighbourhood, he gained a proselyte who vindicated his cause, and that of Pres- byterians in general, a few years after. Tliis was the celebrated Alexander Henderson, minister at Leuchars, in Fife, whom he was the means of converting, by preaching from the first verse of the tenth chapter of St John's Gospel. Bruce had now lived to see the Scottish Presbyterian Church altered for an im- perfect Episcopacy, and as he prepared for the fate which threescoi-e and ten years had long marked out for him, he must have felt convinced that what remained of his favourite system could not long survive him. The revival of the Presbyterian polity, in all its pristine glory, was reserved in its proper time for hb pupil Hen- derson. Exhausted with the infirmities of age, he was for some time almost con- fined to his chamber; yet, as he laboured under no active disease, his end advanced slowly. On the 13th of August, 1631, having breakfasted with his family, in the usual manner, he felt death approaching-, and warned his children that his Master called him. With these words, he desired a Bible to be brought, and finding that his sight was gone, he requested his daughter to place his hand on the two last vei'ses of the Epistle to the Romans. These were highly expressive of his life. Lis resolution, and his hopes. When his hand was fixed on the words, he re- mained for a few moments satisfied and silent. He had only strength to add, 180 1 oTo'Jsf f =103^^ , the exact number of cubic inches, and parts of a cubic inch, in the standard Scotch pint : 51^°^ cubic inches in the chopin : 25j,',- cubic inches in the mutchkin ; and so on, proportionally, in the other smaller Scotch measures. Mr Bryce next applied the Standard jug to fix the legal size of the different measures for grain ; which he compared with some of the Knglish dry measures. By act of parliament, 19 February, 1(5 18, formerly mentioned, it is ordained, that the w/ieat and pease fir lot- sh:i\l contain 21 ^ pints; and the bear and oat ftrlot 31 pints of the iust Stirling iug. Therefore, since there are 103^^ cubic inches in the standard Scotch pint, there will be 2197"^- cubic inches in the wheat and pease firlot; 549^^ in the peck; and 137j^^g in the lip. pie — in the bean and oat firlot, 3205^^^^, cubic inches; 801^?— in the peck; and 200^~g in the lippie. The excess of a boll of bear above a boll of wheat was found to he precisely 5 pecks bear measure, and 1 mutchkin, without the difference of a single gill: or, a boll of bear is more than a boll of wheat, by . 7 pecks I ^ lippie, wheat measure, wanting 1 gill. The Englisli corn bushel contains 2178 cubic inches, which is less than the Scotch wheat firlot, by 19.335 inches, or three gills; so that 7 firlots of wheat will make 7 English bushels and 1 lipjiie. The English corn bushel is less than the barley firlot, by 1 peck, 3^ lippies nearly. The legal English bushel, by which gangers are ordered to make their re- turns of malt, contains 2150.42 cubic inches, which is less than the wheat firlot, 4().9I5 cubic inches, or 1 chopin, wanting ^ gill; and less than the bear firlot by 1055.104 cubic inches, or 2 bear pecks, wanting 7 gills. A Scotch barley boll contains 5 bushels, 3 pecks, 2 lippies, and a little more, according to the Winchester gallon. A Scotch barley boll, according to the legal measure, contains 6 bushels, wanting a little more than i lippie. A Scotch chalder, (16 bolls of barley,) is equal to 1 I quarters, 6 bushels, and 3 lippies, Winchester measure. A Scotch chalder of wheat is equal to 8 quarters, 2 pecks, and 1 lippie, Winchester measure. A wheat firlot made according to the dimensions mentioned in the Scotch act of parliament, 1618, viz., 19^ inches diameter, at top and bottom, and 7-j inches in height, Scotch measure, would be less than the true wheat firlot, (or 21^ pints of the Standard jug) by a Scotch chopin : a chalder of wheat measured with this firlot would fall short of the true quantity, 1 firlot, 2 pecks, or nearly 2;^ per cent. A barley firlot made according to tlie dimensions in the said a<;t, viz., having the same diameter at top and bottom as the wheat firlot, and 10 i inches in height, Scotch measure, would be less than the true firlot, (or 31 pints of the Standard jug) by 5 iiiut(;hkins : and a chalder of bear, measured with such a 396 ALEXANDER BRYCE. lirlot, would fall slwtrt of llie just quantity, 2 firlots, 2 pecks, and nearly 2 lippies, or 4 per cent. These very reuiarkalile inislakes must have pio<;eeded from the ignorance or inaccuracy of llie persons authorized by parliament to make the calculations, and to determine the exa<;t dimensions of llie firlot measure. I'or suppose a firlot were mado of the following dimensions, viz., '20 inches diameter, English measure, at top and bottom, and 7 inches in depth, it would contain 21/; pints (the true uheat and pease firlot) and only i of a gill more. A firlol of the same diameter as above, at top and bottom, and 10.{ inches in depth, would contain 'Jl pints (the true bear and oat firlol) and only 2 gills more: but if, instead of 10|, ii be made 10| inches in depth, it will be less llian 31 pints, (the true Standard measure) only J of a single gill. Ijy the greater of these firlots were to be measured bear, oats, and malt ; by the less wheat, rye, beans, pease, and salt. According to the act of parliament in IG 1 8, to which reference has been made, the Scotch pint contains of the clear running water of Leith three pounds and seven ounces, French troy weight, and this is ordained to be the weight of Scotland; therefore, in the Scotch pound there are 7G16 troy grains ; and in the Scotch ounce 47G troy grains ; and so on proportionally, with regard to the other Scotch weights. In this way, by the recovery of the standard Stirling pint jug, canons of easy application resulted, for determining the just quantity of the measures, liquid and dry, and also of tlie weiglits in Scotland, and therefore of great public utility, by settling disputes and preventing litigation in that part of the empire. After liaving obtained the above results by means of the Standard jug, i\ji I'ryce superintended, at the desire of the magistrates of Edinburgh, the ad- justment of the weights and measures, kept by the dean of Guild ; and "for his good services to the citr/.'''' was made a burgess and Guild brother iu January, 1751. Several detached memoirs by IMr 13ryce were published by the Koyal Society of London ; particularly " An account of a Comet observed by him in 1766 ;" " A new method of measuring the Velocity of the Wind;" " An Experiment to ascertain to what quantity of Water a fall of Snow on the Earth's surface is tsqual." His observations on the transits of Venus, firfi June, 1761, and 3rd June, r/GSJ, were considered by astronomers as important, in solving the grand problem. In May, 1767, he was consulted by the trustees for procuring surveys of tVie lines proposed for the canal between the Forth and (Jlyde, and received their thanks for his remarks, afterwards connnunicated to them in writing, on Mr Smeaton's first printed report. About this time, he was introduced to Stuart Mackenzie, lord privy seal of Scotland, who, as a lover of the arts and sciences, highly respecting his genius and a<;quirenients, obtained for him soon after, the otHce of one of his majesty's chaplains in ordinary; and, during the remainder of his life, honoured him with his friendship and patronage. He planned for that gentleman the elegant observatory at Belmont castle, where also are still to be seen, an instrument contrived by him for ascertaining ihe magnil'ying powers of telescopes, and a horizontal marble dial, made with great precision, to indicate the hour, the minute, a)immonly used for that purpose, and the means by wiiidi it might be rendered more perfect, and greater precision nttai::e(l. These remarks were sent to h)rd privy seal in January, 1773. In a map of the Three Lothians engraved by Kitchen of London, and publislied in 1773, by Andrew and Mostyn Armstrong, " tlie scales of Loni^itude and Latitude are laid down agreeably to tlie observations of the Kev. 3Ir Bryce at Kirknewton manse." In April, 1774, in consecpience of certain apparently insurmountable difficulties, he was consulted by the magis- trates of Stirling on the subject of supplying the town with water : these dif- (iculties he removed, by taking accurately all the difierent levels; making the calculations for the size of the leaden pipes and the reservoir, and fixing the situation for its being placed. For this service he had the freedom of the town conferred on him. In 177G, he made all the requisite calculations for an epitome of the solar system on a large scale, afterwards erected by the tarl of Buchan at his seat at Kirkhill. In case of disputes about the extent of fields exchanged by neighbouring proprietors, or the line of their marches, he was generally chosen sole arbiter, and from his knowledge in land survey- ing, and the confidence reposed in him, had it often in his power to render them essential service. Mr Bryce used to send various meteorological observa- tions and other detached notices to Kuddimnn's Weekly Magazine. From the time of his ordination in 1745, till his death on the 1st January, 1786, lie discharged with great fidelity, all the duties of his pastoral office; and excelled particularly in that species of didactic discourse known in Scot- land, under the name of lecture. His lectures, however, were never fully written, but spoken from notes; and he left no sermons for publication. In early life he composed several songs, adapted to some of the most favourite Scottish airs, and his stanzas, in " The Birks of Invermay," have been long before the world. For about three years before his death, his greatest amusement was in writing poetry, chiefly of a serious and devotional cast; which, though not composed for the public eye, is read with satisfaction by his friends, and valued by them as an additional proof of his genius, and a tran- .s(;ript of that enlightened piety, uprightness of mind, and unshaken trust in hia Creator, which characterized him through the whole of life. iiilYDONE, Patrick, F. R. S., the weU known author of A Tour in Sicily and IMalta, one of the most entertaining works in the language, was the son of a <;lergyanan in the neighboui'hood of Dumbarton, and born in 1741. Having received an excellent univei-sity education, which qualified him for the duties of a travelling preceptor, he was engaged in tliat capacity, first by IMr Beckford, of Somerly in Suffolk, and afterwards Mr F'ullarton, who was known in after life as conunander of a large body of troops in India, and finally as one of the three coraniissionei's for the government of Trinidad. His excmrsion ^\ith the foniier gentleman took place in 17G7-8; the latter in 1770. In the second tour, he visited Sicily and Malta, wliich were then almost unkno^Ti to the English. Having ^mtten an account of this journey in a series of letters to Mr Beckford, he was induced by a consideration of the uninformed state of the British pidilic upon this subject, to publish his work in 1773, under the title of " A Toiu- through Sicily and Malta." This work is not only a most original and amusing nan'ative, but it contains a gi'eat deal of scientific knowledge, especially regarding the temperature of the air, wliicli was the object of 3Ir Brydone's particulai- study. For the purpose of can'ying on his scientific obser- vations, he travelled with an appai'atus as perfect as could then be procured, or as it was possible to cax-ry in the luggage of a traveller. Having returned to 598 ELSriTH BUCFTAN. England in 1771, lie obtained a rospectablo appointment under govei nicent, and after the publiration of liis travels, which procured for him no common share of reputation and respect, was nominated a member of several learned societies, particularly of the Koyal Society, London. In the transactions of this learned body, are several papers of 3Ir Erydone, chiefly on the subject of electricity, of which he was a profound student, and a close and anxious observer. He spent the latter part of his life in retirement, at Lennel House, near Cold- stream, where he was visited by the most distinguished persons in literature and public life. The .author of jMannion has introduced into that work, the follow- ing- episode respecting Mr Brydone : — " Where Leimel's convent closed their march: There now is left but one frail arch, Yet mourn thou not its cells ; Our time a fair exchange has made; Hard by, in hospitable shade, A reverend pilgrim dwells. Well worth the whole Bernardine brood, That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood;" Patrick Brydone died at Lennel in 1818, at an advanced age. BIJCHAN, Elspith, the leader of a small sect of fanatics, now extinct, was the daughter of John Simpson, who kept an inn at Fitney-Can, the half Avay house between Banff and Portsoy. She was born in 1738, and educated in the Scottish Episcopal connnunion. Ha.ving been sent when a girl to Glasgow, in order to enter into a life of service, sho married Robert Buchan, a workman in the pottery belonging to her master, witn whom she lived for several years, and had several children. Having changed her original profession of faith for that of her husband, who was a burgher-seceder, her mind seems to have become per- plexed with religious fancies, as is too often the case with those who alter their creed. She fell into a habit of interpreting the Scriptures literally, and began to promulgate certain strange doctrines, which she derived in this manner from holy writ Having now removed to Irvine, she drew over to her OAvn way of thinking, Mr Hugli Whyte, a Relief clergyman, who consequently abdicated his charge, and became her chief apostle. The sect was joined by persons of a rank of life in which no such susceptibility was to be expected. Mr Hunter, a writer, and several trading people in good circumstances, were among the con- verts. After having indulged their absurd fancies for several years at Irvine, the mass of the people at length rose in April, 1784, and assembled in a threaten- ing and tumultuous manner around Mr Whyte's house, which had become the tabernacle of the new religion, and of whic!-» they broke all the windows. The Buchanites felt this insult so keenly, that they left the town to the number of forty-six persons, and, proceeding through Mauchline, Cumnock, Sanquhar, and Thornbill, did not halt till they arrived at a farudiouse, two miles south from the latter place, and thirteen from Dumfries, Avhere they hired the out-houses for their habitation, in the hope of being permitted, in that lonely scene, to exercise their religion without further molestation. Mi-s Buchan continued to be the "Teat mistress of the ceremonies, and Mr Whyte to be the chief officiating priest. They possessed considerable property, which all enjoyed alike, and though several men were accompanied by their wives, all the responsibilities of the married state were given up. Some of them wrought gi-atuitously at their trades, tor the bene- fit of those who employed them ; but they professed only to consent to this, in order that they might have opportunities of bringing over others to their own views. They scrupulously abjured all worldly considerations whatsoever wishing only to lead a quiet and holy life, till the conmiencement of the Millennium, or ELSPITH BUCHAN, 399 tiie day of judgment, wliicli they believed to be at hand. Ubsei-ving-, tliey said how the young ravens are led, and iiovv the lilies grow, we assui-e oui-selves tliat God will leed and clothe us. I\Irs Buchan, who was said to have given herself out to be tlie Virgin Mary, at first denied that she was so. Instead of being the mother of Clu-ist, she said, after the flesh, she was his daughter after the spirit. The little republic existed for some time, without any thing occurring to mar their liappiness, except the occasional rudeness of unbelieving neighbours. At length, as hope sickened, worldly feelings appear to liave returned upon some of tlie mem- bers ; and, notwithstanding all the elibi-ts which 31rs J3uchan could make to keep her flock together, a few returned to Irvine. It would seem tliat as the faith of her followers declined, she greatly increased the extravagance of her pretensions, and the rigour of her discipline. It is said that when any person was suspected of an intention to leave tlie society, she ordered him to be locked up, and ducked eve: y daj^ in cold Avater, so that it required some little addi-ess in any one to get out of her clutches. In the year I78(i, the following fads were reported by some of the seceding members on their return to the west. " The distribution of provisions she kept in her own hand, and took special care that they should not pamper their bodies with too much food, and every one behoved to be en- tirely directed by her. The society being once scarce of money, she told them she had a revelation, informing her they should have a supply of cash from hea- ven : accordingly, she took one of the members out with her, and caused him to hold two comers of a sheet, while she held ihe other two. Having continued for a considerable time, without any shower of money falling upon it, the man at last tired, and left IMrs Buchan to hold the sheet herselfi IMrs Buchan, in a short time after, came in with £5 sterling, and upbraided the man for his unbe- lief, which she said was the only cause that prevented it from coming sooner. Tilany of the members, however, easily accounted for this pretended miracle, and shrewdly suspected that the money came from her own hoard. That she had a considerable pui-se Avas not to be doubted, for she fell on many ways to rob the members of evei-y thing they had of value. Among other things, she informed them one evening, that they were all to ascend to heaven next morning ; there- fore it was only necessary they should lay aside all their vanities and ornaments, ordering them, at the same time, to throw their rings, watches, &c. into the ash- hole, Avhich many were foolish enough to do, while others more prudently hid every thing of this kind that belonged to them. Next luorning she took out all the people to take their flight. After they had waited till they were tired, not one of them found themselves any lighter than they were the day before, but remained with as firm a footing on earth as ever. She again blamed their un- belief— said that want of faith alone prevented their ascension ; and complained of the hardship she was under, in baing obliged, on account of their unbelief, to continue with them in this world. She at last fell upon an expedient to make them light enough tc ascend : nothing less was found requisite than to fast for forty days and forty nights. The experiment was innuediately put in practice, and several found themselves at death's door in a very short time. She was then obliged to allow them some :r)irits and water ; but many resolved no longer to submit to such regimen, and went oiT altogether. We know not,'' thus concludes the statement, " if the foi'ty days be ended ; but a few experiments of this kind will leave her, in the end, sole propx'ietor of the society's funds." What adds to the curiosity of this strange tale of fanaticism, is, that 3Irs Buchan's husband was still living in pursuit of his ordinary trade, and a faithful adherent of the burgher-seceders. One of her children, a boy of twelve or foui-teen, lived with the fatlier ; two girls of more advanced age were among her ■vwn followers. Notwithstanding her increased absurdity, and we may add, the oQ 400 WILLIAM BUCIIAN, M.D. increased tyriinny of her beluiviour, slie contiiiiiod to have a few f()llo\vers in 17 01, wlieii she approaclieii her last scene. Among these wiis her first apostle, 3Ir Wliyte. Finding- that she was about to go the way of all the earth, she called her disciples together, and exhorted them to continue steadfast and unani- mous in their adherence to the doctrine which they had received from her. She told them she had one secret to communicate — a last desperate eH'ort at imposi- tion— that she was in reality the Virgin 31ary, and mother of oiu* Lord ; that she was the same woman mentioned in the Revelations as being clothed with the sun, anl'eter. whom he soon after married. He continued to be I'hysician to the Ackworth Foundling Hospital, till parliament, becoming con- vinced of the i)ad ed'ects of such an institution, withdrew the annual grant of sixty thousand pounds, upon which it haeople ^»hat is in their o«-n power, both with respect to the prevention and cure of diseases : chiedy calculated to recommend a proper attention to regimen and simple iuedicines." This work, which had been ni ich indebted, in respect of its composition, to the in?enio'.;s William Smellie. ^ras published by Balrour, nn emi- nent bookseller at Edinburgh, at the price of six shillings : and such was iu success, that " the first edition." says the a-Jthor, " of 5000 copies, was entirely sold o!f in a comer of Britain, before another coidd be got ready.'' The se- cond edition appeared in 177-2, -with considerable additions." The Domestic 3Iedicine is constructed on a plan similar to that adopted by Ti^ot in his Avig au Peuple. It appealed to the Avants and wishes of so larje a class of the com- munity, that, considering it to have been the first work of the kind published in Britain, there is no wonder that it shou d hare attained such success. Before the death of the author in ISOo, nineteen largo editions had b<»en sold, bv which the publishers were supposed to re.ilise annually about £700, beinsr exarilv the sura which they are siid to have given at first for the copjTight. The learned Du- planil of Paris, Physician to the Count d'-\rtois [ Charles X. ], publislied an ele- gant translation in five volumes, with some excellent notes, which rendered the work so popular on the Continent, that in a short time no lanifuasre iu Christen- dom, not even the Russian, wanted its n-ansbtion. It would almost appear that the work met with more undivided applause on the Continent than in Britain. \\ hile many English and Scottish physicians conceived that it was as apt to gene- rate as to cure or prevent diseases, by inspiring the minds of readers with hv- pochondriacal notions, those of other countries entertained no such suspicions. .\mong the testimonies of approbation which Dr Buchan received from abroad, was a huge gold medallion, sent by the Empress Catherine of Russia, with a complimentary letter. The work is said to h.ive become more popular in Ame- rica and the West Indies, than in the eld^r hemisphere. The reputation which the author thus acquired, induced liim to remove to London, where for many years he enjoyed a lucrative practice, though not so great as it misfht have been made by a more prudent man. It was his custom to resort daily to the Chapter Coifee-house, near St Paul's, where he partly spent his time in conversation with literary and eminent men, and partly in giving advice to patients, who here re- sorted to him in trreat numbers, exactly as if it had been his o^vn house. At one time, he delivered lectures on Natural Philosophy, which he illustrated by an excellent apparatus, the property of his deceased friend James Ferguson. And in this capacity he is said to have manifested as respectable abilities as in his character of a physician.^ Dr Buchan was a man of pleasing exterior, most agreeable nuinners, and Sfreat practical benevolence. He cherished no species of antipathy, except one against apothecaries, whom he believed to be a set of roorues, actuated by no principle except a wsh t > sell their own drusfs, at whatever hazard to their pa- tients. His conversation ^vas much courted on account of his lively spirits, and a fund of anecdote which seemed to be perfectly exiiaustless. He enjoyed a ^i^od constitution, -.vhich did not give way till the 25th of February, 1505, when \\i died in a moment, at his own house, while walking between his sofa and his bed- The disorder was water in the chest, which had been advancing upon him for some time, but was, up to the last moment, so little alarming, that immedi- ately before rising from tlie sofa, he had been talking in his usual manner. The 1 Two other wjrRs were published by the Doctor. 1. A Treatise on Gonorrhea: 2. An Advice to Mothers on the subject of tfieir own health, and on the means of promcting the health, strtj 15th, and beauty of their otiiprinj. Each iu one volume, 3vo. 402 DUGALD BUCHANAN. Doctor left a son and (lauwlUer — the foniier a man of respectable gifu, and a fellow of tiie London Koyal College of Physicians. His remains were interred in the cloisters of Westminster Abijey, next to those of the celebrated Jebb." BUCHANAN, Dug.vld, a lliifhland poet of eminent merit, was born, in the early part of the eighteenth centm-y, in tlie parish of Babpihidder, I'ertiishire. In early youth lie is said to have been of a dissolute ciiaracter ; but little is kno>vn of him till he was found keeping a small school in a hamlet of his native coun- try, and in possession of much local fame as a writer of devotional and pious verses. Some respectable persons, stni(;k by his talents, interested themselves in his fate, and obtained for him the superior situation of school-master and cate- chist at liannoch, on tlie establishment of the society for propagating- Christian knowledge. Wlien he lii-st went to reside in that remote district, the people were so rude, from the want of religious instruction, that they hardly recognised the sacred nature of the Sabbath. They were in the habit of meeting at ditler- ent places, on that day, to amuse themselves with foot-ball and other sports. The parish clergyman visited them once every three weeks ; but, from the ex- tent of the parish, he seems to have been unable to exercise any proper control over them. Buchanan, it is said, invited them all to come and enjoy their Sun- day recreations with him, and when they arrived, began to perform divine wor- ship, which he seasoned with a lecture on the sin of Sabbath-breaking. Though many were disgusted at first, all of them became at length convinced of their error, and Buchanan in time brought them into a state of high religious culture, the ellects of which are said to be visible at this day in liannoch. The educa- tion of this poor scholar was not of the best order ; yet he was acquainted with divinity, natural philosophy, and history, and possessed a most felicitous gift of poetry, whicii he almost exclusively employed for sacred purposes. His writings, which are unknown to English readers, and never can be adequately translated, resemble those of Cowper. An effort was made to obtain for him a license lacc for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, 2 The following somewhat ungracious anecdote, wliich appears in the obituary notice of Dr Uuclian, in the Gentleman's Magazine, must have been contributed, we suspect, by a pro- fessional hand : — " A day or two after his decease, one gentleman said to another, ' The poor DoctorVgone!' The other replied, ' Do you know how Onuiium is to-day?' A third, ask- ing, ' Which would be most felt. Omnium or the loss of the Doctor?' was answered, ' Om- nium would be felt by avery body, on account of the taxes laid on to pay the interest of the loan ; whereas the loss of the Doctor would not be generally felt." "' CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN, D.IX 403 stand before God ; and the books were opened : and another book was opened, \vhi(!h was the book of life : — And the sea gave up the dead Avhicli were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead ^vhich Mere in them : and they were judged every man according- to their works." Buchanan was very tender- hearted, insomuch, that when he heard a pathetic tale recounted, he could not abstain from weeping. lie was equally subject to shed tears Mhen liis bosom was excited ^vith joy, gratitude, and admiration. In his (conversation, he was modest, mild, and unassuming, and distinguished by great affability ; always the best and truest marks of a man of poetical genius. His poems and hymns, which have been repeatedly printed, are allowed to be equal to any in the (Jaclic lan- guage for style, matter, and harmony of versification. The pieces entitled " La a' Bhreitheanais '' and " an Claigionn '' are the most celebrated, and are read with perfect enthusiasm by all Highlanders. Though the circumstances of this ingenious poet were of the humblest description, he was most religiously cheerful and contented under his lot. He died, on the 2nd of July, 1768, under very painful circumstances. On returning home from a long journey, he found two of his children lying sick of a fever. Shortly after, six more of them were seized by it, together with himself and two of his servants. While his family lay in this sad condition, his wife could prevail upon no one to engage in her service, and being herself in a peculiarly delicate condition, she was unable to do mudi for their coniforL The poor poet soon became delirious, and, in a few davs, he and all his family were swejt off, leaving only his ^^ife to lament his fate, and her own melancholy condition.' BUCHANAN, Claudius, D. D. Few persons have engaged with greater zeal, or met with greater success, in the business of the civilization of India, in spreading the knowledge of the Christian Religion through the eastern Morld, and in mak- ing Europeans better acquainted with that interesting country, than the liev. Dr Bu(;hanan, who was born at Cambuslang, on the 12th fllarch, 17G6. His father, Alexander Buchanan, followed the honourable profession of a school-master ; and if we may judge from his success in life, he appears to have been a man of some abilities, and belter qualiiied than ordinary teachers for the discharge of the peculiar duties of his office. Before his death, he was Kector of the (jranmiar School of Falkirk. His mother's name was Somers, daughter of Mr Claudius Somers, Avho was an elder in the parish of Cambuslang. He is repre- sented as having been one of those wlio received their first impressions of reli- gion under the ministry of the l?ev. I\Ir M'Culloch, the parish minister, and which were confirmed afterwards by the celebrated IMr George Whitfield. A certain class of Scottish dissenters publicly declared, that all such impressions were a delusion of the devil, and in the most abusive language reviled Whitfield, and all who defended his cause. But be this as it may, Mr Somers and a good many others became reformed characters ; and dui-ing the course of a long life, gave undeniable evidence that they Avere better moral men and better members of society. In 1773, Dr Buchanan was sent to Inverary, in the shire of Argyle, wliere he remained under the care of his father's relations till 177!). He was early sent to school; and besides being taught to read English, to write, and cast accounts, he was initiated into a knowledge of Latin. AVhen only fourteen years of age, he was engaged to be tutor to the two sons of Campbell of Dunstaffnage. It i.> by no means an uncommon case in Scotland for young men to be emj)Ioyed, at that tender age, as domestic tutors in remote parts of the country, and at a dis- 1 For the greater part of the information contained in this article I am indebted to " liibli- otlieca Scoto-Celtica, an Account of all the Books wliicii have l)een])rinled in the Gaelic L;ui- guage. By Jolui Heid." Glasgo\»-, 1832. 40-1 CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN, D.D. taiioe i'roiu any scliool. He continued in this situation for two years, and then repaired to the university of Glasgow, in 17b2. Here his funds penuitted him to remain only for two sessions. In 1781, he went to the island of Islay, and was tutor in tiie family of Mr Campbell of Kn(x;kraelly. In the followinnj yeai lie removed to Carradell, in Kintyre, as tutor to Mr Campbell of Cnn-adell. In 1786 he returned to Gliisgow College, with the intention of prosecuting liis stu- dies there, j>reparatory to his commencing the study of divinity ; for it had al- ways been his intention to be a clergyman of the Church of Scotland. At the end of tlie session, liowever, he was struck with the strange and romantic idea of making a tour of luirope on foot. He seems to have been highly delighted witii Dr (ioidsmith's poetry, and particularly with his Traveller. Having ]>ei'used some accounts of Goldsmith's adventures, he became inspired with a wish to at- tempt samething of tiie same kind. He could not, like the poet of Auburn, play on the flute, but he was a tolerable performer on the liddie, and he foolishly ima- gined, that with its assistance, he might be able to accomplish what he had so much at heart. He was a pretty good player of Scotch reels ; and with this slender recommendation, and hardly any other provision against want, he deter- mined to sally forth. He accordingly left Edinburgh in the month of August, 1787. He had care- fully concealed his design from his parents, lest it should be the occasion of giving them pain, for he seems to have been well aware in wliat light liis impru- dence would be viewed by others. What road he took, or how long he was on liis journey between Edinburgh and Newcastle, is not known. But he arrived there, as it would seem, sufficiently disgusted with his undertaking ; for, instead of directing his course to the capital by land, he embarked in a collier at North Shields, and sailed for the metropolis, wliere he ax'rived on the 2d of September. Here he was as much, if not more at a loss, than ever. At last, seeing an ad- vertisement in a papor, that a clerk was wanted, after having suffered incredibly from hunger and cold, he applied and obtained this paltry appointment. By habits of industry and attention to business, he recommended himself to his em- ployer, and after various incidents he at last engaged in the service of a solicitor, \>ith A\honi he remained for nearly three years. This employment, though exceedingly trifling, w;is suflicient to supply hiui food and clothes. lie describes himsell", at this period, as having little or no sense of religion upon his mind. He did not attend church regularly; and tiie Sunday was generally spent in idleness, though at no time of his life was he given to habits of dissipation. About this time he got acquainted with the liev. John Newton of St Mary's, Woolnoth, London, the I'riend of Cowper, who intro- duced liim to the celebrated Henry Tliornton. This latter person, whose heart and fortune were alike bounteous, was the chief occasion of his being afterwards so successful and dislinguisInMl in life. As ]Mr Buchanan had now formed the resolution of becoming a clergyman, though he could not rogularly enter the church of England, for want of a university education, .Mr Thornton offered him the Chaplaincy of the Sierra Leone company, in which association he bore a leading part. The appointment was accepted by Mr Buchanan, but, for some unknown reason, was ncit acted upon. Mr Thornton, hotvever, generously re- solved not to leave his ward destitute or unprovided. He sent him to Queens' College, Cambridge, wiii<;h was then conducted by his i'riend Dr i\iilnor. Dean of Carlisle. Mr Hu'-hanan w;is admitted into this Society in 1791, and in the 25th year of his age. It has been mjutioned, that he was two sessions at the university of Glasgow, but it may be doubted whether this \uas of essential ser- vice to him, so dili'ercnt are the regulations, custom;, and habits of the two esta- blishments. l\c way rociu'ing a version of the Scriptui-cs into Malayaliiiu In Marcli, 1808, he undertoolt a voyage to Europe. Second prizes of L. 500 each were o/fered by him to Oxlbrd and Cambridge; and in pm*suiuice of his proposiijp, sermons uere preached at both univei-sities. In September, 1808, Dr ISuchanan undertook a journey into Scotland, where lie had the gratification of finding his mother in good health. He preached in the episcopal chapel at Glasgow, and mentions that the people came in crowds to he<'ir him, " notwithstanding the organ." He observed a more tolerant spirit among the different orders of religion in Scotland than what formerly pi'evailetL On his return, he preached, at Bristol, his celebrated sermon, " The Star in the J last," ^^hich wns the first of that series of able and ^veil-directed efibrts by which, in pursuance of a resolution formed in India, he endeavoured to cherish and extend the interest he had ali-eady excited for the promotion of Christianity in the e;ist. In spring, ISOi), he spent some d;iys at Oxford, collating oriental versions of the bible. He next paid a visit to Cambridge, v.here he deposited some valuable biblical manuscripts, which he had collected in India. The university honoured liim with the degree of D.D. About this period, he preach- ed regularly for some time in Wilbeck chapel, London, after which he retired to Kirby Hall, in Yorkshire, the seat of his father-in-law, Heni-j' Thompson, Esq. His health now began to decline, and as he was advised by his physicians to study less unremittingly, he formed the idea of uniting the recovei-y of his health, and some share of continued usefulness, by travelling to the Holy Land, and endeavouring to i-e-establish the gospel on its native gTound. This design, however, he never executed. Various pai-alytic affections, which, one after another, fell upon his frame, athnonished liim that the day of active exertion ^^it]l liim ^^as past. He >\as nevertheless able, Avithin the coui'se of a few years, to publish the following works: 1, Three Jubilee Sermons; 2, Annual JMis- sionary Sermon, before the Church Missionary Society, June 12, 1810; 3, Commencement Senuons at Cambridge ; 4, Christian Researches in Asia ; 5, Sketch of an Ecclesiastical Establishment for British India; 0, Colonial Eccle- siastical Establishment. He had been twice married, but survived both of his spouses. He ultimately \vcnt to reside at Cheshunt in Hertfordshire, to superintend a Syriac edition of the New Teilanient. Here he died, February 9, 1815, while his task was still incomjdete, at the early age of forty-eight. The exertions of this amiable and exemplary man in propagating the Christian religion in India, will long keep his name in grateful rcmend)i'ance, among all to v\hom the interests of religion are in the least endeared. BUCHANAN, I'rancis, M. D. author of Travels in the Mysore, a History of Nepal, &.C was born at Bran/iet, in Stirlingshire, February ] 5th, 17(i2. He was tlie third son of Dr Thomas Buchanan of Spital, who afterwards succeeded as heir of entail to the estate of Leney, in Ferthshire, and Elizabeth Hamilton heiress of Bardowie, near Glasgow. As a younger brother lie was, of course, destined to a profession. He chose that of his father ; and after the finishing the elementary parts of his cLissical education with considerable credit, at the firammar School of (jlasgow, he connuenced his medical studies at the university, where he remained till lie liad received his di])loma. Glasgow college has always enjoyed a high reputation for literature and ethics ; but, with the excep- tion, perhaps, of the department of anatomy, its fame, as a medical school, has FRANCIS BUCHANAN, M.D. 407 never equalled that of titlinbiirgh. During- the latter part of the eighteenth cen- tury especially, the capital enjoyed a reputation for medical science scarcely inferior to that of any medical school in liurope. Its degrees were eagerly desired by students troni all parts of (Sreat Britain, and from many parts of the continent, and its diploma was avaiUible in almost every part of the world as a powerful letter of recommendation. Buchanan was anxious to secure for him- self the advantage of pursuing his professional studies under the eminent pro- fessors, who, at that time, more tlian sustained the high reputation which Edin- burgh college had already acquired. Here he remained till he received his degi'ee in 1783. He soon after was appointed assistant-surgeon on board a man-of-war, a situation from which he was afterwards obliged to retire on account of ill health. He now spent some yeai-s at homo, in the country, his health being- so bad as to disqualify him for all active exertion, till 1794, when he received an appointment as surgeon in the East India Company's seiTire, on the Bengal establishment. The voyage to India completely restoi-ed his health, and on his arrival he was sent with Captain Symes on his mission to the court of Ava. In the course of his medical studies, Dr Buchanan had paid partir^dar attention to botany, and its cognate branches of natural science ; and during his present visit to the Birman Empire, he had an opportunity of making some valuable collections of the plants of Pegu, Ava, ar.d the Andaman Islands, which, toge- ther with several interesting drawings, he transmitted to the court of directors, by whom they were presented to Sir Joseph Banks. On his return from Ava, he was stationed at Luckipoor, near the mouth of the Bun-ampooter, where he renuiined two years, principally occupied in describing the fishes found in the neighbourhootb In 1798, he was employed by the board of ti-ade at Calcutta, on the recom- mendation of Dr Roxburgli, superintendant of the botanical garden, to visit the district of Chatigang and its neighbourhood, fonming the chief part of the an- cient kingdom of Tripura. The extensive and well-watered districts of India beyond the Ganges, afforded him a wide and rich field for pia-suing his favour- ite study. The numerous specimens wliich he collected in this interesting coun- try were also transmitted to Sir Joseph Baidts, and added to his collection. Part of the following year, Dr Buchanan spent in describing the fishes of the Ganges, of which he afterwards published an account. In 1800, he was employed by 3Iarquis Wellesley, then governor-general of India, to examine the state of the country which the company's forces had lately conquered from Tippoo Sultan, together with the province of 3Ialabar. The results of his inquiries in the Carnatic and 3Iysnre he afterwards, on his return to Engbind, in 1807, published under the patronage of the court of directors. This work, "Travels in the 3IysGre ," 8:c., extending to three Large quarto volumes, iUustrated with maps and drawings, contains much valuable infoi-mation concerning the agTiculture, L'i\\s, customs, religious sects, history, &:c., of India genei-ally, and particularly of the interior dependencies of 3Iadrr.s. In criticis- ing the work the Edinburgh reviewers observe, " Those who will take the trou- ble to peruse Dr Buchanan's book, will certainly obtain a far more accurate and correct notion of the actual condition and appearance of India, and of its exist- ing arts, usages, and manners, than could be derived from all the other books relating to it in existence." The reviewer adds still more valuable praise — a praise not ahvays deserved by traveUei-s in countries comparatively little known. — when he acknowledges that " every thing the author has seen is described perspicuously, unaffectedly, and, beyond all question, with the strictest veracity." Edinburgh Review, vol. xiii. (3cf. 1808. Soon after Dr l'.u<;hanan Iiad finished his survey of the 3Iysoro countr)-, he 408 FRANCIS BUCHANAN, M.T>. changed the scene of liis Liboui-s fi-om the smith to the north-east of Hiudoostan, being- appointed, in lb02, to a»xoinpany the embassy to Nepal, conducted by Captain Knox. In the course of tliis journey, and his subsequent residence in Nepal, he tnado large additions to his former coUcctions of rare plants ; which, with descriptions and numerous drawings, he transmitted to Mr J. E. Smith. It was during this poriod als ) that he collected the greater part of the materials tor liis " Histoj-y of Nepal," whicli he published in 1818, some years after he liad retired from the Company's service. On his return from ^^''pal he was ap- pointed surgeon to the governor-general, and he employed such leisure time as iie had for the study of natural history, in superintending the menagerie founded by the IMarquis ^\'ellesley, and in descinbing the animals which it contained. Of LordWellesleyDr liuchanan always spoke in terms of high admiration and devoted attachment ; he considered his government in India as being not less wise and beneficent, than it was eminently successful. Undoubtedly India owes much to this distinguished nobleman ; and it would have been happy, both for her native population, and her merchant princes, had her government been always intrusted to men of such pi-actical capacity and unblemished integi'ity. In 1805, Or Buchanan accompanied his noble patron to England ; and, in the following year, was again sent to India by the court of directors, for the purpose cf mak- ing a statistical survey of the territory under the presidency of Fort William, which compi'ehends Bengal Proper and several of the adjoining districts. With this laborious undertaking he was occupied for upwards of seven years, after which he returned to Ctalcutta ; and, on the death of Dr Roxburgh, in 1814, succeeded him as superintendant of the botanical garden, having been appointed successor to that respodable botanist by the Court of Directors so early as 1807. But he was now exhausted with long continued exertion : his senices had been liberally rewarded by the East India Company ; an independant and honourably acquired fortune relieved him from the necessity of encountering any longer the hardships incident to his fomtr-r mode of life, among tribes half-civilized, and often somewhat less than halwiiendly, and exposed to the malignant influence of Indian climate; and he naturally wished to enjoy the close of a busy life, free from the responsibility and inquietudes cf public service, in some peaceful retirement in his native land. While he was preparing for his voyage home, he was deprived, by the Mar- quis of Hastings, of all the botanical di-awings which had been made under his inspection, during his last stay in India, and which he intended to have deposited with his other collections in the library of the India house. 'Ihis circumstance he greatly regretted, as he feared that the dra>vings would thus be totally lost to llie pnl)lic. " To me," says Dr Buchanan, in a paper which was publislicd among the Transactions of the Koyal Society of Edinburgh, " to me, as an indi- vidual, they were of no value, as I prcsir^e no collection, and as 1 have no occa- sion to convert tliem into money." On his arrival in England in 1815, he presented to the com't of Directore, his t^oUection of plants and minerals, some papei-s on the geography of Ava, several genealogical tables, nine hundred Indian coins, gold and silver, a col- lection of Indian drugs, his notes ou Natural History, a few drawings, and about twenty curious i ii;doo 31SS. Ho then proceeded to Scotland, \\here he hoped to enjoy the friiils of his toll in quiet. On his arrival, he found his elder brother. Colonel iiamilton, involved in pecuniary diJhculties, from which he could only be partially relieved by the sale of such parts of the family estates cs had not been entailed. Dr Buchanan, who was himself next heir, Colonel Hamilton having no children, agreed to pay his brother's debts, which amounted altogether to upwards of £ 1 5,000. His brother soon after died abroad, whither FR.VNCIS BUCHANAN, M.P. iOi) lie liaupil, " taught logic, or, mire properly, the art of sophistry," in St Salvatoi-'s col- lege. Buchanan's eldest brother, Patrick, was matriculated at the same time. liavin«r continued one session at St Andrews, where he took the degree of Bachelor of Arts, on the 3d of October, 15-25, being then, as appeai-s fiom the college registers, a pauper or exhibitioner, he a<',e of in<>ratitude upon the poet, for an epigram which he wrote upon one of iMajor's productions, and in which his old instructor is termed " solo cogno- mine luajor." On returning to France, Buchanan became a student in the Scots college of Paris, and in Blarch was incorporated a bachelor of Arts — the degree of blaster of Arts he received in April, 1528. In June the following year he was elected procurator for the German nation, one of the four cksses, into which the stu- dents were divided, and which included those from Scotland. Tlie principles of the Reformation were hy this time widely extended on the continent, and every where excited the most eager discussion. Upon Buclianan's ardent and gen- erous mind they made a powerful impression, and it was not in his nature to con- ceal it Yet lie seems to have acted with considerable caution, and was in no haste to renounce the established forms of worship, whence we conclude that the reported morlitications he is said to have met with at this time and on that account, ;ue without foundation. At the end of two years he was elected a professor in the colleire of St Barbe, where he taught grammar three yeai-s ; and, if we may believe liimself, his remuneration was such as to render Ills circumstances at least comparatively comfortable. It appears to have been in 1529, that this office was confened upon him ; he was consequently only in his twenty-third year. Soon after entering on his professorship, Buchanan attracted the notice of Gilbert Kennedy, earl of Cassillis, then residing in Paris, whither he had been sent to prosecute his studies, as the Scottish nobility at that period generally were ; and at the end of three years Ikichanan was engaged to devote his time entirely to the care of the young Earl's education. With this nobleman he resided as a preceptor for five yeai-s ; and to him, as " a youth of promising talents and ex- cellent disposition," he inscribed his first published work, a translation of Lin- acre's rudiments of Latin grammar, which w;is printed by the learned Robert Stephens, in 1533. In 153G James V. made a matrimonial excui-sion to France, where he found the eai-1 of Cassillis, who had just finished his education. James having, on the 1st of Januarj-, 1537, married 3Iagdalene, diuighter of Francis L, returned to ScotLand in Blay, bringing ^vith him Cassillis and George Buchanan. This ac- counts for the future intimacy between the latter pei-son and the king, which in the end was like to have had a tragical teraiination. The connexion be- tween Buchanan and the earl seems, however, not to have been immediately dis- solved ; for it was while residing at the house of his ptipil, that the poet com- posed Somnium or the Dream, apparently an imitation of a poem of IKinbar's, 412 GEORGE BUCHANAN. entitled " How Dunbar wa^desyred to he ane frier," and a bitter satire upon the impudence and hNpocrisy ol iiie Franciscans. Tliis piece of raillery excited the utmost hostility on the part of its objects, and to avoid their ven»jeance, which he had every re;ison to di-ead, Buchanan liad detemuned to retire to Paris, where he hop^d to be able to resume his foniier situation in the college of St 13arbe. James V., however, took him under his protection, and retained him as pre- ceptor to his natural son James Stuart, not the prior of St Aiidiews, whose mo- ther was of the family of 31ar, but one of the same baptismal name who held the abbacies of 31elrose and Kelso, and whose mother was Elizabeth Schaw, of the family ofSaiichie, and who died in the year 154S. James, who about this time was not satisfied with the conduct of the clergy, in regard to a conspiracy against h.s life, said to have been entered into by some of the nobility, sent for Buclianan, and not awTire tliat he liad already rendered himself obnoxious to the Franciscans, conmiand- ed him to write a satire agiiir^t them. Wishing to gi-atify the king, and yet give as little additional ground of offence to the fi-iai-s as possible, Buchanan wTote his Falinodia in two parts, a covert satii-e, wliich he hoped might afford no ground of open complaint to those against whom it was directed. 'Hie king, himself a poet coarse and licentious, did not at all relish this delicate kind of irony, ai;d it wounded the ecclesiastics still more painfully than its predecessor the Somnium ; so tliat, as it usually happens in an attempt to please one party without offending the other, the poet's labour proved vain. Finding it impos- sible to propitiate the friars, and the king still insisting upon tlieii- vices being fully and fairly exposed, he at last gave full scope to his indignation at the im- puJeuce, iguorance, impiety, and sensuality that distinguished the whole order, ahuo^jt without an individual exception, iu his pociu entitled " Fraiiciscanus," one of the most pungent satu'es to be found in any hinguage. In tliis composition Buclianan Imd little occasion to exercise his fancy, facts were so abundant, lie had Lat to embody in flowing language, what was passing before all men's e\es, and depict the clergy as the most contemptible and the most depraved of human beings, who, besides being robbers of the poor, lived, the far greater part of them, in the open and avowed practice of the most loatlisome debauchery. Still they were the most powerful body in the state ; and after the death of 3iagdaleue;who liad been bred under her aunt, the queen of I'iavarre, a protestant, and was fiiend- ly to the cause, they g-ained an entire ascendancy over the too fecile King, ^^ho had not the grace to protect the tutor of his son from the effects of their rage, occasioned by poems that had been wTitten at his own express conmiand. Towards the end of the year 153 b, measures were taken for the total suppres- sion of the new opinions, and in Februai-y following, five persons were conmut- ted to the fhimes ; nine saved their lives by burning their bills, as it was called, or in other words recanting. Among the rest George Buclianan was on this occa- sion seized, and to secui-e ample vengeance upon him. Cardinal Beaton offered the king a sum of money for his life ; a piece of supererogatory Avickedness, for which there was not the sumllest occasion, as tiie prejudices of liis judges would inlallibly liave secured his condemnation, had he been brought before any of their tribunals ; but aware of the mortal emnity of his accusei-s, he lied into Engkiid, By the \vay he liappily escaped a pestilential distemper, Avliich was at tliat time desohiting the north of Fnghind, and when he arrived in London, experienced the protection of an English knight. Sir John Rainsfurd, \vho both supplied his iiiuuediate necessities, and protected him iVom the fui-y of the pa- pists, to whom he was now every wliere obnoxious. On this occasion it was tliat he addressed himself to Henry VIU. and to his minister Cromwell, both oi nhom treated him with neglect. Several of his little pieces written at this time .attest the su-aits to wliich he w;is reduced. England at tliat period iwd few ai» GEORGE BUCHANAN. 413 tractions lor a Scotsman ; and it must have been peculiarly galling to the lofty spirit of Buclianan, aflor stoDpinij to solicit patronage among the natural ene- mies of his country, to Ihid his efiorts despised, and his necessities disrejrarded. Meeting witli so little er.couragement there, he passed ovei to Paris, uhere he was well known, and had nuiny acquaintances. Ijut here to his disuuiy he found Cardinal Beaton resident as ambassador from the Scottish court. This circum- Btance rendered it extremely unsafe for him to remain ; happily he was invited to Bourdeaux by Andrew Goven, a Portuguese, principal of the college of Guienne, Lately founded in that city, through whose interest he was appointed professor of humanity in that afterwards highly famed seniinju"). Here lUiclianan remained for three yeai-s, during which he completed four Tragedies, besides composing a number of poeu'.s on miscellaneous subjects. He was all this while the object of the unweai'ied enmity of Cardinal Beaton and the Franciscans, who still thi-eatened liis life. The Cai'dinal at one time wrote to the bishop of Boiu'deaux, conuuanding him to secure the pei-son of the heretical poet, whicli might perhai>s have been done ; but the letter falling into the kinds of one of the poci's friends, was detained till the appeai-ance of a pestilence in (.uienne absorbed everj' lesser concern. The death of James \'. following soon after, ^vith the distractions consequent on that event, g^ve the Cardinal more than enough to do at home without taking cognizance of heretics abroad, ^auong liis pupils at Eoui'deaux, Buclianan numbered the celebrated 3Iichael de 3Iou- tiigne, who was an actor in every one of his di-ainas ; and among his friends ^vere not only his fellow professoi-s, but all the men of litei-ature and science in the city and neighboui-hood. One of the most illusti-iuus of these was the elder Scaliger, who resided and practised as a physician at Agin ; at his house Bucli- anan and the other professors used to spend pai"! of their vacations. Here they were hospitably entertained, and in their society Scaliger seems not only to have forgot, as he himself acknowledges, the tortures of the gout, but, wliat Avas more exti-aorduiar>-, his natnral talent for contradiction. Tlie many ex- cellent qualities of this eminent scholai', and the grateful recollection of his convei-sational talents, Budiaiuin lias pi-esei-ved in an eleg-ant Latin Epi- gi-am, ap^Kirently WTitten at the time when he was about to quit this seat of the muses, to enter upon new scenes of dilHculty and danger. The younger Scaliger was but a boy when Buchanan visited at his father's house ; but he inherited all his father's admii-ation of the Scottish poet, whom he dedared to be decidedly superior to all the Latin poets of those times. After liaving resided tliree yeai-s at Bourdeaux, and confen-ed lustre upon its Univei-sity by the splendour of his talents, Buclianan removed, for re;tsons which we are not acquainted with, to Paris; and in 1544, we find him one of the regents in the college of C;u-dinal le I>Ioii-e, which station he seems to have held till 1547. There he had for his associates, among other highly respectable names, the cele- brated Tui-nebus and 3Iui-etus. By a Latin eleg^' addiessed to his bite colleagues Tastoeus and T'e^^us, we learn that about this period he had a severe attack of the gout, and that he had been under the medical care of Cai'olus Steplianus, who was a doctor of physic of the faculty of Pai-is, and, like several of his rela- tions, was equally distinguished as a schohir and as a printer. In the same elegy', Buchanan commemorates the kindness of his colleagues, particulai-ly of GelicUi, an amiable and learned Spaniard, less eminent for talents tlian Bu- clianan's other colleagues, Turnebus and 31urelus, but as a man of true moral worth and excellence, at least equal to the fonner and vastly superior to the latter, who, though a man of splendid talents, was worthless in the extreme. To 31uretus, Buchanan addi-essed a copy of vei-ses on a Tragedy A\Titten by him in his youth, entitled Julius Ciesar ; but 3Iurelus had not as yet put forth those 414 GEORGE liUCHANAN. monstrosities of charactei, that oiij^ht long ago to have buru-rt liis name in oblivion.' In the year 1 5 17 Uiichanan again shifted his phice, and, along with his Fortu- guese friend, Andrew Govea, p;issed into Portugal. Govea, with two brothers, liad been sent for his education into Trance, by John 111. of Portugal, who having now founded the univei-sity of Coimlira, recalled him to take the prjnci2)al sujMjrintendence of the infant est;iblishment. Aware, at tiie same time, that his winile kingdom could not furnish a sulHciency of learned men to fill the v;u'ious chaii-s, his mijesty commissioned Govea to bring a number of learned men with him for that purpose. The pereons selected were George Buchanan, his elder brother Patrick, Gruchius, Geruntteus, Tcvius, and Vinetus, all of whom had already distinguished themselves by the publication of learned Avorlis. Ar- noldus Fabricius, John Costa, and Anthony Mendez, the two latter natives of Portugal, completed tlie cst^iblishment, and all of them, Patrick Buchanan and Fabricius excepted, had, under Govea, been toachei-s in the college of Guienne. France, at this period, threatened to be the scene of gi-eat convulsions, and Buclianan regarded this retirement to Portugal as an exceedingly fortunate circumstance, and for a short time his expectations were fully realized. Govea, however, died in less tlian a twelvemonth, and, deprived of his protection, the poor professoi-s soon found tiieniselves exposed to the jealousy of the natives oj! account of being foreigners, and to the unrelenting bigotry of the priests because they were schoLu"S. Three of their number were very soon inuuured in the dungeons of the inquisition, and, after a tedious confinement, brought before that tribunal, whicli, unable to convict them of any crime, overwhelmed them with reproaches, and reiiuinded them to their dungeons, without permitting them so much as to know mIio were their accusei^s. Buclianan did not esaipe his share of this pei-secutioiu Franciscanus was again revived against him, though the inquisitors knew nothing of that poem; for he had never parted with a copy, save tliat whicli he gave to his own Idng, James V., and he had taken care to have the wliole ail'air properly explained to the Portuguese monarch before he set foot in his dominions, lie was also charged with eating flesh in Lent, a practice quite common in Portugal at that time, and with having asserted that Augustine's opinion of the Eucharist coincided Avitli the protestant rather than %vith the Koniisli views on the subject, and two witnesses were found to declare that he was an enemy to the Koinan faith. More merciful than on many other occasions, the inquisition, after dealing with Buchanan for upwards of a year and ;; half, sentenced him to be conlined in a monastery for some months, that he iiiiglil by tlie inmates be better instructed in the principles and practice of religion. Fortunately, the monks to whose cai'C Buchanan was thus con- signed were not without humanity, though lie found them utterly ignorant of religion ; and he consoled himself l)y planning, and in part executing, his un- rivalled ])araphrase of the Psalms of David, which placed him immeasurably above all moduiii Latin poets, and will transmit his name ^ntli honour and admiration to the latest posterity. That this w;is a task imposed upon him by his ghostly guardians, is an idle tale totally devoid of foundation. The probability is that tlie poor laonlvs were im^apable of appreciating his labours, but he seems to liave gained their good will, for he was restored to his liberty, and soliciting the king's permission to return to France, was requested to remain, and pre- 1 Of Muretus's impious book, De Tribits Imposloribns, or thu three impostors, Rloses, Je- sus, and Mahomet, a late l)iograplier uf Buehanaii has saia "it is extremely eviikiit tlia' such a booli. never existed." We are informed, however, tliat u copy exists ui the MS. col leeliou of Uie Universilv of Glas 'ow. GEORGE UlCHANAM. 41j rented nith a small sum of money for subsistence till a situation worthy of his talents should be found. After having- suffered so much from the inquisition, Buurted, while he resided in France, the notice of Mary, by an Epi- llialamiuni on her nmn-iage with the Dauphin; and in Jamwry, 15ol-2, wo thid Randolph, the English amljassndor, writing thus from Etlinburgh to his eniployei-s : " Iher is with the qucne [Mai^] one called George Bowhanan a S(M»ttishe man very well learned, that was SchoUemaster unto 3Ions'- de Erissatk's son, very Godlye and honest." And in a subsequent letter, dated from St Andi-ews, he says, " the queue readeth diylie after her dinner, iiistnirted by a learned m;'.n, Mr George Bowhanan, somewhat of Livy." Jrlary had been sent to France in the sixth year of her age, and her educiition liad in some respects been carefully attended to. She spoke Scottish and French, as if both had been her vernacular tongue, which in some degree they might be said to be. With Italian and S^wnish she was familiar, and she was so much a master of liatin as to c^)mpose and pronounce in tliat langiuige, before a splendid auditory, a declanmtion against the opinion of those who would delmr the sex from the liberal pui-suits of science and literature. This oration she afterwartls transUvtcd into French, but neither the translation nor the original luis been published. 3Iary was at this time in the full bloom of youth and beauty, and to luve such a pupil must have been highly gi-atifying to Buchanan, who, with all the leaders of the refonnation in Scotland, was at first nmch attached to her. This attachment he took occasion to express in a highly finished copy of Lkitin vei-ses, prefixed to his translation of the Psalms, which he liad just finished, and sent to the press of his friend Henry Stephens. The exact date of the first full edition of this important work is not known, no date being on the title; but a second edition was printed in 1566, in which was included the author's tragedy of Jepthes. On the titlepage of both these impressions, Buchanan is styled Poetarum nostri .tceculi facile princeps, and the paraphrase was recommended by copies of Greek verses by the printer, Henry Stephens, one of the fii-st scholai-s of the age, by Franciscus Portus, and FretU-icus Jamotius, and in Latin vei-ses by Heni-y Stephens and Castlevetro. Mary nuist have been highly pleased by a compliment which can-ied her fame over all Europe, and as a reward for his services, bestowed upon her preceptor and poet, in Ijiil, the temporalities of the abbey of Crossragniell, vacant by the death of Quintiu Kennedy, brother to Buchanan's former pupil, the Eiirl of Cassillis. These temporalities were valued at five hundred pounds Scots a-year, and the poet seems to have held them till the cbiy of his death. 3Iarys love of power, and her attachment to popery, soon, however, alienated the afi'ections of her friends ; and, aware that he held her favour by a pi-ecarious tenure Buchanan sedulously cultivated the frienilship of the leadei-s of the reformation^ which was now become the firet object of his solicitude. In the same year in which he was promoted to the temporalities of Crossraguell, he prepared for the press a collection of satires, " Fratres Fraterrimi," in which the fooleries and impurities of the popish church were ti'eated with the keenest irony, and GEORGE BUCHANAN. 417 assiiiled with the most vehement invective, lie also now put the finishiinr hand to his I'ranciscanus, which lie 2)uhlished, with a dedication to liis friend and pati-on, the l^i'l of Miirniy. 'Ihrough the interest of this nobleman, liuchanan was nominated to he principal of St Leonard's college, St Andrews, in 15(50. In Novemher (his year, his name appears as one of the auditors of the faculty quistor's accounts in the university of St Andrews, where he had now fixed his residence. Tlie chamber which he occupied, as principal of St Leonard's, is now part of a private dwelling- liouse, and is supposed to liave. undergone srarcely any tniiisfor- niation. The f<»llowing- inventory of its furniture, in 1514, luis been jtro- served : — '* Twa standiird betls, the foroside of :nk and the northside and the fuits of fir — Item ane feather bed and ane white plaid of four ells and ane covering woven o'er with inuiges — Item another auld bed of harden filled with sfmw \vith ane covering of green — Item ane cod — Item ane iin-ower of bucli- nim of five breetls j>art green part red to zaillow — Item ane Huntei-s counter of the middlin kind — Item ane little buird for the studzie — Item ane furm ct fir and ane little letterin of aik on the side of tlie bed with ane image of St Jerom — Item ane stool of elm with ane other chair of little pine — Item ane chimney weighing*** — Item ane cliandler weighing***." In 15i56, and the two ensuing years, he wiis one of the four electors of tlie rector, and by each of the tliree oflicei-s who were successively chosen was nominated a pro- rector ; and in the public register he is denominated by the honourable title which, in publishing liis Psalms, Steplianus liad bestowed on him. As principal of the coUcge, he delivered occasional prelections on theology, as well as at the weekly meetings of the clergy and other learned men of the district, held for expounding the Scriptures, then styled the exercise of prophesying, and in the general assembly of the Scottish church he sat as a doctor from the year 15(i3 to 15(37, in which last year he liad the honour of being chosen moderator. This same year he published another collection, consisting of Elegise Silvce Hendecasyllabi, to which was prefixed an epistle to his friend Peter Daniel, tJie learned editor of Virgil, with the commentary of Servius, in ^vhicli lie gives several notices respecting his avocations, and especially respecting his poetiad works. "Between the occupations of a court, and the annoyance of disease, I have liardly," he remarlts, " been able to steal any portion of time which I (;ould devote to my friends or to myself, and I liave therefore been prevented from maintaining a frequent coiTespondence with them, and from collecting my poems which lie so widely dispersed. For my own part I was not extremely solicitous to recall them from perdition, for the subjects are generally of a trivial nature, and such as at this period of life are at once calcukited to inspire me \vith disgust and shame. But as Pierre Montaurc, and some other friends, to whom I neither can nor ought to refuse any request, demanded them with such earnestness, I have employed some of my leisure hours in collecting a portion, ^nd placing it in a state of aiTangement. With this specimen, which consists of one book of elegies, another of miscellanies, and a third of hendecasyllables, I in the meantime present you. When it shall suit your convenience, I beg you will communicate them to Montaure, des Mesmes, and other philological friends, witliout whose advice I trust you will not adopt any measure relative to their public^-ition. In a short time I propose sending a book of iambics, another of epigiams, another of odes, and perhaps some other pieces of a similar description. All these I wish to be at the disposal of my friends, as I liave hiially detennined to rely more on their judgment than on my own. In my paraphrase of the Psalms, I have coiTCCted many typogTaphical eiToi-s, and have likewise made various alterations. I must therefore request you to advise our friend Steplianus not to publish a new etlition without my knowledge. Hitherto 418 GEORGE BUCIIANA.N. I have uot found leisure to finish the second book of uiy poem De Sphera, and therefore I liave not nude a transcript of the fu-st. As soon as the fonuer are completed I shall transmit them to you. Salute in my name all our friends at Orleans, and such olliei-s ;is it nuiy be convenient. Farewell. Edinburgh, July the twenty-fourili, I5l3()." The work, of course, met with his friend's ap- probation, and was printed in I'aris by Robert Stephens in 15lj7, l-2mo. We liave already noticed tlut the poem De SpJiera was never completed. From the above letter it appears that it was Buchanan's intention to return to it when he should have iinished some others tliat were in a greater state of forwardness, and did not require such a full comnwnd of his time as a work of greater miignitude. Circumstances, however, soon put a period to these peace- ful and pleasing pui-suits. The marriage of 31ary and Darnley, the nau-ders of Rizzio and Darnley, the union between the Queen and Both well, the flight of tlie latter, ^lai^'s sur- render to the confederated lords, her imprisonment in Lochleven castle, and her escape fi-om it, the defeat of her army at Langside, and her escape into Eng- land, are tiie events best known of any in Scottish histury, and it is needless here to enbrge upon them. When Elizabeth thought fit to appoint conmiissioneri, and call witnesses from Scotland for the purpose of substantiating the charges upon which Jiiary had been expelled from the throne, the main burden of the proof w;is devolved upon Buchanan, who had accejited favours from the Queen, indeed, but did not on that account either decline the task of becoming her accuser, or perform it with the less severity. He accordingly accompanied the Regent 3Iun-ay into England upon that occasion, having composed in Latin a Detection of Mary's actions, whicli was laid before the conmiissioners at Westminster, and was afterwards most industriously circulated by the English courL 'Jo the same pen has also been ascribed tlie Actio contra Mariam Scotorum lleyinam, a coai-se and scurrilous invective, which was printed in England along with the Detection, but of ^vhich no man capable of reading Buchanan's works Avill be- lieve that he ever composed one line. " The Detection,'' says an eminent his- torian, 'is a concise historical deduction of I'acts, a rapid narrative written Avilii tliat chaste and classical precision of thought and language by which each sen- tence acquires an appropriate idea distinct from the preceding, neitlier antici- pated, repeated, nor intermixed with others ; and the style is so strictly historical that the work is incorporated in Buchanan's histoiy almost without alteration. But the Action against 3Iary is a dull declamation and a malignant invective, written in professed imitation of the ancient oratoi^s, wiiom Buchanan has never imitated, without arrangement of parts, coherejice, or a regular train of ideas, and williout a single passage which Buchanan in his history has deigned to trans- cribe." The assassination of the Regent 31uiTay soon after his return from England, threw the nation into a still deeper ferment, and Buchanan, strongly suspicious of the selfish policy of the Hamiltons, which he regarded as the prin- eipal source of the calamities that now afllicted the nation, addressed " Ane ad- monition direct to the true lordis maintainirs of the kingis graces aulhorite," in which he earnestly adjm-ed them to protect the young king and the children of the late regent from the perils that seemed to impend over them. The same year he cumposed a satirical delineation of the character of the secretai-y Lething- ton, entitled. Chameleon, which, tiu-ough the vigilance of the secretary, was pre- vented from being published at the lime. A copy, however, was preserved among the (votton MSS. dated 157 0, and it was printed at London, in 1710, in the Sliscellanea Scotica. It luis been often reprinted since. These two pieces ap- pear to be all that he ever composed in his vernacular tongue, and they are of such excellence as to make it matter of reuret lli.a he did not turn his attention GEORGE BrCHANAN. 419 oltener to (he cultivation of his native language. As the hopes of the protestant party were entirely centred in King James, Buchanan was, in 1570, selected by the lords of the privy council, and others of the nobiJity, assembled on occ^a- sion of the slaughter of the regent 3Iurray, to take the superintendence of that important matter, tlio educ^ition of the royal youth. On this occasion he " com- peared personally in presence of the said lornf>land] pi-ayin you als not to dispost my host at Newerk, Jone of Kilstorne. Tliys I pi-ay you, partly ior his awyne sake, (jidianie 1 tho' ane gude feMow, and partly at request of syk as 1 dire not refuse, and thus I take my leif slioi-tly at you now, and my lang leif qulien God pleasis, committing you to the protection of the Almyty." By this letter it is evident tliat he exj>ected to publish his history inuuediately. A long delay, however, took place, for when, in September IS^l, he was visited by Andrew Melville, James 31eJville, and his cousin Thomas Buchanan, the work was only then print- ing. Of this visit, James Melville has left a most interesting a<;count. " That September in tyme of vacjins, my uncle 31r Andro, IMr Thomas Bu(-hanan, and I, heiring y' Mr George Buchanan was weiik, and his historic under ye press, past ower to Edinbro annes earand to visit him and sie ye wark. AVlion we cam to his chalmer we fand him sitting in his charre teatching his young man that servit him in his chalmer to spel a, b, ab, e, b, eb, &c. After salutation, fllr Andro says, * I sie, Sir, ye are not ydle.' ' Better,' quoth he, ' than stcliing slieep or sitting ydle, whilk is als ill.' Yrefter he shew avs the epistle dctliciitorie to the lung, Uie quhylk when Mr Andro had read, he told him that it was obscure in some 2)laces, and wanted certain wordis to pei'fyt the sentence. Sayes he, ' I may do na mair for thinking on another matter.' ' What is tliat,' says ?ilr Andi-o. * To die,' quoth he ; * but I leave that an mony ma things to you to help.' AVe went from him to the printers wark hous, whom we fand at the end of the 17 buik of his chronicle, at a pbce qhuilk we liiought verie hard for the tyme, qhuilk might be an ocaision of steying the hail wark, anent the burial of Davie. Therefore steying the printer from proceeding, we cam to Blr George again, and fand him betlfast by [contrary to] his customc, and asking him whow he did, ' J'^ven going the Avay of weilfare,' sayes he. Mr Thomas, his cousin, sliaws him of the hardness of that part of his story, y' the king wald be otfeiidit vi' it, and it might stey all the wark. * Tell me, man,' sayes he, ' if I have told the truth.' ' Yes,' says Mr Thomas, ' I tlunk sa.' ' 1 will byd his feide and all nis kin's, then,' quoth he. ' Pray, pray to God for me, and let him direct all. Sa be the printing of his chronicle was eudit that maist learned, wyse, and Godlie man eudit this moi-tal lylU" The printing of the history must have gone on very slowly, for though it was printed as above, up to the seventeenth book, it was not linished till nearly a year after, the dedi(^ati(m to the king being (bited August the twenty-ninth, 15^2, only thirty (kys before the death of the author, which happened on Friday the 2Sth of September following, when he had rea(;hed tlie age of seventy-six years and eight months. He died in nmcli peace, expressing his full reliance on the blood of Clirist. tie was buried in the Greyfriars chur<;hyard, a great multitude attending his funeral. A throughstone, with an inscription, is said to have marked his grave ; but the inscripli(m has long been invisible, and the existence of the stone itself appears to be more than doubtful. An obelisk has, by the gratitude of posterity, been reared to his memory in his native village Kiliearn. His death, like that of all men who live out the full term of human life, excited less emotion than might liave been expected. Andrew Melville, who had often celebrated liim while alive, discharged the last - joiiiiiig translfUions of three of his best small poems, executed by my esteemed friend, Mr Ro- bert Hogg of Edinburgh, whose accurate Uiste and deep poetical sensibility are conspicuous in two arlicles alrtudv contributed by him to tins work — Dr Blacklock and Michael iJRUCK. It will be ()l)scrvr(l, from these compositions, which present the ideas and spirit of the original witli wonderful liiielity, how diti'erent u poet Buchanan must have been from the still u)id 1 ouceited rh) mesters of his own age and country. ON THE FIRST OF MAY. All hail to thee, tiiou First of May , Sacred to wonted sport and play, To wine, and jest, and dance and song, And mirth that hists the whole day longi Hail! of the seasons, honour bright, Annual return of s^veet delight ; Flower of reviving summer s reign, That liastes to time's old ago again! When Spring's mild air, at Nature's birth, First breathed upon the new-form 'd earth ; Or wlu Ji the fabled age of gold, Without lixed law, spontiuitous roU'd ; Such zephy rs, in continual gales, Pass'd temperate idong the vales. And softened and refreshetl the soil. Not broken yet by human toil ; Such fruitful warmths perpetual rest On the fair islands of the bh st^— Those plains where fell disease's moan, And frail old iige are both unlaiowni. Sucli winds with gentle whispers spread, Among the dwellings of the dead. And shake the cypresses that grow Where Lethe murmurs soft ajul slow Periuips when God at hist in ire Shfdl purify the world with fire. And to mankind restore a^ain Timt« happ\ , void of sin and pain, The beings of this earth beneath Such pure etherial air shall breathe. Hail! glory of the fleeting year! Hail ! day the fairest, happiest hero ! Memorial of tho tim« gone b)'. And emblem of futurity! ON NEiEllA. My wreck of mind, and all my woes, And all my ills tluit day arose, When on the fair Neara's eyes. Like stiirs that shine At first, with hapless fond surprise, I gazed with muie. When my glance met her searching glance, A shivering o'er my body burst, GEORGE BUCHANAN. 427 poetical mcasiucs is iirmieiise, and to each species he iinj>aits iis peculiar grace and harmony. The style of his prose cxJiibits coirospondent beauties ; nor is it che'0 GILBERT BUIiNET. 433 him reconciled witli LauJerdiilo, but without eirect Dr riuniet luid now no alternative but to resioii his professorial cliair, and seek a settlement in Eng- land, or by going back to ScolLuid, put himself in the power of his enemies. He did not long hesitate, and ivould have found at once a quiet settlement in London, had not the clectoi-s of the church he had in view been deterred from choosing him l)y a sharp message from the king. This, though at the time it liad the aspect of a misfortune, he ever after spoke of as one of the liappiest inci- dents of his life ; as it at once set him free from the entanglements of a cor- rupt court, whose services he had been so far engaged in, tliat, without some such accident, he niiglit never liave esraped from them. He liad now an otter of the living of St Giles, Cripplegate, from the Dean and chapter of St Pauls. As he, however, had learned, that it was originally their intention to bestow the living upon Dr Fuller, afterwards bisliop of Glou- cester, he thanked them for the otTer, but declared himself not at liberty to ac- cept it. Through the recommendation of Lord Mollis, he was next year ap- pointed preacher to a Chapel by Sir Harbottle Grimston, master of the rolls, though the court sent first a bishop and aTterward secretai-y Williamson to inform Harbottle tliat he was a preacher highly unacceptable to the king. In tiiis chapel he remained nine years, during which time he was elected a lecturer at St Clements, and was one of the most admired pi-eachers in town. In 1676, he printed an account of a conference which himself and Dr Stillingfleet held with Coleman and the principal of the Romish priests; and in 167.9, appeared the first volume of his history of the Reformation, which procured him a voto of thanks from both houses of parliament, with a request tlwit he would proso- cute the work to its completion, without loss of time. Two years after this, he published the second volume, which met with the same general approbation as the first. Having at this time no parochial cure, Dr Burnet was not in the practice of visiting the sick, as a part of his regular calling ; but he was always ready to attend those who requested his visits. Among these liappened to be a lady, who had been criminally connected with John Wilmot earl of Rochester, and the manner in which the Dr conducted himself towards her, excited a strong desire in his loi-dship to see and converse with him. This led to a weekly meeting of Dr Burnet and Lord Rochester for a whole winter, which ended first in the conviction, and latterly it is to be hoped the conversion of tliat singular libertine. An account of the whole affair was published by Dr Burnet in 16 51, which, Dr Johnson says, " the critic ought to read for its elegance, the philoso- pher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety." During the time of the inquiry into the popish plot, Charles seems to have been softened down consid- erably, and often sent for Dr Burnet, and consulted with him on the state of the nation. His 3Iajesty made also another attempt to bring him over, by of- fering him the bishopric of Chichester, at that time vacant, provided he would come entirely into his interests ; Burnet with an honesty, that we fear, is but too seldom practised, told the king, he knew the oaths that in such a case he must take : these he would observe religiously, but must be excused from giving any other engagements. He of coui-se was not installed in the bishopric ; but he embraced the opportunity of writing a letter to the king, which does him moi-e real honour than if he had held in his single person, all the bishoprics in ICngland. This letter, so full, so free, so faithful, and so affectionate, we regret that our limits forbid us to insert. We must also leave it to general his- tory, I.) letail the endeavours he made to save the lives of Staley and the Lord Statlbrvl, on occasion of the popish plot. By his conduct with regard to the exclusion of the Duke of York, and the scheme of a Prince Regent in lieu of that exclusion, he lost the favour of both parties, perhaps not luide- J- 3 I 434 GILBERT BURNET. serveillv. Vet, in I'J-):;^, \vln;ii the adniinistialion was wholly in favour of llie Dulce of York, a promise was obtained iVoni the king to besio\v upon him tlie mastership of tlie Temple, which was likely to be immediately vacant ; upon which he was auain sent tor by the kin^', and treated with extraordinary kind- ness. Burnet himself, however, waved the promise that iiad been made him, wlien he fo;ind that he was expected in return for the pLace, to break up con-es- poudence with all those who had been his best friends. lie felt himself at this time upon such dangerous ground, that he was afraid of all communication with either of the parties that at this time were agitating the public mind ; and as an excuse for privacy, built a laboratory, and for a whole year amused liimsclf witii performing experiments in chemistry. He was at this time oifered a living of three hundred pounds a year by the earl of Essex, upon condition tliat lie woidd continue to reside in London. In case of having the cure of souls, how- ever, Burnet thought residence an indispensable obligation, and the benefice was given to another. In 1G83, he naiTowly escaped being brought by liis friends into trouble by the Ryehouse plot ; and by his conducting the trial and attending on Lord William Russel in prison and on the scaflbld, and particular- ly by defending his memory before the council, he incun-ed the odium of the court, which, from a certain knowledge of his integrity, could not fail at this time to be greatly afi'aid of him. In the course of this year, probably to be out of the way of his enemies, he went over to Paris, where he was treated with great deference, by the expi-ess ordei-s of Louis XIV. Here, his friends, apprehen- sive of thinger to him at home, wished him to remain ; but as no consideration CO iild induce him to be long absent from his charge, he of coui-se i-etm-ned in a short time. That same year, ho\vever, he was discharged ft'om his lecture at St Clements, by a mandate from the king, and in March 1GS4., lie was forbid preaching any more in the chapel at the rolls. Being thus happily disengaged from all his employments, at the death of Charles II. upon the accession of James VH. he recjtiested, and obtained leave to quit the kingdom, and went to Paris, where he lived in gi-eat retirement, to avoid being involved in the con- spiracies which the duke of iMonmouth and the earl of Argyle were then forming against the government. When that business was at an end, he in company with an officer, a protestant in the French service, made the tour of Italy, and in lij'34, came to Uti'echt, where he found lettei's from some of the principal min- istei"s of state at the Hague, requesting him to wait upon the prince and prin- cess of Orange. As the Revolution in England was already in contemplation, Dr Burnet met from these personages a most gracious reception, and was soon admitted to an entire confidence. When Dyckvelt was sent over ambassador to England, with a view particularly to sound the inclinations of the people, his secret instructions were drawn up by Dv Burnet, of which the rough draught in his own liand writing is still preserved, James, in the meantime, was highly incensed against him for the reflections he had nii.Je on the richness of the catholic countries, through \vhich he had passed, in an account of his travels re- cently j)ublishcd, which it was supposed had had a sensible effect upon the peo- ple of England, llis majesty acc( rdingly wrote two severe letters against him to the princess of Orange, and forbade his envoy at the Hague to transact any busi- ness with that court till Dr Burnet \vas forbidden to appear there. This to hu- mour James was done ; but Hallewyn Fogel and the rest of the Dutch ministers crnsulted with him privately every day. A prosecution for treason was now c nmnenced against Dr Burnet in Scotland ; but before this could be notified to tlie States, he had been naturalized with a view to bis marriage with a Dutch lady ; and in a letter in answer to the charges preferred against him, directed to the earl of Middleton, he stated that being now naturalized in Holland, his GILBERT BURNET. 43; allegiance, during- his stny there, was transferred from his majesty to the States This expression was at onre laid hold of, and dropping tlie former prosecution Uiey pioceedcd against hiui for tliese words, as guilty of high treason, and pas sed against him a sentence of outlawry. It was then demanded of the i^utef to deliver him up, or to banish him ; but as he had been naturalized, die St-ites refuietl to proceed against him, unless he were legally convicted of some crime ; which, if his majesty found himself capable of doing, they would punisii him according to their law. To naiTate tiie important part he performed in the revolution, would be to ^^xite the history of that great event. By tiie prince of Orange as well as by the friends of liberty in England, he was treated with unreserved confidence. He had a principal hand in drawing up tlie prince's de- clarations, as well ;is the other public papers written at the time to justify the undertaking. But for a particular account of these wo must refer our readers to the history of England. At the Bevolution, Dr Crew, bishop of Durham, having been on the high commission created by king James, offered to re- sign his bishopric to Eh- Burnet, ti'usiing to his generosity for one thousand a year for life out of tiie episcopal revenue ; and sent the earl of 3Iontague to the prince of Orange with the proposal ; but when mentioned to Burnet he refused absolutely to have any thing to do with it on these terms, as he considered them highly criminal. He was sliortly after promoted ij the see of Salisbui-y. At the close of the Session of parliament 16^9, Dr Burnet \vent down to his dio- cese, wlien he entered upon the duties of his episcopal office with that conscien- tious ardoui- which distinguished his character. His fii-st pastoral letter, how- ever, in which, to save betraying the discrepancies of his political creed, he found- ed king William's right to the throne upon conquest, gave so much oifence to both houses of parliament, that they ordered it to be burnt by the hands of the hangman. Ele maintained, nevertheless, unshaken credit with kin^ William and queen 3Iaiy to the end of their days : and employed that credit in the most praise-worthy manner. He was by the king, in preference to all his min- isters, appointed to name the princess Sophia, Electi-ess of Brunswick, next in succession to the princess of Denmai'k, and her issue, in the famous bill for de- claring tlie rights and liberties of the subject, and settling tlie succession to the crown; and Avhen that succession was explicitly established in 1701, he had the honour of being chairman of the committee to which the bill was refeiTcd. He had also the pleasure in iG90, of being a successful advocate for Lord Clarendon, who had engaged in a plot against the king, and been one of the Di-'s bitterest enemies, at the time when popary and arbitrary power were in favour. During the life of 3Iai'),\ Dx* Bui-net being generally one of her advisere, the affairs of the church passed wholly through his hands. After her death, in 1694, a commission was granted for tluit pui-pose to the two archbishops and four prelates, of whom Di' Burnet was one. A coimnission of the same kind wvls granted in 1700, and the Doctor still continued a member. In 1693, he was appointed preceptor to the Duke of Gloucester, and, on that occasion, insisted on giving up his bishopric King William, however, would not allow him to do so ; but, in order to soothe him, made aia-angeiuents tliat he misfht be at hand, and still have it in his power to pay considerable attention to his diocese. In this high trust the bishop conducted himself so as to have the entire approbation of the princess of Denmark, who ever after retained a peculiar affection for him, of which he had many sensible tokens after she came to the throne ; though in her last years he was in direct and open opposition to her measures. In tlie year 1699, he published his celebrated exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles, and a short liiue before his death, a third volume of his Histor)- of the Refonua- 436 GILBERT BURNET, lion. In the month of JMarch, 1715, he was attacked with a pleuritic fever, wl'.ich carried him oi]', being in the seventy-second year of his age. He was married first to tlie Lady ^largaret Kennedy, daugiiter to the Ear! of Cassillis, celebrated tor her beauty and her wit. Secondly, to iMrs 3Iary Scott, a Dutcli lady of noble extraction and large fortune, by Avhoni he had three sons. Thirdly, to 3Irs Berkeley, a widow lady of singular talents and unconnuon jdety, by whom he had no issue. From the brief sketch Avhich we have given ol' the jtrincipal events of his life, it is evident that Dr liurnet possessed a vigorous un- derstanding, and was a man of great piety, and unwearied perseverance. Early prepossessions, however, whi*;h, vigorous as his understanding was, he evidently could not overcome, made htm the dupe of a system antiscriptural and supei-sti- tious — a system which whatever it may seem to promise in theory, has in prac- tice been found cumbersome and ineflicient — a system which, while it provides for the pampering of a fesv of the privileged orders of the clergy, leaves all the rest, together with the great body of the people, to pine and perish in want, con- tempt, and ignorance. AVhat man as a bishop co'-dd do, Dr Burnet, while bishop of Salisbui-y, appeais to have done ; but he was hampered on all liands by insur- mountable abuses originally inherent, or growing naturally out of the legalised order of things. His consistorial court he found to liave become a grievance both to clergy and laity, and he attended for yeai-s in person to correct it. But the true foundation of complaint he found to be the dilatory course of pro- ceedings, and the exorbitant fees, which he had no authority to correct. He could not even discharge poor suitors who were oppressed with vexatious prose- cutions, otherwise than by paying their fees out of his own pocket, which he fre- quently did, and this was all the reform he ^vas able to accomplish. In admit- ting to ordei-s, he met with so nmch ignorance and thoughtless levity, that for the benefit of the church he formed a nursery at Salisbui-y, under his own eye, for students of divinity, to the number of ten, to each of whom he allowed a sum of money out of his own income for his subsistence, and in this way he reared up several young men who became eminent in the church ; but this was soon disco- vered to be a designed affront put upon the method of education followed at Ox- ford, and he was compelled to give it up. Pluralities he exclaimed against as sacrilegious robbery, and in his first visitation at Salisbiu-y quoted St Bernard, v.lio, being consulted by a priest, whether he might not accept of two benefices, replied, ' And how will you be able to serve them,' ' 1 intend,' said the priest, ' to officiate in one of them by deputy.' ' Will your deputy be danmed for you too,' said the saint; 'believe me, you may sene your cure by proxy, but you mast be damned in person.' This quotation so aflected one of his hearers, 31r Kilsey, that he resigned the rectory of Bemerton, worth two hundred pounds a year, v.hich he held along with one of still greater value. The bishop was, at the same time, from the poverty of the living, frequently under the necessity of joining two of them together to have them served at all, and sometimes he found it necessary to help the incumbent out of his own pocket into the bargain. Tlicse, with other evils, it must be admitted, the Doctor lost no opportunity to attempt having redressed, but alas ! they were and are inherent in the system, without a reform in which, they admit of no cure. He (r.r.elled over his diocese which he found " ignorant to sc^aiidal," catechising an;! confirming with the zeal of an apostle ; and when he attended his duty in parliament, he preached in some of the London clmrches every Sabbath morning, and in the evening lec- tured in his own house, where a lumiber of pei-sons of distinction attended. So much conscientious diligence, confined to a legitiuiate locality, coidd scarcely have failed to produce a rich harvest of gospel fruits. Scattered as it was over such a wide surface, there is reason to fear that it was in a great measure unpro- .TAMES BURNET. 437 fitable, Wliile Dr Burnet was a dili<>eiit instructor fnun the jtulpit, he was not less so from the press, having pubhshed in his lile-tiuic lifty-eight single sermons, thirteen treatises or tracts on divinity, seventeen upon popery, twenty-six jxdili- cal and miscellaneous, and twenty-four historical and biographical, to which we may add the History of his Own Time, published since his death. Some of these, particularly the Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles, the Histoi'y of the Refor- mation, and of his own times, still are, and must long continue to be, especially the latter, standard works. The Histoiy of his Own Time, it has been happily observed, has received the best testimony to its worth from its having given equr.l offence to the bigoted and interested of all parties. Take him all in all, per- haps no juster eulogium has been passed upon him than that of AVodrow, who, speaking of him as one of Leighton's preachers, «;alls him " Mr Gilbert Burnet, well known to the Avorld since, first professor of Divinity at Glasgow, and after that persecuted, for his appearing against popery, and for the cause of liberty, and since the Revolution the learned and moderate bishop of Sarum, one of the great eye-sores of the high-fliers and tories of England, and a very great orna- ment to his native countiy." BURNET, Ja-mes, better l;nown by his judicial designation of Lord 3Ion- boddo, was born at Monboddo, in Kincardineshire, in the year 1714. He was eldest surviving son of James Burnet, by Elizabeth Forbes, only sister to Sir .\ithur Forbes of Craigievar, Baronet For what reason is not known, but, in- stead of being sent to a public school, he was educated at home, under the care of Dr Francis Skene, afterwards professor of philosophy at the Marischal Col- lege, Aberdeen. This gentleman discharged his duty to his pupil with the ut- most faithfulness, and succeeded in inspiring him with a taste for ancient litera- ture. He was the firet that inti-oduced him to an acquaintance with the philosophy of the ancients, of which 3Ir Burnet became so enthusiastic an admirer. Dr Skene, being promoted to a professorship, Avas the more immediate cause of his pupil accompanying him to Aberdeen, and of his being educated at the 3Iaris- chal College in that city. It is probable that he lodged with his preceptor, who of course would direct and superintend his studies. Dr Skene was a professor in that seminai-y for the long period of forty-one years, and was universally ac- knowledged to be one of the most diligent and laborious teachei's that ever held the honourable office. What contributed, in a great degree, to fix 3Ir Burnet's attention upon the literature and philosophy of the Greeks, was not only the instructions he had re- ceived at home from his tutor, but that, when he entered the university. Principal Blackwell had for several yeai-s been professor of Greek. Tiiis person was the great means of reviving the study of this noble language in the north of Scot- land ; and one of his greatest admirers, and zealous imitatoi-s in the prosecution of (Grecian learning, was ?'Ir Burnet. Esteeming the philosophical works ti'ans- mitted to us by the Romans as only copies, or borrowed from the Greeks, he determined to have recoui-se to the fountain head. Burnet was naturally a man of very keen passions, of an independent tone of thinking, and whatever opinion he once espoused, he was neither ashamed nor afraid to avow it openly. He dreaded no consequences, neither did he regard the opinions of others. If he had the authority of Plato or Aristotle, he was quite satisfied, and, how para- doxical soever the sentiment might be, or contrary to what was popular or gener- ally received, he did not in the least regard. Revolutions of various kinds were oeginning to be introduced into the schools ; but these he either neglected or despised. The Newtonian philosophy in particular had begun to attract atten- tion, and public lecturers upon its leading doctrines had been established in almost all the British universities ; but their very novelty was a sufficient reason 43S JAMES BURNET. for his neglecting tlieiii. ihe laus by uliich the material world is reirulated, were considered by him as of vastly inferior importance to what regarded mind, and its dirersilied operations. To the contemplaiion of the Litter, therefore, bis chief study was directed. Having been early desiofned for the Scottish bar, he wisely resolved to lay a good foundation, and to surter nothing to interfere with what was now to be the main business of iiis lil'e. To obtain eminence in the profession of the law, de- pends less upon contingencies, than in any of the oUier learned professions. Wealth, splendid conneaions, and circumstantxis merely casual, have brought for- ward many physicians and divines, who had nothing else to recommend them. But though these may be excelienl subsidiai-iei. they are not sutficient of them- selves to constitute a distinguished lawyer. Besides good natural abilities, the mos: severe application, and uncommon diligence in the acquisition of extensive lesral knowledee, are absolutely necessary. At every step the neophyte is obliged to make trial of his strength with his opponents, and as the public are seldom in a mistake for any length of time, where their interests are materially con- cerned, his station is ver\' soon fixed. The intimale connection that subsists between the civil or Roman law, and the law of Scotland, is well kno^vn. 'Ihe one is founded upon the other. Accoi-ding to the custom of Scotland at that time, Burnet repaired to Holland, where tiie best mastei-s in this study were then settled. At the university of Groningen he remained for tliree years, assiduously attending the lectures on the civil law. l.e then returned to his native country- so perfectly accomplished as a civilian, tliat, during the course of a lonff lite, his opinions on diificult points of this law were highly respected. He happened to arrive in Edinburgh from Holland on the night of Porteous' mob. His lodgings were in the Lawnmarket, in the vicinity of the Tolbooth, and hearing a sreat noise in tlie street, from a motive of curiosity he sallied forth to witness the scene. Some person, however, had recognised him, and it was cuiTenily reported that he was one of the ringleaders. He was likely to have been put to some ti'ouble on this account, had he not been able to prove that he had just airived from abroad, and therefore could know no- thing of what was in agitation. He was wont to relate with great spirit the circumstances that attended this singular transaction. In 1737, he became a member of the Faculty of Advocates, acd in process of time came into considerable practice. His chief patrons in early lite, were lord justice clerk 3Iilton, lord president Forbes, and Erskine lord iinwald, or Alva. The last had been a professor in the university of Edinburgh, and being an excellent Greek scholar, knew how to estimate his talents. During the rebellion of 1745, Burnet went to London, and prudently de- clining to take any part in the politics of that troublous period, he spent the time cliiedy in the ccmpany and conversation of his literary friends. Among these were Thomson the poet, lord Littleton, and Dr Armstrong. M nen peace was restored, he returned to Scotland, .\bout 17G0, he married a beautiful and accomplished lady, 3Iiss Farquharson, a relation of 3Iarischal Keith, by whom he had a son ai.d two daughters. What lii-st brought him into very pro- minent notice, was the share he had in coi ducting the celebrated Douglas' cause. No question ever came before a court of law, which interested the pub- lic to a greater degree. In Scotland it became in a manner a national question, for the whole country was divided, and ranged on one side or tlie other. 3Ir Burnet was counsel for 31r Douglas, and went thrice to France to assist in lead- ing the proof taken there. This he was well qualified to do, for, during his studies in Holland, he had acquired the practice of speaking the 1 rench lan- guage with great facility. Such interest did this cause excite, that the pleadings JAMES BURNET. 4;J9 before th3 court of session lasted thirty-one days, and the most eminent lawyers ^vere engaged. It is a curious historical fact, that almost all the lawyers on Itotii sides were afterwards raised to the bench. IMr Burnet was, in 17(Jl., made sheriff' of his native county, and on the l^th February, 17G7, through the inte- rest of the Duke of Queensltcrry, lord justice general, he succeeded Lord 3Iil- ton as a lord of session, unujr the title of Lord Monboddo. It is said that he refused a justiciary gown, being unwilling that his studies should be inteiTupted, during the vacation, by any additional engagemenls. The first work which he published was on the Origin and Progress of Lan- guage. The first volume appeared in 1771, the second in 1773, and the third in 1776. This treatise attracted a great deal of attention on account of the singularity of some of the doctrines which it advanced. In the first part, he gives a very learned, elaborate, and abstruse account of the origin of ideas, ac- cording to the metaphysics of IMato and the commentators on Aristotle, philoso- phers to whose writings and theories he was devotedly attached. He then treats of the origin of human society and of language, which he considers as a human invention, without paying the least regard to the scriptural accounts. He repre- sents men as having originally been, and continued for many ages to be, no better than beasts, and indeed in many respects worse; as destitute of speech, of reason, of conscience, of social afl^ection, and of every thing that can confer dignity upon a creature, and possessed of nothing but external sense and memoi'y, and a capacity of improvement. The system is not a new one, being borrowed from Lucretius, of whose account of it, Horace gives an exact abridg- ment in these lines : — " Cum proi'epserunt primis animalia terris, mutum et turpe pecus,''&c. which Lord 3Ionboddo takes for his motto, and whicli, he said, comprehended in miniature the whole history of man. In regard to facts that make for his system he is amazingly credulous, but blind and sceptical in regard to every thing of an opposite tendency. He assei'ts with the utmost gravity and confidence, that the oran-outangs are of the human species — that in the bay of Bengal, there exists a nation of human creatures with tails, discovered one hundred and thirty years before by a Swedish skipper — that the beavers and sea-cats are social and political aninuils, though man, by nature, is neither social nor political, nor even rational — reason, reilection, a sense of riglit and wTong, society, policy, and even thought, being, in the human species, as much the eliects of art, contrivance, and long experience, as writing, ship-building, or any other manufacture. Notwithstanding that the work contains these and many other strange and whimsical opinions, yet it discovers gTeat acuteness of remark. His greatest Avork, which he called " Ancient IMetaphysics," consists of three volumes 4to., the last of which was published only a few weeks before the author's death. It may be considered as an exposition and defence of the Gre- cian philosophy in opposition to the philosophical system of Sir Isaac Newton, and the scepticism of modern metaphysicians, particularly Mr David Hume. His opinions upon many points coincide with those of IMr Harris, the author of Hennes, wlio was his intimate friend, and of whom lie was a great admirer. He never seems to have understood, nor to have entered into the spirit of the New- tonian philosophy; and, as to 3Ir Hume, he, williout any disguise, accuses him of atheism, and reprobates in the most severe terms some of his opinions. In domestic circumstances Monboddo was particularly unfortunate. His wife, a very beautiful woman, died in child-bed. His son, a promising boy, in whose education he took great delight, was likewise snatched from his atl'ections by a premature death; and his second daughter, in personal loveliness one of tlie iirst women of the age, was cut off' by consumption, when only twenty-five years okL 4-10 KOBfciRT BURNS. hui lis, in an address to Kdinbui-gh, Uius celebrates the beauty and excellence < f 3Iis5 Burnet : — " Thy daughttrs bright thy walks aJom, Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thom, Dear as the raptured thrill of joy! Fair Burnet strikes the adoring eye, Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine: I see the Sire of' lore on high, And o^^^l his work indeed divine." His eldest daugliter uas married to Kirkpatrick Williamson, Esq. bte keeper of the outer liouse rolls, ^\lio had been clerk to his lordship, and Has eminent as a Greek scholar. About 1780, he first began to make an anniml journey to London, Mhi(;li he continued for a good many years, indeed, till he was upwards of eighty years of age. As a carriage was not a vehicle in use among the ancients, he deter- mined never to enter and be seated in wlrnt he termed a box. He esteemed it as degrading to the dignity of human nature to be dragged at the tails of hoi-ses instead of being mounted on their backs. In his journeys between Edinbm-gh and London he therefore rode on horseback, attended by a single servant. On his last visit, he was taken ill on the road, and it was with dithculty tliat Sir Hector ^lonroe prevailed upon him to come into his carriage. He set out, how- ever, next day on horseback, and arrived safe in Edinburgh by slow journeys. Loi-d 31onboddo being in London in 1765, visited the King's bench, wlte^i some part of the fixtures of the place giving way, a great scatter took place among the lawyers, and the very judges themselves rushed towards the door, 3Ionboddo, somewlint near-sighted, and rather dull of hearing, sat still, and was the only num who did so. Eeing asked why he had not bestirred himself to avoid the ruin, he coolly answered, that he " thought it was an annual ceremony, with Avhich, being an alien, he had nothing to do." When in the country he generally dressed in the style of a plain farmer ; and lived among his tenants with the utmost familiarity, and treated them with greai kindness. He used much the exercises of walking in the open air, and oi ridiu'r. He had accustomed himself to the use of the cold bath in all seasons, and amid every severity of the weather. It is snid that he even made use of the air bath, or occasionally walking about for some minutes naked in a room filled with fresh and cool air. In imitation of the ancients, the practice of anointing was not forgotten. The lotion he use'd was not the oil of the ancien ts. but a saponacious liquid compour>d of rose water, olive oil, saline aromatic spirit, and Venice soap, which, when well mixed, i-esembles cream. This he applied at bed-time, before a large fire, after coming from the warm bath. This learned and ingenious, though somewhat eccentric, man died upon the •2Gth 31ay, i7U'J, at the advanced age of eighty-five years. BUK.NS, KoBHuiT, a celebrated poet, was born January -25, 175!) ; died July •2,2, 17'J(). Of tliis illustrious genius I originally intended to have compiled an account, from the materials that liave been already published, adding such new facts as liave come in my way. But, having been mucii struck with the felicity of a narrative ^vritten by the unfortunate Kobert Heron — \\hich nearly answer,' my purpose as to length, and contains many fresh and striking views of tlu various situations in which tiie poet was placed in life, together with, what ap pears to me, a comprehensive and most eloquent estimate of his genius — I have been induced to prefer it to anything of my own. By this course I shall revive a very rare and interesting composition, which is often quoted, but seldom seer> ROBERT BURNS. 441 and present to the reader, not only an uncommonly clear view of llie lite and i;haracter of Burns, but also a specimen of the aninuited and nervous, thouirh somewhat turgid, style of Heron, whose literary history is scarcely less remarka- bl;^ than that of the AjTshire barcL The reader will lind the text occasionally corrected and illustrated by notes, as also a short poetical relique of Burns, which first appeared in iho original edition of this work. Robert Burns was a native of Ayrsliire, one of the western counties of Scot- land.' He was the son of humble pai'ents ; and his father passed through life in the condition of a hired labourer, or of a small fanner." Even in this situation, however, it was not hard for him to send his children to the parish school, to receive the ordinary instructions in reading, writing, arithmetic, and the principles of religion. By this coui-se of education, young Robert pro- fited to a degree that might have encouraged his triends to destine him to one of the liberal professions, had not his father's poverty made it necessary to re- move him from school, as soon as he had grown up, to earn for himself tiie means of support, as a hired plough-boy, or shepherd.^ The establishment of parish sciiools, but for Avhich, perhaps, the infant ener- gies of this young genius might never have received that first impulse, by which alone they were to be excited into action, is one of the most beneficial that have ever been instituted in this country; and one which, I believe, is no where so firmly fixed, or extended so completely throughout a whole kingdom, as in Scot- land. Here, every parish has a schoohnaster, almost as invariably as it has a clergyman. For a sum, rarely exceeding twenty pounds, in salary and fees, this person instructs the children of the parish in i-eading, writing, arithmetic, book- keeping, Latin, and breek. The schoolmasters are generally students in phil- osophy or theology ; and hence, the establishment of the parish schools, beside its direct utilities, possesses also the accidental advantage of furnisliing an excel- lent school of futm'e candidates for the oflice of parochial clergymen. So small are the fees for teaching, that no parents, however poor, can want the means to give their children, at least such education at school, as young Burns received. Fx-om the spring Libours of a plough-boy, from the summer employment of a 1 He was born ia a clay-l)uilt cottage, about two miles to the south of the town of Ayr, within tlie abrogated parish of Allowd\ , and in the immediate vicmity of the ruined church of tliat parisli, whicli he has immortahzed in his Tarn o' Sfmnler. ^ His father, William Burness — for so lie always spelt his name — was the son of a farmer in Kincardineshire, and had removed from that comity to Ayrshire, at nineteen years of age, in consequence of domestic embarrassments. Some collateral relations of Burns fill a respectable station in society at Mont^se. William Burness wiis one of those intelligent, thoughtful, and virtuous characters wlio have contributed to raise the reputation of the Scot- tish peiis.iutry to its present lofty height. From him the poet derived an immense store of knowledge, an habitual feeling of piety, and, what will astonish most of all, great aequainUmce with the world and the wa\ s of nnuikind. After supporting himself for some jears as gar- dener to Mr Ferguson of Doonholm, the father took a small farm (Mount Oliphant) from that gentleman, to which he removed \vlien the poet was between six and seven jears of age. He subsequently removed to the farm of Lochlea, in the parish of Tarbolton, where he died, in 17S4, in very embarrassed circunist;mces. The mother of Burns was Agnes Bro\vn, the daughter of a race of Ayrshire peasants. She survived her son about thirty years, and died at an advanced age. 3 The circumsUmces of Burns' education are weU known ; he learned English, writing, arithmetic, a little mathematics, some Latin, and a smattering of French. He had contrived in his early jeai^s to obtain a perusfil of many English ckissical works, and some translations of the ancient poets. The first book which he read was the Man of Feeling, by Mackenzie ; of which work he used to s<'iy he liad worn out two copies, by carrying it in his pocket. — S-e a life of Burns in Scots Migazine, 1797. His favourite books, at a very early period, were a Life of Hannibal, and the well-known paraphrase of Blind Harry's Life of Wallace, by Hamilton of Gilbertfield — the latter had certainly helped to give a strongly national bent tc his mill I. The staement in the text as to his having become a hired plough-boy, does not receive confirmation from any other source, and is probablv incorrect. I. ?, k' 442 ROBERT BURNS. shephei-u, llie peasant youth often returns, lor a few months, eagerly to pursue his education at the parish school. It was so with Burns ; he returned from labour to learning, and from learning went again to labour, till his mind began to open to the charms of taste and knowledge : till he besran to feel a passion for books, and for the subjects of books, which was to give a colour to the A\hole thread of his future life. On nature he soon beean to gaze with new discernment, and with new enthusiasm : his mind's eve opened to perceive affecting beauty and sublimity, where, by the mere gross jicasant there was nought to be seen but water, earth, and sky, but animals, plants, and soil : even as the eyes of the servant of Elisha were sud- denly enlightened to behold his master and himself guarded from the Syrian hands, by horses and chariots of fire, to all but themselves invisible. What nught, perhaps, first contribute to dispose his mind to poetical efibrts, is one particular in the devotional piety of the Scottish peasantiy ; it is still com- mon for them to make their children get by heart the Psalms of David, in that version of homely rhymes, which is used in their churches. In the morning, and in the evening of every day, o-, at least in the evening of every Saturday and Sun- day, these psalms are sungin solemn family devotion, a diapter of the Bible is read, and exteiuporary prayer is fervently uttered.^ The whole books of the sacred Scriptures are thus continually in the hands of almost every peasant. And it is impossible tliat some souls should not occasionally be awakened among them to the dinne emotions of genius, by that rich assemblage, which those books pre- sent, of ahnost all that is interesting in incident, or picturesque in imagery, or atfectingly subliuit- , or tender in sentiments or character. It is impossible that those rude rhymes, and the simple ai-tless music with which they are accom- panied, should not occasionally excite some ear to a taste for the melody of verse. That Burns had felt these impulses, will appear undeniably certain to whoever sliall carefully peruse his Cottar's Satui-day Night ; or shall remark, with nice obspjvation, the various fragments of scripture sentiment, of scripture imageiy, of scripture language, which are scattered throughout his works. Still more interesting to the young peasantry, are the ancient ballads of love and war, of which a great number are yet popularly known and sung in Scot- land, AVhile the prevalence of the Gaelic language in the northern parts of this country, excluded from those regions the old Anglo-Saxon songs and minstrels; these songs and minstrels were, in the meantime, driven by the Norman conquests and establishments, out of the southern counties of England ; and were forced to wander, in exile, beyond its northern confine, into the southern districts of the Scottish kingdom, Ittnce in the old English songs, is every fan.ous minstrel still related to have been of the north country, while, on the contrary, in the old Scottish songs, it is always the suuth counti-y, to wliich every favourite minstrel is said to belong. It is the same district to which both allude; a district comprehending precisely the southern counties of Scotland, with the most northern counties of England. In the south of Scotland the best of those ballads are often sung by the rustic maid or matron at her spinning wheel. They are listened to witli ravished ears, by old and young. Their rude melody; that mingled curiosity and awe, which are naturally excited by the very idea of their antiquity : the exquisitely tender and natm-al complaints sometimes poured forth in them ; the gallant deeds of knightly heroism, which tbey sometimes celebrate ; their wild tales of demons, ghosts, and fairies, in wlicse existence superstition alone has believed ; the manners which they represent ; tiie obsolete, yet picturesque and expressive language, in which they * William Burness looked upon his son Robert as the best reader in the Louie, and used to employ him to read the Bible to the rest. — Sc>t.- Mngaztne, 1797. ROBEllT BURNS. 443 ressions ol" love and li-iemlsliip. With several ot the young peasantry, who were his fellows in lai)oiir, he contracted an allectionate intimacy of acquaintance. He eagerly sought admission into the hrotherhood of free masons, which is reconniiended to the young men of tiiis country, by nothing so nuich as hy its seeming to extend the sphere of agreeable acquain- tance, a.id to knit closer the bonds of friendly endeannent. In some mason lodges in his neighbourhood, J5urns had soon the fortu;:e, whether good or bad, to gain the notice of several gentlemen, better able to estimate the true value of such a mind as his, than were his fellow peasants, with whom ahme he had hitherto associated. One or two of them might be men of convivial dispositions, and of religious notions rather licentious tliaii naiTOw ; who encouraged his talents, by occasionally inviting him to be the companion of their looser hours ; and who were at times not ill pleased to direct the force of his wit and bumour, against those sacred things which they affected outwardly to despise as mere bugbears, wliile tliey could not help inwardly trembling before them, as realities. For a while, the native rectitude of his understanding, and Uie excellent prin- ciples in which his infancy had been educated, withstood every temptation to intemperance or impiety. Alas ! it was not always so. — When his heart was first struck by the chaniis of village beauty, the love he felt was pure, tender, simple, and sincei-e, as that of the youth and maiden in his Cottar's Saturday Night. If the ardour of his passion hurried him afterwards to triumph over the chastity of tlie maid he loved ; the tenderness of his heart, the manly honesty of his soul, soon made him offei-, with eager solicitude, to repair the injury by man-iage.' About this time, in the progress of his life and character, did he first begin to be distinguished as a poet. A masonic song, a satirical epigram, a rhyming epistle to a friend, attempted with success, taught him to know his own powers, and g.ave him confidence to try tasks more arduous, and which should conmiand still higher bursts of applause. The annual celebration of tbe sacrament of the Lord's Supper, in the rui-al parishes of Scotland, has much in it of those oltl maji, at the time when his book brought him into notice; though it must be acknowledged lie took his full share of farm labour of all kinds. Some of his best poems were written as ho was driving the plough over the leas of Mossgeil. ^ Burns was early distinguished for his admiration of the fair sex. One of his first and purest attachments was to a girl named Mary Campbell, who — the truth nmst be told. — was neither more nor less than the /lyres-xcoman or dair\-maid at Colonel JNlontgomery's house ot Coilsfield. He intended to marry this person, but she died at Greenock on lier return from a visit to her relations in Argyleshire. It is a strange instimce of the power of Burns' imagination and p;ii«ion, that he has celebrated this poor peasant girl in strains of altection and lamentiition, such us might have embalmed the memory of the proudest dame that ever ])uet worshipped. In his poem, beginning — " Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The Ciistle of Montgomerie," He describes in the most beautiful language their tender and final parting on the banivs of the Ayr. At a Utter jjeriod of life, on the anniversary of that hallowed day, he devoted a night to a poetic vigil in the open air, and produced his deeply pathetic elegy to her memory , commenciifg — " Thou lingering stjir, with lessening ray." And ail this beautiful poetry was written by a Scottish peiisant in reference to a byref-voman ; The attachment alluded to in the text was to Miss Jean Armour, the daughter of a mason in Mauchline. Burns proposed at first that their guilt should be palliated by a matrimonial union; but, as his (^ircumstiuices were desperate, his character not admired by the more sober and calculating villagers, and as he proposed to seek an establishment for his wife in a distiuit land, the father of his unfortunate partner preferred the alternative of keeping tier single and degraded, to permitting her to attach herself to the fortunes of her lover, even though a certain degree of respecliibility \wis to be secured by that course. It was not till after the poet had acquired fortune and fame by his writings, and, we l)lush to say, after a second transgression, that he was regulaily married. On both of these occasions the lady produced twins. — See Loclihiirl's Life of Hums. ROBERT BURNS. 445 jwpish festivals, in uhicli superstition, traffic, and amusement, used to be so strangely intermingled. J?urns saw, and seized in it one of the happiest of all subjects, to artbrd scope for tiie display of that strong and piercing sagacity tty which he could almost intuitively distinguish the reasonable from the absurd and the becoming from the ridiculous ; — of that picturesque power of fancy, wiiich enabled him to represent scenes, and persons, and groupes, and looks, altitude, and gesture, in a manner almost as lively and impressive, even in words, as if all the artifices aiid energies of the pencil had been employed; — of that knowledge which he had necessarily acquired of tiie mannei-s, passions, and prejudices of tlic nistics around him — of whatever was ridiculous, no less than cf whatever was atfe(;tingly beautiful, in rural life. A thousand prejudices of popish, and perhaps too, of ruder pagan superstition, have, from time imme- morial, been connected in the minds of the Scottish peasantry, with the annual recurrence of the Eve of the Festival of all the Saints, or Halloween. Tliese were all intimately known to Burns, and had made a powerful impression upon iiis imagination and feelings. He chose them for the subject of a poem, and produced a piece, which is the delight of those who are best acquainted with its subject ; and which will not fail to preserve the memory of the prejudices and usages which it describes, when they shall, perhaps, have ceased to give one merry evening in the year, to the cottage fireside, llie simple joys, the honest love, the sincere friendship, the ardent devotion of the cottage : wliatever in the more solemn part of the rustic's life is humble and artless, without being mean or unseemly — or tender and dignified, without aspiring to stilted grandeur, or to unnatural, buskined pathos — had deeply impressed the imagination of the rising poet; had in some sort \\Tought itself into the very texture of the fibres of his soul. He tried to express in verse, what he most tenderly felt, what he must enthusiastically imagined ; and produced the Cottar's Saturday Night. These pieces, the true effusions of genius, informed by reading and obsena- tion, and prompted by his own native ardour, as well as by friendly applause, were soon handed about among the most discerning of Burns' acquaintance ; and were by every new reader perused, and re-perused, with an eagerness of delight and approbation, which would not sutler him long to withhold them from the press. A subscription was proposed,^ was earnestly promoted by some gentlemen, who were glad to interest themselves in behalf of such signal poetical merit ; was soon crowded with the names of a considerable number of the inhabitants of Ayrsliire, who, in the proffered purcliase, sought not less to gratify their own passion for Scottish poesy, than to encourage the wonderful ploughman. At Kilmarnock, were the poems of Burns, for the first time, printed. The Avhole edition was quickly distributed over the country. It is hardly possible to express, with what eager admiration and delight thev were every where received. They eminently possessed all those qualities which can contribute to render any literary work quickly and permanently popular. They were ^\ritten in a phraseology, of A\hich all the po^\ei*s were universalK felt ; and which being at once antique, familiar, and now rarely \\Titten, was hence fitted to serve all the dignified and picturesque uses of poetry, without making it unintelligible. The imagery, the sentiments, were, at once, faith- fully natural, and iiresistibly impressive and interesting. Those topics of satire and scandal in which the rustic delights ; that humorous delineation of cha- racter, and that witty association of ideas, familiar and striking, yet not naturally allied to one another, which has force to shake his sides Avith laughter ; those fancies of superstition, at which he still wondei-s and trembles ; those ' It was ciiiefly in order to raise the means of tiaiisporting himself to the West Indieb, tliat Burns first published his poems. 440 ROBERT BURNS. nlTecting sentiments and images of ti'ue religion, which are at once dear and awful to his heart, were represented by Riirns with all a poet's nuigic power. Old and young, high and low, grave and gay, learned or ignorant, all were alike delighted, agitated, transported. I was at that time resident in Galloway, contiguous to Ayrshire, and 1 can well renieniber, how that even plough-boys and maid-servants would have gLidly parted with the wages which they earned the most hardly, and which they wanted to purchnse necessary clothing, if they might but procure the works of Burns. A copy happened to be presented from a gentlenmn in A^Tshire to a friend in my neighbourhood ; he put it into my hands, as a work containing some effusions of the most extraordinary genius. I took it, rather that I might not disoblige the lender, tlian from any ardour of curiosity or expectation. " An unlettered ploughman, a poet?" said I, Avith contemptuous incredulity. It was on a Saturday evening. I opened the volume, by accident, while I was undi-essing to go to bed. I closed it not, till a Late hour on the i-ising Sunday morn, after I had read over every syllable it contained. And, Ex illo Cor} don, Corydon est tempore nobis! — Virg. Ec. 2. In the meantime, some few copies of these fascinating poems found their way to Edinburgh : and one was communicated to the late amiable and ingenious Ur Tfiomas Blacklock. Tliere was, perhaps, never one among all mankind, whom you might more truly have called an angel upon earth, than Dr Blacklock : he was guileless and innocent as a child, yet endowed with nuinly sagacity and pene- tration ; his heart was a perpetual spring of overflowing benignity ; his feelings were all tremblingly alive to the sense of the sublime, the beautiful, the tender, the pious, the virtuous : — poetry was to him the dear solace of perpetual blind- ness; cheerfulness, even to gaiety, was, notwithstanding tliat ii'remediable misfortune under which he laboured, long the predominant colour of his mind : in his latter yeai-s, when the gloom might otherwise have thickened around him, hope, faith, devotion the most fervent and sublime, exalted his mind to heaven, and made him maintain his wonted cheerfulness, in the expectation of a speedy dissolution. This amiable man of genius read the poems of Burns witlt a nice perception, with a tremblingly impassioned feeling, of all their beauties. Amid that tumult of emotions, of benevolence, curiosity, admiration, which were thus excited in his bosom, he eagerly addressed some encouraging verses to the rustic bard ; which conveying the praises of a poet, and a judge of poetical composition, were much more grateful to Burns than any apphiuses he had before received from others. It was Blacklock's invitation that finally determined him to abandon his fii-st intentions of going abroad to the West Indies ; and rather to repair to Edinburgh, with his book, in hopes there to find some powerful patron, and perhaps, to make his fortune by his poetry. In tiie beginning of the winter 1786-S7,' Burns came to Edinburgh; by Dr BLacklock he was received with the most flattering kindness ; and was eagerly introduced to every pereon of taste and generosity among the good old man's friends. It was little that Blacklock had it in his power to do for a brother poet ; but that little he did with a fond alacrity, and with a modest gi-ace, which made it ten times more pleasing, and more effectually useful to him, in whose favour it was exercised, than even the very same sei-^ices would have been from almost any other benefactor. Others sion officiously interposed to shai'e with Blacklock, in the honour of patronising Burns. He had brought ' November, 17S6. ROBERT BURNS. 447 [ ♦ fioni liis Ayrsliire iVieiitls, some letters of rerommeiuLation : some of liis viiral juxiuaiiitauce coniiiia. as well as liiiiiself, to Edinburgh, for the winter, did liim what otKces of kindness they conveniently could.' Those very fe\v, who pos- sessed at once true taste and ardent philanthropy, were soon earnestly united in his praise : they who were disposed to favour any c^ood thing belonging to Scotland, purely because it was Scottish, gladly joined the cry; those who had hearts and undei-standing^ to be chanued, without knowing why, wlien they saw their native customs, niannci's, and language, made subjects and materials of poesy, could not sup])ress that voice of feeling which struggled to declare itself for Burns : for the dissipated, the licentious, the malignant wits, and the free- thinkei's he Avas so unfortunate as to have satire, and obscenity, and ridicule of things sa<'red, sufficient to captivate their fancies : even for the pious, he liad passages in which the inspired language of devotion might seem to come from his tongue : and then, to clmrm those whom nought can delight but wonders, whose taste leads them to admire only such things as a juggler eating fire, a person who can converse as if his organs of speecii were in his belly, a lame sailor writing with his toes for want of fingers, a peer or a ploughman making vei'ses, a small coal-man directing a concert — why, to those people the Ayi-shire poet might seem precisely one of the most wonderful of the wonders after which they were wont to gape. Thus did Burns, ere he had been many weeks in Edinburgh, find himself the object of universal curiosity, favour, admiration, and fondness. He was sought after, courted with attentions the most respectful and assiduous, feasted, flaitered, caressed, treated by all ranks as the first boast of our country ; whom it A\as scarcely possible to honour and reward to a degree equal to his merits. In comparison with the general favour which now pro- mised to more than crown his most sanguine hopes, it could hardly be called praise at all, which he had obtained in Ayrshire. In this posture of the poet's affairs, a new edition of his poems was earnestly called for ; he sold the copy-right to Mr Ci'eech, for one hundi'ed pounds ; but his friends, at the same time, suggested, and actively promoted a subscription for an edition, to be published for the benefit of the author, ere the bookseller's right should commence. Those gentlemen who had formerly entertained the public of Edinburgh with the periodical publication of the papers of the fllirror, having again combined their talents in producing the Lounger, were, at this time, about to conclude this last series of papers ; yet, before the Lounger relinquished his pen, he dedicated a number to a commendatory criticism of the poems of the Aj rshire bard. That criticism is now known to have been AM'itten by the Honourable lord Craig, one of the senators of the college of ju^- tice, Avlio had adorned the IMiiTor with a finely written essay, in recommend- ation of the poetry of Michael Bruce. The subscription-papers were rapidly filled ; the ladies, especially, vied with one another Avho should be the first to subscribe, and who should procure the greatest number of other subscjibers, for the poems of a bard who was now, for some moments, the idol of fashion. The Caledonian Hunt, a gay club, composed of the most opulent and fashionable young men in Scotland, professed themselves the patrons of the Scottish poet, and eagerly encouraged the proposed republication of his poems. Six shillings was all the subscription-money demanded for each copy ; but many voluntarily j)aid half a guinea, a guinea, or two guineas; and it was supposed that the poet ' He resided during tlie whole winter in the lodgings of one of his Maucliline acciuain- tiinces, Mr John llichmond, who had come to Edinburgh in order to study the law. One room and one bed sened both. It was from this humble scene in the Lawn'niarket, that he issued 10 attend the brilliant parties of the duchess of Gordon and other fashionables, and to this den he retired, after hours sjient amid the lustres of the most sjileiidid ajiartmcnts in tlie new towi). 448 ROBERT BURNS. « . mij^ht derive troiii tlie siilj.s(;ri[)tioii, and tlie sale ot" his copy-rij^ht, a clear proiit of, nl least, seven hundred jioiimls ; a sum that, t(» a man who had liilherio lived ill his indigent circiimslances, would be absolutely more tliaii the vainly expected ueaUh of Sir i:]pieen almost exclusively coiilined to contemplate theii- own studies and their \vorks. In conversation he displayed a sort of intuitive cpiickness /and rectitude of judgment upon every subject that arose. The sensibility of his heart, and the vivacity of his fancy, gave a ricii colouring to whatever reasoning he was disposed to advance ; and his language in conversation was not at all less happy than in his writings. For these reasons he did not cease to please immediately after he had been once seen. Those who had met and conversed with him once, were pleased to meet and converse with him again and again. I remember that the late Dr Robertson once observed to me, that he had scarcely ever met Avith any man whose conversation discovered greater vigour and activity of mind than that of Burns. l>ery one wondered that tlie rustic l)ard was not spoiled by so much caressing, favour, and flattery, as he found ; and evoi-y one went on to spoil him, by continually repeating all these, as if with an obstinate resolution, that they should, in the end, produce their effect. Nothing, however, of change in his manners appeared, at least for a while, to show that this was at all likely to happen. He, indeed, maintained himself, with considerable spirit, upon a foot- ing of equality with all >\hom he had occasion to asso(uate or converse with; yet he never arrogated any superiority, save what the fair and manly exertion of his powers, at the time, could undeniably command. Had he but been able to give a steady prel'erence to the society of the virtuous, the learned, and the wis3, rather than to that of the gay and the dissolute, it is probable that he could not have failed to rise to an exaltation of character and of talents fitted to do honour to human nature. Unfortunately, however, tiiat happened \vhich w.as natural in those unaccus- tomed circumstances in \vhich Burns found himself placed, lie could not assume enough of superciliousness to reject the familiarity of all those \vho, without any sincere kindness for him, importunately pressed to obtain his acquaintance and intimacy. He was insensibly led to associate less with the learned, and austere, and the rigorously temperale, than with the young, with the votaries of intem- perate joys, with persons to whom he was commended chiefly by licentious wit, and with whom he could not long associate without sharingr in the excesstjs of ROBERT BURNS, 449 -# their dabaucheiy. ' Even in tiie country, men ot this sort h.id begin to fasten on him. and to seduce him to embeliish the ij^ross pleas»i-es of their looser hours, with the charms of his wit and fancy. And yet 1 have been informed by Mr Arthur Bruce, a gentleman of great worth and discernment, to whom Burns was, in his earlier days, well kno-.vn, that he had, in those times, seen the poet steadily resist such solicitations and allurements to ex'cess in convivial enjoyment, as s«^arcely any otiier could have withstood. But the enticements of pleasure too often unman our virtuous resolution, even while we wear the air of rejecting them with a stern brow ; we resist, and resist, and resist ; but, at last, suddenly turn and passionately embrace the enchantress. The bucks *)f Edinburgh a<-- coniplished, in regard to Burns, that in which the boors of ilyi-shire had failed. .Vfter residing some months in iMlinburgii, he began to estrange liimself, not altogether, but in some measure, from the society of his graver friends. Too many of liis hours were now spent at tlie tables of persons who delighted to urge conviviality to drunkenness in the tavern, or even in less conmieudable society. He suffered himself to be surrDunded by a race of miserable beings, who were proud to tell that they had been in company with Burns; and had seen Burns as litose and as foolish as themselves. He was n:)t yet irrecoverably lust to tem- perance and moderation, but he w.os already almost too m i;rh captiviied witit these wanton revels, to be ever more won back to a faithful nttacimient to their more sober charms. He now also began to contract something of new arrogance in conversation. Accustomed to be, among his favourite assoc.ates, what is vid- garly but expressively chilled '"the cock of the company," he could scarcely re- fr.in from indulging in similar freedom, and dictatorial decision of talk, even in tiie presence of persons who could less patiently endure his presumption." Thus passed two winters, and an intervening summer, of the life of Bui-ns. The subscription edition of his poems, in the meantime, appeared ; and, al- though not enlarged beyond that which c;ime from the Kilmarnock press, by any new pieces of enunent merit, did not fail to give entire satisfaction to the sub- scribers. He at one time, during this period, accompanied, for a few weeks, into Berwickshire, Robert Ainslie, Esq. [Writer to the Signet], a gentleman ol the purest and most correct manners, ■* wlio Mas accustomed sometimes to soothe the toils of a laborious profession, by an occasional converse with polite litera- ' Burns came to Etlinbursh at an unfortunate time— a time of ereater Ueentiousness, perhaps, in all the capitals of Europe, and this northern one among the rest, than had been known for a long period. Men of the best education and rank at this time drank like the Scandinavian barbarians of olden time; and in general there was little refinement in the amusements of any class of the conmiunity. 2 With companions and friends, who claimed no superiority in anythin::, the sensitive mind of Burns must have been at its best and happiest, because corai>l telj at its ease, and free movement given to the play of all its feelings and faculties; an i, m such companies, we cannot but believe that his wonderful conversational powers shone forth in their most various splendour. He must have given vent there to a thousand familiar fancies, in all their freedom and all their force; which, in tne fastidious society of high life, his imagina- tion must have been too much fettered even to conceive; an! which, had they floweu from his lips, would either not have been understood, or would iu-.ve given offence to that delicacy of breeding which is often hurt even by the best manners of those whose manners are all of nature's teaching, and unsulijected to the salutary restraints of artificial life. . Indeed, we know that Burns sometimes burst suddenly and alarmingly tha restraints of " select society :" and that, on one occasion, he called a clergyman an idiot for misquot ng " Gray's Elegy"— a truth that ought not to have been promulgated iu presence of the parson, especially at so early a meal as breakfast ; and he confesses in his most confidential letters, though indeed he was then writing with some bitterness, that he never had been truly and entirely happy at rich men's feasts. If so, then, never could he have displayed there his genius in full power and lustre. — Professor Wilson, in "Land of Bums. ^ ^^ 3 Mr A iislie, who died iu l&JS, was the author of "A Father's Gift to his Children, and " Keaioiis for the Hope that is in us," both treating of the evidences of the Christian religion. I. 3l 4:50 " ROHERT BURNS. ture. aini Aviili general science. At anoth died within these few weeks, of a jaundice, with a complication of other complaints, the eflects of long continued intemperance ! So much did the zeal of friendship, and the ambition of honest fame, predominate in Mcol's mind, that he was, in his last houi:s, exceedingly pained by the thought, that since he had survived Burns, there remained none wlio might rescue his .mixed character from misre- presentation, and might embalm his memory in never-dying verse ! * In their excursion, Burns and his friend Nicol were natuially led to visit the interesting scenery adjacent to the uuke of Atholl's seat at Dunkeld, on the banks of the Tay. While they were at a contiguous inn, the duke, accidentally informed of i\lr Biu-ns' arrival so near, invited him, by a polite message, to Dun- keld House. Burns did not fail to attend his obliging inviter ; was received with flattering condescension ; made himself sufficiently agreeable by his con- ve.sation and mannei-s ; was detained for a day or two by his grace's kind hos- {>itahty ; and, ere he departed, in a poetical petition, in name of the river Bruar, which falls into the Tay, within the duke's pleasure grounds at Blair- Atliul, suggested some new improvements of taste, which have been since happily made in compliance with his advice. 1 relate this little incident, rather to do honour to the duke of Athol, than to Burns ; for, if I be not exceedingly mis- taken, nothing thai history can record of George the Third, will, in future times, be accounted more honourable to his memory, than the circumstances and the conversation of his well-known interview with Ur Johnson, 'ihe tw© congenial companions, Burns and Nicol, after visiting many other of those romantic, pic- turesque, and sublime scenes which abound in the Highlands of Scotland ; after fondly lingering hdie and there for a day or two at a favoui-ite inn, returned at last to Edinburgii ; and Burns was now to close accompts with his bookseller, and to retire with his profits in his pocitet to the country. i\Ir Creech has obligingly informed me, that the whole sum paid to the poet, for the copy-right, and for the subscription copies of his book, amounted to nearly eleven hundred pounds. Out of this sum, indeed, the expenses of print- ing the edition for the subscribers, were to be deducted. 1 have like»vise reason to ijjlieve, that he had consumed a much larger proportion of these gains than prudence could approve, while he superintended the impression, paid his court to his patrons, and waited the fiilj payment of the subscription money. He was now, at last, to fix upon a plan for future life, lie tabbed loudly of independence of spirit, and simplicity of manners : and boasted his resolution to return to the plough. Yet, still he lingered in Edinburgh, week after week, and month after month, perhaps expecting that one or other of his noble patrons might procure liim some peniianent and competent annual income, which should s;t him above all necessity of future exertions to earn for himself the means of subsistence ; perhaps unconsciously reluctant to quit the pleasures of that volup- tuous town life to wliidi he had for s)me time too willingly accustomed himseii; ROBERT BURNS. 451 An accitlental dislocation or ii-acture of an arm or a leg, which confined him for some weeks to his apartment, left him, during this time, leisure for serious reflec- tion; and lie determined to retire from the town, without longer delay. None of all his patrons interposed to divert him from his purpose of returning to the plough, by the offer of any small pension, or any sinecure place of moliller wished to turn him frou' dissolute conviviality, to that steady attention to tlie business of his farm, without which it was impossible to thrive in it. In the neighbourhood were other g-entlemen occasionally addicted, like 15iirns, to con- vivial excess ; who, while they admired the poet's talents, and were charmed with his licentious wit, forgot the care of his real interests in the pleasure which they found in his company, and in the gratification which tlie plenty and festi- vity of their tables appeai-ed evidently to afford him. With these gentlemen, Avhile disappointments and disgusts continued to multiply upon him in his present situation, he continued to diverge every day more and more into dissipation ; and his dissipation tended to eidiance whatever was disagreeable and pei-plcxing in the state of his affairs. He sunk, by degrees, into the boon-companion of mere excisemen ; and almost every drunken fellow, who was willing to spend his money lavishly in llie ale- iiouse, could easily connnand the company of Burns. The care of his farm was thus neglected ; waste and losses wholly consumed his httle capital ; he resigned his lease into the hands of his landlord ; and retired with his family to the town of Dumfries, determining to depend entirely for the means of future support upon his income as an exciseman. Yet during this unfortunate period of his life, which passed between his de- parture from Edinbutgh to settle in Dumfries-shire, and his leaving the country in order to take up his residence in the town of Dumfries, the energy and acti- vity of his intellectual powei-s appear to have been not at all impaired. He made a collection of Scottish song-s, which were published, with the music, by a Mr Johnston, an engraver, in Edinburgh, in three small volumes, octavo.' In making this collection, he, in many instances, accommodated new verses to the old tunes, with admirable felicity and skill He composed several other poems, such as the tale of Tam o' Shanter, the Whistle, Verses on a Wounded Hare, the pathetic Address to li * * * (J, * * * of F * * *, and some othei-s which he afterwards permitted Mr Creech to insert in the fourth and fifth editions of his poems." He assisted in the temporary institution of a small subscription library, for the use of a number of the well-disposed peasants, in his neighbourhootl He readily aided, and by his knowledge of geimine Scottish phraseology and man- ners, gi-eatly enlightened the antiquarian researches of the late ingenious Captain Grose. He still <;arried on an epistolary correspondence, sometimes gay, spor- tive, humorous, but always enlivened by bright flashes of genius, with a number of his old friends, and on a very wide divei-sity of topics.^ At times, as it should 1 Six thin vohimcs, coiiUiiiiiiig the most complete body of Scottish song and nmsic in exist- ence— entiiied, the Scottish ftlusiral Must-um. 2 Among the labours of this period of his life, and of the few remaining years, must be reckoned a hundred excellent songs, partly in Scotch and partly in English, which he contri- 'Kited to the musical publication of Mr George Thomson, which resemliled that of Johnston, but was more elegant and expensive, and contiiined accompaniments for the tunes by eminent •nodeni musicians. 3 Bums lent his muse on several occasions to aid the popular Cimdidates in contested eleo- tions. In one poem, which was handed about in manuscript, relating to such an atlair, he thus alluded to Dr Rluirhead, minister of Ur, in Galloway, a fellow rhymer :— " Armorial bearings from the banks of Ur, An old crab apple rotten at the core." This hit applied very well, for Dr M. was a little, wind-dried, unhealthy looking mannikin, very proud of tiis guiealog} , juid ambitious of being acknowledged on iill Ofcasions as the chief oi 454 ROBERT BURNS. seem fnim his writings of this period, he reflected with inexpressible heart-bit- terness, on tile high hopes from wiiich he iiad fallen ; on the eiTors of moral tondiict into whicii he had been hurried, by the ardom-, and, in some mea- sure, by tile very generosity of his nature ; on the disgrace and wretched- ness into which he saw himself rapidly sinking ; on the sorrow ^vith which his misconduct oppressed the heart of his Jane; on the want and destitute misery in wliich it seemed probable that he must leave her and her inl'ants ; nor, amidst these agonizing retlections, did he fail to look, with indignation lialf invidi- ous, half contemptuous, on those, who, with moral habits not more excellent than his, witli powers of intellect far inferior, yet basked in the simsliine of fortune, and were loaded with the wealth and honours of the world, while his follies could not obtain pardon, nor his wants an honourable supply. His wit became, from this time, more gloomily sarcastic; and his conversation and writings began to assume something of a tone of misanthropical malignity, by which they had not been before, in any eminent degree, distinguished. But, with all these failings, he was still that exalted mind which had raised itself above the depression of its original condition; Mitli all the energy of the lion, pawing to set t)-ee his hinder limbs from the incumbent earth, he still appeared not less the aixhangel ruined. What more remains there for me to relate? In Dumfries his dissipation be- came still more deeply habitual ;* he was here more exposed than in the coun- try to be solicited to share the riot of the dissolute and the idle ; foolish young men, such as writers' apprentices, young surgeons, merchants' clerks, and his brother excisemen, flocked eagerly about him, and from time to time pressed him to drink with them, that they might enjoy his wicked wit.^ His fi'iend the Muirhenrh ' He was not disposed, however, to sit downiwith the adVout: on the eontrar) > lie replied to it in a virulent diatribe, which we present to the reader for the firet time, ;is a remarkable specimen of clerical and poeticiil irritiibility, and curious, moreover, us perhaps the only contemporary satire upon Burns of which the world has ever heard— besides the im- mortal "trimming letter" from his tailor. Dr Muirhead's Jew cC esprit is in tlie shape of a translation from Martial's ode " Ail Vacerram :" " VacerrfLS, shabby son of whore, Why do thy jiatrons keep thee poor? Thou art a s\copiiant and traitor, A liar, a caluiniiialur. Who conscience, (liadst thou that,) wouldst sell, Na\", lave the common sewers of hell For whisky. — Eke, most precious imp, Thou a.vtii gaufier, rhymester, pimp. How comes it, then, Vacerras, that Thou still art poor iis a church rat?" ' Mr Lockhart, in his life of Burns, h;is laboured with much ingenuity and eloquence to show that the account which Heron gives of the latter yeare of the pout is considerably exag- gerated. AcA'ording to a series of documents quoted by Mr Lockhart, Burns, though latterly a dissipated man, was at no period remarkable for intemperance. The present author enter- tains no feeling upon this subject exr(!pt a regard for truth: he has therefore weighed in one scale the common report of the age following Uurns's own time, and the accounts tlien wrillt n, allot which were very unfavourable against the later narratives, in which his faidt-s are extcii- ualed or explained away ; and the result is a conviction in his own mind that, as the temptii- tions of Burns were great, so were his errors by no means little. He must acluiowledge thB,t he has always looked upon this question in adilTerent light from that in which it is viewed by other writers. Uegarding Burns altogether as a great moral wonder, he esteems his faults, whatever they were, as only the aa'ident of his character; and he would no more put them out of view in an estimate of the whole man, than would a physiologist overlook any slight malformation in some sphiudidly elegant subject. He therefore adopts Heron's accoimt — not without a perception that it is somewhat overdrawn, but also iissured, since it comes nwirest of an\ thing he has ever se( n to the reports of the greater number of witnesses, that it must be tlie nearest of all to the truth. * " To a lady, (I have it from herself,) who remonstniled with him on the danger from drink, and the pui-suits of some of his associates, he replied, 'Madam, they would not thank me for my company, if 1 did not drink with them; I must give them a slice of my constitu- tion." Letter from Bloomfield, the pnet, to the Earl of Jiuchan, Hdinburgh Monildy Maga %ine and Review, 1810. ROBERT BURNS, 455 Nicol made one or two autrunnal excursions to Dumfries ; and when they met in Dumfries, friendship, and genius, and wanton wit, and good liquor could never fail to keep Burns and Nicol toi^ether, till both the one and the otiier were as dead drunk as ever was Silenus. Tlie Caledonian Club, too, and the Dumfriesshire and Galloway hunt, had occasional meetings in Dumfries, after Burns came to reside there ; and the poet was, of course, invited to sliare their conviviality, and hesitated not to accept the invitation. The morals of the town were, in consequence of its becoming so much the scene of public amusement, deplorably corrupted ; and, though a husband and a father, poor Burns did not escape suffering by the general contamination.' Ln the intervals between his 1 Mr Robert Chambers, in his "Life and Works of Robert Burns" (1^''-'), observes, that "the charges brought against the poet on the score of intemperance have been proved to be greatly exaggerated. He was only the occasional boon companion, never the dram-drinker or the sot." Mr Chambers, as the result of his own inquiries into the habits of the poet, gives the following description of the daily routine of his Durnfi-ies life: — "So e.\istence flows on with Burns in this pleasant southern town. He has daily duties in stamping leather, gauging malt-vats, noting the manufacture of candles, and granting licenses for the transport of spirits. These duties he performs witii fidelity to the King and not too much rigour to the sui)ject. As he goes about them in the forenoon, in his respectahle suit of dark clothes, and with his little boy Robert ])erhaps holding by his hand and con.ersing with him on his school-exercises, he is beheld by tlie general public with respect, as a person in some authority, the head of a family, and also as a man of literary note ; and people are heard addressing him deferentially as Mr. Burns — a form of his name which is still prevalent in Dumfries. At a leisure-hour before dinner, he will call at some house where there is a inano, — such as INIr Newall, the writer's,— and there have some young jMiss to touch over for him one or two of his favourite Scotch airs, sucli as the ' Sutor's Daughter,' in order that he may accommodate to it some stanzas that have been humming through his brain for the last few diys. For another half-hour, he will be seen standing at the head of some cross street with two or three young fellows, bankers' clerks, or ' writer chiels ' commencing business, whom he is regaling with sallies of his bright but not always innocent wit — indulging there, indeed, in a strain of conversa- tion so different from what had passed in the respectable elder. y writer's mansion, that, though he were not the same man, it could not have been more different. Later in the day, he takes a solitary walk along the Dock Green by the river side, or to Lincluden, and composes the most part of a new song ; or he spends a couple of hours at his folding- dosvn desk, between the fire and window in his parlour, transcribing, in his bold round hand, the remarks \v+iich occur to him on Mr Thomson's last letter, together with some of his own recently-composed songs. As a possible variation upon this routine, he has been seen passing along the old bridge of Devorgilla Balliol, about three o'clock, with his sword-cane in his hand, and his black beard unusuady well shaven, being on his way to dine with John Syme at Ryedale, where young Mr Oswald of Auchincru.ve is to be of the party — or maybe in the opposite direction, to partake of the luxuries of John Bushby at Tinwald Downs, But we presume a day when no such attraction invades. The evening is passing quietly at home, and pleasant-natured Jean has made herself neat, and come in at six o'clock to give him his tea — a meal he always takes. At this period, how- ever, there is something remarkably exciting in the proceedings of the French army under Pichegru : or Fo.t, Adam, or Sheridan, is expected to make an onslaught upon the ministry in the House of Commons. The post comes into Duud'ries at ei^dit o'clock at night. There is always a group of gentlemen on the street, eager to hear the news. Burns saunters out to the High Street, and waits amongst the rest The Convention has decreed the annexation of the Netherlands — or the new treason bill h .s passed the House of Lords, with only the feeble protest of Bedford, Derby, and Lauderdale. These things merit some discussion. The trades-lads go oft' to strong ale in the closes; the gentlemen .-lide in little gr(jups into the King's Arms Hotel or the George. As for Burns, he will just have a single glass and :i half-hour's chat beside John Hyslop's fire, and then go quietly home. So he is quickly absorbed in the little narrow close where that vintner maintains his state. There, however, one or two friends have already established them- selves, all with precisely the same virtuous intent. They heartily greet the bard. Meg or John bustles about to give him his accustomed place, which no one ever disputes. And somehow, the debate on the news of the evening leads on to other chat of an interesting kind. Then Burns becomes brilliant, and his friends give him the applause of their laughter. One jug succeeds another — mirth abounds — and it is not till Mrs Hyslop has declared that they are going beyond all bounds, and she positively will not give them another dr.ip of hot water, that our bard at length bethinks him of returning home, where Bonnie Jean has bjcn lost in peaceful slumber for three hours, after vainly w-on- dering ' what can be keeping Robert out so late the nicht.' Burns gets to bed a little excited and worn out, but not in a state to provoke much remark from his amiable 4o6 ROBERT BURNS. different fits of intemperance, he suffered still Uie keenest anjjuish of remorse, and horribly afflictive foresi^l.t. His Jane still behaved with a degree of ma- ternal and conjugal tendeiii'si and prudence, which made him feel mure bitter- ly the evil of his misconduct, althouirh they could not reclaim hinL At last, crippled, emaciated, having the very power o! animation wasted by disease, quite broken-hearted by the sense of his errors, and of the hopeless miseries in which lie saw himself and his family depressed, with his soul still tremblingly alive to the sense of sliame, and to the love of virtue; even to the last feebleness, and amid the last agonies of expiring life, yielding readily to any temptation tliat oflered the semblance of intemperate enjoyment ; he died at Dumfries, on the 21st of >Tuly, 17'J(), while he was yet three or four years under tlie age of forty. After his death, it quickly appeared that his failings had not effaced from the minds of his more respectable acquaintance, either the regard which had once been won by his social qualities, or the reverence due to his intellectual talents. The circumstances of want in which he left his family, were noticed by the gentle- men of Dumfries, with earnest commiseration. His funeral was celebrated, by the care of his friends, with a decent solenniity, and with a numerous attendance of raournei's, sufficiently honourable to his memory.' Several copii.-s of verses, having, if no other merit, at least that of a good subject, wei"e inserted in dif- ferent newspapers, upon the occasion of his death. A contribution, by subscript tiou, was proposed, for the purpose of raising a small fund for the decent support of his widow, and the education of his infant children, 'litis subscription was very warmly promoted, and not without considerable success, by John SyiuC) Esq. of Dumfries, by Alexander Cuiuiinghani, lisq. W.S. Edinburgh ; and by Dr James Currie, and 3Ii- Koscoe, of Liverpool. Mr tJtephen Kemble, mana- ger of the Theatre lioyal, Edinbui'gh, with ready liberality, gave a benefit night for this generous purpose. 1 sliall conclude this paper with a short estimate of what appeai-s to me to have been Burns's real merits, as a poet and as a man : tlie most remarlvable quality he displa\ ed, both in his writings and his conversation, was, certainly, an enlarged, vigorous, keenly discerning, conscious comprehension of mintL What- ever be the subject of his vei-se, he still seems to gi-asp it with giant force ; to wield and turn it with easy dexterity ; to view it on all sides, with an eye which jio turn of outline and no hue of coloui-ing can elude ; to mark all its relations to the group of surrounding objects, and then to select ^^ hat he chooses ti represent to our imagination, with a skilful and happy propriety, which shows him to have been, at the same time, master of all the rest. It will not be very easy for any otlier mind, however richly stored with various know- ledge ; for any other imaginati(m, however el.istic and inventive, to find any new and suitable topic that lias been omitted by Burns, in celebrating the sub- partner, in whom nothing can abate the veneration with wliich she has all along regarded him. Ai)d thouk'h he beds at a latish hour, most likely he is up next morning between seven and eight, to hear little Koh.Tt his day'.s lessuii iti Casar, or, if the season invites, to take a half-iiour's blroll before breakfast along the favourite Docli Green." ' lie was buried with military honom-s by the Dumfries Volunteers, of which corps he had been a member. It had been one of the latest Hashes of his humour to re. Both are visited by thousands aanu^iUy. >rrs B'Tns died in 1834, in her sixty-eighth year. Tlu-ee of the poet's sons, viz., Robert, William, and James, yet (185'J) survive. ROREUT BURNS. 457 jects of all l»is "Toater and uioro el.ihoriite poems. It is impossihie to consider without astoiiisiinieiit, that amazing fertility of invoiitiou which is displayed, nn- dei- the regulation of a sound judgment, and a correct taste, in the Twa Dogs ; the Address to the Deil; Scot<;ii Drink; the Holy Fair; Hallowe'en; the Cottar's Saturday Night; To a Haggis; To a Louse ; To a 31ountain Daisy; Tam o' Shanter ; on Captain (irose's peregrinations ; the humble I'etition of Hruar Water; the Hard's I'pitiph. Shoemakers, footmen, thresliei-s. milk-maids, peers, staymakers, have all written vei"ses, such as deservedly attracted the no- tice of the world ; but in the poetry of these people, while there was conuuonly some genuine etiusion of tlie sentiments of agit;ite liad hinisell" felt witli keen eiiintions 'f pain or pleasure. You artiially see uliat lie describes; you more than syiupatliise with his jo\s ; your bosom is iiilLimed with all his lire ; your heai't dies away within you, infected by tJie contigion of his despondency. He exalts, for a time, the genius of his reader to the elevation of his own ; and, for tiie moment, confers upon him all the po\»ers of a poet. <)itude, that his ridicule turns. Other poets are often as remarkable for the incorrectness, or even the absurdity of their general truths, as for interesting sublimity, or tenderness of sentiment, or for picturesque splendour of imagery : Burns is not less happy in teaching general ti'uths, than in tliat dispby of sen- timent and imagei-y, which more jieculiarly belongs to the province of the poet. Biu-ns's morality deserves this high praise, that it is not a system merely of dis- cretion ; it is not founded upon any scheme of superstition, but seems to have always its source, and the test by Avhich it is to be tried, in the most diffusive benevolence, and in a regard for the universal good. '1 he only other lending feature of character that appears to be strikingly dis- played in the life and writings of Burns, is a lofty-minded cfinsciousness of his own talents and merits. Hence the llerce contemptuous asperity of his satire ; the sullen and gloomy dignity of his complaints, addressed, not so much to aliirm the soul of pity, as to reproach injustice, and to make fortunate baseness shrink abashed; that general gravity and elevation of his sentiments, which admits no liumbly insinuating sportiveness of wit, which scorns all compromise between the right and the expedient, which decides, with the authoritative voice of a judge, from whom tliere is no appeal, upon characters, principles, and events, whenever they present themselves to notice. J'rom his works, as from his conversation and manners, jjride seems to have excluded tlie ert'usions of vanity. In the com- ROBERT BURNS. 450 position, or correction of his poetry, he never sutlbred the jiif the writer of genius subdues the heart and the understanding, and having thus made the very spring of action its own, through them moulds almost all life and nature at its pleasure. Burns has not failed to conunand one remarkable sort of homage, such as is never paid but to great original genius — a crowd of poetastei'S jtarted up to imitate him, by writing verses as he had done, in the Scottish tlia- lect ; hut, () imital ores ! .tervum pecus ! To persons to whom the Scottish dialect, and the customs and manners of rural life in Scotland have no (^hai-nis, 1 shall possibly appear to have said too much about Burns : by those who 4G0 ROBERT BURNS. [hissioiiatelv ailmire him, 1 sli.ill, perli.ips, bo blamed, as having said too Ultk'.' ' The follow ing letter and poem by Burns were first published in the original edition of this work: — LETTEll TO MR BUR NESS, AT MONTROSE. .My Dear Sir, I lliis moment receive iiouis — receive it with the honest hospitable wr.rm'Ji of a friend's welcome. Whatever comes from >ou wakens ahvajs up the bitter blood about my heart, which 30ur kind little recollection!- of my parental friends carries ;is far as it will jvo". 'Tis there, Sir, that man is l)lest! 'lis there, my friend, mail feels a consciousness of something within him alxive the trodden clod! The gratefid reverence to the hoar\, wirthlv author of his being — the burning glow, when he clasps the woman of his soul to his liysiim" — the tender yearnings of heart for tile little .uigels to whom he has given existence, — these nature has poured in milky streams about the human hetirt; and the man who never louses them to action, by the inspiring influences of their proper objects, loses by far the most pleasurable part of his existence. M)- dejjarture is uncertain, l)ut I do not think it wll be till after han'est. I will be on vevy short allowance of time, indeed, if I do not comply with )our friendl) invitiition. Wlien it ^viU be I don't know, bul if 1 Gui make my wish good, 1 will endeavour to drop \ou a line sometime before. ]\ly best compliments toMre ■ ; I should [be] equally mortitied should I droj) in when she is abroad-, but of that, I suppose, there is little chance. What 1 have wrote, heaven knows; 1 have not time to review it: so accept of it in the beaten wa} of friendship. With the ordinary jihrase, perhaps, rathei- more than oidinary Bincerity, I am, dear Sir, ever )ours, tSac- BTosciEi., Tuesday noon, S-'jU. 26, 1786. ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CHILD O SWEET be thy sleep in the hind of the grave, M) dear little angel, for ever — For ever — oh no! let not man be a slave, His hojjes from existence to sever. Though cold bi! the ela\ where thou pillow'st thy head. In the dark silent mansions of sorrow. The s|)ring shall return to th\' low narrow bed. Like the beam of the da)-sUir to-morrow. The flower-stem shall bloom like thy sweet seraph form, Ere the Spoiler had nipt thee in blossom. When thou shruidi from the scowl of the loud winter storm. And nestled thee close to that bosom. O still I behold thee, all lovel} in death. Reclined on the lap of thy mother. When the tear trickled bright, when the short stifled bieath, TolJ how dear jc were aje to each other. M.\ child, thou ait gone to the home of thy rest, Where suliering no longer can harm thee, Where the songs of the good, where the hjmns of the blest. Through an endless existence sluill charm thee. While he, thy fond parent, must, sighing, sojouni Through the dire desert regions of sorrow, O'er the hope and misforiune of biing to mounij And sigh for this hfe's latest morrow. DAVID CALDERWOOD. 461 CALDERWOOD, David, an eminent divine and ecclesiastical historian. The year of his birth, tlie place of liis education, and the character of the family from which he was descended, are all alike unknown. The earliest ascer- tained fact of his life is his settlement, in 1604, as minister of Crailing, in Rox- l)iai>lishire. Ueing a zealous supporter of the principles of presbytery, he set himself with all his might to oppose the designs of the court, which aimed at the introduction of a moderate episcopacy. In 11)08, when the Bishop of Glasgow paid an official visit to the synod of Merse and Teviotdale, Mr Calderuood gave in a paper declining his jurisdiction. For this act of contumacy, he was con- fined for several years to his parish, so as to prevent his taking any share in the jiublic business of the cliurch. In the summer of IfilT, king .lajiies paid a visit to Scotland, for the purpose of urging forward liis episcopal innovations. On this occasion, while the parliament w;is considering how to intrust powers of ecclesiastical supi-omacy to the king, the clergy were convened to deliberate in a collusive manner, so that every thing might appear to be done with the consent and approbation of the churcli. This assemblage was attended by the bishops, who artected to consider it an imitation of the convocations of the English church. Calderwood, being now permitted to move about, though still forbidden to attend synods or presbyteries, appeared at this meeting, which he did not scruple to proclaim as in no respect a convocation, bsit simply a free assembly of the clergy. Finding himself opposed by some frienils of the bishops, Mr Calderwood took leave of them in a short but pithy speech, allusive to the sly attempts of the king to gain the clergy, by heightening their stipends : — " It was absurd," he said, " to see men sitting in silks and satins, ci-ying poverty in the kirk, while purity was departing." He .assisted, however, at another meeting of the clergy, where it was resolved to deliver a protest to paidiament, against a ])articular article, or bill, by which the power of framing new laws for the church was to be intrusted to an ecclesiastical council appointed Tjy the king. This protest was signed by IMr Archibald Simpson, .as representing all the rest, who, for iiis justification, furnished him with a roll containing their own signatures. One copy of the document was intrusted to a clergyman of the name of Hewat, who, having a seat in parliament, undertook to present it. Another remained with Ml- Simpson, in case of accident. 3Ir Hewat's copy h.aving been torn in a dis- pute with Archbishop Spottiswoode, 3Ir Simpson presented his, and was soon after called before the tyrannical court of High Counuission, .as a stirrer up of sedition. Being pressed to give up the roll containing the names of his abettors, he acknowledged it was now in the hands of 3Ir David Calderwood, who was then cited to exhibit the said roll, and, at the same time, to answer for his seditious and mutinous behaviour. The Commission court sat at St Andrews, and the king having come there himself, had the curiosity to examine IMr Calderwood in person. Some of the persons present came up to the peccant divine, and, in a friendly manner, counselled him to " come in the king's will,'' that his majesty might pardon him. But Mr Calderwood entertained too strong a sense of the propriety and importance of wh.at lie had been doing, to yield up the point in this manner. " That which w.as done," he said, " Av.as done with de- liberation." In the conversation which ensued betwixt the king and him, the reader will be surprised to find many of the most interesting points of modern liberty, .asserted with a firmness and dignity worthy of an ancient Roman. King What moved you to protest ? tG2 DAVID CALDRllWOOD. Calderwooif. An article concluded among liie bus of llie articles. King. But «liat fault was there in it ? Calclerwood. Jt <;utteth ort'our (jeneral Assemblies. King. (After iiujuiring Iiow Jong 3Ir Calderwood had been a minister,] Hear me, Mr David, I have been an older keeper of (ienerai .\ssemblies thar you. A General ^\sseuibly serveth to preserve do<-,trlne in purity, from eiTor_ and heresy, the kirk from schism, to make confessions of faith, to put up petitions to the king in parliament. But as for matters of order, rites, and things indif- ferent in kirk policy, tliey may be concluded by the king, with advice of bishops, and a choice number ol" ministers. Calderwood. Sir, a General Assembly should surve, and our General Assem- blies have seried these fifty-six years, not only for preserving doctrine from error and heresy, but also to make canons and constitutions of all rites and ordei-s be- longing to the kirk, .-Vs for the second point, as by a competent number of ministers m.ay be meant a General Assembly, so also may be meant a fewer number of ministers than may make up a General Assembly. Tlie king then challenged him for some worils in the protestation. Calderwood. Whatsoever was the phrase o!' speech, we meant nothing but to protest that we would give passive obedience to his majesty, but could not give active obedience to any unlawful thing wliich should tlow from that article. King. Active and p.assive obedience ! Calderwood. That is, we will rather suffer than practise. King. I will tell thee, man, what is obedience. The centurion, when he said to his servants, to this man, go, and he goeth, to that man, come, and he Cometh : that is obedience. Calderwood. To sulfer, Sir, is also obedience, ho wbeit, not of that same kind. And that obedience, also, was not absolute, but limited, with exception of a coun- termand from a superior power. Secretary. IMr David, let alone [cta.te'] ; confess your en-or. Calderwood. JMy lord, 1 cannot see that I have counuitted any fault. King. Well, Mr Calderwood, I will let you see that I am gracious and fa- voura!)le. That meeting shall be condemned before ye be condemned ; all tliat are in the file shall be filed before ye be filed, provided ye will conform. Calderwood. Sir, I have answered my libeL I ought to be urged no fur- thei*. King. It is true, man, ye have answered your libel ; but consider I am here ; I may demand of you when and what I wilL Calderwood. Surely, Sir, I get great ^vrong, if I be compelled to ansucr lieie in judgment to any more than my libel. King. Answer, Sir ! ye are a refractor : the Bishop of Glasgow, your ordi- nary, and the 15isliop of Caithness, the moderator of your presbytery, testify ye have kept no order ; ye have repaired neither to presbyteries nor synods, and in no wise confornu Calderwood. Sir, I have been confined these eight or nine years ; so uiv con- formity or non-conformity, in that point, could not be well known. King, dood faith, thou art a very knave. See these self-same puritans; they are ever playing uith equivocations. Finally, the King as'.ved, " If ye were relaxed, will ye obey or not ? Calderwood. Sir, 1 am wronged, in that I am forced to answer questions be- eide the libel; yet, seeing 1 must answer, I say. Sir, I shall either obey you, or give a re.ason wherefore I disobey ; and, if I disobey, your Majesty knows 1 am to lie under the danger as I do no.v. King. Tliat is, to obey either actively or passively. JOHN CALLANDER. 4G3 Calderwood. 1 can go no liuilier. lie was tlieu reuiovetl. ileing afterwards called up, and tlireatens I uiUi art of government in paying in pounds sterling an ar- I'iount which had been stated in Scots money. 1 lie estat« of Craigforth, which originally belonged to lord KIphinstone, > as, in It)'?!, purchased by 31r Alex- ander Hisrofins, an advocate, who became embanrnssed by the purdiase, and con- veyed his right to Callander, irom ^^hom he had obtained large advances of mone). From that period the estate has remained in the possession of the family, notwithstanding the strenuous, but unsuccessful exertions of Higgins to regain it ; and of this family the subject of the present memoir was the repre- sentative.' Of his private history, very- little has been collected : nor would it probably liave much interest to our readers.'' The next work published by him was " Terra Australis CogTiita, or Voyages to the Terra Australis, or Southern Hemisphere, durinj the IGth, 17th, and ISth centuries,"' Edinburgh, I7G6 ; 3 Tols. Svo., a work translated from the French of De Hrosses. It was not till thirteen years afterwards that he gave to the world his " Essay towards a literal English \'ersion of the New Testament in the Epistle to the Ephesiaris," printed in quarto at (jlascfow, in 177y. This very singular prcdi'ction proceeds upon the principle of adhering rigidly to the order of the dreek words, and abandon- ing entirely the English idiom. As a specimen of the trarsLition, the 31st verse of chapter v. is here transcribed. " Be«:ause of this shall leave a man, the father of him, and the mother, and he shall be joined to the wife of him, and they shall be even the two into one flesh." The notes to the work are in Greek, " a proof, certainly," as has been judiciously remarked, " of 31r Callander's learn- ing, but not of his \nsdom." — ( Onne's Bibliotlieca Biblica. p. 74. ) After it followed the work by which ]Mr Callander is best known : " Two ancient Scot- tish poems ; the Gaberlunzie 3Ian, and Christ's Kirk on the Kreen, with notes and observations." Edin. I 782, ^vo. It would seem that he had for some time meditated a dictionary of the Scottish Linguatre, of which he intended this as a specimen, but which he never prepared f c r publicaticn. His principle, as an et\ aiologist, which consists " in derivinj the words of every lang-uaee from the radical sounds of the first or original tongue, as it was spoken by Noah and tiie builders of Babel," is generally considered fanciful, and several instances have been given by Chalmers and others of the absurdity of his derivations. It is to be regretted, tliat, in preparing these poems for tlie press, he should have adopt- ed so incorrect a text In editing the latter of the two, he neither cf>nsulted the Bannatyne 3LS. , nor adhered strictly to the version of bishop Gibson or .\llan Kamsay, but gave " such readings as appeared to him most consonant to the phraseology of the sixteenth century." Throughout the work he was in- debted to his friend .Mr George I'aton, of Edinburgh : but it would appear, from one of ilie letters lately piiblishe I, that the latter is not to be considered respon- sible either tor the theories which the work contains, or for the accuracy with which it was executetl. In April, 17 'si, 3Ir Callander was, without any solicitation on his part, elect- ed a fellow of the Society of Santish Antiquaries, which had been formed in the preceding .November, by the late earl of Buchau ; and in the first list of otficc- ' Litters from Bishop Percy, &c. to Giorge Paton. Preface, p. viii. * Though a member of the Scottish bar, the early part of his life seem* to liiive.betn devoted to classiCiJ pursuits; in which it is acknowK-dged, he made great proficienc;.. A considera- ble portion of tiie results of these studies were presented b_\ him to the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, in August, I7S1. His .MSS., which are entitled, " Spidlepia Antiquitaiis Graecae, sive ex Veteriuus Pueiis Deperdita Fragmenta," arein five volurries, folio. The same reseiirehes were aftt-rwards directed to the illustration of Milton's •' Paradise Lost," of wUch a specimen, containing his annotations on the first book, wvis printed at Glasgow, by Messrs Fouiis, in 1750, i\t". [ip. 167.; ()t'ttii->e nol.s m. afciKint wil; after.vaids be giv fiom Tiiomas Peirv, DD. aftcrwanis Bishop of Dromore, Jolui Callander, of Craig i'u.tli, Esq., David Herc!,"iUKl otlais. to George Paton." Edinburgh, IS.^U, 12mo, p. X. I. 3 N 466 mCHARU CAMERON. Livingston of Weshiuarlof, he had seventeen childi-en. His great-grandson is at prese!!t in possession oi' the estate." CA3iER0N, Hichahd, an eminent martyr of the Scottish church, and whose name is still retained in tlie popular designation of one of its sects, was the son of a small shopkeeper at Falkland in Fife. His first appearance in liie was in the capacity of schoolmaster and precentor of tj\at parish under the episcopal clergyman. But, being converted by the field preachers, he afterwards became an enthusiastic votary of the pure presbyterian system, and, resigning those ofii"dte life, did not leach that point of perfection which the public demands of those who expect to derive bread from their practice of the fine ails. Even in music, it was the opinion of eminent judges, that Albyn's Anthology would have been more t'avourably received, if the beautiful original aii"s liad been left unencmubered with the basses and symphonies which the editor himself thought esseniiaL 3Ir Campbell, in early life, had been possessed of a handsome person, and a lively and social dispos tion. Gifted, as he then was, with so nmny of these accomplishments which are calcukited to give a cliaim to existence, it might liave been expected tliat his life would liave been one of happiness and prcs- perity. It was in every respect the reverse. Some unhappy misunderstanding with the relations of his second wife led to a separation between them, and two individuals, who, united, could liave promoted each ether's happiness, lived for ever after apait and miserable. A numerous ti-ain of disappointments, not exclusively literary, tended further to embitter the declining yeai"s of this tuifortur.ate uwn of genius. Yet his OAvn distresses, and they Avere numerous. AUCHIBALl) CAMPBELL. 4G9 both from disease and diiUculty of circunistaiices, could nover either break his spirits, or chill his interest in the happiness of his friends. If he had the foibles of a keen temper, lie was free from the laults of a sullen and cokl dispo- sition. After experiencing- as many of the vicissitudes of life as fall to the kt of most men, he died of apoplexy on the 15th of May, lS-24, in the sixty-first year of his age. CAMPBELL, Archibald, Marquis of Argyle, an eminent political character of the seventeenth century, born in 1598, uas the son of Archibald, seventk earl of Aro-yle. He was caret"iilly educated in a manner suitable to the important place in society, which his birth distincd him to occupy. Having been well grounded in the various branches of classical knowledge, he added to these, an attentive perusal of the holy scriptures, in consequence of wiiich his mind became at an early period deeply imbued with a sense of religion, which, amidst all the vicis- situdes of an active and eventful life, became stronger and stronger till his dying day. lliere had long been an hereditary feud subsisting between his family and the clan of the JMacdonalds, against whom he accompanied his father (ui an expedition in the year I (5 10, being then only in the eighteenth year of Iiis age ; and two years afterwards, his father having left the kingdom, the care of tho Highlands, and especially of the protestant interest there, devolved almost entirely upon him. In lfi26, he was sworn of his majesty's most honourable privy council, and in 1628, surrendered into the hands of the king, so far as lay in his power, the office of justice general in Scotland, which had been here- ditary in his family, but reserving to himself and his heirs the otlice of justiciary of Argyle, and the Western Isles, which was confirmed to him by act of parlia- ment. In 1633, the earl of Argyle having declared himself a Roman Catholic, was commanded to make over his estate to his son by the king, reserving to himself only as much as might support him in a manner suitable to his quality during the remainder of his life. Lord Lome, thus prematurely possessed of political and territorial influence, was, in 1634, appointed one of the extraor- dinary lords of Session ; and in the month of April, 1638, after the national covenant had been framed and sworn by nearly all the ministers and people of Scotland, he was summoned up to London, along with Traquair the treasurer, and Roxburgh, lord privy seal, to give advice with regard to what line of con- duct his majesty should adopt under the existing circumstances. They were all equally aware that the covenant was hateful to the king ; but Argyle alone spoke freely and honestly, recommending the entire abolition of those innova- tions which his majesty had recklessly made on the forms of the Scottish church, and which had been solely instrumental in throwing Scotland into its present hostile attitude. Traquair advised a temporizing policy till his majesty's affairs should be in a better condition ; but the bishops of Galloway. Ross, and Ih-echin insisted upon the necessity of strong measures, and suggested a plan for raising an army in the north, that should be amply sufficient for asserting the dignity of the crown, and repressing the insolence of the covenanters. This alone was the advice that was agreeable to his majesty, and he followed it out with a blindness alike fatal to himself and the kingdom. The earl of Argyle, being at this time at court, a bigot to the Romish faith, and friendly to the designs of the king, advised his majesty to detain the lord Lome a prisoner at London, assuring him that, if he was permitted to return to Scotland, he would certainly do him a mischief. But the king, supposing this advice to be the fruit of the old man's irritation at the loss of his estate, and probably afraid, as seeing no feasible pretext for taking such a violent step, allowed him to depart in peace, iie returned to Edinburgh on the twentieth of May, and was one of the last of the Scottish nobility that signed the national covenant, which he did not do till 470 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. he was commanded to do it by the kiug. His father dying this same jear, he succeeded to all his honours, and tlie remainder of his property. During the time he mtis in London, Anryle «iis certainly informed of the plan that liad been already concerted for an invasion in Scotland by the Irish, under the marquis of Antrim, who for the part he performed in tluit tragical drama, was to be rewarded with the whole district of Kintyre, which formed a principal pait of the family patrimony of Argjle. Iliis partitioning of his property without havinjr been either asked or given, and for a purpose so nefaiiniis, must hare had no small influence in alienating from the court a man who isad imbibed high principles of honour, had a strong feeling of family dignity, and was an ardent lover of his countrj-. He did not, however, take any decisive step till the assembly of the church, that met at Glasgow, November the twenty fii-st, 1G3S, under the auspices of the marquis of Hamilton, as lord high commissioner. When the marquis, by protesting against everj" movement that was made by the court, and finally by attemptinj to dissolve it the moment it came to enter upon the business for which it had been so earnestly solicited, discovered that he «.is only playinsr the srame of the kin«f : Arsr%le, as well as several (tther <;f the young nobility, could no longer refrain from taking an active part in the work of Keformation. On the withdi-awal of the commissioner, all the privy council followed him, except Arar>le, whose presence gave no small encouragement to the assembly to continue its deliberations, besides that it impressed the specta- toi-s with an idea that the sfovemment could not be greatly averse to the con- tinuation of the assembly, since one of its most able and influential members encouraged it with his presence. At the close of the assembly, 3Ir Henderson the moderator, sensible of the advantaares thev had derived from his presence, complimented him in a handsome speech, in which he regretted that his lordship luid not joined with them sooner, but hoped lliat God had reserved him for tlie best times, and that he would yet highly honour him in making him instru- mental in proraotine the best interests of his church and people. To this his lordship made a suitable reply, declarinj that it was not from the want of af- fection to the cause of God and his country that he had not sooner come for- ^vard to their assistance, but fi-cm a fond hope that, by remaining with the court, he might have been able to brinsr about a redress of their grievances, to the comfort and satisfaction of both parties. Finding, however, that it was imj>os- sible to follow this course any lonsfer, without being unlaitliful to his God and his country, he had at last adopted the line of conduct they witnessed, and \»hich he was happy to find had obtained their approbation. This assembly, so remarkable for the bold cliaracter of its acts, all of which were liable to tlie charge of treason, sat t^venty-six days, and in that time accomplished all that had been expected Irom it. The six previous assembhes. all that had been held since the accession of James to the English crown, were unanimously de- clared unlawful, and of course all their acts illegal In that held at Linlithgow 1606, all the acts that were passed were sent down from the court ready framed, and one appointing bishops constant moderators, was clandestinely inserted among them without ever having been brought to a vote, besides that eight of the most able ministers delegated to attend it, were forcibly prevented in an il- legal manner by the constituted authorities from attending. In that held at Glasgow in IGOS, nobles and barons attended and voted by the simple mandate of the king, besides several members from presbyteries, and tiiiileen bishops who had no commission. Still worse was that at Abertlteu 1616, where the most shameful bribery- was openly practised, and no less than sixteen of his creatures were substituted by the primate of St Andrews for sixteen lawfully chosen commis- sioners. Tliat which followed at St Andrews was so notoriously illegal as nevei ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 471 to have found a tlefeiuler; and the most noxious of ail, tliat at rerth in l(jl9, was informal and disorderly in almosl all possible respects. The chair was assumed by tiie arclibishop of St Andre\vs without any election ; members, how- ever regularly chosen and attested, that were suspected not to be favourable to \ith the army, and lie was put under arrest. To ruin Argylo, who was the object of bis aversion, 31ontrose no^v reported, tiiat at the Ford of Lyon be had said that the covenanters had consulted both lawyers and divines anent deposing the king, and had gotten resolution, that it might be done in three cases — desertion, invasion, and vendition, and that they had re- solved, at tlie last sitting of parliament, to accomplish that object next session. For tills mali<;ious falsehood 31ontrose referred to a -Mr .Tohn Stuart, commissary of Dunkeld, who upon being cpiestioned retracted the accusation uliich he owned lie had uttered out of pure malice, to be revenged upiiii Argyle. .Stuart was, of coui-se, prosecuted before the justiciary for leasinff-inakinff, and, tbough he pro- fessed the deepest repentance for his crime, was executeti. The king, though he had made an agi'ecment with bis Scottish subjects, was getting every (biy upon worse terms with the English, and in the summer of I <) 41, came to Scotland with the view of engaging the ati'ections of that kingdom to enable him to oppose the parliament with the more etlect. On this occasion bis majesty displayed great condescension ; he appointed Henderson to be one of bis chaplains, attended divine service without either service-book or ceremonies, and was liberal of bis fiivours to all the leading covenanters. Argyle was on this occasion particularly attended to, together with the marrjuis of Hamilton, and bis brother Lanark, both of whom had become reconciled to the covenanters, and admitted to their full sliare of power. l\lontrnse, in the meantime, was under confinement, but was indefatigable in his attempts to ruin those wboni be supposed to stand be- tween him and the object of his ambition, the sujjreme direction of public af- fairs. For the accomplishment of this lUirling purpose, he proposed nothing less than the assassination of the earls of Argyle and Lanark, with the marquis of Hamilton. Finding that the king regarded his proposals with liorror, he conceived the gentler design of arresting these nobles during the night, after being called upon pretence of speaking with him in his bed-chamber, when thoy might be delivered to a body of soldiers prepared under the eai'l of Crawford, who was to c^arry them on board a vessel in l^eith lioads, or to assassinate them if they made any resistance ; but, at all events, detain them, till his majesty had gained a sutiicient asc/,ndaiicy in the country to try, condemn, and execute them under colour of la^v. Colonel Cochrane was to have marched with his regiment from Musselburgh to ovei'awe the city of lulinbui-gh : a vigorous attempt was at *he same time to have been made by 31ontrcise to obtain possession of the cas- tle, which, it was sup])nsed, would have been the full consummation of their purpose. In aid of this ]>lot, an attem|)t was made to obtain a declaration for the king from the Knglish army, and the aitholics of Ireland were to have made a rising, which they actually attempted on the same day, all evidently under- taken in concert for the promotion of the royal cause — l)ut all of which had the contrary ctVect. Some one, invited to take a part in the plot against Argyle and the Hamiltons, communicated it to colonel Hurry, who communicated it to general Leslie, and he lost not a moment in warning the persons more immediately con- ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 473 irerned, who took proraiitioiis lor tlieir security the ensiiira^ nig^t, and, next iiioriiiiiir, after wxiting an apology to the king for their corduct, d«>d to Kiniel H ruse, in West Lothian, wliore tiie mother of the two Haniiltonsat tliat lime re- sided. The eity of Edinbirgh was thrown into a state of the utmost alarm, in consequence of all the leading covenanters judging it necessary to have guards placed upon their houses for the protection of their pei-sons. In the afternoon, the king, going up the main street, was followed by upwards of five hundred armed men, who entered the outer hall of the Parliament house along with him, which necessarily increased the confusion. 'Ihe house, alaraied by this military array, refused to proceed to business till the command of all the troops in the city and neighbourhood was intrusted to general Leslie, and every stranger, whose character and business was not particularly known, ordered to leave the city. His majesty seemed to be highly incensed against the three nobleuicn, and demanded that tliey should not be allowed to return to the house till the matter had been thoroughly investigated. A private committee was suggested, to which the investigation might more properly be submitted than to the Mhole house, in which suggestion his majesty acquiesced. The three noblemen re- turned to their post in a few days, were to all appearance received into their former state of favour, and the wliole matter seemed in Scotland at once to have droppad into oblivion. Intelligence of the whole affair was, however, sent up to the English Parliament by their agents, who, under the name of (commissioners, attended as spies upon the king, and it had a lasting, and a most pernicious ef- fect upon his aHairs. This, and the ne«s of the Irish insurrection, which speedily foUoMcd, caused his majesty to hasten his departure, after he had feasted the whole body of the nobility in the great hall of the palace of Holyrood, on the seven- teenth of November, 1641, having two days before created Argyle a marquis. On his departure the king declared, that he went away a contented prince from a contonted people. He soon found, however, that nothing under a moral as- surance of the protection of their favourite system of worship, and church go- vernment— an assurance which he had it not in power, from fonner circum- stances, to give — could thoroughly secure the attachment of the Scots, who, to use a modei-n phrase, were more disposed to fraternize with tJie popular party in England, than Avith him. Finding on his return tluit the Parliament was get- ting more and more intractable, he sent down to the Scottish privy council a representation of the insults and injuries he had received from that parliament, and the many encroachments they had made upon his prerogative, with a re- quisition that the Scottish council would, by commissioners, send up to West- minster a declaration of the deep sense they entertained of the danger and in- justice of their present course. A privy council Avas accordingly summoned, to which the friends of the court were more particularly invited, and to this meet- ing all eyes wei-e directed. A ninuber of the friends of the court, Kinnoul, Roxburgh, and others, now known by the name of Banders, having assembled in the capital with numerous retainers, strong suspicions were entertained that a design upon the life of Argjle was in contemplation. The gentlemen of i^'ife, and tiie Lothians, with their followei's, hastened to the scene of action, where the high royalists, who had expected to can-y matters in the counccil against the English Parliament, met with so much opposition, that they abandoned their purpose, and the king signified his pleasure that they should not interfere in the business. When hostilities had actually commenced between the king and the parliament, Argyle was so far prevailed upon by the marquis of Hnmiltcm, to trust the asseverations which accompanied his majesty's expressed wishes for peace, as to be willing to second his proposed attempt at negotiation witli tlie Parliament, and he signed, along with Loudon, Warriston, and Henderson, I ho I. 3 o 474 ARCTHBALD CAMPBELL. invitation, framed by the <;ourt party, to the queen to return from Holland, Ui assist in mediating a peace between bis majesty and tlie two lioiises of Parlia- ment. 'Ibe battle of lidi>ehill, liowever, so inspirited the king, that he re- jected the otl'er on tlie pretence that lie durst not hazard her person. In lf)42, when, in compliance with tlie request of the rariiament of England, troops were raised by the ticottish estates, to aid the protostants of Ireland, Argyle was nominated to a colonelcy in one of the regiments, ;ind in the month of January, 1644, he accompanied general Leslie, with the Scottish army, into England as chief of the conuuitlee of I'arliament, but in a short time returned with tidings of tlie defeat of the marquis of Newcastle at Newburn. The ultra royalists, highly olfended at the assistance allbrded by the estates of Scotland, to the Parliameut of England, had already planned and begun to execute difiex'ent inovenienis in the norlb, ^vhich they intended should either overthrow the Estates, or reduce them to the necessity of recalling their army from England for their own defence. The marquis of Huntly having received a commission from Charles, had already commenced hostilities, by making prisoners of the provost and magistrates of Aberdeen, and at the same time plundering the town of all the arms and ammunition it containeiL lie also published a declaration of hos- tilities against the covenanters. Earl Marischal, appi'ized of this, summoned the committees of Angus and Mearns, and sent a message to Huntly to dismiss his followers. Huntly, trusting to the assurances he hnd had from Montrose, Crawford, and Nithsdale of assistance Irom the south, and from Ireland, s nt an insulting reply to the committee, requiring them to dismiss, and not interrupt the peace of the country. In the month of April, Argyle was despatched against him, with what troops he could raise for the occasion, and came unexpectedly upon him after his followers had plundered and set on hre the town of JMontrose, whence they i-etreated to Aberdeen. Thither they were followed by Argyle, who, learn- ing that the laird of Haddow, with a number of his friends, had fortified them selves in the house of Killie, marched thither, and invested it with his army. Unwilling, liowever, to lose time by a regular siege, he sent a trumpeter oftering pardon to every man in the garrison who should surrender, the laird of iiaddow excepted. Seeing no means of escape, the gai-rison accepted the terms. Had- dow was sent to Edinburgh, brought to trial on a chai-ge of treason, found guilty, and executed. Huntly, afraid of being sent to his old quarters in Edin- burgh castlo, repaired to tiie 15og of Cight, .iccompanied only by two or three individuals of his own clan, whence he brought ;iway some trunks filled with silver, gold, and apparel, which he intrusted to one of his followers, who, find- ing a vessel ready to sail for Caithness, shipped the trunks, and set off with them, leaving the mai'quis to shift for himself. 'Ihe marquis, \vho had yet one thou- sand tlollars, committed them to the ciire of another of his dependants, and tak- ing a small boat, set out in pursuit of the trunks. On landing in Sutherland he could command no better accommodation than a wretched ale-house. Next day he proceeded to Caithness, where ho found lodgings with his cousin-german, Francis Sinclair, and most unexpectedly fell in with the runaway and his boxes, with which by sea he proceeded to Strathnaver, where he remained in close re- tirement for upwards of twelve months. In the meantime, about twelve hmidred of the promised Irish auxiliaries, under Alaster 31acdonald, landed on the island of Mull, where they captured some of the snuiU fortresses, and, sailing for the mainland, they disembarked in Knoydart, where they attempted to raise some of the clans. Ai'gyle, to whom this Alaster Macdonald was a mortal enemy, having sent round some ships of war from Leith, which seized the vessels that had transported them over, they were unable to leave the country, and he him- self, with a formidable force, hanging upon their rear, they were driven into ARCiilliALD GAMPEELL, 475 the interior, anfl traversed the wilds ot' Loduiher and iiadeiioch, expectiii<^ to meet a royal army under Montrose, though in what place Ihey had no know- ledge. Macdonald, in order to strengthen them in numbers, liad sent through the fiery cross in various directions, though with only indifferent success, till I\lontrose at last met them, having found his way through the country in disguise all the way from Oxford, with only one or two attendants. Influenced by Mon- trose, the men of Athol, who were generally anti-covenanters, joined the royal Btandiird in great numbers, and he soon found himself at the head of a formid- able army. His situation was not, however, promising. Arg-yle was in his rear, being in pui-suit of the Irish, who were perfect banditti, and had connnitted ter- rible ravages upon his estates, and there were before him six or seven thousand men under lord Elcho, stationed at Perth. Elcho's troops, however, were only raw militia, ofiicered by men who had never seen an engagement, and the lead- ers among them were not unjustly suspected of being disafi'ected to the cause. As tile most prudent measure, he did not wait to be attacked, but went to meet 3i(>ntrose, who was marching through Strathearn, having commenced his wireer by plundering the lantls, and burning the houses of the clan Menzies. Elcho took up a position upon the plain of Tippermuir, where he was attiicked by Montrose, and totally routed in the space of a few minutes. Perth fell at once into the hands of the victor, and was plundered of money, and whatever was valuable, and could be carried away. The stoutest young men he also impressed into tlie ranks, and seized upon all the horses fit for service. Thus strength- ened, he poured down upon Angus, where he received numerous reinforcements. Dundee he attempted, but finding there were troops in it sisfHcient to hold it out for some days, and di-eading the approach of Argyle, who was still following Jiim, he pushed north to Aberdeen. Here his covenanting rage had been bit- terly felt, and at his approach the committee sent off the public money and all their most valuable effects to Dunnottar caatle. They at the same time threw up some rude fortifications, and had two thousand men prepared to give him a warm reception. Crossing the Dee by a ford, he at once eluded their fortifications and deranged their order of battle ; and is>uing orders for an inuuediate attack, they were defeated, and a scene of butchery followed Avhich has i'ew parallels in the annals of civilized wai'fare. In the fields, the streets, or the houses, armcain into the wilds of iiadenoch, where he expected Macdonuld and the Irisli witii ^vhat recruits they had been able to raise. Argyle, whose army ^vas now greatly weakened by desertion, returned to Edinburgh and tlu-ew up his conmiission in disgust. 'Ihe Estates, however, i-eceived liim in the most friei.dly nuuiner, and passed an act approving of his conduct. By the parliament which met tliis year, on the 4tli of June, Argyle was named, along with the chancellor Loudoun, lords Bahnerino, Warriston, and others, as connnissi oners, to act in concert with the English parliament in tlieir nego- tiations with the king ; but from the manner in which he Avas occupied, he must have been able to overtake a very small part of the duties included in the commission. IMontrose no sooner found that Argyle had retired and loft the field clear, tlian, to keep up the spirit of his followers, and to satiate his revenge, he narched them into Glenorchy, belonging to a near relation of Ai'gyle, and in the depth of winter rendered the wiiole counti-y one wide field of blood : nor was this destruction confined to Glenorchy ; it was extended through Argyle and Lorn to the Aery confines of Locliaber, not a house he Av;ts able to surprise being left unburned, nor a man unslaughtered. Spalding adds, " he left not a foui-lboted beast in the haill country ; such as would not drive he houghed and slew, tiiat they sliould never make stead." Having renderele opposed it, because, from wliat he had been told by the duke of Richmond and the marquis of Hertford, when he had himself been lialf embarked in a scheme somewhat similar, he believed it Avould be the total ruin of his majesty's cause. The event completely justified his fears. By exasperating the sectaries and republicans, it was the direct and iimnediate cause of the death of the king. On the march of the En£ras:ers into England, Arsiyle, Eglinton, Cassilis, and Lothian, marched into Ediuburffh at the head of a gieat multitude of people whom they had raised, before whom the committee of Estates left the cir\ , and the irre- mediable defeat of the Ejigagers, wlvich instantly followed, entirely sinking the credit of the party, they never needed to return, the reins of government falling uito the liands of Arg^le, Warriston, Loudon, and others of the more zealous party of the presbxierians. The liight of the few Engasrers who reached their native land, was followed by Cromwell, who came all the wTiy to Berwick, with the purpose apparently of invading Scotland- Arg\le, in the month of September or October, 1(14'^, went to 3Iordington, where he had an interview with that distinsfuished individual, whom, along with general Lambert, he conducted to Edinburffh, where he m^is received in a xvay worthy of his hijh fame, and even," thinsr between the two nations was settled in the most amitable manner, t!ie Solemn Leasrue and Covenant beinj renewed, the Engagement proscribed, and all who had been concerned in it summoned to appear before parliament, which was appointed to meet at Edinbursfh on the 4th of January-, 1649. It has been, without the least particle of evidence, asserted that Argyle, in the various interviews he held with Cromwell at this time, agreed lliat Charles should be executed. The losses to which Argyle wns afterwards subjected, and the liardships he endured for adhering to Cliarles' interests after he was laid in his grave, should, in the absence of all evidence to the conirar)", be a sutiicient attestation of his loyalty, not to speak of the parliament, of which he ^^as unquestionably the most influential individual, in the ensuing- month of February prtxJaiming Cliarles 11. king of ScotUind, England, France, and Ireland, ice than which notliinsr could be more olfensive to the then existing arovernment ot EngLind. In sending over the deputation that ^Tiited upon Charles in Holland ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. 479 in the spi-iiig- of Kil!), Avgyle was heartily concurriii!^, thouefh lie liad been not a little disgusted with his associates in tlie administration, on account of tiie execution of his brother-in-law, the marquis of iluntly, wlmm he in vain exerted all his inlliience to save. It is also said that he refused to assist at the trial, or to concur in the sentence passed upon the luai-quis of iMontrose, in the montli of 3Lay, IU50, declaring that he was too much a party to be a judge in tkit matter. Of the leading part he performed in the instillation of Charles 11., upon whose head he placed the crown at Scone on the 1st of .lanuary, 1G51, we have not room to give any pai-ticular account. Of the high consequence in which his services were held at the time, there needs no other proof than the report that the king intended marrying one of his daughters. For the defence of the king and kingdom, against both of whom Cromwell was now ready to lead all his troops, he, as head of the Conanittee of Estates, made the most vigorous exertions. Even after the defeat at Dunbar, and the consequent ascendancy of the king's personal interests, he adhered to his majesty with unabated zeal and diligence, of which Charles seems to have been sensible al the time, as the follo\ving letter, in his own hand wTiting, which he delivered to Argyle under his sign manual, abundantly testifies: — "Having taken into consideration the faithful endeavours of the marquis of Argyle fur restoring me to my just rights, and the happy settling of my dominions, I am desirous to !*»« the world see how sensible I am of his real respect to me by some particular marlvs of my favour to him, by which they may see the trust and conlideacc v.hich I repose in him: and particularly, I do promise that 1 ivill make hi ni duke of Argyle, knight of the gf.rter, and one of the gentlemen of my bed- chamber, and this to be performed when he shall think it fit. And I do farther pi-omise him to hearken to his counsels, [pasmge worn out]. Whenever it shall please God to restore me to my just i-ights in England, I shall see him paid the £40,000 sterling which is due to him; all which I promise to maJve good to him upon the word of a king. Chables Rex, St Johnston, September 24th, IGoO." When Charles judged it expedient to lead the Scottish army into England, in the vain hope of raising the cavaliers and moderate presbyterians in his favour, Argyle obtained leave to remain at home, on account of the illness of his lady. After the whole liopes of the Scots were laid low at Worcester, September 3d, 1651, he retired to Inverary, where he held out against the ti-iumphant troops of Cromwell for a whole year, till, falling sick, he was sur- prised by general Dean, and carried to Edinburgh. Having received orders from Blonk to attend a privy council, he was entrapped to be present at the ceremony of proclaiming Cromwell lord Protector. A paper was at the same time tendered him to sign, containing his submission to the government, as settled without king or house of lords, which he absolutely refused, thougli aftei'wards, when he was in no condition to struggle farther, he signed a pro- mise to live peaceably under that government. He was always ^vatched, however, hy the ruling powers, and never was regarded by any of the autho- rities as other than a concealed loyalist. When Scotland was declared by Cromwell to be incorporated with England, Argyle exerted himself, in opposi- tion to the council of state, to have Scotsmen alone elected to serve in parlia- ment for Nortli Britain, of which Monk complained to Thurlow, in a letter from Dalkeith, tLated September .30, 1(55S. Under Kichard he was himself elected for the county of Aberdeen, and took his seat accordingly in the house, where he wrought most effectually for tlie service of the king, by making that breach through which his majesty entered. On the Restoration, Argyle's best fi-ienda advised him to keep out of the Avay on account of his compliances with the usurpation ; but he judged it more honourable and honest to go and congratu- 480 ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. bfn liis iiinjcsty upon so linppy a turn in liis allairs. To tliis lie must Imve been misled from tlio promissory note olkiiMhu'ss uliidi he held, payalde on demand, as well as by some ilatteriny; expressions \vhitli ("harles liad made use of resjanl- in;;- liim to liis son, li>rd l,orn ; but ulien he ■'.rrived at Wliiteball, .luly '~', lOfiO tlie King no sooner beard his name announced, than, " uith an anjrry stamp f 1' the foot, ho ordered Sir William Fleminsi^ to execute his ordei-s," which were to cirry him to the Towc'r. To the Tower be was rn Mith any pei-sons in Scotland ; but he avowed boldly, and with the utnia<;t frankness, that his hopes of success were founded on the cruelty of the administration, and such a disposition in the peo- ple to revolt as he conceived to be the natural consequence of oppression. He owned, at the same time, that he had laid too much weight ujton this principle. Writing-, too, to a friend, just before his examination, he has these Avoi-ds : "What may luive been discovered from any paper that may have been taken, he knows not. Otherwise, he has named none to their disadvantage." Perhaps it was to atone for their neglect with regard to the torture, that the council ordered his execution on the vei-y next day, although they had three to choose upon ; and, to make the triumph of injustice complete, it was ordered upon the iniquitous sentence of 16S-2. 'Die warning was short, but it must have been, in some de- gree, anticipated ; and he received it with the most perfect composmre. He possessed a faitli full of assurance thnt triumphed over all his afflictions, and a hope tluit breathed immortality. The morning of his execution was spent in religious exercises, and in writing short notices to friends. He had his dinner before he left the castle, at the usual hour, at which he discoursed with those that Avere along with 31r Charteris and othei-s, with ciieerful and becoming gravity. After dinner he retired, as was his custom, to his bedchamber, where it is recorded he slept quietly for about a quarter of an hour. ^^ bile he was in bed, one of the members of the council came, and Avished to speak with him. Being told that the earl was asleep, and had left orders not to be disturbed, he seemed to think that it was only a shift to avoid further questionings, and the door being thrown open, he beheld, in a sweet and tranquil slumber, the man who, by the doom of himself and his fellows, was to die within the space of two shoi't hours. Struck with the sight, he left (lie castle with the utmost precipitation : and entering the house of a friend that lived near by, threw himself on the iirst bed that presented itself. His friend natu- rally concluding that he was ill, ollored him some wine, which he refused, say- ing-, ' No, no, that will not help me — I have been at Argyle, and saw him sleep- ing as pleasantly as ever man did, but as for me — ." 'Ihe name of the pei-son to «hom this anecdote relates is not mentioned, but Wodrow says he liad it from the most unquestionable authority. After his short repose, he was brought to the high council-house, from which is dated the letter to liis wife, and thence to the place of execution. On the scaffold he discoursed with 31r Annand, a minis- ter appointed by the government to attend him, and with 31r Charter's, both of whom he desired to pray for him. He then prayed himself with great fervency. The speech which he made was every way worthy of his charaIr Campbell returned to Aberdeen, and concluded liis eduaitiou ns a clergyman in tlic divinity halls of tliat univer- sity. His superior intellect was now marked among liis fellows, and he became the leader of a disputing society which was instituted by them in 174.si, under the name of the Tlieoloyical Club. Being licensed in ITKi, he soon attracted attentiini by his discoin-scs ; )et in 1747, he was an unsuccessful candifhite for the church of Fordoun, in the INIearns. When his reput;ition hadacijuired more consistencv, he was presented to the church of Banchory Ternau, a few miles from Aberdeen, under circumstances of a somewhat extraordinary nature. Nei- ther the patron nor those who reconnuended Campbell, were a^vare of liis Chris- tian name. It therefore luipi)ened that Colin, his elder brother, a man of gTcat worth, but comparatively slender abilities, was applied to, and invited to preach at Banchory, as a prelude to his obtaining the living. Colin's public exhibitions did not equal the expectations which had been formed ; and, in the coui-se of convei-sation, the sag-acity of the patron, Sir Alexander Burnett, discovered tliat it was his brother whose recommendations had been so ample. George Cani})- bell was afterwards invited, and the satisfaction which he gave insured success, for lie was ordained minister of that parish, June 2, 174.!3. He was not long in this situation when he married a young lady of the name of Farquharson. Though 3Ir Campbell did not, at this early period of his life, give token of that power of intense application which he manifested in his later years, it is supposed that he fonuod, in the solitude of Banchory, the original ideas of all his great works. He here composed the most important parts of his Philosophy of Khetoric, This admirable and truly classical work, in which the hiws of elegant composition and just criticism are laid down with singular taste and per- spicuity, originally formed a series of detached essays, and contains, with a few exceptions, the outlines of all the works he ever published. At this time also he began his great work, the Translation of the Gospels; Hhough it is probable that he did not make much progress until his professional duties directed his attention nu)re forcibly to the same subject. His character as a country clergy- man was established in a very short time. The amiable simplicity of his num- ners, the integrity and propriety of his behaviour, conjoined with his extensive knowledge, and the general esteem in which he was held by literary men, very soon brought him into notice. He was consequently induced to relinquish his charge in the country, and comply with the invitation of the magistrates of Aberdeen, and take charge of one of the quarters of that city. Here he derived great advantage from the society of literary men, and the opportunity of con- sulting public libraries. Mr Campbell joined the I^iterary Society of Aberdeen, vhieli had been formed in the year 1758, and which comprehended many men afterwards eminent in literature and philosophy. The subjects discussed in this association were not confined to those coming strictly within the category of the belles leltres; all the different branches of philosophy were included in its comprchen!^ive range. Campbell took a very active part in tlie business of the society, and delivered in it the greater part of his " Philosophy of Rhe- toric." • When Jlr Alexander Fraser Tytler (iifterwards Lord Woodhonselee) published his " E?s:iy on the Principles of Translation," a correspomlenue ensued betwixt him and L)r Campbell, in cuiipeqnence of the latter asserting that many of the ideas contained in the Essay had been approiiriated without acknowleik'inent from his "Translation of the Gospels," published a short time previonsly. It was, however, satisfactorily established by Mr Tytler, that the supposed plagiarism was in reality the residt of -coincidence of opinion. Of this tlie doctor became thoroughly satisfied, and a warm friendship grew up between the parties. DR. GEORGE CAMPBELL. 491 Principal I'oUock of Marischal College died in 17 5!), and it was siii)}n)sed al the time tiiat the cliance of succeeding hint was confined to two genlleiiien pos- sessed of all tlie loc;il influence which in such cases generally insures success. Mr Campbell, who was amhitioiis of obtaining the situation, resolved to lay his pretensions before the duke of Ai'gyle, who, for many years, ha[>i)inted genci'Tilissiniu in Spain, where tliere were great complaints of nusnianaijeiuent on tiie part of the former ministry, and uhere it was now l»r()poSfd to c;irry on tlie war >vith more than ordinary vigoiu". Here, however, his •rmce was completely orerreaclied, the ministry having no intention of airrying on the war any where. On his arrival in Spain, lie found the army in a state of perfect disorganization, without pay and without necessaries, and though the parliament had voted a large sum for its subsistence, not one farthing WTis sent to liiuL He was under the necessity of raising money upon his plate and personal ci-edit for its immediate wants, and in a short time returned to I'^nglaiid. having accomplished nothing. This treatment, witli a report that a design luid been laid to take him oil' by poison while he was on his ill-fated journey, and, above all, the superior intluence of the earl of 31ar, who, as well as himself, aspired to the sole administration of Scottish aftaii-s, totally alienated him from his new friends, the tories. He became again a leading whig, and a violent declaimer for the protestant succession, in consequence of which he was deprived of all his employments. His gi-ace had been a principal agent in accomplishing the union, by which his popularity was considerably injured among tiie lower ordei-s of his countrymen ; this he now dexterously retrieved, by joining with 3Iar and his Jacobite associates at court, for the dissolving of tliat treaty which he now pretended had completely disappointed his expecta- tions. A moti(jn for this end was accordingly made in the house of lords on the first of June, 1713, by the earl of Seafield, who also had been one of tlie most forward of the original supporter of the measure. The motion was seconded by the earl of 3Iar, and urged by Arg-> le with all the force of his eloquence. One of his principal arguments, however, being the security of the protestant succession, he was led to speak of the pretender, which he did with so much acrimony, that several of the high Jacobites lied the house without waiting for the vote. This was the means of disappointing the project, \vhich otherwise had most certainly been ciu'rled, it having been lost after all by no more than four voices. On the illness of the queen in the following year, tlie zeal of his grace for the protestant succession was most conspicuous, as well as most happy. No- body at the time entertained any doubt that Eolin<>broke and his parly had an intention at least to attempt the pretender's restoration on the death of the queen ; and to prevent any undue advantages being taken of circumstances, Ariiyle no sooner was apprized of her dangerous situation, than, along with the duke of Somei"set, he repaired to the council-board, and prevailed to have all the privy counsellors in aiul about London, without any exceptions, summoned to attend, which, with the sudden death of the queen, so completely disconcerted the tories, that, for the time, there was not the smallest manifestation of one ilisconl.'uit feeling. The queen was no sooner dead, than the seven lords who had by a previ(jus act of parliament been appointted to the regency, together with sixteen additional personages nominated by the heir apparent, in virtue of the same act of parliament, proclaimed the elector of Hanover king of (ireat Britain. They at the same time took every precaution for preserving tranquillitv, and preparing for his nirjesty's being peacefully and honourably received on his arrival. The services of Argyle on this occasion were not overlooked : he was made groom fjf the stole to the [irince, while his majesty had advanced no fur- ther than (ireenwich, and two days after was aj)pointed commander-in-chief of his m.ajesty's for(;es lor Scotland. Though by tliis strange combination of circumstances, viz. the sudden demise of the queen, the disunion of the Jacobites, witli the prompt decision of the JOHN CAMPBELL. 495 tvliigs, .among wlioin the subject of this memoir xvas a most eflicieiit leader, the accession of the new dynasty \vas to all appearance e.isy and peaceal)le, the baffled faction very soon rallied their forces and returned to the charge ^vith an energy and a perseverance worthy of a better cause. The cry of " Church in danger" was again raised, and for some weeks England was one scene of universal riot. Many places of worship belonging to dissenters were thrown down, and in several places most atrocious murders were connnittcd. Through the energy of tJie government, however, open insurreclionwas for a while prevented, and tranquillity in some measure restored. Still the activity of the Pretender at foreign courts, and the restlessness of his adherents at home, created strong suspicions that an invasion on his behalf was intended, and every preparatiorder. Tliis romantic project the old brigTidier, as he was called in the anny, accomplished with great facility, one boat with forty men being all that in crossing the Firth fell into the liands of the enemy. A few with the earl of Strathmore were cut olTfrom the rest, but made their escape into the isle of IMay, whence in a day or two they found their way back to I'erth. The princip il part of the expedi- tion, coi.sisting nearly of two thousand men, landed between Tantalon, North Berwick and .\berlady, and for the iii-st nigh: quartered in Hadding-ton. Early next morning, the 13th of October, the whole boi'v uiarchelemen in being attentive to the state of his affairs, and careful to discJiarge all his debts, particularly tradesmen's accounts, in due season. We cannot sum up his character more appropriately than in the worils of Lockliart, who seems to have appre- ciated very correctly the most prominent features of the man with whom he was acquainted. " He was not," says lie, " strictly speaking, a man of sound under- standing and judgment, for all his natural endowments were sullied with too much impetuosity, passion, and positiveness, and his sense lay rather in a flash of wit, than a solid conception and reflection — yet, nevertheless, he might avcU enough pass as a very well-accomplished gentleman." GA3IFBELL, John, LL.D., an eminent miscellaneous writer, was born at Edin- burgh, Mai-ch 8, 1708. He w.is the fourth son of Robert Campbell, of Glenlyon, by Elizabeth Smith, daughter of Smith, Esq., of Wintlsor. By his father, Dr Campbell was connected with the noble family of Breadalbane, and other distinguished Highland chiefs ; by his mother, he was descended from the poet Waller. If we are not much mistaken, this distinguished \vriter was also allied to the famous Rob Roy IMacgregor, whose children, at the time when Dr Camp- bell enjoyed a liigh literary reputation in the metropolis, must have been pursu- ing the lives of outlaws in another part of the counti-y, hardly yet emerged from barbarism. When only five years of age, he was conveyed from Scotland, ^vliiclk country he never afterwai'ds saw, to Windsor, where he received his education under the care of a maternal uncle. It was attempted to make him enter the profession of an attorney ; but his thii-st for knowledge rendered that disagree- able to him, and caused him to prefer the precarious life of an author by profes- sion. It would be vain to enumerate the many works of Dr Campbell. His first undertaking of any magnitude, was " The Militai-y History of the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene," which appeared in 173G, in two volumes, folio, and was well received. He was next concerned in the preparation of the 506 JOHN CAMPBELL, LL.D. Ancient Universal History, which appeared in seven folios, the last being pub- lished in 1744. Tlie part rciatinfj to the cosmogony, uliicli is by far the most learned, was written by Dr Campbell. In 1742, appeared the two first volumes of his Lives of the Admirals, and, in 1744, the remaining two : this is the only work of Dr Campbell which has continued popular to the present time, an accident probably arising, in a great measure, from the nature of the subject. The activity of Ur Campbell at this period is very surprising. In the same year in which he completed his last mentioned work, he publisiied a Collection of Voyages and Travels, in 2 volumes, folio. In 1745, lie commenced the publi- cation of the BiogTaphia Britannica, in weekly numbers. In this, as in all the other works of Dr Campbell, it is found that he did not content himself with the ordinary duties of his profession, as exercised at that time. While he wrote to supply the current necessities of the public, and of his ow n home, he also endea- voured to give his works an original and peculiar value. Hence it is found thai the lives composing his Biographia Britannica are compiled with great tare from a vast number of documents, and contain many stinking speculations on literary and political subjects, calculated to obtain for the work a high and enduring- character. The candour and benevolent feelings of Dr Campbell have also produced the excellent effect of striking impartiality in the grand ques- tions of religious and political controversy. Though himself a member of the church of Enghind, he treated the lives of the great non-confonnists, such as Baxter and Calamy, with such justice as to excite the admiration of their own party. Dr Campbell's style is such as ^vould not now, perhaps, be much admired; but it was considered, by his own contemporaries, to be superior both in accu racy and in wannth of tone to what was generally used. He treated the article Boyle in such terms as to di-aw the thanks of John, fifth earl of Oirery, "in the name of all the Boyles, for the honour- he had done to them, and to his own judgment, by placing the family in such a light as to give a spirit of emulation to those Avho were hereafter to inherit the title." A second edition of the Bio- graphia, with additions, was undertaken, after Dr Campbell's death, by Dr Ki]j- pis, but only cai'ried to a fifth volume, where it stopped at the letter F. It js still, in both editions, one of the greatest works of reference in the language. While engaged in these heavy undertakings, Dr Campbell occasionally relaxed himself in lighter works, one of which, entitled, " Hermippus Redivivus," is a curious essay, apparently designed to explain in a serious manner an ancient mediciil whim, which assumed that life could be prolonged to a great extent by inlialing the breath of young women. It is said that some grave physicians were so far influenced by this mock essiiy, as to go and live for a time in female boarding-schools, for the purpose of putting its docti-ine to the proof. In reality, tlie whole aflair was a jest of Dr Campbell, or rather, perhaps, a sportive exer- cise of his mind, being merely an imit^ition of the manner of Bayle, with whose style of treating controversial subjects he appears to have been deeply impressed, as he professedly adopts it in the Biographia Britannica. In 1750, Dr Camp- bell published his celebrated work, " 'llie Present State of F^urope," which after- wartis went through many editions, and \vas so much admired abroad, that a son of the dului de Belleisle studied luiglish in order to be able to read it. The vast extent of information which Dr Campbell had acquired dm-ing his active life, by conversation, as well as by books, and the comprehensive powers of arrangement which his profession had ah'cady given him, are conspicuous in this worlc He was afterwards employed in writing some of the most important arti- cles in the " Modern Universal History," which extended to sixteen volumes, folio, and was reprinted in a smaller foiin. His last great work was the " Poli- tical Survey of Britain ; being a Series of Ixelluctions on the situation, hinds, JOHN CAMPBELL, LL.D. 507 inhabitants, revenues, colonies, and coiiuuerce, of this island ;" «hicii appeared in 1771, in 2 volumes 4to, having cost him the labour of many ycai-s. 'ihougli its value is so far temporary, tliis is perhaps the uork Avhich does its author the highest credit. It ex«;ited the admiration of the uorld to such a degree as caused him to be absolutely overwhelmed Avith new correspondents. He tells a friend, in a letter, tliat he had already consumed a ream of paper, (nearly a thou- sand sheets, ) in answering these friends, and was just breaking upon another, which ])erhaps would share the same fate. Dr Campbell had been married ea\-ly in life to IHiioibeth, daughter of I3en ja- min Robe, of Leominster, in the county of Hereford, gentleman, by uhom he had seven children. Though it docs not appear that he had any other resources than his pen, his style of life was very respectable. His time uas so exclusively devoted to reading and writing, that he seldom stirred abroad. His chief exer- cise was an occasional \valk in his garden, or in a room of his house. He was naturally of a delicate frame of body ; but stiict temperance, Avith the regularity of all his habits, preserved his health against the effects of both his sedentary life and original weakness, till his sixty-eiiihth year, when he died, December 2S, 1775, in full possession of his faculties, and Avithout pain. It would only encumber our pages to I'ecount all the minor productions of Dr Campbell. A minute specification of them is preserved in the second edition of his Eiographia Britannica, where his life was written by Dr Kippis. So multitu- dinous, however, were his fugitive compositions, that he once bought an old pamph- let, with which he was pleased on dipping into it, and which turned out to be one of his own early writings. So completely had he forgot every thing con- nected with it, that he had read it half through before he had discovered that it was AVTitten by himself. On another occasion, a friend brought him a book, in French, which professed to have been translated from the German, and which the owner reconmiended Dr Campbell to try in an English tU"ess. The Doctor, on looking into it, discovered it to be a neglected work of his own, which had found its way into Germany, and there been published as an original work. Dr Campbell, in his private life, was a gentleman and a Christian: he possessed an acquaintance with the most of modern languages, besides Hebrew, Greek, and various oriental tongues. His best faculty was his memoi-y, which was surpris- ingly tenacious aud accurate. Dr Johnson spoke of him in the following terms, as recorded by Boswell : " 1 think highly of Campbell. In the first place, he has very good parts. In the second place, he has very extensive reading ; not, perhaps, wliat is properly called learning, but history, politics, and, in short, that popular knowledge which makes a man very usefuL In the third place, he has learnt much by what is called the voce viva. He tallis A\ith a great many people." 'llie opportunities which Dr Campbell enjoyed of acquiring informa- tion, by the mode described by Dr Johnson, were very great. He enjoyed a univei-sal acquaintance among the clever men of his time, literary and otherwise, whom he regularly saw in conversationes on the Sunday evenings. The advan- tage which a literary man nmst enjoy by this means is very great, for conversa- tion, when it becomes in the least excited, strikes out ideas from the minds of all present, which would never arise in solitary study, and often brings to a just equilibrium disputable points wliich, in the cogitations of a single individual, would be settled all on one side. Smollett, in enumerating the writers who had reflected lustre on the reign of George II., speaks of " the merit conspicuous in the works of Campbell, remarkable for candour, intelligence, and precision." It only remains to be mentioned, that this excellent man was honoured, in 1754, with the degree of LL.D. by the university of Glasgow, and that, for some years 508 JOHN CAMPBF.LL. before his death, having befriended the administration of the earl of Bate in his writinffs, he was rewarded by the situation of his majesty "s a^ent for the province of Georffia. CAMPBELL, LiErTENA>TCoLOXEl. JciCT, a distinguished soldier, was bom at Edinburjrh, December 7, 1 753. He was second son of John Campbell, Esq^ of Stonefield, one of the judges of the court of session, and lady Grace Stuart, sister to John, third earl of Bute. Lord Campbell was a judge of the supreme court for the long period of thirty-nine years, and died on the 19th of June, 1801. His pon John received the greater part of his education in his native city, the High School of which he attended from the year 1759 to 1763. When ei»hteen vears of age, he entered the army, as ensign in the 57lh regiuieni ot foot : and in three years afterwards, was appointed to a lieutenancy in the 7 til foot, or royal fusileers. With this regiment he served in Canada, and was made prisoner there, when that countr\' was overrun by the .American generais, Montffomery and Arnold. Having obtained his release, he \ra3, two years afterwards, namely, in 1775, appointed to a captaincy in the 71st, or, as they were then called, Frazer's Highlanders ; and with this corps he served in .America, until towards the close of the war with that country , having been, in the mean time, appointed major of the 7-tth regiment, or Argyleshire High- landers. In February, 1 7 SI, major Campbell exchanged into the 100th regiment, with whicli corps he embarked in the expedition fitted out by the British government against the Cape of Good Hope, under the command of commodore Johnston, and general, afterwards Sir William ^leadoHS. On this occasion, the general orders bore, that the troops on board of the Porpoise and Eagle trans- ports, were to receive their orders from major Campbell. Circumstances, however, having subsequently rendered it advisable, in the opinion of the commodore and general, not to make any attempt on the Cape, but rather to proceed to the East Indies, to aid the British forces there, tlie transports pro- ■»eded lo their new destination, and arrived in Bombay in January, 17S2. In the Febniary following, major Campbell was appointed to command the flank corps of a small army assembled at Calicut, on the Malabar coast, under the command of lieutenant-colonel Humberston. Tliis army mnrched into the interior, for the purpose of attacking Palagatcherry, an important stronghold of Hyder Ally ; but it was found too strong to be assailed, with any chance of success, by so small a force as that which was now brought against it ; colonel Humberston, therefore, found it necessary to retreat, without attempting any- thing. During this retreat, the British forces were for some time pursued by the enemy, who, however, were kept so etfeclually at bay by the retiring troops, that they were unable to obtain any advantage over them : and the sole merit of this was as<-ribed by the commanding officer, to the able and soldier- like manner in which major Campbell covered the retreat, in which service he had a horse shot under him. Tiie retreating army hatriog reached Paniana, a British station, the command was assumed by colonel Macleod, who made immediate preparations for receiv- ing tiie enemy, who, though now left at some distance in the rear, were still advancing. In the disposition of his forces on this occasion, colonel Macleod confided the command of the centre to major Campbell, who had, in the in- terim, been appointed to the majority of the second battalion of the 4'2n-y council felt that this assumption of ecclesiastical author- ity was not only calcubited to bring contempt upon the eminent persons named, but tended to mark them out as proper objects for the vengeance of the igno- rant multitude ; and they accordingly took very severe measures against the offender. He was interconnnuned, and a reward of 5000 merks offei'ed for his apprehension. For several months he continued to exercise his functions as a minister when he could find a convenient opportunity ; and i\iany stories are told of hair-breadth esc^npes which he made on those occasions from the soldiers, and othei-s sent in search of hinu At length, in IMay, 168 1, he was seized at Covington in Lanarkshire, by a person named Irving of Bonsliaw, who carried him to Lanark on horseback, \vith his leet tied under the animal's belly. Soon after he was conducted to Glasgow, and thence to Edinburgh, where, on the 2Gth of July, he was tried and condemned to suffer death for high treason. He was next day hanged and beheaded, his List expressions being suitable in their piety to the tenor of his whole life. Cargill is thus dciCiibed by Wodrow, who ALEXANDER CARLYLE. 515 by no means concurred with him in all his sentiments : " He was a pei-son of a very deep and sharp exercise in his youtli, and had a very extraordinary out- gate from it. Afterwards lie lived a most pious and religious life, and was a zealous and useful minister, and of an easy sweet natural temper. And 1 am of opinion, the singular steps he took towards the end of his coui-se were as much to be attributed unto his regard to the sentiments of others, for whom he had a value, as to his own inclinations." CARLYLE, Alexander, an eminent divine, was born about the year 1721. Kis father was the minister of Prestonpans, and he received his education at the universities of GLisgow, Edinburgh, and Leydcn. While he attended these schools of learning, the extreme elegance of his person, his manners, and his taste, introduced him to an oi'der of society far above any in wliich such students as he generally mingle, and rendered him the favourite of men of science and literature. At the breaking out of the insurrection of 1745, he was an ardent youth of four-and-twenty, and tliought px'oper to accept a commission in a troop of volunteers, Mhich was raised at Edinburgh for the purpose of defend- ing the city. This corps having been dissolved at the approach of the Highland army, he retired to his father's house at Prestonpans, where the tide of war, however, soon followed him. Sir John Cope having pitched his camp in the immediate neighbourhood of Prestonpans, the Highlanders attacked him early on the morning of the 21st of September, and soon gained a decided victory. Carlyle was aAvaked by an account that the armies were engaged, and hun-ied to the top of the village steeple in order to have a view of the action. He was just in time to see the regular soldiers flying in all directions to escape the broad- swords of the enemy. This incident gave him some uneasiness on his own account, for there was reason to apprehend that the victors would not be over kind to one Avho had lately appeared in arms against them. He therefoi-e retired in the best way he could to the manse of Bolton, some miles oft", where he lived unmolested for a few days, after which he returned to the bosom of his own family. Having gone through the usual exercises prescribed by the church of Scotland, Mr Carlyle was presented, in 1747, to the living of Invei-esk, which was, perhaps, the best situation he could have obtained in the church, as the dis- tance from Edinburgh was such as to make intercourse with metropolitan society very easy, while, at the same time, he enjoyed all the benefits of retirement and country leisure. From this period till the end of the century, the name of Dr Carlyle enters largely into the literary history of Scotland ; he was the intimate associate of Hume, Home, Smith, Blair, and all the other illustrious men who flourished at this period- Unfortunately, though believed to possess talents fit- ting him to shine in the very highest walks of literature and intellectual science, he never could be prevailed upon to hazard himself in competition Avith his dis- tinguished friends, but was content to lend to them the benefit of his assistance and critioxil advice in fitting their productions for the eye of the world. In his clerical character, Mr Carlyle was a zealous moderate ; and ^vhen he had acquired some weight in the ecclesiastical coui-ts, was the bold advocate of some of the strongest measures taken by the General Assembly for maintaining the standards of the church. In 1757, he himself fell under censure as an accomplice — if we may use such an expression — of Mr Home, in bringing forward the tragedy of Douglas. At the first private rehearsal of this play, Dr Carlyle enacted the part of Old Nerval ; and he was one of those clergymen who resolutely involved them- selves in the evil fame of the author, by attending the first representation. Dur- ing the run of the play, while the general public, on the one hand, was lost in admiration of its merits, and the church, on the other, was preparing its sharp- est thunders of condemnation, Dr Carlyle pubhshed a burlesque pamphlet, enti- 516 WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. tied, " Reasons why the Trajjedy of Doiiijlas sliould be burnt by tlie hands of the Common Hanfrman ;" and, afterwards, he wrote another, calculated for the lower ranks, and wiiich was hawked about the streets, under the title, " History of the Bloody Tragedy of Douglas, as it is now perfonned at the Theatre in the Canongate.'' 3Ir 3Iackenzie informs us, in his life of Home, that the latter pasquinade had the eflect of adding two more nights to the already unprecedented run of the plav. For this conduct Dr Carlyle was visited by his presbytery, with a censure and admonition. A person of right feeling in the present day is only apt to be astonished that the punishment was not more severe ; for assur- edly, it would be difficult to conceive any conduct so apt to be injurious to the usefulness of a clergyman as his thus mixing himself up with the impurities and burtboneries of the stage. The era of 1757 was perhaps somewhat difl'ercnt from the present. The serious party in the church were inconsiderately zealous in their peculiar mode of procedure, while the moderate party, on the principle of antagonism, erred as much on the side of what they called liberality. Hence, although the church would not now , perhaps, go to such a length in condemning the tragedy of Douglas, its author, and his abettors, neither would the provoca- tion be now given. No clergyman could now be found to act like Home and Carlyle ; and therefore the church could not be called upon to act in so ungra- cious a manner as it did towards those gentlemen, Dr Carlyle was a fond lover of his country, of his profession, and, it might be said, of all mankind. He was instrumental in procuring an exemption for his brethren from the severe pressure of the house and window tax, for which purpose he visited London and was introduced at court, where the elegance and dignity of his appearance are said to have excited both admiration and sui-prise. It was generally remarked that his noble countenance bore a striking resemblance to the Jupiter Tonans in the capitol. Smollett mentions in his Humphrey Clinker, a work in which fact and fancy are curiously blended, that he owed to Dr Carlyle his introduction to the literary circles of Edinburgh. After mentioning a list of celebrated names, he says, "These acquaintances 1 owe to the friendship of Dr Carlyle, who wants nothing but inclination to figure with the rest upon paper." It may be further mentioned, that the world owes the preservation of Collins' fine ode on the super- stitions of the Highlands, to Dr Carlyle. The author, on his death-bed, had mentioned it to Dr Johnson as the best of his poems ; but it was not in his pos- session, and no search had been able to discover a copy. At last, Dr Carlyle found it accidentally among his papers, and presented it to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, in the first volume of whose transactions it Avas published. Dr Carlyle died, August 25, 1805, in the eighty-fourth year of his age, and the fifty-eighth of his ministry. By his wife, who was a woman of superior un- derstanding and accomplishments, he had had several children, all of whom died many years before himself. Dr Carlyle published nothing but a few sennons and jeux d''esprit, and the statistical account of the parish of Inveresk in Sir John Sinclair's large compilation ; but he left behind him a verj' valuable me- moir of his own time, which, to the surpi-ise of the literary world, is still con- demned by his relations to manuscript obscurity. CAItSTAIRS, William, an eminent politir^il and ecclesiastical character, was born at the village of Cathcart in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, on the 11th of February, 1649. His father was 3Ir John Carstaii-s, descended of a very ancient family in Fife, and minister in the high church of Glasgow, where he had for his colleague the Rev. James Durham, well known for his commen- tary on the Revelation and other learned and pious works. His mother's name was Jane 3Iiur, of the family of Glanderston in the county of Renfrew. Giving early indications of an unconmnm genius, young Carstaii-s was by his father WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. .^17 placed under the care of ta Mr Sinclair, an indulged presbyterian minister, who at that time kept a school of great celebrity at Ormiston, a village in east LoUiian. Under JMr Sinclair, in whose school, as in all schools of tliat kind at the time, and even in the family, no language but Latin was used, Carstairs acquired a perfect knowledge of tliat language, with great fluency of expressing himself in it, and a strong taste for classical learning in general. He liad also the good fortune to form, among the sons of the nobility Avho attended this celebrated seminary, several friendships, which were of the ut»i(>st consequence to him in after life. Having completed his course at the school, JMr Carstairs entered the college of Edinburgh in his nineteenth year, where he studied for foui- years under Mr, afterwards Sir William Patei-son, who in later life be(;ame clerk to the privy council of Scotland. Under this gentleman he made great proficiency in the several branches of the school philosophy then in vogue ; but the distracted state of the country detei-mined his father to send him to study divinity in Hol- land, where many of Iiis brethren, the persecuted ministers of the church of Scotland, had already found an asylum. He was accoi'dingly entered in the university of Utrecht, where he stiulied Hebrew under Leusden and Divinity under Herman Witsius, at that time two of the most celebrated professors in Europe. He had also an opportunity, which he carefully improved, of attend- ing the lectures of the celebrated Graivius, who was at this time in the vigour of his faculties and the zenith of his reputation. The study of theology, however, was what he made his main business, which having completed, he was licensed as a preacher of the gospel, but where or by whom seems not to have been known by any of iiis biographers. In all probability, it was by some of the classes of Holland. Being strongly attached to the presbyterian system, in which he had been educated, and for adherence to which his father was a suf- ferer at home, and himself in a limited sense a wanderer in a strange land, for it was to avoid the taking of unnecessai-y or unlawful oaths imposed by the bishops that he had been sent by his father to study at Utrecht, he naturally took a deep interest in the aflairs of his native countiy, and was early engaged in deliberating upon the means of her deliverance. On sending him to Holland by the way of London, his father introduced him by letter to an eminent physician of that city, Avho kindly furnished him with a letter to the physician of the prince of Orange. This latter gentleman, upon the strength of his friend's recommendation, introduced Carstairs to the Pensionary Fogel, who finding him so much a master of every thing relative to the state of parties and interests in Great Britain, introduced him to a private interview with his master, the prince, who was at once struck with his easy and polite address, and with the extent of his political knowledge. This favourable opinion was heightened by subsequent interviews, and in a short time nothing of consequence was tran- sacted at his court relative to Great Bi-itain, till Carstairs had been previously consulted. Holland had, from the first attempts of the court after the Restora- tion to suppress the presbyterians, been the general resort of such of the Scot- tish clergy as found it impossible to retain their stations, and they were soon followed by numbers of their unhappy countrymen who had vainly perilled their lives on the fatal fields of Pentland and Bothwell, with the principal of whom Carstairs could not, in the circumstances in which he was placed, fail to become acquainted. Being well connected, and in no way obnoxious to the government, he seems to have been selected both by his expatriated countrymen and by the agents of the prince of Orange to visit Scotland on a mission of observation in the year 1682. Nothing could be more hopeless than the condition of Scotland at this time. 518 WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. Her ministers where every wliei*e silenced : Cargill and Cameron, the only two that remained of the intrepid hand tiiat had so lont^ kept up the preached gospel in the fields, had hoth fallen, tiio one on the scaffold by an iniquitous sentence, the other on tiie open heatii by the hand of violence. Her nobles were either the slaves of arbitrary royalty, or they had already expatriated themselves, or were just about to do so, wliile the body of her people, Issachar-like, were crouching beneath their burdens in the most hopeless dejection. Finding no encourasfement in Scotland, whore the few individuals that felt any of the true aspirations of liberty, were seriously engaged in a project for purchasing lands and transpnrtinfj themselves, their families, and their friends to Carolina in North America, 31 r Carstairs determined to return to Holland, where, under a rational and indulgent goverinnent, he had enjoyed a liberty which he found to his grief was not to be obtained at home. He, however, probably not with- out insti-uctions, took London in his way, where he annved in the month of November, 16 82, at the very time when Shaftesbury, Monmouth, Sydney, Essex, Russell, Hampden, and Howard were engaged in what has been called Shaftesbury's plot, or more generally, fi-om a foi-ged stoi-y of a design to murder the king and the duke of York at a farm called the Rye, possessed by colonel Rumbold, the Ryehouse plot These gentlemen were actuated by very different views. Monmouth had probably no object but the crown ; Russell and Hampden were for restraining the prerogative and securing the nation's liberties, civil and reli- gous ; Sydney and Essex were for restoring the republic, while Howard, a man without principle, seems to have had nothing in view, but to raise a tumult, whereby he might by accident promote his private interest All of them, how- ever, agi-eed in soliciting the co-operation of those Scotsmen, who, no longer of the government, and embrace the call of the people, or abandon all reasonable hopes of ever wearing that diadem which he so fondly coveted, and by wliicb alone he could ever hope to carry into e.Tect those mighty plans of policy with wliich his mind had been so long pregnant Equally wise to discern and prompt to act, he lost not a moment in idle hesitation ; but while he seemed tc discourage all the invitations he was now daily receiving, hastened to complete his preparations, and on the 19th of October, 16 SS, set sail for the shore of Britain with sixty-five ships of war, and five hundred transports, carrying upwards oJ fifteen thousand men. The subject of this memoir accompanied him as his domestic chaplain aboard his own ship, and he liad in his train a numerous retinue of British subjects, whom the tj-ranny of the times had compelled to take refuge in Holland. On the evening of the same day, the tieet was dispersed in a tremendous hurricane, and by the dawn of next morning noc two of the Avhole tleet were to be seen together. On the third day ^^ illiam returned to port, with only four ships of war and forty transports. The ship in which he himself sailed narrowly escaped being wrecked, which was looked on by some about him as an evil omen, and among the rest by Burnet, after vrards bishop of Salis- bury, who remarked that it seemed predestined they should not set foot on Eng- lish ground. A few days, however, collected the whole lieet once more, and on the 1st of November, the whole sailed again with a fair wind, and on 3Ion- day the 5th, the troops were safely landed at TorDay in Devonshire, the English tieet all the while lying wind-bound at Harwich. On the landing of the troops, jMr Carstairs performed divine service at their head, after which the whole army- drawn up along the beach sang the 113th psalm before going into a camp. From this time till the settlement of the crowns upon William and 31ary, Car- 524 WILLIAil CARSTAIRS. stairs co<:tinue»l about the poreon ol" the prince, being consulted and employe** in negotiating aflairs of poc^uliar delicacy, and disposing of sums of money will' whicli he was entrusted, in various quarters. " It was during this interval,' says his biographer, and the editor of his state papers, the Rev. Joseph Bl'Cor mick, " tliat he liad it in his power to be of the gi-eatest service to the prince of Orange, nothing being carried on relative to the settlement of Scotland wiiich the prince tlid not communicate to him, and permit him to give his sentiment* of in private." He was highly instrumental in procuring the settlement of Uie churcli of Scotland in its present presbyterian forni ; which was found to be ? matter of no small difficulty, as tlie king was anxious that the same system should continue in both parts of the island. Carstairs has been often blamed for hav- ing acceded to the king's wishes for maintaining patronage, and also for re- commending that some of tlie worst instruments of the late monarch should be continued in office, which he did upon the plea that most of them were possessed of influence and qualifications, which, if properly directed, might be useful un- der the new regime. It must be recollected, that, at sucli a critical time, a man of Carstairs' political sagacity was apt to be guided rather by Avhat ^vas practically expedient than what was abstractly proper. It is probable that Car- stairs, who was unquestionably a sincere man, was anxious to render the settle- ment of the church and of the government as liberal as he thought consistent with their stability, or as the circumstances he had to contend against would permit. King William now took an opportunity of atoning to his counsellor for all his former sufferings ; he appointed 3Ir Caxstairs his chaplain for Scotland, with the whole revenue of the Chapel Royal. He also required the constant presence of 3Ir Carstairs about his person, assigning him apartments in the palace when at home, and when abroad with the army allowing him £500 a year for camp equipage. He was of course with his majesty at all times, and by being thus always at hand \ras enabled on some occasions, to do signal service both to his king and his country. Of this we have a remarkable instance, which happened in the year 169i. In 1693, the Scottish parliament had passed an act, obligina: all who Avere in office to take tlie oath of allegiance to their majesties, and at the same time to sign the assurance, as it was called, whereby they declared William to be king de jure as well as de facto. This was one of the first of a long series of oppressive acts, intended secretly to ruin the Scottish church, by bringing her into collision Mith the civil authorities, and in the end depriv- ing her of that protection and countenance which she now enjoyed from them. This act had been artfully carried through the parliament by allowing a dis- pensing power to the privy council in cases where no known enmity to the king's prerogative existed. No honest presbyterian at that time had any ob- jection to king William's title to the crown ; but tliey had insuperable objections to the taking of a civil oath, as a qualification for a sacred office. Numerous applications were of course made to the pri^'j' council for dispensations ; but that court which liad still in it a number of the old pei-secutors, so far from complying with the demand, recommended to his majesty, to allow no one to sit down in the ensuing general assembly till he had taken the oath and signed the assur- ance. Orders were accordingly transmitted to lord Carmichael, the commissioner to the assembly to that effect. When his lordship an-ived in Edinburgh, how- ever, he found the clergy obstinately determined to refuse compliance with his demand, and they assured him it would kindle a flame over the nation which it would surpass the power of those who had given his majesty this pernicious council to extinguish. Lord Carmichael, firmly attached to his majesty, and awai'e that the dissolution of this assembly might not only be fatal to the church WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. 525 of Scotland, but to the interests of his majesty in tliat country, sent a flying [>acket to tlie kinjf, representing the dithculty, and requesting further instruc- tions. Some of the niinistei"s at the same time Avrote a statement of the case to Carstaire, requesting his best offices in the matter. Lord Carmichael's packet inuved at Kensington on a forenoon in the absence of 31r Carstairs, and William, who, when he could do it with safety, was as fond of stretching the prerogative as any of his predecessors, with the advice of the trinuiiing lord Stair and the in- famous Tai'bet, botli of whom being with him at the time, calunniiously repre- sented the refusal on the part of the clergy to take the oaths, as arising from disaffection to his majesty's title and authority, peremptorily renewed his in- structions to the conunissioner, and despatched them for Scotland without a moment's delay. Scarcely was tliis done, when Carstairs arrived ; and learning the nature of the despatch tluit had been sent for Scotland, hastened to find the messenger before his final departure, and having found him, demanded back the packet, in his majesty's name. It was now late in the evening ; but no time was to be lost ; so he ran straight to lus majesty's apartment, where he Avas told by the lord in waiting that liis majesty was in bed. Carstairs, however, insisted on seeing him ; and, being introduced to his chamber, found him fast asleep. He tui-ned aside the curtain, and gently awakened him ; the king, astonished to see him at so late an hour, and on his knees by his bedside, asked, with some emotion, what was the matter. " I am come," said Carstairs," to beg my life !" " Is it possi- ble," said the king, with still higher emotion, " tliat you can have been guilty of a crime that deserves death ?" " I have. Sire," he replied, showing the packet he had just brought back from the messenger. " And liave you, indeed," said the king, with a severe frown, " presumed to countermand my orders ?" " Let me be heard but for a few- moments," said Carstairs, " and I am ready to submit to any punishment your majesty shall think proper to inflict," He then pointed out very briefly the danger of the advice he had acted upon, and the consequences tliat would necessarily follow if it was pei'sisted in, to which his majesty listened with great attention. When he liad done, the king gave him the despatches to read, after which he ordered hina to throw them into the fire, and draw out others to please himself, which he would sign. This was done accordingly ; but so many liours' delay prevented the messenger from reaching Edinbui'gh, till the very morning when the assembly was to meet ; when nothing but confusion was expected ; the commissioner finding himself under the necessity of dissolving the assembly, and the ministers being determined to as- sert their own authority independent of the civil magistrate. Both parties were apprehensive of the consequences, and both were happily relieved by the arri- val of the messenger with his majesty's letter, signifying that it was his pleasure that the oaths should be dispensed witli. With the exception of the act estab- lishing presbytery, this was the most popular act of his majestj 's government in Scotland. It also gained JVLr Carstaii^s, when his part of it came to be known, more credit with his brethren and with presbyterians in general, than perhaps any other part of his public procedure. From this period, down to the death of the king, there is nothing to be told concerning Carstairs, but that he con- tinued still in favour, and was assiduously courted by all parties ; and was sup- posed to have so much influence, particularly in what related to the church, that he was called Cardinal Carstairs. Having only the letters that w ere addressed to him, without any of his replies, we can only conjecture what these may have been. The presumption is, that they were prudent and discreet. Though he was so gi-eat a favourite with Wil- liam, there was no provision made for him at his death. Anne, however, 52G AVILLIAM CARSTAIRS. tliough slie gave him no political einployinent, continued him in the chaplain- ship for Scotknd, with the same revenues lie liad enjoyed under her predeces- sor. In the year 1704, he was elected principal of the college of Edinburgh, for which he drew up a new and very minute set of rules ; and, as he was ^ranted to maiuige atiairs in the church courts, he was, at the same time, (at least in the same vear,) presented to tlie ch-irch of Greylriars ; and, in conse- quence of uniting this with his office in the univei-sity, he was allowed a salary of 2200 mcrks a year. Three years after this he A\as translated to the High Church. 'lliougJi so deeply inunersed in politics, literature had always engaged much of Carstairs' attention ; and he liad, so early as IGiJS, obtained a gift ti-om the crown to each of the Scottish universities, of three hundred pounds sterling per annum, out of the bishops' rents in Scotland. Now that he was more closely connected mtli these learned bodies, he exerted all his influence with the government to extend its encouragement and protection towards them, and thus essentially promoted the cause of learning. It has indeed been said, tliat from the donations he at various times procured for the Scottish colleges, he was the greatest benefactor, under the rank of royalty, to those institutions, that his country ever produced. Tlie first General Assembly tliat met after he became a minister of the church of Scotland, made choice of him for moderator ; and in the space of eleven years, he was four times called to fill that office. From his pei^sonal influence and the manner in which he was supported, he may be truly said to have liad the entire management of the church of Scotland. In leading the church he dispkiyed great ability and comprehensiveness of mind, with unaimmon judgment. "'He moderated the keenness of party zeal, and infused a spirit of cautious mildness into the deliberations of the General Assembly.' As the great body of the more zealous clergy were hostile to the union of the king- doms, it required all his influence to reconcile them to a measure, which he, as a whole, approved of, as of mutual benefit to tlie two countries: and although, after this era, the church of Scotland lost much of her weight in the councils of the kingdom, she still retained her respectability, and perhaps was all the better of a disconnection «ith political aifairs. When queen Anne, among the last acts of her reign, restored the system of patronage, he vigorously opposed it ; and, thoun-h unsuo^ssful, his visit to London at that time was of essential service in securing on a stable basis the endangered liberty of the church. The ultra-tory ministry, hostile to the protesiant interests of these realms, had devised certain strong measui-es for curtailing the power of the church of Scotland, by discon- tinuing her assemblies, or, at least, by subjecting them wholly to the nod of the court. 3Ir Carstaii"s prevailed on the administration to abandon the attempt ; and he, on his part, promised to use all his influence to prevent the discontents occasioned by the patronage bill from breaking out into open insurrection. It may be remarked, tliat, although pati'onage is a privilege which, if harshly exercised, acts as a severe oppression upon the people ; yet, while justified so far in abstract right, by the support which the patron is always understood to give to the clergyman, it was, to say tlie least of it, inoie expedietit to be en- forced at the commencement of last century than perhaps at present, as it tended to reconcile to the churcii many of the nobility and gentry of the country, who were, in general, votaries of episcopacy, and therefore disatTected to the state and to the general interests."' Principal Carstairs was, it may be supposed, a zealous promoter of the suc- cession of the house of Hanover. Of so much impoi-tance were his services deemed, that George I., two years before his accession, signified his acknow- 1 We here quote from a mumoir of Principal Carstairs, wliich appeared in the Ckristian Instructor, for March, 1827. WILLIAM CARSTAIRS. 52) ledgnients by a, letter, and, immediately after arriving in England, renewed his appointment as chaplain for Scotland. The last considerable duty upon which the Principal was engaged, was a mission from the Scottish church to congTatuLite the first prince of the house of BrunsAvick upon his accession. Ho did not long survive this pei'iod. In August, 1715, he was seized with an apoplectic, fit, which carried him off about the end of the December following, in tlie ()7th year of his age. His body lies interred in the Greyfriars' church- yard, where a monument is erected to his memory, with a suitable inscription in Latin. The university, the clergy, and the nation at large, united in lamenting the loss of one of their brightest ornaments, and most distinguished benefactors. Carstairs was one of the most remarkable men ever produced by this country. He appears to have been born with a genius for managing great political under- takings ; his father, in one of his letters, expresses a fear lest his *' boy Willie " should become too much of a public political man, and get himself into scrapes. His first move in public life was for the emancipation of his country from tyran- nical misrule ; and nothing could well equal the sagacity with which he con- ducted some of the most delicate and hazardous entei-prises for that purpose. In consequence of the triumph of the principles Avhich he then advocated, he became possessed of more real influence in the state than has fallen to the lot of many responsible ministers; so that the later part of his life presented the strangest contrast to the earlier part. What is strangest of all, he preserved tlirough these vicissitudes of fortune the same humble spirit and simple worth, the same zealous and sincere piety, the same amiable and affectionate heart. It fell to the lot of Carstairs to have it in his power to do much good ; and nothing could be said more emphatically in his praise, than tliat he improved every opportunity. The home and heart of Carstairs were constantly alike open. The former was the resort of all orders of good men ; the latter was alive to every beneficent and kindly feeling. It is related of him, that, although per- haps the most efficient enemy which the episcopal church of Scotland ever had, he exercised perpetual deeds of charity towards the unfortunate ministers of that communion \\\\o were displaced at the revolution. The effect of his gene- rosity to them in overcoming prejudice and conciliating affection, appeared strongly at his funeral. When his body was laid in the dust, two men were observed to turn aside from the rest of the company, and, bursting into tears, bewailed their mutual loss. Upon inquiry, it Mas found that these were two non-jurant clergymen, whose families had been supported for a considerable time by his benefactions. In the midst of all his greatness, Carstairs never forgot the charities of domes- tic life. His sister, who had been married to a clergjTnan in Fife, lost her husband a few days before her brother arrived from London on matters of great importance to the nation. Hearing of his arrival, she came to Edinburgh to see him. Upon calling at his lodgings in the forenoon, she was told he was not at leisure, as several of the nobility and officers of state were gone in to see him. She then bid the servant only whisper to him, that she desired to know Avhen it would be convenient for him to see her. He retui-ned for answer — immediately ; and, leaving the company, ran to her and embraced her in the most alfectionate manner. Upon her attempting to make some apology for her unseasonable inteiTuption to business, "Make yourself easy," said he, " these gentlemen are come hither, not on my account, but their own. They will wait with patience till I return. You know^ I never pray long," — and, after a short, but fervent prayer, adapted to her melancholy circumstances, he fixed the time when he could see her more at leisure ; and returned in tears to his company. The close attention which he must have paid to politics does not appear to 528 DAVID CHAMBERS. have injured his literature any uioi-e than his religion, tliough it perhaps pre- rented him from committing any work of either kind to the press. We are told that his first oration in the public hall of the university, after his installa- tion as principal, exhibited so much profound erudition, so much accjuaintance with classical learning, and such an accurate knowledge of the Latin tongue, that his hearers Mere delighted, and the celebrated Dr Pitrairn declared, tliat when 3Ir Carstaire began his address, he could not help fancying himself in the forum of ancient Rome. In the strange mixed character w hich he bore throuffh life, he must have corresponded with men of all orders ; but, unfortunately, there is no collection of his letters linown to exist A great number of letters addressed to him by the most eminent men of liis time, were preserved by his widow, and conveyed through her executor to his descendant. Principal M'Cor- raick, of St Andrews, by whom they were published in the year 1774. CHA31BERS, David, a distinguished historical and legal writer, of the six- teenth century. Avas a native of Ross-shire, and generally stxled " of Ormond"in that county. He received his education in the laws and theology at Aberdeen college, and afterwards pursued liis studies in the fonuer branch of knowledge in France and Italy. The earliest date ascertained in his life is his studying at Bologna under 31arianus Sozenus in 155(3, Soon after, returning to his native country, he assumed the clerical offices of parson of Study and chancellor of the diocese of Ross, His time, however, seems to have been devoted to the legal profession, which was not then incompatible with the clerical, as has al- ready been remarkably shown in the biography of his contemporary and friend Sir James Balfour. In 15G4, he was elevated to the bench by his patroness Queen IMary, to whose fortunes he was faithfully attached tlirough life. He was one of the high legal functionaries, entrusted at this time with the duty of compil- ing and publishing the acts of the Scottish parliament The result of the labours of these men was a volume, now known by the title of " the Black Acts," from the letter in which it is printed. While thus engaged in asceiiaining the laws of his country, and ditTusing a knowledge of them among his countrymen, he became concerned in one of the basest crimes which the whole range of Scoiwish history presents. Undeterred either by a regard to fundamental morality, or, what sometimes has a stronger influence over men, a regard to his high professional cliaracter, he engaged in the conspiracy for destroying the queen's husband, the unfortunate Darnley. After that deed was perpetrated, a placard was put up by night on the door of the tolbooth, or hall of justice, which publicly denounced lord Ormond as one of the guilty persons. " 1 have made inquisition," so ran this anonymous accusation, " for the slaughter of the king, and do find the earl of Bothwell, Mr James Balfour, parson of Flisk, Mr David Chambers, and black Mr John Spence, the principal devysers there- of." It affords a curious picture of the times, Uiat two of these men were judges, while the one last mentioned was one of the two crown advocates, or public prosecutors, and actually appeared in tliat character at the trial of his ac<;oniplice Bothwell. There is matter of further surprise in the partly clerical character of Balfour and Chambers. The latter person appears to liave ex- perienced nmrks of the queen's favour almost immediately after the murder of her husband- On the 1 9th of April, he liad a ratification in parliament of the lands of Ochterslo and Castletoii. On the ensuing 12th of 31ay, he sat as one of the lords of Session, when the queen came forward to absolve Bothwell from all guilt he might have incurred, by the constraint under which he liad recently placed her. He also appears in a sederunt of privy council held on the 2ild of May. But after this period, the fortunes of his mistress experienced a GEORGE CHALMERS. -^29 strange overthrow, and Cliaiubers, unable to protect himself from the A\Tath oJ the asceiitLint party, found it necessary to take refuge in Spain, He here experienced a beneficent protection from king Philip, to whom lie must have been strongly reconnnended by his faith, and probably also the tran- sactions in which he had ktely been engaged. Subsequently retiring to France, he publislied in 1 572, " Histoire Abregce de tous les Roys de France, Angleterro, et Ecosse," which he dedicated to Henry HI. His chief authority in this work was the fabulous narrative of Boece. In 1579, he published other two works in the French language, " La Recherche des singularites les plus remarkables conccrnant T EsUiit d' Ecosse," and " Discours de la legitime suc- cession des fenunes aux possessions des leurs parens, et du gouverncnient des princesses aux empires et royaume." The first is a panegyi-ic upon the laws, religion, and valour of his native country — all of which, a modern may !)e inclined to think, he had ali-eady rendered the reverse of illustrious by his own conduct. The second work is a vindication of the right of succession of females, being in reality a compliment to his now imprisoned mistress, to whom it was dedicated. In France, Chambers was a popular and respected character ; and he testified his own predilection for the people by selecting their language for his composi- tions against the fashion of the age, which would have dictated an adherence to the classic language of ancient Rome. Dempster gives his literary character in a few words — " vir multa; et varias lectionis, nee inamoeni ingenii," a man of much and varied reading, and of not unkindly genius." He was, to use the quaiit phrase of 3Iackenzie, who gives a laborious dissection of his writings, " well seen in the (ireek, Latin, English, French, Italian, and Spanish lan- guages." On the return of quieter times, this strange mixture of learning and political and moral guilt retui-ned to his native country, where, so far from being called to account by the easy James for his concern in the murder of his father, he was, in the year I5S6, restored to the bench, in which situation he continued till his death in November 1592. Another literary character, of the same name and the same faith, lived in the immediately following age. He was the author of a work intitled " Davidis Camerarii Scoti, de Scotorum Fortitudine, Doctrina, et Pietate Libri Quatuor," which appeared at Paris, in small quarto, in 1G31, and is addressed by the au- thor in a flattering dedication to Charles I. The volume contains a complete calendar of the saints connected with Scotland, the multitude of whom is apt to astonish a modern protestant. CHi\L3IERS, Geokge, an eminent antiquary and general writer, was bom in the latter part of the year 1742, at Fochabers, in Banft'shire, being a younger son of the family of Pittensear, in that county. He was educated, first at the grammar-school of Fochabers, and afterwards at king's college, Aberdeen, where he liad for his preceptor the celebrated Dr Rcid, author of the Enquiry into the Human Mind. Having studied law at Edinburgh, Mr Chalmers removed, in his twenty-first year (1763), to America, as companion to his uncle, who was pro- ceeding thither for the purpose of recovering some property in Maryland. Being induced to settle as a lawyer in Baltimore, he soon acquired considerable practice, and, when the celebrated question arose respecting the payment of tithes to the church, he appeared on behalf of the clergy, and argued their cause with great ability, against Mr Patrick Heniy, who subsequently became so conspicuous in the war of independence. He vvas not only defeated in this cause, but was obliged, as a marked royalist, to withdraw from the country. In England, to which be repaired in 1755, his sufferings as a loyalist at last I'ecommended hira to the government, and he was, in 1786, appointed to the respectable situation of I. 3 X 530 GEORGE CHALMERS. clerk to the Board of TraJo. The duties of this office ho continued to execute, with diligence and ability, for tlie remainder of his life, a period of thii-ty-nino years. Before ^d after his appointment, he distinguished himself by the com- position of various elaborate and useful works, of which, as well as of all his subsequent writings, the following is a correct chronological list: — 1. "The Political Annals of the Present Uuited Colonies, from their Settlement to the Peace of 1763," of which the first volume appeared in quarto, in 1780: the second was never published. 2. Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britniii, during the present and four preceding reigns, 1762. 3. Opinions on interesting subjects of Public Law and Commercial Policy ; arisin" from American Independence, 1784, Svo. 4. Life of Daniel Defoe, prefixed to an edition of the History of the Lnion, London, 1786 ; and of Robinson Crusoe, 1790. 5. Life of Sir John Davies, prefixed to his Historical Tracts regarding Ireland, 1786, Svo. 6. Collection of Treaties between Great Britain and other Powers, 17!)0, 2 vols. Svo. 7. Life of Thomas Paine, 1793, 8vo. 8. Life of Thomas Ruddinian, A.3L, 1794, Svo. 9. Prefatory Introduction to Dr Johnson's Debates in Parliament, 1794, Svo. 10. Vindication of the Privi- lege of tlie People in respect to the constitutional right of free discussion ; with a Retrospect of various proceedings relative to the Violation of that Right, 1796, Svo. (An Anonymous Pamphlet.) 1 1. Api'logy for the Believers in the Sliakspeare Papei-s, which were exhibited in Norfolk street, 1797, Svo. 12. A Supplemental Apology for the Believers in the Sliakspeare Papers, being a reply to 3Ir 31alone'8 Answer, &rc. , 17 99, Svo. 13. Appendix to tl'.e Supple- mental Apology; being the documents for the opinion that Hugh Bojd wrote Juniiis's Letters, 1800, Svo. 14. Life of Allan Ramsay, prefixed to an edition of his Poems, 1800, 2 vols., Svo. 15. Life of Gregory King, prefixed to his observations on the state of England in 1696, 1804, Svo. 16. The Poetical Works of Sir David Lindsay of the 3Iount, with a Life of the Author, prefatory dissertations, and an appropriate glossary, 1806, 3 vols., Svo. 17. Caledonia, &c.,vol.i., 1807, 4to; vol. ii., 1810; vol. iii., 1824. 18. A Chronological Ac- count of Commerce and Coinanomy of Great Britain and Ire- land, from the earliest to the Present Times, (a new and extended edition of the Coniparate Estimate,) Edinburgh, 1812, Svo. 21. Opinions of Eminent Lawyers on various points of English jurisprudence, chiefly concerning the Colonies, Eisheries, and Commerce of Great Britain, 1814, 2 vols., Svo. 22. A Tract (privately printed) in answer to 31alone's Account of Shak- speare's Tempest, 1815, Svo. 23. Comparative Views of the State of Great Britain before and since the war, 1817, Svo. 24. The Author of Junius as- certained, from a concatenation of circumstances amounting to moral demon- stration, 1817, Svo. 25. Churchyard's Chips concerning Scotland; being a Collection of his Pieces regarding that Country, with notes and a life of the au- thor, 1817, Svo. 26. Life of Queen 31ary, drawn from the State Papers, with six subsidiary memoirs, 1818,2 vols., 4to ; reprinted in 3 vols., Svo. 27. The Poetical Reviews of some of the Scottish kings, now first collected, 1824, Svo. 28. Kobene and 31akyne, and the Testament of Cresseid, by Robert Henryson, edited as a contribution to the Bannatyne Club, of which 31r Chalmers was a member; Edinburgh, 1824. 29. A Detection of the Love-Letters lately at- tributed in Hugh Campbell's work to 31ary, Queen of Scots, 1825, Svo. All these works, unless in the few instaiices mentioned, were published in London. DR. GEORGE CHAPMAN— CHARLES I. 531 The author's "Caledonia" astonished the world with the vast extent of its erudition and research. It professes to be an account, historical and topographical, of North Britain, from the most ancient to the present times ; and the original intention of the author was, that it should be completed in four volumes, quarto, each containing nearly a thousand pages. Former historians had not presumed to inquire any further back into Scottish history than the reign of Canmore, descriljiiig all before that time as obscurity and fable, as Strabo, in his maps, represents the inhabitants of every place which he did not know as Ichthyophagi. But George Chalmers was uot contented to start from this point. He plunged fearlessly into the middle ages, and was able, by dint of incredible research, to give a pretty clear account of the inhabitants of the northern part of the island since the Roman conquest. The pains which he must have taken, in compiling in- formation for this work, are almost beyond belief— although he tells us in his preface that it had only been the amusement of his evenings. The remaining tiiree volumes were destined to contain a topograpliical and historical account of each county, and the second of these completed his task so far as the Lowlands were concerned, when death stepped in, and arrested the busy pen of the anti- quary. May 31, 1825. As a writer, George Chalmers does not rank high in point of elegance of style; but the solid value of his matter is far more than sufficient to counterbalance both that defect, and a certain number of prejudices by which his labours are other- wise a little deformed. Besides the works which we have mentioned, he was the author of some of inferior note, including various political pamphlets on the Tory side of the question. CHAP.MAN, Du. George, an eminent teacher and respectable writer on education, was born in the parish of Alvale, Banffshire, in August, 1723. He studied at Aberdeen, and taught successively in Dalkeith, Dumfries, and Banff. He finally removed to Edinburgh, where he carried on business as a printer. He died February 22d, 1806. Dr Chapman's Treatise on Education appeared in 1782 ; a work of great practical utility. CHARLES L, king of Great Britain, was the second son of James VI. of Scotland, and First of Great Britain, by Anne, daughter of Frederick II., king of Denmark and Norway. Charles was born at Dunfermline palace, which was the dotarial or jointure house of his mother the queen, on the 19th of Novem- ber, 1600, being the very day on which the earl of Gowry and his brother were publicly dismembered at the cross of Edinburgh, for their concern in the celebrated conspiracy. King James remarked with surprise that tlie principal incidents of his own personal and domestic history had taken place on this par- ticular day of the month: he had been born, he said, on the 19th of June; he first saw his wife on the 19th of May; and his two former children, as well as this one, had been born on the 19th day of different months. Charles was only two years and a half old when his father was called up to England to fill the throne of Elizabeth. The young prince was left behind, in charge of the earl of Dunfermline, but joined his father in July, 1603, along with his mother and the rest of the royal family. Being a very weakly child, and not likely to live long, the honour of keeping him, which in other circumstances would have been eagerly sought, was bandied about by the courtiers, and with some difficulty was at length accepted by Sir Robert Carey and his wife. This was the gentleman who hurried, with such mean alacrity, to inform king James of the demise of his cousin Elizabeth, from whom, in life, he had received as many favours as he could now hope for from her successor. Carey tells us in his own Memoirs, that the legs of the child were unable to support him, and that the king had some thoughts of mending the matter by a pair of iron boots, from which, how- 532 CHARLES I. ever, he was dissuaded. At his baptism, December 23, 1(500, Charles had re- reived the titles of dultc of Albany, marvas kept from him. So far as his opportunities permit- ted him to judge of her personal merits, he admired her very much ; but we sus- pect that if he had fallen in love, as he had expected, he never would have broken off the match. After spending all the summer at the Spanish court, waiting for a dispensation from the Pope, to enable the princess to maiTy a protestant, he was suddenly inspired with some disgust, and abruptly announced his intention of returning home. The marquis, now duke, of Buckingham, whose mercurial manners had given great offence to the Spaniai'ds, and who had conceived great offence in return, is supposed to have caused this sudden change of purpose. The earl of Bristol was left to marry the princess in the way of proxy, but with secret instructions not to do so till he should receive further orders. It would be rash to pronounce judgment upon this affair with so little evi- dence as history has left us ; but it seems probable tliat the match was broken off, and the subsequent war incuiTcd, purely through some freakish caprice of the favourite — for upon such things then depended the welfare of the nations. This contemptible coui-t-butterfly ruled with absolute power over both the king and his son, but now chietly sided with the latter against his father, being sensi- ble that the old king was no longer able to assert his independency against the growing influence of his son. As the English people would have then fought in any quarrel, however unjust, against the Spaniards, simply because they were catholics, the war was very popular ; and Buckingham, who chiefly urged it, became as much the favourite of the nation, as he was of the king and prince. A negotiation was subsequently opened with France, for a match Avith the prin- 534 CHARLES I. cess Henrietta Maria. On the 27th of March, 1625, Cliarles succeeded his father as king ; and, on the 22d of June, the priuccss, to whom he had previously been espoused by proxy, arrived in London. It would be foreign to the character of this work to enter into a full detail of the public transactions in which Charles was concerned in his regal character. We shall, therefore, be content with an outline of these transactions. The arrogant pretensions of his father, founded on " the right divine of kings to govern wronir," had roused a degree of jealousy and resistance among the people; whilst the weakness and vacillation of his character, and the pusillanimity of his ad- ministration, had gone far to bring the kingly office into contempt. Charles had imbibed the arbitrary principles of his father, and, without appreciating the proo'ress of public opinion, resolved, on his accession, to carry out the extravagant theories of James. During the whole reign of the latter, the Commons had kept up a constant warfare with the crown, making every supply which they voted the condition of a new concession to the popular will. The easy nature of James had got over these collisions much better than was to be expected from the grave and stern temperament of his son. After a few such disputes with his parliament (for the House of Lords always joined with the Commons), Charles concluded his wars, to save all exjiense, and, resolving to call no more parliaments, endea- voured to support the crown in the best way he could by the use of liis pre- rogative. For ten years subsequent to 1628, when the duke of Buckingham was assassinated, he contrived to carry on the state with hardly any assistance from his officers, using chiefly the ill-omened advice of Laud, bishop of London, after- wards arclibisbop of Canterbury, and also relying considerably upon the queen, to whom he was devotedly attached. The result was to sow distrust and discon- tent throughout the kingdom, to array the subject aijainst the sovereign, and leave no alternative betwixt the enthralment of the people and the destruction of the king. The earnest struggles for religioiis freedom, in England and Scotland, added a fresh impulse to the growing spirit of civil liberty. Charles rashly encountered the powerful body of nonconformists in England and the sturdy presbyterians of Scotland, and at last sank under the recoil. The dissenters from the Church of England were at this time a rapidly increasing body ; and the church, to maintain her power, thought proper to visit them with some severe sentences. Tlie spirit with which the regular clergy were animated against the nonconformists, may be argued from the fact, that Laud publicly blessed God, when Dr Alexander Leightou was sentenced to lose his ears, and be whipped through the streets of London. The king and the archbishop had always looked with a jealous eye upon Scotland, where the episcopal form of government was as yet only struggling for supremacy over a people who were, almost without exception, presbyterian. In 1633, Charles visited Scotland for the purpose of receiving the crown of his ancient kingdom ; and measures were thenceforth taken, under the counsel of his evil genius Laud, who accompanied him, for enforcing episcopacy upon the Church of Scotland. It was not, however, tiU 1637, that this bold project was carried into effect. The Scots united themselves in a solemn covenant against this innovation, and at the close of the year 1638, felt themselves so confident in their own strength as to abolish episcopacy in a General Assembly of the church held in Glasgow, and which conducted its proceedings in spite of the prohibition of the king's commissioner. In 1639, his finances being exhausted, Charles was compelled, after the lapse of eleven years, to a-'semble a parliament, which met in April, 1640. Like their jiredecessors, the Commons refused to grant supplies till they had stated their grievances. The king hastily dissolved parliament, and prose- CHARLES I. 535 cutcd several of tlie members who had led on the opposition. Tlie kinjr, in sprinsr, 1G39, conducted an army of 20,000 to put down the Scots; but they met him with an equal force, and Charles was reduced to a pacification, which left the grounds of quarrel undecided. Next year, Charles raised another army ; but the Scots anticipated him by invading England, and at Newburn on the Tyne overthrew a large detachment of his forces, and immediately after gained posses- sion of Newcastle. All expedients for supporting his army now failed, and he seemed about to be deserted in a great measure by the aftections of his subjects. A large portion of the English entered heartily into the views of the Scots. It was agreed by all parties that the northern army should bo kept up at a certain monthly pay, till such time as a parliament should settle tlie grievances of the nation. Charles called together the celebrated assembly which afterwards acquired the name of the Long Parliament. This was only giving collective force and energy to the party which longed for his overthrow. He was obliged to resign his favourite minister, Strafford, as a victhn to this assembly. Some of his other servants only escaped by a timely flight. He was himself obliged to abandon many points of his prerogative which he had hitherto exercised. Fearing that nothing but the sword could decide the quarrel, he paid a visit in autumn, 1641, to Scotland, and endeavoured, by ostensible concessions to the religious prepossessions of that nation, to secure its friendship, or at least its neutrality. In August, 1G42, he erected his standard at Nottingham, and soon found himself at the head of a considerable army, composed chiefly of the country gentry and their retainers. The parliament, on the other hand, was supported by the city of London, and by the mercantile interest in general. At the first, Charles gained several advantages over the parliament; but the balance was restored by the Scots, who took side against the king, and, in February 1644, entered England with a large army. The cause of royalty from this time declined, and in May 1646, the king was reduced to the necessity of taking refuge in the camp of the Scottish army at Newark. He was treated with respect, but regarded as a prisoner, and after some abortive negotiations, was, January' 30, 1647, surrendered to the commissioners of the English parliament, on the payment of the arrears due to the Scottish army. If Charles would have now consented to abolish episcopacy, and reign as a limited monarch, he would have been supported by the presbyterian party, and might have escaped a violent death. I3ut his predilections induced him to resist every encroachment upon that form of ecclesiastical polity; and he therefore lost, in a great measure, the support of the prcsbyterians, who, though the body that had begun the war, were now sincerely anxious for a pacification, being in some alarm respecting .-i more violent class, who had latterly sprung up, and who, from tlieir denial of all forms of church government, were styled Independents. Tliis latier party, which reckoned almost the whole army in its numbers, eventually acquired an ascendancy over the more moderate presbyterians ; and, the latter being forcibly excluded from parliament, tlie few individuals who remained formed themselves into a court of justice, before which the king was arraigned. Having been found guilty of appearing in arms against the parliament, Charles was by this court condemned to suffer death as a traitor, which sentence was put in execution, January SO, 1649, in front of his own palace of Whitehall, in the forty-ninth year of his age, and twenty-fifth of his reign. The Scottish subjects of Charles had made strenuous exertions to avert tliis feai-ful issue ; and by none was his death mourned with a deeper sorrow than by the very Covenanters who had risen in arms to repel his invasion upon their liberty of conscience. It was indeed impossible not to deplore the fate of that un- fortunate and misguided monarch; but itcannotbedoubted that it wasmainly brought 536 WALTER CHEPMAN. about by his own insincerity and obstinacy. By his queen, -n-ho survived him for some years, lie left six ciiildren, of Mlinni the two eldest, Charles and James, were successively kings of Great I5rit;iin ; a son and a daughter died in early youth; and his two remaining daugiiters, iMary and Henrietta, were respectively married to the prince of (Ji-ange, and to the duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV. In literature Charles is entitled to a high rank. There was published after his death, a work entitled liiKON JBasilike, which contained a series of re- flections proceeding from himself, respecting various situations in which he was placed towarils the close of his. life. " This, in a short space of time, went through upwards of forty editions, and it every where excited a keen interest in the fate of the king and high admiration of his mental gifts. Although for a long time sus- pected to have been written by another hand, it appears incontestibly proved by Dr Christopher Wordsworth, in his work on this subject, (published in 1824,) to have been his own express composition. CHEr^IAN, Walter, who appears to have been chiefly concerned in intio- ducing the art of printing into Scotland, was a sei'vant of king James IV., who patronised him in that undertaking. None of the honours of learning are known to have been attached to the name of Walter Chepman ; but it is to be inferred that his office in the royal household was of a clerical or literary character, as we find that on the 2 1 st of February, 1496, the lord treasurer enters the follow- ing disbursement in liis books: " Gitfen to a boy to rynne fra Edinburgh to Linlithq, to Watte Chepman, to signet twaletteris to pas to Woddis, 1 2d." His name is frequently mentioned in this curious record ; for instance, in August, 1503, amidst a variety of expenses "pro servitoribus " on the occasion of the king's marriage, eight pounds ten shillings are given for " five elne Inglis (English) claith to Walter Chepman, ilk elne 34 shillings," which may show the liigh consideration in which this individujil was held. Walter Chepman is found at a somewhat later period in the condition of a merchant and burgess of Edinburgh, and joining with one Andro Millar, another merchant, in the busi- ness of a printer. It appears to have been owing to the urgent wishes of the king that Scotland was first favoured with the possession of a printing press. A grant under the privy seal, dated in 1507, recites the causes and objects of this measure in the following terms : — James, &c, — To al and sindrj our ofiiciaris liegis and subdittis quham it efferis, quhais knawlage thir our lettres salcum, greting ; wit ye that forsamekill as our lovittis servitouris Walter Chepman and Andro Millar burgessis of our burgh of Edinburgh, has, at our instance and request, for our plesour, the honour and proffit of our Healme and leigis, takin on thame to furnis and bring hanve ane prent, with all stutf belangand tharto, and expert men to use the saniyne, for imprenting within our Kealme of the bukis of our Lawis, actis of parliament, croniclis, mess bukis, and portuus efter the use of our liealme, with addi(;ions and legendis of Scottish Sanctis, now gaderit to be ekit tharto, and al ntheris bukis tliat salbe sene necessar, and to sel the sammyn for competent pricis, be our avis and discrecioun, thair labouris and expens being considerit ; And because we wnderstand that this cmnot be perfurnist without rycht greit cost labour and expens, we have granted and promittit to thame that thai sail nocbt be hurt nor prevenit tharon be ony ntheris to tak copyis of ony bukis furtht of our Kealme, to ger imprent the samyne in utheris countreis, to be brocht and sauld agane within our Kealme, to cause the said Walter and Andro tyne thair gret labour and expens ; And als It is divisit and thocht expedient be us and our consall, that in tyme cuming mess bukis, numualis, matyne bukis, and [tortuus bukis, efter our awin scottis use, and with legendis of Scottis Sanctis, as IS now gaderit and ekit be ane lleverend fader in god, and our traist consalour WALTER CHEPMAN. 537 Williame bischope of abirdene and utheris, be usit g^eneraly within al our Realme alssone as the samuiyn may be iniprented and providit, and that no maner of sic bukis of Salisbui-y use be brocht to be sauld witliin our Kealnie in tyni earn- ing ; and gif ony dois in the contrar, that tliai sal tyne the sanimyne ; Quhai-for we charge sti-aitlie and connnandis yow al and sindrj our officiaris, liegis, and subdittis, that nane of yow tak apon hand to do ony thing incontrar tliis our awnpi'oiuitt, devise and ordinance, in tjine earning, under the pane of eschcting of the bakis, and punishing of thair persons bringaris tharof within our liealme, in contrar tliis oar statut, with al vigour as etleris. Geven under our prlve Sel at Edinburgh, the xv (Liy of September, and of our Regne the xx'' yer. {Registrum Sec. Sic/, iii. 129.) This typographicxil business would appear to have been in full operation be- fore the end of 1507, as, on the 22d of December that year, we find the royal treasurer paying fifty shillings for " 3 prentitbukes to the king, tane fra Andro Millaris wyff." The Cowgate, a mean street, now inhabited by the least ii'.structed class of the citizens of Edinburgh, uas the place where that grand engine of knowledge was established ; as appears fx'om the imprints of some of Chepraan and 3Iillar's publications, and also from a passage in the Traditions of Edinbui'gh, where the exact site of the house is thus made out : — " In the lower part of the church-yard [ of St Giles, adjoining the Cowgate ] there was a small place of worship, denominated the Chapel of Holyrood. Walter Chepman, the first printer in Edinburgh, in 152S, endowed an altar in this chapel with his tenement in the Cowgate ; and, by the tenor of this charter, we ai-e enabled to point out very nearly the residence of this remarkable person. The tenement is thus described : — ' All and haill this tenement of Land, back and foir, with houses, biggings, yards, and well, thereof, lying in the Cowgate of Edinbui'gh, on the south side thereof, near the said chapel, betwixt the lands of James Lamb on the east, and the lands of John Aber on the west, the arable lands, called Wairam's croft, on the south, and the said street on the north part.' " It is probable that the site is now covered by the new bridge thrown across the Co^vgate at tliat point. In the coarse of a few years, Chepman and Blillar produced works,' of which hardly any other set is known to exist than that presened in the Advocates' Library. The privilege granted to Chepman and Millar was of a rigidly exclusive kind — for at this early period the system of monopolizing knowledge, which is now an absurdity and a disgrace, was a matter of necessity. In January 1509, we find Walter Chepman asserting the right of his patent against various indivi- duals who had infringed upon it by importing books into the country. The lords of council thus re-inforced the privilege they had formerly gi-anted to him ; — Anest the complaint maid by AV alter Chepman, that quhar he, at the desyre of our soverane lord, furnist and brocht hame ane prent and prentaris, for ^renting of croniclis, missalis, portuuss, and utheris buikis within this realme, 1 The Porteous of Nobleness, translatit out of Ff renche in Scottis, be Maister Andro Cadyou. — The Knightly tale of Golagras and Gawane. — Sir Glamore. — Balade: In all our Gar- ilenne growes their no flowres. — The Golden Targe •, compilit be Maister AVilliam Dunbar. — The Mayng, or Disport of Chaucere The flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy. — The Traite of Orpheus Kina. — The Nobilness and grete JMagnefictnce. — The Balade of ane right Noble Victorious and Mighty Lord Barnard Stewart, of Aubigny, Earl of Beaumont, &c. Com- pilit be .Mr Wilyam Dunbar.— The Tale of the Twa .Alariit'Wemen and the Wedo.— Lament for the death of the Rlakkaris. — Poetical Peice, of one page in length, commencing. My Gudame was a gay Wyf. — The Testament of Mr Andro Kennedy. — Fitts, &c. of Kobyii Hud. — Breuiarij Aberdonensis ad percelebris Ecclesie Scotor. — Ejusdem Breviarii Pars j5itivalis, per Reverendum in Christo Patrem Wilelmum, Abirdon. Episcopum, stud